#for apart from that is a cop show or hockey or something. I am that person. hi!

[hms-tardimpala]

I gutted up and un-anonymized the fics I wrote based off of @a-random-pillow's prompts some time ago because you know what, I worked on those, actually, and I have no reason to cringe or hide.

[dreamingmanip]

"MADNESS LOVE"

*GIF NOT MINE* 

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Warnings: None (if I need one let me know in my ask!)

Prompt: NONE

Word Count: 1,860

A/N: Okay, this time I didn’t use any prompt from my board on Pinterest. I came with the idea last night (thanks insomnia), and I thought I could make it in 2 parts. Let me know what do you think in my ask, is always open for you. If you want t, like it and reblog it. Thank you very much! 

A/N 2: I’m gonna pin this imagine so you can easily find it on my page, I will do the same when posting part 2. :)

A/N 3: This awesome gif is from Pinterest but, it comes from Wattpad. Her account is Ariana-Fic and you can find it in her fic “Soldiers in Intelligence”.

Being a cop wasn't easy, putting your life in danger to protect and serve others sometimes wasn't successful. It was 50/50, every morning you will be walking out home not knowing if you could come back.

It had been three weeks without a person in the unit. Detective Jay Halstead had been wounded in a crossfire in a covert operation; when one of you got hurt everyone took responsibility even if it wasn't that way, only for some it was harder to try not to blame yourself for what happened. You had blamed Hailey for not covering Jay enough even though you knew it wasn't her fault, you even avoided her a few days after that. 

She was her partner way long before you were assigned to Intelligence by Sergeant Voight.

Narcotics helped Intelligence in a case; it was your case but somehow their case intertwined with yours at some point, both departments agreed to work to stop the overdoses in the area. You were the best at CO, so it made sense for Sergeant Voight to pick Jay, one of his best undercovers for a purchase. Your skills didn't go unnoticed by anyone in the Intelligence Unit, even for someone with experience like Jay. After the case was over he offered you a spot in his Unit, you doubt it for a moment, you were good in Narcotics, good pay, accumulated vacation days, Voight wasn't known for being a patient person and some co-workers encouraged you to take that step by commenting on how crazy you must be not to accept such an offer. 

You were well received by all, perhaps except for Sergeant Trudy Platt, who didn't like strangers or new people in the district. Jay was among the first to congratulate you when you arrived, for a moment you thought you'd be partners but Voight wouldn't break his dream team, so he paired you with Kevin Atwater, whom you've been entrusting your life and darkest secrets to ever since. 

Atwater was the first one you told about the nights you stayed late with Jay in Molly's, he was the first to know how those late nights became visiting his apartment, to end up arriving together one morning, to the district. He had told you about Voight's rules and how he was firm with them after Jay's last relationship had gone bad with his partner and that had affected his way of working a bit.

Jay and you decided to go slowly, the only one who would know about you two would be Kevin, it was agreed at least, but Hailey Upton was very good at her job so she soon realized what was happening between you. She had supported you, although she did not agree to hide this from her sergeant, she wanted to see her partner happy.

They were all at their desks, doing paperwork on a case they had closed the day before, when Trudy appeared on the stairs.

"Guess who came back from her mandatory break."

You looked up from the papers in front of you to look at a smiling Jay Halstead, who was looking at Trudy with a raised eyebrow.

"Nice to see you too, Trudy."

"Yeah, now try to get away from the bullets for a while, I don't want to have to worry about any of you for a long time."

Kevin and Adam were the first to approach him, joking and patting him on the shoulder. Kim and Hailey were next, giving him a loving hug before heading back to his places. You had stood up to lean against your desk, your arms crossed over your chest, Jay leaned closer, although he kept some distance, the mocking smile still on his lips. You were the first to speak.

"I see you survived, Halstead."

"Hey, don't say it like that, I'm going to think you're not happy to see me alive."

You pressed your lips together so as not to smile because of his comment, it was the game that both played in front of everyone else, the sarcastic comments to pretend that they were not getting along as well as they should. You nodded and looked at him.

"It's good to have you back."

Jay's smile widened and he put his hands on his hips.

"Look at that, you're happy to have me here."

You rolled your eyes and sat back in your chair when Voight left his office, leaning against the doorframe.

"How are you Jay?"

Jay nodded his head looking at his boss.

"Good, Sarge."

"Good, because I just hung up with the Superintendent and he wants to acknowledge what you did. Tomorrow there will be a public event, downtown."

You all clapped for a moment, before Voight continued speaking.

"Now try not to die until tomorrow."

Without saying more he returned to his office. Jay went to his desk to catch up on all the overdue paperwork, from time to time you looked up to observe him, you were glad to have him back but the moment you knew about the award, you felt a bitter taste in your mouth. Why were they going to decorate him when he almost died? 

You stood up and went to the coffee room, took one of the cups on the wall and poured yourself some, you still felt that bitter taste in your mouth. You heard footsteps behind you and looked over your shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

Jay asked, taking another cup, reaching for the pot and pouring himself some coffee as well. You leaned a little to look towards the door, checking that no one was around to hear you. You started to get tired of that, checking over your shoulders to see if no one could hear your conversations or whatever you were doing behind closed doors.

“Uhm, yes, I’m just a little tired. We have been in some paperwork duties from a few cases from the past weeks.”

You took a sip from the cup, making a little grin at the taste of the coffee.

“Well, just for the record, I know when something’s bothering you. We have been together almost a year.”

He looked satisfied with himself, and you couldn’t deny it because he was right, Jay knew you so well almost since day one. You looked at him and gave him a little smile, his mood was good after dealing with a grumpy man at his house because he couldn’t get back to work after being shot, and you definitely didn't want to be the one to screw it up. 

Kim walks into the room without realizing the interruption she just made or how you take a little more distance between you two, starts a little chat with Jay and you decide to go back to your desk.

Later, in the locker room, you were finishing picking up some things from your little blue locker, putting them in the gym bag you were carrying that day when Kevin appeared next to you, opening his own locker.

"I don't see you so happy today, you were quiet for most of the day, man you didn't even laugh at Ruzek's nonsense. I thought having Jay back would make you feel better."

You sighed and took a seat on the bench, rubbing your hands over your face before looking at your best friend. You played with your lower lip a bit before speaking.

"Kevin, am I crazy for wanting more in this relationship? I mean, we've worked well without anyone knowing, what difference would it make if we did from the knowledge of Voight, of our friends?"

They both fell silent when an officer entered the room and moments later he left the room, you clenched your fist and struck the cold metal in front of you, you felt frustrated and helpless. Kevin sat next to you, rubbing his hands together as he took his time answering you.

"Y/N, you are a pretty strong woman who knows what she wants, don't let anyone make you feel like you can't, not even some of my friends. If you want, I can talk to him, you know man to man" .

His comment made you laugh a little, releasing a bit of the tension in your chest, you bumped his shoulder with yours, pushing him a little.

"Thanks Kev. I don't think that talk is necessary but I will take it into account for future problems."

"Whenever you need me, girl."

You took your bag, Kevin had helped you lift your spirits but you knew you had to do something with your feelings, for better or for worse. 

Jay was in the kitchen when he heard you arrive, a smile formed on his face as he came out to greet you, an ice cold beer in his hand and a hockey game in the background on television. He walked over to you to kiss your forehead, took your bag and set it aside by the door.

"It took you a little longer than usual to get here, I'm sorry I didn't wait for you. Trudy wanted me to fill out some forms for tomorrow and I left earlier."

You couldn't look at Jay without stopping to think about the consequences that your words would have, you knew about his past and you didn't want to be the evil witch who would ruin what you both had until that day. You settled next to him, resting your head on his chest while he watched the game and he made imaginary shapes on the skin of your arm.

It took you a few minutes before you could form a sentence, your voice lacking the strength you had gathered all the way to his apartment.

"Jay, what if we tell Voight we're together?"

Your voice caught his attention, looking at you completely confused.

"Y/N, we both know that we can't say anything at the moment if we want to continue working in the same unit."

You slowly sat up again, turning a little so you could face him, Jay was sure of what he was saying, it showed in his face and in the confidence with which he had spoken.

"Jay, I'm tired of having to hide from everyone, like what we're doing is wrong. Voight will understand if-"

"I've been through this before Y/N, I know what I'm talking about. I also refused to hide my thing with Erin, but things changed. If we tell this to Voight he will remove someone from the team and we know it will not be me."

You felt the air come out of your lungs, as if someone had hit you, Jay realized his mistake when you stood up, he began to move his head trying to speak, he left the beer on the coffee table trying to take your hand .

"Y/N, it's not what- it's not what I meant ..."

Unaware of your movements, you started to take your things in a frenzy, Jay seemed to be talking to you but you couldn't identify his words or what he was trying to tell you, you just left.

To be continued...

[sabraeal]

Climb to the Rooftops

[Read on AO3]

Written for @another-miracle; a birthday fic that is COMING OUT ON TIME would you look at that (though I am definitely doing some fancy footwork to make it work out in both time zones 😂 Yixin asked for the Post-Rescue Tanbarun Tree Scene for WFB, and then I said, I could give you that, but what if I told you about a secret scene instead...

And then Yixin told me to write whichever one was Obi POV

He knows her.

That’s what keeps running through his head’s hamster wheel as he clomps up the student center steps. He knows her; he’s always known her. If he reached out on that park bench, if he’d grabbed her with both hands and just said, don’t leave me--

He would have been laid flat on his ass, courtesy of that mean right hook her dad taught her before he bounced. And there’d be another demerit on his record to boot, one more instance of anti-social behavior to make him even more unadoptable than he already was. Doc was always destined to go to a loving home, complete with cozy hideaways and towers of books, with warm firesides and even warmer grandparents, and he...

Well, he wasn’t meant for anything like that, no matter who he clung to. Sometimes shit just happens, and no wishing on stars thirteen years gone can change that.

It’s good to see her though. He’d always wondered what happened to his muppet girl, whether she’d gone off and had her happy ending just like she said she would. And now he knows she did.

He glances down at the peanut butter canister in his hand. Well, at least for a little while. That’s the thing about happy endings; they don’t really stick.

Obi hesitates, one foot poised over a step up, his hand wrapped around a ruddy safety rail. “Um, Doc.”

It takes her three steps to bounce to a stop, just enough to let her look down instead of up or across. He’s got double vision for a moment: Doc in the here and now looking at him with so much hope and anxiety that he’s half-afraid she’ll shake apart like a Hot Wheel in a blender; superimposed over the little girl in his memory, round face beaming up at him and her worries far behind her.

She’s got more freckles now, though most of them are hidden beneath her coat, fading without the direct application of summer sun. More inches too, though not as many as he’d given her in his head; for once he’d given more benefit of the doubt than nature could provide. And her hair-- well, that’s the same. Red. Fluffy. Muppety, too, if it’s the morning.

“Obi?”

He should really be paying attention to this conversation he fucking started, instead of just staring at her like a creep. “I just wanted to check in.”

“Oh.” She goes rosy under the freckles he can see, shifting the urn from her hands to her elbow. “I’m-- I’m fine. I’m glad that we could find--” one arm juts out, trying to encompass both them and the containers-- “everyone.”

“Yeah, I got you, but I meant...” He angles a pointed look over her shoulder. “Why are we going up?”

Doc’s jaw drops, and he sees it, the way panic crests right behind her eyes.

“Not that I’m suggesting we don’t.” He takes the next step slow, just enough to put them on equal standing. Except it doesn’t, it puts him a little above her; the beginning of really looking down. His heart flutters in the exact way it shouldn’t when he’s carrying human remains. “I’m just saying, if we’re going to carry geriatrics up a few flights, the elevator’s better for their hips.”

He expects her to laugh at that one, or maybe even roll her eyes, but instead Doc breaks out into a full-body Chihuahua tremble.

“Obi.” Her eyes are so big in her face they might swallow him whole. “We can’t take the elevator.”

“We...can’t?”

Her head jerks in the scarcest side-to-side. With one long, steeling breath, she informs him, “We’re going to do something a little illegal.”

His brows raise. “Illegal?”

The urn bobbles treacherously as her hands fly up between them. “Only a little!”

“You cashed in your favor with me,” he repeats slowly, savoring the thrill that zips through him with every syllable. “To do something illegal.”

Doc deflates with all the gravitas of a popped kiddie pool. “I’m sorry, I should have asked if that would be okay. Especially with, um...”

She’s far too polite to say, your presumed preexisting criminal record, Doc just hasn’t realized it yet. Not when she doesn’t know for sure whether it does exist or not. It’d be easy to help her along, but it’s kinda satisfying to watch her flounder, fishing for the pieces of him she does know.

“If it’s a problem,” she says finally, lifting her eyes to his. “You don’t have to--”

“The only problem is how hot that is, Doc.” He wraps a hand around the rail beside her, leaning in close enough that her eyes nearly cross watching him. “Are you gonna get into your old field hockey kit and punch a girl up there too?”

She blinks, heels clunking into the concrete rise. “I don’t think it would fit. The skirt would be too short, at least.”

Are you sure, he wants to say, stretching every last inch over her, but instead he rumbles, “Honey, you’re saying all the right things to me--”

“Hey.” A finger presses into his nose, hauling his words up short like a pileup. “No call list.”

“Ahh.” Her mouth twitches as he pulls back, rubbing at his nose. “Haah. You know I hate that.”

“Then stick to the list,” she informs him pleasantly. “Besides, are you really trying to flirt with a girl in front of her grandpa?”

“Well.” He holds up the tin, giving it an experimental shake. “You think they’d mind?”

There’s a quality to the silence in the stairwell that clues him in to the fact that he’s cocked up real good this time. First with the tomb joke, now asking if grandma might be watching from beyond the grave, objecting to his game. At least he knows he never had a chance; otherwise he’d have to go take his hopes out behind the woodshed--

“No,” she hums, confident. “They’d like you.”

It’s a good thing she doesn’t get it in her head to try the nose trick again; it’d push him right over. He can survive a lot, but four flights is pushing it. “Doc,” he huffs, scratching the bristle at the back of his head, “I don’t think--”

“Well...” She’s thoughtful when she puts her back to him, bouncing up the next couple of stairs. “Opa would. Oma would think you needed to be fattened up.”

He laughs, but even to his own ears it sounds busted up, wings broken. “Sounds like my kind of lady.”

“Ugh,” Doc sighs from one landing up. “She’d love that you said that.”

“That just makes her even more--”

“Don’t.”

RESTRICTED ACCESS, the doors says, bright red letters fading against the plastic sign. ALARM WILL SOUND.

Doc’s been bullish these last few flights, pushing a pace that makes him want to remind her he’s a hitter, not a runner, but now--

Now she shuffles on the stairs, daunted. “Do you think it will really...?”

Obi thinks this might be a private university, funded by mommy and daddy’s pockets to keep their babies safe, but alarms go off all the time. Unless this building has a rent-a-cop watching daytime TV down in the atrium right now, it could take hours for someone to answer the call, especially mid-afternoon on a Saturday.

“Who knows.” He’s not sure what she’s got up her sleeve that involves two dead people and a rooftop-- especially when even Doc is quick to admit it’s got at least a toe on the wrong side of legal-- but it probably won’t look good if they’re interrupted, even by the Diet Coke of the law enforcement vending machine. “Maybe you should plan to keep the fancy speeches to a minimum.”

“Eulogies.” Her thin fingers flex over ceramic, white where they press in. “You mean a eulogy.”

“Gesundheit.”

Doc turns her head, real slow, letting him soak in every drop of her disapproval. Well, that’s one pigtail successfully pulled.

With a breath so deep it makes her pea coat really earn the name, Doc nods. “Right. Okay. I think...”

Obi expects some dithering, some real soul-searching doubts being dragged out for airing right here in the stairwell. Doc likes that sort of thing, taking everything out of her head so she can fold it all up real nice again, but instead--

Instead she barrels across the landing, plowing right through the metal door, a whole stretch of gray winter sky stretching out before her. There’s one blink, two, and then-- well, the sign wasn’t kidding. The alarm does, in fact, sound.

He catches the door with a hand; it’s weighted, ready to swing right back into place and-- if he knows his doors-- lock right behind her. Not that it’d be a problem if he meant to stand around on the stairwell and act as look out; a role he’d be happy to play if that’s how Doc wanted this whole show to run. But right now she’s slumped at the ledge, every last ounce of her usual moxie wrung out.

Maybe she might tell him to stand back, that this is something she’s got to take on alone, but Obi knows every aching line of that pose by heart. A car can keep going for fifty miles once it hits empty, but that just means you’ll never know when the tank runs dry. That’s where she is right now, stalling out at her limit.

And that’s what he’s here for, to push her that last inch over the finish line. Besides, he can’t just stand back, not when he’s grandpa’s ride.

“So.” There’s a shim in a corner-- a naughty thing to have around an emergency door like this, but Obi’s not about to tattle. He’s perfectly happy to wedge someone else’s problem right where the paint’s flaked off the door. “What’s the problem?”

Doc blinks, one hand trembling on grandma’s lid. “W-what?”

He settles grandpa on the ledge, arms folded around him, taking in the sprawl of buildings below. Clarines isn’t as big as one of those state universities, but it makes Tanbarun look like a college playset instead of a campus. Both of them have those stuffy brick and marble buildings they like up here, the kind that say academic and too good for you loud and clear, but whereas Obi’s walked across Clarines for thirty minutes and still never hit the edge, it looks like he could lap this place in twenty. No wonder Doc was miserable here; the real mystery is how she managed an entire year in this fancy rat cage.

“There’s got to be one.” He knows better than to look at her; if he’s going to make her talking about feelings, the least he can do is give her the privacy to have them. “You were all gung-ho a minute ago, ready to do your thing even if you had to punch out a cop to do it--”

“--I didn’t say that,” she murmurs--

“--but now you’re just standing here.” He shrugs, chancing a glance from the corner of his eyes. “Looking lost.”

“I just...” She shifts, head twisting toward him, he doesn’t need to meet her gaze to know it’s wild, desperate. “It doesn’t feel right that they don’t go together.”

It’s his turn to stare now, lost. “O...kay.”

“What if...” Her teeth fold over her lip, worrying at places already worn. “What if I left them go, and they don’t find each other?”

“Ah...?” It seems like a bit of an oversight now, not asking what the plan is, but he ventures, “You mean...the ashes?”

Her mouth twists up, annoyance in every wrinkle. “It sounds weird when you say it like that.”

“No, no, I’m just...” He glances down at the tin between his arms. “I’m just putting things together. There’s nothing wrong about how you feel, Doc. Not like anyone’s really written a book about how this works.”

She looks up at him, so guileless. “Of course they have, Obi. There’s a whole section in the bookstore for it. It’s just that they’re all written by charlatans and quacks.”

Whatever the conversational version of whiplash is, Obi’s experiencing it now. For a minute all he can do is stare, taking in the abject disapproval rumpling her face, and then he-- he--

He laughs. Because this is what he’s into. The sort of person who pumps the breaks and spins the conversation 360 without even a courtesy ‘buckle up.’

“Listen, I’ve been thinking...” He taps the top of the tin, the metallic ting drowned out by the blare of the siren. “What if we just...mixed them? Then when you release them--”

“--They’re already together.” Doc blinks up at him, eye shining like he’s her savior, the center of her world, the answer to her cosmic question--

The way she really shouldn’t, when she already belongs to someone a hundred times better than he’ll ever be. Not when she’d never mean to get his hopes up.

“Thank you, Obi,” she breathes, a smile dawning on her lips. “That’s exactly what we need to do.”

Like all his good ideas, it’s easier said than done. On the ground, it’d been breezy, the sort of gentle push he’d come to expect from New England right before it got its first good snow, but up here--

“Here, take this.” Obi shrugs off his jacket, hurriedly pushing it into Doc’s boneless hands, but it’s too late-- they’ve already lost a bit of grandma. “Hold it up.”

She stares down at it, thumbs rubbing over the leather in a way that makes his shoulders itch. “Hold...?”

He swings out one arm-- the one not holding a geriatric-- yanking it wide. “Like a wind screen. I don’t want to lose Oma’s pinky toe or something.”

Doc blinks, stretching the coat between her hands. “Pinky toe?”

“Wouldn’t that make you cranky in the afterlife?” he asks, shaking more of Oma loose in a lull. “Losing a toe? Or a finger. Like just the last knuckle. A bit of your nose.”

The leather starts to ripple as the wind spins back up, and Doc stomps a foot down on the end of it to keep it from smacking up into his face. He appreciates the effort; it’s hard enough trying to pour from a large container to a small one without his zipper clocking him over the eyebrow. “Would that really matter?”

He shrugs. “To some people, probably. I got plenty of nose to spare.”

Doc mouth curves shyly, hunching down to hide behind his coat. “I think it’s fine just as it is.”

“Haah.” It’d be nice if she could give him a heads up when she plans to make his heart pound like that. “Think you might be the first to think that.”

“I don’t know,” she hums, eyes electric with some mischievous spark in their depths. “Maybe I’m the first to say so, but you certainly weren’t getting any complaints a few nights ago--”

He huffs. “Drunk college girls aren’t exactly arbiters of taste, Doc.”

She fixes him with that steady stare of hers, the one that’s so earnest it makes his heart make a bid for freedom through his throat. “I think,” she says, each word weighed before she lets it free, just like a good scientist, “that they did just fine.”

He smothers a whimper into a sigh. “Maybe your grandparents don’t mind me flirting,” he mutters, hunched over that stupid peanut butter tin, “but I’m sure they wouldn’t like you returning the favor.”

She blinks, head cocked. “Did you say something Obi?”

“No,” he says, just a little louder. “Just talking to myself.”

“You know--” he sets down the urn, wiping the sweat off his forehead-- “this would have been a lot easier going the other way.”

“We can’t.” Doc’s mouth twists up into that troublesome knot. “Opa always said he never wanted to be in one of those big fancy vases. And even if he would never know, I...”

Obi sighs, hanging his head. “Yeah, I know, I get it, just...complaining to complain. You know how it is.”

She stares down at him like he’s a fish on a dock telling her about the dangers of air. He shakes his head, stifling a laugh. Of course Doc wouldn’t get it; she could lose a limb and she’d still be thankful for the other three. Probably point out how much better things were now that she didn’t need to keep track of all of them. He might complain like it was as easy as breathing, but Doc-- Doc would take every last uncharitable thought to the grave.

Haah, give her some time. A few more months around him, and she’d discover some things to complain about. People always did.

“So,” he says, picking grandma back up. “Why here?”

Doc blinks. “Huh?”

“You know, on top of the roof of the campus center at one of the prestigious universities on the East Coast?” He raises a brow. “I know you used to go here, but most people just settle for leaving dog shit on the stoop when they want to send a ‘fuck you,’ you know.”

Doc unleashes a sound that can only be termed a squawk. “What? What do you mean most people--?” She shakes her head. “No, I don’t-- I mean, it’s not supposed to be a, um...”

“Fuck you?”

“Ah...yes. That.” She grimaces. “They met here. And when I tried to think of places they might want to be...”

Her words drift to a stop, but it’s gentle. They don’t abandon her, leaving her high and dry, but she just...stops saying them, letting the wind carry them away.

“I couldn’t think of any place else,” she admits, fingers tightening in the leather. “They always talked about Tanbarun so fondly, and I...I always thought it sounded like paradise.”

“But the roof?” Obi asks, incredulous. “Is it just easier to scatter the ashes, or...?”

“It’s where they met,” she repeats, like that makes any sense at all. “They used to have movie nights up here, played on one of those reel projectors,”

Her gaze swings out over the concrete like she could see it; all the hippy bean bags piled up, big screen pulled down and movie hardly able to be heard over the wind. Not a bad picture, he’ll admit. Wholesome, just like he’d expect out of the people who raised this Precious Moments doll of a person. Doesn’t really explain Mukaze, but well, shit happens. Half the people who raised him don’t deserve the person he’s become either. “Nice story.”

She’s hardly here with him, eyes hazy and distant, stuck in a past only she can see. “That’s what I always thought. I always wanted...” Her voice trails off again, but this time her smile falters, topping like china from a wobbling shelf. “I always wanted to have a story like that too. But it, um, didn’t really work out that way.”

He shouldn’t say anything. He’s not some neutral party, here to give her that impartial, unbiased pick-me-up she wants to hear, like telling her won’t rips a strip right off his back, so-- he should keep his big mouth shut.

But he’s never been good at any of that being smart shit. “It’s not like you didn’t have your own meet cute, it just wasn’t here. It was, er...”

Huh, now would you look at that. He’s never actually asked.

“At a record store,” she supplies slowly, like she has to think on it too. “Between the aisles after I missed my bus. No--” she laughs, more bitter than he’s ever heard her-- “after I chose to miss it.”

“See?” he hums, vibrating the knife deeper. “That’s already a good start.”

Her lips press thin. “I suppose...”

“No supposing about it.” He taps grandpa so the ashes sit flat before he starts another pour. “If I know anything about your Oma and your Opa-- and I don’t know nothing besides what you told me--” and what he saw a decade ago, sitting on that park bench-- “I don’t think they care whether you met your person at a rooftop movie or in a Walmart--”

“Record store.”

“They have CDs too,” he informs her, just as prim as Doc gets with him when she indulged the one pedantic bone in her body. “But the point is, they wouldn’t care where it happened, they just wanted you to find what they had.”

“I...” She deflates, the leather bowing over her legs. “I know. I think they used to worry that I wouldn’t, especially since I wasn’t really, ah...”

“Looking for it?” he offers.

