#like good fucking GODS Whisper is getting put through the wringer more than anyone right fucking now

[fstbmp-a]

I'm finally catching up on Whisper icons and good gods she has been getting the shit beaten out of her physically and mentally for the better part of this year, hasn't she?

[drabbles-mc]

Exceptions (2/2)

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader

Part 1

Warnings: language, mentions of alcohol, light angst/jealousy

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Part 2! I’ve re-read this a million times and I’ve gone back and forth on whether I’m happy with it or not lol. But it’s hard to be too upset with a happy Juice haha. Hope you guys enjoyed this! Been a while since I set out to do a quick multi-part story that doesn’t go on indefinitely haha. 

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There was some sort of shift after that night between you and Juice. He always hung around the bar when you worked, but lately he made a point to really check in with you throughout the night. Truthfully, you’d gotten used to it and it had become a part of what felt like your nightly routine, not that you would ever admit that to anyone. But his presence felt much more purposeful than before. You wondered if it was obvious just to you but Opie had pulled you aside at one point to check and make sure that Juice wasn’t bothering you at all, which confirmed your belief that it was more than a little obvious.

“I’ll tell him to leave you alone, you know,” his voice was rough but there was a hint of a smile on his face.

You laughed, shaking your head, “No, no. Don’t. It’s fine, Ope, really. He’s being…sweet.”

The amused grin on his face grew a little wider, “You feelin’ alright?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You actually don’t mind one of the guys hanging around you all the time? That…doesn’t sound right.”

You gave him a light, playful slap to the chest, “Shut up.”

He noticed the way that you weren’t meeting his eyes and he was eating up every second of it, “Want me to tell him to come over more?”

“Opie, I swear to god,” you tried to sound serious but you were too busy laughing, “if you don’t let this drop I’ll—”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckled, “I’ll stop. I’m just saying, though.”

“Mhm,” you gave him a shove, “Now get out from behind my bar.”

Opie laughed as he walked away to join the rest of the guys, pulling Lyla onto his lap once he sat down. He motioned for her to lean closer and even though you couldn’t hear what he was saying to her, you could tell by the way she flashed a quick smile over at you that he was talking to her about the exact thing he said that he’d drop. You knew that neither of them would stick their nose into it in a way that mattered, but you knew you were going to catch grief from them about it nonetheless.

You forced yourself to focus on your job. You mixed drinks and popped caps off of beer bottles as everyone came up and placed their orders. You hadn’t seen Juice for most of the night since he initially showed up and greeted you. You mentally kicked yourself for even noticing it, let along feeling some type of way about it. You didn’t know what exactly the feeling was, but it wasn’t good.

You were about to step outside to take a break for a couple minutes, asking the prospect to hold it together so you could try and catch your breath. However as you looked out over the expanse of the clubhouse you saw Juice sitting on one of the couches, with a girl from Cara Cara straddling his lap. Suddenly it made sense why you hadn’t seen him since he first got there.

He didn’t see you looking, and it was definitely better that way. You pushed down the feeling of disappointment as you grabbed a beer for yourself and made your way towards the door. You sat down on the picnic table, grateful that everyone was inside in the midst of the chaos so you had a couple minutes to yourself. The cool night air ripped through you, causing you to shiver, but you weren’t ready to go back in yet.

Once your beer was finished, you knew that you had to head back inside and finish off your shift. Running your hands down your face, you let out a deep sigh as you got up to head back into the mess. You tried to get your mind right, reminding yourself why you put distance between you and all of your patrons to begin with. You should’ve known better than to make exceptions to the rules, even if the exceptions had pleading brown eyes like Juice.

You got back behind the bar, dismissing the prospect with a good-natured smile, “Back into the wild with you,” you laughed as you gently nudged him out from behind the bar.

“You sure? I-I can still work. It’s really not—”

“Go,” you forced a laugh, “These guys put you through the wringer enough, you should get to enjoy some of the good stuff too. If I need you, I’ll yell.”

The end of his mouth kicked up into a smirk as he nodded, “Thanks. I’ll, I’ll be around.”

You silently shook your head as you watched him scamper off into the throws of the party. You took a few long, slow breaths as you collected up the bottles that had been tossed onto the surface of the bar, giving it a quick wipe-down despite the fact that it would be cluttered again within a matter of minutes.

