#let the boys all sing the boys all shout for tomorrow

[mikkomacko]

timo and some of the guys taking reader out drinking and returning to an angry nico with a drunk reader

You did nothing wrong, to be fair.

Well maybe not entirely since you never once told Nico that you weren’t in fact having a quiet night at home anymore.

It was supposed to be a cute and cozy movie night for the two of you, but Nico had some stuff to work out with Lee and the Isles so he’d gone over to Elmont with Jonas and Jesper.

And whatever deal or job they were working out had run far longer than they thought it would. Nico was gonna be home late, something he swore he’d make up for by cooking you dinner tomorrow night, whatever you wanted, and then snuggling with you on the couch after.

It was a fair deal. So you weren’t upset. That and you know how this life goes. It’s very unpredictable and you’ve learned to adapt.

Which is exactly what you did when Timo’s contact lit up your phone screen ten minutes after Nico rescheduled your date.

“Come to the bar with us tonight!” He had said in place of a greeting, and you could hear the muffled voices of the other boys in the background.

“I don’t Teems,” you mumbled, eyeing the couch and fuzzy blankets you’d laid out earlier.

The line rustled, Timo’s disgruntled shout trailing away as someone stole the phone from him.

“Come on boss,” it was Mercer, words already a little sloppy. “We can’t go out without our leader, and we’d rather have you than Nico anyway.”

Before you could answer, overlapping shouts of encouragement and jeering interrupted whatever excuse you were trying to come up with. Instead you laughed.

“Alright alright! I’ll be ready in half an hour, someone better be outside to pick me up!”

That was four hours ago.

Four hours of scream singing Kesha in the car with Jack, Luke, and Holtzy who were your drivers for the night. Four hours of slipping into Nico’s seat at the private booth, martini and martini coming to the table. They were unstopping, always with extra garnishes, and always at the ready like some weird fountain of youth. Four hours of trying to out drink Mercer and out dance Timo. Four hours of keg standing behind the bar with Lazar and Dermy.

Lazar gives out first, legs awkwardly slipping from Haula’s hold and his boots crash heavily into the wood floor. The boys holler like drunk frat boys at a football game, Dermy slapping at your calf in celebration and you let the nozzle slip from your lips.

Dermy carefully drops your legs, your toes barely touching the ground before him, Timo, and Mercer are squeezing around you. Head spinning, from both alcohol and being upside down, you laugh as Timo lifts you up. Hanging over his shoulder you find Jack, the older Hughes boy just as plastered and lining up a row of fireball shots.

“Miss boss!” He yells, messily waving you over and you stretch your arms out towards him.

“Jacky!” You call, words slurring but enough for him to comprehend. And Timo too because he stumbles around the counter to Jack, placing you on the sticky bar top.

Mercer’s head pops up next to you, propped on his elbows and his eyes twinkle when he sees the shot glasses.

“We should close the bar for just us more often.” Mercer laughs, shaking sweaty strands of hair off his forehead. Haula claps him on the shoulder, a shit eating grin on his face when he looks between the group of you.

“And leave Nico at home!” He teases, winking at you. You laugh, elbow digging into Mercers shoulder as you lean over him to get closer to Haula.

“But I like him!” You defend, swaying a bit when Mercer adjusts his stance in order to accept the overflowing shot glass Jack is hanging him. “He’s so fun!”

They all groan in unison, dramatically hanging their heads as if you just said the most  egregious sentence ever spoken.

“Babe,” Jack pouts, “you don’t have to lie to us. You can say you’re with him because he’s hot.”

He hands you a shot glass. “What?” You gasps, then giggle drunkenly. “He’s so fun. We should invite him.”

Jack and Mercer share a look. “You must not be drunk enough. Hurry and down that.”

You don’t need to be told twice. The group of you messily clink glasses together, fireball dripping down your fingers and then you’re tossing it back.

Heat licks at your throat and chest, enough to make your voice hoarse when you jab a finger at Jack’s shoulder. “Don’t be mean to my Nico, mister.”

He holds his hands up in defense. “M’just saying, he doesn’t have a lot of hobbies.”

“Boring,” Haula cackles. “He’s saying he’s boring.”

“That is so not true!” You shout, shocked that any of them could say that. “Take that back Jack!”

The boy giggles, smacking Timo on the chest before nodding at you. “Beat me at a keg off and I’ll take it back!”

Not one to shy away from a challenge, especially when drunk, you push yourself off the bar with gangly limbs. Timo reaches out to steady you, helping you to your feet with a drunken laugh.

