#just helped fold some stuff up and pulled staples out of the tables

[cantankerouscatfish]

floral shop manager, now that the decor has been taken down: CHRISTMAS! IS! OVER!!! me: yay! forever? 🥺 manager: 'til November. me: aw.

[tumbleassbitch]

another lost soul (letting my instinct take control) | The Quarry | TravisxLaura

Characters: Laura Kearney, Travis Hackett, The Hackett family Summary: Max dies in the cellar. This changes everything. Chapter 6/? | Chapter 5

July 7th, 2022

Laura can’t help but grin at the sound of the door opening with a resounding clack. It’s her first full afternoon of freedom.

Travis appears like a reluctant phantom, clearly unimpressed in the face of her self-satisfied smirk. He gestures her forward with two fingers, and she places her wrists through the gap obediently. 

Handcuffs are officially on. For now.

“Don’t get cocky,” he mutters. “It ain't cute.”

“Sure,” she replies, but doesn’t make any effort to tamper it down.

It’s a bit later in the afternoon, but it must still be enough time for them to settle into some facade of ‘work’ for when Kaylee shows up. Except, instead of taking her to a records room or wherever the case files would be located…

…she’s brought back to the dusty old conference room from the evening prior.

“What’s this?” she asks dumbly, staring at the cleaning supplies laid out on the table.

“It’s your internship,” he says dryly, uncuffing her. “Happy trails.”

“You’ve got to be fucking…” she starts, trailing off as the door slams shut behind her.

Seriously? She bites back a scream of frustration, clenching her fists until it hits her.

He didn’t lock it. 

Technically, she can get out, and that has to mean something. But, taking in the bare and abandoned room, it’s clearly one cell traded for another. 

Maybe… maybe this is some kind of test?

Maybe he’s on the other side of the door waiting for her to try the handle. Waiting for her to give him a reason to stuff her back downstairs, or worse; put her in a dark hole where no one else but him knows she’s there. The thought opens up endless possibilities, none of them pleasant.

But he doesn’t seem the type. 

The thought is quiet, almost embarrassed in its assumption. Sure, he’s illegally imprisoned her and argued relentlessly, obstinately denying every olive branch she, his prisoner, has offered thus far, but… he wouldn’t do that.

…Right? 

It’s another reminder of the truly precarious situation that she’s in. Assumptions get people killed.

Tomorrow, she decides. If he pulls the same shit again, she’s taking any opportunity to just get out and do the werewolf hunt on her own. But if he wants to play the petty route today, then that’s on him. 

Laura snatches up one of the folded rags on the conference table and gets to work. Mostly, there's miscellaneous office supplies, another coffee pot, stacks of printing paper; things that are practically staples of any workspace. It’s a saving grace that none of the cupboards hold rotting food.

The fridge is painfully bare, save for a six pack of beer and old condiments in the door. She grabs a beer and moves on.

In the next hour or so, every surface within reason is swiped and polished, and the corners are dusted free of cobwebs. Short of actually digging out the cupboards and tossing out the old shit, she’d say it actually looks halfway decent.

The door cracks open, and a friendly face peers in.

“Hey!” Kaylee greets cheerfully, waving a gaudy pink lanyard littered with cartoon cats and pizza. 

“Hi,” Laura replies with about half of the enthusiasm. 

Kaylee opens the door wider, looking suddenly at a loss. “I just wanted to pop in and say hi! I know you’re really busy, but I… uh. Thought I’d say hi.” The girl cringes self-deprecatingly, but it morphs into a hopeful grin. 

It’s endearing, if awkward, and the part of her that’s always melted at pitiful and helpless animals immediately takes the reins from her current bad attitude.

“Well, hi,” she says with a small chuckle, mustering up an energy she doesn’t quite feel. “Nice to see you stopped by.”

Travis appears then, looming over Kaylee’s shoulder with an annoyingly smug look. Little does he know, she’s been spraying bleach on the carpet behind the fridge for the last ten minutes.

“I had to drop by for the birthday boy,” Kaylee says slyly. Travis’ shit-eating grin- which is barely anything on a normal person’s face- instantly evaporates in the heat of the sun that is his niece.

“Oh-ho!” Laura outright snickers. “Did ‘birthday boy’ have a special day?”

“Well, I hope so,” Kaylee says, a strange note to her voice. “Because all he’s done is spend it at work.”

Laura tilts her hip to one side, folding her arms. “You know how he is,” she says with a grin that shows a bit too many teeth. “Total workaholic.”

Kaylee laughs lightly, but the glances she gives between the two of them don’t go unnoticed. A brief look of alarm, the same one that’s bubbling in her, flits across Travis’ face. 

Does she really suspect something? They aren’t exactly Hollywood actors, but it’s barely been twenty-four hours, for fuck’s sake. They can’t be that pathetic at holding secrets.

Kaylee breaks the short silence first. “Sorry, but I have to cut it short,” she says, looking a little sheepish. “I told Caleb I’d help him with his car.”

“I thought Bobby was working on that-?” Travis starts to say, honest confusion on his brow, but she slides past him in the doorway.

“You know how it is,” she tosses back, then twists around abruptly. “Almost forgot!” she exclaims, giving a loud smooch to his temple. He blinks. “Love you, T. Have fun tonight!”

She vanishes in a flurry of hair and jingling car keys, and Laura and Travis remain stuck in their places, staring at each other in mirroring looks of bewilderment.

Laura folds her arms. “July birthday, huh?”

“Impressive detective work, Sherlock” he replies drily. He waits for the sounds of footfall to fade before adding, “Put your hands against the wall.”

“Seriously?” she asks, derision practically dripping off her tongue. After getting her hopes up in thinking that he’d actually be willing to work with her, now he wants to pat her down like she’s smuggling coffee filters in her back pocket?

“Can we just-” he cuts himself short, then visibly gathers his patience. “I have places to be, and I’d really appreciate it if you’d just work with me here.”

“What? Running late for ‘birthday beers’ with the bros?” she asks with a sneer. 

He gets oddly shifty-eyed, and belatedly, she realizes that’s exactly what he’s doing. Typical. “Must be nice to still have a social life,” she mutters under her breath.

“Do you want your dinner now, or after I get back?” he deadpans.

He’d definitely be the kind of person to wake her up at midnight for cold spaghetti. She rolls her eyes and turns around. The hairs on the back of her neck prickle when he draws near. 

"Are you ready?" he asks, a soft edge of hesitation to his usually gruff voice.

Her hackles raise at the insinuation. "I'm not made of glass, dipshit."

"Never said you were," is his easy reply. And then his hands are on her body, brisk and professional as any cop. It doesn’t last long.

"Okay," he says, stepping out of her space. "Let’s get you in for the night."

She waits for him to cuff her, but he takes her by the arm instead, leading her down the stairs. 

"So, like… What was the point of all that?" she finally grits out. "All that talk about your family, doing this alone, 'working together.' All of that was just bullshit?"

He fixes her an odd look. "You serious right now?" At her silence, he scoffs. "I'll be damned. You really think Kaylee wouldn't notice a fucking werewolf photo from a security camera? Or- or statements mentioning a ‘strange animal’ out in the woods on a fucking full moon?”

“You’re talking as if I’d show her-”

He pivots on his heel, fixing her with an incredulous, slightly unhinged look. “Laura, they turn into fucking demons! Even as humans, they hear, smell, see better than us on any other day of the month! You really think they’re just like you and me?!”

“I don’t fucking know, Travis!”

“You’re goddamn right you don’t know-!”

“Because you obviously didn’t disclose that, did you?!”

He huffs a breath, looking entirely too unruffled despite the momentary loss of composure, and continues to drag her along the halls. They’re near the holding cells when he finally speaks up again. 

“I’m trying to help you. Help us.” When she doesn’t say anything, he exhales a long breath. “I know… it don’t seem like it from your point of view, but I’m trying.”

Travis opens the cell door and she walks in without a fight, meek and silent and dumb as fuck for ever trusting a single word out of his mouth. 

It’s just so stupid— she’s gullible, plain and simple. If someone told her a month ago that she’d try winning over some insane middle-aged man in a jail break attempt so that she could avenge her dead boyfriend, well. She’d laugh in their face.

Because this isn’t her. The Laura she always thought she was has nothing to lose—short of someone else’s life riding on her conscience, she’d be hightailing it out of this shithole and carving her own path from here. 

But that isn’t exactly an option right now, is it? Because try as she may to deny it, she needs someone like Travis to get her on Silas’ tracks. Someone with more experience, more years of hunting werewolves and learning the real-life lore, not the fairy tales and wolf biology he’d been bringing her all week.

She wants to scream. She wants to dig that rusty spoon into the wall and crank out every last brick so that by the time Travis brings her breakfast tomorrow morning, she can use them to bash his skull in.

So stupid, you’re better than this, smarter than this-

Travis extends a nondescript orange envelope through the bars.

Laura eyes it as if it’s a snake. “What’s this?”

“Homework,” he drawls. He shakes it impatiently, and Laura scowls, snatching it from his fingers. Inside is a stack of documents.

They have the official police department emblem in the upper corner, some looking obviously photocopied and slightly crooked in orientation to the page. At first glance, it’s a mix of witness statements and typed out reports that date back several years.

But as she’s shuffling through, there’s more. Grainy photos, what look like screenshots from game cams. Cryptic blurs streaking through the foliage. A case file on a wildfire from six years ago.

“I told you I’m trying,” he says quietly, and takes his leave.

.

July 8th, 2022

“Silas Vorez…” she mutters aloud.

The only photos they have of him are disturbing screenshots from random social media accounts, likely from tourists who were able to catch the show as it hopped from place to place.

He’s not as young as she’d figure he’d be, given the moniker “Boy.” In fact, Laura wouldn’t be surprised if the man weren’t in his early 30’s. He’s scrawny, with skin so pale it’s almost as translucent as moonlight.

The unfiltered fear in his eyes is what gives her a pause. He looks pathetic. 

And yet, this is the man who killed Max. 

Despite the other files to review, Laura keeps coming back to the pictures, burning his pink-tinted eyes into her memory. It’s a face she’ll never forget.

She sets the photos aside, returning her attention back to his only recorded kin. Eliza Vorez. Her name doesn’t feel safe to utter aloud. There’s no real logic to it, Laura knows that, but something about her stare suggests a certain danger that isn’t of this world.

She didn’t get the same feeling from the Harum Scarum poster, which she nows knows had her face front and center. But this, someone’s heavily-filtered Instagram photo of Eliza leaning out from behind Silas’ cage… 

It isn’t right. That’s the thought behind the raised bumps on her skin. It just isn’t right.

“What do you think so far?”

Travis’ voice causes her to jump. His eyes narrow at the movement, and she pushes down her embarrassment with a scowl.

“You need to be more specific.”

He shoots her an unimpressed look. “What else? The case files I gave you yesterday.”

She sighs, frustrated with herself and him. “I don’t have anything worth mentioning yet.”

“That’s fine. Give me your first thoughts,” he says undeterred.

Laura shrugs, shaking her head slowly. “I guess… Silas has been way busier than I expected. I mean, the full moon only happens once a month. To cause that amount of damage in… I don't know, roughly twelve hours? It’s a lot.”

“For a werewolf?”

“No, I mean, that’s a lot for one werewolf. I’m not exactly an expert in supernatural creatures, but you’d think that if one werewolf could cause this much damage in one night, more people would know about them, y’know? It wouldn’t be this cryptid that only exists in fairy tales.”

“I’ve always suspected there has to be more,” he concedes, scanning the room with a distant look. “We don’t know who all he’s bitten, but we haven’t found another one unaccounted for in this area, at least…”

“That you know of,” she points out. 

He nods. “True.”

“And isn’t that weird? How is no one else looking?”

Travis tilts his head to the side, fixing her with a dead stare. “You forget that there’s people out there covering their tracks for them.”

The Hacketts cover their footprints, and the bodies, if there are any. If they’re thorough enough in their coverups, then there’s a damn good chance that no one else is actually looking. Or if they are… If they’re cursed, then they think they’re alone.

“Okay, so… How many did you say are locked up by your family each month?”

“Three.”

She slowly nods. “And they were all bitten by Silas?”

He purses his lips, obviously uncomfortable with this line of questioning. “Yeah, same night.”

“Shit,” she hisses. “Okay, so maybe this amount of… casualties isn’t out of the norm. But every month, we run the risk of him actually creating more, rather than killing them.” 

Like Max, her mind finishes. He raises his brows as if to say, No shit, and she rolls her eyes. 

“I’m just thinking out loud, here.”

Travis shuts his eyes with a nod, raising a hand concedingly. “I see your point. I’m not… this ain’t my typical thing.”

“What?” she asks with a scoff. “Politeness?”

“Working with a partner,” he answers quietly. The words settle between them, and something like softness graces his usually worn face. He shifts on his feet before unlocking the cell. “It’s time.”

“Oh,” she says.

“It’s almost three o’clock,” he says with a pointed look. “Kaylee’s coming any minute, so get your ass up and let’s move.”

“Jeez, alright,” she says, and he gestures her forward. “You know, you should really use your words more.”

“You should use yours less,” he grunts back.

.

July 9th, 2022

It’s lunchtime on a Saturday, so color her surprised when he shows up empty handed.

“What’s this?” she asks, standing up.

Travis pauses in the middle of unclipping the handcuffs from his belt. “I- uh… I figured you were hungry?”

“Yeah…?”

His stare goes way over her shoulder. “... and you mentioned before that you wanted company?”

Oh. She did say that.

I need people. I need to get out of my cage.

“Yeah. I did,” she says dumbly.

His nod toes the line between exasperated and self-deprecating, but he still unlocks the door. If her smile is a little too wide, he doesn’t give her a hard time about it. 

She’ll never get tired of leaving her cell. The sensation of leaving the lonely hallway for, what’s essentially a modern-day catacomb, is paramount to euphoria. If that isn’t a sign that her brain is starting to get a little fucked up, well. What can a girl do?

Her heart rate spikes when he takes her up a familiar set of marble steps, locking the heavy wooden door behind them from the inside. Travis uncuffs her and gestures for her to take a seat.

The closet she hid in over a week ago immediately catches her eye, and she resolutely looks elsewhere. Two sad looking sandwiches and a bowl of cut veggies are on display. He’s already set out a glass of orange juice for her.

“Cool. Thanks,” she comments awkwardly. The thought of bare legs and blood- ugh, think of anything else, please- makes her stomach do flips.

They tuck in without fanfare. It only occurs to her now that she’s never seen him eat. The scant amount of times he’s joined her for meals, it’s always been booze or nothing.

Here, he chews mechanically, each bite a thoughtful attack into ham and cheese. It’s efficiency in its most carnal form, and he finishes his sandwich before she’s even halfway through with her own.

"Why does it go after humans?" Laura blurts.

Travis frowns thoughtfully, and she takes that as an invitation to continue.

"I mean, there's so many animals out here that the hassle of chasing down a person wouldn't seem worth it. I thought our own defense was that we tasted bad?"

"Not to them," he comments wryly. "Maybe it's because they are— or used to be—human themselves? Trying to reclaim their humanity through consumption."

"Maybe," she trails off. "Maybe human bodies give them more energy than animals? Or, if they're able to consume human flesh, that's important for the werewolf curse?"

His brows furrow in thought. "I don't know about that… Kaylee hasn't eaten someone in years, and she's still cursed."

Holy shit to that information. Laura swallows it with hopefully cool indifference. 

"Well, it's a thought. Maybe it doesn't matter for those that were bit, but if the alpha—um, Silas—was prevented from eating someone, it could weaken him?” 

“...Or maybe it's born out of pack desire,” he says thoughtfully. “Survival-of-the-fittest. Anyone who's able to survive an attack is seen as worthy to join the ranks."

His pocket buzzes, and with a spare glance her way, he checks the screen.

“Shit,” he mutters.

“What is it?”

It’s obvious his first impulse is to ignore her, and he visibly wrestles with himself before settling with a pained grimace.

“It’s Kaylee.”

“Um… is she okay?” she asks, biting down the urge to add, Use your words, Travis.

“Yes, she’s fine. But she’s here.” 

Why anyone would want to hang around this dusty place on a Saturday, she has no idea. Travis shoots to his feet, sternly pointing at her. “Stay.” 

“That was unnecessary!” she calls at his retreating back. With him gone, she scans the room with a new sense of wariness.

The phone on his desk is missing, of course, but it doesn’t matter. If what happened last time— 

screams, the static translation of flesh ripping under teeth

—she’s not interested in making a call.

Instead, a picture frame sitting off to the side catches her eye. The photo must be at least two decades old: a much-younger Travis stands with his arms clasped behind his back, chest puffed. Beside him is an older man with an arm over his shoulder, grinning proudly.

She hates to admit it, but he’s… handsome. Round glasses that would be otherwise nerdy on another man’s face instead offer a sweet, boy-next-door vibe that’s honestly her type. 

And that revelation makes her wince, because, ugh. There’s a thick, solid line between working with the man that kidnapped her, and drawing parallels between him and her exes.

It’s a time capsule in more ways than one. The man in this polaroid past is nothing like the phantom that stalks the precinct. When was the last time Travis smiled like this?

“Hey, girl.”

Kaylee drags a chair over to join her at Travis’ desk, and though she barely knows her, it’s obvious something’s up.

The girl has been nothing but a ray of sunshine, despite being in the armpit of a police station, and Laura has the impression that it’s a part of who she is. Sunshine and daisies— the polar opposite of her uncle.

So, whatever managed to dampen her smile must’ve been pretty bad. Kaylee doesn’t deserve that. She’s good, and sweet, and unhappiness doesn’t suit her.

‘She’s also a murderer.’

It’s that same quiet voice from before, not quite her own, yet clearly in her head. 

‘She’s a hungry, brutal mockery of a beast. A waste of shit and skin.’

Fuck. She’s losing her mind. 

“I’m so happy to see you today!” Laura says with a blinding grin. “How’s your painting coming along?”

Kaylee perks up a bit, chuckling shyly while she pulls out supplies from her dark canvas bag. “It’s really nothing special, just some practicing with colors.”

She lays out a stained cover with reverent hands, then plants a little wooden stand that’s brindled with paint splatters and mounts the canvas with gentle care. 

It is, to be frank, beautiful. 

Laura’s known her fair share of ‘artists’ throughout high school and college, but Kaylee actually is one. 

The scene is full of vibrant blues and softer hues for the sky. Sharp rocks and cutting white-capped waves are at the forefront, but in the distance is a schooner sailing easily over the violence below. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen the ocean,” Kaylee says when Laura says nothing. “I wish I could travel more, you know. Get out and see the world for once, instead of watching it pass me by on the internet. But, when I get a hankerin’, I’ll just bring a piece of it back to me instead.”

“Kaylee, this is amazing,” she breathes. The girl blushes, opening her mouth to undoubtedly play it off but Laura speaks over her. “No, I’m dead serious. You could put this in a museum and tell me da Vinci painted this, and I’d believe it in a heartbeat.”

“Really?” she says quietly, and there’s so much vulnerability on her face that Laura grabs her hand and squeezes it emphatically.

“Yes, absolutely! Let me know when you set up your art gallery, and I’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

“Well, shit,” Kaylee giggles wetly, discreetly swiping at an eye. “I’ll give you the damn thing when I’m done with it.”

“Hell no,” Laura says. “I’d buy it if I actually had any money, but you could honestly sell this.”

“I know,” she says bashfully, but there’s a hint of pride there, too. “I want to give it to you anyways.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but Kaylee speaks over her. “How’ve you been? You have to work on the weekend, too?” 

Over Kaylee’s shoulder, Travis raises the bucket of cleaning supplies with the air of a man who often doesn’t win. In other words, entirely too pleased with himself. 

Fuck. “You could say that,” Laura drawls.

Kaylee snorts. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Long week, am I right?”

“It’s just about over,” Travis says lightly, pulling out a misty beer bottle from the minifridge and setting the cleaning bucket at her feet. “Tomorrow’s a fresh start.”

“Yeah, but you know how camp is,” Kaylee says with a huff that doesn’t carry much heat. “It’s not like I have the weekends off.”

Kaylee’s already started filling her paint tray with an array of mossy greens and sea blues, a new life breathed into her disposition.

“What do you call today?” he throws back. The light humor in his voice makes him sound younger. His dark eyes appraise her, and she belatedly realizes she’s been staring. 

“Drinking on the job, boss?” Laura asks sweetly.

Travis takes a swig of his beer, pointedly looking at his phone. A game of solitaire—go figure—is already loaded up.

She grabs the bucket.

The three of them settle into a silence that isn’t actually unpleasant, though it's still weighted with unspoken words and secretive glances. 

It’s a grating feeling, like someone’s boring holes in the back of her head from across the street. Laura can’t help but overlay pink eyes with blue, wispy strands of hair with thick auburn. Two of the same beast, each with different sins.

The quiet gives her a chance to reflect. Between the sly quips Kaylee flings at Travis, or the fond look in his eye while she’s too focused on her painting to notice, she can almost pretend that things are normal. 

[softboywriting]

Fight For You | Part 1

Summary: Your whole adult life you’ve dated mixed martial arts fighters, it comes naturally with working and living in and around the fighting circuits. After a fallout with your now ex-boyfriend you find a new place to start a new life where you find someone who is willing to fight for you as much as you are for him. Will you be able to build something beautiful or will your past come back to haunt you? [fighting] [asshole ex]

Word Count: 13k

Authors Note:  None of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics on any platform.

|Masterlist In Bio|

Moving to a new town in a new state is a fresh start for you. After a rough year dealing with an asshole boyfriend, leaving said boyfriend and losing your job, you have to find a new place in life. The world is a clean slate for you and Red Lake is where you’re ready to put down some roots and start over. Your best friend Jodi and her wife live there and they’re the closest thing to a real family you have left so choosing Red Lake was a no brainer.

"So, how's the apartment?" Jodi asks as she unlocks the back door of the gym where she works. Her wife Harlow is the owner and a former female MMA fighter. "It's not too shitty I hope."

"Oh I didn't get the apartment. I got the house on Garden Plaza. The one Harlow said her friend was renting out."

"Oh yeah! Fuck, I totally forgot." Jodi holds the door open for you and you wander into the back storage room. It's full of old mats and various pieces of equipment in need of repair. "When does the truck arrive with your stuff?"

"This week. The drivers said tomorrow but I'm not counting on it."

Jodi pushes open the door to the main hallway to the gym floor and nearly smacks into someone. "Holy shit!" She leans on the door and you step forward to see who she hit or just got scared by.

"Are you okay?" A voice says from beyond the door and a head pops out. "Sorry Jodi."

"God! Why are you here so early!" Jodi asks, ushering you out into the hall. She closes the door and you see a guy in a fitted black shirt and a pair of grey sweats standing behind the door. He's oddly familiar.

"Harlow asked me to come in and...wipe down the mats." The guy stares at you and you stare back. You know him. Those chocolate curls, soft eyes, and sharp jawline are unmistakably familiar. You just can't put your finger on it.

Jodi waves her hand in front of his face. "Shawn? Earth to Shawnie boy!"

Shawn Pierce. Shit, yeah it's coming back to you. Tate trained with him about a year ago when he was trying to get into the western region MMA championship circuit. You were never properly introduced but you did talk a few times. Tate didn't bring you by the gym a lot, he claimed you distracted him.

"You're Tate Greyson's girlfriend right?"

"Ex." Jodi snorts and you shove her shoulder. Shawn raises his eyebrows.

"I was, yes. We're not together anymore." You chuckle and shake your head. "Not that we were ever that together in the first place."

Shawn narrows his eyes at you and you shift uncomfortably. "Did he hit you?"

"What?" Your eyes go wide.

"The bruise on your collarbone."

Jodi leans in and pulls your shirt aside a little bit. "Oh shit, what happened?"

Suddenly you remember the bruise in question. You had fallen off the step ladder in your apartment back home while taking down your plant hangers. "I fell while packing up my apartment." You pull your shirt back to show Jodi more of the yellowing bruise. "I swear Tate never hit me. It's been months since I've seen him."

"Oh thank God." Jodi sighs and pulls out her keys. "I'd kill him myself if he touched you."

Shawn steps back and rubs his neck awkwardly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed anything."

You lean against the wall as Jodi walks up the stairs to her office door. "No, it's fine. Tate is a bit of a loose cannon, but he never hit me."

"Yeah, he was a tough one." Shawn folds his arms, stretching the tee across his chest and you can't help but stare. He shakes his head. "He never did like to listen, always just wanted to swing hard and fast, no finesse."

"Should have seen him in bed. Same tactic."

Shawn's eyes widen and you realize you didn't really need to tell him that. You flush and he just laughs. "Man he must have pissed you off if you're out here dragging him like this."

"Yeah he did." You roll your eyes at the thought of Tate. Everything he did pissed you off. Silence falls between the two of you and you push off the wall. "I'll see you around?"

"I'm here just about every day." He puts his hand out for you awkwardly and you take it, giving an oddly formal shake. "Are you going to be here a lot?"

"Dunno. I got a job at Dixie's down the street but I work nights. So I might come around a bit."

Shawn drops your hand and runs his hand over his hair. "A waitress?"

"Bartender." You smirk and he grins. "You can stop by, I make a good gin and tonic. I'm allowed discounts for family and friends."

"I'm a friend then, eh?"

"Oh I'm sure you'll be a friend." You look him over and bite your lip. "Maybe more."

Shawn grins and you can't miss the pink that spreads across his cheeks. "You're bold. I like that." He steps back and turns to go out to the main floor. "I should get back to those mats now."

"Mmmhmm." You wave him off. "See ya."

Jodi clicks her tongue and you steps out of her office. "You are so predictable." She says from the top of the stairs.

You jog up to meet her and give her a look. "What? Because I think he's hot?"

"No, because he's a fighter." Jodi rolls her eyes and sinks into her chair as you follow her into the large room. "You only date fighters."

"Says the woman who married one!"

"Hey, I don't count. Harlow is the only fighter I ever dated and I didn't even know she was a fighter when we started going out."

You roll your eyes. "Whatever. So I got a type. Whoopty do."

"At least Shawn's a good one."

"You saying I have poor taste?"

Jodi picks up a few large envelopes and stares at you over them. "You're joking right? Tate? Remember that hot garbage of a few months ago?"

"Yeah but Chase before him wasn't garbage."

"Chase was a two month fling while you worked the circuit with me. Was he ever anything?"

You flop down onto the couch under the window that overlooks the gym. "I guess not. So what, Shawn's a fighter and I like fighters. Maybe he'll be a keeper."

"Ex fighter."

"Hmm?"

"Shawn's an ex fighter." Jodi types aways at her computer and you wait for her to continue. "He doesn't fight anymore. What?"

"He doesn't? Why? He looked healthy."

"Personal choice. Harlow has been trying to book him on the circuit for years. He keeps in shape and trains other fighters for Harlow but he's not getting in that ring for anything. It's a shame, he was a two time champion."

You look out the window to where Shawn is running along the mats on the far side of the gym with a towel. You wonder what made him stop competing. A guy like him could take out anyone his weight. No doubt. You'd seen him spare with Tate once when he trained with him. Shawn has the skill, what would drive him to waste it?

_____________________

Dixie's is a hole in the wall kind of place. Definitely a local spot and everyone in town goes there. It's a bar and restaurant that serves your classic American staples, burgers, fries, steak and sandwiches. Nothing fancy, but the food is good and homemade. The day time crowd at Dixie's is mostly families, regular customers on their lunch breaks or afternoon meetups, occasionally a truck driver or two since it's on the edge of the town. The night time crowd at Dixie's is much different, very adult orientated. They didn't let kids in after eight since that's when most of the drunks and party goers start showing up. Most people know to avoid Dixie's for a late dinner lest you be caught up in a fight or have to listen to some guy babble on about the good ole days for four hours.

You work the night shift at the bar. You don't mind, you tended places much worse. Hell, you lived in Vegas for a year after graduation and that's where you learned to bartend. When you're raised in hell, the rest of the world doesn't seem so bad.

"Hey! You made it!" Carrie says from the door to the kitchen. "I was worried you wouldn't come back after last week."

"What? Greg? Please, I've dealt with a lot worse then having a drink thrown at me and being called a raging bitch." You place your purse under the counter behind the bar in a little safe. Carrie didn't fuck around when it came to safety and personal belongings in her bar.

"Oh thank God. Greg is an asshole but if you made it through the night with him I think you'll be alright."

"I worked in Vegas, Carrie." You grab your apron off the wall beside her. "I've seen shit. Greg, ain't shit."

Carrie looks incredibly relieved. "I've had four bartenders walk out because of him."

"Yeah, well, they weren't me." You wave to one of the waitresses, Sammy, coming in for her shift. The two of you hit it off really well last week so you're excited to work with her tonight."Besides, I'd like to stick around."

Carrie pushes open the kitchen door and you follow her in. "Oh yeah? Find a love interest?"

"I don't think I'd call him that yet. But I'm definitely interested." You grab a few plates off the warming table to help Carrie serve them. "We've met before."

"Oh wow, coincidence huh? You just moved here right?"

"Yeah. It's so weird, but he's a fighter who trained with my ex boyfriend a year ago. I guess I'm bound to meet people from the same circuit."

Carrie chuckles and leads the way with her arms full of plates. "You like those fighters huh? We got a lot of those type around here."

"I do." You fall silent as you help Carrie serve the large group of middle aged people at the front of the seating area. As soon as you're done Carrie walks with you to the bar.

"Anyway, those fighters are always coming in here. I don't mind the business of course, they eat a lot. But some of them also drink alot and bar fights between fighters is a nightmare."

"Don't worry, I can handle them." You wipe out some glasses on the drying station and Carrie starts going through the liquor stock to see what she needs to bring out of the back for the night. "I swear, I'm sticking around."

Carrie pauses and looks over at you. "You seem pretty set on it."

"Yeah, I am. Things are good here. I have my own place, I'm near my best friend, there's a hot fighter who I wanna get to know. It's good. A fresh start."

"I'm happy for you dear." Her hand comes down on your shoulder and you look over at her. She's smiling, her big round glasses sitting too low on her nose. She blows a stray curl out of her face and pats your shoulder a few times. "You're a good kid."

"I try to be." You chuckle. "Anyway, looks like it's kicking off early tonight." You point at a group of guys who have just walked in, some fighters by the looks of them. Out of circuit fighters, the kind who drink too much and let their bodies get weakened by alcohol. You scoff to yourself. Frat boys with too many muscles and big dreams but no dedication. A bunch of Tate Greysons'. It's gonna be a long night.

___________________

"Pierce! Focus!" Harlow yells from the office doorway at the top of the stairs. Shawn is standing in the ring with his client for the day but he keeps looking over at you where you're talking to Jodi near the bathrooms.

You look over and bite your lip, knowing you got him in trouble. "Anyways, as I was saying," you turn back to Jodi and she's grinning. "What?"

"Harlow is gonna kick his ass if he doesn't stop gawking at you." She looks up at her wife through the window and she's pacing the office, watching Shawn like a hawk. "You're quite a distraction."

"I don't mean to be. I'm just standing here for fucks sake." You gesture to your jeans and plain tee shirt. "I'm not even dressed up!"

Jodi laughs. "Shawn's just soft, he's got your attention and he doesn't want to lose it. I don't know the last time he had a girlfriend."

"Really?" You look back. "A guy like him has been single for-" Shawn gets clocked in the head. "Oh shit."

Jodi sighs. "Moron."

You jog over to the ring and hold onto the cage, staring at Shawn on the ground. "Are you okay?!"

"Dude, you went down like a sack of bricks." The other fighter says, kneeling on one knee beside Shawn. "Dude?"

"Is he knocked out?" You ask, walking along the ring to climb the stairs at the open entryway. "Shawn?"

"I haven't been hit that hard in years." Shawn groans, eyes closed. "Good left hook, Connor."

"Thanks, but for real are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Shawn sits up and holds his head. "Y'know no matter how many fights you're in, and how much training you do, getting hit hurts worse when you're not expecting it."

"Getting hit hurts in general." You laugh and help him up on his feet. "And you would have expected it if you weren't staring at me."  

Connor snickers.

"I was not staring." Shawn stretches his arms and shakes off the hit.

"Yeah? Why'd you get hit then?"

"We're sparing."

"Uh huh." You look to Connor. "Did he seem distracted?"

"Very."

"Mmm thought so." You turn and walk out of the cage with a glance back with a small smile.

Shawn calls out to you as you cross the gym floor. "Wait, what's that supposed to mean?!"

"Stop staring at me and actually talk to me is what it means!" You laugh and meet up with Jodi outside the office. "God he's ridiculous."

"He hasn't asked you out yet?"

"No! It's been a week since we met. He just stares at me when I'm here and occasionally says no more than four words to me." You glance over and Shawn and Connor have changed positions so Shawn is with his back to you. "I think he's shy."

"Shawn? Nah. He's sweet, always has been. I think he's just cautious because he knows you just got out of a relationship, and one with a former trainee of his too. I'd be cautious."

"Well light a fire under his ass for me will you?"

Jodi gives you a thumbs up. "I'll get right on that boss. Matchmaker Jodi Price is on the case!"

"Oh shut up. Just talk to him?"

"I will." Jodi grabs her keys from Harlow as she steps out of the office. "We'll be back later honey."

"I'll pick up dinner." Harlow looks out at Connor and Shawn. "If I'm late it's because I've got two man-children to deal with."

"Easy on him. He's got feelings for our girl here."

Harlow rolls her eyes. "I don't pay him to have feelings."

"You're such a hardass, Harlow." You laugh and she smirks. "I promise I'll try not to stop in too much when he's training Connor."

"Yeah yeah." Harlow waves you off. "Get out of here, go have fun."

"Picking up furniture at Ikea isn't fun." Jodi says in annoyance.