When you turned back around to see if anyone was waiting to get a drink, you came face-to-face with Juice. He had the same cheery smile on his face that you were used to seeing on him, but you were still too busy beating yourself up to enjoy it. He immediately noticed the way that you wouldn’t meet his eyes and his smile dulled instantly.

“You good?”

You nodded, “Yea, all good. You?” you braced your hands against the bar, “Want a drink?”

He hadn’t heard you use a cold tone with him in a while, and it caught him off-guard, “N-no. I just…I came to see how you’re doing,”

“I’m good,” you nodded, busying yourself with the stacked glasses on your side of the counter.

“You sure?” you could feel that he was waiting for you to look at him.

“So sure,” you chuckled but it was hollow. You popped the tops off two beer bottles and slid them across to him, “Here. One for you and one for your friend,” you nodded towards the girl who had been in his lap, who was now sitting on the arm of the couch and leaning down to whisper something into Chibs’ ear.

He looked back and forth between the two of you, “She’s not—”

“I don’t need t—” you stopped yourself, “I don’t wanna know. Not my business.”

Before he had the chance to say anything else, you walked to the other end of the bar and made yourself look busy while doing a whole lot of nothing. You could do that for as long as it took him to walk away. He hung back and stared at you for a minute, but when he realized that you weren’t going to budge, he grabbed the bottles with a sigh and walked away.

As the night wore on, every now and then you’d feel Juice’s eyes on you. You knew that whatever problem was starting to brew there was one of your own creation. You were the one who was constantly telling the guys not to waste their time and when they decided to listen you let yourself get your feelings hurt. He didn’t do anything to deserve the cold shoulder that you were giving him, but you gave it anyway. It would only take a few shifts to get your mind right again and surely he would survive that without a problem.

“Hey,” Opie’s voice ripped you off your train of thought.

You looked over at him, forcing a smile, “Hey, what’s up?”

“You good?”

You nodded, “Yea, of course, why?”

“I’m used to Juice looking like a kicked puppy,” he chuckled quietly and shook his head, “It’s a new look on you though.”

You rolled your eyes, “Shut the fuck up.”

“What happened?”

“Not that it’s any of your business anyway,” you threw your rag down on the surface of the bar, “But nothing happened.”

“Mhm,” he nodded, lightly trailing his fingers through his beard as he waited for you to crack and say something more.

“Is there something in particular you would like, Opie?” you arched one eyebrow.

He shook his head, “Nope,” he rapped his knuckles against the bar top, “Just figured I’d check in on you. But if you’re alright then—”

“I am. Thank you.”

He knew better than to push his luck. If you really needed something he knew you’d ask. With a slight nod he walked away from the bar and you sighed as you watched him rejoin the rest of his crew. Running your hands down your face, you geared up to finish the rest of your shift. It was about the time that people started to disperse, and you wished that it was like the other bars you’d worked in where you could just start essentially kicking people out. But the clubhouse was more than just a bar—it was also home base for the MC and you didn’t get to kick them out of their own home.

You were sitting on a stool on the customer side of the bar, leaning back against it as you watched the crowd thin out. You’d lost track of Juice earlier in the night and it was probably for the best—he probably left with the girl you’d seen him with before

. And it was honestly better that way, or at least that’s what you were going to tell yourself.

“You want me to clean up tonight?” the prospect materialized in front of you, an expectant look on his face.

You smiled and shook your head, “I got it tonight, thank you though. Go home, get some rest.”

He didn’t wait around for you to possibly change your mind, quickly turning on his heel and making his way towards the door. You chuckled quietly to yourself and shook your head as you watched the door shut behind him as he left. After taking a couple minutes for the last of everyone to clear out, you stood up and set about getting things in order for the night. You shut the music off and started picking up the glasses and bottles that littered the tables throughout the clubhouse.

You were stacking dirty glasses into the dishwasher when you heard heavy footsteps making their way closer to you. You glanced back over your shoulder, expecting to see one of the guys coming out for one last beer to bring to their room or something of the sort, but instead you just saw Juice standing there, hands tucked into his pockets. He looked so different without his kutte on, just a plain white t-shirt with his cargo pants.

“Need something?” you asked without turning to face him.

“Was hoping you’d be in more of a mood to talk,” he stepped closer to the bar.

“About?”

“Did I, did I do something? Say something that upset you?”