“Dermy,” you shout, “get my feet. We’re kegging!”

~~~~~

Which is where Nico finds you two minutes later, sitting on Timo and Dermy’s shoulders with the leg nozzle hanging from your lips and Jack on his knees behind the bar, puking into the trash can.

You don’t see him at first, triumphantly holding your fists in the air while the two men bounce you in time with all the boys cheering. Luke is at your feet, a wide grin plastered on his face and phone out taking either a video or a photo.

Not that it matters to you, sticking your tongue out and squeezing your eyes shut as you lean forward into the camera. Time has to grab your thigh to keep you from falling, laughing when you cheer “suck on that Jacky boy!”

You can hear Jack trying to rebuttal, but it’s quickly cut off by the ear piercing whistle that rings through the empty bar.

Everyone freezes, half of you out of fear and the other half out of drunken surprise. Because three men are in the entryway of the bar, Jesper and Jonas trying to hide amused smiles as they take in the scene in front of them.

You plastered and on the shoulders of Timo and Dermy, the boys jeering you on. And Jack on the floor, two seconds away from passing out.

You’re too focused on the beautiful man in front though, unfazed by the scowl on his lips and the pinch between his eyebrows. He’s still in the dress pants he wore this morning, but his button up has been abandoned in favor of a black tank top, so tight you think you can see his abs through it.

“What is going on here?” Nico growls, arms crossed over his chest. Your eyes fall to his biceps, mouth pooling with saliva as they flex.

Timo and Dermy drop you, not enough for it hurt but enough that it makes your knees wobble and buckle, only staying upright when Luke’s body gets in the way of you falling.

“Oh shit,” Timo mutters. “Sorry babe.”

You don’t care. All you care about is the beautiful, beautiful man up front that’s staring at you so heatedly you think you might melt.

“Nicoooo!” You sing, stumbling through the crowd of boys and towards your boyfriend. He meets you halfway, sighing heavily when you trip on your own feet and wobble forward.

Crashing into his chest, you slink your arms around his middle, wrap your right leg around his left and squish your cheek into his body. Nico wraps an arm around you to keep you steady, fingers tight around your bicep.

“Whose bright idea was this?” Nico calls out, gruff and annoyed. You can hear muttering behind you, all the boys arguing over who to blame and who kept serving drinks and who challenged who and who even planned this in the first place.

Sleepy, you tuck your chin into his chest and blink up Nico. “Don’t be mad, why are you mad?”

Nico sighs softly, peering down at you with a raised eyebrow. “You didn’t think to tell me that you wouldn’t be at home tonight?” He asks, though it doesn’t actually sounds like a question.

“Or maybe answer your phone when I text? Or again when I call? Five times?”

Confused, you slap at the back pocket of your jeans, frowning when you come up empty handed. You have no idea where your phone is.

“Lost,” you respond, clinging tighter to Nico when he looks over your head and nudges forward, free hand stretching out. Then he’s wiggling your phone in front of you, an amused frown on his face when you smile.

“You found it! It’s because you’re so smart, I know you’re so smart and fun. And funny too, like when you make that face.”

Your fingers find his mouth, tracing over his pout fondly. Nico ignores your touch and slips your phone into your back pocket.

“I was worried,” he scolds, voice deep and rumbly. “Especially when you didn’t answer the fifth call…”

Nico looks at you pointedly, and it settles heavily in your gut when you finally realize what he’s saying. You’d gone MIA on him pretty much. As soon as Luke and Holtzy were knocking on your door, you’d forgotten everything except that Jack had Jell-O shots in the back seat and Luke is good on aux.

You never told Nico where you were going or how long. And then you never answered your phone.

Okay maybe you did technically do something wrong.

“Nico,” you gasps softly, dropping your right foot back to the ground and standing up straight. “M’sorry. I just-Luke and then Jack, and Mercer called me boss, and then we were having fun-“

“Oh I know,” he interrupts. “I had about ten videos from Jack of you on the bar and then on the keg and on the dance floor.”

Maybe he’s a tiny bit amused now, ready to let everything go. You smile innocently, cheeks heating up as he recounts your drunken fun. Nico nods to the Devs behind him.

“Someone get Jack home. The rest of you clean up and get out.”

Immediately they jump into action, scuffling and chatting lowly as the sober help the drunk home. You imagine Luke is in charge of Jack and you wince.

“What?” Nico mumbles, brushing your hair out of your face.

“I made Jack throw up.” You whisper, giggling quietly. “And now Luke has to clean him up.”

Nico blinks. “Good, maybe it’ll teach them to grow up.”

You pout. “I’m older than them.”

“You don’t need to grow up. You can stay just like this.”

“Because you’ve got me?”

Pride glimmers in his dark eyes. “Because I got you.”

Nico takes you home after that, holds your hand in the car and talks you through chugging a bottle of water on the ride there. And he helps you inside, an arm around your waist when you stumble through the front door. And he even holds your hair when you dash into the kitchen to throw up.

Even if he is angry or annoyed, he’s got you.

[dotster001]

For Tuna; Rook End

A/N: editing this is gonna suck, cause Tumblr is so glitchy today 😭 but as I'm sure no one is surprised...some of you have been waiting a long time for this specific ending, so I figured he deserved his own title . The next ending is a three way tie, so keep an eye out for a poll in the next couple days.

Chapters One Two Three Choose another End

“Rook Hunt, you have been chosen-”

“At last! The moment has come!”

Grim was immediately second guessing his decision. Y/N had told him all about how Rook's family had multiple villas, so he'd thought he'd be willing to put up with him the one day a year he'd have to. But the man was far too excited.

“Wonderful,” Grim said through gritted teeth. “So what we'll do is, tomorrow-”

“You're adorable, Monsieur Fuzzball. No need for that though!”

“Huh?”

“I don't need you. Au revoir!”

Rook practically skipped out of the room, singing a cheery tune to himself.

….

Grim was terrified. All day he'd been waiting for whatever Rook had planned. He'd stuck to your side all day, quivering in anxiety.

“Okay, Grim, what's wrong?” You asked, finally tired of ignoring it for the sake of his pride.

“N- nothing is wrong, human! You insult me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered. 

You closed the book you'd been reading during the break in the lesson, and turned to him.

“Okay, so what's not wrong, then?”

Grim mumbled under his breath. But you soon forgot all about it, as the lights in the classroom dimmed, followed by a shower of rose petals raining down on all of you.

“Who is responsible?” Trein bellowed, but he was soon forgotten as well, as Rook appeared at the front under a single spotlight, violin music playing to his entrance.

“Bon jour!”

“What the fuck?” You whispered, quickly realizing that Grim was no longer by your side. He must have taken the opportunity to flee classes. Little rat.

“I am here because I can no longer keep silent about my affections!” He pressed one hand to his heart, the other dramatically extending to the classroom. “I am deeply in love.”

You looked to see if Trein would stop him, but just watched him sigh. Even the teacher knew to just let Rook be Rook. 

“Mon Trickster! My heart beats so hard for you, it is apt to burst into a bloody mess of my adoration.”

There was now a second spotlight on you. You looked around to see where it was coming from, only to find there was no source of it.

A gust of wind picked up around Rook, making the rose petals that had fallen to the floor pick up, and swirl around him.

“Mon Tresor, say that you will allow me to forever kneel at your feet. Say that you will allow me to sing your adoration until my vocal cords tear. Say that I can write you poetry until my fingers fall off. Say-”

“God, Rook! I'd rather have you in one piece,” you cut him off with a laugh.

He stood upright with a light smile, swirling a finger in the air to turn the rose petals into a single rose. He gently kissed it, then tossed it to you across the classroom. You caught it, sniffing it and letting the aroma wash over you.

By the time you looked back up, he was standing right in front of you. You blinked, looking at the spot he was standing, then back at where he stood now. He smiled as though he was unperturbed by your confusion.

“If I stay in one piece, will you pledge your soul to me?” He asked sweetly.

“My soul? Not my heart?”

“For Seven’s sake, tell the boy whether you love him or not, so I can move on with the class,” Trein snapped.

“Okay! Rook, I like you too!” You said quickly.

“How exciting!” He snapped his fingers, and you heard the beginning of an orchestral intro. 

Rook inhaled heavily, and began to sing.

“Goodness, class dismissed!” Trein shouted over the aria, which was not going to stop anytime soon. You gave Trein a pleading look. While you liked Rook, and were totally happy to start seeing him, this song sounded like it would go on for a while. Trein gave you an apologetic look as he shut the door of the classroom, locking it behind him.

....

Tag list-@shytastemakerthing @stygianoir @leonia0 @lleoll @eccedentesiast-sapphic @supertmntgirl @cxsmicdustdreams @aethermostbeloved @krystalkiller25 @asmallbean3 @theneurodivergentdummy @candlewitch-cryptic @smilingfox22-blog @phantomgaming1920 @the-dumber-scaramouche @noidonothavetimeforthis @bontensbabygirl @xxoomiii @somany-fandoms-solittle-time @bre99 @stupidsimp @sus0daddy @a-small-tyrant @imlost-sendhelp @mizukiblogs @redglasstear @ondragonhonour @1fandom2many @h3110-dar1in9 @ny0000mw00m @dreamlessnight @2dsimp @professionalreblogs @bigmoose1964

[daisyblog]

I Think I'm In Love

Our Story Masterlist Summary: Fans meet YN at LOT Wembley N4.

Based on this request. Also a big thank you to @onlyangle1 for helping me.

Molly and Ava, two best friends who shared their love and obsession for Harry Styles. The pair had waited for what felt like years for this day. The day they finally got to use their Harry Styles Love On Tour tickets.

They had tickets for the front area of the standing pitch. Despite not being at the barricade and having an up close view of the man himself, they were content in being at the concert and having a large space around them, to be able to dance and jump around in later on.

The two girls had just sat down on the ground, as Wet Leg had left the stage. “What do you think he’ll wear?”.

Ava thought as she played with the boa around her neck. “If we see hitties, I’m gonna faint.”.

“Oh please, that would literally make my night if he does!”. Molly got herself excited at the thought.

The two friends, took some photos together, wanting to remember this night and of course to post on their social media’s to let everyone they knew that they had seen Harry Styles.

The sound of the stadium singing Angels by Robbie Williams filled their ears, but what caught their eyes was YN, stood to the side of them, recording as she sadly smiled.

“Fuck, is that YN?” Ava nudged her friend.

“It is, I think I’m going to have a panic attack!” Molly spoke as she repeated to herself how much she needed to remain calm.

“She looks sad.” Ava observed. “Do you think we should ask her if she’s alright?”.

Molly managed to calm her nerves and get the attention of YN, who smiled at the sound of the girls calling her name.

“Hi!” YN gave the girls a genuine smile as she walked over to where they were now stood.

Ava took the lead, not trusting Molly to hold it together. “We’re sorry to bother you, we just wanted to check you were alright?”.

“You looked a little sad.” Molly added.

YN placed her phone in her pocket. “Yeah I’m alright.” YN hesitated. “That song reminds me of me Mum and sister.”.

“Awww.” Molly felt herself get emotional. “C’mere, have a hug.”. She wrapped her arms around YN, who gladly took it.

“Thank you!” YN rubbed a stray tear away from her cheek.

Ava couldn’t help but notice the band that now laid on YN’s finger. Wanting to change the subject as she could see YN wiping away her tear. “Congratulations on your engagement!”.

“Oh my…yeah…congratulations…I literally fucking screamed when I saw your post last night!” Molly spoke, excitement evident in her voice.

YN laughed at the girls outburst. “Aww thank you!” Blush creeping up onto her check. “It still hasn’t sunk in.”.

"It's such a beautiful ring." Ava complimented, the gold band that sat upon YN's finger.

"The boy did good!' Ava nudged Molly for her comment, but YN let out a loud chuckle, finding the comment funny.

YN nodded in agreement. "He did...I'm very lucky.".

The sound of Bohemian Rhapsody beginning, got the crowd excited knowing that Harry would be on stage soon. Ava and Molly joined in with the singing stadium.

Mama, life had just begun But now I've gone and thrown it all away Mama, ooh, didn't mean to make you cry If I'm not back again this time tomorrow Carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters

The two friends, expected YN to have disappeared now that Harry was due to come on stage any moment. But they were pleasantly surprised to see YN still stood to the side of them but this time with Brad by her side.

As the intro video played, Ava and Molly were on edge waiting for the first glance of Harry. As Daydreaming began, and Harry appeared wearing his signature overalls but for the last night at Wembley decided to be shirtless, showing off his butterfly tattoo. Ava and Molly held onto each other as they jumped up and down at the sight of Harry and his lack of t-shirt.

But what set the two girls and the other fans around them into laughter was when YN could be heard shouting. "THE HITTIES ARE OUT! WOOOOO!".

Livin' in a daydream She said, "Love me like you paid me" You know I'll be gone for so long So give me all of your love, give me something to dream about

Ooh-ooh

Stay until the morning 'Cause, baby, loving you's the real thing It just feels right When you give me all of your love, give me something to dream about So give me all of your love, give me something to dream about

Ava and Molly were jumping around, just like the other fans in the stadium. Dancing, singing and having a blast..completely in awe of the man on the stage. YN and Brad were still near by also enjoying themselves, singing and dancing along.

The sound of Golden began and Harry was instructed the fans to get low. "Are you ready to have some fun with us tonight, Wembley?".

Molly turned to Ava, completely forgetting who was standing behind them. "I think I'm in love!". The girl shouted, as she was still in denial that they were watching Harry Styles perform.

Bringing the girls back into reality was YN's accent from behind them. "He has that affect on you!". Most girlfriends, in YN's case fiancée, wouldn't have liked that comment being said. But YN understood, she really did because Harry did have that affect on others. He was infectious!

As Adore You came to an end, Harry made his way down the platform to wave to the fans who stood towards the back of the stadium. Ava, Molly and the fans near by were quick to cheer and wave to the man himself.

After Harry's little speech thanking the opening acts and explaining how he had burnt his tongue on some soup, he sang Keep Driving. It was no secret that fans loved singing along to a particular part so Molly and Ava were preparing themselves to belt out the famous line.

Passports in footwells Kiss her and don't tells Wine glass, puff pass, tea with cyborgs Riot America, science and edibles Life hacks going viral in the bathroom

But making Brad, the girls and fans around them explode with laughter was YN's version as she sang behind them. "Cocaine, side boob, choke ME with a sea view!".

Toothache, bad move Just act normal Moka pot Monday, it's all good Hey, you Should we just keep driving?

One Direction fans loved Stockholm Syndrome so it was no surprise the stadium went crazy as they showed their love for the song written and performed by their favourite band. YN also joining in with the fans around her.

The sound of Sweet Creature beginning to play, caused the stadium to become a calm atmosphere, almost like everyone was enjoying the moment as Harry hadn’t sung it live for a few years. YN could see the two friends, holding onto each other whilst listening to Harry sing, wanting to capture the moment she snapped a quick photo from behind the two girls and took a short video as they had their arms wrapped around eachothers shoulders. Hoping she could try and send it to them later.

Still standing at the front of the stage, Harry peered out at the crowd looking from one side to the other. “Uh speaking of Sweet Creature…I wanna say before we go any further a massive massive thank you to you and the people of London for all the support you have given me over the last thirteen or so years of my life. This... city has blessed me with a home, and certainly the most important people in my life who have supported me over the years and I would not be here without them, thank you so much, and to all who have made it tonight. The first time I ever came to London was thirteen years ago, it was just across the street, for the boot-camp stages of X-Factor I’d never been here before, it was quite scary coming to London; but making that journey meant I got to meet my special person…the better half of me and Wembley will always be our special place for us so I’d like to play a song for her tonight, this is for you YN…this is Love Of My Life”.

During Satellite a large group of fans created a circle and YN couldn’t help but join in. They waited for Harry to sing “Spinning out, waiting for ya to pull me in” before they all ran into the circle and then dance around in crowd.

YN loved the TPWK dance that the fans had created and she spent hours learning the steps when it first went viral. So when Harry began to sing the lyrics, she couldn’t help but fill with excitement of joining the fans around her. “Maybe we can…find a place to feel good…and we can treat people with kindness…find a place to feel good”.

Whenever Harry surprised the fans by singing Medicine, her heart filled with joy over the fans screaming with happiness as the music to the saucy song began. She would admit though that Harry singing the unrealised song and moving his hips in certain ways made her feel a certain way too, one that would have to wait for the end of the show and they were alone in their hotel room. “You got that something, I got me an appetite, now I can taste it…we're getting dizzy, oh, we're getting dizzy, oh…la-la-da-da, da”.

Knowing the set list by heart now, YN knew it was her queue to leave when Harry finished singing As It Was. Wanting to thank the two girls for being so kind and friendly, she quickly gave them a cuddle and promised to follow them back on instagram later on.

Molly and Ava watched as YN left the pit and quickly made her way backstage to meet the main man himself. “I can’t believe that just happened”.

Ava felt like she was in a dream and she was going to be woken up to reality any minute. “Pinch me…but did we just spend the entire concert with YN Tomlinson?!”.

“She worked her way through a cheap pack of cigarettes”.

---

molly_x

liked by avaflorence, yntomlinson on and 463 others

molly_x Ava and I’s reaction after watching Harry Styles with YN!!✨❤️🫶🏼 🪩 View all 46 comments tagged: avaflorence harrystyles yntomlinson

avaflorence Amazing night✌🏼I want to do it again! YN made our night so much better x ⌞molly_x She’s such a beautiful soul🩷

friend2 So lucky 😩

yntomlinson Thank you girlies for letting me join you at the show🫶🏼I had the best night and have told Harry about two of his biggest fans!❤️ ⌞harryfan6 your so lucky yn commented and liked your post!! ⌞molly_x Sorry I just needed to calm myself because I can’t believe you’ve actually commented and liked my photo (fangirl moment 😱). Thank you for being so lovely to us…and taking that photo and video of us, we are so grateful!❤️❤️❤️

harryfan9 Is YN starting a new trend of being in the pit with the fans????

harryfan7 Things like this never happen at my shows😢😢😢

Tag List:

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats@harrysbbyh0ney @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r  @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @or-was-it-just-a-dream @hittiesontour@bunnyharold @fanfictioncafe @lilfreakjez @iamahallucinationnn @theekyliepage @indierockgirrl@buckybarnessimpp @ashleighsss @jerseygirlinca @fake-coolbeans @itsmytimetoodream@treehouse-mouse @mrs-anna-styles211994 @macy-tpwk

[thecoolnauta]

GENSHIN WITH A TEEN!CREATOR WHO IS LIKE LUZ NOCEDA PART TWO

okay so this is part two and i'm just so dizzy but i'v been ALL THE MAMAHUEVO day thinking about this so yeah

TW: gn reader, teenager reader (ALL IS PLATONIC), some mentions of bullying but not that many, maybe sm angstand a lot of spoilers abut the archons missions, reader calling themselfs "bad boy" but meh

part one :)

So you were running for your life

No, seriously you're running for your life, don't laugh about it again

Some random people with a very ugly green uniform were hunting you like you were some type of a witch of the 1600's because you tried to ask them for directions

People of the town being so mean to you sounds like a frocking fanfic trope

Your weak nerd legs wouldn't handle it anymore, but you still running like they have told you there is a special product of your hyperfixation on sale.

AND! you have an egg

A magic egg, with... shinny shell

Running, running, running, blahblahblah, you almost pass out when you lost them closer to a beach

Pretty view, huh?

You heard their steps and hide behind a big stone, your legs and lap now wet by the crystal water

They left and you stop holding the staff like your life dependet of it.

Oh! that's your reflection, you haven't seen your face in hours

...

THAT'S NOT YOUR FACE

The horns and the black eyes felt like some very creep vision of yourself, but you couldn't get that first impresion of you out of your head.

You looked like something, not like someone

Even though your face looks "correct" now, the feeling of the itchy skin and the fragile organs aren't something you would forget any time soon.

"Well, let's not think about that, this bad boy needs to find any social community or will cry" you jump of the stone and continue walking wherever the wind guides you

Actaully, why does the wind feels like guiding you?

pointpointpoint

WHATEVER PROBABLY YOUR SKIN FELLING TO MUCH LIKE ALWAYS :D

(Venti actually let out a big sigh lol)

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY ARE GONE, JEAN?!"

"Why do I feel a deja vu about all this?"

And there they were, the most influent persons of all Mondstadt discussin about this very serious problem to solve... and a bard (who is actually their god but shhh).

"But, what do we do now? We don't have any idea of-" the bard was interrupted by the youngest girl.

"Master Jean, we must ask to the Traveler for more information, that letter is the only thing we have? Amber asked, her frown hidding her tears.

"Sadly yes, Amber. This is the only thing we have to prepare ourself in any case" Jean said, her untied blond hair flying around.

"What do you mean with 'prepare ourself', Jean?" Diluc asked, his leg shacking with anxiety.

"Well" the witch started, avoiding eye contact.

"Aether said... that probably his Guide... the new found god that had been helping us is now..." Kaeya said, walking around the room. Everyone felt his nerves, because they were just as nervous as him. "It's now corporeal"

"What"

"Corporeal, we can touch them, they are now... With us."

Silence filled the room, holding breaths and silent screams are all the winds can reach.

"Master Jean!" Noelle enter to the room, feeling the heavy vibes of the place, still stay with a anxious face.

"What's wrong, Noelle?" she replaid.

"Umh well..." She took a deep breath, letting it all out in a shout with a bow.

"There's a prisioner teenager who scaped from the bouild with rare magic, they don't have any visions and they act like they were from another world, like Traveler!" a quiet and long time pass, slow and slow and- "Okay I'm going, anything you need just say my name."

She leave, then, a loud shout singing the same song was heard in any corner of Monds.

"THE CREATOR!"

I'M SO DIZZY THIS COULD BE A LOT BETTER BUT THAT'S IT BY NOW, TOMORROW I WILL PUBLIC THE PART 3, BYE :)

[rizlowwritessortof]

Remember Me - Part 5

Michaela’s mundane life takes a strange turn when she has a random encounter with a very attractive stranger in her local bar. It must be déjà vu – or maybe it isn’t.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OC Michaela

Word Count: 4438

Warnings: There be smut here 😉

Dividers by @talesmaniac89

“Yes, Dean, I’ll pick up the pizza before I head out. Okay, and some licorice, and yes, I’ve got the popcorn,” Mikey responded to Dean’s requests with amusement. “Anything else, sir?” She laughed at the raspberry she got in return. “Okay, I’m on my way. Better have some cold beer, mister.”

She had settled into a friendly give and take with the brothers, occasionally meeting for drinks in town, and this was their second movie night at the bunker. The awkward stress between her and Dean had given way to a playful friendship with an edge of sexual tension that neither of them would acknowledge, and Sam had become the friend and confidant that she had never had before – at least not that she could remember.

Sam met her at the door and relieved her of some of the things she was carrying before they headed down the stairs. “Where’s Dean?” she asked as they dropped everything on the table.

“Oh, he’s waiting for you with a surprise – follow me,” Sam grinned, leading the way down the hall towards the bedrooms. They stopped at the room next to Dean’s bedroom, and Sam swung the door inward, stepping back to let Mikey enter.

“Surprise!” Dean shouted, his arms flung wide and a bright smile on his face. Mikey’s eyes widened as she took in the former bedroom, which had been transformed into a living room of sorts. There was a medium-sized TV on a stand next to the door, chairs, end tables and footstools salvaged from other rooms in the bunker, and a huge overstuffed sofa in a hideous shade of green against the far wall. “No more sitting on somebody’s bed when we wanna watch a movie. What do you think?”

Mikey walked over and sat down, sinking into the soft cushions with a smile. “This is the ugliest couch I’ve ever seen – and I love it!”

Dean beamed back at her like he’d won the lottery. “Well, let’s get some food and beer and get this party started.”

A couple of hours later they had laughed their way through Tommy Boy, and Dean was trying to coax them into staying for Caddy Shack. “I don’t know, I should really go home,” Mikey answered, avoiding Dean’s persuasive smile.

“Come on, Mikey – no work tomorrow, you have all weekend to do whatever you need to do. Sam, tell her.”

“It’s true,” Sam grinned. “But I’m going to bed. You two have fun.”

“Sam, seriously? Traitor.” Mikey tossed a pillow at him as he left the room, his laugh trailing behind him.

“You can’t leave now, let me watch this classic all by myself.” Dean’s tempting little smirk and the playful gleam in his eyes were too much to resist, and Mikey settled back into the cushions, shaking her head with a helpless smile.

“Fine. You’re ridiculous, but fine. Bring it on.”