"Mmhmm. Sure its not. Bye bye." Harlow walks toward the window to the gym floor and you wave goodbye.

"Come on." You put your arm around Jodi's shoulders. "Let's go build some skeptical furniture and relive the good ole days."

Jodi laughs. "Yeah, the good ole days of duct taped chair legs and book balanced tables. God I hope these Ikea things will be better than our crap back then."

"I'm sure it'll be fine."

_____________________

Building furniture is a nightmare. You and Jodi spend an hour putting together a dresser that you end up abandoning in favor of Chinese take out and a rerun of Chopped you hadn't seen before while sitting on the boxes for your nightstand and kitchen cart. You still have both of those items plus your bed frame to build. You'll get to it eventually.

Eventually leads to three days later and you still have the boxes propped against the wall of your living room where you and Jodi abandoned them after dinner. Every day you walk past them and think, maybe that day, but then you keep going. It's not until today, Friday, your day off, that you might actually get them built.

"Hey, what're you doing tonight?" Shawn asks as he steps down out of the cage. You've been watching him spar with one of the other trainers for an hour now after stopping by to help Jodi read over some paperwork for the gyms lease.

"Me?"

He grins. "Yeah, you."

"Building furniture for my house."

He chuckles and sinks into the chair next to you, observing two fighters now sparing on the mats nearby. "Sounds like a wild time."

"Oh it will be. I'll probably decide to get drunk halfway through and just say fuck it again." You laugh to yourself. "Drunk lonely furniture building on a Friday night. I've reached my peak at age twenty four."

"Need some help?" Shawn looks over and you raise your eyebrows. He is really making a move. Finally.

"You sure you don't have some floors to clean or something?" You ask, referencing the last time he tried to get out of your attempt to instigate a date. He is a weird one, definitely interested but hesitant for some reason. You get what Jodi said, about him being cautious because of your past with Tate but it's been almost five months. You're ready to move the fuck on. You gotta make it clear to this man you're ready.

Shawn smiles and looks away. "Okay, fair enough. Just call me out why don't you?"

"Yeah? You realize you've been dragging this out?"

"Yeah yeah. So can I come over?"

You grin and cross your arms. "I guess. What do you drink?"

"Tequila?" He says with a smirk as he starts unwrapping his hands.

"I'm not buying tequila. I don't know about you but tequila fucks me up and I will make some bad decisions."

"Me too, maybe we should go for it then."

"Absolutely not." You reach over and grab Shawn's hand as he picks at a piece of the fabric that's tucked too tightly under another. "How about we just start with some hard lemonade or something?"

Shawn smiles and closes his big hand over yours. "It's a date then?"

"Is it a date?"

"Could be."

"Let's just call it hanging out for now." You place the coiled up wad of wrapping fabric in Shawn's hand. "Now, I'm going to get lunch at Dixie's. You want something?"

"Nah, I brought lunch." Shawn looks over at the sitting area where Harlow has set up a refrigerator, a stand with a microwave and a few little tables with chairs. "Leftover chicken and rice."

You stand and Shawn stands with you. He flexes his hand a few times to work out the stiffness of it being bound too tight in the wrapping. You head for the office stairs to see if the ladies want lunch too. "I'll let you know when I'm heading home so you can follow me."

"Works for me."

"Oh, and don't wrap your hand so tight next time." You point at his hand. "You should know better."

Shawn grins sheepishly. "Maybe someone else should wrap it for me?"

"Maybe." You smile and he just grins.

_____________________

"Hey Jodi have you seen- oh." Shawn leans against the door as he looks between you and Jodi on the couch in the office. It's almost seven and you had completely lost track of time.

"Yeah?"

"Whatcha doing?"

Jodi holds her half wrapped hand up to show Shawn. "Teaching her to wrap."

Shawn smirks. "Your ex never taught you?"

"Tate didn't like having me around too much when he was fighting. He said I distracted him. So I didn't get to wrap his hands but once or twice."

"What a dick. Well I'm done cleaning up for the day, are you ready to go?"

Jodi raises her eyebrows. "Y'all have a date? And you didn't tell me?"

"It's not a date." You roll your eyes. "He's just going to help me with the furniture."

"So he's gonna be at your house with you alone?"

"Yes." You stand and Jodi unwinds her hand. "Now don't say another word missy." Jodi just snickers and you grab your purse. "Let's go Shawn."

An hour into furniture building and you're sure you're going to combust. Shawn is so big and thick, and close. He's in a pair of tight black jeans and a black tank top, having forgone his shirt almost as soon as you started working. He is just...he's too much. You thought Tate was big, you thought Tate was ripped and he was but not like Shawn. The way Shawn is built and the way he moves so fluidly is just...it's enough to stop your heart.

"Hey, hello?" He waves his hand in your face. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine?"

"Did you hear me?"

"Yeah?"

Shawn chuckles and leans back on his forearms. "What'd I say?"

"Hello?"

"Nope. I asked you if you wanted to get dinner."

"Oh." You push your hair back out of your face and look up at the clock over your kitchen table. "It's almost eight. Shit."

"So? Do you work tomorrow?"

"Yeah in the evening, but I didn't mean to keep you this late."

"It's not late?" Shawn laughs. "It's no big deal. I'm off tomorrow. I'll order something and we'll keep putting together this bed frame, sleeping on a mattress on the floor is bad for your back."

"Mmmhmm. Sure you don't just want to stay late to get me on this bed after we put it together?"

Shawn sits up, leans forward onto his hands and knees, face close to yours as he pushes himself up off the floor. "Oh I'll be much more upfront when I wanna do that." He pulls out his phone and you flush hot. "What sounds good? Pizza? Wings? Chinese?"

"Don't you need to eat healthy?"

"I do." He smiles over at you. "It's alright to indulge now and then."

"Oh."

"None of this is going away because I eat some pizza now and then." He gestures up and down himself. "I know that sounds incredibly pretentious but I worked hard for this strength. I'm having pizza." He puts the phone up to his ear and walks around the room aimlessly as it rings.

"Tate never wanted to get dinner. He said it'd ruin his diet." You stand and look around at the scattered pieces of the bed frame and your stomach rumbles loudly.

"Yeah because he was an idiot." Shawn says softly before answering the phone and placing an order for a medium taco pizza.

You raise your eyebrows and he grins. How did he happen to know your favorite pizza? There was no way he could have known or guessed. Taco pizza was not an every day order.

"Thank you bye." He pockets his phone. "Anyway Tate was obsessed with his eating habits. I remember sitting him down and explaining that he actually needs to eat real food and not protein shakes and supplements for every meal. He didn't ever listen though."

"Yeah he was an idiot, okay, but how did you know I like taco pizza?"

"Wild guess."

"Uh uh. Who told you?"

Shawn holds his hands up. "Honest to God, you want the truth?"

"Yeah. Who was it?"

"No one. Seriously, it was a wild guess. I like taco pizza and I noticed you have little taco magnets on the fridge and a taco pillow on your couch so I figured maybe you like them too. Seriously, it was a shot in the dark."

You stare at him slack jawed. He had been in your house for an hour and he noticed your taco magnets? That was...just so...weird? What else did he notice? You look around your room suddenly very self conscious of everything you have sitting on the dresser and nightstand. "I...I don't know what to say about that."

"About what?"

"About how observant you are."

"Oh. Should I not be?"

"N-no, I mean, it's fine? I've just never had someone pay attention to my stuff I guess."

Shawn chuckles and gets down on his knees to start taking the rest of the bed frame pieces from the box. You definitely don't miss how his ass is perfectly accentuated by the dip of his jeans. "Well, I like your place, it's interesting and cozy. Sorry if that's weird, I don't mean it to be."

"It's fine." You get down next to him, eyes still on his butt and he hands you a bag of screws. "It's just different. You're different." He leans forward to grab a bar from the frame and the way his back curves makes you want to grab his ass so bad. It's perfectly round and you just want to feel it so badly.

He glances over with a smile as he sits back on his knees. "Is that good?"

"W-what?" You feel a flush on your cheeks. Was he talking about your staring? Was he good? Because yes, a thousand times yes he was.

"Is it good that I'm different?"

"Oh! Yeah, very good." You smile and look down with a chuckle as you dump the bag of screws into a little Tupperware bowl he hands you that you've been using for small parts so nothing gets lost. "I like different."

"Me too." He grins and you meet his eyes. "Let's get this bed together so we can relax when the pizza gets here."

"Sounds like a plan."

_____________________

"Busy night?"

You look up from the back of the bar and see Shawn sitting a few seats down from you. He's smiling, hair pushed back looking like a damn angel in his white tee. The bar has been crowded for two hours now, a huge bachelor party of some sort taking up most of the space in the building. You and Sammy have been working double time to get food and drinks out as quick as possible. Big parties of guys meant big tips, keep them happy, keep that tip growing.

"Yeah." You glance over to the loud crowd nearby. "Bachelor party."

"I see. Must be fun?"

"For me or them?"

"Both?"

You chuckle and walk down to stand in front of him. "Is it fun making drinks? Yes. Is it fun watching a bunch of twenty some year olds get hammered while getting hit on by every one of them? Not so much."

Shawn waves off a drink offer as you gesture to the bar behind you. "I just came by to see how you were doing. You haven't been by the gym in a few days."

"Oh, you noticed." You lean back and smile. "I've been working doubles. Carrie has had a cold and I didn't want her to push herself. I'm a lot younger, I can't handle a few days of work."

Shawn cracks open a peanut from the bucket on the counter for customers. "You're a sweetheart." He grins and pops the peanut in his mouth. "Glad you're alright though."

"Did you think I was avoiding you?"

"Nah. Well, a little?" He chuckles and hangs his head. "Honestly I thought I fucked up the night we put together your bed."

You step forward and fold your arms on the counter in front of him. "I'd tell you if you fucked up. Trust me, you haven't done anything to put me off."

"Good. What do you say to lunch Wednesday?"

"I'd say I hope you like Dixie's pulled pork special because that's where I'll be."

"You work dayshift again?" He shakes his head.

"Yep. My last double."

"Okay, alright. I'll stop by?"

"I'd love it."

Shawn looks over at the party of guys getting loud again. "I'm gonna head out before that gets too wild. Stay safe honey."

"Bye Shawn." You roll your eyes at his ridiculous pet name and he waves as he heads out.

____________________

"How's Connor doing?" You ask as you watch the young fighter spar with one of the other guys while Shawn is taking a break in the office.  

"The kid is insane. He's fast, strong, smart too. He reminds me of myself when I was nineteen."

You look over and Shawn is tossing a stress ball up at the ceiling casually. "Connor is nineteen?"

"Yeah." He looks over with a grin. "Why? Thought he was cute?"

"Shawn! God, no. I'm just surprised Harlow took on a guy that young."

"I was too. I remember when Connor walked into this gym. He was a short little sixteen year old with no intention of doing anything but bulking up a bit."

"He didn't wanna be a fighter?"

"Nope." Shawn chuckles. "He came to take some HIIT classes and some CrossFit bullshit Harlow had let a trainer do for a few months. I think once he saw me and Mike in the ring he caught the bug."

You watch as Connor takes down his opponent, pinning him to the mat. Shawn's right, he is fast and strong for his size. His practice opponent is easily twenty pounds heavier than him and he is taking him down like it's nothing. "You think he's gonna make it to championship finals?"

"He going to make it to nationals if I have any say in it. He has what it takes, he's got the heart and soul of a fighter. You don't see that everyday. I've trained a lot of guys in the last few years and they just don't have what Connor has."

"Has any of your trainees made it to the championship circuit?"

"No. Not yet." Shawn looks over and you chuckle. "What? You think I'm not good at training?"

"Not that. I'm just laughing because your last trainee was Tate right?"

"Yeah."

"He definitely didn't have what it takes."

"He didn't. He couldn't listen, just wanted to do what he thought was right. You'd think when a two time western champion and two time national finalist takes the time to train you, you might try and give a fuck." Shawn sits up and squeezes the shit out of his stress ball. "Tate honest to God pissed me off like no other."

You raise your eyebrows and giggle. How funny it was that the two of you shared the same distaste for Tate. "He was something."

"No. He's nothing and he's never going to be until he gets his head out of his ass."

"Harsh."

"You think so? I'm sure you've thought the same thing."

You smirk. "I've definitely thought worse."

"And I'm harsh?"

"I haven't said it out loud." You scoff and lean back in Jodi's chair. "But someone should."

Shawn stands and walks over to the desk. He leans forward and smirks. "I'd tell that sorry piece of shit every single thing you wish you could say to him. I'd hand deliver it to him right in his smug fuckin jaw."

"Easy tiger." You run your hand up his arm, fingers curling against bicep and he drops his head. "No need for the violence. Fighting is an art not a brawl."

"You-"

"I'm using your own words against you?" You smirk and stand up, checking a message on your phone from Sammy about stopping by for tips from last night.

Shawn straightens up with a grin and shakes his head. "You remember me telling Tate that?"

"It's the first thing I ever heard you say to him."

"Tate is a dumbass for losing a woman like you, y'know?"

"Yeah." You walk around and past Shawn toward the door. "But if he wasn't, I wouldn't have ever found a man worth fighting for."

_____________________

Wednesday afternoon is a shit show. For some reason there are a couple day drinkers in at the bar and they won't stop bugging Sammy. She's covering a shift for one of the other waitresses, Megan, since it's her birthday and she's seriously regretting it. Day shift is supposed to be easy. The worst part being an occasional kid throwing food around. Poor girl.

"I just can't do it," Sammy hisses as she stands beside you at the end of the bar at the wash station. "That guy over there has been harassing me non stop. I've tried everything to get him to fuck off."

You take a look over at the end of the bar and you know exactly which guy it is. He's in his thirties, probably an insurance broker or real estate agent by the looks of his tailored suit and gray temples. He looks older than he should. There's a glass of whiskey in his hand that you served him about ten minutes ago. He's the one you were about to cut off and send packing anyways.

"Want me to make him leave?"

"Do you have a bouncer?" Sammy glances over your shoulder. "Because I don't think he's going to leave so easily."

"Well, how about we make him realize you're not into him?"

"By doing what?"

You smirk and set down your dirty glasses into the sink. "I can stage kiss you. I used to do it all the time with my friends back in Vegas." You look down at the guy. He'd definitely fall for it, he was too drunk to see straight. "We'll make a show of it."

"I don't know." Sammy twists her hands in her apron. "Maybe he'll just leave?"

"Sammy. He's not gonna leave if he thinks he has even an inkling of a chance." You pull Sammy down the bar closer to where the creep is sitting. "It's up to you. He's watching us right now."

"Okay, okay." She shakes her hands out and puts her hand on your shoulder, going up to your neck. You can see her glance over at the guy. "It's working he's watching intently."

"Good." You cup her cheek and bring your other hand up to here jaw and cover her mouth with the side or your palm as you pretend to kiss her. "Is he looking?"

"Mmhyeah."

You pull back and give Sammy a hug before going down the bar to the creep. "Do you need a refill on that?" You ask, pointing to his nearly empty glass. You weren't really going to give him a refill, he'd had more than enough.

"No." He grumbles and stands up. "I'm going home." He passes you his credit card and you settle his tab. "Thanks."

Sammy beams from her spot by the liquor shelves. "I can't believe that worked!"

"Almost every time." You walk over and hand her the ones the creep had left as a tip under his cup. "For you dear."

"Thanks." Sammy pockets the bills and smiles. "I wish I had you years ago."

"Well I'm here now." You ruffle her hair and she ducks away. "Do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Keep an eye out for Shawn? He is supposed to be coming in for lunch."

"Ohhh." Sammy smirks. "You got a little crush on the big boy?"

"Obviously." You toss your bar rag over your shoulder and head for a lady who's just walked up at the end of the bar. "How couldn't I?"

"He's a good one!" Sammy laughs and heads off to check on her tables while you get back to bartending.

_____________________

Shawn never showed up for lunch. You can't say you weren't a little disappointed since you had made plans, but you understand that he may have gotten busy at the gym. Things happen. It isn't a big deal.

You stop by the gym the next day to help Jodi with registration for the fall championship circuit for the western region. She had to have all of the fighters from Harlow's registered and ready to go by Monday. It is a ton of paperwork and you know what to do, so you volunteer to help out before work.

"Can you go get Jack for me? I need to talk to him about getting me a copy of his physical."

"Yep." You push away from her desk and head out the door. The locker rooms are to the right of the main floor of the gym and you head there first.

"Dude, I saw her kissing Sammy."

You freeze and listen to the conversation you've walked up on. It's clearly Shawn.

"So? What's the big deal?" It's Connor.

"I thought she was into me. We've been flirting and stuff and then I walk into Dixie's for lunch and she's kissing the waitress! I thought she was into guys!"

Connor laughs and sighs. "I dunno dude."

"I can be into both." You say, stepping into view and getting a good look at Shawn in nothing but a towel. He's dripping wet and it's so hard to focus on the conversation at hand, you have to look away. "Maybe if you wanted to know what was going on, you should ask me?"

Connor's eyes go wide and he looks between the two of you before ducking his head and squeezing around Shawn to make himself scarce.

"I know you can like whoever you want...I just thought..."

"Shawn." You walk over to him and lay your hand on his chest. He's warm and damp and oh Lord when he shifts you can feel the muscle flex. "Relax. I pretended to kiss Sammy so a guy at the bar would stop harassing her."

"Oh."

"Is that why you didn't show up for lunch?"

"Yeah." He rubs the back of his neck. "I walked in and saw that kiss and I didn't know what to think. I'm sorry, I should have asked you."

"It's fine. I probably would have been really confused too." You look him over and he smirks. "I swear I'm still very much into you."

"Yeah? Enough to go on a real date?"

"Mmm I think it's time we did. Any plans?"

Shawn grins. "I have a few. How's this Saturday night sound?"

"I'm off. What time?"

"Six? I'll pick you up. Wear something comfortable and not too fancy."

You raise your eyebrows and he just keeps smiling. "Alright. I'll see you then. In the meantime, have you seen Jack? We need a copy of his latest physical for the registration."

"He's probably out on the floor. If you didn't see him, check the backroom because he might be resting on the spare mats."

"In the storage area?"

"Yeah." He chuckles. "He likes to meditate and listen to his audio books back there to relax."

"Oh. Well thanks." You pat Shawn's chest and he traps your hand under his, curling his fingers around yours. "Yes?"

He bites his lip and shakes his head before releasing your hand. "Nothing. Go on."

"See you in a bit."

_____________________

"Do you still do photography?" Harlow asks you Friday day while you, her and Jodi sit in their living room while going over travel plans for the out of state fights in this year's competition.

"A little bit. I don't do anything professionally anymore."

"But you have your camera?"

"Yeah of course and my lenses. Why?"

Harlow grins. "If I hire you, will you do the photography for the website? I need pictures of all the guys for the brackets this year."

"Sure I can do that. I think I have a my backdrop stuff still as well."

"You'll probably get to photograph Shawn too." Jodi pipes up from where she's typing away at the laptop. "You could take a few just for yourself."

"Jodi!"

"What?"

Harlow groans and shoves her wife's shoulder. "I'm hiring her for a professional shoot, quit teasing her."

"Yeah yeah."

"What time do you want me to stop by? I'm free this weekend and next Thursday all day. Otherwise I work after six."

"Stop by whenever you want. I'm sure it'll take a few days to get all the fighters done and we have a few weeks before fights start. We'll start with Connor when you do get set up. He's my headliner. I'm banking on him hard so I want his photos to be really good."

"Yes ma'am."

_____________________

"So you're doing photos for Harlow?"

You look over at Shawn from the passenger side of his truck. He'd picked you up at a little after six and still wouldn't tell you where you're going. He did make you change into an old pair of jeans instead of the black skinnies you had on and promised you wouldn't regret it. You're almost convinced he's taking you mudding outside of town because you've been driving for twenty minutes and you're still not sure where the hell you are.

"Yeah, I'm doing photos for her? Why?"

"No reason, I was curious."

"You want me to take pictures of you too?"

"I'm not a fighter in the circuit."

"So?"

Shawn looks over and raises his eyebrows. "So why would you take pictures of me?"

"Because you're gorgeous." You look out the window away from him, heart racing at your admission. "I'd die to photograph you in action. You're a rarity, perfect from every angle. It'd be a treat."

"I had no idea you were so into photography. That's awesome." He bumps your leg and you look over. "I'd love to see what kind of photos you take at matches."

"I've taken some good ones. But like I said, I really want to photograph you."

He chuckles. "Sorry sweetheart. I'm retired." He turns the truck down a dirt road toward a big sign that says Pierce Ranch.

"You have a farm?"

"No, my uncle does."

"Why are we going to your uncle's farm?"

"Because I'm taking you horseback riding."

"What? You're serious?"

Shawn turns the truck into a long driveway in front of a big sprawling house. "Dead serious. My uncle is out of town for a few days and he said we could come out and spend some time out here."

You sit stunned in silence. Horseback riding as a first date. Who thought of that? It's so off the wall and incredibly romantic.

"Should we go back?"

You snap out of your thoughts and look over at Shawn as he kills the engine in front of a set of garages. He looks worried. "No, why?"

"You're really quiet. If you don't want to do this we can just go to dinner or something. I know it's kind of different and-"

"I want to go horseback riding."

"Oh." He smiles big and you can see the relief on his face. "Okay good. I'm really looking forward to having you meet my favorite horse."

You put your hand on the door to get out. "I can't wait."

An hour later and you're set up on a horse named Butters, his favorite, and you're strolling along side Shawn on a well worn path around some trees behind the barns. You were nervous at first, needing Shawn's help to stay on the horse but eventually you got the hang of it.

"So, you must really like horses then?" You giggle, looking over at Shawn during a lull in conversation.

"Yeah. I used to spend every summer here with my Uncle Carlos. I still come out here pretty often when I need to relax and get away from it all."

"Ahh, I can see why. It's nice." You bite your lip and glance over. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yes?" He chuckles. "Usually that's how dates go."

"Why don't you fight anymore?"

Shawn is quiet. You know it's a sore subject, seeing as no one really wanted to get too in depth when they talked about Shawn's past. You're curious though. A man like him with his skills and experience could still be in the ring.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it."

"No, I-I knew you'd ask eventually." He sighs and guides the horses to a clearing in the trees. He slides off and hitches his horse and then yours to a tree before helping you down.

"Seriously, you seem uncomfortable to talk about it. We don't have to."

Shawn stuffs his hands into his pockets as the two of you head for a bunch of rocks. There's a stream nearby and you can hear the water trickling along the rocks you're walking toward. This place is incredibly serene and you feel bad for bringing up such a tense subject when the date has been going so well.

"So, three years ago I won my second championship." Shawn drops down onto a large flat boulder. "But, the fight was so intense I almost killed my opponent. Now I know, fights get rough and tension runs high in the ring when there's a lot of money and a title at stake. It wasn't about that though. I kicked my opponent so hard he dropped, he just went down, lights out. It wasn't until after everything was said and done I found out he had serious brain trauma from the fight, particularly from my kick."

You sit down next to Shawn and grab his hand. He rubs his thumbs over your fingers gently before continuing.

"I found out he had a newborn baby. I accidentally almost killed this man and took him away from his child because of a sport. I had to stop after that. I couldn't do it anymore."

"Oh Shawn." You squeeze his hand and he looks at you. "You didn't kill him though. He's fine, he's alive and with his child. It is part of the risks you take as fighters."

"I know. I just couldn't deal with that sort of thing happening again. I've made my peace with it and with fighting."

"I understand." You scoot a little closer and he runs his free hand over his hair. "You're a great trainer. Maybe being a fighter isn't for you anymore, but your skills aren't wasted this way. Do you want to fight?"

"To be completely honest, yes. I want to fight every single day, I itch to compete and I think that's why I push Connor so hard. I'm living vicariously."

"Maybe you could do some small time stuff? Not such high stakes?"

"I can't." He shakes his head. "When I'm in the ring I don't stop, I fight hard until I'm out or I win. It's all or nothing."

"Oh."

"Yeah. But anyways, I'm happy training." He smiles, soft and small but genuine nonetheless. "I'm proud to be training a fighter like Connor."

"Good. That's what matters." You bite your lip and giggle to yourself. "I much rather see you like this then all beat up anyway."

"Oh yeah? Not into the black eye and busted lip look?"

"Not on you." You reach out and tenderly turn his face to you. "You're too gorgeous to see damaged."

"I'm gorgeous?" Shawn smirks and runs his hand over your hair. "I think you're mistaken. You're the gorgeous one here." He cradles your face in his hand and just stares at you lovingly.

"No, definitely not." There's a moment where you're both staring at each other's lips and you both know that you want to make a move but it's too soon. Or is it?

Shawn's hand slides away from your face and he stands, offering to help you up. "Let's go back. I've got stuff to make dinner."

"You're making me dinner?"

He hauls you up against him. "Mmhmm. You can help if you'd like." He holds you steady by your hips. "How does spaghetti and meatballs sound?"

"Really good."

"Good." He puts his arm around your shoulders and starts walking back to the horses. "Because when we both have garlic breath the rest of the night won't matter."

You laugh and he just beams at you. "You're something else." You run your hand over his back and he leans his head on yours. "I like it, I like you."

"I like you too."

_____________________

Wednesday night comes around again quicker than ever and Dixie's is crawling with people. All the fighters from Harlow's have showed up to celebrate the announcement of the western circuit championship bracket. Shawn shows up a little after nine and you can't help the smile that spreads across your face. He smiles back and makes your heart beat faster. Things have been going incredibly well with him since the date at the ranch. You're falling hard and fast and you don't really want to stop.

"Hey darling," Shawn says over the loudness as he leans against an empty spot at the bar. "How's it going?"

"Packed! Harlow brought all the guys and their friends and families in! It's crazy."

"Good for business though."

"Very. Carrie is moving faster than I've ever seen her go. We've had to pull Dave from the kitchen twice to help me catch up with drinks. We're gonna need to restock." You laugh and point back at the bar. "My tips are racking up fast too."

Shawn looks you over in your required black tee and apron. It's nothing special, but you know it looks good on you and so does he. "You deserve every dollar you get tonight. You're working hard."

"I am. Can I get you something?"

"Just a diet coke is fine. I'm taking it easy in case anyone needs a ride home tonight."

You turn around and fill a glass from the soda guns attached to the counter. "Enjoy yourself, you got most of these guys to this competition after all."

Shawn raises his drink to that and smiles. "I'm going to go hang out with Connor and Jack. I'll check in later?"

"I'll be here."

Two hours later and you are pushing through the kitchen doors to find Carrie. There's a guy who's harassing you and he's way more wasted then he should be, you've only served him three drinks and they weren't that strong. You suspect he may be taking something along with his drinks and Carrie won't have that sort of activity in her establishment.

"We've got a problem." You state angrily, gripping the doorway to the walk in cooler. "It's that asshole who's been trying to get my number since he sat down."

"Yeah?" Carrie turns to look at you as she hauls out a box of burger patties for the cooks. "Is he tweaked out?"

"I think so. He just grabbed my chest when I leaned over to hand some drinks to a guy beside him."

Carrie is livid, her eyes look like she could kill a man with her bare hands and possible has before. "Oh he's gone, I'm gonna-"

A loud crash from beyond the kitchen stuns you both and not a second later Dave, the line prep cook, throws open the door to the backroom and says there's a fight in the front area. Carrie drops the box of burgers in the cooler and closes the door as she hightails it to the front with you on her heels.

The scene before you is not pretty and immediately you think that it's one of the fighters involved. You're right. It's a fighter. But not a current one. It's Shawn and he is standing in front of the bar squared up with the drunk grabby handed guy. There is an overturned table and chairs and you think Shawn's already knocked the asshole down once, or he stumbled into the table and fell.

"Shawn!" You try to yell over the crowd but it's way too loud.

Carrie pushes past you and shoves her tiny frame through the crowd. You decide to go around to get behind the bar and as soon as you do you see a mess of shattered glass and ice on the floor.

"Shawn!" You shout, hands cupped around your mouth. "Shawn stop!"

He isn't listening or he can't hear you. Either way he's swinging at the drunk guy again in defense and before anything can get worse, the cops show up. You watch as the crowd separates and drunk grabby hands gets cuffed while Shawn tries to talk to the cops. It's no use and you watch them walk Shawn out of the bar as well.

You lean on the counter with your back to the door as the two guys get escorted out. Great. You can't help but feel like this is your fault. Shawn must have seen the move grabby hands pulled and approached him. You run your hand over your hair and look to Carrie as she steps behind the bar.

"God damn fighters. This is such a mess!"

"Yeah it is." You chuckle dryly to yourself. "It sure is."

______________________

You didn't think you'd ever be waiting in the lobby of a police station at three in the morning but here you are. Harlow was going to come with, in fact she was going to go alone and bail Shawn out but Jodi was absolutely trashed and you know she needed to take care of her over Shawn, so you said you would go. Besides, you wanted to talk with him one on one about the fight and why it happened.

You hear Shawn before you see him. He's coming down the hall behind the check in desk. "What do you mean my girlfriend came and-"

"Hey," you wave and he walks over to you quickly and hugs you tight.

"Thank God you're okay."

"Of course I'm okay. What would have happened to me?"

Shawn pulls you back and holds your face. "I couldn't find you after that guy put his hands on you. I was worried you left Dixie's or he did something."

"Shawn, he was wasted. What was he going to do to me? He could hardly stand."

"I don't know. I approached him after I saw what happened and he was talking all this shit like what he wanted to do to you. God it was disgusting, and then I didn't see you around and I panicked."

You cup his face and he has a bruise blossoming on his left jaw. "So your instinct was to fight him?"

"He came at me. I was just going to get some of the guys to help me escort him out but he started swinging as soon as I said he needed to go."

"Well it's done and over with now." You turn and head for the doors. "I'll take you to get your truck at the bar."

The ride to Dixie's is quiet. The dark streets are empty, illuminated only by the soft yellow street lights that have been there for far longer than they should be. Seriously the light is so dim it hardly lights up the road. You turn down the street you live on to take a shortcut to Dixie's and as you pass your house you glance at it instinctively.

You slam on the breaks just past your driveway. "What the fuck?" You put the car in park and squint at your darkened front door, or lack thereof. The door is open, gone by the looks of it.

"Don't get out of the car." Shawn warns, flipping the lock button. "Someone could still be in there. Call the cops and back up out of sight."

You fumble with your phone and put it up to your ear. You report the break in and your street name. As soon as you're done you reverse down the street until you're a few houses away.

Shawn reaches over and lays his hand on your shoulder. "Do you know anyone who might have done this?"

"No. I have no idea. I don't even have anything worth stealing!" You lean your head on the steering wheel. "I don't understand. Could this night get any worse?"

"Don't say that." Shawn rubs up and down your back. "It's not the end of the world. We'll find out what's going on."

"What if I had gone home from Dixie's? What if I didn't come pick you up?" You look at the darkened house. "What if I was there?"

"You weren't. That's what matters. Look," he points to a police car coming down the street. "Here comes the cops."

"Will you go in with me?"

"Of course. You think I'm gonna just stay in the car?" Shawn grabs your hand and kisses it gently. "Come on, let's go talk to the cops."

An hour later and you've filed a full report with Officer Jones. There was nothing stolen as far as you can see. The house is fine, completely in order except for your room. Your dresser had been torn through and your closet emptied out, bed sheets and blankets torn apart too. You have absolutely no idea what someone was looking for and Officer Jones kept asking if you were completely sure you didn't know who could have done this.

It's nearly five in the morning and you are exhausted. The sun is coming up and the sky outside is getting brighter by the minute. You need to sleep and you don't feel safe in your house with the door broken and your bedroom torn apart.

"Grab some clothes, I'm gonna take you to my place." Shawn says, walking around your mess of a bedroom. "We'll take care of the broken door frame and stuff later."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. Come on. I know we're both exhausted so I'll drive and we'll pick up my truck tomorrow. We need to rest, it's been a long night."

You grab a tote bag from your closet and throw a few shirts and jeans in it with some underwear. "I could stay with Jodi."

"I really would feel better if you stayed with me." Shawn takes the bag from you as you grab a pair of shoes and socks by the dresser. "Are you okay with it?"

"Of course Shawn." You join him by the door and lay your hand on his shoulder. "I trust you. We'll go to your place. If you want to take that stuff to the car I'm going to grab my camera gear. I told Harlow I'd start doing photos tomo- today." You sigh. "Well, I'll try and get everything set up after we get a few hours of sleep."

"I'm sure she'll understand." He rubs your back and you lean your head on his shoulder. You're absolutely at your limit, body ready to collapse on the next available soft surface. "I'll be in the car. Don't take too long."

"I won't."

_____________________

When you wake up you have no idea what time it is. Shawn's room is bright and you look around for some hint that he is there. He had insisted you take his bed and he'd sleep on the couch. His bed smells so good, like fresh laundry and his cologne. Warm and spicy, it is absolutely perfect. You reach for your phone on the nightstand and see it's just after noon. There are three missed texts.

Harlow: are you coming by to do the shoot today?

Shawn: I'll be at the gym, take it easy and help yourself to the fridge.

Harlow: nvm please rest I talked to Shawn

You close your eyes and flop back onto the pillows. You promised Harlow you'd be by to take some photos, at least some of the ones for the gym website. You turn over and curl up with Shawn's spare pillow, pressing your face into while opening Shawn's text to reply.

You: is Harlow mad I didn't make it?

Shawn: no. I explained the situation and she's more worried about you than anything

You: tell her I can still make it in to set up at least

Shawn: okay. If u are coming by bring me an extra shirt? I forgot to bring one for post workout.

You: okay no prob.