She nods, relieved. “Yes, that. After my parents, I think they expected a much more, um, active interest in...anything. And I wasn’t.”

He doesn’t need to hear her say it to know that there’s more to it than that, that what she means to say is, and I don’t think they understood.

“Well, nothing for them to worry about anymore, is there?” She blinks up at him, alarmed, and he adds, “You and chief are kind of a done deal right?”

“Ah!” It’s hard to tell with the wind slapping both their cheeks red, but he could swear Doc’s blushing. “I don’t-- it’s not-- we haven’t really talked about--” she heaves a heavy, resigned sigh-- “I mean, I...I guess?”

“As done as it can be without getting PR involved.” He gives her the sort of eyebrow Kiki might. “I’m sure that if they’re out there floating on clouds or whatever, or, i don’t know, free energy in the universe, molecules just bumping around...they’re happy for you.”

“Right.” Her reply’s so faint he nearly misses it, but the wind that snatches it away carries it right by his ear. “Yeah.”

“All right, I think I’ve done as much as I can do.” Obi levers himself to his feet, brushing off his lap before handing her the tin. “You ready for this?”

Doc stares down at the canister, jaw set, the same way he’s sure it looked right before she threw herself out a window. Certainly looks the same way it did when she tried to bean Itoya with her purse.

“Yeah,” she breathes, fingers tightening around the metal. “I think I am.”

The wall’s not tall, but neither is Doc; she has to go up on tip-toe to throw an arm over it, the wind already pulling at the ashes laying loose at the top. Her brow furrows, mouth working for a good minute before she manages, “It’s time to say goodbye, I think.”

Obi stares. Sure, he’d said to keep it short and sweet, but if it’s taken this long for the rent-a-cop to hustle up, maybe she can spare the people who raised her more than--

“Thank you.” He’d thought it might be hard to hear her over both the alarm and the wind, but somehow all her words fly true, brightening the air. “For...everything. I don’t really know how you...”

Her breath catches, but her eyes are clear, no tears streaking down her face. “But that doesn’t matter, does it? You did everything and more. But I think...” She sniffs, taking a moment. “I think I can take it from here. I’ll miss you, Oma. And Opa...”

She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I forgive you. For whatever still needs forgiving. Rest well.”

Her hand tips, just the barest degree, and the ashes scatter, wind whipping them past, twisting high over the quad.

“Hey.” Obi steps up beside her, shrugging his coat on over his shoulders. If it’s a little gritty-- well, good thing Doc thing thinks Oma would like him so much, because part of her might linger until the next wash. “I’m pretty sure it’s super illegal to scatter human remains like this.”

“Oh,” Doc hums, shoulder bushing his arm. “It absolutely is without a permit. I was not joking about the slightly illegal thing.”

Obi grins. “Well good thing that no one ever came to check on the--”

As if summoned by the mere mention of potentially having something approaching good luck, the door bar rattles, accompanied by some creative cursing.

“Who the fuck is leaving this open?” A gruff yet feminine voice demands, as if she might be able to shake down the universe and pick up the answers from what fell out of its pockets if she just rattled it hard enough. “Bill, is it you? God, what did I say about using the roof for your smoke breaks--?”

The door swings all the way open, and there she is, a security guard with shoulders that could have dropped straight from the Lowen family tree. Obi would take a picture if he wasn’t sure that would get him thrown in the campus drunk tank.

She takes one glance at them, then another angrier one. “Who the fuck are you?” 

“UM,” Doc shrills informatively.

“No, wait.” One broad hand waves in front of her. “I don’t care. What are you doing up here?”

Doc flounders in the face of authoritarian disappointment-- which is fine by Obi. This is his wheelhouse, after all. It’s nothing to reach out, cinching Doc’s waist against him, grin wide. “Sex, obviously.”

If it were possible for a body to choose the time and place of its expiration from this earthly dairy aisle, Doc’s mortified stare suggests she might curdle on the spot. “Obi.”

The guard’s glare is a study in skepticism, taking in the both of them, and then the concrete wasteland around them. “Here? With your clothes on?”

“It’s our kink.”

“Please,” Doc mutters against his shirt. “Don’t talk.”

The guard spares them one last weary look and sighs. “You know what? I don’t care. Just get out.”

Doc certainly doesn’t need to be told twice. Obi’s got his mouth open, what can’t you let us finish first about to spill right out, but her small hand clamps around his, and she drags him right off the roof.

“SORRY,” she yelps as they pass. “WON’T LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN.”

“Yeah,” Obi agrees with a grin. “Next time we’ll fuck on some other roo--”

Doc pauses for one moment, just long enough to raise a finger and inform him “DON’T.”

This time he lets her drag him off, grinning.

They’re halfway down the stairs when Doc finally slows, her cheeks reaching a shade of red that looks more lipstick than lobster dinner. Her hand wraps tight around the rail, and it’s not until he saunters down the last couple steps to stand beside her that he realizes-- her eyes are screw tight, breath coming in ragged bursts.

“Hey,” he murmurs, trying to ignore the spark of alarm zipping under his skin. “Did you just realize we could have used the elevator?”

Her fingers, already wrapped tight around his palm, squeeze. “Obi...”

The muscles in his arm lock, the way he’s sure lizard tails do, right before they drop them off and run. “Doc?”

Her head turns toward him, and when her eyes flutter open, they’re bright, clear. “Thanks. For being there.”

“No. No, no,” he murmurs, his fingers spasming against hers. “You’ve got it all wrong. I should be the one thank you for letting me. No one...”

No one has ever asked me to be there, he doesn’t say. No one but you.

It’s too much when she’s looking at him like this, like he’s not just a stand-in but her first choice. Like there’s more to how he feels than some one-sided over-investment. It brings him so close to feeling like someone, like the kind of guy who might be her person--

And maybe he could have been, if he hadn’t let some asshole rip her right out her arms in the middle of the night. If he had a record of being something other than a professional disappointment.

The grin doesn’t sit right on his face when he says, “No one’s ever asked me to get rid of a dead body before.”

Doc blinks, then rolls her eyes. “Come on,” she sighs, tugging his hand. “Let’s go.”

“Back to the hotel?”

“Well,” she wheedles. “That. And I dropped the tin when the guard surprised us...”

“Ah I see.” He slips his hand from hers, grin finally sitting the way it should. “So we’re adding evidence removal and obstruction of justice to our list of crimes.”

She tips a dubious look back at him. “Are you complaining?”

“Doc,” he breathes, pressing a hand to his chest. “I would never. I’m touched that you would even think that I could--”

“Come on, Obi,” she laughs, hopping down the steps in front of him. “I’d like to do this sometime today.”

His mouth curls as he watches her back. “Your wish is my command.”

[penaltbox]

take her to the moon - ty emberson

this all came from another random idea that @puckyess​ and I had that we ran with lol. if you like it let me know!! reblogs, lines you liked, even a simple ‘good job’ are all super appreciated :)

word count: 4.8k

__

You look around the room at the boys you were familiar with, but not comfortable around. You know them all well enough. In fact, you’d known them since your freshman year. But they weren’t your favorite boys. No, these were more like your obligation due to your boyfriend. 

You check your phone and find yet another ridiculous Snapchat from your actual favorite boys, Ty specifically, and your heart sinks a bit. You’d much rather be with them, where they’re apparently making Brock take shots even though he can’t handle them, than being stuck with your boyfriend and the rest of his team - the basketball team. 

The hockey boys were your actual friends. The ones you’d celebrated big wins with, had breakdowns in front of, and the ones who knew you the best. You look up and see some girl put her hand on your boyfriend’s arm, but he doesn’t shake it off. Of course he doesn’t, but you don’t even want to address it right that second.

You open your messages and respond to the video Ty had just sent, knowing he’d respond quickly.

‘Ugh looks way more fun than here :(‘

‘You know you’re always welcome. I can come pick you up if you want’

You smile, tucking your phone in your back pocket and deciding it was time to go. You’re sick of this little get together so you make your way over to your boyfriend and tap his arm. He turns away from the girl he still won’t turn down and his smile drops. 

“Danny, I think I’m headed home. I have to be up early tomorrow,” you lie, but you know he won’t question it. It was only his lies that ever got questioned. 

He nods and surprisingly takes your hand, “I’ll come with. Make sure you get back safe and everything.”

You smile and take the action at face value rather than trying to read into it like you sometimes did. Danny says his goodbyes as you follow him out the door. He drops your hand though as soon as you both exit and you can’t help but frown. 

He’d been acting odd again and the feeling that something all too familiar was coming was impossible to shake. You try and make the best of things though and smile up at him. 

“Are you excited to not have a game this weekend?” You ask, referring to their first weekend off all season. 

He shrugs and jams his finger into the button for the elevator without glancing at you, “yeah it should be nice. Are we hanging out?”

“Uh, well,” you stutter, forgetting to have told him you wouldn’t be available, “I kind of already had some plans.”

“So cancel them,” he says, like it’s no big deal. Like your plans can’t matter more than one of the few weekends he had off in a season. 

You grit your teeth a little, “I can’t just cancel them. I’m going to Ty’s game since you don’t have one.”

Danny lets out a short humorless laugh then as the elevator arrives, “oh, of course you are. You know you don’t owe him shit, right?”

“Fuck off, Dan. We aren’t doing this again. He’s my best friend and you know that,” you sigh, crossing your arms as you lean back against the wall of the elevator. 

Danny keeps his mouth shut the rest of the elevator ride and the ten minute walk back over to your apartment building, which you welcome after the attitude he copped immediately at the mention of Ty. You knew your roommate was out for the night and so you let Danny in behind you with no hesitation. She wasn’t exactly his biggest fan. 

“Will you flip the lock right away?” You ask as you kick your shoes off and head for the kitchen. 

“Uh,” Danny starts, his tone causing you to stop in your tracks, “are we gonna have sex?”

“Seriously? That’s the only thing you’re concerned with right now?” You ask, jaw dropping in shock. Danny could be brash but this was a new level from him. 

He shrugs like the question was normal and you scoff as you tell him, “maybe you should just leave. I don’t know what your issue is tonight but don’t take it out on me.”

“Cool, see you next week since Emberson is more important,” he scoffs and heads out the door. 

You think you’re quick enough to follow after him, grabbing for the door handle, but it slams just before you can grab the cool metal. Instead you lean your forehead onto the door and sigh. Things had never been quite this bad with Danny. 

With a sigh you lock the door yourself and trudge back to the kitchen. You fill your tea kettle and turn it on before going to slip into some pajamas. Heading back to the kitchen you go to reach for a mug, but your phone starts to buzz incessantly on the counter. 

You frown but pick it up, seeing Ty’s face flashing across the screen. It was late but that was no surprise with him. He called whenever he wanted and you’d always pick up, but he did the same for you with no questions asked. 

“Yes, Ty?” You answer, a little smile spreading across your face immediately. 

He laughs on the other end, the background noise starting to fade, “well hello to you, too. Are you home already?”

Your eyes slip closed as you lean back against your counter, “yeah, I am.”

Ty can immediately hear the tone change in your voice and he sighs, “what did he do?”

You bite your lip for a couple seconds and then release it all. You tell Ty everything. All your worries and the ways you thought Danny had been acting weird lately, as well as the sinking feeling you couldn’t seem to shake. Ty doesn’t interrupt once and he’s so quiet that you have to check a few times that he’s still there and listening. 

Every time you ask you get the same answer, “of course, I’m always here for you.”

You talk to him until you can barely keep your eyes open and he can hear the exhaustion in your voice. He tells you it’s okay if you need to go to bed because he knows you have an early class the next day and he’d feel awful if he contributed to any sort of sleep deprivation. You finally cave and tell him good night, but you make one last mistake before going to bed. 

You get settled in under your covers and open up your Snapchat map. You don’t usually check it for anything, but something that night tells you to look. You see most of your friends in their normal places, but one name makes your blood run cold. 

Danny’s location shows him somewhere that he had no business being at considering how late at night it was - the Gamma Phi house. You zoom in and out a few times, trying to make sure it was the right place. You finally understand why you’d been having that bad gut feeling lately and why Danny was being so weird. 

You don’t know what to do first, and even though your first instinct is to call Ty and break down to him, you decide you should send Danny a text. You type a message just to delete and retry it a few more times. Eventually you decide on something simple. 

‘I know we’ve been fighting a lot lately, but I still care about you. I love you. You know that right?’

To your surprise the little conversation dots pop up after less than a minute. You hold your breath, hoping the map location had been an odd technical mistake. Once the message finally comes in you feel your world crumble a little. 

‘Yep’

You stare at the message and try to process it. That was all he had to say? You’d been together for the better part of two year, admittedly with some time apart, but this certainly wasn’t the reaction you were expecting. You knew then that he was checked out, and as much as your heart hurts to ask him the next question, you needed to know. You deserved to know. 

‘You’re leaving me again aren’t you?’

This time your question goes unanswered, but he reads it. He’d had his read receipts on since the beginning of the relationship and you were pretty sure he didn’t even remember by then that they were still a thing. Knowing that he read the message but refused to say anything only made matters worse. 

You try and take a couple deep breaths but it’s not working, no matter how hard you try. So you do what you always do when you’re scared or Danny does something that hurts you. You call Ty again. 

“Hello?” He asks, his voice scratchy now compared to when you’d just spoke with him less than an hour ago. 

“Oh shit, are you sleeping?” You ask, pinching the bridge of your nose to try and keep your voice calm. 

He sighs and you can hear him shifting, most likely sitting up, “I kind of was, yeah. What’s wrong?”

“Ty, I…” you begin to say but your voice cracks before you can even get through his name, “I think he’s cheating on me.”

Ty doesn’t have to ask what you mean and you easily hear the frustrated grunt he lets out. He never really liked Danny so you aren’t surprised by his reaction. What you are surprised by is his next question considering what time of night it was. 

“Do you want me to come over?”

Your bottom lip wobbles a little over the question, “yeah, I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Ty gently says goodbye and tells you he’ll be over in a couple minutes. You thank your lucky stars then that your apartments were only a couple blocks from each other because you couldn’t hold it together much longer. 

A knock on the front door has you bolting off of the couch you’d moved yourself to shortly after the phone call ended. You open the door and find a very tired looking Ty, but he still manages a little smile for you. 

“Come here,” he mumbles and takes a step inside. 

You’re quick to wrap your arms around his waist and press your face into him. He hugs you just as tight, but reaches behind him to flip the lock on your door. 

It’s a motion you don’t miss because it’s something you always had to remind Danny to do but it’s something that Ty does naturally because he knows it makes you feel safer. 

Slowly, Ty wobbles you backwards to your room and holds up the covers so you can climb in. He lets them drop and grabs the throw blanket you keep at the end of your bed to cover himself up with. He settles in next to you while you press your forehead against his arm. 

“Why am I never good enough, Ty? Why can’t I date someone and not have them cheat for once?” You mumble, voice muffled by the sleeve of his shirt. 

Ty sighs, pressing a kiss to your head, “you’re more than good enough. I don’t get why he does what he does, but don’t think it’s because somethings wrong with you. You deserve the whole world and the moon.”

You smile a little finally and it makes Ty’s heart a little lighter. If he could break Danny’s jaw he absolutely would, but he knows you wouldn’t be happy about it so he’s never done it. He hates seeing you cry and question yourself when he knows how good you could be treated. 

He keeps most of it to himself though. He waits until he knows you’re fully asleep before he lets himself look down at you. He can’t help but smile when he sees you still pressed against him, red cheeks almost matching his Wisconsin shirt. 

He really means it when he tells you that you deserve the whole world and the moon. 

—

You don’t hear from Danny by the next day and Ty is gone by the time you wake up. Your head is pounding and you consider whether skipping class is worth missing out on the lecture. Eventually you drag yourself out of bed but opt for comfier clothes. 

You pull a hoodie from your closet and slip it on, not realizing what one it was until you saw the ‘21’ embroidered on the red sleeve. You shrug and smirk a little. If Danny wanted to let you go then you’d have more time to hang out with Ty and his friends. 

Class drags by and you pick up a coffee on your way home. The boys had a game that night but your homework was piling up so that took precedence. You’d just have to put the game on in the background. You’re quick to bury yourself in your work, but not before sending Ty your traditional ‘good luck’ text. 

You put your phone down after sending it and get lost in your report, not even realizing the game was well underway, or that you’d missed a few calls and even more texts from Danny. 

A sharp knock on your front door and your roommate's annoyed voice when she opens it lets you know your boyfriend, if he even was that anymore, was there to see you. You roll your eyes and keep working, not bothering to go see what he wanted. 

“Hello to you too,” he grumbles, walking in and sitting on your bed next to you. He looks at your tv and notices the hockey game, but instead of insulting it, his next comment shocks you, “I’m gonna go to Ty’s game with you tomorrow.”

Your eyes almost pop out of your head and you choke on air. He had never called him Ty, always Emberson, and his tone was oddly nice. You eye him carefully, waiting for the joke to be over. 

“You don’t have to,” you remind him, hoping he’ll change his mind. What kind of prank was this? What was he trying to prove?

He smiles and shakes his head, “no it’s fine. I’ll go with you.”

“Are we going to talk about that message I sent you last night?” you ask, glancing over at him.

“Babe,” he sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, “I don’t want to fight with you. I just had to pick up some notes for a class I missed because of a team meeting.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, knowing you couldn’t prove him wrong, “whatever. I wait after the games for Ty though. I’m not changing that just because you’re coming for once. Got it?”

Danny rolls his eyes but doesn’t say another word. You realize he’s staring at the white ‘21’ stitched in the arm of your sweatshirt and you give him a warning look. He knows better than to argue about it. Ty was in your life long before he was, and would be around long after at this rate.

—

The air in the arena is cold, just like you were used to, and you can’t help but smile as you take your seat. This was your happy place and Danny seemed to be quietly taking things in, not having been too big of a pain in the ass for once. He’d made a small comment about the crowd size when you got there but you chose to just ignore him. The only thing that had you nervous was the fact Ty didn’t know Danny was coming that night. You had decided it might be better not to say anything.

The boys take the ice for warmups and as you’re trying to find Ty you do. Except he’s found you first and you can see how tight his jaw is set. He isn’t looking at you. He’s looking at Danny sitting next to you. You try to shoot him a smile but he ignores it, focusing back on the warmups he needed to lead as you feel your shoulders slump when you let out a sigh.

“So Emberson’s like… good then? He’s captain?” Danny asks, motioning vaguely at the ice.

You smile and nod, looking down near the net where he was passing pucks, “yeah he was super excited when they gave it to him. He deserves it though.”

Danny scoffs a little, “yeah, sure he does.”

You force yourself to take a steadying breath, already knowing this would be the longest game of your life. You were wondering if waiting for Ty after was really the best idea, but you weren’t about to break tradition now. 

Danny sits through the whole game with what you would consider minor complaints from him. He makes a couple comments about some shitty plays Ty’s involved in and you yell at him every time for it. Ty got a lot more playing time than Danny and you were quick to remind him of that fact. That got him quiet in a hurry.

You head for the lobby once the arena clears a little and see some of the girlfriends and ‘just friends’ that were around after most of the games, saying hi to the ones you knew. A couple of them eye Danny, not familiar with him being around ever before. It only takes five minutes before Danny starts to complain and embarrass you in front of people.

“Seriously, how long does this dude take? He doesn’t even skate that fast to need to take that long of a shower,” he whines, tugging on your hand as he takes a step towards the door.

You pull your hand back and hiss at him, “that’s enough. I told you I wait for him and I’m not leaving early. Stop.”

“This is stupid,” he says loudly, making you duck your head, “he’s not even your boyfriend. I am. Why are you wasting your time sitting here and waiting for him?”

“Yeah well your girlfriend wasn’t at the Gamma Phi house last night either but you still went there,” you snap, finally sick of him always picking on Ty for no reason.

Danny’s eye twitches a little and he finally lowers his voice, “I told you what I was doing there. I had to get notes from class.”

“You’re a liar and we both know it. What’s her name, Danny? How long have you been fucking her?” you ask through gritted teeth, staring him down despite the height difference between you two.

“Two months. Are you happy now?” he asks, his temper quickly running out, “did you want me to tell you I’m sleeping around? Huh?”

You feel the tears well in your eyes, but not because you’re sad. You’re about to cry because you’re embarrassed and frustrated. You’re ready to pull back and slap him when someone clears their throat behind Danny. He turns around, giving you both a view of Ty standing there with his hands clenched at his sides.

“I’ll give you two minutes to walk out of this arena before I knock you out,” Ty says, his voice so calm it scares you.

You look up at Danny when he glances your way, “we’re over. Don’t call me or text me. Get out of here.”

Danny’s lip snarls and he glares at Ty on his way out, “have fun with her. She’s a psycho and she’ll ruin your life.”

You don’t even listen to his immature little outburst but as soon as he steps out of the arena you try to reach for Ty, wanting a hug more than anything. He steps to the side and heads for the door, leaving you confused.

“Let’s go,” he mumbles, eyes locked on the ground and not checking to see if you’re following as he walks outside.

__

“Ty, I’m sorry. Will you please just talk to me?” You ask, practically begging at this point. 

You’d been trying to get Ty to talk to you for the last eight blocks as you head back towards your apartments. He refused to say a word, but he stayed close to your side as the two of you made the agonizingly long walk back. You weren’t sure what his issue was so you figured you’d just keep apologizing until he gave you some indication of his issue.

“Just stop,” he finally says, “wait until we’re back at your place and then we can talk about this.”

You blush and look down at your shoes, feeling like a little kid who had just been reprimanded. Ty rarely took such a serious tone with you and it had you scared. You weren’t about to lose your boyfriend and best friend in one night, were you? You didn’t think you could handle that.

But you listen to his request and forgo the questions for the time being. You both fall into a silence that’s usually comfortable, but feels completely opposite this time around. Your thoughts are running rapidly through your head and your overthinking makes you worry. You could lose Danny. It sucked, but he’d hurt you enough times that it was okay to not have him anymore. Ty though? You couldn’t lose him. You’d be so lost without him and you’d hate yourself for it for the rest of your life.

You open up your apartment and find it empty, hanging your keys up on the little hook where they belonged. You aren’t sure where to go so you wander into your kitchen, refolding a towel that was already folded on the countertop. Ty leans on the other end of the little peninsula and watches you, reaching up and loosening his tie. 

“What the fuck was that tonight?” he finally asks, watching you fidget with the cloth in your hands.

Your eyebrows pinch as you look over at him, “what do you mean? Danny finally admitting he’s cheating on me or what?”

“Why was he even fucking there? I don’t go to his games so why was he at mine? That’s kind of fucked up, don’t you think?” he asks, his voice raising little by little.

“I don’t know, Ty,” you shrug, setting the towel down again and crossing your arms, “he said he wanted to go and I wasn’t about to miss your game when I finally was able to go to it.”

“You better not fucking go back to him. If you do, I’m done. I’m not watching you get your heart broke again when you know that’s what he’ll do.”

Your heart starts to beat faster as your voice drops, “stop, I’m not going back to him. Don’t even say you’re done. That’s not fair.”

“That’s not fair? Are you kidding me?” he scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief, “you can bring your cheating piece of shit boyfriend to my games and expect me to clean up the messes he makes, but I can’t tell you that I’m done being your safety net? Please tell me how that’s not fair.”

“Ty, please. I need you in my life. I don’t need him and I’m not going back to him. Why are you so mad about this?” you ask, because honestly you don’t think you’d ever seen Ty this worked up before. Especially not towards you and it makes a lump form in your throat.

“When is it my turn?” He asks, his voice strained and his breathing heavy, “when do I get to show you how you should be treated? When do I get to show you what it’s like to actually be cared about?”

“Ty, don’t,” you whisper, tears starting to spill over. 

“Don’t what? Don’t admit that I’m in love with you? I can’t keep lying. I know you let him lie all the time, but I just can’t do it anymore.”

And there it was. The truth you’d been ignoring for three years. For three whole years while Ty stood by you through everything without saying one sour word. Every long night, every heartbreak episode, every time that Danny cheated. He was finally breaking his silence and it took your breath away. 

“All I ever wanted was to see you in my jersey. At my games. But I never got that and all you got was your heart broken while I cleaned up the damage,” he clears his throat, looking up at the ceiling and swallowing hard. 

You’d never seen Ty act like this. Not in the entire time you’d known him. He was always the calm one, the collected one. Everywhere but on the ice and you’d missed far too many of his games for this friendship to be fair. Enough was enough on both of your ends and it wasn’t fair to keep treating him like you had been. You walk over to him and hesitantly reach for his hands, taking them in your smaller ones. He lets you, but you see his bottom lip wobble a little.

“Ty, I’m so sorry,” you whisper, pulling him down for a hug.

You hold onto him so tight you half expect him to push you away so he can breathe, but he wraps you in his arms just as tight. He rests his forehead in the crook of your neck as you play with the little hairs at the nape of his neck.

“I’m sorry, bub. I’m so sorry I did this to you for so long,” you apologize again, feeling like all the words in the world weren’t enough. You’d ignored your feelings for him for all these years and they were finally bubbling to the surface. You weren’t reading this wrong hopefully.

He pulls back, standing up straight, and moves his hands to cup your cheeks, “I hate seeing you upset. I hate seeing you cry. I hate knowing I can’t fix things because I’m not even the one who broke them. I don’t think we’d be perfect but I know for a damn fact I could be so much better to you than he ever was.”

You nod quickly, knowing he was right, “you’ve always been better to me than him. I don’t know why I stuck around him. I guess I figured maybe you didn’t feel that way about me.”