Sam glanced in on his way from the shower to his room, grinning to himself at the sound of Mikey’s laughter at Dean’s imitation of the gopher dance. He continued on his way, happy with his decision to leave the two of them alone. His brother’s resistance was breaking down, and maybe – eventually – he’d actually let her in.

Mikey woke the next morning snuggled into a soft blanket, still on the ugly green couch. It took her a minute to get her bearings, remembering vaguely how Dean had convinced her to stay. “It’s late. Just stay here tonight, you can go home tomorrow. I’ll make you breakfast…” he had teased in a sing-song tone, waiting until she had finally sighed and given in. She had already fallen asleep halfway through the movie anyway, so why not?

“With bacon?” she had asked, laughing softly at his victorious grin.

“Well, yeah. That goes without saying.”

“Okay. I’ll stay. Thanks.”

“I’ll grab you a blanket.” He had gone to his room and brought her back the fluffiest blanket he could find, and she had mumbled, “Good night, Dean,” as he had headed for the door. And she was sure she had heard him respond with a soft, “G’night, sweetheart” as he had left the room.

She swung her legs over to sit up just as Sam stuck his head in the door. ���Left you a spare toothbrush on the counter in the bathroom, if you want one,” he smiled, and she thanked him. “Just going for a run, see you later.”

Dean hummed to himself as he cooked, starting the bacon frying and then mixing pancake batter. He had talked Mikey into staying the night, but he was determinedly pushing away thoughts of how the night could have gone if he had just picked her up and carried her to his room the night before instead of tucking her in on the sofa.

By the time he had a short stack of pancakes done, Mikey walked into the room, sniffing the air appreciatively. “Smells great in here,” she commented, and Dean returned her smile with one of his own.

“Coffee’s ready, help yourself,” he responded. “How many pancakes?”

“A couple is fine – thank you. I can’t believe you really did this.”

“Hey, I always keep my promises.” He handed her a plate of pancakes with a large side of bacon, and then sat down at the table with his own plate. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

“I slept great, that couch is amazing,” she laughed.

They chatted while they ate, and then Dean got up, going to the stove to make up a plate for Sam. “I should probably get going,” Mikey said as she took her dishes to the sink. “Thank you, last night was really fun.”

She moved to Dean’s side, stretching up to place a kiss on his cheek at the same time he turned to look at her, and her lips landed squarely on his. They froze for a moment in surprise, but before she could pull back, his hand was on her shoulder holding her in place, his lips gently exploring hers. She leaned into him with a soft sigh, then jerked away as if she’d been burned at the sound of footsteps entering the room.

“Uh… sorry,” Sam mumbled, smothering the smile that still teased at the corners of his mouth. “Didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

“I was just – umm – heading out. Thanks for last night, I had a great time,” Mikey said in a rush and all but ran from the room.

They heard her footsteps on the stairs and then the door closing, and Sam turned back to look at his brother. “So…”

“It was an accident,” Dean snapped, shoving the plate of food across the table to Sam.

“You ‘accidentally’ kissed her?”

“Yes. Shut up. Just – eat your breakfast.” Dean turned and stalked out of the room, and Sam heard his bedroom door slam. He chuckled to himself, then dug into his stack of pancakes.

Dean paced for a minute, then sat down on the foot of the bed, closing his eyes. What the fuck was happening? He had been determined since the beginning of this whole erased-past fiasco that Mikey would continue her life free from the baggage that came from a relationship with a Winchester. And yet one touch from her and his resistance had disappeared. He had wanted so much more – to tease at the seam of her lips with his tongue until she opened to him, to pull her body close and feel her softness against him, to fit himself between her thighs and let her feel how much he wanted her. “Fuck,” he swore softly, standing to reach for his robe and head for the shower.

Mikey had raced out of there so fast that he had no idea of her reaction, other than being embarrassed by Sam’s interruption. Maybe he’d just text her later, find out if she was okay.

Mikey drove straight home, her mind racing. After all the talk of forgetting about their past, about moving on, the kiss had taken her completely off guard, and she was sure Dean was feeling the same way.

She went about her to-do list, performing her tasks mindlessly, unable to stop thinking about the way his lips had clung to hers, his hand keeping her near as if he had been afraid she’d pull away. If Sam hadn’t come in – her imagination ran wild with scenarios of Dean taking her right there on the counter top or carrying her off to his room, of her mouth on him as he desperately clutched at her hair, of him teasing her, driving her insane with his fingers or his mouth. She was a distracted mess all afternoon, finally going out to mow her lawn, working hard and fast to exhaust her body and relieve the tension.

She was sweaty and weary when she made her way back inside, hitting the shower and then dressing in her comfiest old shorts and tank top before collapsing on the sofa with a cold beer. She reached for the remote, turning on a random sitcom, leaning her head back against the cushions with a sigh. Her phone pinged, and she grabbed it to see a message from Dean. “Hey – are we okay?”

She stared at his words for several minutes, searching in vain for something witty and finally typing back, “Yeah – of course, we’re good.”

“Ok, good,” he responded. “Hey, we’re heading out on a hunt in the morning – so we’ll see you when we get back.”

“Be safe,” she answered, and blew out a relieved breath. At least he hadn’t reverted back to avoiding contact with her, so that was progress. Maybe, someday – she closed her eyes and laid her head back again.

Dean pulled up in front of Harley’s Bar a couple of weeks later, finally back in Kansas after the longer-than-expected hunting trip, and Sam shot him a curious look. “We’re not calling Mikey?”

“Yeah, I figured we’d just call her from here,” Dean answered, exiting the Impala and pulling his phone from his pocket. He called her number as they walked in and grabbed a table, looking up startled as he heard her voice nearby as she answered. She was behind the bar, and her face lit up with a bright smile as she spotted them, heading for their table.

“Home safe and in one piece, that’s what I like to see,” she greeted them. “What can I get you?”

“What – why are you working here?” Dean asked, confused.

“Oh, I’m just helping Harley out – his waitress quit. Ran off with her best friend’s husband, actually, so she won’t be coming back. Kind of left him in a bind, so I offered to help out a couple of nights a week, at least until he finds somebody else.”

“Wow. Well, I guess you won’t be having a couple beers with us, then, huh?” Sam asked, and she smiled his direction.

“If it’s not busy, Harley won’t care. He’s a teddy bear. And he likes me.”

Dean laughed. “He might be a teddy bear if he likes you – he’s a grizzly if he doesn’t.” She grinned and nodded in agreement, glancing over at her ex-biker boss behind the bar. “Couple of beers, please - and come join us if you have time later.”

Mikey dropped off their beers and stopped to chat with them a couple of times, but the bar was moderately full since it was a Friday night, and she was kept pretty busy. Dean’s eyes followed her as she worked, watching the confident, graceful way she navigated between tables, and he smiled at the sound of her voice as she joked and laughed with the customers.

“Dude, you’re staring,” Sam jabbed at his brother, and Dean shot him a glare.

“Shut up,” he said between clenched teeth as Mikey approached their table with two beers.

“On me,” she smiled, “sorry I haven’t had time to hang out.”

“Not closing time yet,” Dean answered. “We’re not in any hurry.”

The guy from the next table gestured to her, and she shrugged. “No rest for the weary.” She headed to his table, took the man’s order and was turning towards the bar when he reached out and grabbed a handful of her ass.

Dean swore under his breath, but before he was halfway out of his chair, Mikey had the side of the jerk’s face smashed against the table top with one hand, his arm twisted painfully behind his back with the other. She spoke quietly, but there was steel in her tone.

“Okay, let’s get something straight. Drinks are on the menu. Food is on the menu. My ass? Not on the menu. Touch me like that again, and you’ll find your balls somewhere up between your ears. Are we clear?” He mumbled a reply as well as he could manage, and she released him, letting him sit back up. “Good boy. Enjoy your beer,” she quipped as she walked away.

“Badass,” Dean grinned, glancing over at Sam, who was doing the same, and he nodded in agreement. Mikey had just moved behind the bar when the drunk swiped his arm across his table, sweeping his beer to the floor where the bottle shattered.

“Fucking bitch,” he spat, starting to stand, but a loud crack resounded through the room, silencing the entire bar. The barrel-chested bartender stood there glowering with his fist clenched around the blackjack he had just slammed to the bar top.

“Get the fuck out of my bar,” he growled, and the asshole scrambled for the door. Harley turned to Mikey, putting a hand on her shoulder, speaking to her softly before she came back out from behind the bar and headed for Sam and Dean’s table.

Dean looked up at her, a concerned frown on his face, reaching for her hand. “You okay?”

She smiled a little shakily. “I’m fine. I – I have no idea how I did that, but I’m fine.”

He squeezed her hand before letting it go. “Well, you kicked ass. Guess a little hunter instinct survived your years in Ohio.” She blushed a little at the admiring gleam in his eyes.

“Harley said I should take the rest of the night off. I’m just gonna make the rounds one more time, then I think I’m heading home.”

Sam turned to Dean. “Why don’t you take me to the bunker quick, then come back and give Mikey a ride home.”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to do that – I’ll be okay.”

“I think you’d feel better if someone stayed with you for a while, right?” Sam asked softly, his eyes searching.

She gnawed at her lip a little, then nodded. “I don’t want to be a pain.” She glanced up at Dean, and he shook his head as they rose to their feet.

“You’re not. Just finish up and I’ll be right back.”

Dean pulled up in front of Harley’s after dropping Sam off, but before he could go in, Mikey came out, her jacket in her hand. She climbed into the passenger seat and smiled over at him. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Any time.”

They drove to her house in silence and Dean parked in the driveway, leaving them momentarily in the dark as he shut off the headlights. “I don’t have to come in if you don’t want me to,” he said. “I mean, if you’d rather…”

“Actually – can you stay for a while? I know it’s dumb, but I really don’t want to be alone right now.”

“It’s not dumb,” he said, lowering his head to look her in the eye. “Besides, you have frozen pizza, right? Kinda hungry.” She laughed softly, nodding, and they headed inside.

They went straight to the kitchen, and Mikey turned on the oven to heat before walking to the fridge. “Want another beer? I need one.”

“Sure, why not,” Dean agreed, and she handed him one, opening hers and leaning back against the counter. Dean parked himself against the kitchen island across from her, taking a long pull from his bottle and watching Mikey as she drank from hers. “So – supreme, pepperoni…?”

“I have both, whatever you want,” she smiled. They stood there silently for a few minutes, then Mikey spoke up softly. “So – about that kiss the other day…” Dean tensed a little, but she fixed her eyes on the floor and continued. “I didn’t mean… I mean, I know you really want to get past all this,” she waved her hand between them, “and I wasn’t trying to push.”

“I know. You weren’t the one who kept it going, that was on me. If Sam wouldn’t have walked in…” She looked up at him, waiting for him to finish, the vulnerability in her eyes more than he could take in, so he averted his eyes and went on. “I didn’t want to stop. I, uh…” he paused, his teeth gnawing at his lip. “I’ve still been dreaming about you – about us. And not memories or stuff from our past. I’ve been having dreams about us like we are now.” He hesitated for a moment, then set his beer down on the counter behind him and moved closer to her, looking directly into her eyes, his hands moving to rest at her waist as he bent to touch his forehead to hers. “I can’t get you out of my head,” he said, his voice soft and desperate, his breath warm on her lips.

She tilted her head up slightly, and his restraint dissolved as he captured her lips beneath his, her fists clenching handfuls of his shirt as she pulled him closer. He stopped for a second, looking into her eyes again as she whispered, “Me, too,” and Dean groaned as he kissed her again, their hunger for each other finally set free.

He tightened his grip on her waist and lifted her to sit on the counter, and she opened her legs to bring him closer. He slanted his mouth over hers, and she moaned as he deepened their kiss, his hands drifting down to her hips to pull her in tight against him.

He finally lifted his head as they both panted for air, staring into her eyes as he began to work the buttons of her shirt free. When he pushed it from her shoulders, he finally let his gaze move down, and he swore under his breath before kissing her again. His lips left a trail of fire along her jaw line and down, nibbling just below her ear. “Bedroom?” he whispered, and she nodded, letting him step back and slipping down off the counter to her feet.

Dean reached over and shut off the oven before taking her hand, letting her lead him to her room. She turned on the little bedside lamp, washing the room in a soft glow before she let her shirt drop to the floor. “C’mere,” he rasped, taking her shoulders and turning her back to him as he undid the clasp of her bra. He slipped his fingers beneath the straps, sliding them down her arms until the garment joined her shirt on the floor.

He moved in close behind her, his hands gliding up over her ribs and cupping the underside of her breasts, his thumbs stroking over her nipples as she leaned back into his chest. “Dean,” she whined, her legs trembling, her head rolling back on his shoulder. “I gotcha,” he murmured in her ear, his hands moving to her waist, turning her to face him and pulling her with him towards the bed.

He sat down, pulling her down to perch on one thigh as he dipped his head down to tongue one hard nipple into the warmth of his mouth. A frantic little sound escaped Mikey’s lips as she jerked, the firm muscle of Dean’s thigh providing the friction her body so desperately craved. Dean moved to the other breast, sucking and nipping at her, driving her to wrap her arms around his neck and rut against him, whimpering against his shoulder as he shifted his hands to her hips to help. He bent his head to nibble at her earlobe, his voice low and seductive as he spoke. “Is that what you need, baby? Something hard and warm?” She whined, and he traced a tongue over the shell of her ear, “You get off like this, and you can have something hard and warm to fill you up inside, you want that? Because I do. I wanna be inside that sweet pussy so deep…” The rumble of his voice, the words he was breathing in her ear, the exquisite pressure from the seam of her jeans as she rode him set her off as she continued grinding into him with a loud cry of his name.

He shifted her away from his chest far enough to take her lips in a forceful kiss, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she rode out her orgasm, finally parting from him with a gasp of much-needed air and dropping her head to his shoulder again. She went limp as he wrapped his arms around her, whispering as his hands smoothed over the soft skin of her back. “That was so fucking hot.” After a moment or two, she sat up, her eyes glowing, shoving his button-down off his shoulders and reaching for the waist of his t-shirt. He laughed softly, mumbling, “Okay, okay,” as he shed himself of both, pulling her against him with a groan at the sensation of her breasts against his skin as he kissed her again.

She finally moved away with a push on his shoulders, rising to her feet and kicking off her shoes. “I believe I was promised something, and it ain’t happening with your pants on.” She smirked at him, and he stood up with a grin as they both rushed to remove the rest of their clothes. He scooped her up and tossed her onto the bed, and she giggled, shifting herself to the middle as he climbed up to join her, fitting himself between her thighs and bracing himself up on his hands. She sucked in a startled breath as his cock nudged up against her sensitive clit, his teeth dragging over his bottom lip as he watched her expression with hunger in his gaze.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?” he said softly before kissing her, sweet and seductive, gently lowering himself down. “So wet,” he moaned, thrusting against her several times before dipping down to catch at her entrance, and she wrapped her legs around his hips with a needy whimper. He pushed in slowly, drawing out every bit of pleasure from the sensation of pressing into her tight, trembling cunt, pulling back from their kiss to grit his teeth as he finally entered her completely. “Fuck, Mikey…”

“I don’t know how I could ever have forgotten this,” she said breathlessly.

“Me, either,” he panted, looking into her eyes. “You feel like fucking heaven.” He pulled back, watching her mouth drop open and her eyes drift shut as he pushed forward again, grinding a little as he bottomed out.

“Fuck, you did promise me deep,” she rasped out, hands reaching to grasp at his biceps.

“Always try to keep my promises,” he answered, pulling back and thrusting in faster, and her nails dented his skin as he reached the limit. “So hold on.”

He began to drive into her hard, ramping up speed until her head was rolling back into the pillow, her thighs gripping him tight as she met every bruising thrust. Their gasps and moans filled the room until Mikey threw her arms wide and arched her back, coming with a wordless, wavering shout as she clawed desperately at the sheets. Dean swore, fucking into her wildly, the spasms of her climax driving him on until he exploded, holding himself deep inside her, never wanting it to end.

Almost an hour later, Mikey stirred, her eyes fluttering open, a little disoriented at first. Dean hadn’t moved, his face still buried against her neck, and her lips curved in a gentle smile. She moved one hand up to softly scratch her nails through the short hair at his nape, her other hand gliding over the muscular expanse of his back. He let out a quiet little groan as he shifted, and Mikey shuddered as he pulled away and rolled to his back beside her.

“Hey,” he rasped, his voice gravelly with sleep. “Sorry, didn’t mean to fall asleep and crush you.”

“Not complaining,” she answered, accepting his wordless invitation into his arms. He pulled her close, dropping a kiss to the top of her head as she laid it on his chest, her arm clinging to his waist. “I’m really glad that you showed up in that bar in Ohio. At first I thought it was the worst thing that ever happened to me, but it turns out it was the best.”

Dean’s hand moved to her face, tilting it upward for a sweet, gentle kiss. “I doubt if getting mixed up with me is the best thing to ever happen to you – but going into that bar was one of the best decisions I ever made.” His fingers stroked over her cheek as he looked into her eyes. “I’m sorry for the shit you went through, and for keeping my distance for so long. I was just – I wanted you to be safe, to be free from the shit storm that being part of my life always seems to be.”

Mikey stretched up to kiss him, her lips clinging to his for a long moment. “I hate to break it to you, Dean Winchester, but I think being a part of your life is worth any shit storm that might happen. And since I’ve actually lived through one, I think I’m entitled to my opinion.”

Dean’s chest vibrated with a low chuckle. “You think so, huh?”

She traced a finger over his chest, smiling as his muscles clenched when she brushed over his nipple. “Well, I supposed you could try proving it to me a little more, if you insist.”

He grinned, making her gasp softly as he reached over to roll her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “You have anything in particular in mind?”

“I’ll let you use your imagination,” she teased.

“Oh, honey, I’ve got one hell of an imagination,” he growled, rolling her to her back and taking her lips in a searing kiss. “And I’ll give you all the proof you want.”

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[shadowglens]

like kerosene (on a flame of doubt)

fandom: read dead redemption 2 warnings: canon typical violence, blood and gore characters: alma mcarthy (oc), john marston, dutch van der linde, arthur morgan, assorted original side characters word count: 7,826 overview: alma mcarthy joins the van der linde gang, circa 1891 BEFORE READING: please open in a new tab as it's very long and tumblr formatting is terrible on dash 😭

1891, Wyoming

“I want those stalls all mucked out before lights out, you hear?”

Alma rolled her eyes so hard she thought they might disappear into her skull. “I ain’t your servant, Jeremiah. Do it yourself.”

“Listen, girl.” The slapping of his boots through mud bounced between the walls of the livery as he stormed towards her. “While you are under this roof, taking my gold and tending my horses, you will do what I goddamn fucking say.”

Evening was drawing near. Distantly, if she strained her ears over the sound of her associate’s - sorry, boss’ - incessant droning, Alma could hear a pair of coyotes calling to each other in the nearby hills. One of the horses in the stall closest to her stamped it’s foot with a huff, whether at the threat of wildlife or Jeremiah, Alma wasn’t sure. She absently reached to hush it as the man’s squelching boots finally brought him to stand before her. 

His cheeks were crimson, a vein popping on his forehead and disappearing all the way up into his receding hairline. The horse, a beautiful roan mare, was now at the front of her stall and huffed sharply enough that Jeremiah’s neckerchief fluttered. “Wasn’t I fucking clear, girl? Pick up the goddamn rake and get to work.”

Jeremiah Owens wasn’t a particularly kind man, in the grand scheme of the things. He only knew how to yell or curse, smelt not-so-faintly of manure, and Alma was fairly sure he had never bothered to remember her first name. Girl this, girl that. Still, she fought the urge to stamp her foot like a petulant foal. He had never laid a hand on her, for starters, and shouting aside, he had given her free use of the small loft space above his office. Right now, he was the only thing separating her from the warmth of this livery and the rain-soaked emptiness on the horizon outside. 

“I’ve gotta do up the papers for those mustangs,” she snapped, biting down the fire in her gut. “Mr Darlington was due to send one of his boys tomorrow mornin’ for them, or did you forget?”

That was the other reason she liked Jeremiah. When she’d turned up on his doorstep just under nine months ago, looking like a starving rat no less, he hadn’t just offered her a job - he’d brought her in on the less-than-reputable side of his operation. More than that, he’d let her help with it. Storing and feeding horses was one thing, but a horse fence was an entirely different beast. A lucrative one, too. She knew he had a few hundred gold stored somewhere in the basement of his house, she was sure of it. 

“I ain’t smooth-brained, girl.” Again, she rolled her eyes. Again, he glared. “The papers are already organised. Just muck the stalls out.” At that, he stormed back the way he’d come, no doubt to the comfort of his small house up the way. 

“O-kay boss,” she sing-songed, mostly to piss him off. 

To his credit, he didn’t bother turning back around. 

In truth, Alma didn’t mind the cleaning. It was mindless, sure, and it left her muscles aching every night in her sorry excuse for a bed, but at least it kept her busy. Didn’t give her too much time to think. If she had time to think, she started remembering, and that led nowhere good. 

She worked her way through the stalls as the daylight finally slipped away below the horizon. The roan mare was a legit purchase on Jeremiah’s part, currently the only one in the livery. A group of men had brought in a trio of mustangs a few days ago, beautiful beasts captured from somewhere over the mountain, and then there was the stallion. 

He was a huge Thoroughbred, proud, a striking blood bay colouring. Alma was sure he’d been nicked from one of the local ranches, but it wasn’t her or Jeremiah’s jobs to ask those kinds of questions. Either way, she’d be sad to see him go, even if he would fetch them a fortune. He was magnificent. 

Alma had reached his stall, and was about to sneak him a sugar cube, when something clattered to the ground at the opposite end of the stable.

The stallion jerked away from her hand, startled, as Alma too spun on the spot. 

Her hand went to her hip on instinct. Her revolver, as always, was holstered. Jeremiah had fought her on it for about a week before a wannabe gunslinger had held them both up over ten dollars. She’d been armed while working ever since.

The livery was deathly silent. 

Most of the lights were off by this time of night, only one illuminating her end of the stable and one in Jeremiah’s office. The office where the sound had, undoubtedly, come from. Alma crept in that direction, keeping her shoulder tight against the stall doors and the shadows they cast. There was only one place Jeremiah ever was at this hour, and it for sure wasn’t working. Lazy bastard.

A shape darted past the office window. 

Fury, at being robbed, at being stolen from, gripped Alma, and before she could think of any common sense she was sprinting for the door. 

The hinges were always loose and creaking, and even her slight frame sent the door slamming open as she barrelled into it. The shape turned out to be a person as the door also slammed into them, sending them careening into the far wall with a shout. Alma twisted, revolver drawn.

It was a man, scrambling to his feet while one hand gripped his nose. There was blood covering his chin and throat. She couldn’t see much of his face through his curtain of dark, greasy hair, but she could hear him cursing under his breath.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Alma snarled, gun aimed between his eyes where he was leaning back against the far wall. 

“You broke my fucking nose!”

She took a step towards him, gun still up. “You were trying to steal from us!”

He shifted, spat a glob of blood in her direction. He spoke like a street rat, kind of looked like one too, but his clothes were just a little too nice to be one of the petty thieves Alma was used to seeing around town. The leather of his boots, though now muddied, was clearly well looked after, and the holster for his own revolver looked well made. Maybe he was from a gang? Jeremiah had grumbled that there were a few that rode through every so often, but usually they brought good business to the livery.

“What do you want?” she snapped. Back in the stables, she could hear the mustangs cracking a fuss at all the commotion. 

He scoffed. “Your money. What, are you simple?”