You glance over at his dresser and then back to the window opposite you that over looks the tree line behind his house. It looks like a nice day, it'd be a shame to waste it but you aren't feeling like going out. You just want to stay curled up in his bed forever. Yesterday was so draining with everything that happened and you don't know how much you can handle without snapping at someone. Rest had definitely helped but you still feel uneasy about the break in. It just seemed so targeted like Officer Jones said, but you can't imagine what someone would want from you.

Eventually you get up and make your way down stairs to the kitchen. Shawn's place is beautiful, it truly is. It's very much like a modern cabin and you're not surprised since it's just outside of town in the woods. He's got a few neighbors but it's not like a usual neighborhood setting.

You grab a protein bar from what you assume was once a fruit basket. It looks good enough and you grab your purse from the living room, stuffing one of Shawn's tees into it before you head out. You pause, looking down at the white shirt hanging out of your purse. You go back into the bedroom and take a blue shirt from Shawn's dresser before stripping off your top and pulling the white tee on over your head. It's a little big but it fits well enough and you smile to yourself in his mirror. You grab your purse and head for the front door.

The drive into town is quiet, a little long, but it's nice. It's one long road that winds around the woods in a circle and then turns out on to Main St that you take all the way into town. It's basically a cul-de-sac but in the woods. The whole time you wonder if you should stop by the house and check on it, or if you should call Officer Jones and see if they have anything to go off of. You're really banking on one of your neighbor's having a security camera or something that spotted the intruder. Though your street is so dark at night it's hard to see anything anywhere.

You turn into the lot behind Harlow's and park beside Jodi's Jeep. You unload your backdrops and stands, carrying everything in the back door. You're met with Connor whos grabbing some tape for a mat from the storage room and he offers to help.

"Look who I found," Connor announces as you walk out onto the gym floor with all your stuff in hand.

Shawn walks over from boxing with a stand up bag. "Hey darling," he takes your camera bag and stand case. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yes." You smile softly. "Your bed is very comfortable."

"I'm glad." He rests his hand on your lower back. "Is this my shirt?"

"Maybe."

He grins and kisses your cheek. "It's all yours now. Looks good on you anyway. Any word from Officer Jones?"

"Not yet. I'm sure he'll call tonight or tomorrow."

"You can stay at my place as long as you need to."

You stand up on your toes a bit and kiss his cheek. "Thank you."

"Alright love birds break it up." Jodi says loudly, clapping at the two of you. "Before you start getting set up I wanna talk to you about what happened, I need to know who I'm going to skin alive."

"We don't know anything yet Jodi." Shawn says with an eye roll. "I told you that."

Jodi snorts. "I'm still going to kick someone's ass."

"I promise I'll let you know who to hunt when we hear back from the police." You say softly and Shawn gives you another kiss on the head before heading back over to the cage with Connor. Jodi puts her arm around you and the two of you head to the backroom that isn't full of old equipment to set up your camera.

_____________________

Photos go well, you manage to get all the guys done in a few hours. You'll go home later and look them over to decide if you need to reshoot anything. But for now you are finished and starting to pack up.

"Hey, you forgot one."

You turn and look at Shawn standing in the doorway to the backroom where you're set up. "I did?"  

"Yeah. Me." He grins and steps in, closing the door behind him. "I thought you couldn't wait to get photos of me."

"Well, I figured I could get them any time."

"Oh? You think I'll pose for you whenever you like?"

You smirk. "You might, but I want to take candids of you."

Shawn wraps his arms around you and you lean back into his chest. "Candids huh?" He noses against your ear, hand going over your stomach. "Like private candids of me in my bed, laid out on the sheets holding my-"

"Shawn!"

He chuckles deeply and you can feel your body get warm, heat pooling between your legs. "Is that not what you want?"

You turn around in his hold and run a hand over his hair. "I want so much more from you then a couple of photos."

"Yeah? Tell me what you want."

"Oh you know...all the good stuff."

"The good stuff?" He walks you back against the backdrop and you bring his head down, foreheads rolling together. "This kind of good stuff?" He asks lowly before he kisses you softly.

"I know why you came in here." You whisper between kisses, hands going up and down his back. "You're jealous."

He lets out a growl as he kisses along your jaw. "You think I'm jealous of my fighters?"

"Your fighters hmm?"

"Mmm. I'm partnered with Harlow." He pulls back to look down at you. "I own the gym with her. I thought you knew?"

"No, I had no idea. She seems so bossy and it's called Harlow's so..."

Shawn plays with the ends of your hair, twisting his finger around bits of it. "She already had the place, I just bought in with championship winnings to keep it open. She runs the business side with Jodi and I run the gym floor as you can tell."

"Wow. So Connor and the other guys in the circuit this season is a huge deal for you."

"Yeah. A win from one of them could mean we expand Harlow's, new equipment, more fighters. With four guys going this year we have a good chance, and with Connor, we have the odds in our favor, I think."

You grin and shake your head. "Our first kiss and here we are talking business. Y'know if you were anyone else I'd have left by now."

"But I'm not anyone else." He leans in and bumps his nose to yours. "I'm special huh?"

"Oh you're special alright."

Shawn gives you one more kiss before he laughs and pulls back. "Let me make it up to you. I told Connor I'd go to dinner with him at Dixie's to talk about his first fight and what to expect. We can go a little early and have some time to ourselves first. How does that sound?"

"Sounds like a date."

"Oh it's not necessarily a date, but it could be."

You smile and he just holds your hips looking down at you. "Come on, enough staring like weirdos. I'm hungry."

____________________

Dixie's is packed when you arrive but you manage to get a table near the bar that's a small two seater. You see Carrie running around like a mad woman and two of the day time waitresses are running around behind her. The place is popular this time of year with fighters and their crews moving into town and nearby during the first part of the western circuit. That's what Carrie told you anyway during her briefing on what to expect and how she deals with the increased number of fights during this time of year.  

"Is that Connor?" Shawn asks, pointing to a table behind you. "What's he doing here so- oh I see."

You turn and look over at where Shawn is pointing to a corner table where Connor is and leaning on the table in her work clothes is Sammy. You smirk, it's about time they talked. Sammy has been eyeing Connor for weeks but she's hesitant because he's a fighter and she knows what the lifestyle entails.

“They’re kids, leave 'em be.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sammy is a good girl. I’m not worried about it.”

“She is. She also knows what it’s like to live with fighters. She told me her brother was a fighter.” You shake your head. “I think she said he went north to try for the canadian championship but he didn't win and ended up settling down up there”

“I knew her brother Devin, we fought a few times.” Shawn smiles over his drink. “The guy was really good, he gave me a run for my money.”

“Oh yeah? Did he train at Harlow’s?”

“No, no it was way before then. When I was nineteen he was twenty one, we went a few rounds in my first championship entry. I didn’t win that year, I got too cocky and big headed. He was a tough dude though, if Sammy is anything like him she’ll keep Connor in his place.”

You chuckle. “Sammy is very shy, I’m not sure she’s like her brother at all.”

“The shy ones are the ones you gotta watch out for.” Shawn smirks and you roll your eyes.

"Anyways, you said I could stay at your place again?"

"Mmhmm." Shawn smiles and chews on his straw. "I definitely don't mind."

"Good. I'm nervous about going home until we find out more from the police. It's feels like such a personal attack since they went through just my bedroom and didn't even take anything." You shake your head and lean you chin on your hand on the table. "They didn't even take jewelry. Someone wanted something from me."

"Maybe they thought it was someone else who lived there?"

"I don't know. I hope there is video footage from one of the neighbors that shows us something."

"They're gonna check with the neighbors for you?"

"Yeah, Officer Jones called while I was photographing Gauge. He said they're gonna canvas the area, ask for surveillance from anyone nearby and see if they can't get a suspect or even a car or something."

Shawn leans back and crosses his arms. "Y'know I was actually thinking, do you think it could be Tate? I didn't want to say something about him to the cops but is there something you have of his?"

You raise your eyebrows. You hadn't thought of Tate being a suspect. Hell, you were two states away from him now and it's been months since the break up. "I don't think I have anything. I gave him everything back, all his clothes and anything he ever bought me. I left it all in a box in our apartment."

"It was just a thought."

"No, it's a good one. He is crazy enough to do something like that." You roll your eyes and flag down Carrie to pay for your drinks. "Maybe I can call him, or I could try his sister Maggie."

"I'd try Maggie if you have a good relationship with her. If it was him he probably won't want to talk to you."

Carrie stops by the table and hands you your bill. "Have you seen Sammy?"

"She's over there with..." You look around for her and Connor but neither are at the table in the corner anymore. "Well she was here. Is she working tonight?"

"Yeah. Her shift starts in five minutes." Carrie takes your cash and you wave her off for change. "You say you seen her?"

Shawn chuckles. "She was with Connor."

"The fighter?"

"Yeah, my champ." Shawn stands and gives you a look and you nod, letting him know you don't mind if he goes looking for the two of them. "I think I know where they are."

Carrie raises her eyebrows. "Well if you find her, tell her to get her ass to work."

"Yes ma'am." Shawn smiles. "See you at the house." He squeezes your shoulder and heads for the front door.

A minute later Sammy comes walking in very flushed and you can't help but smile to yourself. She's got a flower tucked into her hair and you think her and Connor must have been sitting out on the patio since the flower is definitely from the pots out there.  

____________________

You get to Shawn's place a little after eight. His truck is in the driveway so you know he's there. The sun is starting to go down and you are tired from working on photos and stress from the break in. Your brain is absolutely taxed. All you want is some dinner and a soft bed. You turn the handle to the door and walk into music blasting from the kitchen. It's some eighties hair band and you chuckle to yourself as you walk across the living room to find Shawn around the corner shadow boxing at the stove shirtless.

"What's for dinner?" You laughs and he looks back around with a grin. "Smells good!"

Shawn turns and shuts off the music on his phone. "It's chili. I figured it's pretty easy to throw together since I got home just a few minutes ago."

"Why not order something?"

"Eh, I like homemade." He stirs the pot around. "I haven't had it in a while, I thought it'd be nice."

You walk around the island and take a look into the pot. It's not chili. Well, it is, but it's not what you were expecting. "What kind of chili is this?"

"Chili Verde. My dad's recipe. Wanna taste?" He spoons some out to cool in a little bowl on the counter.  "I promise it's good."

You smile. "I'm sure it's very good. What's in it?"

"Pork, onions, green chilies. I cheated and used a bottle of premade chili verde salsa for a starter since I don't have time to stew tomatillos and green chilies for hours." He spoons some up for you and you take a bite. "Good yeah?"

"Hot." You cover your mouth. "It's kinda spicy but I like it. It's good."

Shawn beams and scoops out two bowls to cool. "I'll finish getting dinner ready, go change and relax."

You lean up on your tiptoes and kiss his cheek. "Thank you for making me dinner."

"Of course." He kisses your nose and your heart skips. "Go on."

Post dinner you're sitting on the couch with Shawn watching some ghost hunter show. He's got his arm around your shoulders and you're tucked into his side snugly. It's comfortable, being with Shawn feels incredibly natural. He's warm and safe.

"What're you doing next Sunday?" Shawn asks as he tucks his feet against yours where your legs are outstretched on the ottoman. "I was thinking if you're available we could go out."

"I work the late shift but I can see if one of the guys can cover for me."

"I don't want you to miss work. We can go another day."

"No, I want to go. It'll be a nice escape from the stress around here." You run your hand down his forearm and slide your hand into his. "Are we going to go horseback riding again?"

Shawn squeezes your hand. "Nope. I have another idea."

"What is it?"

"I'm not telling." He grins at you and you narrow your eyes at him. "I can surprise you again can't I? It's more fun that way."

"I'd like to see what tops horseback riding."

"I have a few ideas. Don't worry." He glances at the clock on the wall in the kitchen. "I should go to bed, I have a seven o'clock session with Jack tomorrow." He scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. "Do you mind if I take the bed?"

"Nope. I don't mind sharing."

"Sharing? You're ready for that?"

You push off of him and stand up, putting your hand out to him. "I'm ready for anything with you."

He takes your hand and stands, pulling you against him. "Anything huh?" He runs a hand over your hair. "Falling a little fast aren't we?"

"I don't mind." You wrap your arms around his middle. "We work well together. I've never felt this comfortable and free around someone before."

He hums. "It feels natural. I completely understand."

You scratch at his back gently and he smiles down at you. "Let's go to bed. You need to be up early."

"Mmm I could always reschedule if we wanted to stay up late." He runs his hand down your back and over your butt. "I'm sure Jack won't mind."

You shake your head and laugh. "No, you're not cancelling work because of me. We can sleep together any time."

"Well don't make it sound like we're an old married couple, jeez."

You lean up on your tiptoes and kiss him quickly. "Maybe it's good practice for the future."

"Wh- oh." He grins. "First kiss and you're planning our future all in one day? Damn."

"Oh shut up." You pull away and head to his bedroom. "Come on, chop chop. The bed awaits."

_____________________

You wake up in the middle of the night and you're freezing. It doesn't even feel like there is a heater on in the house. You roll towards Shawn and slide your arm around his middle, spooning him from behind. He shifts. A soft grunt followed by a mumble of incoherent sleep laden words. He's like a furnace, body radiating into yours.

"You okay?"

"Mmhmm." You press a kiss to his hair. "All good now."

"I missed this." He places his hand over yours on his chest. His heart beats in time with yours, a cadence of comfort in the night. "I missed being held."

"It's been a while?" 

"A long while. I didn't like to date when I fought. I only wanted to focus on my work." He chuffs. "I'd deprive myself to be the best. Stupid huh?" 

"No. You thought it'd help. It must have, you did win." You flex your fingers against his skin, blunt nails scratching him lightly. "Do you like being the little spoon?" 

"Love it. There's something about having someone smaller than you curled up and wrapped around you that I just love. I do like being the big spoon too, but I really enjoy being held sometimes." 

"I'll hold you any time." You give him a squeeze and he tangles his legs with yours. "You're like a big teddy bear."

He chuckles and that's the last thing you hear before you fall asleep to the sound of his soft breathing and the beating of his heart under your fingertips. 

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

End Part 1

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

Thank you for reading! Part 2 will be out sometime in the future as I have to write the ending still, but it’ll be another 13k at least. Thank you all again.  - A

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 48 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Aiden threw a tantrum when he found out he’d be assisting at the holiday show, and Courtney tried learning more about her best friend’s sister.

This Chapter: The Galactica Holiday Show very nearly goes off without a hitch...but not quite.

***

There were times, in this job, where Courtney couldn’t help but be extremely grateful to Violet for all the binders full of detailed instructions that she’d left behind.

Today was one of those times.

Courtney had never been to a showroom show, had no idea what to expect, and hadn’t even known they existed before Ivy had told her to put it in the calendar.

However, between Violet’s checklists and Ivy’s lead, Courtney felt like she stood half a chance of, at the very least, not fucking up too badlfy.

She’d spent last week pulling together everything they needed for the gift bags, from sponsors as well as Miss Fame’s preferred vendors, and made sure that she’d written everyone attending personalized notes as usual, thanking them on behalf of the company and Miss Fame for coming.

A last-minute change with the look books meant that they weren’t going to be ready until 6:30 am, so she’d been up at the crack of dawn to get to the printers in Queens the second they opened, now arriving at the venue holding the two heavy banker’s boxes, mind racing with everything she still had to do to make sure the day went smoothly for Miss Fame, calculating exactly how much time she needed to have her breakfast and coffee so that it would still be hot when she arrived later.

Courtney was so deep in thought that she almost missed seeing Tatianna, her friend standing at the elevator, bouncing nervously in her tennis shoes.

“Courtney!” Tatianna smiled. She was wearing a pair of tight fitting yoga pants and a white boxy t-shirt, a backpack over her shoulder.

“Tati!” she cried. “Hi! I would hug you but-” She motioned with her chin to the banker’s boxes.

“Here, let me help.” Tati took one of the boxes before she could protest, kissing Courtney on the cheek in the process, her lips silky smooth on Courtney’s skin.

“Thank you! I wasn’t expecting to see you so early.” Courtney was pretty sure that the models all had a 9:30 call time, and it was barely 8.

“I know, but I was all freaked out about the train being on time,” Tati explained, shrugging her shoulder.

“Well, I’m super relieved to see you.” It was true, Tatianna’s familiar face looking even more beautiful than usual. “I’m kind of panicking.”

“Why?”

“There’s just so many things that can go wrong, and I feel like I’m kind of over my head, and-”

The elevator doors finally opened on the showroom floor, revealing the bustling space that was formerly an extremely posh apartment, Ivy speaking to the event coordinator over by the bay windows, a lighting technician climbing a ladder nearby and a contractor stapling the last of the runway carpet to the floor so no one could slip.

Courtney had only been at the showroom once before, briefly, to pick up a suit for Miss Fame, but it had been totally renovated since then, nothing looking familiar, especially not the rows of white chairs set up for their guests.

She spotted the gift bag boxes that her and Ivy packed up and sent over on Friday, all stacked under a large folding table, and hurried over to set her banker’s box down, Tati on her heels.

“Thanks so much for your help. Let me try to find out where-”

“Court!” Ivy called out, walking over to her. “Hi, glad you found the stuff! By the time you’re done setting up the bags, I’ll have the names on all the chairs so it should be easy to put them out. And that door-” she pointed, “leads to the room we’re using for Miss Fame, so check it out and let me know if you’re missing anything.” She then noticed Tati putting down her box, and stuck out her hand. “Hi! I’m Ivy Winters.”

“Ivy, this is my friend Tati. She’s one of the models-”

“Of course! I should have guessed!” Ivy exclaimed, giving Tati her typically charming smile. “Come with me, I’ll show you where you can hang out until they’re ready for you. You’re a bit early, but that’s okay, because that means you get first choice at the craft service table!”

Courtney smiled, happy that Tati was being taken care of, praying that everything today would go smoothly.

***

“Feeling nervous?” Sutan looked over his shoulder as he made his way up the winding staircase to the Galactica showroom apartment.

The showroom was placed in an older building, Fame purchasing it when Galactica had finally started to make actual money, a proper showroom something she refused to pinch pennies on, and since they were still in business, it seemed like it had been the right decision.

“I’m not going to shit my pants if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Ha,” Sutan smiled, Symone two steps behind him, her long hair in a braid. The gorgeous girl was one of his newest hires, her 19th birthday only just ticking around. He still remembered the text he’d gotten from the scout, who had been scoping out some regional teen beauty pageants in the south. He’d seen her picture and instantly instructed the scout to book her a flight to NY. He hadn’t meant to keep her, hadn’t intended to put her on his roster, but he liked her, her fighting spirit lighting up any set she walked on, and so far, even though she’d proven to be a fast learner, he still felt mildly protective of her.

“Not what I asked,” Sutan waited for Symone to catch up, “But good to know.”

They had almost made it to the showroom, Sutan giving her one last look over before they made it to the door. He had picked her up at the modeling apartment she was staying at, making sure she had a light breakfast and plenty of water, her black jeans and white crop top close enough to approved that he hadn’t bothered to ask her to go back inside and change.

Sutan knew it was probably nepotism to make his sister take Symone on so soon after the holiday fittings, but showcases were a good way to test drive newer models, to see if they were ready to do bigger and better things, and Sutan had every hope that Symone could be big.

“Okay, so,” Sutan turned to Symone. “Remember what I taught you. Shoulders back, chin up, back straight. Be polite, be nice, do as you're told.”

Symone nodded, her eyes resting on Sutan’s face, taking in everything he was saying.

“And most importantly.” Sutan smiled. “Have fun.”

***

“Okay, so has everyone found their models?”

Violet smiled as Trixie was standing in the middle of what probably used to be a smaller living room, holding his little clipboard, Alaska, Kim and Amy set up for makeup and hair at the side of the room, Raven already in one of the chairs, a magazine opened on her lap.

“Yes coach!” Maxwell yelled back, the man with Yuhua from tailoring who was making the final adjustments to one of the models. On one hand, it was a little unnecessary for Violet to be there, her holiday gown done and ready to go, the finished styling of the models not a task that fell in her hands at all.

Still, she was happy to be there, happy to get to experience this, but most of all, she was happy she wasn’t Courtney.

Courtney had been running around, trying and almost succeeding in making sure that Fame was in a good mood. They had never had a chance to test run a showroom show, but Violet knew she had left behind a binder with instructions for Courtney, keeping Fame level one of the harder tasks on a day like today, since a large portion of Galactica’s budget depended on impressing the rich and powerful that walked through the door.

Violet had been backstage at several shows, but this was the first time she was really paying attention to the models. She never used to think about what agency models came from, or even the models themself. At Parsons, no one had been able to afford them, and as Fame’s assistant, she only needed to give a single call to have every agency in town jump at the chance.

“Violet!” Violet paused, the sound of her name coming from a voice she didn’t recognize. “It’s so good to see you!”

Violet turned, coming face to face with the angel she remembered from Halloween.

“Oh,”

Tatianna was just as gorgeous as she had been the last time she saw her. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, her brown eyes, golden-tan skin and bright white teeth apparently just how she looked.

“Hello-”

“I didn’t know you worked here!” Tatianna grinned, a cup of coffee in her hand.

“I do-” Violet cursed on the inside, the answer absolutely lame. “I haven’t seen you here before. Who are you with?”

“With?” Tatianna looked confused for a second. “Ah! You mean who I work for? So it’s actually kind of a funny story. I don’t really have a manager yet, but Courtney got someone named Max to take these headshots-”

“Violet!” Violet’s head snapped to attention as Tatianna was cut off, Trixie calling for her. “One of the model management models needs a robe. Can you find one for her?”

“Yes coach.” Violet nodded, thankful for the escape as she made her way towards the rolling clothing racks at the back of the room, Ivy stuffing them full of everything anyone could possibly need, the things toppling over if anyone breathed in the wrong direction.

***

Over the weekend, Aiden had taken the time to look deep within himself, tried to figure out the actual source of his discontent. Maybe it was silly to focus so much anger on Violet, just because she was brand new and already getting more chances and support than he’d gotten over a year. After all, it wasn’t her fault that she seemed to fall ass-backwards into every possible opportunity. Maybe she wasn’t the actual enemy.

Of course, the second he saw her on Monday, he realized that all of that was garbage: he hated her, and her face, and her stupid high ponytail and impractical heels. She was a stuck-up brat who didn’t appreciate how easy she had it. And besides that, her dresses were overworked and reductive.

Aiden had tried to stay calm, had tried to do what he was supposed to, which was assist and support.

Holiday was a smaller collection, which Aiden knew because he had been at Galactica for forever, unlike Violet, so there wasn’t that much to do, tailoring only sending them fully finished garments which didn’t always happen during the mad dashes that were fashion weeks.

Aiden had helped Kiara, and had even taken a trip downstairs to get a box of shoes, but he had quickly faded to the back of the room, standing amongst the racks with a cup of coffee, watching everyone else work.

He heard her before he saw her, Violet’s heels clacking on the floor as she made her way towards the racks with her stupid little scissors, the gold glinting in the light. She was probably going to go over the final check of the garments, snipping any and all loose threads, once again acting like she was better than everyone else.

Aiden was about to say something, but Violet didn’t notice him, didn’t even see him as she walked up, didn’t acknowledge his existence.

And that was the final straw.

It was an impulse. A whim. A passing thought. After a glance around the room to make sure nobody was watching, he did it--shoved the rack as hard as he could, causing both Violet and the rack to crash to the ground, Aiden not hearing the sickening crunch of Violet’s foot that got caught on the bar.

***

[So, any takers on when her majesty will lose her shit today?] Sutan smiled at his twin over the rim of his glass of mimosa. They were standing on the outskirts of the showroom, Ivy walking from white chair to white chair as she put showcards down, a big box under her arm. The showroom was set up in the classic style, a black carpet in the middle of the rows with several smaller circles on the corners so the models had time to twirl and really show off their garments.

He had tried to catch a glimpse of Violet when he had dropped off Symone, but he hadn’t been able to spot her, Raven chatting his ear off before he had made his retreat to go look for his twin.

[Don’t even joke about that asshole.] Raja smirked, her arms crossed, her own glass about half empty. She was looking absolutely stunning in one of her suits, her long hair up in a high ponytail, jewels hanging from her ears. [Also, I think we need a new nickname. Fame is catching on to majesty.]

[Ha,] Sutan snorted. He loved being able to speak Indonesian with his sisters, the language like their own little secret, the perfect way to gossip without being discovered. [We could workshop the upcoming storm?]

Raja laughed, just about to open her mouth, when they both heard a loud crash.

[What was that?] Raja turned around, Fame’s little assistant rushing by them as she ran backstage.

[It sounded like something falling?] Sutan hadn’t heard a scream, and even though he could clearly pick out commotion backstage, he couldn’t make out the sound of anyone crying. [I’ll go check.]

Sutan drowned his glass, giving his sister a smile before he started walking, hoping that it wasn’t anyone from Elite who had fucked up.

***

“Is everyone okay?!”

Courtney could feel her heart in her throat as she ran into the backstage area. She had been at the front, practically dropping the box she was holding the minute she heard the crash.

Several racks at the back of the room were toppled over, clothes everywhere in a gigantic mess. Courtney ran over, a circle of people blocking her way.

“Everyone!” Courtney heard Trixie, a surprising note of authority in his usually gentle voice. “Back off!”

They all did, Courtney now able to press her way forwards, forcing her body past Max, when she heard the last name she had expected.

“Violet.” Courtney made her way towards the front of the row, and there she was. “Violet. Are you okay?”

Trixie had a hand on Violet’s knee, and Courtney had never seen her look like this. There were tear stains on Violet’s cheeks, her normally perfect appearance frazzled and broken.

“Oh my god,” Courtney threw herself forward, scrambling to get on the floor next to Violet, her only thought being near her friend. “Violet, are you-”

“Courtney-” Violet looked at her, her brown eyes practically black, her mascara smudge. “My foot, I can’t- It got caught-”

Courtney turned her attention to Violet’s foot, easily telling which one it was since her shoe was strawn to the side.

“This one?”

Violet nodded. A bruise was already beginning to form, visible through her sheer stockings, her skirt around her knees.

“Kandy-” Courtney searched the group for the design assistant, finding her watching the scene with frightened eyes. “Go to the bar and ask for a bag of ice.”

“Okay!”

“Violet!”

Courtney turned to see Raja’s brother racing in, coming directly towards them. All she could remember was how, months ago in Fame’s office, he’d made Violet cry and forced her to leave -- and Courtney was in no mood to deal with some macho bullshit when there was a medical emergency.

“Don’t look at me!” Violet held a hand up in front of her face, clearly trying to shield herself from him.

“Lovely eyes-”

“Mr. Amrull.” Courtney tried to step between them, to help her friend, everything in her burning to protect Violet. “Please stay back, we’re trying not to-”

“That’s my fucking girlfriend!” Sutan exclaimed, ignoring Courtney completely and rushing to Violet’s side, crouching down by her head. “Violet. Please-”

Courtney opened her mouth to argue, but when she saw Violet reach toward him, Sutan grabbing her hand, Courtney realized that maybe his presence would be comforting to her, in spite of the bad taste he’d left in Courtney’s own mouth.

“Vi…” Courtney said gently, still kneeling at Violet’s feet. It was too early to see if there was any swelling. “Can you put any weight on it?”

Violet tested it, wincing deeply and then shaking her head no. “I’m sorry-” Violet’s voice broke, sounding almost embarrassed.

“Okay,” Courtney swallowed, trying to stay calm, “I think we need to call for an ambulance.”

“No! No no.” Violet exclaimed, holding up the hand that wasn’t clasped in Sutan’s. “I don’t need an ambulance. I’ll just ice it and take a cab after the show-”

“After the show?!” Courtney almost wanted to hit the other woman. “Violet, you are not staying here when you’re hurt!”

“I have to do my job.”

“Lovely eyes-” Sutan tried to cut in, the panic in Violet’s voice rising.

“I made a huge mess and-” Violet reached for her throat, her fingers scratching her neck. “I can’t just-”

“Violet.” Trixie cut in, Courtney genuinely forgetting that he was still there, his tone leaving no room for arguments. “We’ll take care of this. All I want is for you to be okay. Kandy is calling an ambulance for you and-”

“No, please-” Red splotches had shown up on Violet’s cheeks. “No ambulance, I can’t afford that, I’ll-”

“How are you even going to get yourself downstairs to a cab?” Courtney sighed. She’d never been able to get used to the fact of how expensive everything related to healthcare was here, how people had to worry about money when they were lying on the ground with a possible broken bone. “You can’t go to the hospital on your own-”

“I’ll take her,” Sutan said gently, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head, and Courtney smiled slightly. Maybe she’d misjudged him.

“But what about your-” Violet looked up at Sutan, the man taking most of her weight.

“That’s not important. I’m coming with you, even if I have to carry you out of here.”

“Please,” Violet snorted, her panic forgotten for a moment as she smiled. “Don’t be ridiculous,”

Just then, Kandy rushed back in with the ice, and so Courtney decided to give up the fight, helping to find Violet’s bag and coat, instructing Kandy to take them down the service elevator, knowing that Miss Fame would be furious if they interrupted the party, even for an emergency.

***

Violet couldn’t remember ever feeling this embarrassed in her life. She was leaning against Sutan who had said a few words to Raven before taking off, the man supporting her like it was the most natural thing in the world as they entered the service elevator.

Violet had never been more grateful for how overprepared she was, the pair of foldable ballet flats she always kept in her bag almost making it bearable to move. She had no idea how she’d face her coworkers when returning to work, thick shame curled up in her belly, the pain in her foot the only reason she hadn’t fought harder to redirect the attention, everyone staring at her without a doubt showing up in her nightmares.

Violet had no idea how the entire accident had even happened. One minute, she’d been ready to do the final check Trixie had asked of her, completely in her own world, the next, several racks had taken her down.

The only explanation Violet could come up with was that she must have accidentally kicked the rack, that her foot had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, that this was her fault.

Violet didn’t know if her dress would be okay, if her coworkers could salvage the mess she had made, but she hoped that she hadn’t ruined anything, and that she still had a chance to keep her job.

***

Bianca strolled into the Galactica showroom, impressed by the renovation that had apparently taken place since she was last inside. At least one wall had been knocked down, opening up the space and allowing the light to pour in through the bay windows, and all the furniture was brand new, what appeared to be lovingly restored antiques. She looked around, finally spotting the bar and walking over. It was only halfway through the workday, but since it was a holiday week, she figured it was fine to indulge.

As she waited for the world’s slowest bartender to make her cocktail, she turned around again, surveying the room. Most of the guests were high-end buyers, socialites, people known for spending big bucks on couture. Bianca knew a few in passing, socially, but this really wasn’t her crowd. She sighed, annoyed, wishing she’d just asked for a glass of wine.

Just then, there was a stir in the room as Miss Fame appeared, making her way graciously through the crowd and finally greeting Bianca with a delighted smile.

“Bianca! Darling!” Fame was a vision in white, the creamy fabric hugging her hips, the short cape sleeves and the knee length her signature silhouette, gold glittering from her fingers and ears. “So glad you could make it!”

“Of course, blondie, I wouldn’t miss it!” Bianca gave her friend a couple of air kisses and a hug, careful not to crease her clothing. “So, will I be impressed?”

“It’s my most fervent hope,” Fame said, sounding so drily sincere that Bianca couldn’t help but laugh.

“How’s your jaw?”

“My jaw?” Fame raised a perfect eyebrow.

“You know, days like this...it must really ache from sucking all this metaphorical dick.” Bianca gestured towards the clientele around the room, then turned slightly to pick up the cocktail that was finally ready for her.

“Ugh, really Bianca,” Fame scolded, nose wrinkled distastefully, but she couldn’t keep up the act, soon letting a smile pull at her mouth, giving Bianca’s arm an affectionate squeeze.

It was then when Bianca noticed a petite blonde hovering timidly by Fame’s shoulder, shifting from foot to foot. Courtney was obviously trying to get to her boss, but afraid to interrupt.

She looked absolutely adorable--a short, classic black A-line dress with a starched white Peter Pan collar, hair held off her beautiful face with a narrow black headband, clipboard in hand like a dutiful little assistant. Bianca caught her eye, dimples appearing in her cheeks as she smiled.

“Hi Courtney.”

“Hi.” Courtney returned her smile as she stepped closer. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, I’m-”

“It’s okay, do your thing. Nice shoes.” Bianca gestured to her Mary Jane style Gucci heels, knowing that they were probably procured second-hand and even then, probably a prized possession to someone on Courtney’s salary. The delighted expression on Courtney’s face at the compliment confirmed that she was right, a smile that made her glow from the inside.

“Bianca,” Fame said. “How on earth do you know my assistant?” Her face was still smiling, but with slightly gritted teeth now, her eyes telling a clear story.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Bianca winked at Courtney, whose cheeks began to turn a charming shade of pink.

Fame turned her head and flashed Courtney a dangerous look, causing her to stammer out, “Oh um, I’m just… Bianca’s sister is my best friend, Miss,” cheeks reddening even more.

Letting out a mildly terrifying laugh, Fame responded, “How very delightful! What a small world we live in. Courtney dear, is everything alright backstage? On track?”

“Oh yes! That’s what I came to tell you. The situation has been handled and they’ll be ready to go in twenty minutes as planned.”

“Good.” Fame turned back to Bianca, dismissing Courtney with a little wave and, “That’s all.”

Courtney nodded, taking the signal and hurrying away. Bianca watched her go, and Fame watched Bianca, her eyes narrowing.

“Bianca Del Rio…”

“What?” Bianca turned back to Fame, batting her thick black eyelashes innocently.

“Do not. Even. Think about it!”

“Come on, I’m only human…” Bianca flashed a dimpled grin.

“I am serious. Leave her alone. Or I will end you.”

“Ooh, I’m so scared! You gonna nag me to death?”