“Are you kidding?” he asks, a little laugh slipping past his lips, “was getting you ice cream and wine on your birthday and sitting next to you while you soaked in the tub because you failed a test not enough proof?”

“Okay, hold on,” you laugh, putting your hand over his mouth.

“No,” he says, muffled at first but then he playfully bites your palm to get you to move your hand, “or how about the time I stayed on facetime with you my entire road trip back from Minnesota because you decided you needed to watch a scary movie and couldn’t fall asleep until I got back and would come sleep over?”

“I get it! I’m sorry!” you interject, but his hands slip down to your sides, starting to tickle you so suddenly you let out a little scream.

He wraps his arms around you then, laughing as well, “don’t scream! Someone’s gonna think I’m hurting you in here!”

You know he’s trying to be serious but you’re both laughing like mad and leaning into each other so much that you aren’t sure who’s holding who up. It takes a few minutes for you both to calm down, but you finally catch your breath. You look up at him again, but this time you glance down at his lips. You’d be a liar if you said you never wondered what kissing him was like.

He seems to catch your drift and leans down slowly, kissing you like he’s scared you’ll run away. Instead you lean into him, feeling giddy and happy and content all at once. Kissing him is better than any other guy you’ve ever kissed in your life, that much you’re sure of. You press a little further, slipping your tongue along his bottom lip until he lets you in.

You’re breathless and blushing when you finally pull back and Ty’s lips are so red you can’t help but brush your thumb along the bottom one. He tips his head quickly and kisses your thumb, a smile already on his face.

“You know when I said you deserve the whole world and the moon the other night?” he asks quietly.

You smile, still remembering that phrase clearly, “yeah, what about it?”

“I’m the one whose going to give you the whole world and the moon. I promise,” he swears, leaning his forehead against yours. You know he’s telling the truth, too, and you can’t wait to see what that promise holds.  

[missmeltycat]

i see u have an oc for the real ghostbusters!!! i dunno if u already paired them or anything but can u do some pairing headcanons for each guy and janine maybe too??

Ohhh wow. OK. This is definitely an interesting challenge. Amusingly, waaaaay back when (We are talking a long time ago) she was paired with Egon, but I have made a number of changes since then and she’s not now.

OK, let’s do this! *Cracks knuckles*

Egon Spengler

Probably takes a LOT of time to actually get anywhere because... Well... It’s Egon!

Either happens as a moment of experimentation seeing if there’s anything between them worth pursuing or not, or part of an adrenaline rush moment.

GUILT. REGRET. “OH GOD WHAT HAVE I DONE! I’M NORMALLY SO LOGICAL!”

Sex? What’s that? Oh, that thing that only happens once in a blue moon?

Nights spent reading together. Egon tries to teach her things since she’s not a scientist like he is.

Kisses are quick and fleeting. Pecks and nips, rarely deeper unless adrenaline or hormones play a part.

Equipment experimentation made purely for Rae’s build and work method.

Love language of reminding the other to eat/drink/sleep. Cleaning of glasses. Maintaining fitness equipment.

Night’s out at the opera/theatre.

Dates at the museum. Egon explaining in great depth about everything.

Rae dragging him to the gym. He doesn’t enjoy it until she gets him to think about it from a scientific and biological standpoint. (He wears a sweatband.)

Yes. Problems with Janine. Oh boy.

Arguments are quick, never long-lasting. Usually a sudden explosion of irrational anger, followed by parting ways in different rooms and coming together with apologies laced with tremendous guilt.

Rae’s family are pretty pleased with Rae’s choice.

Pros:

Sweet and considerate pairing

Comfortable silences and just existing in each other’s spaces

Mutual respect

Maturity

Dependability

Cons:

Janine conflict

Occasional fights due to differences in interests and intellect

Late nights make for cranky people

Egon is all logic, Rae is all muscle - Technically opposites

Egon’s attitude could rub Rae the wrong way, as it can come off as slightly big-headed

Rae can be a bit rough. Egon not so much - Ouch!

Peter Venkman

Probably happens after a fight. Sudden!

Lots of angry, make up sex

Huge amount of flirting

Dates to fast food joints, pizza parlours and ice-cream shops. Possibly music venues

Fights over expenses. Let’s face it. If Peter can get out of paying, he will

Playful punch-u-punch-me matches that usually end up with Peter with bruised arms

“Goals? How many places we can do it in. The storage locker is next!”

Bets. Lots of bets. “Ten bucks says Ray can’t X.” “Ten bucks says Egon messes up.” “Ten bucks says Slimer eats X.” Occasionally “Ten bucks and I’ll eat X” and “Ten bucks says you can’t lift X, Rae!”

Gaming. Competitive gaming. Peter will sulk if he loses.

Evenings spent sleeping happily

Table hockey with utensils and condiments

Kisses are passionate, dirty, messy, lots of tongue

Love language? You mean making out lots? Yeah, that...

No shame in PDA, but not sentimental in nature. More like copping feels

No pressure. More like friends with benefits.

Arguments are usually about Peter’s flirting, or immaturity. They last a while and always end as if they never happened.

Rae is active, Peter prefers slobbing when he can. Rae tries to get him active, he tries to get her to chill more.

Creativity in the form of music. When people say they’ll make sweet music together? They were wrong in this case. Terrible music is more like it. But it’s all good fun.

Rae’s family are charmed by Peter. Wary, but charmed nonetheless.

Pros:

Fun and humour

Amazing physical encounters

No pressure or expectations

Passion

Creativity

Cons:

Immaturity

Overly flirtatious with others (Peter)

Lazy and active don’t mix all that well

Hot tempers

Trust issues

Ray Stantz

Known as ‘The Rays’

Lots of shy glances (Ray)

Self-confidence issues and inadequacy worries (Ray) because Rae works out and he’s... Ray

Anxious confessions

Sweetness, consideration, caring words and actions

Absolutely 100% serious. No room for messing about when it starts

Love language of soft touches, fingers over the hair, face cupping and cheek stroking... Oh and FOOD!

Nights spent on the sofa in blankets and PJs with popcorn

Sex? “Oh boy, are you sure? I mean, are you a hundred percent sure you wanna? I’m not hurting you am I? Am I squishing you too much? Sorry, was that right?”

Cook together a lot. Ray isn’t quite as good, so Rae (Who is knowledgeable on nutrition since she works out etc) often finishes off the dishes and lets him take credit

Dates could be anything. It doesn’t need to be fancy, as long as they’re together.

Kisses are sweet, tender, passionate without being over the top and usually combine with fingers in hair

Mutual respect and love/fascination of the paranormal, ghosts and creatures

Alternating big spoon, little spoon and always very comfortable

Fights? Not very often, but usually doesn’t last long and ends in flowers, chocolates and lots of snuggles

Soft neck kisses, breathless terms of endearment, wandering hands, confidence boosting body worship

Rae lifting Ray with one arm for training, resulting in gushing

Fawning, doodling, love-sick teen type behaviour

Comfortably discuss the future together without awkwardness

Rae’s family are surprised by Rae’s choice, but are absolutely happy with him

Pros:

Sweet and caring

Dependable and loyal

Kind to animals, ghosts and other such creatures

Willingness to always be better

Cons:

Self-confidence issues

Sometimes naive

Occasional know-it-all behaviour

Curiosity that almost kills the cat

Can’t cook so well and has questionable ingredient choices that border on imminent food poisoning danger (Ray)

Winston Zeddemore

Happens smoothly, gradually over time as the pair gain the bond naturally through companionship

Chill as fuck, but absolutely committed and serious

Love language of gifts and showing off in public

Dates at ball games and other sporting events, sometimes at sports bars showing various games

Clubs and music venues until extremely late

Workout buddies

Love to tease Peter together

Will chill out to horror movies together on the couch

Sex is passionate, but considerate, full of respect but occasionally borders on kinky. Sometimes in the shower. Did that door get locked? Oops!

Will discuss relationship stuff anywhere, no shame

Kisses are deep, long-lasting, skin-tinglingly good

Sports in the park on afternoons off

Will gladly spot Rae when she lifts weights

Games of catch with equipment and contests with how far or how high things can be thrown

Rae cooks his favourite meal every month just because

He will give her full body massage after her workouts

Arguments are strong, as they are both strong willed people. They last a little longer than they probably should, with lots of huffing and passing messages through other people. Making up, though, always the best part

Mutual enjoyment of harder music genres

Rae tries to encourage him to be more active in the group, as he’s sometimes overshadowed by the others

Always help each other out and share chores equally

Nudes exchanged. Absolutely

Rae’s family take to him quite quickly and are absolutely pleased

Pros:

Active

Mutual respect

Openly proud and shows off the other

Responsible 

Loving and passionate

Open to new ideas

Cons:

Strong personalities, so sometimes clash

Sometimes shies away from challenges

Some PTSD issues (From the canonical military experience)

His passion for things sometimes trump other things, such as date nights or other promises

Janine Melnitz

This one was a random one and happened as a result of harmless flirting at the reception desk, probably as an assurance that Rae wasn’t after Egon, but it ended in something surprising for both

Bitching to each other about the guys a lot, a little club of two

Janine drags Rae shopping a lot, mostly to spend time together, but also because Rae can actually carry the shopping with no problem with her muscles

Dates at fancy restaurants and wine bars where Janine gets dressed up and Rae feels uncomfortable in a dress

Janine will offer to give her make overs, which always amuses the guys

Love language of comforting hugs, washing each others hair, giving each other shoulder massages, doing small things such as put incense on when the other is feeling stressed out and little notes left around for each other to find

Mail order flowers

Both of their apartments become used equally as bases and it’s never known which they will be at at any given point

Arguments are loud and sometimes vicious in nature, which prompts the guys to demand they make up. Usually ends with crying and hugging and huge apologies

Nights binging series or movies with pizza, ice-cream and soda

Will both kick Peter’s ass if he’s not careful

Intimacy is usually sweet and loving, but with a spark of passion. And, yes, absolutely open to others to join... By others Janine means Egon

Kisses are sudden and big smooches, or quick pecks on the fly

Janine will phone to make sure Rae is OK when out on assignment, sometimes becoming a nuisance. She will also threaten everyone to look after her, or she’ll kick the crap out of them

Rae’s family are a little shocked over her choice, but completely pleased with Janine.

Pros:

Playful banter

Reliable, responsible and loyal

Conscious of feelings

Pretty badass, let’s face it

Cons:

Cranky and overly emotional 

Jealous

Sometimes clumsy to the point of endangerment

[flirting-with-psychology]

1. I own a ferret. 2. My best friend is my boyfriend 3. My best friend is a girl 4. I use the word super way too much 5. I am a boy 6. I like My Chemical Romance 7. I own more than 100 CDs 8. I like discussing politics 9. I collect state quarters 10. The Legend of Zelda is my favorite video game. 11. I have Cingular 12. I love MAC makeup 13. I smoke too much 14. I own more than 5 bandanas 15. My favorite movie is Kill Bill 16. I watched Lamb Chop when I was young 17. I have my ears gauged 18. I can do HTML without guidance 19. I watch Spongebob Squarepants regularly. 20. I go to the movies at least once a week 21. I play guitar or bass 22. I love Elvis 23. I’ve had a mo/bi/trihawk before 24. I have met my favorite band 25. I like to hardcore dance 26. Something’s outside my window 27. I believe in ghosts 28. I do drugs regularly 29. I am straightedge 30. My favorite feature about myself is my lips 31. I have never consumed alcohol 32. I want a tattoo. 33. My favorite actor is Will Ferrell. 34. I have seen Conan O'Brien live. 35. I hate MTV 36. I used to watch Cheaters every week 37. I have my own vaccuum 38. Frank Sinatra is awesome 39. I sleep with a stuffed animal 40. I am scared of werewolves 41. I watch hockey regularly 42. I am originally from New York 43. I own an iPod 44. Some people aren’t funny. 45. I hate school. 46. My favorite vegetable is lettuce. 47. Tickle fights are fun. 48. I am currently unemployed. 49. I have my license 50. I hate spelling mistakes 51. I love Spanish class 52. I live in a big city 53. I have been to the Grand Canyon 54. I listen to music to fall asleep 55. I watch TV to fall asleep 56. I only get a few hours of sleep each night 57. I’m relatively innocent. 58. I am a size 3 or smaller 59. I’m bored. 60. Purple is my favorite color. 61. I hate flossing 62. I have a car. 63. I believe in God 64. I’m in love. 65. I used to love Unwritten Law. 66. Reno 911 is my favorite show. 67. There is a mini stapler on my computer desk. 68. Cuddling’s my favorite. 69. For sure. 70. I have a flip phone 71. I love my handwriting 72. I own a Louis Vuitton handbag 73. I want to be an astronaut. 74. I love the song Dragostea Din Tei 75. 50 Cent is not talented 76. I like scanners better than digital cameras. 77. I own at least one Punk-O-Rama CD 78. My room is sound proof. 79. I’m 5'5 or less 80. Lying pisses me off 81. I backstab people. 82. I have been in a fist fight. 83. I have PaintShop Pro. 84. It’s almost midnight 85. My nightlight is cracked 86. I only listen to Dashboard Confessional when I’m sad 87. And I feel like a pansy when I do so 88. I hate metal 89. I’m in a band. 90. Napoleon Dynamite is annoying now. 91. I love hickeys 92. I want to lose weight 93. My favorite channel is the Food Network. 94. I don’t have a CD burner. 95. Pixar is stupid except for the Incredibles 96. I own an apartment/house 97. I am engaged. 98. My computer’s a Gateway. 99. I hate driving. 100. I like watching boys sleep. =========================== 01. I miss someone right now 02. I don’t watch much TV these days 03. I love olives 04. I love sleeping 05. I own lots of books 06. I wear glasses or contact lenses 07. I love to play video games 08. I’ve tried marijuana 09. I’ve watched porn movies 10. I have been in a threesome 11. I have been the psycho-ex in a past relationship 12. I believe honesty is usually the best policy 13. I have acne free skin usually 14. I like and respect Al Sharpton 15. I curse frequently 16. I have changed a lot mentally over the last year 17. I have a hobby 18. I’ve been told I can suck the chromes off a trailer hitch. 19. I carry my knife/razor everywhere with me 20. I’m smart 21. I’ve never broken someone’s bones 22. I have a secret that I am ashamed to reveal 23. I hate the rain 24. I’m paranoid at times 25. I would get plastic surgery if it were 100% safe, free of cost, and scars. 26. I need money right now! 27. I love Sushi 28. I talk really, really fast sometimes 29. I have fresh breath in the morning 30. I have semi-long hair 31. I have lost money in Las Vegas 32. I have at least one brother and/or one sister 33. I was born in a country outside of the U.S. 34. I shave my legs 35. I have a twin 36. I have worn fake hair/fingernails/eyelashes in the past 37. I couldn’t survive without Caller I.D. 38. I like the way that I look sometimes 39. I have lied to a good friend in the last 6 months 40. I know how to do cornrows 41. I am usually pessimistic 42. I have a lot of mood swings 43. I think prostitution should be legalized 44. I think Britney Spears is hot 45. I have cheated on a significant other in the past 46. I have a hidden talent 47. I’m always hyper no matter how much sugar I have. 48. I think that I’m popular 49. I am currently single 50. I have kissed someone of the same sex 51. I enjoy talking on the phone 52. I practically live in sweatpants or PJ pants 53. I love to shop. 54. I would rather shop than eat 55. I would classify myself as ghetto. 56. I’m bourgie and have worn a sweater tied around my shoulders 57. I’m obsessed with my Livejournal 58. I don’t hate anyone. 59. I’m a pretty good dancer 60. I don’t think Mike Tyson raped Desiree Washington 61. I’m completely embarrassed to be seen with my mother 62. I have a cell phone 63. I believe in God/ a higher being. 64. I watch MTV/Vh1 on a daily basis 65. I have passed out drunk in the past 6 months 66. I love drama. 67. I have never been in a real romantic relationship before 68. I’ve rejected someone before 69. I currently have a crush on someone 70. I have no idea what I want to do for the rest of my life 71. I want to have children in the future 72. I have changed a diaper before 73. I’ve called the cops on a friend before 74. I bite my nails 75. I am a member of the Tom Green fan club 76. I’m not allergic to anything 77. I have a lot to learn 78. I have dated someone at least 10 years older or younger 79. I plan on seeing Ice Cube’s newest “Friday” movie 80. I am sometimes shy around the opposite sex 81. I’m online 24/7, even as an away message 82. I have at least 5 away messages saved 83. I have tried alcohol or drugs before 84. I have made a move on a friend’s significant other in the past 85. I own the “South Park” movie 86. I have avoided assignments at work/school to be on Xanga or Livejournal 87. When I was a kid I played “the birds and the bees” with a neighbor or chum 88. I enjoy some country music 90. I think that Pizza Hut has the best pizza 91. I watch soap operas whenever I can 92. I’m obsessive, anal retentive, and often a perfectionist 93. I have used my sexuality to advance my career 94. I love Michael Jackson, scandals and all 95. I know all the words to Slick Rick’s “Children’s Story” 96. Halloween is awesome because you get free candy 97. I watch Spongebob Squarepants and I like it 98. I have dated a close friend’s ex 99. I’m happy as of this moment 100. I was born in the 80s but I am truly a child of the 90s  101. I have slapped john dasaro and chris burke in the face..on the same night 102. I haven’t showered in two days… and I like it. 103. i own every f***er here 104. I procrastinate all the time 105. I’m a nerd 106. I LOVE the movie The Wedding Singer. 107. i hate corn. 108. i’ve attended the rocky horror picture show 109. i’ve never seen Bambi the movie 110. Thinking about the future terrifies me 111. Without music there would be no point in living. 112. If I could change one thing about myself I would 113. If someone of the same sex liked me, I would date them. 114. I went to the mall today for 5 hours ================================ Would do Have Done

001. Bought everyone in the pub a drink 002. Swam with wild dolphins 003. Climbed a mountain *004. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive 005. Been inside the Great Pyramid 006. Held a tarantula. *007. Taken a candlelit bath with someone 008. Said ‘I love you’ and meant it. 009. Hugged a tree *010. Done a striptease 011. Bungee jumped *012. Visited Paris 013. Watched a lightning storm at sea *014. Stayed up all night long, and watch the sun rise several times *015. Seen the Northern Lights 016. Gone to a huge sports game 017. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa *018. Grown and eaten your own vegetables *019. Touched an iceberg *020. Slept under the stars 021. Changed a baby’s diaper 022. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon *023. Watched a meteor shower *024. Gotten drunk on champagne *025. Given more than you can afford to charity 026. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope 027. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment 028. Had a food fight 029. Bet on a winning horse 030. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill 031. Asked out a stranger 032. Had a snowball fight 033. Photocopied your bottom on the office photocopier 034. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can 035. Held a lamb 036. Organized and planned a surprise party for a loved one *037. Taken a midnight skinny dip 038. Taken an ice cold bath 039. Had a meaningful conversation with a beggar 040. Seen a total eclipse 041. Ridden a roller coaster 042. Hit a home run 043. Fit three weeks miraculously into three days 044. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking *045. Adopted an accent for an entire day 046. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors 047. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment *048. Had two hard drives for your computer *049. Visited all 50 states 050. Loved your job for all accounts *051. Taken care of someone who was really sick *052. Had enough money to be truly satisfied 053. Had amazing friends 054. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country *055. Watched wild whales 056. Stolen a sign 057. Backpacked in Europe *058. Taken a road-trip 059. Rock climbing 060. Lied to foreign government’s official in that country to avoid notice *061. Midnight walk on the beach 062. Sky diving *063. Visited Ireland 064. Been heartbroken longer then you were actually in love 065. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table and had a meal with them *066. Visited Japan 067. Bench pressed your own weight 068. Milked a cow 069. Alphabetized your records 070. Pretended to be a superhero 071. Sung karaoke 072. Lounged around in bed all day 073. Protested something you feel strongly against 074. Scuba diving *075. Got it on to “Let’s Get It On” by Marvin Gaye 076. Kissed in the rain 077. Played in the mud 078. Played in the rain *079. Gone to a drive-in theater 080. Done something you should regret, but don’t regret *081. Visited the Great Wall of China 082. Discovered that someone who’s not supposed to have known about your blog has discovered your blog 083. Dropped Windows in favor of something better 084. Started a business 085. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken 086. Toured ancient sites 087. Taken a martial arts class 088. Swordfought for the honor of a woman 089. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight *090. Gotten married 091. Been in a movie 092. Crashed a party 093. Loved someone you shouldn’t have *094. Kissed someone so passionately it made them dizzy 095. Gotten divorced 096. Started an office war 097. Gone without food for 5 days 098. Made cookies from scratch 099. Won first prize in a costume contest 100. Ridden a gondola in Venice 101. Gotten a tattoo 102. Found that the texture of some materials can turn you on 103. Rafted the Snake River 104. Been on television news programs as an “expert" 105. Got flowers for no reason 106. Made out in a public place 107. Got so drunk you don’t remember anything 108. Been addicted to some form of illegal drug 109. Performed on stage 110. Been to Las Vegas 111. Recorded music 112. Eaten shark *113. Drank an entire 6 pack by yourself *114. Gone to Thailand 115. Seen Siouxsie *116. Bought a house 117. Been in a combat zone 118. Buried one/both of your parents 119. Shaved all of your hair off *120. Been on a cruise ship 121. Spoken more than one language fluently 122. Gotten into a fight while attempting to defend someone 123. Bounced a check 124. Performed in theatre 125. Read - and understood - your credit report *126. Raised children 127. Recently bought and played with a favorite childhood toy *128. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour *129. Created and named your own constellation of stars 130. Taken a bicycle tour in a foreign country 131. Found out something significant that your ancestors did 132. Called or written your Congress person 133. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over 135. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge 136. Sang loudly in the car, and didn’t stop when you knew someone was looking 137. Had an abortion 138. Had plastic surgery 139. Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived 140. Wrote articles for a large publication 141. Lost over 100 pounds 142. Held someone while they were having a flashback 143. Piloted an airplane 144. Petted a stingray 145. Broken someone’s heart 146. Helped an animal give birth 147. Been fired or laid off from a job 148. Won money on a TV game show 149. Broken a bone 150. Killed a human being *151. Gone on an African photo safari 152. Ridden a motorcycle 153. Driven any land vehicle at a speed of greater than 100mph 154. Had a body part of yours below the neck pierced 155. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol 156. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild 157. Ridden a horse 158. Had major surgery 159. Ridden on a passenger train 160. Had a snake as a pet 161. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon 162. Slept through an entire flight: takeoff, flight, and landing 163. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours 164. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states *165. Visited all 7 continents 166. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days 167. Eaten kangaroo meat 168. Fallen in love at an ancient Mayan burial ground 169. Been a sperm or egg donor 170. Eaten sushi 171. Had your picture in the newspaper 172. Had 2 (or more) healthy romantic relationships for over a year in your lifetime *173. Changed someone’s mind about something you care deeply about 174. Gotten someone fired for their actions 175. Gone back to school 176. Parasailed 177. Changed your name 178. Petted a cockroach 179. Eaten fried green tomatoes 180. Read The Iliad 181. Selected one "important” author who you missed in school, and read 182. Dined in a restaurant and stolen silverware, plates, cups because your apartment needed them 183. …and gotten 86'ed from the restaurant because you did it so many times, they figured out it was you 184. Taught yourself an art from scratch 185. Killed and prepared an animal for eating 186. Apologized to someone years after inflicting the hurt *187. Skipped all your school reunions 188. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language 189. Been elected to public office 190. Written your own computer language 191. Thought to yourself that you’re living your dream 192. Had to put someone you love into hospice care 193. Built your own PC from parts 194. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn’t know you 195. Had a booth at a street fair 196: Dyed your hair blue 197: Been a DJ 198: Found out someone was going to dump you via LiveJournal 199: Written your own role playing game 200: Been arrested ====================== 1. I have self-mutilated before. 2. I still love the song Dragostea Din Tei 3. I used to like New Kids on the Block 4. The 80s was funny. 5. I have realtones enabled on my cellular phone. 6. Public bathrooms scare me 7. I have keys on my belt 8. I’m not wearing a belt 9. I hate writing 10. I hate reading 1. I love compilation CDs 12. My favorite teachers have all been guys 13. I think Bad Religion’s only been around for ten or so years 14. I don’t know who Bad Religion is. 15. I don’t wear my hood unless it’s raining 16. I enjoy smaller clubs rather than big ones 17. I’ve put a song on repeat for more than 8 hours 18. I have sound on my computer  19. Someone wants my hiney. 20. My mom loves Elvis 21. I have my own computer 22. I live on the east coast 23. My favorite animal is a kangaroo 24. I’m on vacation 25. I don’t own a pair of ripped jeans 26. I am very insecure somewhat 27. I love to dance 28. I curse way too much. 29. I choose the pansy way and star out my curse words (f*ck) 30. I feel dumb because I was just called a pansy 31. I have a flatscreen computer 32. I collect something. 33. I’m married 34. I won’t date someone who’s smaller than me smaller, as in also shorter? 35. Brass knuckles are the shit. 36. I own a hand puppet 37. I write with blue pens 38. I wear eye makeup almost every day 39. I wish I lived somewhere other than here 40. I don’t own a band shirt. Not yet anyway.. 41. I love techno. 42. I have my nipples pierced 43. I’m shitty at wrapping presents 44. I know someone in the KKK 45. I’m racist/anti-semitist. 46. I don’t know what those mean. 47. I love life most of the time 48. I have posters all over my room 49. I’ve never been a camera whore with someone.. And I want to. 50. I’m halfway done 51. I wish I lived in the 80s 52. I know what the term borgie means 53. I’m interested in social hierarchy. 54. I love music videos. 55. I have a DVD player 56. I’m drunk right now 57. I’m listening to music 58. I have a big screen TV 59. I have an STD 60. I know the singer of the Clash’s name 61. The only IM program I have is AIM 62. I skateboard regularly 63. I live on the north side of town 64. I have been to Alaska 65. I’ve worn a cowboy hat 66. I watch late night infomercials for retarded, unnecessary things 67. I LOVE DOING THE DEATH GROWL TO MY FAVORITE METAL SONGS. 68. That last question was dumb. 69. I know what the word “peligroso” means in English 70. I speak another language fluently 71. I’ve been in a limo 72. I own a bong 73. My lungs hurt 74. I know someone who’s committed suicide 75. I’ve got a six pack and I don’t need you! 76. I know what band sung the above line 77. I like strong boys. 78. I’m sick right now 79. I know someone who’s currently enlisted in the army 80. I do not own a color phone 81. My birthday is in September 82. I hate mall cops 83. I hate most cops in general 84. I’m wearing blush 85. I live in an apartment 86. I’m still in high school. 87. I own something from Victoria’s Secret 88. I don’t know a boy that wears girls pants 89. I’ve had the same best friend since I was 8. 90. Brownies are my favorite 91. So is cake 92. I’ve heard the song “Looks Good in Leather” 93. I own some sort of propaganda, fake or real 94. I deny the Holocaust happened 95. Kisses are my favorite sign of affection 96. I need to charge my phone 97. My purse could pass for a suitcase 98. I take birth control 99. I only buy what’s fashionable