“Fuck you!” Alma glanced quickly at his gun - still holstered. “Give me back anything you’ve taken. Now!”

Despite the gun pointed at his forehead, he had the audacity to laugh. “Or what? You probably don’t even know how to use that thing.”

Oh, this greasy fucker. 

The Alma from five years ago would’ve baulked at even holding a gun. Her Pa had taught her how, of course, but she’d been a proper little girl back then, with parents who loved her, and a warm home to run back to if things got too hard. 

Five years was a long time.

The man’s left arm, the one not gripping his broken nose where it was still streaming blood down his face, twitched closer to his holster.

No you don’t.

Alma shot him.

“Fuck!” he screamed as the shot rang out through the office and livery and the land surrounding it. The horses cried out, an owl scattering from the rafters and into the trees beyond at the sudden noise. His body slammed back against the wall, broken nose long forgotten as he clutched helplessly at his shoulder and the rough line the bullet had drawn through his skin. He was lucky she’d only grazed him and not put it between his eyes.

Alma stormed up to him, lunging, and before he could react she had his revolver in her free hand. “I said, give me back anything you’ve taken!”

She could hear Jeremiah shouting for her up at his house.

The man dropped to the ground, one shaking hand held palm-out as the other tried to stem the bleeding. Alma was close enough that she could see the sweat on his brow and the wide-eyed look on his face, like a startled filly. It was barely a flesh wound. He really hadn’t thought she’d shoot him.

Belatedly, she realised he was barely older than she was, maybe even the same age. More a boy than anything. Just like she was barely anything other than a girl.

“ - all of it!” he stammered. She hadn’t realised he’d been talking. “Get away from me, you psycho!”

He’d emptied the small satchel at his hip, sending an assortment of trash and stolen goods scattering to the floor. A few wads of cash, a stack of fraudulent papers that Alma had hand-written herself, a pack of cigarettes, a few twigs and rocks, a tin of gun oil that looked like it was nothing but dregs, and a little pocket knife. She took the cash and papers, thought for a moment, then pinched the cigarettes too even though she didn’t smoke.

She glared at him, raising both guns again. “I’m the psycho?”

“You shot me!”

“You deserved it,” she said, backing up to slam everything back onto the desk. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the drawers all sitting wide open. Subtle. “Now get -” she started, breath caught at the adrenaline coursing through her veins, “now get the hell out of here before I really shoot you!”

The man - the boy - just stared at her. His nose, thankfully, had stopped gushing blood all down his front, although now his arm was stained russet too. His shirt was well and truly ruined.

Alma marched over to the window he’d apparently crawled through and slammed her hand against the frame. “Are you deaf?! I said go!”

That seemed to shake him out of whatever daze he’d fallen into. She tracked his every movement across the office, guns still razed, and simply glared as he awkwardly tried to clamber back out the window with only one good arm. She slammed the butt of his own gun against his back as he went, sending him tumbling into the mud outside.

He cursed, stumbled and slipped, before righting himself and sprinting for the edge of the property. If she squinted, she could make out the shape of a horse hidden just beyond the treeline. 

“And don’t come back, you bastard!” she screamed after him. 

Jeremiah chose that moment to burst into the office, door slamming open the exact same way it had moments before. “Alma!”

She leant back against the wall beside the window, a gun still gripped in each hand, and raised an eyebrow at her boss. “So you do know my name.”

“What happened? Did I hear a gunshot?” He eyed the leather-wrapped revolver in her right hand. Alma almost laughed when she realised he was only in sleep pants. Maybe the old geezer did care after all. “Where did that come from?”

“A gift from a thief. Don’t worry, I chased him off cause, unlike you, I care about this business.” 

Jeremiah just gawked at her. “You shot him?”

“Would you rather I let him take all your cash and papers and everything not nailed down?”

“Well, no, but …” he only then spied the blood smeared on the wall and floor. “Hells, girl. How many times did you shoot him?”

Alma scoffed at him as she inspected her new revolver. “Just once, barely. I’m not a monster.”

...

One of Jeremiah’s cousins, Gregory, came by the next day to help shore things up in the wake of the attempted robbery. The man was Jeremiah’s opposite - tall, rotund, intimidating - which Alma supposed was a good thing. It’d hopefully scare any other would-be thieves off, at any rate. 

Not that they had to worry. The next few days were entirely uneventful. Mr Darlington sent a few boys down to pick up two of the mustangs, and paid triple what they were realistically worth without batting an eyelid. Jeremiah had made her hide the Thoroughbred out back before their arrival, just in case their suspicions rang true.

Alma had also convinced Jeremiah to let her man the fence after her little display the other night. That’s where she was that morning, perched on a stool behind the cut-out in the wall with her head propped up on one hand, when a man on a beautiful white stallion came trotting down the path. Even from a distance, she could tell she wouldn’t like him. The moustache alone put her off.

“Why, good morning to you miss!” he cawed. In the morning sunlight, the red of his waistcoat shone like rubies. “Fine day, isn’t it?”

Alma just stared at him. “I suppose.”

“Quite an establishment you’ve got here.” He hitched his horse by the post at the livery entrance, then waltzed over to where she was perched around the side. For a new customer, he sure knew his way around. 

“It ain’t mine, sir,” she said, fighting to smooth her brow against a brewing frown. “Can I help you?”

He was right before her now, smiling with too many teeth and his silly slicked-back hair. “Forgive my manners. Dutch van der Linde.” The hand he held out was tanned, roughened, yet adorned with rings of all metals that glinted as he moved. An unusual combination. When she simply looked from his hand to his face and back again, the man - Dutch, apparently - simply smiled and shifted to clutch at his gun belt with a hip cocked. “I was hoping to discuss a proposition with you, if you’d be amenable?”

Oh boy. “Unless it’s to sell that pretty horse of yours, sir, the answer’s no.”

“Now, now miss, don’t be so rash.” Alma felt herself tense, toes curling in her boots where they were hidden behind the counter. She could image Jeremiah in her ear, insisting that she be amenable to all customers lest she drive away business. She forced herself to breathe as Dutch kept yapping. “I’m here to propose an offer to you, specifically. You see, one of my boys said he ran into you a few days back, said you had a bit of a … disagreement?”

Any pretence of her being a good salesperson flew out the door at that. So the greasy fucker was back to haunt her then. She pulled her revolver from the holster at her hip before she could stop herself, jumping off her stool in the same moment. Trust her luck that the moment Gregory was nowhere to be seen was the moment she needed him. 

Dutch, to his credit, didn’t even flinch. Instead, he held up both hands in surrender. Still smiling. Still too many teeth. “Easy miss, I’m not here for what you think. Like I said, I have a proposition.”

Alma scoffed. Kept her revolver raised. “My mumma didn’t raise no fool.”

“I can see that. But I truly mean you no harm.” Dutch breathed out a laugh, or maybe it was a grimace? Alma could quite read the way his face twisted. “From the looks of John’s nose and shoulder, she apparently also raised quite a fighter.”

Was this the boy’s - John’s - father, then? Uncle? Alma supposed there was a bit of a resemblance with the dark hair, but it had been nighttime. Maybe she was misremembering. “Yeah well maybe you need to teach your boy some proper manners. Didn’t you hear it’s rude to accost a lady in the night?”

Dutch laughed properly then, glancing to his feet for a moment as if to collect himself before lifting his gaze back to Alma. His brown eyes assessed her. “Now, there is fire in you, miss. I knew I’d like you. ”

“The feeling’s not mutual.”

Another laugh shot from him, short like gunfire. “Hah! Now, where was I? Oh yes, I came to thank you for not killing John on sight, the boy was foolish to steal from such a … reputable establishment such as this one.” He waved his hands at the livery in question with an eyebrow raised. “I’d also like to offer you a job, of sorts.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m already gainfully employed, if you couldn’t tell.” Alma glanced behind her, hoping fruitlessly that one of her associates would actually be found in their place of work when she needed them. Alas, all that greeted her was the beautiful Thoroughbred with his ears perked in her direction. She kept her revolver gripped.

Dutch, apparently oblivious to her distraction, or perhaps not caring, soldiered on. “But does this place truly bring you satisfaction? Purpose? You’re clearly an intelligent young lady and have a mind for business and horses, and I just happen to find myself in need of someone with such talents.” He reached into a pocket of his coat, slowing as he saw her grip on her revolver tense, before producing a few pieces of paper. He gently placed them on the counter between them. Alma couldn’t help but gape a little when she recognised her own handiwork. “I’ve seen how you operate. Smart idea, faking the papers to get a higher price. I bet you’re making a killing out of the rich fools around here.” He paused again, for dramatic effect or to assess her reaction, Alma wasn’t sure. “Wouldn’t you rather put your skills to better use? Me and mine can offer you that and more.”

Alma fought the urge to ask where he’d got the papers from. “Let me guess? By ‘better use’, you mean scamming people for you, rather than this business? You must think me a proper idiot, just like that John of yours.”

It was an insult, and she’d meant it as one, but Dutch only kept smiling. Something in his eyes had sparked. “Think bigger! The government would see us civilised, chained up, would see our freedoms taken away. The rich folk around here no doubt deserve to lose some cash to you, sure, but a woman with your talents could be doing more than taking coin from a few oblivious ranchers. You and me and the others in my community? We can make a real difference.”

Surely he was a fool. The government? His community? Alma had seen how the law and the government treated people who didn’t fit in, people who lived outside the confines of society, and it weren’t pretty. As much as she hated the system sometimes, she had no desire to slide back into the fear she’d only just managed to crawl out of. 

Then again, what had her parents gained by being dutiful citizens? They’d been happy, for a time she supposed, but what were they now other than six feet under with no gravemarkers for Alma to visit? They’d done what they were told, had tried to live the great American dream, and it had torn them up and spat them back out like they were nothing. 

Worse than nothing. 

Still. Going in guns blazing surely wasn’t the solution either. No matter how many big, pretty words people like Dutch used to decorate it.

Gregory had apparently decided to finally do the job his cousin had asked him to, and Alma could hear him trudging through the stable in her general direction. She forcibly shook herself from her thoughts and perched back on her stool. “If it’s all the same to you, I’m mighty fine sticking to scamming the rich folk around here. Thanks, but no thanks.” She rested her revolver on the counter between them. “Now, if you don’t have a horse to trade, I think it’s time you left, sir.”

If Dutch was disappointed, he didn’t let it show. He simply smiled and held his hands in mock surrender, rings glinting again. “Well, if you change your mind, my associates and I will be in town for the next few days. We’ll be in the saloon, or nearby at the very least. You have a good day, Miss …?”

Alma bit the inside of her gum. Threw caution to the wind. “Alma McArthy.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss McArthy.” Dutch started walking backwards to his pretty horse with his pretty waistcoat and perfectly styled hair, and smiled. “Think about my offer?”

“Don’t count on it,” she called after him.

Gregory was beside her now, leaning over her shoulder to glare at Dutch’s receding form. His horse was small, fast no doubt, but he took his time trotting back up the path and over the rise. Alma kept her gun out until he was fully out of view.

“He give you any trouble?” Gregory grumbled, arms crossed. They were as thick as small trees.

Alma sighed, rubbing at her forehead. “Nah. Just … wanted to sell me something. I told him to sod off.”

“Hmm. Good.”

...

Alma was tossing and turning up in her loft above Jeremiah’s office, as she had been for the past few hours, when the gunfire started.

She tumbled from her cot, landing with a thud while her eyes adjusted to the near-pitch darkness. 

Another gunshot. Glass shattering. 

She fumbled across the small space for her gun belt, her revolver and the boy’s still tucked in their holsters. Lunged, then, for her coat where it hung on a hook haphazardly nailed into the far wall. The off-white of her sleep shirt near-glowed in the dark; even with her coat tugged on, her knees were still exposed. 

Another gunshot, another, another. Screaming. The horses were whinnying. 

A bullet shot through the wall of her loft, sending a spray of splinters towards her. Alma threw herself backwards on instinct, heart a drumbeat in her ear, and almost tripped over her boots where she’d left them scattered at the end of her shift. The whole livery was writhing as if in pain, had come alive with screams and gunfire. 

“Serves ya right!” someone - not Jeremiah or Gregory - was shouting over the cacophony. “Thieving scum!” 

It had been a relatively quiet few days, besides that boy trying to rob the place. Surely Dutch hadn’t returned? He had been a pompous ass with a stick a mile up his ass, but he hadn’t seemed to have any ill-feelings towards her or the stable. 

Alma went to make for the door, thought better of it, and tugged open the window instead. It was still at least a few hours before sunrise, the sky more stars than anything, and her eyes were still stuck with sleep. She couldn’t spy movement in the nearby treeline, but from this angle she could see figures darting about towards the front of the livery. 

“Come out here, you fucking coward!”

“Burn the place to the ground!”

“Flank them!”

It wasn’t too high of a drop, maybe a few metres. 

Another spray of bullets cut through the loft floor.

Alma jumped.

The grass and mud cushioned her fall enough that she didn’t snap both ankles on impact, and she never thought she’d be praising mud in her entire life. She made to run, slipped, fell flat on her front, and her sleepshirt was well and truly soiled now. Her mind unhelpfully supplied an image of the boy as he’d fled, bloodied and muddied as he’d been, as she now half was, and she cursed at herself. She could taste manure.

“Get the fuck outta my property!” That was Jeremiah. Alma raced to peer through a ground floor window, the glass shattered by bullets, and spied him crouched behind a stall with his rifle gripped in shaking hands. He was in the same state of undress as she was. “You good for nothing inbreds!” 

The remaining mustang was rushing its stall, as if in hopes of breaking free, and Alma could hear the roan mare crying out at the top of her lungs. Movement caught her eye towards the entrance, and she caught sight of the Thoroughbred’s tail disappearing out the stable doors with someone atop him. 

Her heart dropped into her stomach.

Alma left her window behind and crept further along the outside wall, until she could just make out one of the men that had been decorating the livery in bullet holes. He was tall, criss-crossed with scars and looked as if he too had slipped in the mud at some point. Even through the grime and the black dots of her panic-riddled vision, she would recognise the family crest stitched into his coat collar anywhere.

The Darlington’s.

Well, shit.

The quickly-receding outline of the Thoroughbred disappeared over the rise. Alma wanted to punch something, shoot something, wanted to set the whole damned lot of them on fire. It was their own faults for being so complacent in guarding their property. Now, not only had a couple of hundred dollars worth of gold just run out of the livery, but it had left a trail of bullet holes in its wake. 

“ - pay for this!” The Darlington’s, those who weren’t in the process of also stealing the remaining horses, were still exchanging gunfire with Jeremiah. The mustang was giving them more trouble than it was worth, but a duo of fools were trying helplessly to muster it into submission while also avoiding getting a bullet between the eyes. 

“Darlington’s just lucky his whole goddamned stable isn’t here!” Jeremiah shouted. “Ain’t my fault he can’t keep his own things nailed down.”

“Speak for yourself, asshole!”

The roan mare was halfway out the door now, a rider grasping for her mane as they hoisted themself atop her. The swarm of gunmen was actually less than Alma had initially thought. She pulled her revolvers, crouched, aimed for the nearest idiot’s forehead.

Gregory was tackling the man into the muck before she could fire.

The two men went flying. Gregory was twice the man’s size, if not more, and easily had his opponent straddled with a fist flying towards their face before Alma could even blink. Once, twice, he slammed his fists down, spit and blood flying with every impact. Once, twice, she heard something crunch. 

Alma shifted her focus to one of the men trying to tame the mustang. Breathed. Fired. Unlike with the boy, she aimed properly this time, and the man crumpled satisfyingly as her bullet tore through his chest. The mustang reared back at the sudden freedom, sending the other man scattering away to avoid a hoof to the temple. 

Jeremiah seemed to be gaining ground too, his rifle picking off another Darlington. Alma should try to flank, get behind - 

Screaming.

Distantly, she recalled a gunshot. 

When she twisted, Gregory was looking right at her. He was still straddling the now-twitching corpse beneath him, his fists mangled messes, and his entire front was drenched in crimson. Not from his victim, though, she realised. Alma jerked forward on instinct, her body no longer her own, as she watched half his internal organs pour out of the newly-carved hole in his gut. She wasn’t sure if she was screaming. It didn’t matter. The thud of his body toppling to the mud forced her to her knees.

“You fucking bastards!”

Laughing. “Payback’s a bitch, Owens!”

“You fucking bastards!”

Hooves thundered past. The mustang, maybe. Alma forced herself to move, to throw herself behind the cover of a stall, as the gunfire kicked up again. Jeremiah was still cursing, still shouting, still firing.

She shouldn’t care so much. She’d known the man for barely a day. Her fury built, threatening to swallow her whole. He’d barely said two words to her. She wanted to kill something.

All at once, the sound came rushing back to Alma. The livery felt as though it was falling down around them. She spat out the taste of bile that had thundered up her throat, adjusted her grip on her revolvers, before standing and picking her next target. Most of the Darlington’s had fallen back to the stable entry, what with all the horses now having been properly stolen. There were still enough of them to be a threat though. Alma managed to clip one man’s shoulder, almost got another in the chest before he dived for cover, sent one falling back with a hole between the eyes.

Jeremiah cried out, deeper in the stable. Alma spun; despite the carnage, she could just make out his balding head through a hole that had been blasted through the stalls. A shadow was looming beside him. Seconds later, she could fully make out the man that had crept through the back door. 

The gunfire stopped as Jeremiah clearly struggled against his attacker. Alma, any hope of stealth long abandoned, sprinted for the pair. Gregory’s corpse. The rancher’s corpse. Her parents' corpses. Gregory’s corpse. The rancher’s -

She’d almost made it to them, had her revolvers raised, when someone slammed into her. 

Manure came rushing up to her, and for the second time that night she was rolling in it, hay and shit caught in her hair and coat. The bare skin of her legs tore against the debris of the livery floor. Her attacker, a wiry man with copper hair, immediately flipped her. She opened her mouth to scream, but the sound died before it could erupt from her throat as he slapped her hard enough that the stars were suddenly inside the stable.

“Now, now, who’s this, Owens?” the wiry bastard asked, smiling as he grappled with her flailing arms. Not again, not again. “She’s a little young for a whore, ain’t she?”

Jeremiah had slumped back against the stable wall, but the fury in his eyes could have burnt them all to the ground. “Get off her, you sick inbred!” 

Her wrists were now pinned above her head. Alma could feel the cool evening air on her legs as her sleep shirt rode up. Someone else had moved to grab her feet where she had been kicking them. Not again, not again.

The man that had attacked Jeremiah now leaned over her boss. He had a bloodied knife in one hand. “I was gonna put this little lady out of her misery, but I think I’ve changed my mind. After all, who’s gonna keep this place running, once all that blood catches up to you, huh old man?”

Alma screamed, writhing, and earned herself another slap. 

The man with the knife wandered over to Alma then. Dark hair swung in his face as he crouched beside her and held the butt of his knife to her temple. His breath smelt of tobacco when he said, “We’ll be seeing you mighty soon, little lady. In the meantime, lights out.”

Darkness.

...

By the time she woke the next morning, her head was pounding so hard she could barely see straight, the livery was burnt to its foundations, the horses were all long gone, and Jeremiah was a cooling corpse laid out beside her.

...

Everyone stared at Alma as she burst into the saloon.

The place was quiet, which she supposed was to be expected given it was barely midmorning. Too early for the nearby ranch hands, too late for the drunkards. A small gaggle of men were half-heartedly playing poker in the corner; the sight of her dripping blood and stinking of manure in the entry grinded their conversation to a halt. 

She wasn’t sure if she recognised anyone. She didn’t care. This town, and these wretched people, would soon be lost on the horizon behind her.

“Jesus,” the barkeep shouted at her across the room, “get lost, girl, before I throw you out myself.”

Alma ignored him.

She hadn’t bothered to change out of her soiled sleep shirt. Couldn’t, not with the livery burnt to the ground along with any of her belongings. They’d left Jeremiah’s house standing, for some reason, but the place was better left to be the mortuary it now was. The rifle slung over her shoulder was the only remnant of the place she’d had the heart to grab before making the long walk into town. Her hair was a matted mess down her back, and her knees were still lazily oozing blood where they’d been scraped raw on the stable floor. A drowned, beaten rat likely looked better.

Her heart was still pounding in her chest. Alma was sure her jaw might snap in two at any moment with how hard she had been clenching it since waking up a few hours ago.

It wasn’t the first time she’d been forced to flee after a massacre. Any respectable, well-mannered girl of society would scarcely be seen in public alone, or at least without a good reason, lest it bring scandal. For Alma, she felt almost called to it, like a compulsion she just couldn’t shake. Always catastrophe. Always running. Always one. One day she was sure she’d run out of horizon to swallow her up. Either that, or her own fury would do it for her.

“Did ya hear me, girl? I said get lost!”

She had the rifle pointed at his forehead before he could blink. “Shut up,” she snapped, even as the sound of guns suddenly being drawn ricocheted through the saloon, “before you make me lose my goddamn fucking temper.”

“Put the gun down!” one of the patrons yelled.

The barkeep raised his hands, leaving his dishcloth to fall forgotten to the floor. “Woah, easy there missy.”

Alma chewed on her gum to still her raging thoughts. “There’s a man in town, said he’d be nearby for the next few days. Dark hair, moustache, fancy clothes. Goes by Dutch. You know him?”

The other patrons were still shouting at her. The barkeep’s eyes kept dancing between her, the rifle, and undoubtedly the guns pointed at her own head. “I ain’t answering no questions with a gun between my -”

“Do you know him?” A piece of her spit landed on his cheek.

“Who’s asking?”

Alma risked glancing to her right, towards the back of the saloon, and there in all his pretend finery was Dutch Van der Linde. The pomade in his hair was still stiff as bricks, and his outfit remained largely unchanged from when she’d seen him a few days ago. His boots were muddied at the edges, but at a quick glance he didn’t seem any worse for wear. Definitely not like he’d been involved in a major shoot-out or arson attack. 

Dutch’s gaze was cold where it landed on her. One of his hands was gripping his gun belt casually, although she didn’t doubt he was quick on the draw. It took him a moment, his eyes bouncing around her face, before they sparked in recognition. “Miss McArthy, is that you? By God you look miserable.”

“It’s been a long day.” Alma glared back at the barkeep, her nose scrunched, before begrudgingly lowering the rifle. “I’d say thanks for the assist, but I figure you probably deserved the bullet.”

The barkeep, for his part, seemed less phased without a gun in his face. “I weren’t lying, girl. Get the fuck out of my establishment. You ain’t welcome here no more.”

“Or what?” she spat, Dutch forgotten for the moment. “You’ll call the sheriff down on me? That good-for-nothing asshole couldn’t even jerk himself off if he tried .”

Someone coughed out a laugh by the stairs.

“Now, now, what Miss McArthy means to say,” Dutch said from where he’d suddenly walked up beside her, “is thank you for your incredible hospitality. We were just going, weren’t we my dear?”

“Don’t put -”

Dutch gripped her forearm. “Weren’t we?”

There were too many guns surrounding her, and she wasn’t a total fool. She’d have to find someone else to beat her anger onto. Maybe Dutch and his perfect little waistcoat would do. The look he was sending her made her insides boil enough as it was, but she eventually relented and let him drag her towards the back door.

They passed the stairs and another soft laugh escaped one of the two figures leaning there. Dutch wasn’t even looking at her as he led them outside, but called over his shoulder, “Come along, boys.”

“Real charmer you’ve got there, Dutch. I’m surprised you two didn’t get along better, Marston.”

“Oh fuck you.”

Alma waited until they were outside proper before wrenching her arm free. She still had the rifle gripped in one hand, and spun with it loosely gripped to glare at the trio. Dutch had stopped to assess her with his arms crossed, hip cocked as usual, and despite the commotion inside there was the ghost of a smile on his face. The young man beside him was as tall and broad as an oak tree, with hair like dirtied sand and a healthy spray of stubble across his jaw. He was in the process of jabbing a younger man beside him, who was all wiry limbs, dark hair and - 