“Bianca…” Fame’s eyes narrowed again. “I am telling you. Do not. Especially not this week when I already have my in-laws to deal with, and-”

“Alright, alright. I’ll wait until next week.”

“Bianca!” she huffed, and Bianca let out a loud cackle at her enraged expression.

“Would you calm down? Angel face over there is straight.”

Fame shook her head. “Yes well…So’s spaghetti until you get it wet. ”

Bianca laughed again, raising her class. “Cheers to that, blondie!”

[susiequaz12]

Like Usual

CW: Not really whump- just an emotional sad little drabble I wrote a bit ago. It’s kinda sad, but also fluffy and light if that makes sense? Some medical stuff referenced and implied and vomiting/medicine and stuff too. But that’s about it.

- - -

“Okay. Uhh- what am I wearing this time?” He asked.

“Umm- cargo shorts, with a ridiculous amount of pockets. And a Hawaiin shirt. But you look a lil dumb cause you’ve got a hoodie tied around your waist in case I get cold, and, uh- I’m in those blue shorts I got from Walmart, and my white shirt with flowers on it.” 

He laughed. “Okay, so what’s the occasion? Where are we at?”

She thought for a second. “The amusement park.” 

“The amusement park?! You mean the one across the highway? I-I could never handle that. It, it just wouldn’t work.”

She looked at him, folding her arms across her chest. “Dude, this whole scenario is imaginary anyways, just roll with it. You can do whatever.”

“Do I really have to be in a Hawaiin shirt and cargo shorts though?” He complained.

“Yes. It adds to the realism.”

“Okay then, what’s first.” 

“Food obviously, and then those little stores and the magic shows and stuff so we can digest- then all of the rides. And games in between.”

“Games?”

“Yeah, the carnival games that are rigged and make you lose all your money. You have to win me one of those ridiculously oversized stuffed animals so that it looks like I’m your spoiled girlfriend. It’s the rules. But I make you carry it around the entire time afterwards, and then it sits on my bed and I do nothing with it, but it’s a cute reminder of that one time we went to the park together and you won me that giant blue panda.”

“Wow, I thought you said this was an imaginary scenario? That sounds oddly specific to me.” He laughed, and the girl punched him in the arm. “Ouch! Careful, I’m fragile.” 

“Sorry...”

“Okay food. What are we eating?”

Her excitement perked up again. “Um, let’s see- we have to get all staples. Corn-on-the-cob of course, and those barbecue sandwiches they have, and then the cheesecake on a stick. Dip-n-dots, churros, pizza. Everything that’s so greasy it clogs your heart- And, and then deep-fried oreos! Oh! And that lemonade that thye’ve got- the one that says it’s so fresh you’d slap it!” 

She bounced up and down on the edge of the bed, visualizing all of the food in front of her. 

“Oh my gosh... deep fried oreos...” He said. “What have I been missing?” 

He sighed, but became immediately silent as his face went pale. One hand covered his mouth and the other went to his stomach as he sat up quickly. He grappled about for something, and she found the tan bowl that was on the opposite side of the bed. He gripped the sides with both hands and she held up the bottom of the bowl, her other hand rubbing his back as he emptied the contents of his stomach. Once he finished, she set the bowl on the side table, his head falling onto her shoulder, her hand still on his back.

He waved his hand. “Go on. We had just finished the food.” 

“Uh, okay- yeah. You good?”

He sat up and smiled, wiping his mouth off with the sleeve of his paper-thin gown. “Like usual.”

She nodded. “So there’s all those stores and vendors there. So, while- um, while holding hands if you wanted, we’d just walk around. And comment on the artwork and the merchandise like critics. Then we’d try on ridiculous pairs of sunglasses, or hats, and pretend that we’re actually considering buying things when in reality everything is too overpriced.”

“And I’ve spent all my money trying to win you that stupid panda.”

“Yeah!” She laughed. He smiled.

His hands reached over to hers and the two teenagers sat criss-cross-applesauce on the bed, facing each other. 

“Your hands are cold.” 

He laughed. “Yeah, they usually are.” Then he smirked- “So- exactly how dumb did I look in those sunglasses?”

“Oh, considerably. Enough that I’d almost consider buying them for you out of spite.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “You wouldn’t dare.” 

“Oh, maybe I would! After all, you wasted your money on winning me that blue panda, so I’ll waste all my money on a dumb pair of sunglasses for you.”

“As I recall from this fantasy, it wasn’t a waste- because I got you that blue panda, so you’re welcome!” He laughed, erupting from his belly. She couldn’t help but smile.

The times when he laughed were the best times the two had shared together. It helped add to the normalcy. It’s why the girl still came there almost every day after school, bringing his homework, and creating these stories. 

“So then what’s next?” He asked.

“The Ferris wheel. Obviously. It’s the best ride that there is! You get to spend a lot of time just sitting up there, and watching the view. You can see the horses at the farms in the distance, and the mountains. And then if it’s dark you can see all the stars. And then the lights from the rides below, and all of the cars and houses. It just creates this sort of eerie, and, and ethereal glow. It just sets the whole mood.” 

He was looking out the window now. It was nearing after dinner time. The cream colored curtains seemed as dead as the atmosphere as they hung loosely around the window frame. 

“You know, that’s something I could do.” He stated, never taking his eyes off of the window. “Just go outside, ride the Ferris wheel. Even just look at the stars.”

It was too cold for him to go out and look at the stars. The ground was still covered with snow and the wind was still too harsh.

She nodded. “Yeah. Maybe, maybe this summer. We’ll do it this summer.” 

He nodded but still didn’t look at the girl. 

They both knew he wasn’t going to make it till this summer. 

Shaking his head, he came back to reality. Well, their make-believe reality anyways. 

His voice was soft. “So, uh, we ride the ferris wheel. Then what?”

“Um, well…” She pushed her hand through her hair. Struggling to find words to continue the story. Her mind had gone back to the much darker reality from their make believe world. The girl sighed and took his hand again, this time it was her turn to look out the window. 

“Uh, listen. I’m, I’m sorry... I’m sorry that you can’t actually come and eat cheesecake, or deep fried oreos and crap, and- and that the park is so far away. And that this- none of this, is ever going to come close to actually being able to actually go out and do all of it, or even just coming back to school, and I’m sorry that I-”

“Shut up.” 

“What?” 

“Yeah.” He said. He fiddled with the edge of his blanket. “Shut up! Do you think I enjoy being cooped up in this hospital? Being poked and prodded, and left alone all day? I live every day having everyone feel sorry for me, I don’t need sympathy from you too.”

He sighed and she wiped away a tear that had dripped down her cheek. His voice softened.

“Don’t you think I want to go back to school? Gosh, I sound ridiculous, but I want nothing more than to have homework- and to try out for the swim team, or go to movies or the park, or just be a dumb teenager? I’m seventeen for goodness sake! I should be out going to parties, and driving around town, and taking the ACTs, and, and taking you to Prom! Not taking medication, and getting tested and having treatments, and, and balding! So shut up, okay? -please?”

“You want to take me to prom?” She asked tentatively.

“Yes! I want to swirl you around the floor in your dress and your tennis shoes and then mess up your hair and spill punch on your dress and kiss you behind the lockers while hiding from the chaperones.”

A hint of a smile crept across her face and she wiped away another tear. He brushed away the hair that had fallen in her face and let his fingers rest by her cheek.

“This. This is the best part of my day. When you come in here and tell me the dumb thing that one kid did in history, or the new song you’re playing in band. Or you tell me what your grandma did during sunday dinner and I tell you what the nurses did during my checkup. And especially, especially when you come and make up these dumb stories. These fantasies of things we go do, memories we’d create.” He chuckled and pulled her hands down into his lap. “Honestly, that one where we robbed the ice cream shop and ran from the police is still my favorite.” 

She smiled. “Yeah- I had to be kinda creative with that one.” 

“So please-” he squeezed her hands. “-please don’t apologize or feel sorry. Or think that what you come and do here every day isn’t enough. Because like usual, I’ve come to expect it as part of this daily routine I’ve got going on. And like usual, it never fails to put a smile on my face, and make me laugh.” 

His volume lowered and the boy leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. “I don’t want to think of a day when I don’t get to see your nerdy face, and hear these dumb stories and, and hold your hand, okay. Okay?”

She nodded. “Me too.” 

But she would have to think of that day. She was the one who’d eventually have to stop coming to see him. The one who’d have to let him go. 

But like usual, she’d keep coming in here every day until that happened- eventually. And like usual, she’d sacrifice her time, and her emotions to be there for him. To keep him strong until he couldn’t be there anymore.

She heaved a sigh, choked back a sob, and pressed her hand against the back of his neck, pulling them closer together.

Her voice was shaky but her words were clear. 

“You all good?” She asked.

He nodded. “Like usual.”

- - -

Why do I write stuff that’s sad? So I wrote this like, at the end of last year. And thought I’d bring it back and edit it and post it and stuff. It’s not related to anything, just a weird little drabble, that, that gave me the feels ngl. So sorry--- but not really I guess. @imagination1reality0

[andiandyandee]

Run from What’s Comfortable

Virgil gets his first tattoo, and Logan is not pleased. (Oh and we get some Logan Tragic Backstory)

This is part of my Parental Logince Punk AU! Which exists now lmao.

I’m gonna tag @princemesscharming and @datfearlessfangirl since they seemed very interested in this but if y’all don’t want tagged in future stuff let me know. If anyone wants tagged ALSO let me know :)

He’re the links to other works in this AU

Last Words: Part 1 and Part 2

And here’s the series on Ao3

3321 words

Okay here’s the fic

Virgil and his Papa had their first actual fight when he was fifteen. They had plenty of small, meaningless fights in his life, but this was the first one that didn’t end with an apology, a coffee, and a quiet conversation.

    “What does it even MATTER? I’m fifteen, it’s not like I’m a child anymore. YOU had tattoos when you were fifteen!”

    “Yes, I did, and it was stupid when I DID IT TOO.”

    “So what, I’m stupid then? Just because none of us are as smart as you doesn’t mean we aren’t smart, Logan.” He said the name like it was an insult. There was an anger reflected in the blue eyes the two shared.

    “Excuse me?  I have never once said you, your brother, or your father were anything of the sort. You’re right. You’re fifteen years old, and you need to stop acting like a CHILD. You don’t get to throw a tantrum every time you don’t get your way. And you certainly don’t get to SNEAK OUT and do whatever you want when your father and I tell you NO.”  Logan could feel the dull pounding at the back of his head, indicating this particular conversation was going to give him a migraine. “Go bandage that- whatever it is- and go to your room, Virgil. I am not having this conversation right now. You can speak with Roman when he gets home.”

    Virgil deflated at that. Papa very, very rarely used his actual first name. It was something they had agreed upon when Virgil had turned 13. He wanted a nickname, something that felt less formal and nerdy. Papa hadn’t understood, but agreed anyway, and had called him nothing but ‘Virge’ or ‘Vee’ since. He was too mad to see the way Logan has started to go pale.

    “You know what? No. I won’t go to my room. Either stand here and have this conversation now, or I’m leaving. I’ll go stay with Dee or something.” Logan winced at that.

    “Virge-”

    “NO. Either talk to me or I’ll go! I’ll call him right now.” Logan closed his eyes for a second, then nodded.

    “If you’d rather stay with your cousin than cease the conversation, then by all means, go pack a bag. I’ll make the call and drop you off.” Logan turned to his phone, sitting on the table. He didn’t want Virgil to see the way tears were welling up in his eyes, or the way his hands shook when he dialed the number. Virgil stood there, dumbfounded for a moment, then nodded slowly and went to his room. He grabbed the pile of clothes that were folded on his bed- probably Papa’s doing- and shoved them in his bookbag. He pulled on his boots and grabbed his jacket and hoodie off the door, and stomped back down the stairs. He didn’t look up when he passed Logan, who was still on the phone, and went to sit in the car. When Logan came out, still in his work clothes, his eyes were red. His jaw was set as if he knew if he opened it he would say something he would regret, and he started the car with the only words he said being, “Seat belt. Now.” Virgil complied. Nothing was said for 25 minutes, Virgil staring at his phone, so he was surprised when they pulled up to a tattoo shop. Not the one Virgil had gotten his tattoo at, which was more like someone’s garage, but an actual, proper tattoo shop. Logan got out, went inside, and was talking with the person at the desk, who looked to be in their late twenties, early thirties. Much too young to have been one of Papa’s friends, but possibly Dee’s age. The person behind the counter gave Logan a bag, and Logan handed them some money, and they both laughed at something. Logan’s smile was gone by the time he got back into the car, settling into the stoic, neutral look that Virgil knows is reserved for when he’s trying to avoid any emotions whatsoever.

    Logan dropped the bag and a sheet of paper onto Virgil’s lap. He said nothing, and pulled back out onto the road and drove the rest of the way to Dee’s house in total silence. Virgil didn’t look at the jar until after Logan’s blue sedan pulled out of the driveway. Dee was standing next to Virgil, a hand on his shoulder, and wasn’t saying anything either. The jar said Hustle Butter, but there was also a bottle of the same brand that said hustle bubbles.

    “Dee, what the hell is this stuff?” Virgil asked, finally cutting through the very stiff silence. Dee looked at it, snorting a bit.

    “It’s for your tattoo. There’s probably a care sheet, too. You need to take care of tattoos differently than you would regular skin. That’s a good brand, you shouldn’t have any problems.”

    “Why would he buy these for me? He didn’t want me to get the thing anyway.”

    Dee pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s just get you cleaned up and find something to eat, Virge.”

***

    Once Logan got home, he collapsed onto the floor next to the front door. He tucked his knees up to his chest and rested his head on them. He didn’t hear his younger son approach, but he could see the shiny holographic boots that had become a staple of the kid’s fashion for the last decade. “Hello, Patton. Am I in your way?”

    “Papa, what happened?” The teenager asked. Patton, who was 14, spoke much softer than his brother. “Virge isn’t texting me back, Dad sounded really mad when I called him, and you look terrible.” Logan laughed a little at that.

    “Unfortunately, that is my fault, Pat. Virgil came home with a tattoo today, after sneaking out last night to get it, and we may have gotten into a bit of an argument.” Logan sighed. “I lost my temper and yelled at him, and he told me he wanted to go to your cousin’s house, so I dropped him off there. You know Dee has a thing about using cell phones all day, so Virgil’s phone is likely off. Roman is angry with me, not with you.” The front door slammed open, and Roman stood there, looking livid.

    “Damn right I’m angry with you. How could you just LET HIM GO TO DEE’S HOUSE”

    “Dad, I don’t think-”

    “No, Patton, it’s okay, he has a right to be angry”

    “But Papa-”

    “Puffball, can you go to your room? We need to talk about this.”

    “Wait- will you just-”

    “Patton, please just-”

    “WILL YOU LISTEN TO ME?” Patton screeched, much to the surprise of both of his fathers. They nodded. “Virgil needed to be away from the house. While maybe Papa shouldn’t have agreed to it so quickly, Virge was going to end up there one way or another. You both behaved irrationally today, and you can both apologize tomorrow. For now, Papa, you need to go get a shower, take your migraine meds, and change into more comfortable clothes. You look like you’re going to pass out. Dad, you need to put your work stuff down and call Dee, and make sure Virge is alright. And I need to work on homework, so if you could avoid yelling for like, 45 minutes, that’d be very helpful.” Patton smiled at them. “Okay? One-two-three- BREAK!”

***

    “He called me STUPID, Dee. To my FACE”

    “I’m sure that’s exactly what he said, Virge.”

    “He had tattoos when he was my age!”

    “The tattoo that almost cost him his hand, or the one he got covered up three years later? Oh, wait, both of those he got when he was your age. How peculiar that he wouldn’t want you to get them, then.”

    “He did not almost lose his hand because of a tattoo.”

    “Yes, he did. He told me that story when I got my first tattoo. His first tattoo was on his wrist, you’ve seen it, I’m sure. It’s that weird faded grey bit of skin that pokes out from behind his watch that looks a lot like a bunch of scar tissue.  It got infected, because he got it done by some rando in a garage somewhere, and he didn’t tell anyone. By the time Uncle Roman and Dad convinced him to see a doctor, the Staph had basically eaten all of the ink, and it took like, nine rounds of antibiotics before it went away. They were worried the scar tissue would permanently make his left hand impossible to use without pain. He’s very lucky he didn’t die.”  Dee sighed and adjusted his beanie. “I know what it’s like to be a fifteen-year-old and want to rebel, but Uncle Lo was right that this was VERY STUPID. Not that YOU are stupid, but that you did a stupid thing. And I know, that you hate yelling or being talked down to, but I really do think you were in the wrong, here.” Dee sighed.

***

    “Virgil is okay. Dee showed him how to wash his tattoo with the stuff you bought him.” Roman sat down on the bed, next to Logan. “That was a smart thing to do.”

    “My arm still hurts from mine. I wouldn’t want him to go through that if it can be avoided.”

    “Lo-”

    “No, Roman. I was in the wrong. Virgil may not be a child, but he isn’t an adult either, and I treated him unfairly.”

    “You were worried, and you have a temper when people ignore you. Virge knows that, I know that, and Patton knows that.” Logan laughed a little

    “God, Patton today. He’s going to have my temper too, isn’t he? You should have been the one to sire those little monsters.”

    “Remus and I have the same DNA, and he made Dee. You really think if they were biologically mine they’d be any better?” There was a knock on the door, then, and Patton stuck his head in.

    “So, If we’re airing out things we did without permission should I mention I have a belly-button piercing?” Logan slammed his head into his pillow and screamed for a second before mumbling,

    “I absolutely did not hear that.”

    Patton giggled and lifted up his shirt, showing a noticeably non-pierced navel to Roman with a wink, mouthing ‘little monsters’ with an eye-roll. “Papa, do you want a coffee? I’m going to run across the street.

    Get him an iced caramel whatever. Take a long time, will you?” Roman grinned at the teenager who immediately turned red and sprinted out of the room.

    “Great, now you’ve traumatized him.” Logan deadpanned, laying his head on Roman’s shoulder. “Please tell me my fourteen-year-old did not get a back alley piercing.”

    “He didn’t. I’m guessing that was his revenge for you ignoring him.” Logan groaned and laid down, his head in Roman’s lap. “Lo, you know Virge loves you, right? This isn’t going to change anything.”

    “I.. don’t want to be like them. Like.. my parents were.” Logan admitted quietly. “I never want our kids to resent me like my brother and I resented them.”

    “Woah Woah Woah. You got in ONE fight with Virgil. He’ll stomp around Dee’s house for the weekend, and when he gets home, you will drink coffee and apologize, and he will too, and you will both be fine. This isn’t the same, Lo. You aren’t like them.”

    “I hope not,” Logan mumbled. Finally letting himself cry. “I miss him, Ro. I know I shouldn’t have let Virgil go. But the whole thing was just like-”

    “I know, starlight. This isn’t going to end like that, though.”

    “Okay.” Logan’s voice was small and scared. “Can you go get Patton? I don't like him being out of the house.”

    “Of course. I’ll be back soon.”

***

    Virgil was playing music loudly in Dee’s basement, pretending like he was justified in his anger. He was in a ratty old misfits shirt, one he had probably stolen from Dee years ago, and a pair of basketball shorts, and was about 45 minutes into a workout that he knew would leave him aching and too tired to be angry when it was over. He kicked the bag again, singing along to the Dead Kennedys song and pretending like it wasn’t something Papa had shown him. He went to swing at the bag for what was nearly the hundredth time when someone snickered from the stairs. Virgil missed the bag completely, throwing himself forward and landing face forward on the mat. The person on the stairs howled, and Virgil turned to glare at them. Standing on the bottom step was Remus, who had a book under one arm and a towel in his hand.

    “Okay kid, time to stop the workout. We’re having a chat .” Virgil rolled his eyes and was promptly hit in the face with the towel.

    “What do you want? I know, Papa was just trying to protect me from doing the same dumb shit he did. I don’t care.”

    “Yeah, I know you don’t care. Hence, the chat.” Remus said with a sigh. “Come sit down, you goddamn emo nightmare.”

    “I’m taking that as a compliment.” Virgil did as he was told. Remus opened the book he was holding, which Virgil now recognized as a photo album. “Why are we reminiscing? I already know the story about the stupid tattoo he got.”

    “No, you don’t. And that doesn’t matter, really. But actually, I wanted to show you them first.” Remus turned to a dog eared page towards the middle, and suddenly, staring back at Virgil was a punk kid with his exact face, save for this kid had a black eye, and a garbage bag taped around his wrist. The kid had a smirk Virgil would recognize anywhere. This was unmistakably Logan, at fifteen years old. He was wearing a social distortion tour t-shirt with the sleeves torn off, black jeans, and what looked like the most worn-out pair of Doc Martens Virgil had ever seen. The picture below it was of the tattoo itself, crudely done with poor linework and blown-out lines everywhere. It said ‘Do better’. That was it. Virgil raised an eyebrow at his uncle, who had a small smile on his face. “He was so pleased with himself when he got that stupid tattoo done. He wanted a reminder to not be like your grandparents.” Remus nodded, to himself obviously, and turned the page. There were seven photos on the spread, the first being Logan flipping the camera off from a hospital bed, pale and looking like he was about to keel over. The second was Logan with his shirt off, and some guy tattooing his shoulder. The pictures didn’t look like they were taken very far apart.

    “He got another tattoo after almost dying from the first one?” Virgil asked incredulously, looking at his uncle for confirmation. Remus snorted.

    “As a celebration for not dying from the first one. He took much better care of that one, to be fair.” The tattoo was of what looked like a bird, probably a crow, but it was hard to tell.

    “He doesn’t have a bird tattoo there. Isn’t that where he has the tree?”

    “Ro and I paid for him to get it covered up for his 18th birthday. He took good care of it but it still looked like a flaming bag of garbage.” Remus laughed

    “Why are you showing me these, anyway. I know he doesn't like his parents and I know he picked a shitty artist and got sick. That doesn’t change that he literally just let me leave because he didn’t want to deal with me. It didn't change that he called me stupid.” Virgil crossed his arms.

    “I’m getting there, kid.” Remus bumped his shoulder into Virgil’s and turned a few pages forward in the book. There was Logan again, now in a misfits t-shirt and what looks like the same jeans as before. Sporting a gnarly bruise on his jaw and a split lip. He had a grin and a backpack slung over one shoulder, and from the way he was holding his arms apart, Virge could see the scarring on his wrist, meaning this was taken after the tattoo incident. Virgil looked at the t-shirt he was wearing. It was almost certainly the same one, with the same bleach stain on the left sleeve. “This picture was taken about an hour after Logan ran away from home,” Remus said quietly. “For the first time, anyway.”

    “Did he do that a lot?” Virgil asked with an eyebrow raise

    “No. He only ran away three times, the last time he left home was because they kicked him out.” Remus shrugged. “But this time was important because he left after having the same argument with his dad that you just had with him. Well, kind of. Logan’s dad somehow didn’t know about the tattoos until he walked into Lo’s room while Logan was changing. Pretty hard to hide a big ink stain when you’re topless.” Remus shrugged. “His old man told him it was irresponsible, he was too young, blah blah blah. You know the drill. Of course, Logan was an asshole as a teenager, so he argued that he wasn’t a kid, that he was old enough to make those decisions, whatever. His dad told him he wasn’t going to have this conversation, that he could take it up with his mother- you’ve met her, she was definitely the worse of the two. Logan told him off, and when his dad still wouldn’t talk, he left. He stayed with us for probably three weeks before he got the call that his brother-”

    “Papa has a brother?”

    “Had. He had a brother. He was older, and had the same sort of temper you and your Papa share.” Remus sighed. “When he had found out why Logan had left, he got pissed and went to go pick Logan up from our place. He wrapped his car around a tree, and never made it out of the O.R. Logan went home after that.”

    “Oh god, did his parents blame him?”

    “No, no, of course not. Your grandparents weren’t good people, Virge, but they knew that argument was as much their fault as it was Logan’s. But Logan blamed himself, and that was enough.” Remus sighed. “I know it doesn’t excuse his actions, but I think, maybe, that the argument you two got into probably brought up a lot of difficult and angry feelings. Logan isn’t a robot. And when he gets upset, he says things that he doesn't mean, and the things he says don't always come out the way he intends them.”

    “Yeah, okay, I get it. I acted like a jerk and I need to apologize.”

    “Nah. You acted like a teenager. You DO need to apologize though. But not tonight. Tonight, we’re watching all of the Saw movies and eating way too much pizza.”

***

    Eventually, Virgil went home, and apologized, and pretended to not notice how puffy Logan’s eyes were, despite the fact that it had been two days, and made him and Papa coffee. Logan apologized too, and told Virgil the tattoo did look cool, even if he should have waited another 9 months to get it done professionally, and they talked about what Virgil had done with Dee, and Logan pretended to not notice the way Virgil kept glancing at the scar on his wrist that was for the first time in years not covered up by his watch. And when Virgil hugged him and whispered. ‘You are better, Papa.’ Logan most definitely did not cry, and Virgil did not cry, and Roman did not give Patton the $15 he now owed the kid, and Patton did not snap a picture to add to his own photo album.

[megs-writing]

Y’allsehood

Ships: Logicallity, Analogical Warnings: Supernatural powers, violent unsympathetic Remus, abusive relationship (creativitwins), beating, major character death (referenced), weapons, referenced mass shootings, dark magic/hallucinations, drinking, sympathetic Virgil, (if I need to add anything to the warnings please let me know!)  Characters: Logan, Patton, Virgil, Remy, Remus, Roman (referenced- Character!Thomas) Word count: 2739 Thank you @stop-it-anxiety for beta reading! (and starting this whole trainwreck. It’s great) 

 The town felt oddly familiar, too similar to the one Logan moved away from to start all over here. He blended in with everyone busying around and getting to wherever it was they needed to go. His horse slowed down to a careful trot and he moved through the crowd. In his old town the rich got around with horses and carriages, but this didn’t seem to be the case here. Most got around on foot, which helped make the town look less crowded when traveling though it but made it harder for Logan to make sure no one was standing in front of his so he wouldn’t crash into anyone. A horrible first impression of the soon to be new sheriff. 

This place has been without any sort of law system for around a month now since the death of the old sheriff, who had lost a fight and was practically beaten to death by the town’s best criminal. It wasn’t the beating that killed him but the shot right after, but that didn’t matter now. What mattered is that he was dead and not what it was that killed him. What mattered is that Logan was there now and was able to help, no matter what it took. Even if he had to go through the same painful death Thomas did. Despite what everyone said he wasn’t scared like he was supposed to be. That’s what made him such a good sheriff, he didn’t believe in fear. He didn’t believe he could feel any sort of fear anyway. It felt unnatural not to flinch when a gun was pointed at him, but that’s what happened. There was no way of explaining it. 

Crofters was tied to the fence of the house he would be staying in for a while with his partner he had yet to meet, Patton. Thomas’ old deputy, and now his. He’s heard the name plenty of times going through the town mixed in with his own. He heard Patton was nice. Almost too nice, and let people get away with a little more than what they were supposed to. Thomas was the same way he heard, but that was going to change fast now that he was here. No one is going to get away with hurting people because the law is too scared to fight them. Sure, Thomas wasn’t scared in the moment. Look where that got him. He became the reason everyone was scared. 

_ _ _ _ _ 

Logan and Patton traveled by foot to blend in with the rest of the town. This place seemed much bigger than his old home, and there were many more shops and restaurants and theatres to go to if anyone had some time to kill on a normal day. The two of them were stopped at a bulletin board posted in the center of town, with plenty of random papers stapled to the board from places wanting to hire, missing posters, and the town's most wanted. All of the posters could already be seen splattered on walls and posts and trees, and this was just another reminder those same famous criminals existed. The face he saw in most places was Remus. That same picture with his crazy smile and clown-ish looking outfit printed in black and white all over. The same poster was stapled multiple times on the board mixed in with the rest of them. 

MOST WANTED: 

REMUS SANDERS “DUKE”

Charged with:

-Kidnapping and abuse of Roman Sanders

-Killing over 100 passengers on a stolen train

-Contributions to the black market

-Seriously this guy killed like 50 people just riding through town just turn him in plz.

REWARD: $150,000 

“One hundred fifty thousand…” Logan stares at the picture, the Duke’s wild hair and crazy smile printed into the paper nailed to the board in the center of town. “No wonder this town was in need of a sheriff. This guy probably killed the last one.” 

“Aren’t you scared?” Patton asks, Logan’s new assigned deputy. They had met only a few hours ago, and decided to spend time together walking through town to help Logan get more familiar with the city and get to know his partner better before going into official business. 

“Scared of what?” 

“Getting killed?”

“Well, he hasn’t killed me yet, has he?” The picture on the poster amused him- how Remus looked exactly like a cliche criminal in the movies, mostly the moustache and cowboy hat that set him off like that. And his costume, like some sort of cowboy-clown. Logan takes the poster from the board and folds it, then slides it into his pocket to use for later. 

“You know what happened to the last sheriff, right?” Patton’s voice was soft, watching the reflections in Logan’s glasses. He remembered everything. How much the other sheriff fought the beating and ended up shaking on the ground. And Remus finally put a bullet in his chest. Maybe he would have had some mercy if he hadn’t fought back so much. The two had always pushed each other to their limit until then, and Patton was there for all of it. He witnessed his death, but Remus didn’t know until he was charged of murder and Patton testified against him. He broke out of jail, and everyone was too scared to try him again. 

“Of course,” Logan adjusted his glasses and let out a breath, starting to reimagine the story Patton had told him before. “And that’s why I need this job. I’m sorry for your old friend by the way, you guys were close.” 

_ _ _ _ _  

Logan snuck out again around 10:00 after Patton had gone to bed, just to explore town again on his own and go into the things he was most curious about and could be most helpful to his work. The only thing they had done the first time was walk as Patton rambled about what there was to do here and all the people he knows and stories that came from certain buildings he liked to spend time in. Now he was alone, using his hat to help him blend in with the crowd and using the shadows after sunset to his advantage for blending in. Maybe a few people recognized him, but it was unlikely considering he hasn’t even started his job yet and since more people were here it was harder to tell when someone new came along. Less people crowded the streets at night, so at least he didn’t have to worry about moving through people anymore.  

The only thing still open this late was a small tavern across from where Patton and Logan had found Remus’ poster. It looked fairly empty from what he could see, which wasn’t much of a surprise since most people drank during the day and started to go home once the sun began to set. From the window, he could see it was dim and uncrowded, with only one or two people at the counters and no one sitting at the tables or dancing. 

All eyes turned on him, all eyes being only two. The man behind the counter looked up immediately as if he already recognized the man who walked in. The other slowly turned once he saw his friend was staring at something and met eyes with Logan as soon as he did. Both men dressed a bit strange, one of them wearing a purple vest- purple being an extremely rare color for clothes where he was from- with smoke-colored bags under his eyes, and the other wore a leather jacket with a dark blue skirt that went down to his boots. The first one looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right words in the moment. Logan was the first one to speak up. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt. I’m new here, I’m just exploring to get more familiar with the town.” 

“You’re Logan?” The man in purple finally spoke, quickly changing the topic from whatever Logan was about to say. 

“...Why does that matter?” 

“Your name’s been going around like wildfire. We saw you walking with Patton out there a while ago. It’s not that hard to connect the dots.” The man gestured to the open seat next to him, inviting Logan to come sit with the two of them. “May I offer you a drink?” 

“I shouldn’t. I have a big day tomorrow.” 

“Then come sit with us and tell us what you’ve learned so far.” Logan didn’t move. “You’re gonna be sheriff, you gotta know your stuff. Do you know any of the top criminals here? You’ll be working against them.” Logan reached in his pocket for the flyer and tossed it at the counter in front of Virgil. 

“Remus Sanders. Worth $150,000 dead or alive. The average criminal is like 50 or 60 thousand.” 

“He killed a lot of people,” Remy said. “Important people too. That’s why you’re here.” Virgil never said anything, but kept staring at the picture and re-reading the words on the flyer. Virgil slams the flyer back down to the table. 

“How long do you really think you’re gonna last here? Be honest.” 

“If all goes well I plan on staying until retirement.” Virgil went quiet. “Listen you might not believe me right now but I’ve done this before and I can do it again. This guy isn’t any different than anyone else I’ve arrested. With me here now all of this is gonna stop. I’m not gonna let it keep going.” 

“Why should I believe you?” 

“It’s my job. Someone has to do it.” Virgil tried not to look at his smile. “Things are gonna change here.” 

_ _ _ _ _

The real first day Remus was the only thing set on Logan’s mind. Town’s most wanted. Most wanted. As his days in the new town grew he learned more and more about the highest criminal. No one was able to arrest him, and everyone who tried didn’t make it. Even if they could, Remus seemed like someone that could break out in a matter of days. Still, all the chaos he was bringing had to be ended somehow. He heard stories of his brother, the only one of his victims that didn’t end up buried in the ground. His mind wandered as the horse sped up, starting to make him lose balance. The grip on Crofter’s saddle grew tighter fighting against the wind as his mind returned to the dirt path in front of him and his horse. 

The image that was in his mind came to life as they pulled up closer to the scene they were heading towards. The two were called to handle one of Remus’ episodes with his brother. Past the train tracks, Remus had his brother tied to a thin tree with rope. No weapons were seen, yet the prince appeared like he had been mentally beaten. Defeated. Normally the crimes involving his twin were ignored since no one is killed in the crime, and most were too afraid to involve themselves in the Duke’s presence. 