You sighed, looking up at the ceiling for a moment before shaking your head, “No, you didn’t.”

“Then why won’t you make eye contact with me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you still didn’t turn around as you poured soap into the dishwasher.

It only took him a couple strides to appear behind you. You weren’t looking at him but you could feel how close he was. It might’ve been in your head, but you could’ve sworn that you felt the heat radiating off of his body. He was more than close enough to reach out and touch you, to try and turn you to face him, but he didn’t.

“C’mon, talk to me,” his voice was quiet, nonconfrontational.

“There’s,” you shook your head, lifting and shutting the door to the dishwasher with more force than necessary, “there’s nothing to talk about. I told you—you didn’t do anything.”

You knew that you could only stand there with your back to him for so long before you had to turn and look him in the eye. Taking one more deep breath you ripped the band-aid off and faced him. His eyes desperately searched yours, looking for answers that you didn’t want to give him.

“What’s going on?”

You forced yourself not to break eye contact, “I told you, it’s nothing. Better not hang out here too long,” you nodded towards the hall that led to the dorms, “your friend will start wondering where you ran off to.”

“My fr—” he stopped, shaking his head, “I’m by myself back there,” he chuckled and gestured with his arm, “You’re more than welcome to go look for yourself.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing one of the liquor bottles and pouring yourself a drink in one of the few clean glasses that were left, “I’ll just take your word for it.”

“That what’s been bothering you all night? That I was talking with that girl from—”

“Looked like more than just talking,” your tone was more bitter than you wanted it to be.

He chuckled, not amused by the fact that you were hurt, but more out of shock that you even cared at all, “I didn’t think that it would be topping your list of concerns. You made it pretty fuckin’ clear that none of us should waste our time chasing after you.”

“I know,” you leaned forward, bracing yourself on the edge of the bar, “I know. That’s why this is so fucking stupid. I’ve got no right to feel like this.”

He stepped in closer, “Feel like what?”

You downed your drink and all but slammed the glass down on the bar top, “Jealous.”

His eyes grew wide. Deep down he thought that that was what was going on, but it was also difficult for him to picture you being jealous at all, let alone over him. He reached out and gently rested his hand on your shoulder, “There something you wanna talk about?”

“No. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

He couldn’t help but to smile at how stubborn you were being, “C’mon. We’re friends, right? Talk to me.”

“Juice, stop,” your tone was annoyed but you could feel the weight in your chest starting to lighten as he pestered you with a knowing smirk on his face.

“What’s going on? You don’t get to ignore me all night and then tell me you’re jeal—”

“I like you, alright?” you huffed, shaking your head and running your hands over your head, “I like you. And I know it’s dumb and goes against everything I’ve ever said to any of you guys. But you’re sweet and funny and cute and I didn’t think anything of it until I saw you with that girl all over you and I just,” you sighed, “Fuck.”

He gave you a second to get your thoughts in order, leaning his back against the bar next to you. You weren’t looking directly at him but you could see the smile on his face. He gently nudged you, “Hey,” he waited for you to look at him, “I like you too. And, for the record,” he smiled, “you don’t have to be so upset about liking me. I’m not that bad.”

It finally got a laugh out of you, “I never said that.”

“That what this has been all about tonight?” he motioned back and forth between the two of you, “Because of some random girl who wouldn’t leave me alone?”

“You didn’t seem to mind it, Juice,” you shot him a disbelieving look.

He chuckled, “I’m only human, alright?” he turned his body so it was facing yours, “But why didn’t you just say something? Because I mean, I’ve never been subtle. You’ve known how I feel.”

You felt your face heating up, “I know.”

“Then why—”

“Because I didn’t want to admit it,” you turned so that you were finally facing him head-on, “And I’m sorry for that. And…for the rest of it.”

There was a smirk on his face, “It’s alright.”

“Why are you still being so nice to me after I was such a dick to you?”

He laughed, a wave of bravery washed over him and he reached out to rest his hands on your hips, “You weren’t that much of a dick.”

“Well,” you couldn’t help but to laugh, “thank you for that.”

“C’mere,” he chuckled as he pulled you in close and hugged you. You let yourself lean into him and for the first time all night you felt your body relax. His warmth bled over onto you immediately as you loosely draped your arms around him.