“You?!” Alma shouted, stomping a step forward. 

The boy - John, if she remembered Dutch correctly - flinched back on instinct, which just seemed to make the tall man laugh. 

“Stay the hell away from me!” John shouted in the same moment that the tall man laughed, “Watch out, Marston, or she’ll skin ya alive.”

“There will be no skinning,” Dutch said with a sigh as he stepped between them all, and Alma wondered again if he was the boys’ father. “Miss McArthy, this is Arthur Morgan.” He indicated the tall man, who was still laughing under his breath. “And we all know you’re well acquainted with young John Marston.”

She just glared at them. John glared right back. Alma didn’t miss the way he rubbed absently at his shoulder.

Dutch apparently took that as an invitation to continue. “Introductions aside, I must ask, Miss McArthy, what brought you to be in such a state of disarray? I’m understandably thrilled that you’ve come to discuss what I offered but, I’ll admit I wasn’t convinced I’d ever see you again.”

There wasn’t any pretty way to describe a slaughter, she knew that from experience. Judging from the copious weapons strapped to the three men before her, she figured they weren’t squeamish. Still, she’d rather not think about it. “People change. It’s human nature, in case you weren't aware.”

He laughed. “That fire’ll sooner get you into trouble you can’t fight your way out of, miss.” He took a step towards her, hands in his pockets. “The truth?”

She glanced at John and Arthur, but they were both leaning against the back of the saloon, spectating. Fabulous. 

“You said you and your ‘community’ were out to make a difference. That you help people, take from the rich, that kinda thing.” She swallowed the bile and fire in her throat. “Turns out those oblivious ranchers you were talkin’ about weren’t so oblivious after all.”

Dutch, for his part, did look genuinely struck as the truth settled in his mind. “The stables?”

She shrugged, indicating her ruined form. “What’s left of it is standing right here.”

“I am sorry, miss. Truly.”

Alma scoffed. Began to pace, rifle still white-knuckled in front of her. “I ain’t here for your sympathy. I came for your help.”

“Dutch is many things, Miss McArthy, but he ain’t a god.” Arthur leaned forward as he spoke, his face half obscured by his hat. “Can’t turn back time, I’m afraid.”

She fought the urge to walk up and hit him. “You think I’m simple? I’m no fool.” He held up his hands in mock surrender as John snickered beside him. She turned her gaze back to Dutch, who hadn’t entirely dismissed her. “I know who did it. I know where they live. You help me settle this debt, I can make it worth your while.” 

“As sorry as I am to see you in such a state, Miss McArthy, my people and I don’t operate on revenge.”

“Bullshit you don’t!” she snapped, stepping so close she could smell Dutch’s cologne. “You’re outlaws, aren’t you? A gang? Don’t think I don’t know exactly what you lot are. ‘Community’ my ass.”

Arthur took a tentative step away from the wall, the line of his shoulder suddenly sharp. Dutch simply held her gaze, and when he spoke his voice dripped of barely-contained venom. “You’re walking on mighty thin ice, miss. Best you don’t stomp too hard.”

“I ain’t judging you. We all do what we need to get by. Hell, I’m not saint.” Alma indicated her blood-stained clothes. “I know what you are though, what you do.” She jabbed a finger into his chest despite the way he towered over her. “You said you like sticking it to rich folk. Help me do that and I can guarantee you coin for your trouble.”

The little patch of grass behind the saloon was quiet for a long moment. John had started pacing a little, still scratching at his shoulder. Arthur was watching Alma’s hands where she was gripping the rifle.

She knew she had Dutch hook line and sinker when he tilted his head, all predator. “How much coin are we talking, exactly? And from who?”

“At least a few thousand, probably more.” Arthur whistled at that. “The Darlington’s own a big ranch west of town. Follows the river, has the big fuck off homestead planted in the middle. You’ve probably seen it. They took all our horses before sparking their matches, and I’m sure there’s a few more on the property worth pinching. Their Thoroughbred stallion alone would fetch you seven hundred.”

Dutch raised an eyebrow at her with a hand on his hip. “So you expect us to not only break into a heavily guarded ranch, but also walk out of there with multiple horses that we’d then need to resell? And the establishment where we’d do such a thing just got burnt to the ground.”

John was looking at her like she’d hit her head.

“You’re outlaws, aren’t you? Surely you do this sort of thing all the time?”

“Not exactly,” Arthur said, but he was scratching his chin in thought. “I know the place, Dutch. Hosea got talking to one of the ranch hands yesterday at the store. Could be worth our time.”

“Of course it’s worth your damned time!”

 “I’ll be the one who decides that, thank you miss.” Dutch planted a hand on her shoulder. “After we do this, and it pans out, what do you say about my offer? A young lady like you would be wasted on the streets in a backwater dump like this, and I’d hate to see you suffer.”

The man was as slimy as a snake and half as pretty, but Alma wouldn’t pretend that the offer wasn’t … tempting, especially given her current circumstances. Her mumma had always warned her away from trusting powerful men, especially those with only illusions of it, but what choice did she have? She’d been burned before, and she’d likely be burned again. If they didn’t do it, she’d surely just do it to herself.

His questionable company and fashion taste aside, Dutch didn’t seem entirely insane. Arrogant, prideful - sure. At least in that regard he was honest about his intentions. Jeremiah had been a weak man, at his core, and Dutch seemed as far from weak as you could physically get. Arthur, too. John … well he didn’t count.

Alma looked at Dutch and sighed. “So you’ll go to the ranch?”

“Let’s just say you’ve sold me on the idea,” he said with a smile, squeezing her shoulder where it was still gripped in his hand. “Besides, you were right. I do like knocking rich folk down a peg or three, especially when we profit from it. It’s good for my soul and pockets.”

A chill wind rushed between the buildings. Alma remembered her state of undress, and ached for warmth and a home that no longer existed. When she met Dutch’s eyes, she saw burning. 

“If it pans out. We could all be riddled with bullets in a few days.”

“That’s the spirit, Miss McArthy!” Dutch laughed, clapping her on the back. “Arthur, see about getting the young lady cleaned up and fed, won’t you? We’ll head back to camp and start talking out this plan.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” John shouted, eyes wide as saucers. “You’re letting this psycho stay, just like that?”

Alma spat back, all venom, “Says the greasy rat who smells like he crawled out of a gutter. What are you good for anyway, besides annoying everyone?”

Dutch just rolled his eyes and walked off, calling after John over his shoulder. Arthur met Alma’s eye with a smirk, before turning to ruffle John’s dark hair where he still stood, gawking. 

“Oh, little Johnny Marston here is good for lotsa things. Failures of plans, entertainment, target practice -”

“I hate you both,” John grumbled as he stormed off after Dutch, who had already disappeared around the corner. 

Alma couldn’t really find it in herself to laugh, not crusted with blood and manure as she was, but in another life she would have. As it stood, she just slung the rifle back over her shoulder and winced as the movement caught on her bruised side. The pain made her remember Jeremiah and Gregory, slaughtered and left to rot in the sun, and she had to swallow bile for the third time that morning.

If Arthur noticed, he thankfully didn’t say anything. “I think you and me are gonna get along just fine, Miss McArthy.”

In the almost-midday sun, the blue of his eyes glinted. “I wouldn’t be so sure, not with the company you keep.” He laughed under his breath. “And … just Alma is fine, if it’s all the same to you.”

He waved a hand in the general direction of the main street, and Alma down a nearby alley beside him. His shadow engulfed her. “‘Course. Let’s get you cleaned up and pretty before we all get shot by your ranchers tomorrow.”

“Don’t blame me for being realistic. And they ain’t my ranchers. I’d sooner see ‘em gutted like pigs for what they did.”

Arthur looked at her with a raised eyebrow, shaking his head, but kept pace with her as they headed towards the local hotel. “Miss Grimshaw is gonna love you.”

...

Two days later, Alma was fleeing the Darlington ranch with a few hundred dollars in her pockets and a freshly stolen mustang mare underneath her. A week later, she was halfway across the state with a gang of outlaws known as the Van der Linde gang. 

And that, as they say, is that.

...

TAGLIST:

@nokstella, @celticwoman, @florbelles, @zahra-hydris, @arborstone

@kibellah, @carrionsflower, @fenharel, @daerans, @fashionablyfyrdraaca

@loriane-elmuerto, @imogenkol, @knakrack, @roguecritter

[skzoologist]

Recording gone...right?

word count: ~1.2k

warnings: none

genre: flustering Bae, this is a new genre at this point

a/n: Any brainrot you have? Send them all. I need them, they are giving me that sweet, sweet serotonin. (This goes to everyone, because while I have my own ideas for stories, you guys always seem to think of something completely different and I love it.)

tag: @thightswideforhanin

Please let me know if I left a warning or anything out, I will add it in! Reblogs, likes and feedback are greatly appreciated!

!I don't condone anyone stealing my work and posting it anywhere without my permission, or feeding it to AI!

!This is just fiction, my interpretation of Stray Kids. By no means is this how they are and how they behave in real life!

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Their fans didn’t even know their beloved idols would have another album coming out soon, yet the members were already working hard on it. They were all very excited, even more than usual -and that was hard to achieve-, because they would be working with a famous japanese singer this time, LiSA. She was known for several things, some anime openings being on that extensive list and you could bet that some of the boys knew at least one or two of those songs by heart. They were too big of a weeb to not.

Amongst them the worst ones were Jisung and Bae, the two socially awkward anime fans. Just from the mere thought of meeting her had their palms turning clammy and their hearts speed up, but only after leaping into their throats. Thankfully or not, they wouldn’t be meeting with the famous singer for a while, needing to work on the songs on their own first.

“Can you believe it, Hyung? Not only did Chan hyung laugh at me when I accidentally messed something up while recording, but he shouted into the mic!”

It was Jisung complaining after his day of recording, his tired form draped over Bae’s. It wasn’t by the latter’s choice, since the young quokka attacked him and started acting like his personal blanket the moment their eyes met. Bae knew he had no choice but to accept his fate, the man too stubborn to leave him be.

“Aaaaaah, Baeeeee hyuuung, it was so horrible, I think I got permanent hearing damage.” - at this, Bae just looked at Jisung with a raised eyebrow.

“I know, I know, we’re loud, you say it all the time, but I’m serious this time! Gimme a kiss! I need someone to kiss it better!” - the younger asked shamelessly, doe eyes glistening as he was craning his head to look at Bae.

Now, Bae really loved his members, he truly did, and he would never hurt them purposefully, but the thought of just shoving Jisung down onto the floor from top of him did cross his head for a second. Maybe even two. But instead he just took a deep breath, slowly exhaling as he just got up from the couch -with the clingy squirrel in his hold, who just squeaked at this lightly- and pushed Jisung into Minho’s arms, who just arrived because he was visiting them for something.

He didn’t even wait and explain his actions -something that Minho and Jisung were both asking and whining for-, just straight up walked away and left to his room. Right until Chan got a hold of him, the kangaroo’s head peeking out through the small gap he opened his door to.

“Bae, can you please come in for a sec? I wanna discuss something about tomorrow’s recording.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice, his feet immediately turning and pivoting into Chan’s room, closing the door behind himself. He sat next to his hyung, who had his famous laptop in his lap, the screen illuminating both their faces in the darkness.

“I know you have excellent english, but I wanted to go over some lines before we record them tomorrow. Especially because some of them might be a bit too high for you at first.” - Chan explained, no ill intent in his voice.

Bae nodded as he listened to his leader talk, singing sometimes in a quiet voice, carving the melody and the words into his flesh. He knew Chan only wanted the best for him, so he wanted to do his best in return. They spent their time like that, not even noticing it was past midnight already, several hours passing by as they started discussing things in great detail. They went over the already recorded parts, thinking about how to tweak them slightly, how other parts needed to be recorded in the future.

Sometimes the aussie forgot that Bae wasn’t part of 3RACHA, since the younger always let him gush about music production, understanding and curiosity glistening in Bae’s eyes.

Soon they wrapped the impromptu meeting up, wishing the other goodnight, before inevitably meeting up the next day in the recording studio.

Bae arrived there early, wanting to warm up his voice in time before the recording. He greeted all the staff members, doing a double take when he saw not only Chan, but every member of 3RACHA in the chairs. Those sneaky bastards just grinned at him and waved, causing Bae to huff and start regretting his life choices. Because he knew there would be teasing to be had, even though they were also recording for STAY. Although that never stopped them before, so why would it now?

After successfully warming up his voice and tweaking with the settings a bit, Bae was ready and signalled for the others.

Chan only commented a few times, needing a bit of correction here and there: sometimes for the rhythm, sometimes for the feel of a few lines. They were usually solved in the next take, making everything go smoothly.

Right until the boys started playing around.

You see, Bae had this habit of doing tiny dance moves while singing, the choreography singed into his body for the song already. And every single time, Chan and/or the others would comment on it, purposefully pressing the button so Bae would hear it. Giggles and comments about how cute he was would fill his ears, dusting his cheeks pink, causing the others to react stronger. It was a hellish cycle, one that continued usually only until Bae would take off the headphones and turn away from them, staring up at the ceiling in silence. This way the others and himself would slowly calm down, otherwise he would have to record his lines while Changbin was shouting pickup lines at him.

He really wanted to get out of there.

“Okay, okay, that was good. Now you only need to sing the part everyone has, and you’re done. FIghting!” - Chan announced, urging Bae to look the lines over on the paper and nod.

It only took a single take, the others on the opposite side of the glass loudly voicing their opinions, as always.

“Wooow, that was perfect, Bae! You got the emotion down to a t.” - Chan said, his voice firm over the headphones.

“Of course, Hyung’s my boyfriend, he is perfect!” - Changbin added in, proudly standing there with a silly little smile on his face.

“What?! No, you greedy pig. You want Hyunjin and him both? He’s mine!” - Jisung whined back, causing Bae to huff and go over to calm them after waving tinily at the recording camera, seeing the staff members fighting a headache already.

It was always like that with Changbin, Bae getting a handful of headaches just from being in the studio with him, helping with the songs. The little dwaekki was always loud and voiced his opinions strongly, and Bae could only silently grimace as he went to go buy some apology drinks for the equally tired and suffering staff members. And for himself. Gods, did he not like coffee and its taste, but he downed a latte or two sometimes, just to get through those recording sessions.

“What’ll make you two stop?” - he tiredly asked, a sigh leaving his form once again.

“A kiss.” - they answered in perfect sync.

“Forget I asked. Good luck, Hyung.”

“What, wait, and where’s mine?”

But Bae was already out the door, done with the boys’ shenanigans for the day.

[steddio]

Most of the time, Eddie likes being in jazz band. He likes having at least one class he’s guaranteed to pass. He likes being around music geeks. Likes the smell of the band room and the routine of unpacking and re-packing instruments from cases. But for two days in February, jazz band partners with the show choir for their biggest and most successful (and most unfortunate) fundraiser of the year. Singing Valentines. Where any Hawkins High student can pay a dollar to publicly serenade (or humiliate, if you ask Eddie, but nobody ever does) the person of their choice. And Eddie does not like being in jazz band for that.

Mostly it’s the same story every year: boys’ last minute ploys to get into their girlfriends’ pants despite having failed to get a dinner reservation; girls and their genuine desire to do something sweet for a friend; and, Eddie’s least favorite category, jocks riling each other up.

Monday, February 13th, 1984. Day one of Eddie’s hopefully last year of singing valentines (although who is he kidding, Mrs. O’Donnell is never going to pass him), goes smoothly. He gets to skip his afternoon classes in favor of playing mind-numbingly boring pop songs on guitar to accompany some choir girl whose name he can’t remember. Nobody really pays him any mind, too busy jeering at the valentine victim, and he can let his mind wander to the absolutely sadistic campaign he’s planning for Hellfire. He almost, almost lets himself believe he can get through this stupid fundraiser without incident.

After school, Eddie is loading his guitar into his van, making a mental list of things he needs to pick up from the store before Wayne starts his night shift, when he hears someone shout “Hey freak!” from across the parking lot. He tenses, turns slowly, and sees Tommy H jogging up to him.

“Yo, where do I buy one of those singing things?”

Eddie’s brain takes a minute to realize he doesn’t need to make a run for it (yet), long enough that Tommy has repeated himself (and not nicely, either, why can’t it ever be nicely with these assholes).

“Hey, freak, are you deaf? What’s the deal with the singing?”

One of these days Eddie will tell his high school bullies to fuck right the hell off but today is not one of those days because as much as he hates singing valentines and Tommy (it’s actually too close to call which one he hates more), he does like to support the arts and help fundraise for band and all that shit. And he also really, really doesn’t want to get his ass beat. He digs around in his jacket pocket for one of the order forms and holds it out.

“Uh, just, uh, fill this out and then it’s a dollar.”

With surprisingly little fanfare other than shoving the paper and cash at him with way too much force, Tommy makes his generous contribution to the Hawkins High Jazz Band, and leaves Eddie to stare down at the name written on the order form.

Steve Harrington. To be serenaded in Mr. Sommers’s fourth period history.

“Jesus H Christ,” Eddie moans to himself. As if having a stupid crush on Hawkins’ golden boy wasn’t bad enough, now Eddie has to watch him look embarrassed and maybe blush and do that shoulder punching thing that jocks do to look macho that always makes Eddie think about a firm grasp on his own shoulder and, whoa, okay, not the time buddy. He takes a brief detour to the band room and adds Tommy’s order to their stack for tomorrow, drops off the money, and prays that maybe, just maybe, he’ll be able to get out of it.

Tuesday, February 14th, 1984. Eddie doesn’t get out of it. Instead he spends all morning dreading fourth period. So of course before he knows it he’s in Mr. Sommers’s class, trying to hide behind the tiny frame of a different random choir girl, and playing guitar for King Steve himself.

Steve is, as Eddie had imagined for way too long last night, blushing. A soft rosy flush creeping up his neck and warming his cheeks. Eddie is trying so hard not to stare at his lips, which are curved in a self-deprecating smile. Tommy is in the back row, beside himself with laughter, and Steve keeps briefly glaring over at him before turning back to listen to the performance politely, always the gentleman. Eddie tries to concentrate on playing chords, but he could probably do this song in his sleep, and the siren song of Steve’s hand running through his hair, and his goddamn freckles, is too strong and he can’t look away.

He swears there’s a brief moment when Steve catches him staring, their eyes meeting in an electric charge, before the song is over and the room is filled with jeers and halfhearted applause and Eddie can make his escape with the sinking certainty that he’s never, ever going to get over this crush now that he’s seen what Steve looks like overwhelmed and flushed.

Saturday, February 14th, 1987. Despite the fact that Eddie has spent most of his life criticizing Valentine’s Day for its heteronormativity and capitalist agenda, he’s still a romantic at heart. And this year he actually has someone to romance, someone who doesn’t treat him like a dirty little secret. Someone who he knows, from experience, will blush oh so prettily when given even the slightest show of affection. Which is how he finds himself once again serenading Steve Harrington, this time with a cheesy pop song carefully selected from Steve’s tape collection.

“Sometimes it’s like someone took a knife, baby, edgy and dull, and cut a six inch valley through the middle of my skull,” Eddie croons, relishing Steve’s heavy gaze on him, soaking in the affection.

“Only you, can cool my desire, oh I’m on fire,” he sings, and hates that Springsteen just fits so right. Because Steve’s face is flaming, and Eddie wants to soothe the burn (preferably with his tongue).

As the closing chords fade away, Eddie waits, loathe to break the silence that sits heavy between them. Steve opens his mouth, closes it, and Eddie is waiting for breathless praise, or something sappy, because goddamn it he deserves it after that.

“Ok, it’s a tie.” Steve is grinning, looking mischievous. Eddie’s confusion must be evident on his face because Steve clarifies: “It’s a tie between this and the first time you serenaded me.”

Eddie gapes at him. “You remember that?”

“How could I forget?” Steve is definitely messing with him, except, there’s something sincere in his eyes. “You had the cutest blush, I thought about it for weeks after.”

Eddie stammers, outraged and more than a little embarrassed. “I can’t believe it, I had the biggest crush on you, I was trying so hard not to stare! There’s no way you noticed!”

And Steve, altogether too earnest, sends Eddie spiraling. “How could I not notice you, Eds? You’re lovely. And not exactly subtle…”

Eddie barely remembers to move his guitar aside before he’s throwing himself toward Steve, murmuring “you’re lovely” and “sweetheart” and “my angel” between kisses. When they finally break apart, breathless, Eddie can’t help but tease, “You know, I’m not sure I’ve maximized my serenading potential. Maybe third time’s the charm…”

[ask-missparker]

The Chilling Adventures Of Super-Mamas 🧸

— Ruby Webb and Son 🕸️ Today

Summary: Meanwhile Mama is a work Momma has to take care of the kids, but work calls.

|🕸️🧸🔥|

Note: Silly sweet and a little goofy fic. A little bit of angst too, Mia might need a hug after this episode

Characters mentioned: Luna, Rick, Maria Hill, and etc

———————

Liane was picking up her phone and purse getting ready to rush out the door. Mia was sitting in the living room chair as Eli was playing with his toys on the floor as the TV played in the background.

“You sure you want me to go?” Liane asked reapplying her lipstick and rambling, “Cause I can always reschedule or cut my business day eariler. I know it won’t be profitable or professional for my clients but Luna said she was busy picking wedding flowers with Rochelle, so she might not have time to make to her appointment anyway and..”

“Honey, honey, honey!” Mia repeated sipping her orange juice as she looked up from her phone.

“What?”

“You’re starting to sound like me.

“Huh?…Oohhh! Yikes, yeah, nope! I should go soon then, shouldn’t I?”

“Yes you should, Luna and Ricky’s wedding is coming and Luna might keep making excuses to not come to your store, cause she doesn’t want to bother you, if you don’t show up.”

“Ughhh you’re so right! Oh my goodness yeah no, nope I gotta head out! Promise me you won’t sit all day and watch Bluey with Taylor!”

“Of course not…Now go!”

Liane kissed Eli’s face telling him to not let ice cream all day with his mother and was ushered out the door by Mia, before the blonde can return back inside. Mia closed the door behind her letting out a sigh and picked up the 6 year old boy sitting him on the couch with her. He giggled as his Momma handed him a piece of an old fashioned glazed donut.

“Yummy! Technically not ice cream.” Elliot says munching on the donuts, “Mama gone, can we watch Bluey now?”

“Oh yeah! Mama thinks Bluey is a little overrated but we love it. What if we watch Phineas and Ferb too?” Mia said as she suggested the other show with a grin.

“YES! Can we do the musical one?”

“You are definitely our kid.”

Half an hour later, the two sat on the couch watching Bluey and Phineas & Ferb episode as they enjoyed some snacks. The two were singing along to the entire episode of Phineas & Ferb, chuckling and making silly comments across the series. They even decided to watch Moana.

“I love this movie!” Mia chuckled taking a bite of her apple slices.

“Just don’t sing the boy parts, Mommy!” Elliot remarked.

“I can’t make promise i can’t ke—”

That was when her phone rang. It was Mr. Jameson! As Mia picked up the phone call, the phone practically shook with her boss’s booming voice.

“Where the heck are you, Parker?! You better not be lying around! I needed those photos 4 hours ago!” Jameson yelled over the phone.

“I um…well..heh, today is my day off, sir. I’m at home right now, tomorrow I go back to work.” Mia replied gently, very startled by her boss’s booming voice that almost broke her ear drums.

“UGHHH! I thought one of my employees said you were here today! They lied! Just then those damn pictures over the web or whatever you kids do in this modern day!”

As she heard JJJ ranting and babbling about god knows what, Mia text Maria Hill and her other phones if they can watch her son for a bit. Sadly some of them were busy and others were taking the day to relax. Maria Hill was spending the day with Natasha and their grandchildren. Then she glanced at her costume laying around in the other room and smirked exchanged a cheeky grin with Elliot. He grinned brightly.

“Gee sir!” Mia said loudly over the phone that was on speaker, “I don’t really know to use the web that well. Maybe just can just swing by real quick?”

Elliot chuckled, “HA HA!”

“Whatever Parker, just get here as soon as possible!” Jameson shouted then hung up.