Logan thought differently about letting him get away with it, whatever he was doing to him. Maybe he was scared knowing the Duke had magic unlike normal humans. No one knows where they came from, and only Roman had been able to witness it and survive. Yet he kept quiet. No one seemed to blame him for it either. Virgil had seen a glimpse of what he could do and bailed before anything could happen. He described darkness taking over everything in his vision, and controlled hallucinations in the corner of his eyes, then he escaped and hadn’t seen Remus in person since. They talked about his powers, and Logan got the whole story when he made himself heard to the boy behind the counter dressed in purple leather and dark eyeshadow surrounding his eyes. Makeup looking similar to Remus’ on the paper he stole off the town’s Most Wanted board. 

The two horses had slowed down to a halt on the other side of the tracks. From a distance, it didn’t look like much, in comparison to the other things Remus has done anyway. The scene was exactly how they had been told. The victim was tied to a tree, no longer trying to escape, and there weren’t any weapons being used, though from a distance you could see weapons hiding in the Duke’s pockets in his costume. This was the first time Logan had seen Remus in person. Real. Not just some story that had been told to him in the tavern by local drunkards. Real criminal, real crime. Though no magic had been seen where Remus and his brother had been standing. That was the hardest part for Logan to believe. 

Patton seemed a little more on edge than usual. He stared at the Duke, watching his smooth gestures toward the prince in fear of what he was saying to him unaware of the law’s presence behind them. Patton had dealt with the Duke’s chaos before, only he was the one to live. The past sheriff didn’t live, and that fact didn’t scare Logan as much as it should have. Not at the time anyway. 

Without saying a word, Logan swung off his horse and tied it to another thin tree close to Patton’s. Patton stayed still, silent, They addressed the plan beforehand when Patton protested coming up to Roman’s rescue, so Patton wouldn’t have to interact with the Duke unless he had to. The fear was real, even if it had to be part of the job. Logan walked past the train tracks, pulling a gun from his belt to use if he needed to. He held it beside him so Remus wouldn’t see it as a threat straight to him, but still see the weapon to know not to do anything stupid. 

“Excuse me, are you Remus?” The man ignored him, continuing his business with the man dressed in red. There was no mistaking him even from behind. His outfit, that made him look like a lime green clown more than anything. When no response came Logan repeated himself. “Mr. Sanders, we need to talk.” No response. After a moment Logan reached into his belt for his gun, then fired a warning shot that moved just pass his head, just enough to get him to turn around and acknowledge the sheriff behind him. 

“You’ve got a nerve.” Remus turns, reaching for throwing stars in his shirt pocket in case he needed to use them on his intruder. “...Sheriff? Oh, they must have hired a new one.” 

“Sorry to interrupt, but I’m afraid playtime is over. Time to let him go.” 

“Who told you to come up here?” 

“There was a report of a goblin harassing a young prince. I have reason to believe that’s you.” The Duke stopped, taking slow steps toward the sheriff. “This is only a warning. Let him go and we can all move on with our lives, if you protest I have right to arrest.” 

“Arrest me?” The Duke laughs. “You haven’t heard the stories, have you?” 

“I have. I believe you haven’t seemed to hear anything of me before.” The Duke waited for him to continue. “I don’t have fear. That’s what made me so good in my old town. Must be some sort of magic like yours.” 

“That explains it. To come here during brother’s playtime you must be crazy or have a death wish. You seem to be the first one, crazy.” Logan stuttered at the strange nickname he was given. Remus isn’t a normal criminal. Well, he found that on the first day exploring town with Patton. Most criminals he worked with before never used any cute nicknames. “You know about my magic?” The cheer in the Duke’s voice was strange, interested in whatever it was Logan was about to say. 

“I’ve heard stories…” A wave of darkness takes over the nature surrounding the three until the only thing Logan would see was the green and black figure standing in front of him. Remus. 

“Don’t believe in magic, do ya? Not before anyway.” Logan never moved. Remus reached in his pocket and pulled out a knife and made a cutting motion where the prince was once standing, pointing over to where Patton would be standing if it were for the cloud of darkness blocking his vision. 

Taglist: @winterrs-child @remusthedukeofdeodorant @thecatchat @stop-it-anxiety @znikitrash @awkwardandanxiousfander @nowletmeseeyourkezzhands @prox-xima @hela-daughter-of-loki @arcticfrostdoesthings @id-rather-go-live-in-a-trash-can @soupgromlin

[neo-couture]

je t’aime

Over the past few weeks, Ten noticed you acting more sullen and sluggish, dragging yourself around your apartment and often plopping onto your couch or bed with a loud sigh. You often seemed distracted and smiled far less than you had before. Ten asked if you were okay and you said yes, but he didn’t buy it. But one night after he had thought you had fallen asleep, he heard sniffling from your side of the bed. When he turned to you, he noticed your eyes were brimming with tears.

“Y/N?” When you noticed him, you quickly wiped your eyes with your sleeves and shrugged it off, but Ten persisted. “Please tell me what’s wrong, baby.” It was difficult for your to get it out between hiccups and sobs, but Ten was able to piece together that you were feeling sad, missing your home and your family and friends in Montreal. You mentioned feeling conflicted, torn between your new home and your family in Montreal. You had moved to Korea for worked and had decided to stay, eventually meeting Ten which further solidified your decision, but you missed your family and wanted them here with you. He held you close, you head tucked under his chin as he stroked your hair. Your crying eventually subsided and you fell asleep wrapped up in him.

His heart ached for you, and he understood how hard it was being away from home. Especially when he first moved to pursue a music career, he missed his friends and family terribly. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d called his parents, crying over something or nothing. Eventually it got easier, with help, of course, and it sparked an idea. He rested his chin on your head, your soft breaths lulling him to sleep, dreaming up a plan to make you feel at home.

--

Ten hadn’t realize just how much French food there was out there. He’d picked up on some of your favourites: macarons and crème brulee, which he also loved, and these things called madeleines. Or madelines. Or something. He also found some other classic French foods he thought to try: beef bourguignon and escargot. Which were apparently snails. He wrinkled his face in disgust but was committed to making this a very special dinner for you.

After reviewing several recipes, scattered all around him on the couch, he realized with a great deal of pain, that he probably couldn’t do this on his own. He needed someone who could cook, and cook well. And so with great difficulty, he decided to call Kun.

--

Kun came over right away, looking smug as he passed through the door. Ten needed his help desperately and so he tried to refrain from teasing and bullying Kun, but it was incredibly difficult. Kun noticed this and certainly didn’t make it any easier for Ten.

“This? This is a measuring cup, okay? You use it to measure things. Like water. Water is that stuff you drink from that tap. You with me?” Kun said. Ten could tell the other was on the verge of laughing, and he sighed deeply, keeping his bratty comments to himself.

“Whatever. Let’s just do this, ‘kay? It has to be perfect for Y/N.”

--

After a long day of work, you closed your apartment door behind you and slumped against it. It wasn’t that work was bad, it was just harder getting through the days when your heart ached. Between the culture shock, the time difference, and just missing home, it was hard to stay focused work when all you wanted to do was hug your parents.

To your surprise, Ten came to greet you at the front door, arms open and welcoming you into a hug.

“Bonjour!” Ten exclaimed, kissing you on both cheeks. You cocked an eyebrow, trying to keep from laughing.

“Tu parle francais?” you asked.

“Huh?”

You chuckled. “Nothing. What’s with the French?”

He smiled and grabbed you hand, intertwining your fingers. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you in for a kiss.

“I know you’ve been missing home lately, I get it. So I just thought since you can’t be in Montreal, I’ll bring Montreal to you.” You smiled fondly at him, tears pricking behind your eyes.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Ten shrugged, pretending to be cocky but you could see the faint flush on his cheeks.

“I’ve prepared some classic French dishes to give you a taste of home. Beef boringyawn, escargot. Did you know that that’s snails? Crazy. Macarons and madelines.” He led you into the kitchen to the fancy spread he had set out for you; candles, a tablecloth, and napkins folded into what you assumed were birds. “French cooking is complicated, I had to get Kun to help,” he grumbled.

“You asked Kun for help?”

“It nearly killed me, but yes.” Tugging him by his hand you gave him a quick kiss, stroking his cheek.

“This is wonderful, Ten. Thank you. It really means the world to me.” He kissed you again, smiling.

“You mean the world to me,” he said. “Now, what do you say we enjoy this nice meal? Bon apetit as they say?”

Ten pulled out your chair for you and began serving you. You had to admit, it wasn’t half bad, and the beef “boringyawn” was perfect. You didn’t have the heart admit to Ten that you didn’t actually like escargot, though, so for his sake, you would try it and pray that it tasted better than what you’ve had.

You both took a bite of the snail at the same time, chewing, before looking at each other and bursting out laughing. Ten spit it into his napkin. “Yeah, I don’t like that,” he chuckled.

“Me neither, if I’m honest. But don’t worry, escargot is hard to do. And it’s certainly an acquired taste.”

You savoured every bite of dinner, making a mental note to repay Ten somehow later, and you felt a warmth spread through you. The kind of feeling you had when you were in Montreal with your family. Looking out across the table at Ten, his face scrunched in confusion as he tried to speak French (“Cett bonn, no?”), you felt like maybe you also had a second family here, with Ten.

Dessert was just as delicious but you looked at Ten, perplexed when he set out maple syrup next to the madeleines. “What’s the maple syrup for?”

“I don’t know. I just saw everywhere that maple syrup is a Canadian staple, so. There it is. Maybe we can dunk the sea shell things in there or something.” You laughed, throwing your head back. If you were being honest, the madeleines were actually pretty damn good with maple syrup.

After your meal, you both retired you your room, stuffed. Ten flopped on the bed and you on top of him, curling around his body. He held you tight, kissing the top of your head.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you so much for doing this for me. I feel so much better. I guess I just needed a little taste of Montreal here,” you muttered into his chest, hand curled up under your chin.

“Of course.” There was comfortable silence as you both recovered from the meal and snuggled against each other. “You know,” Ten started, “I’ve always wanted to go to Montreal. It seems like such a beautiful place. Maybe we could… go together sometime? You could show me around, take me to all your favourite spots. Make a whole thing out of it. What do you think?”

“I would love that,” you said, squeezing him tighter. “I really think you’d love it there.” He hummed in agreement. You propped your chin against his chest and smiled at him, your heart nearly bursting with affection for the man.

“Je t’aime.” Ten smiled.

“What does that mean?”

[leelee10898]

Party in the USA

Hey guys, It's @leelee10898.Ive been MIA from CGW for a while, I miss it so much.. In light of the 4th of July, ive thrown together some squad shenanigans for ya!! I tried my damndest to get this finished yesterday, but no luck... I did a super fast edit, so im sorry, but this shit is gonna be flawed lol.. enjoy.

The Royal Jett touched down in Dulles international airport as the girls squealed in their seats. It was 4th of July weekend and they were excited to share it with their men, since not one of them had ever celebrated the extremely patriotic American Holiday.  "Nothing says 4th of July like celebrating in our nation's capital." Anitah beamed as she stepped off the plane, joining the group who already exited. "Well, you're the queen of Cordonia now, she is your Nation now Love." Liam grinned as he kissed her cheek. "Um no offense Liam, but this will always be our nation." Alicia butted in. "Yeah, 'Merica!" Genevieve pumped her fist. "Merica?" Liam whispered to Drake "yeah. Short for America. Just, go with it Li." Drake shook his head. Pam laughed at her friends "ok Ladies, how about we get settled and go find something to get into."

They opted to rent a house instead of a hotel so they could grill and chill the proper way. "Oh shit, there's a pool, I can't even wait to jump in that later." Alicia smirked as she winked at Leo. "Clothing optional love?" He smirked as Liam rolled his eyes. "Why are you two always naked every trip we take?" Liam huffed as the two shrugged. "Well, we could just start right now." Leo began tugging at his shorts.  "NO!" the group resounded. "Hey guys, I seen a huge fireworks tent down the street. We should go check it out." Maxwell walked outside where the group had converged, a glass of purple liquid in hand. "Maxwell, what do you have there?" Drake eyed him suspiciously. "Just some punch." He shrugged, giving the girls a look.

One by one the girls made their way inside sneaking drinks of maxwell's punch. Once they reached a nice buzz they decided to venture off into DC. They watched a parade, sampled some summertime staples including funnel cake and deep fried oreos. There was a carnival being held and they would have a fireworks display at night fall. "Oh! The zipper. I loved that ride."  They eyed the caged ride "how's your tummy feeling Gen?" Pam gave her a look. "It's good, let's do this shit!"

"Are you sure darling? This doesn't look safe." Rashad voiced his concern.  "Psh, safe shamafe. This shit is indestructible,it's probably like 40 years old." Anitah snorted.

"Yeah because everyone wants to ride a 40 year old death trap. No thanks Brooks." Drake held up his hands and shook his head. "Its ok Drake, I think the ferris wheel is calling our names." Pam winked at her husband,  who then adjusted his pants.

Rashad looked at Genevieve, and then to the zipper swallowing audibly she took his hand and led him towards the ride. "It's gonna be ok Rashad.  Do it for America." She smiled at him.

Maxwell had already been strapped in the seat and moved up Liam and Anitah also already on the ride in a cart halfway up. "Ok this doesn't seem to bad love." Liam leaned back as they slowly made their way up letting others on. "Oh it's great. Just wait until we really get going." She smirked. Liam arched his brow "what does that mean,my queen?"

"So how does this work exactly?" Leo asked Alicia. "Well, we basically go around in a circle, and flip upside down, a lot. You don't have a weak stomach do you Leo?"

"No. I can handle it. Liam on the other hand, he's going to puke or scream. Maybe both." He chuckled. "My money's on both.  Anitah is going to laugh at him." Alicia giggled.

"You know Love, thing we haven't done yet." He gave her the signature Rhys smirk "oh. Shit. Leo." She jerked as she felt his long fingers slip between her legs.

"Gen, love. I'm not so sure about this. Why does it move like that?" Rashad began to panic. "It's supposed to move like that. Just calm down,  it's gonna be so much fun." She patted his leg. "It's supposed to sound like it needs 4 quarts of oil on the rickety old Metal?" Genevieve let out a high pitched squeal. "This is going to be so much fun. If you piss your pants, I will laugh at you." Suddenly the ride jerked and picked up speed, their cart reached the top as it flipped over. Rashad let out a long girlish scream as they plummeted upside down towards the ground.

"Oh my god. Oh my god im gonna diiiiie." Liam screamed as Anitah laughed uncontrollably.  She wasn't sure if it was the thrill of the ride, or Liam's girlish screams but she was definitely enjoying herself. "Oh god. Noooooo. Help me!" He screamed again, joining Rashad in fear stricken symphony.

The ride came to an end Liam ran to the nearest trash can, head inside as he puked.  "Told you he would puke." Leo laughed as Anitah stood next to her husband, giving him a sympathetic pat on the back as the other hand gave him bunny ears for a photo.

A dizzy Rashad stumbled off the ride "see baby. That wasn't so bad." Genevieve looked at Rashad who was pale faced. "That was." He retched  "I just…" His hand flew over his face as he bolted towards the trash can next to Liam.

"Looks like those two couldn't handle the ride huh?" Drake snorted as he and Pam approached the group. "Nope. Hey how come you two didn't ride? Scared Drake?" Alicia teased.  "He wasn't scared. We just, had other plans." Pam blushed as Drake pulled her into his side. "Why are your pants unbuttoned?" Anitah questioned, before going wide eyed in realization. "How about we go back to the house, and get this party started." Leo Spoke up.

"For once, I agree with my brother.  I've had enough of this." Liam spit into the trash can. "Wait. Where's Maxwell?"

"Maxwell.  Max." They called, and he didn't come. "He will find his way back. Lets just go." Drake took Pam's hand "Drake, were in Washington,  not Cordonia how's he going to find his way?" Anitah folded her hands across her chest. "He's like a damn puppy brooks. He will find his way home, now come on." Drake grunted as Anitah finally gave in.

Back at the house Drake and Leo ran to the store, returning a short while later with a few cases of beer and some liquor and wine. Still no sign of Maxwell. "I'm gonna call him." Alicia pulled her phone out and dialed his number, they heard it ringing inside.  "Looks like he left his phone behind." Rashad lifted the phone off the counter. "I hope he is ok. Maybe we should call the police?" Pam worried, it wasn't like Maxwell to stray so far from the group.

Finally Maxwell came sauntering in, hands full of bags.  "Maxwell!" Anitah shouted as she wrapped him in a hug "where the hell have you been?" She slapped his arm. "Ouch, hey little blossom that hurt!" He rubbed his arm "I went to the fireworks tent. Look at all the cool stuff I got. "I'll be taking these." Drake reached out to grab the bags, Maxwell recoiled defensively, clutching the explosives to his chest. "No, these are mine. Don't take my toys away Drake."

"Maxwell, let me see what you have." Leo walked over sorting through the bag. "Um Maxwell,  most of these are illegal in DC. Where did you even get these?" Maxwell smiled, oh I took an Uber to Virginia. "Ok Maxwell. You can have these and these." Liam held him out a box of sparklers and some fountains.  "The rest, were putting up." He handed the bags to Bastian.

"Yeah, can you imagine Maxwell with a damn mortar? He would blow up the damn shed over there." Drake chuckled, and then shook his head.

The night went on, the group getting drunker by the minute.  Liam sat perched up on the steps of the pool, wearing American flag swim trunks and a stars and stripes bandana around his head. "Woooooo 'Merica!" He hollered as the group around him screamed " 'MERICA" back. Genevieve and Anitah danced on the picnic table in their skimpy bikinis, beers in hand. Alicia and Leo were busy in the corner. hands all over each other while Rashad and Maxwell played a game of washers.

"Hey, look what fell out of the bag." Pam beamed as she walked over with a small box. "The singing lotus?" Drake looked at it. "Huh. Looks like it plays the star spangled banner, when you light it." He pulled the content from the box and sat it on the patio next to the pool, carefully lighting the fuse and backing away.

The fireworks began to spin, sparks of red, gold and blue shot from the center while it played a very distorted version of the star spangled banner. "Oh my god. My ears, make it stop." Genevieve shouted as she held her hands over her ears.

Alicia stood up, momentarily stepping away from Leo and began to belt out the song.

Oh, say can you see by the dawn's early light

What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?

Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight,

O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?

Gen and Anitah stopped dancing, and began to sing along. Pam joining in as well.

And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,

Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.

Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

"Play ball!" Anitah and Alicia said in unison. They looked at the burned out dilapidated flower. "Man that was a sad excuse for a firework. " drake mumbled "Just look at it." The group looked down at the melted heap of plastic and soot.

As the night went on and the sun went down, the group were pretty drunk. Pam and Drake disappeared into the pool shed, Anitah and Genevieve continued to dance and sing on the picnic table while Rashad and Liam looked on. Leo and Alicia ended up in the pool together,  while nobody noticed Maxwell had snuck off again. Anitah had convinced Liam to let her paint his face in the American Flag, so he just sat there arm slung over the chair, red white and blue face with a Budweiser in hand.

Rashad started to babble,  staring straight ahead. He made no sense whatsoever and the only thing he could do was point. "Rashad, what the hell are you trying to say. Spit it out." Genevieve snapped. Finally climbing down from the picnic table she stood in front of him waving her hands in front of his face "helllooooo?"  "Shiminag hemmeinah. Ah ma tha…" he babbled.

Suddenly a firework whizzed past Liam's head and exploded against the pool shed. "Run for cover." Liam screamed as he dove into the pool. Rashad still standing there dumbfounded Genevieve tried with all her might to pull him away, but he wouldn't budge. "I love you, but I don't feel like getting blown up." She yelled taking Anita's hand and jumping into the pool.

"What the fuck is going on out here?" Pam snapped as she and a Drake stumbled out of the shed. Another firework crashed into the shed, pam screamed and ran into the pool. Drakes pants fell around his ankles as he tried to run,  he kicked them off and joined his wife in the pool.

Fireworks were flying dangerously low, explosions everywhere as Maxwell sensed the sudden danger and ran for cover under the porch. Alicia and Leo obvious to the Chao ensuing around them, continued to have sex in the corner of the pool. Alicia opened her eyes looking above her. "Leo. I see fireworks." She gasped. "I know baby. I have that effect. " she smirked as he thrust into her. "No, you ass. The fucking back yards a war zone." She tapped his shoulder, and pointed to the disaster area. Leo loomed around the pool, their friends and family screaming. Bastien on the phone with the fire company, deftly ducked under a bottle rocket headed straight for his head. "Beaumont,  when I get my hands on you." Bastien shouted. "Im sorry bas. I didn't mean to light all the fuses." Maxwell shouted back.

Dark smoke plummeted from the pool shed where Pam was giving Drake a blow job, just moments prior. "Hope they got insurance " Leo joked as he and Alicia swam up to the group. Liam rolled his eyes taking not of their nude forms.  "Where the hell are your clothes?" He held back a snicker. He wasn't three sheets to the wind drunk, he would have been more annoyed at the situation at hand.

"Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave…" Alicia began to sing. "This again?" Drake rolled his eyes.  "Just sing along Walker." Pam kissed his lips.

"O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!" The group sang along,  just as the fire company rushed in putting the shed out.

The following Monday Liam walked into the council meeting, shoulders back, head held high. The hushed whispers began to circulate the room as Liam cleared his throat. "Shall we begin?" After the meeting a young council member approached him. "Your majesty, please may I speak freely?" Liam nodded "of course Lord Nicholas. And its Liam."

"Liam. Why Is there a faded Flag on your face?" Liam hung his head and shook it, recalling the past weekend's antics. Sighing loudly, he lifted his head. "Nick. Have you ever been to America on the 4th of July?"

Tag List: @annekebbphotography @carabeth @moneyfordiamonds @give-me-ernest-sinclaire @3pawandme @indiacater @ooo-barff-ooo @ownworldresident @tornbetween2loves @perfectprofessorherokid @stopforamoment @editboutique @wannabemc2 @zaffrenotes @enmchoices @lauradowning29 @lodberg @smalltalk88 @laniquelove-blog @gibbles82 @heatherfilliez @drakesensworld @nikkis1983 @sweetest-marbear @classylady1234 @daniv2278 @rainbowsinthestorm @jared2612 @liamxs-world @notoriouscs @blubutterflyy @captain-kingliamsqueen @whenyourheartskipsabeat @lynne1993 @coldcollectornight08 @be-still-my-aching-heart @kennaxval @the-soot-sprite @hopefulmoonobject @emichelle @cgd03 @kate-mckenzie @mfackenthal @crookedslimecreatorpasta @jemrmax2love @sashatrr @ao719 @cocomaxley @speedyoperarascalparty @riseandshinelittleblossom

[eludin-realm]

You Need Rest - Writing by Eludin Mun

Okay, so notes for this one... a) Vitas makes an appearance in this one! He’s usually so elusive in my pieces but I decided to do a brother type thingy piece b) We’re going to say that DV had maybe just turned 20, in this one, so he may still be in Moonfell Academy, where he learnt swordsmanship. c) I came up with this idea while trying to get to sleep last night. 🤷‍♀️ d) This might be a little bit longer than usual. Yet, short at the same time. Short+long. e) With that out of the way, here’s the thingy under the cut as always! Enjoy?:

DV’s weary red eyes blinked multiple times as he tried to keep them focused on the various things in front of him on the palace’s library table: A textbook filled with various notes, including sword techniques, different sword types, and stance types among others, but more importantly, ways to strike and fight - and also some stapled papers that explained the history of Armskirk and its arena, among other things. He was studying for an important fight at Armskirk’s arena and couldn’t afford to miss a single minute of study - he had to learn anything and everything he could. To win an arena fight against a monster would mean not only an increase in rank of Moonfell Academy, but it would also mean he would of gotten stronger by completing a real, actual task that included an actual battle instead of sparring other swordsmen and swordswomen in the academy. Of course, that gave him experience, too, but this...? This was essential, as monsters roamed almost everywhere in Eludin, especially in Aeredale.  His eyelids eventually found themselves unable to keep open any longer and drooped - he then found himself unintentionally drifting off... Sleep almost overtook him but the dark-clad caught himself and groaned, placing his pen onto the table. With a sigh, he rubbed at his face before his red eyes then redirected themselves at the reading material required, but his mind just... Couldn’t... Stay focused... ... Blink. Blink.  Once again struggling to stay awake, before once more inadvertently dozing off again. And catching himself.  “Ah...” Running a palm through his black locks, DV let out a long exhale before leaning his head back in the chair, placing his arms behind his head, and propping his feet up onto the table. Maybe it would just be better if he took a break instead? Rest his eyes. 30 minutes. Besides, he couldn’t get anything done if he couldn’t stay awake... 30 minutes. Just 30 minutes, DV repeated in his mind. As the fireplace crackled and the clock ticked along, the dark-clad shut his eyes, sleep overtaking him. 

~~~~~~~~~ The door to the library creaking open later on didn’t stir him, though, as another person poked their head in.  “DV?” It was Vitas. His green eyes took a gaze around the room before they fixed upon his younger brother. Approaching the table, he paused to take in all the materials upon it. “Oh...” He stood there for a few seconds, contemplating whether he should leave his sibling be, or wake him. Obviously, this all was for something important, he knew that, however the reason he was asleep could of been because he was tired, but at the same time... Taking a few steps forward, he gave the dark-clad’s shoulder a gentle shake. As expected. the younger male didn’t stir. He was a heavy sleeper after all... The singer then tried again, but more firmly. “DV?” ...And that did it. Now the other was awake, but not looking in Vitas’ general direction; instead, the other way. This caused the singer to frown in concern. “I’m over here,” he said. “You okay?” DV’s brows furrowed for a moment, mind still hazy. “Wait... What time is it?” “It’s... just now 7:00... Ish. Why?” The dark-clad then blinked a few times and sat up, mumbling something about ‘not 30 minutes’, and then looking toward Vitas again. “I, uh... just wanted to rest my eyes is all... I...” Crap, he lost his train of thought. And on top of that, his eyelids were drooping again. “You...?” pressed his sibling, causing DV to blink awake. “Mh.... M’studyin’ for an important fight at Moonfell...important, it’s...tomorrow evenin’, at... at... ahh, Armskirk, in the... the arena...” With a sigh, Vitas reached a palm to place on DV’s shoulder. “Right. You’re not going to be able to fight anything with how tired you are. You need rest. Lots of rest. How long have you been doing this?” “What...? But I... Hell, dunno... Been doin’ it for...Lots’a hours, I guess... ” “That’s what I figured, you were in here for a while... No buts, Dark,” Vitas said, pulling his arm away to fold them both. “You can come back to all this stuff later and review - that’s what notes are for.” “But...!” “No buts,” Vitas repeated himself, eyebrows shot up. “You said you have to go to Armskirk tomorrow evening, right? You’ll have plenty of time to sleep and review this, then, I’m sure. Come on, off to bed.” The dark clad huffed in protest, staring him down before redirecting his weary glance toward his working materials. “No! Just... get me some coffee or energy drinks...” Vitas was going to be just as stubborn. “No, absolutely not,” he refused. “That won’t help at all. Just shut it down and sleep. Come back to it tomorrow, and I can guarantee you’ll feel a lot better. I’ll even help you review if you need it. It’s late anyway.” Wait... Did he just say...? “Tomorrow?! You don’t-no, you don’t... I can’t... you don’t even know anything about what’s...”  Before the young swordsman could finish, he was cut off. “DV, please just sleep,” begged Vitas. “I don’t want to argue with you.” He sucked in a deep breath, knowing that he already was arguing, and exhaled, before continuing. “Alright. Okay. Listen, if you don’t you’re going to miss it altogether. And then you may not have that chance again, and...” There was a silence between the two, as he trailed off, before he spoke up once more, an awkward tone in his voice. “Well, I take that back - you may have a shot at it again, but it may take a while before the opportunity arises. You don’t want to let this big of a thing pass you by, do you? You need to rest. You really do.” More silence rose throughout the room, the only noise being once again the ticking of the clock and the fireplace’s crackling. He was right... when would something this big would come up again? “I want to do the thingy...” DV mumbled in almost a defeated tone. “I know you do. And I want you to, as well. For your sake, so you can learn, and get stronger. But you need sleep,” replied Vitas. “Like I said: There’s no way you will be able to do anything like this.”  DV’s bleary eyes looked toward his brother. Letting out a loud sigh of resignation and annoyance, he gave a little nod.

“Fine. I’ll... I’ll do it. I’ll go lie down. Just... Bookmark my stuff and...and put it up so I don’t lose it and I can come back to it, please?” he requested. With a relieved exhale that all of this was over, Vitas responded. “Mmm. I might and check on you in a few hours, might not. Depends.” "You do whatever you want, but... if... if I fail this test I’m going to hit you...” And with that, DV trudged out of the room. Once the other was gone, Vitas glanced toward the table and began sorting through the various notes and books as he was asked to, giving occasional curious read-overs as he did so. It was a lot of stuff to take in, so he didn’t blame DV for being so absorbed in it, but, why didn’t he take at least a couple breaks? Slipping a bookmark into one of the few remaining textbooks, he placed them away for easy finding later on. Satisfied after cleaning up, he turned and left the room. ...And a couple hours later, Vitas carefully pushed the door open to DV’s bedroom, poking his head in to take a look. He was relieved to see his younger brother in a deep sleep, sprawled all out across the bed. With a soft smile on his lips, he stepped out and closed the door behind him. Surely DV would feel refreshed the next morning, finish up, and show the monsters at the Armskirk arena who’s boss, and learn from it - especially for Moonfell Academy. The two may of argued, but it’s what siblings do. He loved and cared for him, and so did DV, despite him not voicing it as much. And despite Dark practically risking injuries in this fight...Vitas knew that he would be okay. DV was strong - he had always been. It would be a new battle, but he would find a way to adapt, like he had with all his other spars at Moonfell. ~FIN.~

[whumping-newbie]

Not in Vain

Another bit of Michał that I have been writing for NaNo, based on a scene I started and planned but never actually finished.

POV: Michał

Warnings: female whump, slavery, captivity, starvation, threats, hair pulling/grabbing by the hair

I was alone as I made my way down the corridor, the corridor I had walked down just yesterday. The solitude of the quarantine cells was unnerving, even though I knew that was exactly the point. A smaller window of bars compared to the other cells, and huge stone walls covering the remainder, allowing barely any light into the cells. The lights in here are turned off when there are no visitors or food deliveries, enveloping the whole area in total blackness, leaving those unlucky enough to be locked up in here alone with their thoughts and the bare minimum.

Not that it matters when there is only one prisoner here, and that prisoner is the former Queen.

I heard a small stirring as I approached carrying the tray of food for her, crouching down to my knees and setting it down in front of the bars. It was dark in there, I couldn’t see where she was, she must be against the back, either that or just on the other side of the stone, the side I cannot see.

I felt that I should say something. I needed to. For my own sake, I needed to speak to her.

“Your rations, your majesty,” I said, pushing the tray right up against the bars softly with two fingers, still kneeling.

I heard a small yet unamused sound come from within the cell, yet the speaker made no move to come and face me.

“‘Your majesty,’“ she repeated, “that’s a funny thing to say to me when you called that traitor ‘your excellency’ yesterday.”

I gulped, returning to my feet, taking in the resigned reality of someone who has so little to live for anymore. That cell must be a torture in of itself, a crippling loneliness and dread, cold and unfeeling, the visitors being less than ideal. I wonder what kind of thoughts someone would suffer through when in a suffocating darkness, trapped with no one else, with no way out, with no hope – I imagine that this particular branch of cruelty is on a similar level with the brutality of Emil’s interrogations.

Her nephew, is all I can think of. Emil is her nephew.

“I mean no offence, your majesty,” I apologised, “it wasn’t her, I thought you’d like to know”.”

I turned away, not expecting her to respond to me.

“Come back here,” she commanded. The strength she pitched behind her words was almost welcome, considering what she had been reduced to now.

I obeyed instantly, standing to attention before her. The Queen appeared into my view, scrambling to her feet with assistance from the bars. Her fingers wrapped around the cold steel, they were almost like she had no skin, just as skeletal as the rest of her. She was clearly starving down here, her face was eerily haunting, she looked so different. She once had such a proud stance, and now…

“You came here to gloat, did you?” she asked, “to see my fall from grace?”

“No, your majesty.”

“Don’t lie to me, boy. Do you take me for a fool?” her voice raised, the conviction behind them is admirable.

“Absolutely not, your majesty.”

She stood there in silence for a moment, scrutinising me closely. She kept her head high as she did, looking me directly into the eyes as she continued her questioning.

“How could you do this?” she asked, “how could you do this to her? After everything that happened, you swore to protect her, and yet you’re working for the ones who want to harm her. Does that vow you made mean nothing?”

I flicked my gaze in the direction of the door, wondering just how much of the conversation the guard outside can hear. I returned to the eye contact she established, her familiar brown eyes were so empty, so hollow despite what she had said to me.

“It means everything to me, your majesty,” I kept my voice quiet, hoping that my response would not be heard.

She let out a scoff, turning around to the darkness of the cell behind her, refusing to face me, “how dare you. You think I don’t hear what happens to the prisoners here? What they are put through? I can hear everything in here, and you say that your own promise to protect my daughter means everything to you. That is some loyalty you have there. How do you sleep at night?”

I don’t, I wanted to say, but it wouldn’t have helped.

“Get out of here. I don’t wish to speak with a traitor.”

I salute once more. “Yes, your majesty.”

It’s probably going to take some convincing for her to believe that I sincerely want to help her, and her daughter.

I’m going to have to steal more from Emil.

---

“Ah, Jelen,” Emil looks up from his documents as I step into his office, and he gets to his feet. “Do you have what I asked for?”

I nod, clutching the stash of paper in my hands. “Yes, sir.”

I start making my way over to him, holding out the envelope towards him. The seal is unbroken on the envelope, a sign to him that I have not tampered with the documents within. I meet him at his desk, and hand over the envelope, which he opened and pulled out the thick wad of papers from within.

Reports, sightings. Potential leads that he himself investigates.

He takes a good, long look at the photograph of the girl in the first photograph, the one that is stapled to the first piece of paper. A young woman in Nazachodzie, that at first glance, does look like the Princess, judging by the way he is so intently staring at her. Her hair is almost identical, but there’s the way she looks, her eyes are the wrong colour for starters.

I take a glance at his room whilst he is preoccupied with staring at this photograph. There’s poor Matylda in the corner, scrubbing at the floor. She is so focussed, she doesn’t even look at me at all. The poor girl, she looks exhausted.

“Stupid cousin,” he growled, slamming the papers down on the desk and rubbing his eyes. “Every damn time.”

A frantic set of knocks pound on the door of the office with such force that I’m surprised the door didn’t fall in. Even little Matylda flinched at the sudden sound, briefly stopping whilst she looked up, before continuing her work, scrubbing the floor underneath a small table, with a wonderfully dark blue vase sat atop it.

“Who is it?” Emil called out, irritated.

“Mitrenga, Kapitan,” the voice replied, “it’s urgent, sir.”

Emil went over to the door, wrenching it open and stepping outside into the corridor.

I could hear them begin talking frantically. Something about some rebels causing trouble in Nadmorzem. I can’t even begin to process that statement, because I am surprised there’s anything left there. I saw photographs, it’s almost totally levelled at this point.

When Emil doesn’t dismiss the soldier straight away, I decide to satiate my curiosity a little by looking at the discarded pile on Emil’s desk. I pull out one of the stash, and feel my breath catch in my throat when I see who it is.

It is the Princess.

She looks to be well, or as well as can be expected. She’s filthy, her hair longer than I remember it, and tied back in a ponytail. She’s looking over her shoulder at something, clearly not noticing whoever took the photograph. The accompanying document says the source came from Podgórą, and that means trouble if she’s there.

She’s with someone else, a dark haired girl with a red streak in her hair. That’s not a good thing, that girl sticks out like a candle in the dark, and if Emil sees this photo, all he needs to do is find that girl. Not even his cousin, because she can hide, no discernible markings. Not that girl. That girl has a defining visual feature.

I take a quick glance back up to Emil who was still stood outside in the corridor. Now or never.

I swipe the paper, and fold it in half, and half again, as quickly as I can manage, but before I can stuff it into my uniform pockets, Emil has finished his conversation outside. He dismissed the soldier, and started turning around.

I stood straight again with my arms behind my back, the document still in my hand. Shit. Shit, shit, shit! I’m in trouble now. He’ll see me with it, and then I’m in a lot of trouble. He won’t see this as a mere accident, or coincidence. No, this is an active crime of sabotage against him.

Especially since this one is the Princess.

Shit!

“Now, back to our trouble –“ Emil started, but he was cut off by the sound of something smashing.

Both our attention is diverted to the back of the room, where there is a broken vase shattered in pieces in front of a crouched Matylda. She’s still there, she’s stopped what she’s doing. It looks like she’s knocked the table that held such an exquisite vase.

“You clumsy little bitch,” Emil stopped in his tracks, and turned to the small girl in the corner.

“I’m sorry sir, I – I didn’t mean to -!” she said through fast forming tears.

But then, I realised.

Emil was totally distracted by this.

He was stood over the poor girl, and she was trembling beneath him as he grabbed her by the hair. I heard her yelp in surprise, but she wasn’t looking at him.

She was looking at me.

I quickly used these precious moments, these golden seconds to conceal the folded piece of paper I had hidden behind me. I stuffed it into my shirt, the piercing ends of the paper catching on my skin as it slides down and rests just above my waistline.

It’s there, hidden now, beneath my jacket. No one will see it there unless I’m ordered to strip. Which, quite honestly, is unlikely.

“Stupid clumsy bitch,” Emil lets go of his young prisoner, and she’s clutching at the rag she was using to scrub the floors. He still towers over her, and she still doesn’t look at him. “Clean this mess up. That vase was worth more than you, you know. You’ll pay for this later, trust me.”

“Yes, yes sir,” she replies tearily, just looking up from the ground enough to make eye contact with me.

I was stood as I was before, both arms behind my back, with the added bonus of no risk of being caught with compromising documents on my person.

She did that on purpose. She broke that on purpose, as a distraction. She did that for me.

And she’s probably going to suffer for that.

Whatever happens now, I refuse to let that kind of bravery be in vain. She didn’t have to do that, and she did it for me. She knows what she did, and I know what she did.

However she gets punished for that, I want to make that worth it for her. I refuse to let her regret such an action. I promise that. It will be worth it.

[the-uptake]

Strange Declensions of Skin and Musculature

The Uptake, With Symbiotic Self-Indulgence. Book 3, Chapter 10. Go to previous. Go to next. A ripening anthology of perverse possibilities. TWs: Medical gore, hard trypophobia warning, needles, drugging. [Revised 2020.01.10]

______________________

Sitting on the toilet cover pantsless as he hemmed over his shin, ‘Choly scratched at his throat. His glasses lay on the bathroom counter. He had his bicolor bangtails braided and tied with button hair elastics, with the ABC-gum barrette pinned into his hairline. In his ears were magenta keyhole ear weights, and just beneath his lip, a spike labret. The variety of colorful pill-shaped charms on his bracelet tinkled as he worked with a seam ripper yet again. The straps of his elastic-band upper back brace, and his ‘please cut here’ dashed-line choker, peeked from the large open neck of his thin white shirt, on the front of which posited a simple ‘So What?’

Second rolling shift had only just started, so he had plenty of time and light to tend to his leg. Meanwhile, Cecil made enough coffee to hopefully get through to third rolling shift.

“It’s just not healing right,” ‘Choly started from the bathroom, holding all his frustration in his lips. “Slag it all, I hate that I’m outta the Trylocaine saline already. That doc used shit stitches, y’know. Ugh, maybe this is me havin’ a reaction to the bone pin itself.”

“That’s absurd,” Cecil assured. A knock at the door, and he sneezed. “Stay put. I’ll get it.”

“Did you order lunch already?”

‘Choly could hear Cecil speaking with a thetic, and handling a shipment package, and the door shut. He saw him carry a decent sized flat box into the kitchen and set it on the table.

“I’ll show you once you’re done messing with your leg. Gosh, an offline signature. Even the localized in-building Nikola has been spotty. Awful.”

Lacking elucidation, and having successfully opened his leg wound back up, he remained where he sat and let his curiosity chew him up. He took a few paper towels off the roll on the counter beside him, and folded them to the desired thickness. He then pressed at the sides of the wound at different angles, and sopped at the milky bruise-colored discharge as it came forth.

“How’re your stitches healing up?”

“They were staples. The HP kiosk removed them a week ago. You were there.”

“Haha, yeah. But I mean, is it healing up?”

“Yeah. It’s getting to the itchy part.”

“Y’think the telemed kiosk would let me get debridement? Or do you think I’d have to drone that?”

The thought of sidestepping medical provision sublimated in Cecil’s head.

“Please let telemed do it. You really think it’s that bad? We can take you up there right now. Second shift. The elevators are working.”

“Ugh. No. No. I’m just running my mouth,” he dismissed, laughter nearly burbling through this anxiety. “Could you. Just help me make sure it’s drained properly at least. I’ve got the stitches off, but it’s hard for me to see. I can do it, but it’d be way easier with a second set of hands.”

“Yeah. But I really need to take my halo off and let it charge more. Only had it on to make sure I heard when the package came.”

After a few minutes, Cecil appeared in the doorway, wearing a dark gold rolled-sleeve dress shirt not tucked in, gradient black-to-red trousers, and house shoes, and not wearing his halo. He’d replaced the glasses he’d lost in the explosion with a pair of super-small round frames, and it nearly made him look like he squinted at all times.

They navigated the expression of the leg wound through touch and body language alone, guiding hands by hands and reading pace in the stiffness or eagerness of their touch. ‘Choly watched Cecil’s face as he knelt and inspected the shin, noting that the discoloration of the different sections of Cecil’s sutured-together face were starting to truly blend back together. He admired Cecil’s halo ports, the pair of shuttered discs at his temples and the pair behind his ears, and thought, If my fingers were the right shape and material, I could just... reach in. When it got to it doesn’t have to be fingers, he sat up straighter to dismiss the thought process altogether. The image of plunging a screwdriver into surgically crafted holes in his boyfriend’s head for fun and profit churned up his stomach.

He wondered what doing that would actually do to Cecil, and physically frowned instead of smiling like he wanted to.

Once the pus started really flowing, Cecil choked, and the haste in his shoulders came across as though he didn’t think he could discard the paper towels in the waste basket fast enough to start again with fresh. The grief stitched in Cecil’s face said it all for ‘Choly.

“It’s not your fault, that it got infected,” Cecil started, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear ‘Choly reply. “Besides, a similar stench comes out of the garbage chute all the time. It’s fine.”

The tenants dumped into the automated chutes at all hours, and stuff was getting trapped in them while the power was off for sixteen hours at a time, when they were supposed to empty directly into the building’s dumpsters.

“These rolling blackouts are hitting the building like the bullet to my leg. Only a matter of time before it all goes necrotic.”

‘Choly remembered Cecil couldn’t hear him, and trailed off watching Cecil continue to sop up the bloody rot. Again, he spaced out, fantasizing with the tenderness Cecil worked, that Cecil explore the wound orally. I wonder what sort of transmission that would create. Whether he’d get infected with my leg rot. Or if there’s something in his mouth that absolutely should not be in my leg. He groaned when Cecil had to press extra hard to get a stubborn vesicle. Cecil let out an apologetic noise, but ‘Choly nudged his leg at him to continue with an appreciative but flighty nod-shrug.

“Swing around and put your leg over the bathtub.”

‘Choly came back to reality, and complied, letting Cecil use a plastic cup to pour water from the faucet over the wound until it ran clear into the tub. Once patted dry, ‘Choly tested the stretch of his skin by pulling it together over the wound. Agitated, he pulled harder, and harder, losing delicateness when the flesh proved so overly pliant.

“Could you get the stylus tin from the medicine cabinet for me.”

When Cecil continued to watch him fuss over the flesh, ‘Choly realized that was something he’d intended Cecil to hear, and his lips scrunched to one side. He made sure Cecil was watching his hands, and pantomimed the approximate size and dimensions of what he needed before pointing to its location. Cecil stood with a nod and opened the mirrored medicine cabinet. Good thing there’s not anything else in there that size or shape...

Cecil produced the ten-inch-long aluminum tin, and ‘Choly thanked him. He watched in concern when ‘Choly opened it up and began sterilizing the implements in it with the rubbing alcohol. He took a seat on the bathroom floor to watch, and observe, not knowing how else to be of assistance. As Cecil held ‘Choly’s calf and steadied his leg with his heel across one shoulder, the nonchalance with which ‘Choly worked with the scalpel to trim away the square inches of flesh, all without the localized anesthesia he’d complained of having used up, painted a potent understanding how jaded ‘Choly was to this particular kind of pain, and how regularly this maintenance had transpired. Transfixed and haunted, Cecil’s spider bites hung parted for some time, before he finally spoke.

“I knew you stitched yourself back up, but surgery?” he begged. “You do your own surgery? Without anesthesia.”

‘Choly shrugged. He set the hunks on the counter, sterilized the wound with an antiseptic spray, and switched from knife to needle and thread. As he wove another vertical mattress suture, he remembered that he’d have to sneak the brine kit, and swallowed hard.

“Oh yeah. I was gonna chuck that stuff. Slag. Uh.”

The sentiment of rejecting the years long project had only intensified since what people now called Central Day, but he had to figure out how to navigate it into the garbage chute without Cecil seeing it.

The garbage chute smelling like his leg. He thought to all the purulent napkins in the trash, and to how the chute wasn’t emptying correctly. Of course it smelled like his leg. He hadn’t really noticed. Had he just gotten that used to the stench?

He ran Cecil out and the bathroom door shut behind him. He then finished up the stitches, dressed the fresh edges of the seam, put his blood-vessel print leggings, and clamped the series of straps and buckles of his leg brace over them. His glasses went back on his face.

He leaned into his reflection with a detached sneer, and with both index fingers adjusted to make sure the hinged shades were erect and out of the way.

He opened the bathroom door, and with a wheeze scrutinized how distracted Cecil was. Through the modular shelving, ‘Choly could only identify that Cecil was arguing with his reader and a cube, which was likely an instruction manual, and that Cecil’s halo still lay in the charging pad on the kitchen counter. Emerging at a caution, he rounded the corner to kneel at his side table and dig the aluminum box from the back of the bottom drawer. He rushed it into the bathroom, and scooped the flesh off the counter into the trash can, then took out the entire bag and the box, and rounded the other way out of the bathroom to shove them both down the garbage chute.

He held every ounce of exasperation and relief in his shoulders, and stood there for some time marveling and loathing in alternations that he’d actually done what he just had.

“--There, it handshaked,” Cecil announced. “What’d you throw away?”

‘Choly nearly fainted, whirling about to find Cecil had put his halo back on and looked on expectantly from where he sat in the kitchen.

“I, it was the pieces of skin. The whole trash bag. I was just cleaning up. I swear.”

Cecil frowned.

“Do you... have to do that often? Cut off part? Seems awful.”

“I have my moments.” Sweating, he tried to shift focus to what Cecil had been unboxing, only to go slackjawed and hobble over. “I, uh. Forgive me but wHAT. the actual fuck is that doing in our apartment.”

“The way things are going,” Cecil replied, with a small resigned smile, “we’re going to need to be able to defend ourselves. And this is the best I could do in terms of protection, without access to an Underweb app. I shopped for a real gun, but ex federal employee or not, the bullets are the hard part. So, I settled on this moment’s crowd favorite: the tranq gun.”

‘Choly picked his jaw up to smile, smitten as Cecil started compiling the various components to resemble the device that had been indicated. It scared and delighted him a bit, that Cecil of all people would have obtained such a thing.

“We could... put something besides tranq in it,” he suggested.

Cecil nearly laughed, only to frown harder.

“Don’t let Augen hear you say that.”

“Or else what? He’ll jerk off in our bathroom? Again?”

Another knock on the door. They both looked at each other swearing innocence. Choly got it, to find Linnaeus and Augen stood in the hall, carrying large woven totes. When he saw who stepped inside, Cecil hastily stashed the fully constructed gun in the space between the bookshelf and the fridge, and came out into the hallway track to greet the pair.

“Well, someone’s ears sure were burnin’,” ‘Choly quipped with a long face. Once the door shut, he greeted, “Good to see you again, Linnaeus.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” the vampire muttered, not stopping between the doorway and the kitchen table. He indiscriminately shoved off all the unboxing trash into the other chair. Most of it ended up in the floor. He plopped his pair of totes on the table and divorced himself of them at last. “Never mind. I don’t care enough. We came bearing botany.”

Augen had come in a white asymmetrical vinyl-placket cowl-neck button-down, his gauzy dark grey vest, and aproned drop crotch pants, and had his hair tucked into a low loose bun. ‘Choly eyed his dark penny loafers, noting that his shoes and feet were dry, belying how awfully Augen’s flesh shone. Heavy bags darkened the vampire’s distracted eyes.

Meanwhile, Linnaeus dove into a fierce hug, and Cecil shoved down his agitated sputtering. The thylacine wore a coffee-colored asymmetrical vinyl-placket short sleeve button-down with vinyl sleeves, iridescent emerald slacks, and flip flops that only barely cleared the pads of his feet.

“--But we don’t even keep the fridge plugged in anymore,” Cecil objected, finally breaking out of his brother’s grip. “Unpreserved stuff spoils too fast with the rolling power.”

“We must green up your apartment,” Linnaeus insisted. “I know you won’t come live with me in Premier, so we must make your living space as habitable as possible.”

The thylacine glanced to ‘Choly just long enough to communicate a mixed emotion over being identified correctly this time, then worked to unpack potted plants from the totes and set them out throughout the apartment wherever he could find the room to. Cecil followed trying to meter exactly where the greenery found homes, failing to do much more than simply keep them off anything that wasn’t waterproof. Most of them overtook the modular shelving, though many also ended up beside ‘Choly’s daybed, around Cecil’s bookshelves, and even the bathroom.

“Stout, low-light plants. Daisies. Lilies. I knew the air quality would be awful with the intermittent power, but my word. I’ll have to come back with more chrysanthemums. And ivy. Soon.” He sniffed unpleasantly, noting his rapid congestion. “Vek cultivars. These will filter your air, and increase your available oxygen. Many even flower. A few bioluminesce, to ease your dark shifts. And this one. I’ve got friends in the agricultural frontier. Hybrid bamboo. In case you need to charge your halo without Tesla.”

Cecil squirmed at the remark, knowing it illustrated just how uncomfortable the thetic prosthesis made his brother. Linnaeus still grasped for ways to give him autonomy on Linnaeus’s terms, rather than his own. His brother did not mourn the disability, but rather the accommodations and treatment. Circumstances had neutered Linnaeus’s choices in solution options at the time, and robbed the ideal fix from Cecil in the process.

Breathing heavy, Augen helped himself to a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water from the kitchen sink. ‘Choly supposed that he just got really dried out from carrying all that stuff as far as they did, but then the fish did not rehydrate externally as he usually did by pouring it all over his face and neck, instead downing three glasses of water before setting down the glass, tugging at his collar, and wheezing.

“I got the care that the HP felt I needed,” Cecil snipped, glossing over Augen’s distress. “It’s fine. I’m fine. It works. The thetic stuff works. But you want to talk people who needed and got care. What the fuck! You re-grafted Augen?” He threw his hands at the vampire, incredulous. “Did you do that for free! How did you get him so perfect again? That doesn’t seem plausible, for so many reasons. Even if you had his exact serum formulation written down somewhere. I know the same formula won’t take the same way twice--”

“--’Choly didn’t tell you about my little April Fool’s Day prank, then.” Augen folded to a coughing fit. He sat on the kitchen counter, and began disrobing starting with the vest and moving on to unbuttoning his shirt. “Uncharacteristic of him... not to wax anecdotal over the little things... Guess everything that transpired on Central Day pales... in comparison.”

Another coughing fit cut him off, and he chuffed weakly with a groan.

“What gives, man?” ‘Choly asked at last. “You’re acting weird. Weirder than you did at Finnegan’s.”

“Finnegan’s was formulaic,” he croaked, letting out a tic. “This is. Something else.”

“He’s some of my finest work,” Linnaeus interjected, tone deaf to his object d’art’s apparent drug conflicts. “Excepting the bizarre habit of intentionally seeking humanization therapy, he’s only been grafted the once. Do a job well enough, and it only must be done the once. It’s not my fault, whatever other chemical alterations he samples.”

“Don’t you rib me for being hooked on therapy darts-- When it wears off, I get to re-experience-- your-- immaculate work seize hold of me over. and over. AND--”

Augen stiffened with a seethe, increasingly struggling to control his gross motor skills. He fully removed his shirt, and stood to start removing his pants, only to collapse in a writhing seizure, contorting in the floor face-down.

That got everybody’s attention. Murmuring oh shits, they all crowded close into the tiny kitchen, but not too close, unsure what to do. His shoulder was pitted in a deep cluster of kumquat-sized holes, many of which gauzy mucus filled.

“What is. Wrong with his shoulder,” Cecil uttered when the vampire’s seizure calmed.

“What do youmean what iswrongwith my-- aUGH”

Augen’s shoulder seized up, the musculature contracting the deep oversize pores to effuse their contents. From one wriggled forth a small creature with translucent veiny skin, a boxy snout, no eyes, large broad pointed ears, two front limbs, a fleshy nape, and a stout tadpole-like tail. It routed blind with its snout for a safe place to get, and found such in Augen’s armpit.

“What... is that,” ‘Choly whispered, unsure if the thing needed squashing or coddling.

“Augen,” Linnaeus started at a caution, crouching and holding out a hand to coax the creature to crawl up. “I do believe you’re the first fertile hybrid.”

Everyone collectively marveled in repulsed fascination.

“You went back to the Lazarus Hall, didn’t you. After I told you to leave the Volumizer alone.”

“Again,” Augen added. He turned over on his side with a grunt, his features as sallow as his salamander flesh would permit. “I know I only asked permission the first time, but slag it’s so raw. I couldn’t not.”

The creature lost interest in the thylacine’s arm, and wanted to get back in Augen’s armpit.

“What do you mean, I’m fertile,” he continued. “I didn’t--”

“Slag it all, I wish I could keep it for study in good conscience. You don’t understand. In a normal batch of Vek serum, Volumizer controls the sequencing potency of the genetics being grafted. From what you’ve told me, exposure to pure Volumizer post-grafting maximized the expression of each genetic donor to the end the human features all but drowned altogether. But this, this would be fascinating if it weren’t so terribly perfect a punctuation that your reckless abuse of the gift I’ve given you has started catching up with you.”

The creature found Augen’s axillary nipple, and it objected to the piercing by biting him. In a kneejerk he almost smashed his armpit tight shut, but instead scooped it up in his closed webbed hand. He snaked up to the counter without fully standing, deposited it in the glass he’d been drinking out of, and reached to refill it slowly. As the water filled the glass, it vacuously suction cupped its buccal funnel to the glass in contentment, and he slouched in exhaustion.

“The vampire bat, the Pacific lamprey, the olm, they reproduce sexually.” Linnaeus just couldn’t stop trying to explain away what had just transpired. “The tunicate, however. I have to have given you Didemnum vexillum, I recall. It’s what I was studying at the time. It reproduces both sexually and asexually, depending on the track of its life cycle. If the tunicate genetics expressed at a high enough potency, your flesh may very well have transformed into a colonial fabric of thousands of tunicate-like structures. Which... from the look of your shoulder,” he leaned in to gesticulate at the bruised, pocked shoulder with a clawed finger, “you must have ejaculated like a tunicate. But, you weren’t underwater at the time, I’m supposing, so it just spread all over your skin. You inseminated your own flesh. But, even after the Volumizer wore off, the tissue didn’t reject the life form gestating in your cutaneous tissue. It’s been theorized that hybrids are infertile due to individual genetic isolation, even between those grafted with similar constituents. But you, Augen, you’re a genetic match to yourself.”

“So you came all this way just to give birth in our kitchen?” Cecil quipped, adjusting his glasses dryly. “What is it with you and covering my place with slime every time you come over, huh?”

“Oh, fuck off.” The vampire pouted, curling up in the floor and tucking his head between his arms. “Are you sure I didn’t just... bud off or something? Like, a piece broke off?”

“If so, that’s only that much more captivating a discovery, to research more thoroughly in the future.”

“Does that mean it’s all right that I went down to the Lazarus Hall, like, four times in the past month. Or does that mean that you’re going to Volumize me and observe the results?”

Linnaeus’s ears folded, and he resumed pacing the hall track.

“If you’re keen to the idea of volunteering for it, my studies would greatly benefit from it.” He paused, to look to him. “If you’ve... Volumized... that many times, are you certain this is the only time you’ve...” He gestured to the creature in the glass.

“As far as I know. But you’re right... No way for me to know whether there’s more... Körbls.”

“You’ve stayed out of the waterways, haven’t you?”

Augen floundered in the floor in a deadweighted incredulity.

“...Of course I haven’t fucking look at me I’m thE FUCKING HUDSON RIVER FISH MAN.”

Linnaeus’s features tightened.

“Didemnum is an invasive species. If even one... Körbl... got into the bay, it’s soon to be covered in you.”

“Wait.” ‘Choly pulled up the picture from his cube storage. “Wait wait. This stuff just made all the different things you’re made of manifest. Literally. Explosively? That’s what happened?” Wow, I’m not the only one with pieces of my body coming off.

Linnaeus snatched the reader from him to glare at the photo.

“You took a picture while you were in the La--” his muzzle tangled into a furious snarl, “--Augen you took my brother’s boyfriend down there!?” He snarled and shoved the phone back to a doe-eyed ‘Choly.

“Told you it was a bad idea to chaperone me while you had your little field trip,” ‘Choly uttered in lyric, pocketing his reader.

“It was only a little semen,” the vampire defended, curling his face up under the counter’s edge to face away from everyone in shame.

“A LITTLE!” ‘Choly cried. “Are you a lamprey or a slagging hAGFISH!?”

Linnaeus couldn’t not laugh at it cast in this light.

“I knew there was Volumizer down there, but I never kept it in these quantities. With it so closely related to Vek use, it’s illegal to possess that much, let alone all in one place. I don’t like the thought of so much of it stockpiled ‘in plain sight,’ within city limits, no less.”

“Can’t be an isolated example,” Cecil said, having felt like this all had been a fever dream. “The only place things have been stored like that.”

Linnaeus paced again.

“There’s a lot of speculation that upsets me. Where else it might be stored. No question whether there is more. Who’s buying all this stuff from BH Meehl, and why are they turning a blind eye to their buyer? They’re either letting one client buy in bulk far in excess of what’s legal per purchase, or they’re letting one client buy however many drums they like provided they don’t exceed the legal limit per purchase. Who could possible need that much Volumizer besides the agricultural industry! The Lazarus Hall may have used that much in three months, during its golden days. Before the bombing flushed the city of most of my clients, it would have easily taken me five years to use that much down at my current parlor.”

“Maybe Meehl, or whoever bought this stuff from Meehl, rented the storage for it on the cheap.” ‘Choly gave a noncommittal shrug. “Repurposing structures for storage, without declaring what’s being stored. Happened all the time in the Quarter. Still happening in the Quarter, from what I understand. Stuff being illegal’s never stopped anybody in this city before.”

“And now, within city limits. The most concerning question, then, I’m thinking... is whether they were looking for a place to discard it, or whether they were looking for a place to hide it with the intent to return to it later.”

“Lots... of vacant real estate with Tri-City largely a ghost city for the time being.” Augen flopped in the floor again for emphasis.

“Wh. While we’re on the subject of Vek...” ‘Choly nudged the topic away from what was making everyone so uncomfortable. “You still graft. Would I... be able to get a consultation from you?”

Linnaeus approached him, and leaned in to remove his glasses. He scrutinized the oleous cataracts staring back at him fearfully.

“You’ve been mutated by Wolfrin exposure, correct?”

‘Choly squirmed where he sat on the daybed. “Wolframite. Yes.”

“--Then your genetics are inoperable, I’m sorry to say.” He straightened and returned the glasses. Once upon his face, Linnaeus flicked the shades down and resumed pacing. He softened to contemplation, welcoming the distraction of working out the logistics of a hypothetical grafting client. “It would likely take years of corrective humanization therapy before you’d be viable for it. Humor me... What would you have liked?”

“He’s obsessed with insects,” Cecil jabbed, failing not to roll his eyes. At this point he just wished the two of them would just leave, but he couldn’t turn down a slightly lighter subject first.

“I would’ve sold my soul for bug grafting donors to have been available during Vek’s legal life span.” ‘Choly nearly cried, his filter fluttering. “I did this to myself, for a lot of reasons. The Wolfrin exposure was voluntary. I figured there’d never be a cicada, moth, beetle or even fly in my future. Not even a mealworm. I’ve spent a lot of the past seven years mourning that I didn’t just settle and get something. Anything. When it was legal. This...” he gestured to himself like he’d just been drenched out of nowhere, “was the best I could do. Knock off hairless mammal. Awful.”