You felt him kiss the edge of your forehead and you pulled back to look at him. It was evident in his eyes that he was trying to figure out if he pushed it too far. You smiled as you reached up and rested one hand on his cheek for a moment before pulling him down to you and pressing your lips to his. You felt his lips curl into a smile as he wrapped his arms tighter around you.

When you finally pulled away to catch your breath, you could see the glint in Juice’s eyes, “What?”

He shook his head, smiling, “Nothing. Just, you should’ve done this way sooner.”

You laughed, playfully pushing against his chest, “Easy for you to say.”

He kissed you again, softly, “You wanna stay?”

You shook your head, “No way. I know what goes on back in those dorms,” you laughed for a moment, before continuing, “But, if you’re up for it, I will cash in on that lift home.”

His eyes lit up, “Yea?”

You nodded, “Yea,” you dropped your hands so your fingers interlocked with his as you tugged him towards the door, “C’mon.”

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Mirrors (Box Boy Kauri)

The Anon with the question about Kauri seeing Vincent Shield kind of took over my pre-work writing time today! Whoops. At least I got a little work done on Danny before I got distracted...

Tagging: @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp!

CW: Some references to past violence, brief/vague references to Kauri’s treatment by Owen, but nothing specific at all

Kauri doesn’t look in mirrors.

There are a few, around the house - in the bathrooms and one in Owen’s bedroom that’s big on the wall. He can’t quite escape that one, but he never has to look directly at it, so all he catches is a hint of his black hair, the curls that escape any attempt to control them, long thin limbs and pale skin. 

That’s it.

He never looks at his face.

When he brushes his teeth in the morning - when he uses the special soap for his skin and the washcloth over cheeks and mouth and jaw and nose and forehead - he doesn’t raise his eyes. Owen brushes out his hair and tells him if it’s good enough, and Kauri never ever looks at himself in the mirror.

He doesn’t like mirrors.

When he gets too close to them, his hands tingle, fingertips going sparking and numb and asleep. Look at 645898. His heart pounds, and he feels cold sweat on his neck that he can’t explain. There are too many mirrors even if there are hardly any.

It’s okay. He doesn’t need to look in mirrors, or worry about how he looks, because Owen will tell him when he looks good and when he doesn’t. Owen is very honest, and some people don’t like guys to be honest about whether or not you look good, and isn’t he so fucking lucky-

Incorrect mental aberration.

Kauri’s fingers twitch, and he can feel the little circles they pushed onto his skin that stuck, see the wires, the-... no. He forces that thought away, because the days he doesn’t remember the little circles are the better days.

Custom order, custom training. Look, I don’t make the rules. This is what’s on his paperwork. 

So I’m supposed to, what? Put pictures of this guy up on every wall?

I don’t know, don’t look at me. I’ve never had a custom for this kind of shit. Look at the custom positions here. Jesus, this kid’s going to be put through the wringer. Plus making him afraid of his own face? Whoever picked this one must be a real weirdo.

Sssshhh, 645898 will hear you say that.

Who gives a fuck what he thinks? It’s not like he’s people.

They all think they’re people, until they’re done. I guess I’ll try putting the pictures up. What else do you think I could do? Negative reinforcement?

Don’t know. Videos, maybe? Movies? Give ‘im a good once-over every time this idiot’s face is on the screen. Heard the guy’s in a shit ton of movies now. Or, hell, just whisper his fucking name in the pet’s ear.

You know we don’t touch ‘em, Connor. Not allowed. Nobody but the owner. Gets ‘em all nice and needy for the richies.

Yeah, well. Maybe I was a little fuzzy on the no-touching rule. Everyone makes mistakes now and then. 

Connor, you’re going to get fired if you keep messing with the merchandise.

Worth it. Besides, my success rate is excellent, they give me the ones that fight. Now, I can tell your jackass trainee’s been listening to us. Want to make him regret it?

Kauri cleans the mirrors without ever looking at them. There’s a cleaning lady who redoes all his work, but he doesn’t care. He only cleans to make time pass faster. He and Keira, working together. She bumps into his feet sometimes and it’s like having a cat or a dog, he tells himself. It’s like having something that cares about him.

He wants to look in the mirror, because he’s not supposed to look in the mirror. And Owen’s not home right now, so it’s the only chance he’ll get. He wants to he wants to he wants to.

He can’t.