1. I love bolding 2. I know someone named Mimi 3. I hate my old best friend 4. My favorite alcoholic drink is Jack n Coke 5. I have a digital camera 6. I’m talking to at least one person online 7. I like watching college basketball 8. I have never moved. 9. I have at least one cat 10. I have at least one dog 11. I’m going to see a movie tonight maybe 12. I make my own AIM icons 13. I’m in pain 14. I watch more than five shows a day 15. I love the Cure 16. My parents like some of the same music I do 17. I have never been to the dentist 18. I listen to the radio 19. I do my own laundry 20. I’ve made at least one article of clothing 21. I have/want something on my face pierced 22. I go to at least one concert a week 23. I’ve written a story 24. I’ve dyed my hair every color of the rainbow 25. I own a Grand Theft Auto game 26. My favorite pattern is camoflauge 27. I know someone who does/did cocaine 28. I have too many game systems 29. I love scary movies 30. I hate scary movies 31. I’ve had sex more than 5 times 32. My favorite chips are Lays Original 33. I think butter is unhealthy 34. I hate the Osbournes 35. I used to have dreadlocks 36. I need to take medicine for something 37. I suffer from insomnia 38. I speak ebonics 39. I’ve gambled 40. And won 41. I have at least one gay friend 42. I like going to pet stores 43. I own a dog toy 44. And I don’t have a dog 45. I own more than ten candles 46. I’ve smoked a cigarette in the shower before 47. I’ve flunked a class 48. I listen to music every day 49. I have more than one nickname 50. I wear pajamas when I feel like it 51. I’m wearing more than one jewelry item 52. I haven’t washed my hair in a week 53. I watch the Grammy’s every year 54. Along with the Macy’s Parade 55. My favorite season is winter 56. I have seen the All American Rejects live 57. And I’ve enjoyed it. 58. Boobs are nothing special 59. I go swimming at least once a week in summer. 60. I have a pool. 61. I’ve gone skinnydipping 62. I’ve played strip poker 63. And lost 64. I want a nautical star tattoo 65. My cell phone turns off when it’s charging 66. And it pisses me off 67. I used to buy my entire wardrobe from Hot Topic 68. I’ve been to albinoblacksheep.com 69. My favorite subject is History 70. And/or math 71. I am a republican 72. I am a democrat 73. I listen to the Used occasionally 74. I have been to the Warped Tour 75. I am part Mexican 76. I am part German 77. All of my grandparents are still alive. 79. I love bowling 80. I know that there is a South Park, Colorado 81. I love Dairy Queen 82. Sometimes I think I’m crazy 83. I own a Moffatts CD 84. I own a Backstreet Boys CD 85. I want plastic surgery 86. Operation, operation, snip and tie, snip and tie 87. I know what song that line is from 88. I have killed something [bugs!] 89. I’ve never had a Nokia cell phone 90. I’m never sarcastic 91. Light eyes turn me on 92. I have never been to a foreign country 93. I don’t eat enough 94. I own illegal weaponry 95. I know someone who has overdosed on something 96. And lived to tell about it 97. I don’t own a pair of mittens 98. I love the heat 99. I’ve never had a steady boyfriend/gf 100. I want to makeout.

[belladonnaandulriched]

the dead of night | chapter one

I had no idea if I could stand up right, but then again I watched Frankie lift himself up on the ground as if he was doing his own push ups. He brushed himself off and turned to me with a hand extended out. I held onto his hand; he used his other hand to set onto my shoulder to help me up.

When he and I were face to face, he gazed on at me with a frightened look upon his face.

“What year do you think it is?” he asked me in a low voice; I glanced over at Hannah and Joey nearing us. I returned to him and shook my head.

“What are you guys doing here?” she asked us.

“We were—looking—for something,” Frankie sputtered and I could

“We were looking for something, too,” Hannah replied as she put her arm around Joey's lower back: I spotted her hand on his hip. The solemn look on her face told it all. Francine had just gone missing.

“D'you guys call the police?” I asked Joey.

“Francine's parents did, but neither of us felt like it was going to help matters,” he confessed with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Yeah, especially since she went missing in Canada,” Hannah added, to which her face fell. I never realized how much she resembled to that of a doll with her full round face and milky skin and her deep dark eyes. Kristina had long blonde almost silvery white hair which reminded me of Hannah's near black locks, but if I recalled it well, Hannah was part Native American like Joey himself; except she was also part Scandinavian rather than half Italian like him.

All I knew from their story was that they met when they were kids and they separated some time in middle school, because she moved over to Rochester and he became Mr. Hockey Player. They found each other again when he entered the fold at Anthrax and we had put out Armed and Dangerous with him, and then I had no idea what happened after that. They separated again after Spreading the Disease and then we let Joey go before State of Euphoria, and there they were again. I had my hair back again, though.

“Yeah, Scott, I remember you sayin' we had to put production on hold just to find Francine,” Joey pointed out with a slight smirk on his face. Didn't really help matters, but I knew Frankie and I had to go along with it. But then again, Joey was still babyfaced like when he first joined, so all I could assume was we had gone back to just prior to our showing him the door.

“Uh, yeah,” was all I could say. He chuckled at me and all I could feel was my face growing warm.

“Yeah, I remember you actually calling up me and Joey and saying 'production is being put on hold because it's an emergency we're dealing with here',” Hannah recalled, complete with a telephone gesture up to her ear. So they were living together. “You don't remember doing that? You also told us to meet you here at this very corner.”

“Yeah, it was like just this morning,” Joey added.

“Of course I remember it!” I exclaimed. “It's just—I didn't think you guys'd get here as quickly as you did.”

“Hey, if it's Francine or my mom or anybody we care about, we're gonna get here stat, Scott,” Joey assured me.

“Stat Scott,” she echoed. “Gonna stat some Scott.”

“Bit of a tongue twister, too,” Frankie pointed out, which made the two of them laugh.

“Well, come along—I see Nancy and her new boy up ahead,” Hannah gestured up the block. Frankie shivered and followed her along; I ran my fingers through that stringy hair around the crown of my head and followed suit. Frankie and I emerged from the alleyway to the sidewalk and the street, where we were met with those tall buildings making up the skyline of New York City. I wondered who Nancy was as I stared up at the apartment buildings on the block. Something metallic drifted up above the rooftop of the building closest to us. I didn't what it was but something about it made me squirm in the soles of my shoes. I peered down to the street before us.

A pillar of smoke floated up from a manhole cover and vaporized into nothing. Next to the pillar was a small neon blue light on a post. Something moved in the light and the smoke.

A ghost. A faint ghost about the color of the blue neon emerged from the fog. Three more appeared from the vent on the storm drain before they vaporized into nothing.

Nightmares. Nightmares were all I could think about.

I could hear them talking to one another next to Frankie and me.

“It's okay—we're gonna find her,” I heard him whisper to her. I turned my head to find Hannah putting her arms around Joey's svelte waist, and his resting his hand on the back of her head. I wondered about the warmth between the two of them, and it made me miss Kristina even more.

I glanced up at ahead to another dark haired woman standing on the corner with—

“Is that Geddy Lee,” Frankie blurted out.

Joey and Hannah glanced over at us with beaming grins on their faces. I couldn't resist the grin on my face at the sight of that hooked nose and those feathery bangs over deep set eyes. He looked nothing like from this era, however: he had shed his long hair by this era, or so I thought. I wondered about him, especially when they entered our view and I noticed his skin was smooth, much like Joey's face.

“Hey, you two,” Joey squeaked out; his voice quivered and waved with excitement.

“There they are,” I heard Nancy say. She showed off a big red wine colored smile at us and gestured towards the four of us.

“Ah, the infamous New Yorkers,” Geddy's Canadian accent cut through me like a knife. I couldn't believe it when he neared us.

“Scott, Frank—this is my friend Nancy Kensington,” Hannah introduced us. “Art student from Seattle.”

“And I've met ya already,” Joey replied with a wink of his eye.

“I know you have,” Nancy taunted him with a grin on her face.

“By the way, what even happened with you and Chris?” Hannah asked her.

“We broke up—it went downhill pretty quickly, like... over the course of a few months. Dominique and Matt broke up, too.”

“Oh, damn,” Frankie remarked.

“Yeah,” Nancy raised her dark eyebrows in answer. “He and I broke up but I found him, though.” She glanced over to Geddy and those large specs over his narrow face, to which he nodded his head from side to side.

“That girl also disappeared in Toronto, too,” he pointed out. “We came together out of intensity.”

“Francine?” Frankie corrected him.

“That's right! She went missing in the dead of night in Toronto.”

“He's more of a cop than a cop,” Joey cracked, which brought a laugh out of all of us.

“Well, let's get out of the street, shall we?” Nancy suggested as she adjusted the shoulder strap of her bag. “You guys look cold and I feel like there's something watching us.” She peered up at the apartment buildings again, and I followed her gaze to the metallic object up above the rooftop.

“What even is that?” I asked her. “Do you know?”

“It's a drone,” said Hannah. “I'm glad it's way the hell up there, too. Joey said he feels weird when one comes closer to him.”

“Yeah, Lars and I were over in Boston a while back and we saw one of those,” Joey recalled.

“I've seen a few up in Canada, too,” Geddy added as he put his arm around Nancy's shoulder. “You get like this shaky, frightful feeling within you—like you're about to be attacked by something vicious.” He pointed across the street to a small bright lit cafe.

“Let's go there—looks warm and toasty in there.”

“We can have a cup of Joey and a glass of wine,” Hannah declared.

“Exactly!” he laughed. Joey and the girls stepped towards the curb, and Frankie stood next to Joey with his arms folded across his chest, even though he wore a light sweater. Geddy, meanwhile, turned to me. I could see those eyes of his digging deep within me behind the gradient shades. He gestured for me to come closer to him.

“What era are you from?” he asked me in a low enough voice for me to hear over the slight noise of the street.

“The pandemic era,” I said. “Frankie and me both—we came back to find Francine and for me to meet up with—someone dear to me.”

“A young lady?”

“Yeah. A girl I went to school with and—kinda had a thing with. It was totally a secret so no one from that era knows I'm here.”

“Well—Alex and I came back to redo things for Presto and Hold Your Fire, but apparently year numbers are things you can miss upon time travel, especially when you have a wild mind such as mine. We wanted to hit it through again, so we tried again.”

“And now—you're here.”

“We're here. Well, I am, anyways. Alex is back home with his girlfriend and his baby.”

I raised his eyebrows at him.

“And yes. Neil is with us, too.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but no sound came out. He gestured for me to come in closer to him. He peered over at Joey, Frankie, Hannah, and Nancy at the curb.

“I know how transient everything can be,” he whispered to me. “I know how things can end, and so quickly.”

Something caught my eye.

I recognized her long platinum blonde hair down to her waist. Like one of the ghosts roaming about the street, except her dress and her cloak whipped behind her in the winds rather than become part of the scenery. I knew that guitar case on her back anywhere. Geddy followed my gaze.

“Is that her?” I nodded my head.

“Kristina!” I exclaimed and my voice echoed over the pavement before us. She turned her head to show me her deep set dark eyes, a sharp contrast to that long blonde hair. Her eyes fixated onto me. I thought I would never see those eyes again following the release of Volume 8.

The corners of her mouth curled up into a warm Mona Lisa type smile.

“Kristina!” I repeated, to which she hurried towards me. She gripped onto the strap of her guitar case and hurried over to me: strands of her long blonde hair streamed behind her head. Her black lace skirt billowed behind her legs like a sail. A firm feeling emerged inside of my throat. Over twenty years without her, and yet it was about to hold off for the time being for me.

“Hey, Scott,” she greeted me in that kind voice once she came within earshot.

[365days365movies]

January 5, 2021: The Running Man (1987) (Part 1)

Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Stallone, I hadn’t seen a lot of, Arnie, on the other hand. Oh, I’ve seen plenty of Arnold Schwarzenegger. Conan the Barbarian, The Terminator, Commando, Predator, Total Recall, Terminator 2: Judgement Day, Jingle All the Way, Batman and Robin, and Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines fills my list of seen Arnie films. What’s missing?

Kindergarten Cop, Twins, Junior, Last Action Hero, and True Lies certainly come to mind. And yeah, you might’ve noticed that those are all action-comedies. Two of these will be seen during Comedy April; one’s gonna be watched tomorrow. Of course, there are still other movies missing in that list above, but Schwarzenegger has a LOT of movies. And so, today, we’re going for one of his ‘80s action films, based off of a Stephen King story. That’d be a little movie called The Running Man.

A movie set in the far-flung dystopian future of...2019...The Running Man is one of Schwarzenegger’s understated classics, at least as compared to his other dynamos of the era. All I know is, it’s his only major big pure action film of the time that’s slipped under my radar. I don’t have any particular expectations going in, but I’m expecting some typical Schwarzenanigans. 

WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD!

Recap

So, the global economy collapsed in 2017, eventually leading to a global police state and state-controlled television. High censorship reigns, and the most popular show (of all time, apparently) is a gladiator-type series called “The Running Man.” Any dissent is quickly crushed, which (naturally) has led to a small underground resistance movement, like it always does. 

As we start, police helicopter pilot Ben Richards (Arnold Schwarzenegger), an authority figure with a conscience (unsurprisingly), using his vehicle (which operates off of the above seen UNIXSYSTEM (I know this)) to monitor and detect potential riots. Richards proceeds to defy orders to fire on innocent citizens who only want food, and gets knocked out by his coworkers.

We cut to 18 months later, where Richards is confined to a work camp, where people die, and nobody’s loved. They’re all wearing detonator collars, and I know the plot of the movie.

Seriously, the plot, the ending, Schwarzenegger’s role, it’s all done. I got it. I’ve seen this story a thousand times. He’s gonna be recruited to join the Running Man game show that the guards are talking about, escape just before they’re gonna kill him (probably), join up with the rebellion, bring new life into them, probably fall in love at some point, and then take down the head of the police state and/or the game show.

I got this. Which is a little disappointing, if I’m right. Automatically got some points against it, but hopefully I’ll still enjoy the ride. 

Anyway, back to the gulag. Schwarzenegger and another prisoner stage a fight, allowing the third prisoner to try hacking the perimeter fence that triggers the collars. After losing a guy so that we can see somebody’s head blow up, the perimeter is shut down, and all of the prisoners escape. 

Meanwhile, in Los Angeles, we’re introduced to the Running Man, a DOJ-sponsored game show in which the contestants are “criminals, traitors, and enemies of the state,” who are essentially executed on national television. Dark. I like it. Our escapees meet up with the underground, and they get their collars taken off. Not wanting to get involved in any rebellion (yeah, OK, sure), Richards leaves the city. And he’s definitely never gonna come back for any reason.

We now meet our villain of the piece, Damon Killian, played by the Kissing Bandit himself, Richard Dawson. And I’m not gonna lie, casting Dawson as the country’s greatest game show host is...great, it’s great, it’s one of my favorite casting choices so far this month. Dawson, for those of you who didn’t know, was the first host of Family Feud. He also had a well-known penchant for kissing the female contestants that came on the show. That’s how he earned the moniker, “The Kissing Bandit.” And yeah, it was a little creepy, in retrospect.

Killian immediately comes off as a two-faced slime, and I am more ready for this character than I have ever been. I mean, an evil game show host? SOLD! If they ever remake this movie, I would give good money to see either John O’Hurley or (please, please) Steve Harvey take up this role, since both have been Family Feud hosts. Could you imagine?

We also meet Amber, our inevitable love interest played by Maria Conchita Alonso, who’s watching the news, with Ben’s face on it. We learn that he’s known as the “Butcher of Bakersfield,” being framed as a “maniac” who fired on innocent civilians (when, of course, that’s what he was trying to prevent. I feel like there’s a comment on the media to be made here, but I ain’t gonna make it. Yet.). Amber now lives in his brother’s apartment, as he was taken for reeducation. I’m sure he’s fine.

Killian sees footage of the escape, wants Ben Richards for the show, and immediately calls the President’s agent to make it happen. I love it. Richards, in the meanwhile, coerces a tied up Amber to help him get out of the city. We get to see the treat of a 6′4″ Austrian man wearing a badly-fitting Hawaiian shirt, which just looks ridiculous, and I appreciate it. 

It immediately doesn’t work, and she rats him out, leading to his inevitable capture by the cops, and to our hero meeting our villain for the first time. 

Dawson makes Ben an offer he can’t refuse, having kidnapped his prison friends in order to coerce Ben to compete in his show, “The Running Man.” Ben agrees, and is subjected to a medical procedure and sedated. Amber, in the meantime, starts to realize that the government sucks, and might be framing Richards. And then, Climbing For Dollars comes on.

I am more confident than I should that that show either does or will exist. Bet.

Anyway, Ben “The Butcher of Bakersfield” is the main attraction on the show tonight! We get a montage of women dancing on a darkened stage in ‘80s tights, choreographed by original American idol judge, Paula Abdul! Small world, that. 

Damon Killian comes on stage, pouring on the smarmy charm to the audience, on and off screen. Something about how slimy he is just reeks 80s, and I’m living for it. Ben Richards is introduced using a bit of edited footage framing him as the Butcher, which also places Killian as an avenger and hero of the people, which...yeah, continuing to dig it. The audience jeers as the dancers parade around him in theater, eventually revealing...

I can’t decide if he looks terrible or fantastic in this outfit.

It’s revealed then that Killian’s double-crossed Ben (unsurprisingly), and his friends have been brought to compete in the game regardless. It’s also revealed that the “Runners” will be pursued by the “Stalkers.” And if they survive, they could win prizes like a fair trial, or maybe even a pardon if they get far enough! Whoof. This is a rough dystopia, and one with enough tinges of reality, that it’s palpable. BUT ANYWAY! It’s time to start running!

The guys are shot down a sick-looking bullet tube that’s almost certainly given someone an epileptic seizure in the past, and they exit into the mean streets of Los Angeles. Edith from the show audience picks the first Stalker to go out and hunt them down: Subzero.

Actually, this is Professor Subzero, played by Professor Toru Tanaka, a professional wrestler of the day. The group meet him in a hockey rink, where he’s covered in armor, carries a weaponized hockey stick, and uses explosive hockey pucks like a GODDAMN BATMAN VILLAIN.

I love this movie.

Well, the future Mister Freeze kills Professor SubZero, Because there can only be one ice-themed supervillain here. This is also the first time a Stalker has been killed in the show’s history. And wow, Ben is making himself look REAL bad. Both because of killing a Stalker, and by spitting out TWO shitty action movie lines in a row.

Ratings are up, Amber gets caught proving Ben’s innocence, and the next two Stalkers are chosen. One is Buzzsaw, armed with a chainsaw and super-strength.

The other is Dynamo, a GODDAMN OPERA SINGER WITH A METAL MOHAWK WEARING A SUIT THAT GRANTS HIM ELECTROKINESIS.

This film is our greatest achievement as a species. I am crying. I’m gonna need a minute.

Part II coming later today!

[writeyouin]

Connor X Reader - Do You Dream? Chapter 5

Chapter 5 – Defying Expectations 

A/N – Somewhat of a short chapter, but I’m finally pleased with where this story is going.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

It wasn’t long till Gavin came to pick you up from the park but every second spent in silence with Connor dragged painfully on, laden with anger and sadness. You squinted as Gavin’s rusted Buick headlights fell over you. Gavin got out, grinning smugly at the pair of you.

“Bye,” You said sullenly to Connor, not sure what else to say in lieu of the previous events.

“(Y/N), wait,” Connor said, reaching out for your wrist before he thought better of it and held himself back. “You don’t have to do this…”

You shook your head, frowning morosely, “I just- I can’t be around you right now.”

“What are you two ladies talking about?” Gavin asked cockily, swaggering over.

“Just give me a minute, Gavin.”

Connor stepped in front of you, whispering quickly, “You don’t have to stay with me. I’ll find a place temporarily and you can stay with Hank. Just please, don’t go with him.”

“Connor, don’t make this harder than it has to be. I’ve made up my mind. I’ll… I’ll see you at work. You coming, Gavin?” You asked, upon going over to the Buick.

“Sure, sure, just give me a sec.” Gavin approached Connor with a wicked grin, talking in a hushed tone so you wouldn’t hear, “Thanks for giving (Y/N) to me, plastic. This’ll just give me time to work on her. I hope you’ll think of us two rolling under the covers while you’re left alone, worthless and broken.”

Connor grabbed Gavin’s arm, speaking through gritted teeth, “You better take care of her. If anything happens- If anyone hurts so much as one hair on her head, I will personally see to it that you suffer.”

“If anyone hurts her? From what I’m seeing here, it’s you who hurt her.” Gavin yanked his arm back, “I’ll do a damn better job than you at taking care of her. Plastic prick.”

After that vicious exchange, Gavin left Connor standing alone in the park as he got back into his car and drove you towards his apartment.

Gavin thought he was being reasonable. He had let you spend the twenty-minute drive to his place in silence. Now, he wanted the answers he was due.

“Alright, what happened with the plastic?”

“Don’t call him that,” You reprimanded glumly, lacking any of your usual fire.

“Cut the shit (Y/N). Just tell me what happened, then you can go inside, get the VIP tour, and I’ll leave you alone for the night.”

“I don’t know, Gavin. Things just got complicated.”

“With the plastic or the drunk?”

“Please, don’t talk about my friends like that.”

Gavin rolled his eyes and got out of the car, surprising you slightly when he opened the door on your side. “Fine, whatever. You won’t answer my questions about them, at least tell me why you called me up to stay at my place.”

“Who else am I gonna stay with, Gavin? You’re working the case with me, you don’t live with anyone that could be endangered by the Flayer, and since I have to stay with a cop… Shit, who else am I gonna stay with? Captain Fowler?”

Gavin snickered, leading you into the apartment block and up the stairs, “It’d be one hell of a slumber party, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, Fowler could braid my hair while we talk shop.”

On the first floor, Gavin unlocked the second door, letting you in to what you expected would be a dingy apartment. Once again, you were surprised to find a neat living room with plush brown carpets, several family photos, and a generally warm vibe.

He walked you down the narrow hall, pointing out rooms, “Kitchen. Bathroom. My room. And that’s the magical mystery tour. That’ll be ten bucks.”

“Sorry, I’m short of change. I could give you a sucker punch instead.”

“Phuck off.”

You heard a light mewling behind you and turned to find a Sphynx cat sniffing at your heels. “Never figured you for a cat guy.”

“Her name’s Meatball.”

“Who turned her inside out?”

Gavin petted Meatball under the chin, “Don’t listen to the crazy bitch, Meatball. It’s a bold fashion statement.”

“Any more pets hanging around, or just the reject gremlin?”

“First off, she’s not a gremlin, she’s my sidekick. Second, Cagney and Lacey are around here somewhere, probably hiding from the bitch who keeps insulting my girl here.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” You nodded along, finding your first real smile of the night. It seemed that you had Gavin all wrong. Maybe at work he was an ass who used insults to look tough, but perhaps he wasn’t so bad after all.

“So… You don’t have any of your things with you.”

You tucked your hair behind you ear, avoiding Gavin’s gaze, “No. I left it all at Hank’s place.”

“I’ll get your shit together tomorrow.”

“Thanks.”

“In the meantime, I got an old hockey jersey you can wear. You know. If you want to. And I know it’s late so if you go into my room, you’ll find it, second drawer in the dresser. I’ll set up the sofa bed.”

You nodded and made your way into Gavin’s bedroom. Previously, you had imagined Gavin living in some kind of seedy Quentin Tarantino set. Instead, you found a fairly regular room. The most elaborate thing it held was a dart board which you were unimpressed to find pictures of androids on. Hastily, you tore the pictures off, throwing them into the bin in the corner. Just because he wasn’t as bad as you’d thought, you wouldn’t accept any form of xenophobia from Gavin. All the same, it was too late for an argument with your host, so you got changed into the way oversized jersey; it was far too big even for Gavin and you couldn’t help thinking that he probably saved it for those tiny women he fetishized.