“We’re still not to the point of insect donors, if it’s any consolation. The exoskeleton just doesn’t take properly in mammals.” Linnaeus glanced between 'Choly and Cecil, who’d leaned against the modular unit. At this point, ‘Choly started on a bargaining track.

“What about... insects without one? An exoskeleton? Caterpillars. Worms. Maggots. I’d risk being a larva the rest of my life. Or a nymph. If it held a speck of possibility that the grafting would give me the chance for an eventual true metamorphosis.”

Linnaeus stopped pacing altogether, cowed by the remark. Surely, what Cecil could see in ‘Choly was the desire to have been grafted.

“All insects have an exoskeleton. Juveniles’ are just more pliant. Albeit scientifically ill-informed, I’m moved, though. I wish a method as poetic as that were the solution. You’re... you’re a good mate for George.”

Cecil only thought he’d had enough.

“As glad as I am to have it, Ben, I don’t need your approval who I fall in love with. I appreciate the greenery you’ve brought, but don’t you think you should just--”

A third knock on the door, this time impatient and extensive.

“Just fucking get it, ‘Choly,” the ex-librarian snapped, flapping a hand toward the front of the apartment.

‘Choly raised up on the balls of his feet to look through the peephole, but had absently been turning the door handle all the while, and Jacob immediately started to push himself in. When ‘Choly tried to slam it shut in a panic, Jacob jammed his foot in the way with a flinch. ‘Choly jerked in guilt at having done so, and gave him a little room, to which he slowly stepped inside, and shut the door behind himself to lean back against it.

“Good afternoon, Melancholy-- Oh! You have company.” Sweating, he struggled to breathe. “So sorry. This’ll only take a minute.”

All color washed from ‘Choly’s face. He backed up and shrank into the oversize armchair in the bookshelf area that surrounded Cecil’s walk-under loft bed. Jacob had the brine kit box under his arm. Full of doubt in the situation, Cecil slipped into the kitchen for a moment, and nonchalantly grabbed for his new weapon, and he stood sternly in the back of the apartment to observe. Augen looked up to see what Cecil had and rose to his feet in front of the sink, impulsively putting himself between Jacob and Körbl, sensing the potential for conflict escalation.

With a wild-eyed grin, Jacob glanced around the apartment, eyeing the greenery but also the individuals gathered together.

“Well, if this isn’t a motley crew,” he laugh-sweated. “I remember you from April Fool’s.” He feigned warming to the situation when he pointed to Augen, then wagged a finger around to each of them in turn. “Course you were wearing clothes last time I saw you. Let’s see. A Wolframite stalker. A librarian who, from the look of it, I know right where you were on April Fool’s. And correct me if I’m wrong. My biology’s not so great. But I have no idea what either of you two hybrids are made of. Neither of you can have legal grafting, so I doubt you’re documented either.” He let out a hoarse, vulnerable laugh. “Repairman fits perfectly with this crowd.”

Cecil had heard enough. A tranquilizer dart hit Jacob in the right side of his chest. Linnaeus flinched, but Augen writhed at the pneumatic sound of the tranq gun being fired. ‘Choly and Linnaeus both grasped the stimulus and gave the vampire the stink eye, torn between shame for Augen and anxiety for Jacob. The repairman glanced down, deadpan, then back up to confirm that it had been Cecil who had done it.

“I. Tranq gun. Right. I said I was gonna make this quick, but sure. You-- You’RE A lot scarier than I thought.”

“George, those things aren’t formulated to shoot humans with,” his brother hushed, horrified. The thylacine skirted slowly to the back of the apartment.

“Then I suppose he should get to the point,” Cecil retorted, not even looking behind himself.

Jacob would progressively slur more and more as his tone and volume ratcheted out of modulation, but he persisted. He cleared his throat, brushed the dart off his contrast-collar polo, and pulled the box to his front to open it. ‘Choly’s mouth dried beyond the ability to swallow when he saw the leather patchwork drawn out.

“This isn’t vINyl. Or eveN MYCOvek. It’s leather. A slaggin’ king size sheet of leather. In the traaAAsh. And do you want to know how I know that? You probably understand HOOow rhetorical this all is.”

With his gloved hand, Jacob produced the napkin with the freshest bits of excised flesh. ‘Choly looked and felt like he was going to throw up.

“You get caught doing arts and crafts this morning?” Jacob continued, his eyelids drooping unevenly. “Is that it? Had to dispose of it before yOU GOt caught? You’re lucky as sin that I was doing garbage chute maintenance today. That I found this, not the city.”

“It’s mine--” ‘Choly squeaked, trying to voice culpability. “It’s--”

Cecil rushed Jacob to snatch the leather from him. Jacob didn’t let go readily, but Cecil had enough of a grip to wrestle it from him to scrutinize it. ‘Choly was frozen while Cecil processed what he held in his hands. Incrementally, he gaind more and more of the tapestry by tugging firmly and not yielding the progress, Cecil eventually came to the patch with ‘Choly’s triangular forearm tattoo. He croaked, speechlessly furious that Jacob might have tried to take the kit for himself. He ripped the leather from Jacob’s grip with both hands, burning him down with a death glare, leaving Jacob holding the box with everything else in it.

“Your-- No. This is mine now.” Cecil whipped around to glare at ‘Choly with intensity. “You got this tattoo when we were first dating, ‘Choly.”

“I-- I know--”

Augen couldn’t contain an incredulous fit of hilarity at Cecil’s reaction to it all, nearly mirroring how entertain Jacob was remaining.

“Fuck, ‘Choly,” the vampire started, as he put his shirt back on, “You were churning out homebrew leather all this time and you never told me?”

“Never told me, either,” Cecil mumbled softly, rubbing the leather against his cheeks and staring off in a distant possessive hurt.

As Cecil unfolded it to look at it in entirety, the tapestry struck Linnaeus haunted. The thylacine frowned, eyes wide.

“How is that all--”

“--I told you, I’m a Wolframite.” ‘Choly tugged at the corner of his mouth for emphasis. “Doesn’t always go back. And I wasn’t billable until last year. From all my years dealing with All’s Well, I got used to... handling my health problems myself.”

“...TriplY GRAaateful that I found that and not someone who’d be mad,” Jacob quipped. He had to lean against the door again, for his constitution. “Can you imagine if it got out to the HP that you did your own surgery? You like tHE IDea of going to jail?”

“Hey can I have the freshest bits?” Augen joked. “A bit peckish.”

“You should... sit,” Cecil said softly. Then, he added, mostly to himself, “I had no idea you were keeping it.”

Jacob did not, in fact, sit.

The redhead struggled to calculate all the reasons ‘Choly would have kept every piece... all the reasons ‘Choly would have needed to remove it.... the cascade of criminal activity that had gone into crafting the tapestry, from start to perpetually-unfinished product... His eyes glossed over in horrified awe as he looked back up to the group, and he absently wrapped himself up in the thing, unable to recognize how he looked until his eyes met Jacob’s again. Rather than apologize or remove it, he simply wrapped himself up tighter in it, and gave him an angry fat lip.

“I know I’ve loNG Since worn out my welcome. I JUst... had to make sure you meant to throw that away.” Jacob sniffed away drainage and grinned dopily. “oNE Last thing before I go, though.”

‘Choly’s face couldn’t get any longer.

“What.”

“If this is all somehow you...” he produced a specific item from the box, “where did this spent bullet come from?”

“That’s my fault,” Augen chirped, deadpan. “We were playing William Tell. ‘Choly, do you want that box back?”

“If it’s all right with Jacob,” the dreg squeaked.

“It’s all right with Jacob.” Jacob pointed to Cecil, then to ‘Choly when he knew Cecil was still in orbit running his hands all over the leather. “Hit me up sometime, if you want me to fix that HVAC unit filter, will you? Those things are doing three times the work, and only given a third the time to do it. And somethin’ tells me this apartment develops a lot of... sTUBBooorn... unique... odors. Iiiiii’m...” He teetered a bit. “Slag you all act like goddamn serial killers.”

When Jacob stooped to put the box by the bookshelf, he collapsed in the floor before he could process another thought. Cecil approached the unconscious body and glared down at him. And the haloed redhead murmured, deadpan,

“I knew I liked him.”

Go to Next »»»

[ravenchaitea]

Hello out there! I don't know how many of you followed this blog just for the P5 content itself and how many followed it because of my fic writing. Either way, I'm flattered! For any of ya'll that are interested, I've started a new P5 Pegoryu fic and I'll be posting a preview of the first chapter here. Eventually it'll move to Archive.

Summaries are not my thing, but here goes nothin’: 

Ryuji's two years out of graduating from the Colony Defense Force program when he gets his first real assignment in deep space. It's not something in his field as a fighter pilot, he'll basically be acting as a glorified ambulance driver. If he can pull it off, in a year he can put in for a transfer. It might be his only chance. He's never been good at following the chain of command and he doesn't shine academically, but he knows ships. He knows how to fly them, build them, repair them. It's the only reason he was able to get into the program in the first place. It's the only thing he's good at.

He’s surprised when someone takes notice, especially when that someone is Commander Akira Kurusu. The man is the youngest war hero in Earth Colonies history. He was there during the fall of Shido, when the entire planet was wiped off the map. Now he’s a walking poster child for the Alliance of Emergency Medical Services, AMES. He leads a specialized team that travels from planet to planet, offering aid when needed. It’s the complete opposite of everything Ryuji was trained to do, but he’s finding it impossible to say no. Especially when he’s going to be serving under such an attractive commander. 

Act. 1.1

On the Earth colony planet of Kamoshida, the sun is going down, bathing everything in a honey-orange glow. Acres of tall yellow grass grow up from the ground. The stalks roll like waves, stirred up by a mild evening breeze. Ryuji Sakamoto sits on the hood of his silver hover car, hands folded neatly behind his head as the last light of day bakes heat into his skin. He strains to keep his eyes open, drifting in and out of a lazy afternoon nap. It's one of the few moments he's had to himself since spring ended.  

They say Kamoshida is the closet of the Earth colony planets to resemble Old-Earth. It's the only planet in the sector to have a true four season cycle, making it ideal for growing most Earth staples. The planet's major export is its crops, providing more than half of the colonies' food supply. The entire population of the Kamoshida colony is involved with the farming efforts, growing, selling, or packing. Ryuji's family happens to be fifth generation bean growers.  

He opens his eyes and lifts his hands up in front of his face, studying his oil-stained fingers. He's supposed to be working on his hovercar but he can't muster up the energy. Between school and chores, his free time has been limited. This is to say nothing of the spring sowing and all the extra chores that came with that. Their farm is one of the smallest in the area and he's always been expected to help wherever he can. His father won't tolerate laziness. Any time spent working on his car definitely falls into that category.    

He's been putting on the finishing touches for weeks, pushing himself towards the goal of being able to take it out. Although 'out' is a bit of an overstatement. He won't legally be allowed to take it anywhere besides ground streets for two more years. Air flight is restricted to the eighteen and up crowd. Despite that, he figures two years is nothing compared to the four it's taken him to get it all put together. It was little more than an empty chasse full of scraps when he brought it home from the junkyard. A fact his father continues to lord over him every chance he gets, even with all the progress he's made on it.  

He's poured all his monthly allowance into buying parts and making needed repairs. What he couldn't afford, well-... He figures it's all stuff that won't be missed. It needs fresh paint and to have the chrome touched up, but there's time for that later. Having a ground vehicle will at least get him away from the house on weekends. Plus there's a point of pride to be had in being the only one in his circle of friends with a car.  

His hazy mind is busy going over possible paint combinations when he catches himself dozing off for real. He allowed himself to be lulled into sleep by the darkening sky and the warm pre-summer air. He forces his eyes open and glances up, able to see the beginning of stars among the pale pink hues of atmosphere. His body is bone tired and for a few more minutes he lies still, fatigued from weeks of not getting enough sleep. He thinks it odd that someone of his age should feel so run down. There's no time to dwell on that though. His mother will be finishing up dinner and he's expected to be home to set the table.

He slides down off the hood and begins the short walk through the fields to get back to the house. When he emerges from the sea of tall grass he sees his father's truck in the driveway. It's an instant disappointment. Friday nights are usually the night his father stays in town after work to have a drink and 'catch up with the boys'. It's a rarity for him to forego bar time for family time. Ryuji crosses the yard at a slow pace, dragging his feet to stave off the inevitable. The thought of sitting down to eat with his drunkard father is more than he can stand.  

As he's approaching the house his wristwatch display lights up, receiving an incoming call. He pauses just off the porch to answer it, waiting for the video connection to buffer. The eager expression of his longtime friend and classmate Takeishi appears on the screen.  

"What's up?"  

"We still on for tonight?" Takeishi asks and the question throws Ryuji for a moment. Had they made plans? He thinks they might have made plans. "Y'know. Captain Kidd's ship. Parked at the shipyard."  

"Oh shit," Ryuji breathes as his chest lights up with excitement. "Man, I totally forgot about it."  

"How the hell did you forget?"  

"Spring sowin', remember? We've gotta get the fields resown before summer rolls around. I've been busy."  

Takeishi studies him for a moment, eyebrows furrowing in concern, "You good?"  

"I'm okay," Ryuji assures him. It's not exactly a lie, at the moment he's fine. He's tired. Worn down from weeks spent working in close quarters with his father. From trying to meet the man's impossible expectations. "We're meetin' at midnight in old man Iwai's cornfield, right?. Hope you and Nakaoka don't bail on me this time."  

"I wasn't the one who bailed."  

"I'm serious, man. If you guys don't show I'm goin' in alone."  

"We'll be there." Takeishi insists though it does nothing to diminish Ryuji's doubt. "See ya."  

"Yeah." Ryuji sighs, tapping the end call button. Inside he can hear his father's voice. It's more the tone than actual words and he already sounds riled up about something. He ascends the porch stairs and presses himself against the wall beside the front door. He's trying to give himself a moment of composure before he goes in.

He doesn't want to deal with this right now.  

"Hey," He calls out as he pushes the front door open. From his vantage point, he can see into the kitchen. His mother is standing with her back against the counter and her arms crossed over her chest. She widens her eyes at him, a silent warning for him to tread cautiously. He kicks his shoes off and nudges them into neat alignment by his father's work boots. He crosses the living room and turns the corner to his father seated at the dining table.  

"The hell you been?" The older man demands, swinging one of his worn hands towards the table. "I come home from bustin' my ass and your mother can't even get dinner on the table because you're off god knows where."  

"Yes sir," It's less of an agreement and more of a neutral answer. Ryuji knows he's already on thin ice and he's not about to make things worse by arguing.

"Welcome home," His mother offers, a subtle change in the conversation. He hates this. Friday night dinners are usually their thing. It's the one night of the week they don't have to tiptoe around his father.  

"Go ahead and sit down, Ma," Ryuji insists, guiding her towards the table. He washes his hands clean at the sink and gathers the plates from the cabinet. He has to reach around his parents to set the table. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see his father watching him. He's looking for a reason to yell at him again. Wordlessly Ryuji serves the food and grabs his father a bottle of beer from the fridge. On his way to his chair, he sets a light hand atop his mother's shoulder hoping to reassure her. She pats his fingers lightly in acknowledgment. The whole exchange is missed by the man at the head of the table as he pries the lid off his beer and takes a long drink of it.

Ryuji watches in silent disgust as some of the foamy liquid pools at the side his father's mouth and runs down his chin. His entire face looks like well-worn leather. It's creased and tanned by his many long days working in the fields. He runs equally aged fingers across his spotty stubble covered chin, wiping the beer away in an almost thoughtful gesture. He sets the bottle down and clears his throat before taking up his utensils to begin the meal. Neither Ryuji nor his mother dares to start eating before he does, lest they affront him.  

"Spring harvest was profitable this year," He announces, sounding almost on the verge of pride. There's no doubt in Ryuji's mind that his father spent most of his day in town stroking his own ego. Beans are not a big spring crop and their farm has been mostly dormant since winter. That doesn't stop Ryuji's father from acting as if the entire town's spring harvest is his own personal success story. 

"Ryuji,"  

"Yeah?" He's surprised by his father's calm use of his name. He sets his fork down beside his plate and lifts his eyes up to meet the older man's. They're the color of a stormy ocean and dark, cold, and dimly glazed over from the alcohol. Ryuji's always been thankful that he got his mother's brown eyes. He hopes that they somehow make him look more like her and less like his dad.    

"Y'worked real hard these past couple months. Don't think I didn't notice."  

"Uh, thank you," Ryuji replies, feeling his guard go up and his hands curl into fists on reflex. It's not often that the man offers him praise and it usually doesn't come without strings attached. His father rises to his feet, his body swaying under the effects of the alcohol. The half beer that sits on the table is a pallet cleanser for whatever hard stuff he drank before coming home. It's a wonder he was able to drive without causing an accident. Sometimes Ryuji wishes he would crash. It's not malicious but out of a desire to keep him off the road and away from other people. It's easy to picture his father drunkenly swerving in front of somebody else's family.  

His stomach lurches at the thought, the feeling intensified by the sudden approach. The man stands over him like a tree shadow, blocking out the kitchen lights. It casts darkness over him. He turns his head upwards to meet his father's eyes. He strains to keep a straight face as the scent of alcohol on his father's breath wafts down over him like a heavy fog. The older man smiles a grin of yellowing teeth and brings his hand down to clap over Ryuji's shoulder. He flinches away, a sharp jerk of his muscles that's more memory than anything else. The reaction doesn't go unnoticed.  

"The fuck, Ryuji?" His father breathes, training his callused fingers up the back of Ryuji's neck to grip a handful of his hair. Across the table, his mother sits up straighter in her chair. He body is tense with nerves as she prepares to intervene. Ryuji prays that she doesn't, wills her to sit still and stay quiet. "I'm not gonna hit you."  

He definitely would, and has.  

"I was gonna say," He continues, gripping his hair a bit tighter, bordering the point where it becomes painful. Ryuji takes measured breaths to force his body to relax and like a cue, it eases his father's hold on him. Almost affectionately he runs his weathered fingers up through the top of his hair to tussle it. "-that since you helped out so much, I'll give you a bigger allowance this month so you can get your car fixed up."  

"Really?" Ryuji forces enthusiasm into his voice because he needs to act accordingly. "Thank you. I appreciate that."  

"I've never been prouder. Makes me think you've got more than shit for brains after all. Might have someone worthy of passing the fields down to someday."  

Ryuji pointedly ignores the insult.  

His father turns unsteadily on his toes and almost falls over in an attempt to seat himself. He shakes it off and returns to his food. Ryuji and his mother follow suit and for the rest of the meal, he's forced to avoid his mother's concern filled eyes. His father continues to ramble, making small talk and bad mouthing his bar friends. It's a one-sided conversation. He's too drunk and too into his rant to notice that no one's paying attention to him.  

Ryuji continues to mindlessly force food into his mouth, though he can't taste it anymore. Twice he has to pause to keep it from coming back up, his stomach so tied into knots that it's making him nauseous. He doesn't have to suffer for very long, his father begins to doze in and out of consciousness at the table. His mother stands and coaxes her husband to his feet. She leads him down the hallway to their bedroom, guiding his wobbly footsteps the entire way. Ryuji turns his attention to clearing the table and putting the leftovers away.  

It's half past ten when his mother emerges from the bedroom, looking exhausted and frustrated. She enters the kitchen and makes a beeline for the fridge. She almost rips the handle off the freezer door as she yanks it open. Ryuji grabs two spoons from the silverware drawer and waits while she chooses a flavor of ice cream.  

"Feels like a mint chocolate chip sort of night," She mumbles, to herself more than anyone. The two of them sit side by side at the table, sliding the pint back and forth, eating in silence. Ryuji thinks it would be comical if it wasn't also so damn sad.  

"Hey," Ryuji begins, watching as she carves out a large spoonful of ice cream for herself. She glances up at him, prompting him to continue as she tries to find a way to fit the entire oversized scoop into her mouth. "I'm gonna go hang out with Nakaoka and Takeishi tonight."  

"Mmm," She muses, raising her eyebrows in a clear question of 'Oh yeah?'.  

"It's not a school night and I'm pretty sure that he," -the drunken idiot in the bedroom, "isn't going to wake up anytime soon."  

"It's getting pretty late."  

"You really gonna try and pull the curfew thing on me?"

Narrowing her eyes, she points her spoon threateningly in his direction, "It's my right as a mother."  

"I have to get out of here. At least for a little while," He presses, glancing over his shoulder towards their bedroom door. "If you let me go out, you can lay down in my room and get some decent sleep. We can swap beds when I come back." 

"Where are you going exactly?"  

"We're gonna troll around old man Iwai's corn field. Might go down to the lake or somethin'."  

"I hope you realize you're going to have to learn to lie better," She sighs. She takes her spoon and begins to scrape at the bottom of the ice cream carton, hoping to get one final bite out of it. "Fine, but you need to be back before sunrise. And I mean before sunrise."

"I will be," Ryuji swears, leaping to his feet with a sudden surge of new energy. He takes the stairs up to his room two at a time, though his footsteps are measured and quiet. He's not about to risk waking his father up, even though he knows that the man is out for the night. He gathers his backpack and throws his tools into it. Screwdrivers, wrenches, portable laser torch, he runs through a quick mental inventory to make sure he has everything.  

He grabs his ComTab off his bed and sends a quick text message off to his friends to remind them of the time and place. He tosses the tablet into his backpack and tiptoes rapidly back downstairs. His mother gives him an uneasy look as he brushes past her on the way out the door. Despite himself, he can't stand for her to be disappointed in him. As an act of good faith, he doubles back for a hug and promises once again to be back before sunrise.

He slips out the front door and sails over the porch steps and down the driveway. Old man Iwai's cornfield is a few miles down from his house. The night air is crisp and clear, it's temperature situated in the middle of warm and cool. It's the perfect atmosphere for a run. Sometimes Ryuji thinks he was born for it. He should have joined the track team with Nakaoka and Takeishi, but he knew it would be one more thing for his father to play against him. Still, it's a favorite past time to turn to when things get bad at home.  

It doesn't take him long to fall into a steady rhythm of feet on dirt road. The roads are from the early days of the colony, back when vehicles had actual wheels. Once hover crafts became the norm, the roads became more of a guideline for those who preferred to drive closer to the ground. Ryuji himself can't imagine wanting that. He's been dreaming of air flight since he was young. This is due in part to his admiration of Captain Kidd.  

Captain Kidd, like Ryuji, is from the colony of Kamoshida. Something of a local celebrity, he started his career as a well-known stunt pilot. Later he joined up with the Colony Defense Force and within a few years became captain of his own crew. They traverse the galaxy to fend off threats from hostile planets. Ryuji's been obsessed with him ever since the first broadcast of his trick flying. He's collected every holo-vid he could find and has spent hours watching them. The flips and spins are burned into his memory. Even as he jogs he can visualize it.  

It's the reason behind his meeting with Takeishi and Nakaoka. There's a rumor that Captain Kidd is in town visiting his family and that his famous stunt ship is with him. According to the rumor he's even parked it at the local shipyard. Ryuji isn't sure if he believes it, but he's not about to pass up an opportunity to find out. He's broken into the shipyard before to collect discarded parts or to look at the ships and cars. It's almost a joke that Captain Kidd would want to store his trick craft there.  

Their meeting place is on the far end of the Iwai cornfield, where the crops end abruptly and give way to an open flatland. He glances at the time on his watch, ten till midnight. He's the first to arrive, that is if his friends decide to show up. The last time they planned something like this the two boys bailed out, leaving Ryuji waiting for hours. Although, the mission to sneak into Ann Takemaki's sixteenth birthday party was a little less dire than their current plan.  

It's almost midnight on the dot when Takeishi and Nakaoka arrive, stepping free of the tall corn stalks. Takeishi is full of smug arrogance, hands tucked casually into his pockets, head held high. He's always been a bit full of himself, though it's a facade that always seems to crack when things become dicey. Nakaoka is reserved and somewhat nervous. He tries to be the voice of reason for the other two, but his words often fall on deaf ears. He frequently gets dragged into Ryuji and Takeishi's schemes. Although on this particular night, even he seems to be somewhat excited.  

"Told'ya we'd be here." Takeishi steps over to Ryuji and the two of them bump fists. Their knuckles crack together in a way that feels very manly.  

"I was about to go without you," Ryuji shoots back, hoisting his backpack further up onto his shoulders. "If I had any sense I would'a."  

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up and start walking, Sakamoto."  

Ryuji is all too happy to fall into the role of leader, moving with confidence over the large expanse of flat land. Kamoshida's twin moons gleam overhead. They light the way as he guides them along a well-memorized path.  

Before they can get to the local shipyard they have to pass Kamoshida Commercial Shipyard. It's a literal metal city where all the off-world space ships dock. It's one of the larger ones on the planet, a center of commerce for all imported and exported goods between the colonies. Twice a month huge ships dock there to load or unload, staying only a few brief days before departing again.  

As they near the yard, bright overhead beams of light come into view. Steel rafters rise up like metal giants, dotted with high rising staircases and elevators. Skyscraper buildings intermingle with the docks, full of places for ship crews to spend their shore-time. It all feels very exclusive, surrounded all on sides by thick metal walls. They're designed to keep foreigners inside and locals outside. A huge impenetrable fortress in the middle of miles and miles of farmland.  

It's not their destination, but every time Ryuji passes by it, he has to stop to take it all in.  

"Wouldn't it be badass to go off world?" He breathes, turning his head around to look at Takeishi and Nakaoka. The two of them look just as awestruck, maybe more-so, since this isn't a common sight for them.  

"Those ships are huge," Nakaoka says, stepping up next to Ryuji. "I mean, I knew they were huge. They have to be to carry so much stuff, but I guess I didn't have a scale for it before now."  

"My dad works down on dock 37. He says that they're even bigger up close. Bigger than the buildings in the capital." says Takeishi, then adds as an afterthought, "I think about leaving this shitty planet all the time, but let's get real here. The only way any of us are going to make it off is if we join the defense force or the medical brigade. We're all too stupid for that."  

"Maybe you're too stupid. I bet I could get in. Sakamoto could get in if he got real good at fixing ships."  

"Yeah, you're probably right. He'd get himself a job doing custodial work or something."  

"I would not!" Ryuji protests, although they might be right. The only way he'd ever get off Kamoshida is if he got a crappy job on a transport ship. Although the alternative as a bean farmer isn't exactly appealing either. "Maybe I need to become a trick pilot like Captain Kidd."  

"What? You'd never be able to pull that off." Takeishi laughs the words into his face and Ryuji feels his blood heat up under his skin.  

"Why not?"  

"Sakamoto, you got beans for brains? The only thing you've ever piloted is a wheel-tractor. You don't even have your car up and running. What makes you think you're going to be able to do flight tricks?"  

"Guys, let's just go." Nakaoka intervenes right as Ryuji opens his mouth to reply. "If you guys get into a fight we'll never make it to the shipyard to see the ship. So let's just go."  

"Fine," Ryuji concedes for the moment, knowing that Nakaoka's right. He ignores Takeishi for the rest of the trek.  

The local public shipyard is a much less impressive sight. It's a large flat patch of concrete surrounded on all sides by a well worn and rusted chain link fence and an unfathomable amount of weeds. It's mostly a glorified parking lot with a few hangars on the far end. There's even a small collection of Old-Earth style vehicles, camper trailers, and trucks. Most of them are covered in thick layers of dust and surrounded by grass that pushed up through cracks in the concrete.  

"Where do you think he parked it?" Takeishi steps up to peer through the fence, or rather over the fence. It's so old and weak that it halfway hangs off of its support poles. "Inside one of the hangars?"  

"If it's in a hangar, there's no way we'll be able to get in to see it," Nakaoka mumbles, giving into defeat before they've even made it inside. How very typical of him.

"I've broken into this place to collect parts for my car," Ryuji says, stepping up to the fence beside Takeishi. He shifts his backpack around to the front and digs through it until he finds his portable laser torch. "Security is an old guy who falls asleep watchin' the monitors and outdated patrol robots. I don't think the keypads on the hangars work and even if they do I'm sure I can disable them. They're simple coded panels."  

"Since when did you become a hacker?" Takeishi challenges, though there's a touch of admiration in his voice.  

"Not that kind of code, like a number combination. It's less hackin' and more... Cuttin' wires."  Ryuji grabs hold of one of the fence supports. He flicks the torch on and cuts through the small pieces of metal holding the fence up. The panel collapses the rest of the way down into the grass and the three boys clamber over it. Ryuji breathes a sigh of relief. They're finally in, all that's left is to find the ship. "Stay close to me and keep your voices down."

The three of them make slow but steady progress through the shipyard, avoiding motion sensors and cameras. Ryuji knows the layout of the complex like the back of his hand and he continues to lead his friends onward. They've almost reached the long line of hangars when Ryuji hears the unsteady approach of a security robot. He motions for the other two to get down and follow him up under one of the Old-Earth vehicles. They're packed together like sardines and every time Ryuji shifts he's poked by bramble weeds that grew up under the truck's front end.  

Nakaoka's nervous breathing stirs the hair on the back of Ryuji's neck. It's the only sound outside of the approaching patrol robot. The tread on its tires is almost non-existent and it bounces violently over every crack and dip in the concrete. It stops beside their hiding place and begins to run it's scanner down over the side of the vehicle. Blue light beams down into their eyes and Nakaoka stops breathing entirely. The robot lets out a soft crackle of static before turning to wheel away.  

"This is a bad idea. We should leave." Nakaoka insists as the three of them crawl free of the undercarriage of the truck.  

Ryuji resists the urge to roll his eyes, instead offering words of encouragement, "We're almost there. It'll be another half hour before the robots make it back over here."  

"We can't go back," Takeishi adds, though his words are anything but soothing. "You can't wuss out on us now. Not when we're this close. Grow a pair already!"  

"Come on," Ryuji is tempted to ditch them both, tired of their theatrics, but Takeishi is right for once. They've come too far and there's no going back. They begin scoping out the hangars, peering in small side windows to check the inside for the ship. They're almost to the last one when Ryuji finally spots it, an unmistakable outline. Grinning ear to ear, he waves to his friends and they join him at the window. "In here!"

"No way," Takeishi laughs, slapping Ryuji jovially on the back. "I didn't think we were gonna find it."  

"Kinda pissed that you two doubted me."  

"Let's get in there to get a closer look."  

"I'm on it." Ryuji slips around the side of the hangar to the entry door while Takeishi and Nakaoka keep watch. It doesn't take him long to pry the panel off so that he can access the wires. He snips through the alarm wires and then gets to work on the ones that control the lock. He shifts them from connection to connection until he hears the lock click open inside the door. "Guys, come on."  

"Sakamoto, you're such a badass." Takeishi raves as they enter and the compliment fills Ryuji's chest with pride. He's the first one who approaches the cruiser. He runs his fingers admiringly over its sleek navy blue paint. The chrome accents along the front and sides are gleaming, perfect mirrors that reflect Ryuji's wonder-filled eyes. The other boys join him and the three of them circle the cruiser like sharks, drooling over every last detail. "Alright, now that we've looked at it, let's start it up."  

"Whoa, what?" Ryuji glanced at Takeishi, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "What do you mean start it up?"  

"Well you're good at hot-wiring things, right? So get in there and start it up."  

"For real? I can hotwire the crappy hover cars parked in town, but this is a really high-class ship. It's got to have a whole computer devoted to an alarm and protection system," He says it as if he doesn't already know. He does know. He knows everything about it.  

"C'mon, Sakamoto. I know you lay in bed at night fapping to ship schematics."  

"The hell?!"  

"Jerkin' it to all those Captain Kidd posters you've got.”

"Takeishi, I swear-..."  

"Moaning his name when you cum."  

"I'll do it if you shut up," Ryuji growls. He swings his backpack down to the ground and kneels over it. He knows there's nothing in his bag that could possibly work on such an advanced ship. He's got to at least try for the sake of his dignity. It isn't enough for Takeishi that Ryuji brought them to the shipyard and broke into the hangar, no, he's always got to push things too far.  

"Ryuji, don't." Nakaoka implores him. "Guys, this is stupid. We should go. There's no way Ryuji could hotwire a craft like this."  

"Let him work." Takeishi snaps, beginning an argument between the two. Ryuji ignores them as he approaches the stunt ship, heart pounding with nervous anticipation. He never dreamed he would ever see it up close and in person and it's better than any photo he's ever seen. He lightly runs his hand over the lock panel, surprised when it opens up to reveal-... An Old-Earth style key lock? This isn't what Ryuji's expecting.  

Most high-class ships and cars are programmed with fancy identification software. Usually, that means voice recognition or palm and iris scanners. To see something so archaic on Captain Kidd's stunt ship is both amusing and fortuitous. Ryuji can pick old style car locks without even having to think about it. He pulls his tools from his bag and gets to it. He presses his head against the hull, listening for the pins inside the lock.  

"He's got this," Takeishi whispers, earning a sharp look from Ryuji.  

"Don't talk," He commands, straining his ears to move the final pin out of the way. The lock clicks and then turns and with a soft whoosh of air, the door to the ship begins to fold down. Ryuji's eyes bulge inside his head as he realizes what he's done. The lights inside the cruiser flick on, bright white LEDs that make the interior shine like the gates of heaven. Without even thinking about it, Ryuji steps forward to climb the stairs and enter the craft.

Takeishi and Nakaoka bumble up after him, but he hardly notices that they're there. His wonder and excitement have dimmed upon seeing the craft's interior. Although the outside of the ship for all the world resembles the trick craft, the inside is that of a basic hover car. It's even got cup holders and a console. It dawns on Ryuji that Captain Kidd's trick ship likely isn't street legal. The vehicle they're sitting in now is either his civilian car or a really really good fake that someone made.  

"It's not the right one," Ryuji explains lamely, turning to glance over his shoulders at his friends. Nakaoka is wearing a similar mask of disenchantment, but Takeishi on the other hand-... Anger flares to life inside of Ryuji's chest, he realizes he's been baited. "You knew."

"C'mon Sakamoto. You didn't actually think that Captain Kidd would drive his stunt ship into town, didya?" Takeishi gloats, his grin wide with amusement. Sometimes Ryuji wonders why they're friends. Why does he even bothers spending time with someone who acts the way Takeishi does? It's likely all close proximity, they certainly wouldn't have met by any other means. "My dad says Captain Kidd's got a regular hover car made up all nice like his stunt ship. I knew he'd probably park it out here."  

"You're such a friggen asshole."  

"I never said it was the actual ship, you just assumed that."  

"You brought us out here for this?!" Even Nakaoka's upset, a rarity for him. Normally he's immune to all the usual bullshit that Ryuji and Takeishi drag him through. It makes Ryuji feel even worse knowing that his own anger is justified in Nakaoka. "Come on, Ryuji. Let's go."  

"Yeah. Right behind you," Ryuji says, following Nakaoka down out of the ship, or rather, the hover car. He gathers his tools and throws them back into his bag with a satisfying use of force. They clink together as they hit the bottom of the bag and settle. "C'mon Takeishi. Get out of there. We're leaving."

"You're not gonna try to crank this thing up?" Takeishi asks, oblivious to the sour mood of the other two.  

"No! I'm not! Now get outta there!"  

Takeishi pouts as he climbs down the stairs. Ryuji ignores him. He seals the car door back up and starts for the hangar exit, eager to be out and on his way back home. Once they're outside again, he can breathe better. The cool night air calms his nerves a bit. Overhead the stars glimmer and the twin moons shine like the eyes of a cat. It's beautiful in a way Ryuji can't always describe and looking up at it takes the last bit of the edge off. He's still disappointed but it's less biting than it was inside the hangar. That is until Takeishi opens his mouth again.

"You're both being a couple of little bitches about all this," He goads. Ryuji bristles with newfound anger. He tosses his bag onto the ground and brings his hands up to slam against Takeishi's chest. It knocks him against the side of the hangar. The metal rattles and echos across the shipyard.  

"Find your own way home," Ryuji seethes, hissing the words through clenched teeth. Takeishi opens his mouth like he's going to say something else, but Ryuji doesn't allow it. He slams his fist against the hangar, knuckles making contact with the hard metal. It sends a shockwave of pain up his arm but he doesn't care. Takeishi flinches away from both the action and the sound, his eyes wide with disbelief. Ryuji shoves away from the wall and snatches his bag up. This time when they turn to leave, they're not immediately followed.

"Should'a hit me like your daddy hits you!" Takeishi taunts, but the two of them ignore him. The vein in the side of Ryuji's forehead is pulsing and he feels lightheaded. When they're out of sight of Takeishi he stops for a moment to catch his breath.  

"Sorry. You shouldn't'a had to see that," Ryuji apologizes, glancing sidelong. Nakaoka offers him a worn smile.  

"He deserves it," Nakaoka concludes, shrugging his shoulders. "For real though, let's go. I don't want to get caught in here. My mom'll kill me."  

"Mine too."

The two of them set off together in comfortable silence, following the same path they took to get in to get back out. They're almost to the fence line when they hear approaching footsteps. It's followed by the sound of tires bouncing over the cracked concrete. Ryuji throws his head over his shoulder to see Takeishi barreling after them. There's a security robot hot on his tail. Only once has Ryuji ever found himself in a similar situation. He knows from experience that the security bots can outrun a human. There's no way Takeishi is going to make it to the fence in time.  

He knows he's going to regret this, but-...  