~~~~

So Mia strapped on her Ruby Webb suit with a backpack and extra water bottles carrying Elliot as she swung across the city. The mother-son pair chatted and waved at citizens, even swinging by the windows of buildings as they crossed a park. Mia was so focused on making sure Elliot was strapped in her arms safely as she swung across the streets, she didn’t noticed Sandman until her son pointed out.

“Momma is that the Sandy guy?” He pointed out in awe with a little smile.

“Sandman?!” She exclaimed, under the domino mask and a hoodie of her suit.

“Can we play with him please?”

“I don’t know, baby..”

“Pleaseeee!”

“…uhhh okay, fine, maybe just real quick.”

Mia climbed down and landed in the park carrying Eliot. To her surprise Sandman was messing around with strangers, playing with kids and causing a huge mess per se. But he seemed harmless today, cause the kids and teenagers surrounding him weren’t upset despite the area being a little silly looking.

“Hey Sandy! Can you watch this little guy for me? It will be just a second, I’m gonna an errand right now!” Mia said cheerfully holding up her son who smiled brightly waving at William, “Thanks!”

“Uhm sure, Webby.” He said a little surprised at the unexpected moment with a half smile.

“Hehe thank you! He likes big slides.”

Elliot grinned, “Do a monster truck!”

He took Sandman’s hand running off to play with the other days, seeing his friends there too. Mia chuckled staying for a few seconds watching them, almost immediately losing track of time but then Mr. Jameson called her phone. She whined and rushed off to The Daily Bugle.

~~~

She snuck into a window, changing into a blazer that was in her office and sweating her hair into a ponytail before slipping out of the bathroom. Her co-worker Charlie Olsen, waved at her handing the girl extra papers to show their boss and apologize for her coming in today. Mia smiled and told him that it’s okay, it wasn’t his fault. Jake Kwan, Liane’s assistant, must’ve accidentally mistakenly sent a text message wrong to JJJ or something.

She grabbed the folder with the photos from her backpack as she rushed into Jameson’s office.

“Um, hi! Here are the pictures you wanted, sir.” Mia said entering the office holding the folder filled with of The Avengers fighting downtown last weekend.

Jameson stood up from his seat and exclaimed in his loud booming voice, “What took you so damn long?”

“I just got in like a few minutes ago from Manhattan..”

“So? You want me to be impressed by that, Parker?”

“Um, no-no sir. I had to drop my kid off with a babysitter, so it took me a few minutes to get here. You do have kids, don’t you sir?”

“Don’t sass me Parker!”

“I…I was—sorry. Would that be all, Jameson?”

“Yes Parker, that would be all. Next time i want photos of those vigilante and newcomers heroes that keep popping up, like those X-men! Young Avengers too! And other heroes at events!”

She handed him the pictures as he looked them over. He went on a discussion about other things as he did. Mia just nodded quietly listening to him talk and walked out, taking a breath wiping her eyes at Jameson’s rude tone and booming voice. Charlie asked if she was okay and needed a moment before heading back home. Mia nodded sitting at her desk and wiping her eyes grabbing a sip of water, something she understood what Liane and her friends said about Jameson’s attitude towards people can bruise people’s feelings.

But she liked her job, as she was able to take photographs and write articles. After a few moments she picked herself up from the chair and removed her remembering that she had her son to pick up, as she rushed out the building swinging onto the buildings as Ruby Webb. She can deal with her own problems later over dinner or whatever.

~~~

Elliot was sitting in a monster truck as Sandman made a bunch of sand based items for the kids. He was definitely Liane’s son asking for a specific thing, in this case sand toy looking truck.

“Uh, like this?” Sandman looked up at sandy monster truck.

“No!” Elliot sassed him with a big smile, “Make it more like a Hot Wheels toy! With big wheels and a cool door. And flames pictures on the door.”

“Uhhh..”

That’s when Mia swung in waving, “Hey there! I hope he wasn’t too much trouble for ya!”

She climbed over to the monster truck and picked him up, telling him it’s time to go.

Her son smiled, “He made a truck!”

“I can see that, baby! But he got a little lazy on the details huh?” She added.

~~~~

The rest of the day was spend going to the store for a quick shopping trip, buying McDonald’s and playing at the park together. Then Mia swung them home, texting Liane about the grocery she bought, as they unpacked the groceries together.

A couple of hours later, Liane walked in removing her jacket and heels calling out to the house that she’s back home. She smiled seeing the two of them back on the couch once again, right where she left them earlier that morning.

“Aside from the obvious grocery store trip, did you guys get off the couch today?” Liane asked joining them on the couch, guessing there must’ve been something else they did today.

“Only to use the bathroom and wash dirty laundry we had in the hamper.” Mia responded looking up from the iPad.

Of course Elliot answered with a smile, “That’s no true, Mama! We played at the park too and a lot of other stuff. We just sat down to watch Sleeping Beauty and Tangled.”

Liane grinned at the mention of her favorite movies, “Now that’s more like it! Make room for me.”

The three of them sat down cuddling on the couch to watch Sleeping Beauty tonight. Elliot cuddled on his Mama’s lap as Liane rested her head on Mia’s shoulder. She glanced at the brunette for a second, “You okay?”

“Yeah i’m fine..” She added softly, brushing it off.

“Mia.”

“What? I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. I don’t want to call Petra or anyone to know what happened. I’ll find out later after dinner right?”

“Um..yeah. Uh huh. I’ll tell you later.”

“Okay. Oh! Work was good, we got a pretty decent deal on new equipment and the dress we started for Luna is beautiful.”

The brunette smiled at the blonde’s expression and how she explained how her day went. Usually it was the brunette who was listening to her issues and coming up with a smooth form of comfort. The blonde knew something was up but she knew she will find out eventually, so it was better that she leave it alone until later.

Life for them was never always sunshine and rainbows, was it? But they try their best to handle it.

Now just enjoy the movie.

~~~

AHH THATS ALL FOLKS! THANK YOU FOR READING 📖

Please let me know what you think

Tags: @ask-starrk @missstrawbs2001 @purpleprincessonfyre @wizzzardofoz @thechoooooosenone @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh @marvelsfavoriteuncle @elzabeth-stark @sci-fi-lexcon @jackiequick @blueboirick @gcthvile @cherrysft @meiramel @trulysummersprivate and etc

[themultifandomgal]

From 2010- Birthday In Sydney

2012

Part 18

13th April 2012

“Happy birthday!” Emma shouts through the phone to me it’s 12:00am In London and 11am here in Sydney.

“Thank you Em” I say putting my hair up into a pony tail

“Have you had any presents yet?”

“I’ve got some presents dad brought with me but I haven’t opened them yet. I haven’t seen the boys yet. They did say they were going to take me out for lunch though”

“Have you spoken to Alex?”

“Yeah we ended the call just before you rang. Said he’s going to try and fly out when we’re in Canada” there’s a knock on my door. I pick up my phone and take it with me to my hotel room door

“Is that the boys?” Emma asks excitedly. I open it up

“Yes”

“Hi!!” Emma screams

“Hi Emma” Harry says smiling

“Ok I’ll let you go. Have a good day I’ll speak to you later”

“Speak to you later” I end the call and look at the boys in front of me

“Are you ready?”

“Let me grab my purse” I turn around to go and get my purse

“Ah ah ah lunch is on us, it’s your birthday after all” Niall says stopping me in my tracks

“You sure?”

“Of course we are. Now come on” Louis says taking my arm and pulling me out

“Hang on I need my key card” I laugh and shake my head. Quickly grabbing my purse anyway and my bag I head out of my room “so where are we going?”

“For lunch”

“Yeah but where?” I ask looking at Harry who’s not looking at me. We walk to the lift and get in

“You’ll find out” he replies.

We arrive at a place called Aria Restaurant Sydney. Looking at the menu I can tell it’s not going to be cheep

“Guys this is way to expensive”

“We can afford it” Niall replies

“No I know, but you really didn’t have to do this”

“Yes we did. It’s your 18th birthday and your stuck with us instead of your boyfriend, best friend and dad” Zayn says

“Oh speaking of” Harry hands me a gift bag “happy birthday YN. This is off all of us”

“You guys” I pout trying not to cry. I open up the bag and find a Louis Vuitton bag “I’m gonna cry thank you all so much”

“You’re welcome”

“Sydney how are we doing tonight?!” Louis yells into the microphone. The fans scream in response “today has been a special day for one person in particular” Louis walks over to me and places his arm around my shoulders “it’s the baby of the groups birthday. Today she’s finally 18. So you all know what that means, Niall bring out the shots”

“Oh god” I moan shaking my head as Niall brings over a tray of 6 shots

“Here ya go” Louis says taking a shot glass off the tray

“Thanks” I sarcastically say

“3, 2, 1” the boys all say and we all take the shots

“Ewww” i scrunch my face up

“We have one more surprise for you YN” Zayn says and out walks Alex holding a birthday cake

“Oh my god. How? I literally spoke to him this morning”

“We know” Harry smiles “now can you all help us sing happy birthday?” The fans all scream

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday to YN happy birthday to you” I blow out the candles and give Alex a quick peck on the lips.

Once the show is over we all decide to go out to celebrate, not for to long as we still have a show tomorrow.

[halfandhalfshoto]

enchanted | bokuaka

- pairing: band member!bokuto x manager!akaashi

- genre: angst

- warnings: none

- word count: 1,098 words

- inspired by taylor swift’s enchanted!

————————

There I was again tonight

Forcing laughter, faking smiles

Same old tired, lonely place

“Bokuto, you idiot! You aren’t gonna come to practice again?” Oikawa shouted across the classroom where a blank-faced, spaced out, tall male sat.

The said male looked at him with no emotions at all, but gave a hollowed out smile.

“Maybe tomorrow, I’ll go,” He replied, earning a sigh from the brown-haired boy who left saying “Daichi’s gonna be pissed with you again,”

Walls of insincerity, shifting eyes and vacancy

Vanished when I saw your face

All I can say is, it was enchanting to meet you

Bokuto entered the room with his stratocaster in the case he was carrying, only for it to be dropped when he saw an unfamiliar familiar person.

“Well, if it isn’t the VIP!” Daichi exclaimed sarcastically, pertaining to the guitarist who hasn’t come to practice for 2 whole weeks.

Bokuto didn’t mind it. He just stood there, staring at the black-haired male, talking to Kuroo, their bassist, about some gigs they’ve done. Not once did he utter a word during Daichi’s 5-minute lecture about band practices.

“—and I don’t think you’re even listening,” The drummer sighed as he raked his fingers through his hair. Oh boy, if only he knew how smitten Bokuto was. He gave out a “Whatever,” and called the person Kuroo was talking to.

“Akaashi Keiji, meet Bokuto Koutarou, our guitarist,”

Your eyes whispered, "Have we met?"

'Cross the room your silhouette

Starts to make its way to me

Cliché.

That was all Bokuto could think of when he realized how he felt towards the boy approaching him.

What kind of cliché romance story was this?

“You’re late, Mr. Bokuto. I’m your new manager,” Akaashi said with a straight face. Bokuto was dumbfounded at his words, before realizing it was a joke when Akaashi smiled a bit and held back a laugh.

“I’m kidding. It’s nice to meet you, but I hope you won’t be late again,” He told the still-quiet spiky-haired boy as he extended a hand.

Bokuto looked at it, held out his own hand, hesitated, drew it back, then held it out again.

“What kind of stupidity is this?” Oikawa muttered at the scene he was witnessing. Their guitarist was actually flustered. The guy who makes everyone swoon during their gigs!

“I won’t ever be late if you’re here, you can count on me!” Bokuto finally exclaimed confidently, winking. He picked up his guitar and urged everyone to start practicing, pronto!

This night is sparkling, don't you let it go

I'm, blushing all the way home

I'll spend forever wondering if you knew

I was enchanted to meet you

It had been 3 months.

“What a stellar performance! Their guitarist really made the crowd go crazy, huh?” The host said to his co-host after Bokuto’s band got off the stage. He really stole the show with that gesture.

“You think he’s gonna be mad?” He asked, looking at the 4 of his bandmates.

“Well, you’re gonna know,” Kita answered, staring in front of them as Akaashi marched forward.

“What was that?!” Their manager let the whole band go through except for Bokuto.

Seeing Akaashi’s flustered, all-red expression, he grinned.

While performing, he had shouted “Akaashi Keiji, will you be my boyfriend?” in the middle of Oikawa singing Enchanted by Taylor Swift

“You have an answer?” He shamelessly asked.

The lingering question kept me up

2 AM, who do you love?

I wonder 'til I'm wide awake

“Ugh, disgusting!” Kuroo exclaimed as he saw Bokuto and Akaashi entering the room, hands intertwined.

“Oh please! You’re just sulking because Kenma hasn’t replied to any of your texts,” Oikawa teased.

“Really? How are things going with Iwaizumi?”

“Alright, shut up!”

“Okay, time to practice! You have a gig tomorrow,” Akaashi broke the ensuing fight the two were about to have as he let go of Bokuto’s hand.

The spiky-haired boy crunched his eyebrows and gave death glares to Oikawa and Kuroo, blaming them for Akaashi letting go.

—

“Hey, Keiji, do you believe in love at first sight?” Bokuto asked as Akaashi snuggled closer, allowing his boyfriend’s sweet scent to fill his nostrils.

“Hm, I don’t know. Do you?” He answered, on the verge of falling asleep.

“Only when I first saw you,”

This is me praying that

This was the very first page

Not where the story line ends

My thoughts will echo your name, until I see you again

“For you,” Bokuto extended his hand out, revealing a bouquet of baby’s breath.

It was graduation day, 4 years of college finally over.

Akaashi smiled and took it, pulling the love of his life in as he slipped a ring on his finger.

“What’s this?” Bokuto asked after Akaashi let go, mesmerized at the ring suddenly on his hand.

“A promise ring, binding me to the future act of marrying you,” The black-haired boy answered as he cheekily grinned. Bokuto wasn’t the only one good at romantic gestures.

These are the words I held back, as I was leaving too soon

I was enchanted to meet you

“Kou… I got accepted to that job I applied for…”

“That’s great, baby!”

“But it’s in the US,”

Bokuto’s world had stopped.

“Take it,” He told Akaashi after a few minutes of silence.

“You know I ca-“

“Take it, it’s your dream, remember?” He took Akaashi’s hand into his, and gave those puppy eyes he knew his boyfriend couldn’t say no to.

Please don't be in love with someone else

Please don't have somebody waiting on you

“We have to break up, don’t we?” Akaashi tearfully asked, while looking at Bokuto who was helping him pack his things.

The other boy stopped what he was doing, and silence ensued them once again.

“I’ll wait for you,” He started.

“After all, I still have your ring,” He showed Akaashi his left hand, sporting the ring given during graduation.

Akaashi smiled, and kissed his lover as they started to pack his things.

Little did he know, Bokuto had rejected a job abroad before for him.

Please don't be in love with someone else

Please don't have somebody waiting on you

“Hey, Akaashi’s home,” Daichi told Bokuto over the phone.

His eyes were filled with ecstasy. It had been years since he last talked to Akaashi.