Folding up your day clothes, you wandered into the living room, expecting some kind of sleazy comment about the jersey that only fell down to your knees. Instead, Gavin had set up the sofa-bed where he was perched gingerly on the edge. Upon your re-entry into the living room, he stood up giving you a cursory nod.

“Hey, so uh- I tend to wake up late. You can get whatever you want from the fridge. There’s a lock on the bathroom door. The front has the best damn security I can afford, and uh-” He put his hand on your shoulder, “We’ll catch this fucker, (Y/N). Then you can live your normal life and shit.”

Gavin left you after that and just before he entered his bedroom you saw two Bengal cats run from under the sofa bed after him.

“The elusive Cagney and Lacey,” You mumbled to yourself. Then, looking at the sphinx cat on top of your pillow, you added, “So, you’re staying with me, Meatball?”

Meatball purred enthusiastically as you stroked her head, only arguing slightly when you shifted her from the pillow to the blanket.

“Sorry girl, you gotta share.”

As you slipped into the bed and tried to get to sleep, you wondered why Gavin bothered to act so awfully in work. You wanted to find out who was the real him, and you hoped it was the version you had seen since he took you to his apartment. Maybe there was a chance the two of you could be friends after all.

Two weeks into living with Gavin and he had defied all of your expectations. Late into the evening as the two of you sat pouring over the most recent victim of the Fornication Flayer, you had to ask the question that had been on your mind since you first crashed on his sofa.

“Why aren’t you like this at work?”

“Hm? (Y/N), I’m always this good looking. You just haven’t noticed.”

“Come on Gavin. You’ve been nothing but nice to me for two weeks. No flirty comments, nothing mean to say about my friends, working from home to reduce any risk to me, making sure to get everything from Hank’s. I don’t get it. Why do you act so rough at work?”

Gavin grabbed his empty coffee mug for something to do that would allow him to avoid the question. “You want another coffee?”

At Gavin’s evasion, you decided not to press the matter. You guessed that he was just insecure in himself and used toxic masculine bullshit as a way to hide his true self. “Alright. I get it. You don’t want to go into it, but at least tell me what your damage is with Connor. He’s not a bad guy, y’know.”

“Just coffee for me then. Got it.”

“Come on, Gavin. Is it all androids, or just him?”

“Hey, what do you want from me? I just don’t like the prick. Besides, it’s fun to wind him up by toying with the things he likes.”

Although you didn’t like the insinuation that Gavin knew Connor had a crush on you before you did, you let it slide. At least he’d only called Connor a ‘prick’ instead of a ‘plastic’; that showed real improvement on Gavin’s behalf. With a bit more work and encouragement, you were sure you could change his opinions on androids, if not Connor himself.

“Ugh,” Gavin sneered. “We’re outta milk. You wanna come to the store with me?”

You appreciated it whenever Gavin asked you that. Since the store was only across the street, he allowed you the choice of staying in the apartment or going with him whenever he had to grab something. It was a privilege that Hank and Connor hadn’t allowed under their constant surveillance routine.

“You go. I could use a few minutes on my own.”

“Right, so you can throw that big surprise party to thank me for being awesome,” he snickered.

“Excuse you? This party is for Meatball, who is indeed not an inside out gremlin, but a big sweetheart who keeps your other two monsters in line.”

“Pfft. Whatever loser. Keep the door locked and don’t talk to strangers.”

“Okay, mom.”

“Don’t you speak to your mother in that tone, young lady. Go to your room.”

“I don’t have a room.”

“That’s right. And you won’t get one until you learn to appreciate your mother!”

With that playful exchange over, Gavin left, locking the door behind him. You stared at your datapad, flicking through case files and the analysis of the latest victim. It was horrifying to stare at yet another corpse of someone who looked just like you, but you did it anyway, trying to find anything from a stray hair or a boot print that might lead the DPD find the murderer.

There was a crash in Gavin’s bedroom and you groaned at the sound of hissing cats. “I swear, if that’s Cagney and Lacey again, you’re grounded for life cats.”

Sure enough, it was Cagney and Lacey, hissing at poor Meatball who had scrambled onto Gavin’s dresser, smashing the lamp in the process.

“Oh man… Why do you two bully this hairless freak so much? Don’t worry, Meatball. It was an accident. Just a case of lamp slaughter. We’ll get you the best damn jury Detroit has to offer.”

A knock at the door startled you and you stood in utter silence, feeling your heart pound against your chest.

“(Y/N), open he phucking door,” Gavin’s unmistakable voice called. “I dropped my keys down the damn drain.”

You shook your head, muttering under your breath, “How in the world is this idiot not dead?”

Upon opening the door, you only had a few seconds to take everything in. There was a man at least three feet taller than you wearing a tuxedo and a full venetian mask to hide his face. A voice modulator sat cosily on his throat and when he spoke again, he still sounded unpleasantly like Gavin.

“How very nice to meet you in person, detective.”

There was no time to run, fight, or even slam the door in his face as the Fornication Flayer pulled a syringe from behind his back and plunged it into your neck.

“There, there now. We’re going for a little ride. How does that sound?”

Unconscious in the Flayer’s arms, you couldn’t respond. Your only hope was that someone might spot you and come to your aid. If not, you would most certainly be the next victim that the DPD investigated.

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.･:*:･ﾟ ’ valentino  espsito , a  twenty  three  year   old , cismale ,  works  as  a  musician  who  came  from  manhattan  roots  .  while  they  were  attending  st  jude’s  they  were  known  as  the  broken  bird  because  they  could  be  very  reticent  .  those  closest  to  them  say  they’re  quite  stoic  though  .  to  get  a  better  understanding  of  who  they  are  ,  some  things  you  may  notice  about  them  are  ferocious  memories  dancing  across  his  flesh  before  sinking  their  teeth  into  him  ,  the  feeling  of  pain  reminding  him  of  his  own  presence  in  the  world  ,  night  sweats  that  form  a pool  of  anger  and  an  ocean  of  sadness .  you  may  have  mistaken  them  for  justin  bieber .

hi   hello  peaches  !!    this  ?  is  a  fucking  train  wreck  i  call  valentino  but  god  do  i  fucking  love  him  ?  he’s  the  combination  of  two  muses  of  mine  and  well  i’m  really  excited  to  explore  him  !  all  while  going  back  to  my  jb  roots  (  can  you  believe  there  was  a  time  where  the  only  male  fc  i  could  use  was  the  love  of  my  life  justin  bieber  ?   is  it  crack  ?  is  that  what  i  was  smoking  ?  ) if  you  would  like  to  learn  more  about  valentino  ,  please  just  keep  reading  !!  oh  please  bare  with  me  ,  me   and  introductions  are  not  friends .  

❝   ┄  𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓸𝓹𝓸𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓹𝓱𝔂  !

chapters  of  a  childhood  that  reflected  two  halves  of  then  and  now  .  like  a  book  that  cannot  be  ripped  from  your  hands  ,  the  esposito’s   story  captured  hues  of  millions  .  expect  ,  instead   of  unfolding  on  pages  of  a  book  ,  their  lives  were  recorded  by  the  hands  of  the  media  /  smiling  (  or  hands  up  covering  irritated  expressions  )  on  the  front  pages  of  magazine  ,  elaborating  on  success  and  fortune  with  oprah winfrey  ,  beautiful   photoshoots  that  are  plastered  with  such  brands  as  vogue  and  elle  magazine  .  adored  .  you  could  consider  them  that  .   they  were  affluence  dipped  in  sovereignty .

alessandro  esposito  ,  fifteen  years  old  when  he  came  to  america  from  naples italy  .  for  two  weeks  ,  him  and  his  family  of  seven  slept  on  the  cold  streets  of  new  york  .  his  father  ,  a  business  man  that  went  bankrupt  decided  to  allow  his  legs  to  run  and  run  until  they  landed  him  to  america  in  search  of  a  second  chance  .  that  year  ,  had  been  a  year  of  struggle .  but  it  taught  alessandro  all  he  needed  to  know  ,  showed  him  everything  he  refused  to  be  .  

alessandro  ,  he  put  himself  through  college  .  got  a  job  the  minute  his  feet  touched  new  york  at  an  italian  owned  pizza  place  , and  ran  himself  through  the  ringer  with  school  .  he  wanted  to  study  business  .  be  the  man  his  father  never  was  .  he  was  determined  .

it  was  his  junior  year  where  he  meet  sienna   remis  ,   the  twenty  something  year  old  break  out  model  ..  who  in  reality  should  of  never  given  alessandro  the  time  or  day  ..  but  she  gave  him  more  then  that  ,  four  years  later  ,  she  gave  him  her  word  that  she  was  in  it  with  him  forever  .  

she  did  not  want  children  .  she  was  a  model  .  used  her  body  for  her  work  ,  worked  for  her  body  .  struggled  with  herself  to  remain  the  model  of  every  company’s  dream  .  and  then  , she  accidentally  got  pregnant  .  and  despite  having  no  intentions  of  keeping  it  ,  one  look  at   her  husbands  face  and  she  made  a  decision  that  would  cost  her  .  she  had  it  .  

and  then  ,  she  had   another  one  .  and  then  another  one  ..  and  then  ,  another  one  .

the  esposito’s  were  a  traditional  italian  family  ,  spent  almost  every  moment  with  one  another  .  celebrated  holidays  at  nonna  &  nonno’s  .  did  family  vacations  with  their  four  aunts  /  uncles  and  their  seventeen  cousins  .  the  esposito’s  as  a  whole  ,   were  successful  .  alessandro’s  oldest  brother  being  a  plastic  surgeon  for  celebrities  such  as  kim  kardashian  and  kylie  jenner . his  sister  ,  she  dabbled  in  the  world  of  acting  before  settling  into  fashion  design  .  his  youngest  brother  worked  along  his  side  ,  building  an  empire  of  hotels  and  restaurants   .  and  ,  his  youngest  sister  whom  had  the  ability  to  capture  a  thousand  words  in  single  painting  moved  back  to  italy  to  live  a  normal  life  .  

zynaty ,  the  empire  that  holds  hundreds  of  hotels  and  restaurants  across  the  globe  .  the  business  that  took  alessandro  and  his  brother  everything  they  had  to  create .

valentino  navarone  clemente  esposito  was  the  second  child  to  alessandro   and  sienna  .   from  the  moment   he  open  warm  colored  hues  ,  took  his  first  breaths  ,  privilege  was  granted  to  him  .   a  child  in  the  spotlight  ,  it  was  what  he  became  .  one  of  the    esposito’s  destined  to  do  great  things  .  to  be  somebody  .  the  media  ate  him  up .  everything  he  did  ,  everything  his  siblings  did  ,  they  wanted  to  be  apart  of  it  ,  to  exploit  ,  to  adore  ,  to  wait  and  watch  how  they  would  unfold  .

the  first  eleven  years  of  valentino’s  childhood  consisted  of  tender  forehead  kisses  and  the  feeling  of  warm  comfort  wrapping  around  him  like  a  blanket  .  his  days  consisting  of  laughter  that  fell  from  his  siblings  lips  ,  sports  that  shook  all  of  his  energy  right  out  of  him  .  homemade  dinners  ,  forced  movie  nights  (  though  deep  down  he  always  enjoyed  snuggling  up  to  his  mother  ) ,  tutors  ,  piano  lessons  ,  and  guitar  lessons  .  by  the  time  he  was  eight  ,  he  was  fluent  in  italian  .  played  on  three  different  hockey  teams  .  bickered  with  his  oldest  brother  like  it  was  his  job  (  but  more  so  because  he  wanted  to  do  everything  he  did  and  did  not  like  being  told  no  .  )  spent  hours  in  his  fathers  office  gazing  out  the  windows  ,  eating  greasy  burgers  with  his  father  in  exchange  that  neither  of  them  would  snitch  to  the  others  .  summers  with  his   grandparents  in  italy  .  at  the  age  of  ten  he  was  staring  in  commercials  such  as  toy’s  r  us  and  even  chef  boyardee .  

the  esposito’s  were  being  offered  reality  tv  show’s  ,  the  spot  of  ambassador’s  for  ridiculously   prosperous  brands  .  everything  they  did  ,  it  was  an  article  .   sienna  takes  her  children  out  to  the  park  ,  alessandro  walks  the  family  dog  ,  valentino  scored  final  goal  .  and  then  ,  it  happened  .  headlines  of  ,  valentino  esposito  admitted  to  hospital  due  to  injuries  from  his  mother  .

sienna  ,  she  was  tender  .  angelic.  had  a   smile  that  melted  hearts  .  her  laughter  felt  like  music  to  your  ears  ..  everyone  described  her  as  gentle  ,  a  beautiful  soul .  but  after  her  last  child  ,  she fell  into  such  dark  places  .  so  dark  that  drinking  her  way  out  of  them  seemed  to  be  the  only  way  to  survive  .  to  get  through  it  … but  the  drinking  always  made  her  violent  .  usually  ,  it  was  never  anything  more  then  her  screaming  horrid  words  to  her  children .  usually  she  saved  physical  contact  for  alessandro  .  the  next  morning  ,  she’d  beg  for  forgiveness  .  buy  the   gifts  and  allow  them  to  stay  home  from  school  .  she’d  swear  she’d  never  do  it  again  ,  and  for  weeks  she  wouldnt  .  and  then  ,  like  a  switch   she  would  .

nine  pm  ,  alessandro  headed  to  las  vegas  for  a  business  trip  (  one  that  included  his  mistress  ) ,  his  mom  she  found  the  liquor  cabinet  .   one  drink  turned  to three and  three  turned  to  the  whole  bottle  vanishing  . valentino  remembers  , her  screams  and  his  little  brother  crying  .  he  was  always  protective  ,  and  when  his  oldest  brother  was  not  around  he  always  felt  like  it  was  even  more  of  his  duty  to  watch  out  for  his .  so  that’s  what  he  did  .  his  feet  leading him  down  to  the  kitchen  ..  and  when  his  hues  reached  hers  ,  the  once  angelic  mother  he  knew  ,  he  loved  disappeared  .  she  was  a  monster  in  human  form   .   and  her  hands  had  reached  for  his  brother  and  non  stop  shook  him  as  she  repeated  ,  screamed  how  much  she  never  wanted  them  .  that  she  never  wanted  them  .

valentino  remembers  this  much  ,  fear .  confusion .  the  need  to  free  his  little  brother  .  and  then  he  remembers  covering  his  face  ,  pleading  for  her  to  stop  ,  and  pain .

it  was  his  brother  who  called  the  cops  ,  and  when  he  got  to  the  hospital  he  had  broken  ribs  ,  bruises  that  covered  his  faces  like  it  skin  tone  was  purple  ,  and   a  concussion .

the  months  after  that  ,  consisted  of  legal  actions  .  divorces  .  therapy  .  and  attempting  to  heal  .  something  that  was  deemed  impossible  with  the  media  constantly  throwing  it  back  into  their  faces . pleading  for  their  statements  ,  wanting  to  dig  deeper  .  paparazzi  harassing  not  only  his  family  ,  but  friends  of  his  family  ,  co  workers  ,  teachers  ,  nannies  .  it  got  so  bad  ,  alessandro  took  him  and  his  children  back  to  italy  for  an  entire  year  .  wanting  to  give  them  enough  time  to  adjust  ,  to  heal  ,  all  while  trying  to  heal  on  his  own  .  

❝   ┄  𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓽𝔂 𝓯𝓽. 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼  !

hard  headed  and  words  like  knives  ,  a  burning  fire  lives  within  the  boy  .  one  that  holds  onto  pain  and  anger  ,  their  claws  slashing  violently  into  his  heart  .  after  the  accident  ,  he  was  told  he  had  sad  eyes  .  and  for  a  while  ,  it  was  because  it  was  true  .  sadness  had  intertwined  themselves  within  him  ,  and  when  he  finally  got  tired  of  the  hole  in  his  heart  that  dropped  to  their  needs  pleading  with  anyone  to  help  it  ,  he  pushed  the  sadness   out  and  let  anger  stand  in  it’s  place  .

there’s  sanity  in  the  constancy  his  fist  always  presented  him  ,  in  italy  he  found  himself  in  fights  after  fights  .  twelves  year  old  ,  fighting  his  demons  and  fighting  anyone  who  wronged  him  even  in  the  smallest  of  senses  .  

he’s  like  picking  up  dice  and  praying  you  land  on  a  good  number  ,  you  never  know  what  you’ll  get  ..  will  you  see  the  specks  of  playfulness  and  charm  ?  his  anger  that burns  brighter  then  any  fire ?  the  silent  sadness ?

his  ambition  is  gold  .  he  wants  to  be  something  in  this  world  .  and  his  passion  and  intelligent  helps  keep  him  on  this  path .

being  an  athlete  has  always  come  natural  to  him  ,  he  was  that  kid  who  was  good  at  literally  everything  he  did  ..  and  while  he  doesnt  play  hockey  anymore  ,  or  as  much  as  he  use  to  ,  he  still  gets  himself  up  at  five  am  to  run  .

his  family  is  a  priority  .  the  only  people  who  get  all  of  him  ,  his  sadness  ,  his  softness  ,  his  broken  pieces  ,  his  protectiveness  ,  his  loyalty  ,  his  undying  love .

despite  what  you  may  think  ,  he  has  a  big  heart  .  it  sneaks  to  the  surface  with  small  acts  of  kindness  ..  the  way  his  hand  will  reach  out  to  you  with  intentions  of  affection  before  retreating  .  it’s  in  his  words  of  , ‘ did  you  eat  ? ‘  and  ,  ‘ let  me  walk  ya  home ‘

he  is  a  lover  ,  no  matter  how  hard  he  tries  to  convince  you  his  heart  is  cold  that  will  never  be  the  case  .  ever  .

he’s  a  curious  person ,  and  usually  ends  up  getting  suck  into  people  and  things  despite  his  promises  that  he  wont  .

he  hates  commitment  and  attachment  .. but  can  you  blame  him.

has  this  fear  that  everyone  he  loves  will  somehow  someway  hurt  him .

has  a  bad  habit  of  hurting  those  who  hurt  him .

he’s  unpredictable  ,  stubborn   ,   a  little  sarcastic .

he  can  be  cruel  ,  unemotionally  unavailable  .  it’s  always  easier  to  feel  nothing  then  feel .  (  has  a  constant  fight  with  himself  on  whether  he  should  let  you  in  ,  but  he  will  if  you  are  determined  enough  ..  as  much  as  he  can  )

he’s  super  intelligent  ,  quick  with  numbers  .  his  dad  use  to  tell  him  he   was  going  to  be  a  king ,  at  least  in  the  business  industry  ..  

loves  children  ..  definitely  cannot  wait  to  have  children  of  his  own  some day .

he  still  spends  a  lot  of  his  time  in  italy  ,  usually  with  his  grandparents  or  his  aunt .  he  likes  it  there  ,  likes  being  able  to  breathe  ,  to  walk  down  the  street  without  harassment  .

he  wanted  to  go  into  his  dad’s  business  ,  his  dad  wanted  him  to  come  into  the  business .  but  ,  he  instead  found  his  passion  in  music ?  it  was  not  surprising ,  the  baby  has  always  been talented  ..  it  just  took  him  a  little  longer  to  realize  that  it  was  what  he  wanted  to  do .

has  a  journal  he  carries  with  him  almost  every  where  ,  he  remembers  in  the  seventh  grade  someone  teased  him  about  it  being  a  diary  .  he  also   got  suspended  that  day  . it’s  his  song  book  ,  the  only  way  to  really  know  him .

he  learned  fast  that   ,  he  never  wanted  to  inflict  harm  onto  anyone  else  like  his  mom  did  ..  and  at  twenty  four  is  not  a  violent  guy  .  he  acts  out  of  self  defense  but  will  never  put  his  hands  on  you  first  .

on  that  note  ,  do  not  put  your  hands  on  him  .  he  does  not  like  to  be  handled  ,  slapped  , shoved  .  he  does  not  like  being  grabbed  ,  dont  even  poke  him  aggressively  .  

he  flinches  ,  if  you  move  too  fast  near  him  . if  you  move  your  hands  when  yelling  at  him .

he  had  night  terrors  for  years  .  therapy  helped  him  with  it  ..  but  sometimes  they  make  a  recurrence  .  more  so  if  he’s  really  stressed  or  anxious .

is  such  a  boy  when it  comes  to  cars  .  love  speeding  ,  showing  off  ,  making  you  hold  on  for  your  dear  life .

he  does  not  like  drunk  people  ,  is  not  the  guy  that  will  normally  take  care  of  you  unless  you’re  his  siblings  ,  or  a  very  close  friends  .  does  not  really  drink  himself  .  has   a  drink  here  and  there  ,  but  has  never  gotten  drunk  … he  could  truly  go  the  rest  of   his  life  without  ever  drinking  again .

he  is  a  smoker  ,  smokes  a  blunt  every  night  before  bed  .

he   is  signed  with  a  record  label  ,  and  has  released  two  albums  !  also  he  went  on  two  tours !  music  is  something  he  truly  enjoys  .  it  makes  him  feel  all  light  and  happy ?  like  he’s  his  old  self  again .  voice  wise  ,  think  justin  bieber   but  singing  post  malone  songs  ..

he’s  doing  a  little  soul  searching  ,  soaking  up  life  ..   as  much  as  he  can  .  trying  to  remind  himself  of  all  the  reasons  it  feels  soo  good  to  be  here  ,  right  now  ,  living  and  breathing.

❝   ┄  𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼  !

asdfg okay  ,  i  wanted  to  write  out  super  long  and  detailed  connections  but  im  already  annoyed  with  myself  and  cannot  even  imagine  how  yous  will  feel  having  to  read  this  mess !  so  i  want  a  bromance  ,  something  cute  and  simple  .  they’re  there  for  him  non  stop  ,  he  considers  them  family  ,  would  do  anything  for  them  ,  they  bring  out  old  valentino  who  just  wants  to  have  fun  and  act  like  a  fool !  a  childhood  friend  ,  someone  who  knows  everything  about  the  accident  he  doesn’t  speak  to  anymore  to  avoid  the  memories .  some  party  friends  and  bad  influences  .  hookups  !!!  a  sibling  like  friendship  ,  someone  who  reminds  him  of  his  younger  brother  or  sister  .  an  messy  ex  of  some  sort  .  one  sided  relationships !!  one  sided  friendships  !!  that  one  person  who’s  soooo  determined  to  break  down  his  walls .

[kpopchangedme]

I was tagged by @not-all-that-chic & @def-initely-soul <3 <3

☆ Rules ☆

-   Answer these questions about yourself and tag people!

☆ About You ☆

Hair Color? Dark Bown.

Is your hair long or short? Boyish short. As in nonexistent As in I’m still freaking out over my last haircut

Eye Color? Dark Green.

Blood Type? O+. (are you coming for my organs? Jokes on you, I already sold a kidney to afford the Eyes on You Tour)

Nickname(s)? Lyly, Lys, that Jaebum thirsty b*tch

Relationship Status? Single.

Pronouns? She/Her.

Tattoos? Two. A Fleur de Lys to represent my French heritage, behind my right ear. A Harry Potter one on my right foot, just above my toes.

Piercings? 5. Three on my left lobe. One on my right lobe. And my belly button, cuz it’s Britney B*tch. 

Do you want (more) piercings or tattoos? Probably. lol.

Right or Left handed? Right.

Zodiac? LEO..

☆ RIGHT NOW, WHAT ARE YOU… ☆

Eating? Tom Yum chicken soup.

Drinking? Red Bull. (it’s on the side, waiting for after I finish my meal. I’m not that much of a weirdo.)

Listening to? Candy Cane - Taeyeon. (My K-Christmas Spotify playlist)

About to watch? Listen to a Reply All podcast. (does it count?)

Waiting for? Trivia night at our usual pub, the theme is Disney this week.

☆ THE LAST… ☆

Phone Call? My brother. He was picking me up to go eat dumplings.

Text Message? A guy name Erik. I texted him: “I’m looking for more. I’m not only a hook up.” (I promised there was a context lol). He replied 24 HOURS LATER: “Alright, that’s understandable.”

Song you listened to? Confession Song - GOT7 

Last time you cried? I listened to a Reply All (I’m obsessed) investigation about racist bullying in private college and cried. Racism. Bullying. what a horrible and sad world we live in where people of colour can’t feel safe and accepted. ever. 😞

☆ HAVE YOU EVER… ☆

Dated someone twice? No. I barely dated once lol.

Kissed someone and regretted it? Oh yeah.

Kissed a stranger? Yep. Plz refer to the previous question 🤣

Been cheated on? No.

Had sex on a first date? Yeah... 

Lost someone special? Not really. (apart from death, idk if that counts)

Been depressed? First year of Uni.

Drank hard liquor? Oh yeah. I tried Absinthe yesterday actually. Regretted my life decisions in under 5 minutes.

Gotten drunk and thrown up? Yes. Tequila

Talked to a person named Tom? ... sure...

Had surgery? Yes, a plastic one at that. Ask away. 

Lost your glasses? Like... at least once a month? lol

Turned someone down? Yes. I’m getting real good at it.

Broken someone’s heart? Yes. Unfortunately.

Had your heart broken? No. I’m a freaking stone wall that never lets anyone in. lol.

Been arrested? Not yet. 😇 The cops still haven’t found the bodies.

Cried when someone died? Yes. 