"Take this and get outta here," Ryuji snaps, tossing his bag into Nakaoka's arms. He gives the other boy's shoulder a firm push. Nakaoka does what he does best and takes off. Ryuji spins around in the opposite direction to go back for Takeishi. He's doing a fair job of throwing the bot off, ducking between hover cars to cut off its straight forward path. Despite that, the machine is still closing the distance between them. Ryuji sticks his fingers in his mouth and whistles, catching both the bot and Takeishi's attention.  

"Go long!" Ryuji calls out, gesturing towards the far end of the shipyard.

"There's another downed fence that way!" Takeishi throws up a fist in acknowledgment and breaks out running. He's a few aisles down from Ryuji, zigzagging a path through the parked cars. It's a good method to prevent the bot from gaining distance on a straightaway. So far it's working, the bot only has ground capabilities and it can't keep up with Takeishi's random changes in direction. Ryuji for his part races ahead, keeping his eyes out for more security bots. They've almost reached the fence line again and the opening that waits there for them.  

Takeishi's been doing track since middle school and it shows in the way he runs, his stride long and practiced. He catches up to Ryuji and the two of them push on towards the fence. For a moment they catch each other's eye and share twin smiles of amusement. This is easily the craziest thing they've done to date. This Takeishi is the one Ryuji is friends with. He's briefly reminded of that as they come upon the end of their shared row. They dash around the side of the last hover car and almost crash into the fence.  

"No effin' way!" Ryuji curses, staring incredulously at the brand new panel of fencing. "This thing's been down for months! When did they replace it?!"

"Worry about that later! Where else can we get out at?!" cries Takeishi as he checks over his shoulder for the bot. "Shit, Ryuji we gotta go, man! There's two of them back there!"  

When Ryuji looks, sure enough, two security robots are coming down the aisles towards them. In the distance, Ryuji can make out a third. He turned to Takeishi, his stomach clenching nervously at what he's about to do.  

"Takeishi, climb! I'll help you over. Then I can go back down to where we came in," Without thinking he kneels down and offers himself as a foothold to his friend. Takeishi stares at him for a heartbeat, eyebrows furrowed with indecision. They both know its unlikely that Ryuji will be able to make it out. "Please man, just go."  

"I'm sorry," Takeishi apologizes as he steps onto Ryuji's back. He hoists himself up and over the fence, turning around in time to offer a mournful look. Ryuji doesn't have time to do more than wave him off, the bots are closing in around him. As a last-ditch effort, Ryuji takes off back towards the hangars, hoping he might be able to get inside of one to hide. He's almost there when his foot catches in a crack in the pavement. His body shoots forward and lands against the hard ground, skinning his palms and forearms in the process. For a moment he lays winded, trying to will himself to get back up.  

The security bots surround him, having picked up a fourth on the way. They began to run their scanners over him, bright blue beams of light that shock the back of his eyelids. He raises up a hand to cover his eyes against their glow. There's a soft crackle of static that passes between them like they're having a private conversation in robot. One of the bots scans him a second time for good measure and then it begins to speak.  

Ryuji Sakamoto, age 16. No prior offenses. Citizen, please remain where you are. An officer has been dispatched to this location and will arrive shortly. Please do not leave the scene, as this could be taken as a sign of an attempt to resist arrest. There are no charges currently being brought against you. However, I will begin the Mirandizing process should this incident be taken to court in the future. In accordance with local laws, you have the right to remain silent-...

Ryuji pushes himself up onto his knees, listening to the security robot's electronic voice. His pulse pounds at the side of his forehead and he thinks for a moment about how fucked he currently is. He's going to be arrested. The moment that gets back to his father- Ryuji isn't sure what will happen then, but it knows that it won't be good. He debates on trying to run again, but the bots have already logged his identification code. There's a slim chance that they haven't yet transmitted it, but it's a long shot even then.  

In the distance, he can hear sirens.  

[quillandinkjournalism-blog]

{ @quillandinkjournalism | @nightmare-keef }

Jamie had been staying in Nightmare's suite for a few days now. He'd done a significant amount of work on his article, but wasn't ready to send it out. Otherwise, he'd spent much of his time trying, and failing, to relax. He'd kept to himself, really, aside from a few brief visits from Nightmare. He'd spent a lot of time crying over the last few wasted months. The fear of being alone. Trying to learn to readjust.

He wasn't sure why it felt like everything was falling apart now, when he was safe on the Massive and Christopher was far away. Loud noises still startled him and he still didn't feel like himself. He had night terrors. He'd gotten numb with Christopher; it became normal, like being with him was just how it was supposed to be.

Currently, Jamie lay in bed after trying to soothe himself with a long bath with unexpectedly luxurious products, having sat with a glass of wine and a book of poetry. But he felt worse the moment he got out, seeing that his bruises had hardly faded. His knee wasn't sore anymore, but he still bore the marks. After some time in bed, Jamie wiggled over for his phone, sending out a text.

[TXT] Hey Keef. Would you want to come visit with me for a little while?

Nightmare had been distracted easily over the last few days. He felt twitterpated all over again, just like he had when he and Jamie were first getting to know each other. But he knew that it just was not the time. It was not the place. There was healing to be done and boundaries that had to be upheld. Being supportive from a slight distance was the very best thing he could do for Jamie right now.

Not that it stopped his heart from settling in his throat whenever his phone chimed.

The redhead had been washing fruit for lunch when one such message came through, causing him to jump slightly, managing to slice his thumb on the blade. He cursed under his breath, bringing the finger up to his mouth as he read the message and typed one back with one hand.

[TXT] Of course. :D

[TXT] I am in the kitchen. Got any requests?

Jamie picked up his phone when the messages came through, tugging it under the blankets with him and reading them in the darkness of his covers, a small smile tugging at his lips at Nightmare's response. He'd always been such a sweetheart.

The brunette considered the question for a moment, smiling a little wider when he decided how to respond.

[TXT] Are there any of those fruit tarts left from dessert yesterday? I liked those. I think I could probably eat an entire tray of them if you let me.

[TXT] And maybe a cup of coffee.

He nestled further into the bed, holding his phone to his chest. He couldn't help the way his heart skipped a beat. Everything was so different, but even all of the things he knew about Nightmare now - the boy was so much the same. Sweet, loving, kind, reliable. He sighed softly.

Nightmare smiled softly at the response. Of course he wanted coffee. He would be legitimately surprised to find that the human's blood was not composed completely of the stuff.

[TXT] I am sure I can find a few of them left over. They are pretty much a staple of the royal household.

[TXT] And - cup o' Joe.  You got it.

The redhead set about gathering up as many of the Tarts as he could put on one tray and brewing some fresh coffee. Dib had been very particular about stocking legitimate coffee from Earth, quite unimpressed with the synthetic stuff the Irkens were able to replicate. He spent probably ly a bit longer than he needed to drawing a tiny Eiffel Tower in the foam of one oversized mug before setting it and the remaining pot on the tray and stepping forward, through the shadow and into the hallway just outside his room.

He raised his hand, rapping his knuckles against the metal door and called out, "Jamie? Can I come in? I come bearing gifts of coffee and snacks."

Jamie couldn't help the big grin that split across his features, tossing the blankets off of him and sitting up in the bed. "Yeah, of course. Come on in. It's open."

He was wearing a comfortable and extremely soft cream-colour oversized sweater, paired with simple black leggings and fluffy reading socks. It didn't seem to matter what time of year it was, when he was home he wore whatever was the most comfortable, even at risk of complaining about the temperature.

Not that it was evening at all, and he likely shouldn't have been hiding in bed - Jamie flushed a little and pulled the blanket up over his knees.

If Nightmare thought it was inappropriate to be lounging in bed at this time of day, he called exactly zero attention to it. Instead, he walked in with a bright smile on his face, wearing vibrantly green jeans and a black t-shirt with the logo for Wicked across the chest, paired with a green newspaper boy cap and suspenders. As he made his way over to his small table to set down the tray he greeted happily, "I have succeeded in acquiring a fair few tiny fruit tarts and some caffeine."

He picked up the coffee from the tray, carrying it over to the bed where he sat on the edge and handed it over to the human asking, "How are you feeling today, James?"

"Good," Jamie replied at first, smiling at Nightmare's adorable outfit and taking the coffee gently in his hands before he sighed and looked down at the little Eiffel Tower drawn in his foam. "Well. No, that's not entirely true," he began, "I was doing better this morning. And then I got into a bit of a funk, I guess."

Shooting his head back up, he forced a smile at Nightmare and added, "Thank you. For bringing me tarts and coffee. I'm glad to see you. How are you?"

Nightmare pouted slightly but within a moment his smile was back and he replied, "It is understandable for funks to happen. You have been through quite the ordeal."

He tilted his head to the side and asked sweetly, "Would you like to talk about it or would you like to be distracted from it?"

Jamie took a sip of his coffee, pulling a face when it was still just little too hot. "I think for now I would like to be distracted. But if I want to talk about it later would that be okay?"

He couldn't help but to curse himself under his breath, raising a hand to adjust his glasses uncomfortably. He really wasn't the type to ask things like that - if he was feeling something, normally Nightmare would get an earful of it while he stormed around the apartment, blathering about what it was that made him upset until he felt better. He did what he wanted, within reason of course, but he wasn't timid by any means.

Nightmare smiled softly and gave a nod, "Of course. I am always happy to listen to you but I will do my best at being entertaining unless you decide that a listening ear is something you want."

The redhead twisted his wrist in the air and was suddenly holding a deck of cards. Whether it was sleight of hand or actual magic was uncertain. He gave a smile and asked, "Wanna play some cards?"

Jamie laughed when the cards seemed to appear out of nowhere, picking up one of the tarts as he nodded, "Yes. I'd love to. But you know how bad I am at cards."

Nightmare smiled as he began to shuffle the cards, in a manner which he told himself was not an attempt to show off in any way, merely to entertain the boy and distract him from his woes, "You are plenty good at some games. I distinctly remember you beating me at Go Fish five hands in a row the night we moved downtown and they did not turn the power on until the next day."

He began to deal out some cards and asked, "M'kay, so do you want Go Fish or do you want Slap Jack?"

Jamie laughed, taking a big sip of his coffee before setting it on the table next to the bed and repositioning himself, sitting cross-legged across from Nightmare. "That was a really good night," He said, "We ordered really horrible takeout and I played music on my phone. Uh… Go Fish. I think my chances are a little better."

Nightmare grinned down at the cards as he mused back, "That was really the very worst Chinese food I have ever tasted in my life. What even was that mu shu wrap? I swear to Christ they just opened a pack of flour tortillas and called it good."

He looked up with a smirk and added, "I did make good on my word for vengeance in the form of a scathing Google review."

"You did. That was the best-worded negative review I've read in my life. You really should have turned it into slam poetry, honestly," Jamie giggled, sorting through the cards in his hands before looking up and asking, "Got any sixes?"

The redhead chuckled, plucking a six out of his hand and passing it over to the other. "I could probably track it down again. But I have never been much of a poet."

Nightmare kicked off his shoes before folding his legs up on the bed and getting a bit more comfortable. He smiled up at the brunette and said, "Maybe I could get a shitty fast food critic column in Quill and Ink, though. I will make them extra funny."

"Hah, thank you," Jamie said, taking the six and pairing them together. "I think you should do it. It would be really funny. And I am sure our readers would dig a bit more comedy. Do you still read it?" He asked, humming over his cards for a moment before adding, "Got any twos?"

"I can probably do that. Gives me a reason to eat out at all the shitty fast food places that I totally never go to because I am a good boy and always stick to my budget." He pulled a two from his hand, passing it over and adding, "That was sarcasm, by the by."

He flashed another smile and admitted, "Well, from my perspective it has been quite a while since I have read it. In the Nightmare and everything. But I do not think I have missed any issues."

"Sure you are," Jamie snickered and continued as he settled his twos, "I keep forgetting about that time difference. It was so quick for me that it's hard to remember you were gone for so long. What… What was it like there?" He asked, lowering his cards for a moment with a frown. "You haven't told me much about that place. Dib either, really."

Nightmare gave a shrug, but he continued to look up at the human, "Spooky. Cold. Dark. I mean it is like a reflection of this world, but just… way more fog and ambient screaming."

"Oh," Jamie said, chewing on his lip for a moment before continuing, "I'm sorry you got stuck in there again. All of you. Um. Have a Jack?" he asked a little awkwardly, casting Nightmare a light smile.

The redhead gave another shrug and replied with a smile, "It was not so bad without the Professor there. He was super fucked up. But like… the other Nightmares? They are alright people. We were on the Massive, kind of. But the Tallests had their nightmares and Dib and Zim. Even Mika and the smeets. And really they were alright. We all worked together to get through it because they were kind of separated from their reality too."

He plucked a Jack out of his hand and passed it over - how likely is it that he had been dealt all of these cards? That is neither here nor there.

"Oh," Jamie replied, raising his eyebrows as he took and sorted the Jacks off to the side, "I didn't know that. Is there a nightmare version of like… Everybody? How does that work? Aaaand do you have an ace?"

Keef hummed softly and replied. "It is really up to Dib, I would think. I know that the majority of the people that have doppelgangers are people who Dib had direct reason to fear, so it is hard to say who all made it in. I adore that boy but he has some issues."

He dropped his hands to his lap and added chipperly, "Go Fish."

Jamie laughed at the response, drawing from the pile and grinning widely when he drew his ace, showing it off to Keef with a snicker as he sorted it aside as well. "Looks like Go Fish is the game for me. And he really does. Always had, that one," he snickered, asking, "What about a nine?"

Nightmare grinned widely at the remark, glancing down at the four cards left in his hand and musing, "It certainly looks like you are stomping me." He plucked a nine from his hand and passed it over adding, "We should play cards more often."

"You'll have to teach me some more games," Jamie said with a grin, setting the cards aside and humming for a minute before he scooped them all up together. "I'm gonna chalk that up as a win. Sit with me?" He asked, handing the cards all to Nightmare and settling back in the pillows, picking up another tart and eating it more slowly.

Nightmare snatched up his own cards as well as Jamie's, shuffling them once back into the deck which seemed to simply vanish in his hand as he nodded at the request. The redhead began to crawl along the bed until he was able to turn and rest against the headboard and mused, "I would be happy to teach you some new games. I bet you would really like War or Speed. They are a lot of fun."

"Yeah? It might be nice to know how to play some different ones. Maybe one day I'll actually be pretty good," Jamie replied, smiling at Nightmare before he decided to lean in a little bit, just nearly resting against him but leaving enough space so they weren't quite touching, not wanting to overstep any boundaries.

Nightmare did not miss the sudden much closer proximity. His cheeks flushed brightly and he lifted his eyes to look at the ceiling, wringing the hem of his shirt in his hands as he mentally told himself that he was a professional and he had to be able to not give in to the fluttering feelings in his chest. He nodded and replied, "Yeah. I would love to teach you some games and I am sure you will catch on in no time. It will be lots of fun."

Jamie didn't miss the signs of nervousness. He knew Nightmare well enough at this point, and besides, he acted much the same way on their first few dates, even clumsily knocking a tray of dishes out of the server's hands by accident. Jamie scooched a little closer, leaning just slightly into Nightmare and replying, "It will be. Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?"

Keef glanced back up at Jamie, flushing all the brighter as the human closed more of the gap between them and he responded with a timid smile, "Not really. I was just planning on spending some time with you. I do not have much in the way of work right now because even though I was gone for two years I am still, technically, on the two-month sabbatical that I took from my practice. Not on probation anymore though. The Tallests are considering it 'time served' and just wrote off my charges."

"Well, I'm really glad to hear that your probation is finished. You can come and go as you like now, yeah?" Jamie asked, smiling down at Nightmare and humming as he snuggled a bit closer. "It's funny. We'd always talked about taking a vacation together and we were always so busy with our work we never got the chance."

Nightmare chuckled softly, bringing one hand up to his hair nervously, accidentally knocking off his cap as Jamie pressed himself against him and replied, "I ah. Oops. Yeah. I guess I can. You know… leave if I wanted to." He took a shaky breath before flashing a bright smile up at the human and asking, "If you were able to take a vacation, where would you want to go?"

Jamie giggled, plucking up the fallen cap and putting it on himself, sending his fluff of brown hair into his eyes before resting his head on Nightmare's shoulder. "I dunno. Somewhere warm I think. Cocktails by the pool. Or maybe somewhere historical and fabulous like Prague or Rome, or maybe Berlin. What about you? I guess with space travel that opens up a ton of options, huh?" He asked, reaching down to pick up one of Keef's hands in both of his own, turning it over to trace lines on his palm and examining his green nail polish.

"I like warm places," Nightmare replied distractedly as Jamie leaned against him and took his hand. He cleared his throat softly and added, "I ah. I have always wanted to go to Ireland. I mean. Not exactly warm. But I like the green. Or ah. Rome would be nice, yeah."

"A holiday in Rome would be incredible," Jamie agreed, falling silent for a few moments and turning to look at Nightmare, catching the blush on his cheeks against the stunning green of his eyes. It was like being with him took away all the worry and difficulty he had been dealing with. Leaning forward, he cautiously pressed a chaste kiss against Nightmare's cheek before pulling back again.

Nightmare was not certain he could blush any harder until the instant that he absolutely did. He shifted his hand to touch the spot on his cheek with the tips of his fingers, letting out a soft sigh. He looked up at the human with his brow furrowed and said softly, barely above a whisper, "I… I'm a monster, James. You don't… you don't want to do this."

Jamie blinked a couple of times at Nightmare's words, raising a hand up to caress his cheek with a slightly concerned expression. "Keef… I have seen you. I know what you are. But more importantly, I know who you are. And even more importantly than that, I don't think anyone, especially now, has any right to tell me what I do and don't want. And I want to kiss you."

Nightmare sighed softly, leaning into the touch but averting his eyes at the words. He wrung his shirt in his hands and said quietly, "I want to. I have missed you so much. I have wanted nothing more than to kiss you for such a long time. I..  I worry though. That with everything you have gone through… that I might be taking advantage."

Jamie's expression softened at Nightmare's words, taking the boy's hands in his own to stop their wringing, squeezing them tightly. "All I've wanted since that day I left the Massive was to see you again. And I thought maybe if… Maybe if I had a stupid little rebound fling that I could come back to you clear headed."

He sighed and looked away, resting into Nightmare slightly. "But it got out of hand. It's my fault, I shouldn't have - I should've been more confident in myself that you were what I wanted. You've always been what I wanted."

Nightmare did not stop Jamie from taking his hands and slowly turned his eyes upward to look at him as he spoke, though he had the general look of a dog begging for scraps or affection.  He swallowed thickly, his mouth feeling incredibly dry as he asked softly, "Are… are you sure?"

"Yes," Jamie replied, leaning in just slightly and looking into Nightmare's eyes. "Yes, I'm absolutely positive. Please. Kiss me."

The redhead brought his bottom lip between his teeth at the answer. It was the answer that he definitely wanted to hear. The one that he had hoped for and fantasized about for years. He had a hard time though, shaking away the fear that he was doing more harm than good.

But, even with the nagging fear Nightmare pressed forward to gently catch Jamie's lips, kissing him softly and sweetly. He brought his hand up to rest against the human's jaw and he could not help but to purr softly into it.

Jamie immediately melted into the kiss, leaning forward to return it just as softly and letting his eyes slip closed. He let out a happy hum, sliding his hands up to grasp Nightmare by the suspenders, smiling just slightly into the kiss. It was everything he had wanted, too. It was like everything settled back into place.

Nightmare had forgotten how soft Jamie was, how sweet he tasted and how perfectly they seemed to fit together. He wanted to give into all the feelings that he had managed to bury down deep for so long, to tousle with the human in the sheets and feel him more thoroughly. But instead be gave a few more very soft kisses and pulled away just enough to say, "I missed you so much, Jamie."

Jamie whined when Nightmare pulled back from the kiss, but he was still smiling when he replied, "I missed you too Keef. I really, really missed you." He leaned forward again, kissing Nightmare a little more deeply, letting his hands slide up along his chest. His lips were perfect, all that he had been craving for months.

Nightmare gave a soft moan into the kiss, pressing forward to meet the enthusiasm of Jamie's kiss with equal exuberance. He could not really believe that this is how this situation ended up panning out. He had spent so long trying to get over this boy. He didn't even dare imagine that someday Jamie would want to take him back.

The redhead pulled away again, catching his breath but managing to say, "James. I think. Um. I think we should slow down. A little… can… can we maybe just. I dunno. Cuddle, maybe?"

Jamie was flushed when Nightmare pulled away from him, panting lightly. He looked to the redhead with a smile, nodding and holding his arms open for Nightmare to snuggle up to him. "It… Yes. It's probably a good idea. To slow down. C'mere."

Nightmare let out a sigh of relief when Jamie agreed to slow down. It was, by no means, because he did not want this. But he did not want to fuck this up. The redhead moved into the space created by the boy's outstretched arms, pressing his head against his chest and purring softly at the sweet contact.

He let his hands rest on Jamie's chest, fingers flexing softly in the fabric of his sweater much like a cat kneading. Nightmare glanced up at the boy and quietly said, "Thank you, Jamie."

"I should be thanking you, Keef," Jamie hummed, wrapping his arms around Nightmare and lifting a hand to pet his hair. "I'd be so lost without you. I'm sorry I'm still… A little loopy. It's worse when I'm alone." He leaned down, pressing a kiss into Keef's hair. "There are very few things that make sense right now, or that feel right. But you do."

Nightmare refrained from stating that a monster making sense and feeling right spoke volumes about the boy's mental state. While he felt it was true, it was unhelpful.

Instead, he snuggled close to him, hiding his face in the thick fabric of his sweater and purred softly into the crook of his neck as he whispered, "You do not have to be alone anymore."

Jamie held Nightmare firmly, reveling in finally being close to him again and allowing himself what he’d been wanting all this time. “I know,” he replied quietly, not sure that there was anything else left to say. He let himself go quiet, just enjoying Nightmare’s company and the closeness of him, the way his hands felt against his chest.

[movedtoprsmise]

180906 LY Tour: D-4

this is gonna be really long, feel free to ignore! it’s mainly for myself!

my friend and i got to la on wednesday (9/5) the day before our concert and lined up at about 7:30 pm to set up camp. we had small folding chairs and 2 blankets, a cooler, our bags of clothes, and a bag of extra snacks. not too long after arriving, 2 girls came down the line to give us our numbers (which they wrote on our hands) and to write our names and numbers in their notebook. i was number 382. the girl behind us in line arrived at the same time and was really cool and experienced with kpop concerts and told us what kind of things to expect and stuff. we were really thankful for her lmao. i still had a cold and i called my parents to bring me some cold medicine as well as some sweaters for me and my friend because it got cold pretty fast and we were not dressed for that weather at all. for a few hours we just sat and talked with the girl and she told us about how she saw SHINee and all these other groups. at 12 am we tried for an hour to sleep but to no avail.

some more time passed and it continued to get colder and girls continued to pull up in cars to go and line up at the back. our spot in line was a cockroach attraction and idk how many times my friend and i threw our blankets off to stand up because of roaches. the korean lady next to us in line took bug spray out and tried to help us a bunch. she was rly sweet and cute. at 2 am i had to pee so we walked to the bathroom everyone was using which was decently far away and on the way back we saw girls doing choreo out in the blocked off street to pass time. it was really cute and i wanted to join but i was too shy ndkfndnd. it was rly crackhead hours tho. anyone who wasnt asleep was losing their minds bc we hadnt slept and we knew we were gonna be awake for a long long time. couple more hours passed and my friend and i managed to sleep for 10-45 minutes sometime between 4 and 5 am. we forced ourselves to drink some small protein drinks and then when the sun came up at 6 am, some workers showed up in trucks and began building a fence around us campers. we guessed it was to block us off from the streets

a few more hours passed of trying to squeeze some more sleep in and failing to do so. at 9 am we walked to the bathroom to get dressed because it was getting really close to wristband time and i forgot to take my toothbrush, makeup and deodorant to the bathroom with me and ended up having to do it all in line which was a tad embarrassing but it was fine. then near 10 am the line suddenly began to pack up and move forward and we panicked bc we had too much stuff and the mini-cooler was rather heavy. we made it really far up in line before my parents showed up to pick the stuff up. but it was reallyreally hard to get the stuff to a place where they would be able to pick it up. we had to ask the girl behind us to hold our spot while we carried everything down the line and across the street to where my parents could easily pull over and grab it up. that was extremely hard. then complications happened with the line where people had crowded to the front of the line, making a mess to where the staff couldnt bring us in.

so, a girl came down the line to tell us all to move back in order to make room at the front of the line, all the while groups of girls were being sent to the back of the line for crowding and the rest of us were able to move into a more orderly line.

at 10:30 they began pulling us in 10 people at a time to line up for our wristbands! once we got in we were put into this metal fencing where we waited as they handed out our ga wristbands that had our numbers on them.

because of the crowding that had happened, my number was now 410. after getting our wristbands it was about and we were allowed to leave and told to come back at 4:30 pm to form the official line. so we went to get our merch which had a line that wrapped around the block and we waited in that line for about 3 hours, which sucked. it was hot and the line was ridiculously long and i kept squatting in line to stretch my back out and to give my feet a break. my friend looked like she wanted to die in that line ndjdndn. once we finally got our merch, i gave up on going to the bts studio bc i didnt wanna wait in another line.

(i bought the jimin premium photo, the jimin picket, and the tour jacket 😣💓)

i called my parents and had them pick us up and take us to our hotel so we could get some sleep in before the concert. we slept until 2:45, woke up, picked up food, and then went back to staples to sit and eat on the ground somewhere before going to the ga line again. at 4:30 they let us all in and called up groups of 100 at a time based on numbers (ex: “numbers 1-100 line up” and got us situated in numerical order.

everyone 500 and under had to wait for us before they could start lining up. we sat in that line for about 2 hrs while soundcheck went in and came back out. and as 6 pm came closer a security guard kept messing with us by announcing how many minutes were left before we’d be allowed inside and we’d scream every time djkddnjdj. they finally began letting us in and we had to line up at different doors with metal detectors and get our bags checked. the girl in front of me in line was told to put her pride flag in her bag because it was too big to hold up at the show /: then we crossed to a table where we got our entrance wristbands and we flocked into the venue to secure our spots on the GA floor. we had to stand there for 2 hours until showtime and it was so painful bc our feet and backs were killing us after standing for nearly the entire day but the bts mv’s they played made it a little easier as the venue filled up around us

the people in the higher sections began syncing their army bombs and my friend and i fussed over our own and couldnt figure out why it wasnt working until a girl told us what we werent doing and we fixed it djkddknf then the lights got darker and darker and an intro video began to play on the big screens and everyone lost their fucking minds and then idol began to play and bts was right! there!! on the main stage and it was like i was in a dream. 😞 when they came to the mini stage all breath left my lungs , i

overall the experience was stressful, painful, exhausting, sweaty, and emotionally draining but it was easily the best night of my life and id do it all again in a heartbeat. they were beyond incredible and im immensely proud to be a fan of bts. 😔💗

[chezzkaa]

Cinders - Chapter 16/36

All Chapters

SUMMARY: The plan’s coming together, and you’re gonna take that son of a bitch down as soon as the surveillance operations become obsolete.

WC: 1996

Geoff’s finger jabs at the map plastered to the cork board behind him, the wall scattered with photos, pins and different coloured string as well as numbers and receipts. There was even a small sketch done by who you can only assume to be Jeremy, based upon the illustration of Gareth and the small orange and purple figure throttling him. “This,” starts Geoff, turning to circle the location he was indicating to with red texter “is the last place we had tabs on the fucker.”

The room has settled now, the jokes and cheery attitudes having faded into the floor as the severity of the situation glares at them from Geoff’s workings. You tried to ignore the glances you were getting from the members at the table, certain both Jeremy and Ray were attempting to do the same. The thought of him tied your stomach in knots, anger lapping at your shoulders and caressing the fists you had found your hands balled into; nails digging into your palms as you rest them on the tops of your thighs under the table.

Geoff continues to talk, his words forcing their way through the water that was clogging your mind, distant and strained as he circles other areas of the map. The place you were held, what appears to be his favourite coffee shop, his house, his daughter’s apartment and finally his general – and more importantly traceable - movements. You nod numbly, focusing on the pain in your palms to keep yourself grounded, the Cheshire beginning to stretch out from the ball she had curled into within your chest, burning with rage. Ryan’s hand makes it way under the table to your fist, gently unfurling in and holding it tightly in his own, giving a subtle and comforting squeeze without looking at you.

Thankful for the contact the water begins to rush from your mind, the room clearing and voices now crisp and audible. “We’ve managed to isolate a few men that we believe to be close to him,” Geoff says, slapping three photographs up on the board, their faces staring furiously at you from inside their mug shots. “Now, we don’t know much about them other than their names, and now this is Jack’s bit so i’m done,” he admits as he starts to pace before motioning to Jack, of who stands and takes over, tossing a pile of stapled assignment papers into the centre of the table.

Crawling across it, Ray slides onto his belly to reach for the pile among the flurry of hands that do the same, pulling three towards him and handing them out to you. With your free hand you thumb through the pages, stopping on the second photo of the men Geoff had mentioned as being of interest, leg stinging. His dishwasher water eyes stare back at you, set deep within his pink, square face as he scowls at the camera.

You can’t hear Jack’s voice anymore as she gives Intel on the other men, the room spinning while you as you glare down at the page, your grip beginning to crumple the paper as anger throbs around you. Taking notice Ryan subtly takes the booklet from you, removing the page ahead of folding it and sliding it to Ray, of who stuffs it quickly into his purple hoodie. You lay your hand flat on the assignment, trying to calm yourself as Ryan starts to rub his thumb across your own, urging you gently to breath.

“An then we’ve got Garry Booker,” Jack’s words come crashing through the wall you had found yourself behind, your body immediately tensing at the name, Jeremy flashing you a concerned look from across the table. “I knew he was a Garry,” you spit, words harsh as your jaw sets defensively, Jack patiently giving you a quizzical look; “you know him?” “Know him?” you bark, feeling your face grow bitter, the fire crackling inside of your leg, “he’s the asshole that drove nails through my leg.” Your accusation falls with a thud onto the table, causing the rest of the crew to squirm. Jack, however, nods in understanding, smiling apologetically at you.

“In that case,” she says, leaning over her notebook and adding some scribbles, “I want Jeremy and Ryan to keep away from this mission.” Ryan is defensive beside you now, offended as he demands why, only to be met with a shrug from Jack. “Too personal” she tells him, but he doesn’t drop it, “then how come Ray’s still allowed on it?!”

“Because he literally gives no shits.” “It’s true, I haven’t been in days.” “Ray.” “I’m dead inside.” “RAY.”

“It’s a serious problem,” he mumbles, sinking back into his seat as the stream team guffaws, Jeremy banging the table as tears well in his eyes, unable to contain his laughter. “Well, don’t be dead on the outside,” you tell Ray with a smile, but he glares at you, lips curling for comedic relief, “don’t tell me to live my life.” You drop your head to the table, resting it against the wood as it shakes, Jeremy still smashing his fist into it, the exuberant man now a pile of uncontrollable giggles. “I fucking hate you,” you groan, Ryan tentatively patting you on the back while giving Ray an encouraging grin; “that’s the spirit.”

“I fucking hate all of you,” sighs Geoff, trying to steer the room back to the briefing, Jack’s head in her hand. “Okay, so,” she says loudly, waving her notebook around, drawing back everyone’s attention, “teams and roles, remember this cus I’m not telling you assholes again.” Ryan slinks in his seat as he stretches his free arm above his head and rests it behind his head, clearly irritated. You couldn’t blame Jack for making such a split decision, knowing full well the destruction that could have occurred if the Vagabond had come face to face with any of the men that had tortured his family. Still, you did feel slightly sorry for him knowing he would ghost around the base, lost with nothing to do.

“As usual,” Jack points to the stream team across from you, who wave from their seats, “We’ve got Trevor and Matt on surveillance. They’ll be able to monitor all of their accounts, online activities, contents-“ “Err... not entirely,” interjects Trevor, flinching slightly and the 6 foot woman gives him an irritated look. “What he means,” finishes Matt, jumping in to divert the anger, “is that metadata doesn’t work like that. You can’t just see someone’s emails. I mean, sure, we can track the GPS signals, cell tower hits, their friends, their friend’s friends, all of their contacts, the type of...” he trails off as Geoff clears his throat, urging him to get to the point.

“I’m saying that we can’t see what he says, but we’ll have all the other information needed to know if something suspicious is going on, and decode the content where required.” “You interrupted me to say something I already knew?” “Yes, that is exactly what we did,” admits Matt sheepishly, his face turning the same colour of the wisps in his hair, Trevor concluding their point; “we needed to establish that we know how security works”

You throw them a thumbs up, easing the fear they felt towards you into something that resembled apprehensiveness. “Alright so Trevor and Matt are on surveillance; but none of that movie bullshit. That’s very important. Ray, I want you to help them out,” Jack points to him without looking up to see Ray wiggling his cybernetic fingers teasingly at Matt and Trevor, their eyes wide and in awe of the lights flashing from his finger tips. “You’ll be able help out with hacking and diagnoses as needed.” “Nah, i’m not a doctor,” he jokes, an expectant grin on his face while he waits for your giggling to subside. Jack, however, tries hard not to acknowledge him of which prompts the rushed explanation in a higher pitch, “you know, cus hacking is like coughing, which you should probably go to the doctors for, and-” Jack finally glares at him, her lips a thin line as Ray sinks into his chair until his chin is level with the table. 

“No one understands me.” “No one wants to.”

Jack returns her gaze to the notebook, crossing off the names as she works her way through. “Nice Dynamite,” she jabs a pen in the direction of Michael and Gavin, both of whose faces are serious and menacing, “You guys will be tailing 1 and 3.” They nod in unison, sharing a mischievous look with their eyebrows raised. Ignoring them, Jack forges onwards, now pointing to Geoff, who looks at her with immense admiration and respect, “Team OG, we’re gonna keep an eye on the Garry guy, he seems like he might be the most promising target to get in contact with Gareth.” Geoff cracks his knuckles with a lopsided smirk, crossing his legs; “No problems here.”

“I want him after your done” you order, your voice icy and malicious, Ryan nodding in agreement besides you as Ray mutters a ‘hell yeah’ from your side. Jack fixates on your face, taking in the smoothness of your features, the angle of your eyebrows and the flatness of your eyes as they blacken before turning to Geoff. The tattooed man shrugs, “seems like a fair request,” shooting you an approving smile, “it’s only right”. “Can I get in on that?” pipes up Jeremy after a moment, his eyes eager as you affirm his request.

Placing the notebook down, Jack rests her hands on the table, leaning into her words “Lindsay and Meg have ended their trip early to come and help us out,” she says, Michael and Gavin growing incredibly interested and hopeful. “They’ll be here in the next few hours to be briefed. We’re gonna have Team Free Willy on Gareth.” “When did you say they’d be here?” squeaks Gavin, slowly beginning to stand up from his seat, Michael close behind him. “The plane gets in at 11, they should be here relatively soon if everything goes to plan,” Jack explains, narrowing her eyes as the two men start to inch their way to the exit, spluttering their excuses.

“We’re just gonna go and, err,” “You know, make sure the rooms are, well-” “-and we’ve gotta change the...” “I mean, it would be rude not to,” “I don’t wanna be rude.” “me neither, boi.” Everyone laughs as they watch the two men scamper over each other and out the door, their excited yelling echoing down the halls as they race to clean up before the women arrive.

Sighing, Ryan leans into you dramatically as all eyes shift to him in surprise; none having realised it was Ryan at the table and not the Vagabond. Clutching one hand to his chest and waving the other after the two men, he smiles and sighs again, “young love.” “Gross” you crinkle your nose and bump him away playfully, his face beaming. Jeremy pulls himself onto this chair, cupping his hands around his mouth before taking a deep breath and hollering “get a room!”

Shooting him a look, you swiftly pull a stress ball from one of the shelves behind you and hurl it at the young man, Jeremy wobbling as he loses his balance and topples to the ground. “Ten points!” cheers Ray climbing on his own chair, Ryan clapping loudly beside you. The rest of the crew slowly becomes comfortable with the personality shift, sharing relived glances as they join in the mass of noise now taking over the room. Rolling her eyes, Jack moves to stand behind Geoff and rests her chin on top of his head, her arms draping over his shoulders as she complains. 

“You’re right” she tells him, his moustache twitching into a smiling response, “it’s a zoo”. Geoff laughs in waves, his voice brightening the room as he slowly turns red, “we run a fucking zoo.”