Looking at the ring still on his finger, Bokuto started to think of the first thing he would like to say.

“— Are you okay?” Daichi asked, still on the other line.

“Huh?”

“Akaashi’s home…”

“And he asked us to play at his wedding.”

———————

hello everyone! i’m back after 3 years ^^ here’s a bokuaka fic bc i love themmmm

[maryannecrimsworth]

Against All

Pairing: Hailey Upton x Single Father! Former FBI profiler! OC! Kristoff "Kris" Aller

Summary:

Nine corpses, nine burnt buildings, nine victims --- no connections.

The Intelligence unit of District 21st had been unable to find anything. All the clues were dead ends, all the people murdered were different - there was no pattern, no connection.

The only thing in common in all the cases: the modus operandi.

More murders were happening as the unit remained stagnant -- the cases were increasing, and they weren't getting any closer to having even one suspect.

Voight had no choice: he called the most efficient criminal profiler that he knew - who had also left the Bureau after a terrible event.

Kris Aller didn't want to go back, he didn't want to look a monster in the eye ever again, not after what had happened to his daughters.

But the sergeant needed him. This case - all the murders - were linked to the tragedy of his life. A tragedy that Hank couldn't avoid.

A tragedy that only Hailey Upton would understand --- and uncover.

Chapter One: Benjamin Cooper

— God, I hate this song — the teenager complained in a grunt. Even though she was sitting in the passenger seat, she could hear the younger girl singing from the back. — Can you tell her to shut up?

— No way. — The man driving replied quickly. — Amber's expressing herself, I can't tell her off for that.

— So tell her to express herself with another song! I swear to God if I hear — the girl on the back sang loudly: I was good she was hot — Argh! — The teen grunted. — I gave up. My ears will bleed forever.

— Blackhawks won yesterday, let her cheer. — He looked at the girl by his side, worry present in his semblance. — Is there something—

— Billy's here! — Amber shouted, making both the man and the teenager flinch. He stopped the car.— Papa, can I go? Please, I need to talk to him—

— At least she stopped singing.

— I heard that, Tess! — He stared hardly at the older girl before turning to the other. — Yes, you can, Amber, but behave in class, ok?

— Thank you! — She freed herself from the belt, kissed and hugged her father, and held the door of the car. — Bye, papa. Bye, Tessa. See ya later! — she dropped off and ran into the school. Her shirt of the Chicago Blackhawks got the attention of some girls around but she didn't mind.

They watched the little girl go as they waited inside the car in complete silence.

— Oh, no. — Tess suddenly spoke. — Mother Alert, we gotta go.

A woman appeared on the horizon: it was too late, she had reached the car and was already asking for the teen to lower the window.

— you're a terrible getaway pilot. — she mouthed to the man before rolling down the glass and allowing the woman to come even closer.

— Kris! How good to see you! — the woman screamed.

— Hello, Margaret. — only Tess could tell his smile was fake. — How are you?

— Oh, dear, I'm suffering because of you! — Tess widened and moved away from the window. Being between the two now should be her punishment for complaining. — My boys won't stop asking for your pretzels! My house is a mess.

— I'm sorry to hear that. You haven't tried the recipe yet? — Kris kept his hand on the wheels. He wanted to leave as much as Tess did.

— I have, but I don't have the magic hands you do, dear! Would you like to stop by tomorrow and teach the boys how to make it? I think it's the only way to calm them down.

— Oh, no, I wouldn't like to bother you. — One of Kris' hands fell to the gearbox. — I'll bring some more to their training, don't worry. — the car started to move. — Sorry, I gotta go. See ya!

The woman was left behind in sidewalk as both Kris and Tess started to breathe easily again.

— Was she smelling? — Tess asked.

— Don't be mean. It was just some cologne...I guess.

— It's paradoxal, you know. The mothers love a single dad but are crazy to make you no longer single.

— This is the conversation you want to have right now?

Tess' smile faded away. Kris wouldn't miss a thing, would he?

— I don't want to talk about it.

— Okay.

— It's just silly stuff from school.

— If it's bothering you, then it's not silly — he started, and Tess finished the sentence with him, her voice was filled with impatience and discomfort.

— I know, I know. — she sighed. — Still, I don't feel like talking right now.

— Sure. — Kris kept driving. — Do you want to get some ice cream?

— I have class.

— It's okay, we have time. — He turned the wheel to the right and started to look for an ice cream parlor. They arrived at a commercial street very quickly. — Here it is.

— It can't be open.

— It is! — he parked without any problem. At this time in the morning, no one was driving or passing by a street like that, but, thankfully, the parlors and cafeterias were open — still empty, but open.

— So, — he turned off the car. — ice cream?

— I hate when you do this

Kris smiled.

— you hate many things but you love ice cream, don't you?

— yes.

— So let's go.

Kris made her smile — well, she was smirking but it counted —, and they approached the parlor with joy.

The man was about to crack a joke when a man showed up by the empty street corner.

Kris' steps slowed down, recognizing him immediately. He, however, didn't allow Tess to have the chance to look at the other man.

— Tessa. — He turned her over to him. — I'll be right after you, ok? Here, get the one you want. — Tessa noted something was wrong, but she obeyed and walked over to the parlor, keeping distance from the other man.

As she reached the shop, Kris waited for the man to come closer.

— Sergeant Voight. — Kris spoke with a tense voice. He already knew what this was all about. He knew what he was going to ask. That's why he didn't take any of Voight's calls. — How can I help you?

— You know how. — Voight was holding a file. — I need a profiling, off the books.

— The feds would be happy to help you with this.

— No. — Hank stepped closer, — they can't know. We still don't know the length of this and...

— Maybe one of them can be involved. — Kris grunted under his breath. He looked away and remained in silence for many minutes.

— We've got 9 victims so far. — Hank would say whatever he needed to convince the man. — It's a clear M.O but we cannot predict too much besides that. My team and I—

— Okay. — Kris spoke suddenly. This time, when he looked back at the Sargent, his eyes shone discreetly. — I'm in. — His look jumped to the girl in the parlor, now appreciating her ice cream. — With one condition. My daughters have to be safe , no matter what.

— Nothing will happen to them. — Voight handed him the file. — I already spoke with your boss, he said he'll take care of the center until you're done helping us.

Kris laughed.

— You're a step ahead, as always. — Kris walked away from the Sargent. — See you there.

Voight nodded and left.

And Tess was watching everything when Kris finally came to the parlor.

— You're getting back, aren't you? — Tess sounded suspicious. Her hands were squeezing the bowl of ice cream with strength.

— You don't have to worry about it. — Kris said, helding one of her hands in an attempt to calm her down. Her expression slowly softened. — I made sure you and Amber we'll be safe and... — He showed a mischievous smile. — you have your own high school drama to live now, forget about me.

Tess rolled her eyes at his words.

— I'm not telling you anything.

— Yeah? I doubt it. I think you will come up with five profiles by next week.

— God, you make me sound creepy.

Kris laughed proudly and loudly.

— What can I say? It's our family thing.

X

Arriving at the police station would never be discreet: as soon as Kris left his car, half a dozen officers turned to him. Some smiled, some widened their eyes, but the loudest of all was Ruzek, who cheered and shouted as he came closer.

— Can't believe you're here, man — Adam hugged Kris and tapped his back. — I always thought you'd come back

— Hold on, I'm not back — "yet", Adam whispered, interrupting Kris while they walked to the unit floor — Voight asked for help and that's it. Don't get too excited.

— I'm not, but Kim will be. She's been curious about you since Myk and Amber started playing together.

— But she already knows me… — Kris was confused, he couldn't understand the reason behind Adam's excitement in time

— But she doesn't know ‘Bishop’! — Kris grunted in distress — It's good to have you back, Bishop

Adam walked away laughing as they came upstairs and met with the rest of the unit. Voight, Upton, Torres, Burgess and Atwater stared at Kris immediately.

— Team, that's Aller, former FBI profiler. — Voight introduced him — He’s going to help us with this case, so bring him up to date.

The man nodded respectfully and came closer as Torres stepped in and showed him the board.

— We have 9 corpses, 9 places and 9 crime scenes. All of these men were killed between 9 p.m to 3 a.m, with chains and inner burns.

Inner? Kris frowned at the words and stared attentively at the photos.

— They were cooked. — Kim explained with a choked voice. — Tortured during the whole night. We can’t get why, we don’t have any suspects…We don’t even have images. Only the bodies.

— And we don’t have much more of them, either…They had to be identified by their dental arch.

— It’s cruel. — Kevin said.

— It’s personal. — Kris spoke. — The victims had any enemies in common?

— No one. Nothing, to be honest. — Adam approached the board with the photos of the victims. — Different jobs, different homes, different colors and ages…But the same way of death.

Silence took over the room. Again, confusion and tension paired in the air as the new member of the unit stared at all the data, and all the other members watched him. He was totally still, eyes frozen on one name on the board.

— Benjamin Cooper. — Adam broke the silence with anxiety, pointing at the name that Kris so determinedly looked at. — No criminal record, but he testify years ago in—

— I know him. — Kris cut him off, and his eyes finally moved: his gaze landed on Voight. His expression, even though still as before, focused on the sergeant for too long. — He’s the reason why I’m here.

Voight looked away: the discomfort made him move around the room as Hailey watched them both suspiciously.

— Why do you mean? — Kim inquired.

— I…I worked on the case he testified in. — Aller explained. — Thanks to him…it all went wrong.

— I want you to talk with his family. — Voight demanded. — They know something, but didn’t tell us anything. They’ll talk to you.

Kris crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t take long to agree with the sergeant.

— Is this a pattern? — He asked before walking away from the board. — The other victims were involved in the case too?

— No. None of them had ever testified. — Torres replied.

— Cooper was a dead loss, the testimony was the only thing that could get him killed. — Kris went on. — He might be our connection.

— You heard him. Investigate the man, make a timeline of the night he was murdered, discover every single contact of his and find a connection. Every little detail can be important. — Voight gave the orders as he followed Kris.

They were about to walk downstairs when a strong voice stopped them.

— If Benjamin was a ‘dead loss’ as you said — Upton spoke up — why waste our time on him? The killer might act again tonight and we have to—

— Do we have any better leads? — Voight’s voice was sharp, his reaction was abrupt and harsh. His voice would grow louder if Kris hadn’t held him. — What? — He screamed at Aller.

— Calm down.

— I am perfectly calm for this case, Kristoff, but I cannot bear to see another dead body because of him .

Kris’ expression went dark. He bended over Voight.

— You’re not thinking straight….— Kris whispered. — Stay here. Remember what we talked about. I’m going to talk with the Coopers.

Voight walked back to the unit floor, and, before going into his office, he ordered again:

— Upton, you go with him.

She opened her mouth to protest, but Hank had already shut the door close.

Hailey picked up her coat and walked away with Kris, in complete silence.

They went downstairs and passed by Platt's balcony with a quiet goodbye. Even though the Sergeant clearly tried to talk with Kris, the man walked across the entrance and ignored all her glances.

Again, Hailey watched his behavior in silence and kept her way to the car.

— I'm sorry about Voight. — Kris said before getting closer to the passenger side. — This case is…. complicated to him.

They got into the car and Hailey asked:

— Yet, he won't tell us anything about it.

— It's a confidential case. — He argued.

— So confidential that you think everyone involved in it's a target. — She started the car.

— You need a connection. That might be it.

— Is this your profile? Or just a guess?

Kris responded with a snort.

— You're better off without knowing much about this case, believe me. — He shrugged in his seat. — Are we going to the Coopers or not?

Hailey grunted and drove away from the police station.

X

The house of the last members of the Cooper family was simple and humble. The garden looked abandoned, the grass was tall and the fence was almost completely broken. The car parked in the open garage was lowered, with empty tires and cracked windows.

They did not look simply poor — they looked like they had given up on life itself.

— I think it’s better if you stay here. — Kris spoke before Hailey could exit the car. Luckily or not, she froze for a second, giving him time to leave and walk over to the house.

After collecting herself, Upton got out of the car and ran after him.

— Excuse me? — She grabbed his arm and made him turn to her. — Who do you think you are?

— Look, don’t make this personal. Just — He cut her off before she could argue back — Just look around. They won’t talk to you.

— But to you they will? You're as arrogant as any shrink who's never been in the streets.

Kris watched her speak in silence: with his hands in his hips, he only waited for the woman to be done.

She stopped talking very quickly — after all, it was useless to say anything to his blank, strained expression — and the man enjoyed the silence of the street before finally replying:

— They will talk to me because they know me. — He stepped back. — Now, if you excuse me…

Ignoring his arguments, Hailey followed Aller close behind. He didn’t utter another word to her, and finally knocked on the house’s door.

— Anna? — Kris called. — It’s Kristoff. Can we talk?

Unlike the reception Upton and Voight received a few days ago, the woman answered him quickly and promptly. Her eyes were widened when she opened the door, but she frowned at Hailey. Anna’s face dropped, and she muttered to Kris a few words.

Kris signed to Hailey and they both followed the woman into the house.

— Can I see Benjamin's room?

— She already did — Anna replied before Upton could — They took all his gadgets and notebooks.

— I know. — Kris smiled gently. — I just want to check one thing up

Anna stared at him for too long — her gaze was heavy, not suspicious, but, somehow, sad. It carried so much guilt that she eventually showed him the room.

— I'm waiting in the kitchen. — she told them before opening the door of Benjamin's bedroom.

Kris stepped in as Anna walked away.

— As she told you, we already searched in here. You won't find anything useful.

— Maybe not. — Kris replied with a whisper, his whole being focused on analyzing the room. The walls were empty, and so was the bed and the dressers. — Looks like a prison cell.

— Or he was just minimalist. — Hailey argued. — Cooper's never been in jail.

— Yes. — Aller came closer to a drawer. — But he also had three records for criminal harassment. He was a stalker. — Kris wandered through the drawer and collected a few flyers. — Here it is.

— What?

— Our connection.

He didn't give Hailey time to question — Aller stormed out the room and came to Anna.

— Thank you for your help, Anna — He held out his hand to her. — We're already leaving.

The woman shook his hand and blinked slowly, as if gathering courage to say something.

— I have to tell you something. — Anna admitted.

Hailey saw Kris' expression drop — he stepped back and prepared to leave right away.

— You'd already told everything you needed. — He tried to be polite, but Hailey purposely stood in his way. He stomped on the detective and was obligated to stop.

— I did thank you. — Anna came closer, but Aller didn't look her in the eye. — But I never apologized for leaving you there. I shouldn't—

— It's okay. — He cut her off. — You don't have to. It's already gone. I don't resent you.

He smiled at her for a brief moment — only enough time to make her feel forgiven and understood.

Then he shook his head and left the house after saying a quiet goodbye.

Hailey stood there without understanding much — where was 'there'? What was Anna talking about? why would she thank him?

Upton followed him keenly — she wasn't going to stay in the dark again.

The way to the police station was silent: the tension stretched the air, making the atmosphere too heavy to even breathe. Kris shifted in his seat, his eyes were either moving to the window or to the driver's side. Hailey, on the other hand, kept her gaze on the streets.

When they parked and got out of the car, Platt was already waiting for them — for him.

The look that the Sargent gave Hailey showed her why the garage was completely empty. Trudy was furious.

— Have you gone mad? — She stomped over to Aller, and the man stepped back immediately. — What are you even—

— I guess your best ability is pissing the sargents off. — Hailey’s smile dropped as soon as Platt's gaze landed on her.

Kris spoke before Trudy could shout.

— This isn't the best place to talk about this. — He made Platt look at him again. — And you don't have to worry about it. — He held the sergeant's shoulders. — No one does. No one knows.

— Voight shouldn't have called you. You shouldn't be involved in any of this—

— Trudy, please— His eyes, shining with exasperation, turned to Upton for a brief second. — Don't—

— You can't help him! — She screamed.

And Hailey was watching and listening to everything. Maybe the whole station was.

— I can. — Kris' voice was still low, stable. Serene, the complete opposite of his face. — I will. Please, you—

— Aren't you thinking about your girls? How can you? He did—what he did was monstrous! — Platt would not stop. She could not stop. — He spanked you.

— I know. — Kris whispered as his arms involved the older woman. She was trembling under his hands.

— He raped you. — Platt sobbed, her tears were falling nonstop. — And you're being used again, you're ruining your life again for what? For him?

— I'm going to be fine, Trudy. I can do it.

— Voight's using you. — She pleaded again: — You can't—

— It's okay. — He hugged her tighter. — It's okay.

They stayed in the garage until the Sargent was able to stop crying. Until she was able to stop trembling.

And Hailey stayed there too.

She now had — at least a few — answers for all her questions about him.

[telemna-hyelle]

Had a thought earlier, wrote a little ficcy. Enjoy!

Link and Malon stood on the bottom rung of the fence around the pasture, leaning over the top and watching the Epona frisk back and forth across the grass, chasing after butterflies.

“She’s so fast!” Link gasped, stars glittering in his eyes, and Malon puffed up as proudly as a cucoo chick.

“Of course she is!” She chirped. “Her sire is our fastest stallion. When she grows up, she’ll be the fastest mare on the ranch!”

“The fastest?” Link’s voice was full of awe, and he stared at the little filly admiringly.  “Can I ride her when she gets big?”

“You know her song, so I bet she’ll let you!” Malon said, grinning at him. “Can you imagine what it’d be like? I bet it’d be like flying!”

Link bounced a little on the fence, eyes glued on the filly excitedly. He could already imagine what it’d be like—with Epona being a blood chestnut, it’d be like he was riding a great red bird through the skies!

That sounded really really awesome. His whole inside felt airy and hot with excitement; Link didn’t think he wanted to do anything quite so badly before.

“Ahhhhh it sounds so cool!” He rocked back and forth on the rail with a pout. “But it’s gonna be forever until I can ride her.”

“I know.” Malon slouched on the top rail. “Papa says the time will pass in the blink of an eye, but that’s because he’s old.”

They shared a commiserating glance on the denseness of grownups.

“I don’t wanna have to wait years.” Link said wistfully, staring at Epona as she ran. “I wish I could ride her tomorrow.”

~.D.B.A.~.D.B.A.~

Riding Epona was like flying. Link had never gone so fast as when he raced Ingo around the track. His hat and hair whipped in the wind, the air singing in his ears as it rushed past. Finally, they tore past the finish line, but when Ingo started screaming, Link knew that wasn’t the end of it.

He eyed the fence at the far end of the ranch, and Epona snorted and tossed her head eagerly, almost as if she could read his mind.

“You sure about this, girl?” he shouted over the wind, and Epona tossed her head again, picking up the pace.

Link laughed, and leaned over her neck, letting her have her head just a bit—

They hurtled across the field, and as the ranch’s wall rose high and forbidding before them, Epona gathered herself and leapt. She soared over the fence, and for a glorious moment, they were surrounded by nothing but the bright azure of the sky, with the ground far, far below. Link laughed, and Epona neighed, and Link felt nothing in all his life had ever felt so wonderful.

But they hung there in the sky only for a moment, and then Epona arched gracefully to the ground, artfully keeping her footing as her hooves thudded onto the dirt path.

Link laughed again, and reached forward to pat Epona, his heart still riding high. “You did amazing, girl,” he said, and laughed as Epona preened. “You’d think we’d done that before.”