Fallen for a friend? No. Never been in love.

☆ IN THE LAST YEAR, HAVE YOU… ☆

Made new friends? Yes. Mostly online.

Fallen out of love? No.

Laughed until you cried? Everytime I hang out with my besties, so at least twice a week lol.

Found out someone was talking about you? No.

Met someone who changed you? No.

Found out who your friends are? No... I already know them by heart after all those years. They never disappoint 😍

Kissed someone on your Facebook friends list? That Erik is my fb friend, so yeah.

☆ FAVOURITE… ☆

Drink? Red Bull.

Color(s)? Green, Red, AHGASE GREEN.

TV Show(s)? Friends.

Sport(s)? Hockey. Karaté.

Movie(s)? The Exorcist (1973) or Rosemary’s Baby (1968)

Actor(s)? Michael B. Jordan. Lee Jehoon.

☆ DO YOU BELIEVE IN… ☆

Miracles? Nope.

Love at first sight? Ugh... not really. But my parents got infatuated at first sight and still are together after waya over 30 years.

Santa Claus? No. Am I 8?

Kissing on a first date? Depends on the person, you know when the mood is right.

Angels? No.

Yourself? YEAH

☆ WHICH IS BETTER? ☆

Hugs or Kisses? Kisses.

Lips or Eyes? Eyes smile

Shorter or Taller? Taller...

Older or Younger? similar age (or younger? Chan... and Jaebum. oh my goodness, I’m in trouble!)

Nice arms or nice stomach? Arms. BACK. SHOULDERS

Hookup or relationship? Relationship. LOL, reffer to previous question definitely relationship.

Troublemaker or hesitant? Hesitant. (for him? Hesitant. I cause enough trouble for two. you’re welcome.)

☆ RANDOM ☆

What’s your best friend’s name? my squad is pretty tight from high school. But Sab (@hobi-my-hubby), Reb, Étienne & Flo (@florenceisnottrash), our newest addition. 

What is something you can’t wait for? rn Christmas.

What time did you wake up today? 8:00am.

Do you want to change your name? No. I like Lysandre a lot.

What did you do for your last birthday? 25 is a big number. So a big family party with around 40 people in a outfitter near Montreal. We drank from dusk to dusk lol and enjoyed a lot of nautical sports.

What were you doing at midnight last night? not gonna lie. reading fics.

What is something that gets on your nerves? RUDENESS.

Do you have a crush on someone? No.

What’s your most visited website? Tumblr.

Where do you want to go on vacation? Asia in general. New York, Boston, since those a road trip achievable.

What kind of trainers do you like/wear? Champion. Reebok.

How many Facebook friends do you know IRL? about 96%

Do you have pets? GLAD YOU ASK. At the flat, a kiity named Xena the Warrior Princess. At my parents, two Cornish Rex cats: Kaly & Monroe.

Do you want to get married? I’d like it, mostly for the lovely party and occasion to all celebrate love with my friends and fam, but it’s really not important for me.

What career do you want to have? I mean... I’m adulting rn

What is something you want? Win the trivia tonight (free beer), quality time with my friends & for my family to be healthy.

What do you like about yourself? I like myself a lot tbh, haha. I have flaws, but I work on them. I’m etremely loyal and resilient, two qualities that are really important to me, so there’s that.

Tagging: @1lovemarklee, @yehet-me-up, @hobi-my-hubby & @jeonocho

[kiss-my-freckle]

Dialogues

1x2 -

Red: Watch yourself with her, Donald. She hates men, and cops most of all.

1x3 -

Red: I prefer to play with myself in private.

Liz: He’s a myth. Red: That’s what they said about Deep Throat … and the G-Spot.

1x5 -

Red: She owns that nightclub. Last time I was there, we had a great deal of fun, until she tried to strangle me with her stocking.

Red: Or just bend over any available piece of furniture and let her slap you on the ass. She loves that.

Red: He knows you better than I do, and I know where that lovely little freckle is.

1x6 -

Red: Because Yuri talks faster than a cheerleader after a nooner under the grandstands. Probably not a metaphor you understand.

1x8 -

Red: Oh, my God. I’ve never been more scared of a woman in my life. She was thrilling in bed. What a pair of legs. I think she played field hockey in college.  

1x14 -

Red: I had a little talk with Rasil. We had a few laughs, compared notes about you. He told me all about that delightful thing you do with a trouser belt, which was a bit hurtful, since I was pretty sure it was our thing.

1x18 -

Vlad: You slept with my wife. Red: How is Fadila? Vlad, it was a mistake. I can easily blame it on the hashish and the grappa, but the truth is - may I speak freely? You’re better off without her. She’s fickle.

1x19 -

Red: Calculus. I can’t even think about derivatives without thinking of that tutor in manor hall. Cindy something-or-other. Never wore a brassiere. Always a bounce in her step.

1x20 -

Red: Ah. Smells like decadence and vice.

2x1 -

Red: They know your habits, the banks you use, the pills you pop, the men or women you sleep with.

Red: Lord Baltimore. Aren’t you a surprisingly saucy minx.

Samar: Aren’t we confident today? Red: I’m confident every day. Samar: And I thought we had nothing in common.

2x7 -

Red: Keep your plum covered. We’re not alone.

2x10 -

Red: Luther, I never thought I’d enjoy having anything in my mouth as much as Petty Officer Virginia Sherman, but this - My God! It tastes so good! I hesitate to swallow, and I certainly don’t want to spit it out.

2x2 -

Red: Mmm! Tastes just like Patty Sutton.

2x3 -

Red: Titillating. But what Laskin and Russo do with or to one another in their spare time is none of my concern. Red: A threesome? Interesting. Based on his sartorial splendor, I gather this is Mr. Vargas. Does that even look like real hair?

Red: You poor thing. Honestly, I don’t know how you do it. It boggles the imagination. B.B., you don’t look well. Are you alright? Let me guess: irregular heartbeat, shortness of breath, perhaps a little tingling in your nether regions? Those drinks you’ve been enjoying on the house? They weren’t from the house. They were from me. I hope you don’t mind. I took the liberty of adding a special surprise ingredient, something to treat any localized dysfunction you may be suffering. Has the little man been falling down on the job? It’s a miracle drug, not so much for a glutton with a bum heart, however. But look on the bright side, you’ll die with a marvelous erection.

2x11 -

Red: The other one, the watercolorist, she - legs like a shot-putter. She gets me in this headlock. I black out. Next thing I know, I wake up - no sheets, vaseline everywhere. The lipstick on the mirror overhead reads, “Same time next year?” I haven’t missed an art expo in Basel since.

Red: Ah. A Russian milonga. Watch closely, Lizzy. Everything you need to know about negotiation is there in the tango milonga. At the outset, they are opponents. Each has something the other wants. They size one another up, assessing risk, setting boundaries, challenging each other to breach them. A sensuous battle - violence and sex balanced on the blade of a knife. Nothing given that is not earned - nothing taken that is not given. This is the pure essence of negotiation. Not a poker game, but a milonga. A tango. A seduction.

Red: And I assure you my bed accommodates a broad spectrum of behavior.

2x12 -

Red: Samar, my dear, bump in the road I can help smooth over, or have the clouds finally parted and this is a social call?

2x14 -

Red: Careful there, boys. You don’t want to bruise the merchandise.

Red: Really, I’m all for being thorough, but at this point, you’re just taking the nickel tour.

Red: Oh, the Dinky. No matter the time of day, that damn train is always full of hungover frat boys and co-eds in the throes of morning-after regret.

Red: Good heavens, Earl. You’ve never had any feeling in your heart, but now it looks like there isn’t much going on below the waist. Earl: I do all right. The wheelchair is just a little memento of our time together in Bolivia. Red: No hard feelings, I trust.

2x18 -

Red: Because, Mr. Jasper, you strike me as a man who would prefer to pitch rather than catch.

2x20 -

Red: Don’t look so glum, Kenneth. You just spent 10 minutes being ridden hard by Agent Navabi. I’d die for five.

2x21 -

Red: She makes her real money consulting. Costs a fortune. She did, however, let me name a lipstick color - “Fire In The Hole.”

Kimberly: I can only tell you what they’re doing. I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you who they’re doing it to.

3x7 -

Hasaan: What do you want? Red: Well, another spin of the bottle in Melanie Reichman’s basement, but, I’ll settle for you.

3x8 -

Red: When’s the last time you got any of that, Pablo? Or have you? Pablo: We share everything.

Red: No wonder Cash doesn’t trust you with anything more important than babysitting. Pablo: That’s big talk coming from a guy who’s -

3x9 -

Red: I prefer that slight curve at the small of the back, the swell of a breast, the soft nape of the neck to quicken my heartbeat.

3x21 -

Cynthia: I read his e-mails. Ever since I found him with the nanny, I look at everything. Samuel: We don’t even have a nanny! It was a movie. Red: A nanny movie? Cynthia: Not just nannies. Schoolteachers, nurses, and a ridiculous threesome with two completely unbelievable policewomen. Samuel: Cynthia, they’re just movies. I have never cheated on you. And besides, I don’t think he wants to hear about it. Red: Yes, I want to hear about it. All about it. Unfortunately, I do need to hear about your contract with Halcyon. So business first, and then, Cynthia, I’ll be all ears.

Red: I had an enlightening meeting with Samuel Rand today. More to the point, with his wife, Cynthia.

Scottie: Howard didn’t take that job. We haven’t had sex in four years. We’re rarely in the same country, let alone the same bed. Red: What bed have you been occupying? Scottie: I’ve been assuming a larger role in a management position lately. Red: You don’t say.

Red: You have it all wrong, dear. I didn’t come to kill you. I came here because you and I are about to climb into bed together, just for a quickie.

3x23 -

Red: Aram… set him up with someone, for God’s sake. He’s like a kid with his first erection on the school bus.

4x7 -

Red: My sympathies to your significant other. And if your flag is flying at half mast, rest assured, I find in the privacy of one’s boudoir, pleasing others is the key to pleasing oneself.

4x14 -

Red: Oh, my goodness. This is tedious. I’d give almost anything to have a scratch. But seeing as how, given your profession, David, you might be more inclined to squeeze them rather than scratch them, I won’t impose. I’ll just wait for the next break.

David: Forget having your testicles scratched. You’ve been castrated.

4x20 -

Red: Baldur, you and I are deal-makers. We buy low and sell high. Getting that cruise line on the cheap was better than sex with your mistress. Either of them. I’m a little down on my luck. A penny stock. Invest in me now and when I rise, you’ll be able to afford three mistresses.

4x22 -

Red: I do wonder what else Donald’s men will find in your nightstand. Are you a vibrator kind of gal, Laurel? We’ll see.

5x1 -

Car guy: How’d she do? Red: Like Bergita Olofson in her parents’ rumpus room on a Saturday night.

5x2 -

Cooper: No, he’s playing grab-ass by the pool between naps and happy hour.

5x10 -

Isaacson: Bite me. Red: Hmm. A woman after my own heart.

5x12 -

Red: Joro spiders. In Japanese folklore, the joro is said to be able to change its appearance to that of a beautiful woman who seduces men, binding them in her web before devouring them. Hence its name “joro-gumo,” or “whore spider.”

5x13 -

Red: Imagine the confidence a man has to have in his own genitals to take on a nickname like “Big Willie.”

5x15 -

Red: Yes. Very impressive. What a gymnasium - a real shrine to athleticism. I can just feel the testosterone.

Fagen: You promised me a sure thing, gives me Viagra, and all I have to show for it is a four-hour erection.

[deleted scene]

Smokey: You’re a sucker, Red.  Everyone thinks you’re soooo tough with the hat and the shades and the people you kill but I know better.  Circus folk know a sucker when we see one.  You’re a sucker.  You’re a sucker for the pets, you’re a sucker for Heddie. And God knows why, you’re even a sucker for me. Red: I suppose I am.   Smokey: Well, that’s good for me. I’ll follow you anywhere. Red: Well, let's start in the back. I believe we have some cash to count.

5x19 -

Red: This apartment. Right here. Oh. My God. To have been the proverbial fly on Clyde Tolson’s duvet. Liz: Clyde Tolson lived here? J. Edgar Hoover’s lover? Red: This was their secret hideaway. Imagine the conversations. Cooing over JFK’s lovers. Slandering Dr. King. What peignoir to wear to bed. When I saw the apartment was for sale, I couldn’t resist. Liz: You own the apartment where the homophobic head of the FBI carried on his affair with his boyfriend? Red: Allegedly. I wouldn’t admit this in mixed company, but J. Edgar and I have a surprising amount in common. For instance, we both always get our man.

5x21 -

Red: I’ve heard steroids make your penis shrink. Have you found that to be the case?

Liz: Gonzalez called you. Red: His guard, actually. We developed something of a bond.

6x2 -

Red: Through five marriages, numerous lovers, allegedly both male and female.

Red: Cary Grant once said after a particularly evocative LSD trip, “I imagined myself as a giant penis launching off from Earth - “like a spaceship.”

6x4 -

Red: Baldomero, what do you say we call this whole thing off? What happened in Iztapalapa was a terrible mistake. I regret it dearly, and I had no idea she was your mother. Baldomero: You were in my bed. There was a picture of me on the nightstand. Red: Okay, in our defense, it was incredibly dark, and we’d been drinking heavily. Honestly, I regret the entire weekend. Of course, don’t tell your mother that.

[gutterdreams]

First off, love the blog and your writing! Second off; would you please do one for Billy with prompt #126. What are you not telling me?

Thanks for the kindness!

“What are you not telling me?”

Billy was grateful to you for a hundred things, but he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that his life would not function without your penchant for organization. He used to have individual socks all over the floor, spare change hidden in every crevice of his bachelor space, and (according to him) ‘no time to clean’. He had been reluctant to let you move in and claim ownership over his six hundred square feet of space, but it had been a God send. He had a fridge calender that was color coated, he had a coffee machine and a coin tray, and he had someone who liked vacuum, or sometimes, motivated him to do it himself. The naked laundry folding parties on Sunday afternoons had been one of his favorite new traditions. Watching highlights from the hockey game that he had already watched the night before with his friends at the pub, Billy laid zoned out on the bed in the living room while you were sitting like a little toadstool at the corner by his feet, going over your dayplanner. You were going to write your real estate exam at the end of the month, so you wanted to know what to expect from the rest of November. “We have your work Christmas party on Friday.” You said above the commercial that was on, tapping the side of Billy’s foot with your pen. “I know.” He hadn’t mentioned it lately, but that wasn’t out of character for Billy. He didn’t get excited like you did over a night out especially if that night out was just in a banquet hall with all the 500 people who worked at the same trucking company as he did. “I have a study date with Rachel, but I’ll cut it early and we can leave around six.” With your attention on the black leather book open between your knees, you mentioned and started scribbling the plan in. “Uh, don’t worry about it. Do your study thing.” Billy sat up and interjected, turning down the television volume as he did. “You don’t want me to come?” Head up, you shook away some hairs and asked. “No, it’s fine. I just…we don’t have to go.” “I know we don’t have to, but we thought it sounded kind of fun.” You shrugged. A lot of the guys at work were older than Billy and you were encouraging of him spending time with the kinder ones, the ones who didn’t drink their paychecks at the end of every week. “It could be fun to just hang out here too.” When you met Billy last year, he was the life of the party and it seemed like that was how all of his friends identified him. Lately though, he had become a homebody. A creature of habit. You credited the change to the structure of his new job for Greyson Transport. “We don’t have an open bar.” Pushing your lips together like a duck’s bill, you pointed out. Billy nodded in agreement. “Who cares? Let’s just stay in.” He shrugged anyway. It wasn’t unusual for Billy to not want to tuck in a dress shirt and go to a sit down dinner, but it was very strange for him to turn down an open bar. As he laid back down, you turned your head over your shoulder and watched him return his gaze to the TV. “What are you not telling me?” Through an amused smile, you asked.“What?” Eyes squinted inward, he asked back. “You aren’t saying something on purpose. I can tell. We share a very tiny apartment, I know you very well.” Billy sighed loudly, blowing hair from his face due to force, and tried to buy himself some time to concoct an answer better than the truth. It took too long though and your batted lashes were waiting. “Remember when we first started hanging out and I said I couldn’t be with you until I tied up some loose ends…” Billy drummed up and dusted off an old story that he hated. It made him look good and he wished that your relationship had started off without any drama.“Yeah, you had to tell a bunch of girls you were routinely sleeping with that it was over.” Nodding along, you tried to quicken the pace of the story. It had been a long time ago and it stopped stinging around the time you moved in with him. “And that one girl showed up at your work and screamed and all that…” It was the Reader’s Digest version of what happened.“Kiki What’s-Her-Tits, yeah.” You knew what her last name was. The cops had informed you, but you were purposefully leaving it out due to pettiness.“Um….” Billy scratched at his head and held his mouth open, trying to put off the rest of his explination. “Yeah, uh, I think I’ve mentioned that she started working for Greyson last year, right?” He knew he hadn’t. Your eyes were drained of their usual bright color as you stated at Billy with a look that could inspire murder in the most innocent of minds. “Well, she did. She works in administration.”“You work with her?” Just like that, the night had gone from zero to one hundred. You shut your book and bounced off the bed to stand in front of the television. Billy rolled his eyes and shut off the TV, pointing the remote between your breast and armpit. “How did you not mention that some crazy twat who you used to sleep with and who threw a broom at me and called me a 'homewrecking bitch’ works with you?! Billy?!” Up and down, you bounced on your toes in front of him. He knew he shouldn’t have liked the way you looked, so Billy focused on concealing his smile. “Because I knew you would have this reaction!” He shot out an arm and directed it at you. The argument stopped and Billy figured you were calming yourself down as you were wont do. He had proven himself to be useless when it came to offering comfort. You weren’t taking deep breaths though. You were not trying to find composure. You were hatching a plan. “We are going to your Christmas Party. I am going to look so damn good and I'm going to throw a broom at her!” You stomped one foot and rushed away to the kitchen to help yourself to some of Billy’s vodka, leaving him to lay on the bed and wishing he could go back five minutes and change this moment.

[frauleinsmaria]

The Holiday Season(s)

Summary: Emma Swan is not fond of holidays. But maybe a routine encounter with a local bartender could change that. CS AU

Written for @jones-alice for this year’s Captain Swan Secret Santa. I had so much fun being your CSSS and hope you enjoy this story! Big thanks to @forestiyari for reading this over <3

Also on AO3 and FF.Net

Emma Swan was not fond of holidays.

To be fair, it’s not that she didn’t want people to celebrate whatever was important to them or spend time with their friends and family. But when you’ve gone nearly twenty-eight years without much of either, seeing other people experience it usually stung.

This particular night was Valentine’s Day, arguably the worst of the entire year. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she saw every storefront in Boston covered with giant pink and red hearts and flowers, as people lined up to buy gifts for their significant others (who they likely ignored during the other three hundred and sixty-four days.)

She actually had plans this year- if you can even call a fake date with her latest skip before she dragged him to the police station “plans.” This one had put up a fight, and came close to breaking her nose. (His punch had hit her cheek instead, where she was now sporting a vibrant, purple bruise.) But she’d still been successful; the jerk was behind bars before eight o’clock, and she had a nice salary in her purse to prove it.

To be fair, she could have spent her Valentine’s Day in better company, and had actually planned to take the night off. But Mary Margaret, bless her, had jumped at the chance to set her up on a date as soon as she heard Emma would be free. She’d then arranged to take tonight’s job and claimed she had to fill in for someone else. Her friend meant well, but she’d been on one too many awful blind dates to be up for another.

Emma had left the police station, one hand on her bruised cheek as she walked through downtown Boston and observed its lovesick residents. Every bar, restaurant, ice cream parlor, and even hair salon was offering some kind of holiday-themed deal: Come in for a haircut and get a second half-off for your Valentine! Anyone with common sense would have to find it cringe-worthy.

It felt like a breath of fresh air when she stumbled upon a bar where the only hint that it was Valentine’s Day came from the couple making out in a secluded corner booth. Emma ignored them as she walked in and took a seat at the bar. The place was mostly empty to her relief, aside from the couple engaging in tonsil-hockey, a few guys playing pool on the other side of the room, and the bartender, who’d come out from the back when she’d taken her seat.

She didn’t look up at him until he approached her. “What’ll it be, love?”

It was far from the first time she’d heard an English accent in Boston, but it still managed to catch her off guard. His looks were only an added bonus: dark hair, blue eyes, a smile she could have easily fallen for if she wasn’t so careful. “Whatever you’ve got,” she muttered.

“One of those nights, eh?”

“You have no idea,” she muttered.

He made her a rum and Coke, something she rarely chose herself, but she gave no objections when he slid it across the table toward her. “There you are.”

“Thanks.”

He looked as if he wanted to say more, but a small group walked in and sat down at the other end of the bar, subsequently holding most of his attention for the time being. Even before this, she was grateful he hadn’t tried to flirt, or get something out of her she wasn’t willing to give. (Sleazy bartenders were just as bad as sleazy fellow-drinkers.) All he’d done was smile sympathetically and refill her drink when she’d asked.

And when she left the bar later that night and glanced back at him over her shoulder, it occurred to her she might not object to ending up at this particular spot again.

-/-

Saint Patrick’s Day was something she’d never been able to comprehend. Of course, it made sense to celebrate if you were Irish and wanted to celebrate your heritage. But most of the people she knew were Americans who used the occasion as an excuse to get drunk without judgment.

Emma couldn’t really talk badly about them considering she was on her second drink of the night. (But for all she knew, she could easily be from some kind of Irish descent via her birth-parents.) She’d chosen the same bar she’d come to on Valentine’s Day, which, again, was void of any kind of tribute to the supposed holiday. The place was crowded in comparison to her last visit, but still retained a laid-back atmosphere she knew would be difficult to find anywhere else in the city tonight.

As she sipped at her drink, she nonchalantly observed the others around her. There was another group of guys playing pool again tonight, something she assumed was a regular occurrence here. A few couples sat together at various tables around the room; she’d had fun for awhile trying to determine the status of their relationship from body language alone.

Two men sat both within speaking range with her at the bar, but thankfully, neither made any attempt at conversation. She’d spoken to no one but the bartender, a tall, curly-haired man whose accent resembled the guy who’d been working the first time she came by. He was nice enough, but she couldn’t help but be slightly disappointed to not see a somewhat familiar face.

After finishing her drink, she’d decided it was probably time to leave- she had work the next morning and knew she’d regret it if she stayed out late- when a familiar voice spoke up. “Fancy seeing you here, lass. Are you leaving?”

The bartender she’d just been thinking of now stood on the other side of the bar, arms crossed atop the wooden surface.

“Oh, um, hi,” she stammered, surprised at his sudden appearance. “Yeah, I’m working tomorrow morning. Can’t successfully catch the guy if I’m hungover.”

This piqued his interest. “Are you a cop?”

“No, bailbonds. I still try to weed out the bad guys, though.”

“What’s this about bad guys?” the other bartender walked over and interrupted them. “Is my little brother bothering you?” he asked Emma.

“Younger.” The other man- apparently his brother- rolled his eyes. “I’m Killian Jones,” he told her, “and this is Liam. We own this place, hence the name.” She glanced to her right and for the first time, noticed the sign that read “The Rusty Knot.” It was odd that she’d failed to noticed before now, but the bar did indeed have a subtle nautical theme: a decent sized model ship hung on the main wall, rope lined the edges of the tables, and the light fixture above them was even made to look like an anchor.

“Yes, we do own the bar,” the oldest one, Liam, continued. “Which is why I wanted to ensure our customers aren’t being bothered.” He glared at Killian, who just rolled his eyes. Emma couldn’t help but laugh at their interaction; they acted like kids rather than two grown men.

“No, he wasn’t bothering me,” she intervened on Killian’s behalf. “I was actually just about to leave.” She dug out enough cash for her bill and pushed it across the bar to them. “It was nice meeting both of you though.”

Both men smiled and told her goodbye, but the way Killian’s eyes caught hers as she walked out the door stuck with her for longer than was comfortable on the way home.

-/-

“I’ve gotta admit, this was not how I planned to spend my Saturday afternoon.”

Emma stood in David and Mary Margaret’s back yard, carrying a basket of eggs that she’d been instructed to hide for their son and his friend’s Easter egg hunt.

“C’mon, Em.” David took an egg from his own basket and placed it in the sandbox under one of Leo’s toys. “Besides, we get to have fun, too.” The main incentive her friends had used in order to persuade her to come early and help was they’d be having burgers and beers after the kids’ egg hunt. She liked David’s grilling too much to say no. That, and he had a cute kid.

“Am I gonna be the only one here sans child?” she asked. “Because, no offense, but that’s always awkward.” Since they’d had Leo two years ago, she’d lost count of how many times she’d come to events at David and Mary Margaret’s and been the only adult who didn’t have any input on cloth diapers or organic milk.

“No, actually. Mary Margaret’s invited some of her co-workers, and I asked some guys I met a few weeks ago at the charity soccer match to come.”

Emma let out a sigh of relief, then paused and narrowed her eyes at him. “I hope your wife knows better than to try to set me up; you never invite single guys to these things unless there’s an ulterior motive.”

“Hey, I never said they were single.”

“They aren’t?”

“Okay, they are,” David admitted. “But no worries. I’d like for you to meet them since I know all the kid stuff can be overwhelming, but I’ve made Mary Margaret promise to stop meddling in your love life.”

“Thank goodness for that.”