Epona whickered, and bent to snatch a mouthful of grass. But they couldn’t celebrate for long—Link could hear Ingo’s yelling getting closer by the second, so he urged Epona into a run.

They left the ranch behind them as the galloped towards the horizon, the ground rolling away behind them… and together they flew across Hyrule field, a streak of brilliant crimson and emerald in the noonday sun…

Just as swiftly, perhaps, as a boy and his bird had once soared over a sea of clouds.

[blackest-soul]

Fool for Falling | S.R. x You

Working for BAU, for the last three years has been a blessing and a curse. On on hand, the financial stability of having a stable job (albeit, one that is mentally and physically exhausting) is something that you can finally enjoy--- but honestly, nursing a crush on one of your co-workers for three fucking years is starting to get on your nerves. You definitely need an outlet to contain your crush on Spencer Reid and song writing has been a huge help. Taylor Swift has been a huge help, especially with the release of Speak Now, the ultimate album for crushes. For hopeless crushes and confessions. You gave a huge sigh and your best friend, Penelope, rolled her chair over to your side and asked you how you are. “I’m fine, Pen. Just a little bit tired and stressed. It has been a hell of a week and I still need to play at the bar for extra income.” You answered. Ever since you have mistaken Penelope Garcia as someone like you, a Filipina, you two have been inseparable. She gets you like no one else, so giving out lengthy answers to her simple questions has (and will always be) the norm.

“It is a Friday, babe. Don’t you want to skip playing for tonight and hang out with us?” Penelope asked. “The team is planning to go out for some drinks tonight and I have it on good authority that our boy genius will also join us.” She added with a wink. I’m pretty sure everyone in the team knows of my crush on Spencer, except for him. He can be a little dumb sometimes.

“I kinda need the extra income for tonight, loves. Student debt and all. Plus, I kinda wanna attend the Filipino Film Festival tomorrow, so I want to have some money to splurge on.” You shrugged. You turned around and started packing your stuff, including your guitar and started walking towards the exit when Pen stopped you.

“Hey, what if we hang out at the bar tonight? I want to hear you play, Y/N. Pretty please. I promise we wont disturb you too much!” Pen excitedly whispered. Not gonna lie, you were a little bit scared and nervous. No one in the team has seen this side of you plus singing your songs, with Spencer watching you. Isn’t that a little too much of a cliche? Whatever, you are late and you kind of want to hang out with them afterwards, so this is definitely a win-win. Whatever, you need a release. Singing your songs to Spencer Reid might knock some sense into him. “Okay, Pen. You guys can come at Lola Amour’s tonight. I need to go ahead and prepare for my set but I will see you there.” You said and walked away. As the elevator doors closed, you heard Pen’s squeal and immediately gathered the whole team to go to the said bar ------ At Lola Amour’s

“Hey” You greeted to the bar owner. “I have some of my friends coming over, can I reserve that table over there. Near the stage, but not near enough to get on my nerves.” “Yeah sure. Anyone in particular coming over?” Pio, the owner and another singer, asked. “A crush.” “Damn, Y/N! This set is gonna be so awesome. You know how long I waited for this day to fucking happen.” Pio smiled as he prepared the stage for both of our sets. “How many songs are you planning to play for the good doctor?” He probed. “Three, maybe four? I want to play that song. The one we wrote together. Fallen. Join me on the stage?”

“Sure! Been a while since we played that song. Pretty sure you wrote that...6 months since you met him” “Shut up! I did not!!” I half-whispered, half shouted to him. You saw the team coming in and you started to panic a little. Pio, the good friend that he is, saw your face and immediately knew. He has seen you have crushes before, but this one, Dr. Spencer Reid, is different. He has heard of the songs this guy has inspired out of you and as a musician, he is so fucking excited to see Y/N sing her heart out. “They are here.” You whispered.

“I know. Let me finish this set up while you greet them. Be fast tho, show will start in 10 mins and you will open.” Pio answered. “Y/N!!!!” Pen shouted as you come over their table. “This place is so amazing! I’m so pissed that you kept such a nice bar to us” “I know! I am so sorry but I sort of wanted to keep this place and my side gig a secret from the team for a while” I said as I try to apologize to the team for not letting them in sooner. “Hey, no need for those puppy eyes now. You need to be ready for your set. I demand some entertainment, Y/N” Derek said. I chuckled and tried to fix my hair as I try to gauge, Spencer’s reaction over this. He keeps looking around, maybe trying to see a different side of the world? A world where there is no violence... only art. And secret feelings. “I hope you guys would enjoy my set. The songs are really special to me so please be kind.”  You reminded them as I am walking towards the stage. “Don’t worry so much, Y/N. You will do great. You are already so amazing at many things.” Spencer said as he waves at me. You definitely do not need to overthink that statement. Get a grip, girl. You gave an awkward smile and even a more awkward wave. Jesus. ------- Start of Y/N’s Set

With the bar packed and everyone is served with drinks, Pio motioned for you to come up the stage to start. “Hey, everyone. Been a while since we last jammed together.” You said as the crowd cheered. Pio gave you a thumbs, indicating that you can say whatever your spiel is and that he will wait for your signal. “I am so excited to share and play some of my songs again, for you guys. I remember writing these three in particular, as I was nursing a very very very serious crush on one of my officemates. Luckily, the FBI is a fucking huge place so no one will ever figure it out, huh.” You continued your story and watched the reactions of your teammates. Hotch and Rossi raised their eyebrows, while the troublesome foursome (JJ, Pen, Derek, and Emily) gave some really really funny (and rude) finger guns and pointed at Spencer. Luckily, the resident genius is too oblivious or fascinated or maybe shocked to notice. This might be his first gig so you can’t be so sure. “Anyway, for this particular song... hmmm. I wrote this during the first year that we met. I remember debating if I should say something...about this crush. But then again, I got a little bit nervous and a lot scared. Hence, this song is my what if scenario. Everyone, this is Fallen.” The crowd cheered so loud, Pio’s guitar can barely be heard. What if I told you that I've fallen And I like the way you say my name? My heart skips a beat when I hear you calling And I like that it won't go away But never mind, don't wanna give you any trouble Never mind, never mind I'm OK with being by your side for as long as I can hide What if I told you that I've fallen? You started singing, Pio and the rest of the band continued playing on. Clearly enjoying the way you blushed and stuttered through some of the lyrics. Finally it’s Pio’s turn to sing the verse. What if I told you that I've fallen? The heart-shaped arrow through my chest I'll make your breakfast every morning And pick you up when you're a mess But I know that it won't ever stop You know I'll be there when you call me whether you like it or not Without a warning, now I'm falling for this picture on my phone But don't mind me, I'm just falling, I'll be back up on my own As Pio sings the next verse, you tried to observe Spencer. This song is really for him and honestly, you want to see his reaction. But due to the glare of the spotlight, you really can’t see any of his expression. You continued to sing the following lines, hoping, praying that Spencer will finally have the idea. After all, you really have fallen Please don't say my name, help me put out this flame I'd rather hold onto this feeling that you don't even believe in What if I told you that I've fallen? The song crescendoed through the chorus and last verse. You see some of the crowds cheering and singing along. You played this song before but this time it is different. You are playing the song with your muse in front, listening. You looked at your team again and saw them smiling (Hotch and Em), clapping, some of them trying to mouth the lyrics back to you (Derek and Pen), and some of them dancing through the chorus (JJ and Rossi) but you are honestly, just interested in Spencer’s reaction. Is that a blush you see? Is he hiding his smile? You can only hope so. The song ended and everyone cheered. Everyone wanted more and you decided to continue hyping the crowd up. “Wow, such a lovely crowd for tonight. So much energy. Let’s keep this up!!! Our next song is a crowd favorite!!!” The crowed cheered really loud this time as they hear the beat of the drums. “This song was written when I had too much wine. Jesus. I drank so much wine because Mr. Office Crush decided to shock my poor heart by not combing his curls. You know how hard it is to not run my hand over his hair. Ladies, understand, right?” The crowd collectively cheered and agreed as I try to narrate the story of how this song came to be. It was at a pool party, at Rossi’s. Spencer’s hair is all over the place and I remember getting a lot of wine because of it. I remember being tipsy and dancing with him. I remember a lot of laughter and giving Spencer lipstick kisses as a dare. “You guys know this song!!! So please sing with me. This song is called, Fools.” you shouted and began singing.  

Anticipating, waiting for the thrill I'm captivated, I don't know how I feel I'm suffocating, you seem so unreal And I can't keep waiting, so I'll go for the kill then I shiver (You say my name) it feels like fever Now it's got me begging You can do whatever you want to Baby, I'm no fool 'Cause even angels have demons on their shoulders too The band’s energy can really be felt through their instruments and you are  so excited to hype up everyone by playing the guitar even loudly while you sing the next parts. This is you favorite verse and you cannot wait for Spence to hear it: Relieve the tension, dance with me skin to skin I've no intention, but I don't see no ring It's a temptation and I wanna give in So forget your reasons, God gave the right to sin then I shiver

(You say my name) it feels like fever Now it's got me begging

You can do whatever you want to Baby, I'm no fool 'Cause even angels have demons on their shoulders too And you can say whatever you want to Baby, I'm no fool I know you want me like I want you too “Everybody stand up and dance!!” you shouted to the mic. The band really came through as they extended the instrumentals of the song, while you energetically jumped and down the stage. Damn, this feels like your very own concert and you love the energy the crowd is bringing. You tried to look for Spencer but his stare shocked you. You have never seen him give you this heated stare before. You grabbed the mic and sang the following lines while directly staring at his eyes:

You can do whatever you want to. Baby, I'm no fool. I know you want me like I want you too. I finished the song. Licked my lips and sent a wink to Spencer. I hope he gets it now. ---- Done for now. Let me know if you guys want a part 2 or POV from Spencer!!!

[kaiswifeblog]

chris headcanons + drabbles!!

a/n: sooo i was rewatching the dick turpin horrible histories video and my crush on mathew baynton came back up so i did a challenge for myself to watch everything with mat in it and today i nearly finished spy 2011 and im in love with silly guy chris!!

-let's just pretend you are a teacher at Markus school and (let's imagine he went to pick up Markus with Tim one time) and you were walking out the children. -and when he saw you his world freaking did a backflip. -so he started picking Markus up (with Tim ofc) more. -and he starts conversations with you and a lot of flirting too!!.

"bye kids! see you tomorrow!" you shouted at them.

Then Markus arrived with his signature walk. "good afternoon mrs./mr./mx. [last name] i wanted to ask you something about the assignment next week?" he asked "yes what is it-" you started before someone cut you off

"woah! hey little one what's taking you so long and..." he looked at you up and down "hello im chris uh... Markus dads friend i watch the little one when hes at work" "aww thats very nice of you chris i wish more parents had friends like you"

"trust me you really wouldn't" Markus mumbled "hey now Markus that's not nice thing to say to a friend now about that assignment"

-and after that he quits his job as at the tech store and as a fake lawyer for Tim and does an interview with Philip to get a job as a teacher. -and that's his first day at the school! -so during one of your classes you take the kids out to make a lesson in the nature and during that Chris is teaching his p.e class so you just go and strike up a conversation with him.

"hey chris right?" "yes um..." "y/n im Markus science teacher" "y/n a cute name for a cute girl/boy/person".

you blush but then start hearing someone scream, turning around you see markus on a bike attached to a carrier carrying his dad while there was a woman following them.

that is until you saw chris knock her off with the hockey bat.

-after that you started seeing Chris more and more and let's just say you started developing a crush on him. -and he is a lot flirtarious with you. -until Bernice arrived. Chris started going after her instead of you. -all day he said "oh we're gonna duet together at the summer ball!" and let's just say you we're jealous. -you didn't see him all day, you just heard things from Markus friends that Bernie hates him and that he's sad about it. -at the end of the day you saw Chris again and he started singing about how he hates Bernie and at the end of the day you approached himnear the tree, he had his guitar with him so you asked him to sing you a song and that he did while confessing to you with that silly smile of his.

work by @kaiswifeblog please dont steal my work!!!

[jaxteller87]

paintball

THE TEENAGE YEARS

We were coming home after a fun day out, and I asked Kim if I could take Amber to the paintball war room. Her mom liked me for the most part; at least, I felt like she did. I knew her parents were a little old-fashioned, which I respected, so I always made it a point to do things slightly old-school whenever they were around. On the flip side of things, though, when it was just Amber and I— I tended to be a bit more relaxed but still gentlemanly. Regarding the paintball war room, I thought Amber would have a blast. As it would turn out, I was right. The war room was a total wreck; neon paint splashed everywhere like someone went crazy with a paintball gun. Colors were smeared all over the walls, floor, and even the ceiling. It looked like a tornado rolled through a paint shop. It was chaotic, messy, and absolutely perfect. We ducked and dodged, laughed and shouted, letting ourselves get totally lost in the freedom of the moment. When it was time to head back, I could just tell by the look on Amber’s face that she had a better time than she expected. To be honest, I knew she would like it, but she seemed to love it so much that she asked me if Opie and Donna would like to join us next time. The drive back was nice. The setting sun cast a warm orange glow over the road, making it look like some image plucked right from a “Wish You Were Here” West Coast postcard. I was enjoying the hum of the road, as I often do being in the MC, but I guess it wasn’t stimulating enough for Amber. She reached down and turned on the radio. It was strange, almost as if she planned it, but I couldn’t believe the song that was on. Biggie’s “Big Poppa” played through the speakers, and it was just starting. Amber’s eyes lit up, and she turned the volume up loudly. The bass thumped through the truck, and Amber began singing along.

“I love it when you call me Big Poppa Throw your hands in the air if youse a true player I love it when you call me Big Poppa To the honies gettin’ money playin’ fellas like dummies I love it when you call me big poppa.

You got a gun up in your waist; please don’t shoot up the place.

’Cause I see some ladies tonight that should be havin’ my baby. Uh!” I took the opportunity to add my little contribution to the song:

“Baby!”

Laughing, singing, and smiling, I glanced over at Amber, who was covered head to toe in paint. Her hair was streaked with vibrant colors, creating a wild, beautiful chaos that framed her face. I chuckled and shook my head, thinking that she looked like she just beat the shit out of an army of clowns. Her eyes sparkled like stars, and her cheeks were flushed with excitement. She looked amazing, as always. The neon colors on her skin seemed to glow, highlighting her natural beauty in a way that took my breath away. I wished she could see how wonderful she truly was, how her spirit shone through every playful smear of paint and every carefree laugh. Maybe one day she would see herself the way I saw her in that moment—utterly extraordinary. As the song wrapped up, Amber turned down the radio. “Thank you, Teller. I had a wonderful time today.” “It was my pleasure,” I smiled, pulling into the driveway. I walked her to the front door, where her mother was standing, watering her flowers. “It sure looks like you guys had fun.” “Thanks again, Kim, for letting me take her,” I said. “Of course,” Kim smiled. “So, Amber, do you got anything going on tomorrow?” “Nah, I don’t think so. Just hanging around the house. You?” I shrugged, “Not really.” “You know, you really should hang out with the boys tomorrow. I don’t want them to think I stole you, and then next thing you know, everyone hates me.” Amber said. “Aw, you don’t have to worry about that. But yeah, I should catch up with Ope tomorrow.” “No paintballing without me, though!” She shouted. “Alright, darling,” I laughed, getting back in my truck. The next day, I made plans to go out with some of the guys, but they canceled on me at the last minute. I was just about to call Amber to see if she wanted to do something when I heard Opie’s bike pull into my driveway. “Hey, brother,” Opie said with a nod, walking over to my fridge and grabbing himself a beer. “How’d everything go yesterday?”

“Better than I expected,” I replied as he handed me a beer of my own. “And to be honest, I expected it to go pretty good as it was, so…” “That’s great!” Donna clapped her hands. “You want a drink, babe?” Opie asked her. “No thanks. So, Jax, Amber had a good time then?” I nodded while chugging my beer. “It definitely seemed that way.” “Good!” “Yeah,” I let out a small belch, “Anyway, I got a question for you two. Mainly you, Ope.” “No,” he joked before I could get the first word out. “No?” Donna scoffed. “You really gonna tell me no, Ope?” Opie stared into my eyes like we were on a date. After an awkward pause, he finally said something. “Aw, who can say no to those big old dough-boy eyes of yours?” I rolled those big old dough-boy eyes, “Oh, brother.” “Opie, let the boy speak,” Donna laughed. “I was just thinking that maybe next week we could all go down to the paintball war place in town. I took Amber, and she loved it. She actually asked me if we could all go sometime, so I figured with you guys here and paintball fresh on my mind, now’s a good time to pop the question.” Opie spit out a little of his beer, “Pop the question!?” “Uh, yeah? Why not?” I asked. “Bro, marriage is a huge thing. I know you guys are great together, but that’s a bit quick, don’t you think?” Opie looked like he just saw a ghost. “Marriage?” I reared back. “Ope, I’m just talking about a double date at the paintball place.” “Oh,” Opie looked relieved. He took another sip of his beer, this time almost finishing it. “We’d love to,” Donna smiled. “Yeah… I guess I could go,” Opie chuckled and shook his head. “Great! Double date at the paintball room. I’ll go call Amber and let her know,” Donna said, giving her man a kiss on the cheek before disappearing out of the kitchen.

“I was only joking. I hope you know that,” Opie said. “Oh, I know,” I said, taking a drink of my beer. “Not that I don’t think you guys will get married, but it just seems a little early. These are our teenage years, Jax. Take your time and enjoy them because you only get so many. Less than a decade as a teen, then a lifetime of being an adult.” It was a bit morbid to think these were the best years of our lives, but living in the moment was the way to go. “Yeah, you’re right. Good thing I was talking about giving her a paintball gun and not putting a ring on it.” “That’s probably best for now,” Opie chuckled. “I see a difference in her, though.” “Who? Amber?” He nodded. Amber was a bit hard around the edges when it came to joining in on plans. I think she always felt like a burden to the rest of us like she didn’t fit in, but that wasn’t the case. She and Donna are practically best friends, and even Donna says she’s distant at times. I knew that doing things as a group made Amber more likely to join in, and, like Ope said, the difference was noticeable. “I don’t know if it’s because we give her the confidence or what, but Amber is the reason why I don’t put up a fight to do things.” “What are you boys whispering about?” Donna walked back into the room. “Oh, nothing, honey,” Ope said, leaning back in his chair. A few weeks later, we were at the paintball place. Paint was flying everywhere. “Teller! Winston!” the girls both yelped as we carried out our well-thought-out ambush. Just as they rounded one of the corners, Ope and I descended upon them, each of us tossing a paint grenade at their feet before letting go of a relentless barrage of semi-automatic paintballs. A few days later, I was flipping through the pictures Donna took. Every time we hang out, she makes sure to snap at least one shot of us together. Says it’s for when we’re old and gray, so we’ve got something to look back on. She had managed to snap a picture of Opie and Amber laughing, looking at each other. “You know, he told me what you guys were talking about when I went inside the other day,” Donna admitted, breaking the silence. “Is that so?” I responded, still staring at the picture. The image of Opie and Amber laughing together captured a rare, genuine moment. “He’s right. There’s a difference in her. I don’t know if it’s partly because you two finally gave in to your feelings for each other or if it’s because we do things as a group that she’s finally coming out of her shell,” Donna said, her tone thoughtful.

“Honestly, I think it’s both,” I smiled.