Half an hour later, parents arrived with their kids who immediately began tearing the yard apart to find Easter eggs. Emma stood back and watched the chaos unfold with Elsa, one of Mary Margaret’s co-workers she’d been introduced to earlier. The woman was more than friendly, and clearly understood Emma’s relief at being the only one to show up without a child or partner. They couldn’t help but laugh when little Leo had filled his basket to capacity and dumped a pile of Easter eggs in his mother’s lap so he could collect more.

The egg hunt was wrapping up when David tapped her on the shoulder. “Hey, Emma, these are the guys I was telling you about earlier. This is-”

“Killian?” She cut him off, recognizing the man behind him.

“Hello, love. Quite a small world, isn’t it?”

David was obviously confused. “Wait, you know each other?” “I’ve been to their bar a few times,” she answered. “I met him and Liam the last time I was there.” She hadn’t paid a visit to The Rusty Knot since St. Patrick’s Day, but Killian left an impression that was hard to forget.

The oldest of the two brothers was with Killian, but had stopped paying attention to them just then as he noticed Elsa standing beside her. The part of Emma that had been influenced by Mary Margaret over the years already had an idea as to where this may be going based on the look Elsa gave him in return. She couldn’t bring herself to feel disappointed.

“So,” she turned to Killian after David had left to tend to his son, “you two are friends?”

He nodded. “Aye, you could say that. I’m guessing he and his wife are friends of yours as well?”

“More like family,” she admitted. “What’s this I hear about a soccer team?” She was eager to change the subject once she realized what she’d potentially opened the door to discussing.

“Football. But yes, we have a local team that plays every other weekend.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes, but laughed instead. “Is calling it soccer that much of an offense?”

“It just doesn’t make sense when you think about it: you do kick the ball with your foot, after all.”

“Touché.” There wasn’t much of an argument she could make against that. They spent the rest of the afternoon discussing American sports (which she didn’t even like but still enjoyed the conversation all the same) and making bets on his brother’s relationship with Elsa.

“They’ll be engaged by Valentine’s Day,” she predicted.

“Are you kidding? I give him until Christmas.”

-/-

Thanks to her liking for The Rusty Knot and David and Mary Margaret’s liking to the Jones brothers, Emma quickly became used to seeing them on a somewhat regular basis. The three of them were all at the Nolan’s Memorial Day barbeque a few weeks later- Liam and Elsa attached at the hip, to no one’s surprise- and Emma ended up at the bar after another violent ordeal with a skip on the Fourth of July.

(It was getting difficult to associate Killian Jones with something besides holidays and special occasions.)

Their friendship grew quickly after they’d exchanged numbers while planning David’s surprise birthday party with Mary Margaret. (Both of them were surprised she’d managed to keep the secret from her husband.) At first, it was just casual conversation filled with his corny dad jokes and her stories about whatever scumbag she’d been tracking. But over time, it shifted to more serious topics, like abandonment, past heartbreak, and trust issues. Emma would never be able to thank him enough for the night he and Liam waived her tab at the bar- and it was a significant one- after she’d dealt with a skip who’d abandoned his family and felt little remorse. She (faintly) remembered Killian all but carrying her out of the bar and hailing a cab, refusing to leave her alone until he saw she was home safely. She couldn’t help but feel indebted to him for that one.

Emma cursed under her breath as the zipper on her costume became tangled in her hair. Tonight was Halloween; she was going with David and Mary Margaret to take Leo trick or treating before going to The Rusty Knot for the costume party she and Elsa had talked the boys into throwing. It was the first time they’d done anything remotely festive at the bar, and were both hopeful the event would draw in more business before the holidays. She’d opted for Princess Leia circa Empire Strikes Back, wearing a white shirt, vest, and pants, grey boots, her hair in a crown braid she’d finally accomplished after watching two hours worth of YouTube tutorials. Her costume idea had sparked a bit of a trend- Liam and Elsa were going as Poe and Rey, and Killian had relented to Han Solo after a bit (a lot) of convincing on her part.

Leo was adorable in his Luigi costume, resulting in dozens of oohs and ahhs from his neighbors as they went from door to door collecting candy. His parents were dressed similarly as Mario and Princess Peach, although David spent the better part of the night complaining about the fake mustache Mary Margaret forbid him to take off. (Emma had a feeling he would insist on choosing the family costume next year.)

The bar was crowded when she walked in just after nine. People were dressed as everything from Disney princesses to Freddy Krueger, who was engaged in conversation with Gandalf when she squeezed by them to find Killian. She eventually spotted him working behind the bar.

His costume suited him so well it was almost uncanny. He wore a tan shirt with a dark vest and matching pants, a leather belt and holster hanging loose around his waist. His hair was messier than usual- and- “Are you wearing eyeliner?” she asked when she finally found an empty seat at the bar.

She thought she saw him blush as he laughed and started on a drink for the person beside her. “It was Elsa’s idea,” he explained. “She says Solo is a ‘space pirate,’ and pirates wear eyeliner, so it was only fitting.”

Emma smiled. “It suits you.” She wasn’t lying. His eyes somehow looked even more blue than usual.

She ordered a beer and sat with Elsa, casually observing the costumes of others in the bar while the boys worked for the next few hours.

“What do you think the chances are they’ll do something like this again?” the blonde asked her later as the crowd began to think out.

“I don’t see why they wouldn’t, especially if it helps with business. People who had fun tonight seem likely to come again.”

“That’s true. Although I hope they won’t be upset at the lack of eyeliner on the bartender.”

It was just after midnight when she decided to leave; the way she’d felt after the last time staying at the bar until the wee hours of the morning had been enough to keep her from wanting to do it again. She said goodbye to Elsa and Liam, and walked to the other end of the bar to find Killian- only to find him engaged in conversation with Harley Quinn. The girl, who didn’t look old enough to have the drink she held, laughed shrilly at something Killian had said and leaned forward across the bar to emphasize the ample amount of cleavage visible thanks to the low neckline of her shirt.

An unexpected wave of anger hit Emma in a way she wasn’t expecting. Her hands fisted at her sides as she watched the girl run a hand down Killian’s shoulder and whisper something to him she couldn’t make out.

He looked over and noticed Emma just as she turned to leave. “Swan?” He ran out the door after her and grabbed her wrist before she could bolt. “Emma, is something wrong?”

“No,” she lied. “I’m just...not feeling well.”

Killian looked unconvinced. “Are you sure? Is there something I can do?”

She shook her head. “I’ll be fine; just wanna go home and get some rest. I’ll see you later.” She broke away from him and took off before he could respond.

Emma spent the rest of the night mentally kicking herself for her reaction to the whole thing. First of all, she hadn’t wanted Killian to see her upset. And second of all, she had no reason to be upset in the first place. He was her friend. And you weren’t supposed to feel jealous after seeing someone flirt with said friend.

Because she had been jealous.

If she were honest, she’d been attracted to Killian since they first met. It was hard not to be with his eyes, hair, smile, and the accent that made her stomach flip every time he called her “love.” But attraction and becoming furious after seeing him interact with another woman were two entirely different things.

It was all confusing, but Emma was sure of at least one thing: she was in trouble.

She ignored his texts and calls for the next two days, not knowing what to say to him that wouldn’t make things awkward. It would’ve gone on longer if Elsa hadn’t sent her a text instead. I’m not sure what’s going on with you and Killian, but you need to talk to him. He thinks he’s done something to upset you.

Elsa was right; she couldn’t avoid him forever, and it’s not as if she actually wanted to. She picked up her phone with intentions of calling him, then opted for a text at the last minute. Sorry for being MIA the past few days. I haven’t been feeling great. It wasn’t a complete lie.

He responded within seconds. I hope you’re alright. Anything I can do?

(Of course he would try to be helpful.)

“Sure, just make yourself mean and ugly so I’m not attracted to you anymore,” she muttered. No, I’m fine. See you at Leo’s birthday party next weekend?

Aye. I’ll be there.

Now to figure out how to function around him without making a mess of things.

-/-

Leo’s party went off without a hitch. Thankfully, she was too busy helping Mary Margaret decorate and supervise to spend much time with Killian. He tried to speak to her a few different times, but she kept finding things that needed to be done in order to avoid him.

To be fair, she didn’t actually want to avoid him, but there didn’t seem to be much of a choice in order to keep her newfound feelings for him at bay. The more time she spent with him, the more she’d be tempted to act on said feelings. And the last thing Emma wanted was to screw up the friendship that had quickly come to mean so much to her.

A Thanksgiving ordeal was easily avoided, as he and Liam were invited to eat with Elsa’s family. David and Mary Margaret had asked her to join them at her parents’ in Maine, but she opted to work instead, feeling as if she’d be infringing on a family that wasn’t actually hers.

Twice, she’d gone to The Rusty Knot out of a sense of obligation, but managed to pick nights when business was booming and Killian had stayed occupied at the bar. She knew he was fully aware of the distance growing between them; she’d been giving one word replies to most of his texts, even when he sent her no less than a dozen lame jokes in hopes of getting some kind of positive response out of her. Emma had laughed at loud as she sat in her living room and read them all, but only replied, funny.

She quickly found herself dreading Christmas. David and Mary Margaret were staying in town and hosting dinner at their house, meaning she would have no choice but to be in close quarters with Killian. All she could do was hope there would be enough commotion to keep him from finally confronting her for being so distant since Halloween.

He wasn’t the only one who’d noticed her behavior, either. Liam, Elsa, David, and Mary Margaret had all mentioned it to her at least once over the past few weeks. All seemed to be displeased with her excuse of being busy with work, but she stuck to the argument criminals didn’t even take the holidays off. If she told them the truth, she’d never hear the end of it. (And Killian would likely hear all of it.)

Emma spent the majority of Christmas Day trying to come up with an excuse to get out of dinner before she admitted it was no use. If she told David and Mary Margaret she was sick, they’d show up at her apartment and insist on taking care of her. They wouldn’t believe that she had to work since she’d already told them weeks ago she’d taken the entire last week of the month off. She was still thinking of possible excuses even as she dressed in her favorite red dress and heels and left for her friends’ home.

Mary Margaret had told her to come at half past six, but she could tell she’d somehow still arrived late at six-fifteen. No less than a dozen cars were parked around the Nolan house; Emma regretted her decision to wear uncomfortable shoes as soon as she realized how far away she would have to park.

The front door swung open before she had the chance to knock. “Emma!” She all but fought for air as David hugged her tightly.

“I’m glad to see you too, but maybe let me breathe so it’s not the last time we see each other?”

He quickly released her. “Oh, sorry. Come on in; everyone is almost here now.”

David wasn’t kidding. She spent most of her time eating an unhealthy amount of Mary Margaret’s snickerdoodles while somewhat socializing with the other partygoers. (Emphasis on “somewhat.”) She had caught a glimpse of Killian when he and Liam arrived shortly after her, but kept towards the back of the crowd and hoped he wouldn’t spot her. This lasted almost an hour before she began to accept just how exhausting avoiding him for the last several weeks had actually been.

As if she’d read her mind, Elsa seemed to appear out of nowhere and cornered her in the Nolan’s den. “Elsa, what are you-”

“Cut the crap, Emma.”

“What?”

“I don’t know what’s been going on between you and Killian, but enough is enough. The poor guy is acting like he’s lost his best friend- which, I guess he has.” Elsa frowned. “At least do him the justice of explaining why you’ve chosen to avoid him like the plague.”

This proved just how much Elsa had come to care about both of the Jones brothers; Emma would have expected this confrontation from Liam rather than her. “You’re right, I’ve been horrible to him,” she admitted. “I’ll go talk to him now if it helps.” Leaving the party altogether seemed preferable to spilling her guts to him. In fact, Emma could easily think of quite a few things she’d rather do. But none of it seemed worth damaging her friendship with Killian any more than she already had.

At least Elsa seemed pleased with this turn of events. “Good. He was outside when I last saw him.” Probably moping about you she didn’t add.

Emma found him alone out on the Nolan’s back porch. He leaned against the railing, hands in his pockets, looking just as Elsa had said. The sad expression on his face was enough to make her heart sink. “Hey.” She smiled at him for what felt like the first time in months.

The smile he gave in return didn’t reach his eyes. “Hello, Swan.”

“Can we talk?”

“Aye.” He raised his eyebrows, surprised at her request. “What’s on your mind, love?”

She walked over and leaned on the porch railing beside him. “A lot of things. I think I owe you an apology.”

“Why is that?”

“You know why. I’ve been avoiding you for weeks for no good reason other than my own pride.”

He didn’t respond, indicating for her to continue.

“You remember Halloween, right? The costume thing you guys had at the bar?” she asked before she lost her nerve. She told Killian about the girl she’d seen flirting with him and what it made her realize afterwards. It all came out in a stream of words that she hoped he’d be able to comprehend since there was little chance she’d be capable of repeating it all again. “I’m sorry if this makes things weird now. I’m sure I can just get over it, but I thought you deserved to know the truth.”

Emma watched him nervously out of the corner of her eye. She could see conflicting emotion on his face as he processed all she’d told him. Had she just ruined their friendship? Did Killian think she was ridiculous?

What he said was the last thing she expected to hear. “Swan, can I kiss you?”

“Wait, what?”

“Sorry for being presumptuous, but I just figured as you have feelings for me, and I have feelings for you-”

Emma just laughed as she grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him forward to fuse his lips with hers. The rest could wait.

-/-

“What a year, huh?”

The Rusty Knot was packed, everyone crowded around the newly installed flat screen to watch the live broadcast from Times Square. They were all together: Emma, Killian, Liam, Elsa (who wore the ring Liam had proposed with on Christmas night, Killian continued to gloat about predicting that one.) Even David and Mary Margaret, who always worried about leaving Leo with a babysitter, had made arrangements to be there.

She smiled at Killian as he sat on the bar stool beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. They still had yet to actually discuss just what was starting between them, but she wasn’t scared of it anymore. Whether or not he knew it, he’d shown her over the span of the year that he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I’m kind of sad to see it end, though.”

“As am I. But,” he smiled, “I’ve a feeling this next one might be the best year yet.”

They looked over as everyone in the bar began to count down with the timer on the TV screen. “Ten, nine, eight.”

“You know something, Killian?”

“Seven, six, five.”

“What’s that, love?”

“Four, three two.”

“I think you’re right.”

And when he kissed her on “one,” she knew he was.

[mustlovetights]

Bake’n Bits

A little Cop!Jack/Baker!Bitty Check Please AU!

Also on AO3

“Wow Bits, I’m shocked and astounded to find you here, mooning over hot cop. Again.” Lardo slapped a covered takeout mug of cappuccino and a white paper sack on the counter. “You’re welcome.”

Bitty frowned at the bag. “What’s this?”

Lardo pushed him toward the door. “A date.”

Bitty skirted the corner of the counter and shook his head. “Oh no. Oh no no no.”

“Eric Richard Bittle.” Lardo’s face was rapidly turning an alarming shade of pink. She thrust a finger toward the road. “You rearranged your baking schedule, and changed the start times of your lunch special, all to make sure that every single day you are standing right here—” She slapped the counter with her palm.  “When Mr. Universe climbs his tight ass out of that black and white to take a beat walk around the block.”

“I don’t rearrange my baking schedule,” Bitty mumbled, scuffing the floor with one toe.

“Yes you do!” Lardo shouted.

Bitty’s eyes widened; he had never heard Lardo raise her voice outside of a hockey game. Best friends since college, he had been more than grateful for her support (and cheap labor) when he decided to open Bake’n Bits (half bakery, half whatever he felt like cooking for lunch that day) after graduation. It had been a risk—his savings was meager and Providence didn’t have the familiarity of either home (Georgia) or Samwell University, their alma mater. But it did have the most perfect downtown location: a recently vacated coffee shop with a bonus apartment upstairs. The shop was settled between a quirky used book store with a mustachioed proprietor, and a busy hair and nail salon, and it had honestly been love at first sight. Bitty had stood on the cobbled stone sidewalk, directly under the painted swinging sign, and imagined all the beautiful pastries and pies he could arrange in the display window.  

It had taken two small loans (one from his parents and one from his Moomaw), and a huge leap of faith, but in just six months, Bake’n Bits was already in the black. It helped that Lardo had followed Bitty to Providence, willing to work for less than she was worth—let’s be honest—in exchange for a couch to sleep on and plenty of time to curate her portfolio. That decision, too, had been ultimately auspicious, because the art of Larissa ‘Lardo’ Duan would soon be featured in its very first show.

They were living the dream.

Except for the part where Bitty had no social life, he had to soak his feet every night like an 80 year old man, and the last time he had sex (with another person), he was wearing a college logo tank top unironically.

He grabbed the coffee cup and the sack and turned to face the street. He inhaled through his nose and then straightened his shoulders and marched to the door.

“Calm down, you’re not headed off to war,” Lardo snickered, as he threw himself into the sunlight.

Bitty held up a middle finger over his shoulder, blinking against the brightness of the late summer afternoon. As if on queue, Hot Cop was just passing the salon, and would be on him (ha, in his dreams) in five, four, three, two—

“Hi.” Bitty thrust his armful of baked goods and caffeine toward the tall—very tall, holy Jesus—stranger.  

The officer blinked, his blue eyes clear and ultra bright in his handsome face. Zimmermann, his nametag read. When he remained frozen there, staring down at him, Bitty blanched and tried again. Mostly because Lardo was probably recording the entire exchange on her phone for blackmail purposes. “I, um,” he jerked his head toward the bakery door. “I see you, every day, and I thought…” He shrugged, trailing off on a defeated sigh. Who am I fooling? “Fresh baked. On the house.” He shoved the bag and the cup in Officer Zimmermann’s wide, toned—uniformed—chest and fled.

...

He had been in the walk-in cooler for five solid minutes when Lardo opened the door and leaned against the jamb.

“So. You coming out any time soon?”

“No.” Bitty scowled at the clipboard in his hand. “I’m taking inventory.”

“I see that.” Lardo picked at a splotch of paint on her index finger. “So is it important? This inventory?”

“Yes.” Bitty had just aligned every box on the shelf in front of him and he ran his finger across their symmetrical faces with a happy sigh.

“More important than a smoking hot police officer who might, at this very moment, be sitting at our counter, about to bust out of his very tight poly blend snap front, asking about bear claws?”

“What!?” Bitty almost dropped the clipboard.

Lardo shrugged. “Because I can tell him to leave. We don’t need the cops to start freeloading, hanging around, drinking our coffee, expecting food for—mmph.”

Bitty squished her cheeks between his hands. “I will run all of your paintbrushes through the garbage disposal Larissa, if you are even one half ounce shitting me.”

Lardo squirmed out of his grasp. “You touch my brushes, Richard, you die.” She sniffed. “He’s there. Needs a refill.” She very pointedly walked to the door that led to their apartment. “I’m going on a very long break.”

Bitty threw the clipboard on a shelf in the cooler and slammed the door. “Breathe,” he whispered, slapping his cheeks a few times for good measure. “You can do this, Bittle. He’s just a man.” He faltered halfway across the floor. “A blazing hot, beautiful man. With man parts. And shoulders. And ass. Mother of God.” He covered his eyes for a beat before checking his hair in the polished steel bowl of his stand mixer and striding out to meet his customer.

Officer Zimmerman was no longer sitting at the counter, his pretty, pretty figure filling the far left corner between a café table and a booth. He was reading a framed newspaper story about the Samwell Men’s Hockey team, and their bid for a national championship, Bitty’s blurry face in the accompanying photo clearly recognizable.

Bitty cleared his throat. “Seems like a long time ago.” He smiled at the officer’s startled glance.

“You played?”

Bitty hid his smile at the surprised tone; story of his life. “Yeah. Four years.” He nodded at the photo. “We only made it to the finals once, but man what a memory.”

“I’ll bet.” Officer Zimmermann shifted his weight and clasped his hands in front of him, endearingly awkward. Bitty might as well have been a puddle at his feet.

“So, bear claws, huh?” Bitty grabbed the nearest coffee pot and filled a fresh mug, sliding it into place beside the cardboard travel cup at the counter. He winked and slipped on a pair of clear gloves. “I’m fresh out of those today, but I think I have something you might like.” He reached into the baked goods case and chose an apple fritter, it’s buttery, flaky crust the picture of perfection. He plated it on a white saucer and presented it with a flourish. “Hope you like apple.”

Officer Zimmermann slid onto a stool with the tiniest hint of a smile. “I do.”

Bitty tried not to clutch his chest when he took the first bite, the tip of his tongue flicking out to catch a stray crumb. (Bitty would so do that for him, if he just asked.) He grinned at the enthusiastic moan, glad the counter was between them so he could surreptitiously rearrange himself in his shorts. He was having a dry spell, okay? Handsome men moaning, with tongue, were Just. Not. Fair. “Good?”

Officer Zimmermann held up one finger while he took another bite, his second groan even more suggestive than the first. “This is amazing.”

When he thoroughly licked his fingers, Bitty nearly came on the spot. He fanned himself and spoke before he thought. “My goodness, Officer Zimmermann. You do know how to eat a fritter.”

There was a beat of silence, and then the officer snorted, a bright pink flush traveling across his cheeks and down the open vee of his shirt. “Well, it’s good. Damn near—” Those blue eyes were twinkling mischievously when they met Bitty’s. “Orgasmic.”

Bitty was going to marry this man. He thrust one hand over the counter. “Eric Bittle. Orgasmic baker.” He bit his lip. “And part-time short order cook.”

Officer Zimmermann took his hand and held it, his palm warm and slightly damp. “Jack Zimmermann.” His slow onceover down Bitty’s aproned form was borderline illegal. “Providence police officer and…” He grinned and Bitty nearly passed out. “Passionate eater.”

“I’ll say,” Bitty muttered. The tips of his fucking ears were burning. He tugged his hand free, wiping it on his apron as he turned. “You eat things that aren’t dessert, Officer Zimmermann?” He busied himself pouring his own cup of coffee. The shop was empty. He could take a break.

“Jack.” He was all but pouting when Bitty turned around, and he had to slap a palm on the countertop to circumnavigate a swoon.

“Jack.” Bitty rolled the word around his tongue; it felt good. Right. “Jack, I’m going to cook dinner for you tonight.” He leaned over the counter on his elbows, idly stirring a three packets of sugar into his coffee cup. “What’s your pleasure?”

Jack’s warm gaze never left his face. “Surprise me.”

Naked sushi might be too much for a first date, Bitty thought a little desperately. “I hope you like Japanese,” he said with a smile.

…

[after-skies-ananthology]

I'm a member of the President's new space force, here's what I've seen so far

BLACK SKY WARS

the second part

approx. 5 yrs ASE

You ever been inside a Colorado police station before? Here’s a better question, have you ever had to pick up your troubled brother from a Colorado police station before? If you have, then you may be able to sympathize with my plight that day. I had been waiting there since 1300 for him to be released. Our parents died about a year after I left for the Army. We have very few relatives who cared about us (my parents were pretty much the blacksheep of their families), so it was of course down to me to take care of him. It’s probably for the best that it happened this way I suppose. Being in the military, I get all sorts of benefits and on-base housing necessary to help raise him until he’s an adult. Which makes one side of that equation easy. The other side, the actually parenting him side, well, I just don’t know. He’s about 16 now. Gets in fights all the time. I think he may be apart of some anarchist punk gang that spray paints public property and vandalizes abandoned areas or some shit like that. I can’t really keep up with it. We barely see each other. He’s never home. I think - well, I mean, I’m never home.

I had volunteered for an earlier transition into the Space Corps than the rest of my unit after being offered a lucrative bonus. I’ve been an E-6 for three years now. And I’d say with confidence that I’m pretty good at my job. My military job, not my parenting one, that is. I suppose the military offered me that bonus for my skills in tracking space objects and directing joint partners against spaceborne threats - not my skills in guiding my brother through life and giving him a chance to feel like a happy, successful adult. I apologize for how depressing I must sound. But I’m doing the best I can. And I’m starting to think the best I can do is not good enough. I feel like the more successful I am in the military, the more I fail my little brother as his guardian.

The cops had called me while I was at work. Me and the newest member of my section were going over Counterspace Academics, which is the term we use for the death by powerpoint sessions we put our people through every now and then just to make sure they still know their job. It is ungodly boring stuff sometimes. Basic shit everyone knows out of tech school. The NCOIC for our flight was droning on about one of the first anti-satellite weapons (ASAT) tested by the United States back when women still wore shoulder pads. The ASM-135 Bold Orion II. Basically a converted nuclear cruise missile with it’s warhead taken out, and replaced with a hardened micro-satellite that would detach from it once in orbit and then proceed to smash into its target like a hockey player. The Air Force was even successful in taking out one of its own failed satellites with the 135, proving it could work. However, due to the death of the Soviet Union, and increasing skepticism surrounding the Strategic Defense Initiative, the project was quietly cancelled. That was until defense industry executive and weapon designer “extraordinaire” Frank Monterrey stuck his nose in it.

Mad Monterrey cried foul before the ink even dried on the cancellation orders. He then proceeded to cry foul for over a decade after that. In the 90s and early 2000s, he would even buy late night air time on a few of the major networks to present his case for renewed ASAT development and even - you guessed it - an independent space branch of the military. Today, my unit is responsible for the direction and employment of the fruits of his ‘labor’. The General Systems ASM-270 Orion’s Revenge. This one is not only faster than the 135, but it has more destructive potential as well. After passing through the mesosphere and into the thermosphere, its first stage detaches allowing its second stage to engage briefly for several seconds in a wild fireball. After this initial burst of flames is over, the rotors attached at the nose unfold from the missile’s remaining fuselage like a parasol. Small angled tip jets located at the end of each rotor blade then ignite, allowing the weapon to adjust its velocity as it enters orbit.

As it approaches the vicinity of its prey, the tip jets deactivate. At this point, the missile’s rotors (made of a special hardened alloy) can be used to permanently damage or completely destroy whatever they impact. After a few goes, whatever rotors remain can be used to steer the ASAT to its final target using its last bit of fuel - killing the adversary space object with a kinetic blow via the tungsten encased cone that constitutes its nose. Using this method, the 270 is capable of targeting a small constellation of targets (usually three to five objects, depending on size). Because of how it unfolds after launch, those in our unit have taken to calling it the The Killer Umbrella.

Sorry, I feel like I went off on a tangent there. We’re supposed to be talking about my brother. His name is Jerry. Our mom named him that because... Um, well, I’ll be honest I can’t remember now. She told me once when I was younger but, I don’t seem to have soaked it in. Let’s see, I know he skateboards. And, well, I think he likes to vape (maybe?). I know he listens to that genre of music on the internet, vaporwaver, or something like that? That’s... probably why I think he vapes. This is kind of embarrassing to admit but - I’m supposed to take care of him, and I’ve been taking care of him for quite some time now, and yet I don’t know a thing about him with any certainty. I can talk for days about this missile I’ve only seen pictures of in a class room, give you every little detail of its development and even the politics surrounding it, but I can’t be bothered to even invest a minutia of time into figuring out who he is or the kind of young man he’s developing into. I guess I shouldn’t blame anyone other than myself when he gets in trouble like this.

It took me about thirty minutes to leave base and arrive at the police station. I walked up to the sheriff’s deputy sitting at the front desk and asked him my question, “Hi there, my name is Wesley Fervek. I received a call telling me my little brother Jerry has been arrested?”

The deputy looked me up and down, dressed in my OCPs, with new Space Corps regalia adorned upon it. He replied, “Uhh yeah, the little skater asshole, spat at me when they brought him and his punk friends in.”

I scratched the back of my head and tried to save face, “I’m really sorry he did that. I think he may just have a lot of adrenaline and peer pressure going through him right now. He’s really not like this.”

“Right.” The deputy said as he rolled his eyes, picking up the phone at his desk. “Ray, its Diaz, skater asshole’s brother is here to pick him up...“ He looked back up at me, noticing the name tape on my left chest that read U.S. SPACE CORPS. He joked to his friend over the phone, “Oh, scratch that, Buzz Lightyear’s bottom bitch is here to pick him up.” He began to chuckle as he threw the phone back down into its place, forming a shit eating grin as he looked at me and said, “Hey man, relax. I’m just having a little fun at your expense. He did spit at me after all.”

I kept back the urge to throw my fist through the glass that separated us. “Right.” I said back to him. “So I take it he’s not being charged with anything?”

He said, “That’s right, one of his little friends was the one that actually assaulted someone. With a knife no less. From what the victim told us, your brother tried to calm things down. Anyways, you can have a seat over there while my friends finish questioning him.” He pointed to rows of wooden chairs behind me, arranged to face the bulky box TV that belonged to some other era of history.

I furrowed my brow and said “Thanks” under my breath, trying to prevent my anger at this prick from swelling out of control. I sat down in one of the front chairs and checked my phone, I saw that I had received a text from one of my troops. Her name was Space Specialist First Class June Alvarez, and she was one of many to be the first to attend Space Corps basic training at Lackland Air Force Base. Her text read, “Sergeant, I know you had to go to the police station, but could you hurry back? The powerpoint is over and we’re back to work now, but I’m still pretty lost on some of the telemetry stuff you were showing me earlier and no one really wants to help me at the moment.”

I texted her back, “I’ll be as fast as I can but these cops are being assholes right now. Go get Sergeant Flores, I know she’s studying for her 7-level test, but if you really are in dire need of help right now she shouldn’t be too mad that you’re interrupting her.”

I sat back and stared at the blurry, horribly antiquated machine in front of me as it spewed out ad after incessant ad. One featuring a beautiful young bikini-clad blonde sipping a Sodaco amidst a conga line on the beach - Introducing Sodaco Lime, the voice-over said, the familiar taste that America trusts with a refreshing twist. Another featuring footage taken from the Armstrong moon base, with the ERAS logo in the corner, finally centering on the company’s CEO with a drink in his hand as the music from 2001 plays in the background. This time the voice-over said - Mental is now the official soft drink of ERAS CEO Hood Fisher, what’s yours? Get Mental or get out! Finally, a less annoying one appeared after that was over. This time featuring supersonic airliners elegantly passing through clouds set to the tune of a soothing score. The voice-over asked, With a safety record and time to destination like ours, just remind us again - Why wouldn’t you fly Air Virginia?

After that hell of hokey commercials was past, the news returned. The commentator was grey-haired, bespectacled, and wearing a dark blue tie, signifying his well-known outspoken support for the Alliance Party. “Breaking at the top of the hour, our coverage continues on the situation in the Indian Ocean as it now appears attack boats belonging to the New Indies Construction Front have besieged a Navy hospital ship attempting to relieve wounded and dead from evacuated American and allied forces that escaped Diego Garcia last week...” He then proceeded to go into a long rant about the President and the Homeland Party while talking over a reporter who was live from the scene. The TV signal must have become distorted somehow, because eventually I couldn’t understand a word he was saying. It was as if he was mumbling. The picture on the screen blurred out even more, making the images depicted indiscernible. I began to feel weird physically. Light headed. I’m not sure if it was the stress of the day or the fact that I had been sitting there a while or what, but I had this gnawing sense of danger in the pit of my chest. The room became bright, and for a second, I thought I saw some sort of indescribable shape appear out from behind the TV.

All of the sudden, I heard a voice speak to me. not from any direction, but as if from all directions.

“You must wait to hit your target until 1935. No later. Do not let the girl with the long legs see what you are doing.“

I woke up out of my trance, shouting “What?” as I realized nothing was behind the TV. I was in a cold sweat now. I felt as though I had just woken up early in the morning. I looked outside, the sun was beginning to go down. How long was I out? Was I ‘out’? The program I was watching was over now, the blue haired woman with the FPML button on her lapel was on instead. Knowing that she comes on quite a few program slots after the old guy with the dark blue tie, I inferred that I must have napped for... four hours? “What the fuck?” I said out loud as I quickly took out my phone. It was dead. “Not good.” I said to myself.

Just then the door to the detention area opened. I turned my head and saw Jerry. “Alright, we’re done questioning the little punk.” The deputy from before said, pushing Jerry forward into the waiting room. He was holding his favorite skateboard in his hands, gifted to him by our dad many Christmases ago, now broken in half.

Jerry turned around a gave him the middle finger. “Lick my ass, pig!”

I shouted at him. “Jerry! Knock that shit off. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He turned and saw me, now becoming even angrier. Everything became silent for a moment. Finally, he spoke up and said “Can we just get the hell out of here? I’m tired of smelling pork.” He looked back at the cop and gave him a scowl.

I grabbed him by the shoulder, “Be quiet so we can leave, moron.”

He flinched and brushed my hand off. “I don’t need your stupid ass advice.” He said angrily, and walked threw the doors outside to the parking lot. I followed him.

As he approached my truck, I unlocked it for him so he could get inside. But before he did, he slammed the remnants of his board into the bed of the pick-up. I yelled at him again, “Could you not throw shit around like that? This is my truck! I paid for it. It’s what gets you to school!”

He yelled at me in turn, “Could you shut the fuck up for once? Goddamn you’re so fucking annoying.“ Slamming the passenger side door on me before I could say anything back.

Not wanting to take this any further, I walked around to the driver’s side. As I started the engine, I realized from before that my phone was dead. I plugged it into to my car charger. I noticed then Jerry had a tear rolling down the side of his face. I know he must have been upset by the whole ordeal. I tried to speak to him, beginning to verbalize his name, but before I could get anything else out my phone reactivated and alerted me with a series of text message and missed call alerts. My attention was fixated on that now as I realized I had missed over thirty text messages from seven different people and eighteen phone calls from Alvarez, Flores, and my NCOIC.

I opened Alvarez’s most recent message. “Sergeant, where are you? The NCOIC has been trying to call you for two hours now. He needs you to get down here quick! I’m not gonna say why because OPSEC, but get down here! Please!”

I let out one long “Fuck!” as I read that. Jerry wiped his face with his shirt and asked “What now?”

Without answering I bolted the truck out of the parking space and started driving back to base twenty or thirty miles over the speed limit. Jerry kept trying to ask me questions on the way there, realizing there was something wrong, but I refused to talk to him. I just kept dropping F bombs over and over as I swerved in and out of potential car crashes on the way back to the squadron control room. We finally got to the gate, and I hurriedly took out my CAC card and gave it to the Security Forces guy standing outside my truck. The airman scanned it and said, “His too please.” Pointing at Jerry.

I screamed at my brother, “Come on give me your goddamn ID!”

He screamed back “Alright! Calm down. Jesus.”

The airman looked calm as I had my episode. I gave him the ID to scan, and he let us on our way. Arriving at my unit’s building, I cut someone in a muscle car off before they could take the space that I wanted. I left the windows rolled down, turned the engine off and hopped out. Jerry was still inside. He shouted at me, indignant, “How goddamn long are you gonna be?”

I cringed, turning to him as I took my wallet out, removing my CAC card and security badge from it. I threw it at him and said “If you want dinner, walk down to the BX and get something from the food court!” I booked it into the building.

As I ran up to the polarized bullet proof glass doors protecting the world of my profession from prying eyes outside, I saw the sign placed just before the steps proudly displaying our squadron’s battle cry below our new service’s motto. The former read “WE MAINTAIN THE BALANCE”, with the latter exclaiming “SECURE THE HIGH GROUND”. I pulled on the door handle, rushing inside as I was met with another Security Forces airman who needed to check my security badge before letting me through. After being let inside, I sprinted down the hallway to the control room where my work station was. There were five people crowded around it. The NCOIC, Alvarez, and two women in Class B uniforms who were unfamiliar to me. There name plates read “Hayek” and “Hayek-Song” respectively, which made me wonder if they were siblings or something. The one with the hyphenated surname was an E-6 like me, which is called a Color Sergeant in the Space Corps. The other one was an officer, O-3, a Captain. They were almost twins, I thought to myself. And extremely attractive to boot.

The NCOIC looked at me and yelled, “Where the hell have you been?“

I tried to explain, exasperated. “I’m sorry Sergeant my phone died and somehow I got knocked out-“

He cut me off. “I don’t want to hear it right now. I’m frankly shocked you’d display this kind of behavior. We’re gonna have a long talk after today, I can tell you that much. Sit down and help Alvarez out. She needs it.”

“Roger Sergeant.” I said, defeated. I sat down next to Alvarez in my swivel chair as he walked up the steps to where the commander and the other higher-ups were. Sergeant Flores was at the work station in front of us tracking something else.

I asked the Space Specialist, “So what the hell happened?”

Alvarez explained, “Well after I texted you, me and Sergeant Flores started tracking one of those Chinese space flights they’ve been doing for awhile now. I know they’re just testing, but this time they went near New America. Two of them in fact. It was kind of like that thing they did last week when they overflew Armstrong, but not as bad as that time when they almost smashed into that damaged MS-1A we were monitoring.”

I asked, “Ok, so... what happened? Did they do something belligerent?”

“No,” she said, “they’ve just been sitting there doing some EVA. Sergeant Flores is still tracking them. I think they’re about to pack up and leave right now actually.”

I was confused. “Ok, then what’s the problem exactly?” I demanded to know.

She groaned, “That!”, pointing at the big screen in front of the entire room.

Depicted on it was an amorphous object. I can’t really describe it effectively. But it looked strangely familiar. It was black, resembling a cloak without a wearer maybe. I’m not sure. I was looking directly at it, but it was also as if I wasn’t at the same time. Like how things blur out in the periphery of your vision, only this was smack dab in front of me. I asked, lost for words, “What is that Al?”

She responded, “After we were able to get a fix on them Pine Gap contacted us. They wanted to know if we could check to see if there were any foreign space assets near one of their surveillance satellites that had become unresponsive. That’s when we found it. It wasn’t doing anything really, it was just sort of, near it. We gathered some basic information about its position and size as it moved on towards a commercial satellite in the vicinity. It stayed there for a while, but then it just darted out of view towards L5 without any warning.”

“Towards the Chinese?” I asked. She nodded her head. “Well, what is it then? Some PLA weapon we’ve never seen before?” I asked again.

“No, I-” She stuttered. “I-I think they’re as confused as we are. As soon as it showed up behind the construction site for the orbital settlement, they stopped doing maneuvers and started observing it. It detached... something just before you got back and one of them got out to capture it we think. But whatever split off from it seems to have disappeared somehow. I don’t know. This all very strange Sergeant.“

I looked up at the two women with the similar last names. I leaned over to whisper in Alvarez’s ear. “Who are those two?”

“They’re from Virginia, or something.” She said under her breath.

“What?” I said. I began to feel as though this was too much for a day like today.

“That’s what I said. I think maybe they’re Intel people, but I’m not sure. But the thing is they showed up with all this data on the object. It’s usual orbit trajectory, flight path history, more detailed dimensions, frequencies it operates on, tons of stuff we would have never figured out ourselves. It’s almost like they’ve been tracking it for years.”

That’s when the Captain interjected. “Talking about us kids?”

My eyes widened. “No Ma’am! I mean... I’m sorry, I forget my rank.”

She reassured me, “It’s quite alright Sergeant, I know this must be a lot to take in. I don’t blame you.” She turned to her friend next to her and said “Constance, go chat up the commander for a bit I think he feels left out. I have this handled over here.”

“Yes Ma’am.” The Color Sergeant affirmed, and walked off.

The captain sat down in an empty chair next to me, crossing her legs and planting her heels on the desk in front of us. For a second, she managed to distract me. Alright, cut me some slack. I am a guy after all. But she didn’t distract me for long. Her voice broke my concentration. “Specialist, we’re probably going to need you guys to start making some calls to get something scrambled here pretty soon.“

“Yes Ma’am, I’m sending a request out to NORAD right now.” Alvarez responded.

“Good girl.” The Captain complimented (or belittled) her. I could tell it irritated Alvarez somewhat. “Sergeant could you double check something for me?“ She asked.

“Yes Ma’am, what?“

She went on, “The commercial satellite the object interacted with earlier. Could you find out who it belongs to?“

“Roger that Ma’am.” I typed away at my keyboard, collecting the information for her. I pulled the satellite’s designation up on my screen. “ERAS-1212-0“ I said aloud. I crosschecked its name on the government’s registry of civilian-owned space assets. “It says its owned by ERAS ma’am, but it has some sort of note under its listing... let’s see... Here, it says its a broadcast satellite operated by ERAS and contracted out to a television provider.“ I lingered on those last few words. Television provider. My mind went back to what I saw earlier before. I wasn’t sure if I should tell anyone or not.

“Hmm... Thank you Sergeant.” The Captain said, and pulled out her government phone to begin texting someone on it.

Just then Sergeant Flores spoke, pointing at the screen in a panic. “Look!” The object was suddenly in front of one of the Shenlongs she had been tracking. The other Shenlong, it seemed, was running away from the situation - leaving its comrade behind.

“How the hell did it get there?“ The NCOIC said out loud. “Flores are they still doing EVA?“ He asked.

“I can’t tell Sergeant, that thing’s messing up all our sensors. I can’t even contact the other monitors we have nearby... Wait! Look what it has!” The Sergeant blew up what she was referring to on the big screen. It was a tungsten rod, used for construction of one of the orbital settlements. It wasn’t holding it, but it was as if it were orbiting the object itself, like it was its own planet or something.

The Captain stood up from her seat and started to sound a bit panicked. “Holy shit. Sir, it’s what I said before. It’s going to conduct a kinetic strike. Probably for here!”

The commander nodded at her and took control. “Alright people, it’s the fourth quarter, and this is the ten yard line with our backs to our own end-zone. Sergeant Fervek, what’s going on with NORAD?”

Alvarez butt in before I could respond. “They just got back to us Sir. There’s a couple of F-15s out of Oregon that can be ready to go in 90 minutes.”

“Not good enough, we need something in less than 60 or we aren’t gonna make it out of this alive.” He informed her.

I looked at the information NORAD had supplied us with, and interjected. “Sir, there’s a pair of Aggressors out of Nellis on TDY flying back from Miramar right now.”

“Yeah, so?” He questioned me.

“Well Sir, they’re less than 10 minutes away from Edwards at the moment. We could have them land there to be fitted with the 270s Edwards still has on hand. They could be armed and back up in the air within 40 to 50 if everything goes right.“ I explained.

He looked unsure. He gave a skeptical glance to the NCOIC. Just before he could say something back, the Captain intervened. “Sir, this sounds like the best option we have at the moment. If the information I briefed you on earlier is right then I don’t think we have a lot of time on our hands to play footsie with NORAD all day.”

He looked over the room contemplating her answer, reading all our faces. “Alright... Alright, call them up and get it going. No more screwing around with this thing.” He said with a cautioned tone in his voice.

About 60 minutes later we were ready to go. The F-15s had taken back off from Edwards, and headed towards Death Valley at supersonic speeds. An AWACS from NORAD patched in their position to us, and relayed a comm link with the flight lead. I had everything at my station ready to go. Alvarez would keep tabs on the object’s movements, while I would guide the F-15s into position and provide them with the necessary targeting information to input into the ASM-270′s ‘brain’. Captain Hayek would continue to observe and advise us from behind. I looked back at the commander for a quick second, he saw me and said “You got this Sarge. Take this bastard out.“ I nodded to him in affirmation.

I put the headset on and keyed up the comm link with the pilot. “Breaker 11. This is Bighorn Control. Do you read me?”

“Roger that son, this is Breaker 11 and 12, we’re packing heat now and ready to enter our climb.” The pilot explained.

“That’s perfect Sir. Object hasn’t moved so far, and if it stays that way we shouldn’t have to waste a second shot.“ I brought the object up on my screen, taking note of the information Alvarez had just collected on it. “Alright Breaker 11, Bighorn Control says you can initiate your climb. Please notify me when you reach angels 30.”

“Copy that Bighorn. We should be there in about 15 to 20 mikes.“ The pilot radioed back.

The wait for them to get into position was shorter than expected, but grueling all the same. We were at 75 minutes now with a gun pointed at our head. The object stayed in place, tungsten rod still circling it like a late night mugger with knife in hand. My chest was pounding, throat lumpy, head splitting open from all the stress of the situation. Finally the pilot radioed back in. “Alright Bighorn Control, angels 30. Awaiting orders.“

“That’s great news Breaker 11. Pulling the target’s orbital position up now.“ I then gave him the necessary numbers. After a small conversation between him and his wingman I could hear through the headset, he responded again.

“Alright Bighorn, Breaker 12′s telling me he’s locked and loaded.” He said.

“Alright Sir. Hit angels 32 and fire away!” I informed him.

The aircraft climbed a bit more. The sky must have been the darkest shade of blue anyone could imagine at that point, I thought to myself. The wingman screamed over the radio, “BREAKER 12, FOX 5!“ The missile detached from the centerline pylon of the aircraft, the F-15 breaking away and turning around back towards Earth as its first stage ignited. We picked the missile’s location up on our side, tracking it on the big screen. At my work station however I had more specific information about the weapon’s speed, velocity, its ultimate target, and when its first stage would separate. I looked at the clock on my computer. 1908 hrs.

Again I thought back to the events earlier that day. Something was gnawing at me again, deep in the pit of my chest. At this rate, the object should be struck before 1935. That should be good. But why do I feel like it’s not? Perhaps it’s just the stress again. I’m sure. But... God, oh God. I can’t. Something isn’t right. I can’t let this continue. I can’t let it happen before... Before. Before 1935. I looked over my shoulder at the Captain, she was acting as though she was watching the missile’s flight path on the big screen like everyone else. But I knew she was taking glances at what I was doing here and there... Why? Did.. she know? How could she know? I hovered my cursor over the control for the missile’s first stage. I typed in what I knew to be the incorrect separation point. My ring finger glided over to the enter key and stayed there. I looked back over my shoulder again. She was locking eyes with me now. I looked past her, glazing my eyes over, as though I let something inside of me take over my actions.

“Sergeant?” She questioned softly. I don’t think anyone else could hear her. “Sergeant!“ She said again, under her breath.

I pressed the enter key.

The first stage detached before the correct altitude could be reached. No matter what the second stage tried to do at this point, it would never be able to reach orbit, and was thus a failure. Everyone in the room began to scream, questioning what happened. I threw Alvarez under the bus, saying that she must have given me the wrong altitude. She looked confused, and upset that I would betray her like that. Why was I doing this? What was wrong with me? Could it really be the stress? Captain Hayek didn’t say anything, or call me out. But somehow, I think she was well aware of what I had done.

I radioed back to Breaker 11, letting him know the shot was a failure, and ordered him to turn back around in order to reach 32,000 feet again. He affirmed and proceeded, but before I could relay the targeting information to the pilot like before, Captain Hayek spoke up. “I think Specialist Alvarez should take this Sergeant. Give her your headset.”

“I...“ I didn’t know what to say.

The officer narrowed her eyes. “I said... Specialist Alvarez should take this one. Sergeant. I don’t want anyone interfering with our little game.” She said it softly but forcefully as though I were her errant child. I didn’t say anything back, and handed Alvarez my headset.

The Specialist took the reins, guiding the flight lead as I had done before. “Breaker 11 that should be it. You’re cleared to fire as soon as you hit angels 32.“

And as before, the pilot called in his shot as he reached the requested height. “BREAKER 11, FOX 5!” We could hear through the speakers in our control room. I checked the time again. It was 1929 hrs. Good. I thought to myself, though I still couldn’t figure out why. The missile detached its first stage at the correct altitude this time. As it was designed to do, the second stage ignited and boosted the weapon into the necessary velocity for the rotors to take over. The tip jets guided the Killer Umbrella towards our anomalous hostage taker. We watched on the big screen as it tracked the kill vehicle’s jaunt to the object’s position near New America. I fixated my eyes on the feed we were still receiving from the surveillance satellite that had it in view. Just what was it? I looked back at the time on my desktop. 1935 hrs. I felt relieved somehow. But again, I didn’t know why exactly. Just as I took a sigh of relief, Alvarez spoke up.

“The rod! It got rid of it!“ She screamed.

Indeed, the monster loosened whatever invisible grip it had on the piece of tungsten and it floated away back towards New America. It wasn’t threatening us any more, thank God. But we were still threatening it. “We’re not giving up this kill. That thing tried to fire at us. Continue with the trajectory Specialist.” The commander ordered.

“Yes Sir.” Alvarez responded. “Second stage kill vehicle is within range, icing tip jets. I’m going to go for a direct strike with this one. 3...2...1... Out. Tip jets deactivated. We’re still on the money, one more minute to kill.” Alvarez had obviously paid attention this morning in Counterspace Academics. I was proud of her, as was everyone else in the room. Captain Hayek beamed at her, while giving me the cold shoulder. A cold shoulder I suppose I deserved. But then everyone’s joy at Alvarez’s accomplishment quickly dissipated with what we saw happen on screen. The object... was back behind one of the hollowed out asteroids of New America. It just suddenly wasn’t where it was. The remaining Shenlong however, not so much. The missile was less than 15 seconds out now.

The commander interjected “Fire the tip jets! Reorient! Move it out of the fucking way!”

Alvarez panicked, cracking her voice “I-I can’t Sir! It’s not accepting the signal! I can’t move it! It’s going to hit!” She was beginning to tear up.

The missile impacted the underside of the Shenlong with its rotors, veering off from it and being forced by its kinetic energy into the side of one of New America‘s asteroid habitats - shattering the weapon to pieces and obliterating several facilities constructed along the front end of the settlement. Everyone stood up out of our chairs, a few wincing and others letting out desperate screams as the impact happened before their very eyes. It was over. We had failed. Whatever that thing was, had bested us. I tried to console Alvarez, but she didn’t trust me anymore and rejected any effort I made to let her know it wasn’t her fault. I looked over at Captain Hayek. She just stared at me, not saying anything, and walked away. The NCOIC grabbed me by the shoulder as I sat back down and informed me that my actions from today would likely be investigated by a third party and that I should probably start getting in contact with JAG. Not only had I sacrificed the trust my apprentice had in me, but it seems as though I sacrificed my entire career for this thing. How am I going to be able to take care of Jerry now? I thought to myself. That’s when I remembered that I had left him in the truck outside.

I got outside to check on him. It was just after dusk now. He was gone. With his broken skateboard, and my wallet. “Jerry, I’m sorry.“ I said to myself out loud, and hung my head over the open window on the passenger side. “I’m so sorry.” I heard some foot steps from behind and turned around. It was Captain Hayek and Color Sergeant Hayek-Song, exiting the building and walking towards their car. As I watched them pull out of their parking space, someone tapped me on the shoulder from behind. I turned and saw three men in plain clothes, one of them sporting an Air Force Office of Special Investigations badge.

“Hi there Sergeant. I’m Agent Williamson. These two men are with the National Scientific Intelligence Administration. They have a few questions about the day’s events. As do I.” The Agent explained.

Before I could respond, the one with balding grey hair and wearing a white dress shirt pointed at Captain Hayek’s car as it turned down the street and drove away. He said, “And if you could, I’d like to know exactly everything you saw those two do the entire time they were here. Especially those two.”

I'm a member of the President's new space force, here's what I've seen so far