It’s like remembering he used to be someone else, when he tries. And he’s not allowed to know if there was anyone else in his skin. It’s a face on the wall and a voice in his ear and the circles pressed against his temples and the pain.

His hands shake, his feet don’t feel the floor anymore. He tries to look at himself, to see the blue eyes and the black hair and the skin. Catches a glimpse and thinks, I didn’t know my eyes were shaped that way, that’s kind of pretty. I wonder if anyone else looks like me.

For just a half-second, he sees the same eyes, but longer hair. Her smiling face when he shoved his way past her down the stairs to where someone had breakfast ready for them. Out of my fucking way, jackass, she laughed at him with a backpack over her shoulders, and they tripped over each other at the landing, sprawling, and Mom yelled at them to get a move on already.

Kauri was mad, but he wasn’t really, because her name was Keira and his name was-

ERASED

There’s a sudden rush of white in his vision. He feels his knees buckle and his heart fall somewhere near the floor and a thunk and then nothing at all.

Kauri wakes up lying on the bathroom floor with Keira bumping into his arm. Kauri physical condition deteriorate. Kauri blood pressure drop. Kauri adrenaline. Kauri reassurance require? Keira provides.

“N-No,” Kauri whimpers. His head hurts - he must have hit it on the bathtub, and Owen will be pissed at him for giving himself a bruise. He’s not allowed to bruise. All the marks have to fade in less than two hours, that’s the rule. They all have to fade, and he’s not allowed to hurt himself, only Owen. “No, Keira, I’m okay, I’m okay, I just-... ow ow ow.”

He hears the door open and close, and freezes where he lays on the bathroom floor. Owen is talking on his phone, he thinks, and he sounds annoyed. “Yeah, sure, okay, I’ll have them over. Look, you don’t have to meet with her here, do you, Mom? You know Kauri is-... yeah, okay. No, I can lock him in my room or something. I know you don’t like to see them.”

Kauri’s eyebrows furrow. He’s never seen anyone in the condo but the cleaning lady, and she doesn’t talk to him. His head hurts, pounding on the right side where he must have hit the tub, and he groans, then claps a hand over his mouth.

Too late.

“Mom? I’ll call you back.” Owen’s voice is closer, and he opens stops in the open bathroom doorway, looking down at Kauri as he slides his phone into his back pocket.

Call for help

Who would you call? You signed up for this. You signed the contract, 645898.

“Hey, Kor-bore, watcha doin’ on the floor?” Owen grins at his own rhyme and Kauri smiles back at him, faintly, automatically. 

“I, um, fell over,” Kauri says, pushing himself onto his knees, into Position Two.

“Yeah, looks like. Shit, you’re gonna have a goose egg, huh?” Owen isn’t angry, and Kauri is confused for a second, until Owen leans over him, a shadow over his body, and presses hard into the red spot at the right side of Kauri’s head, half-hidden by his hair.

Kauri winces away from it, but Owen clicks his tongue three times and Kauri freezes, grabbing onto his pant legs, the soft jogger sweatpants, with fingers that dig hard into the fabric until his hands ache with the grip and the effort of holding still. Owen presses this thumb harder, and harder.

“Pl-please stop, Mr. Owen,” Kauri whines and then the thumb is gone, immediately, and he breathes a sigh of relief. Owen is so nice, to listen to him, when owners don’t have to listen to their Box Boys, Owen tells him all the time.

“What’d you do to hit your head like that?” Owen crouches in front of him, and there are things Kauri lies to him about, but he feels shaky and his head hurts, even worse now.

He can’t remember how to lie.

“I, um… I tried to look in the mirror,” He whispers, and his shoulders jerk when Owen laughs.

He thinks he doesn’t like the way Owen laughs. But when his hand slides through the black curls, Kauri leans into it, closes his eyes, and feels his pounding heart start to slow, to calm. Owen is safe, when he is nice. Owen is the safest thing on earth.

He’s the only safety Kauri has. 

The owner’s touch is safe, whoever they are.

“They did such a good job, didn’t they?” Owen stands, glancing at himself in the mirror - the sandy blond hair that sort of flops over his forehead, the angular shape of his face, a hint of stubble on his jaw. Kauri looks up at him wincing as the light hurts his eyes a little bit. “Shit. My mom’s coming, Kauri, and so is Karen Renford. You remember her, right?”

Kauri’s heart freezes, and blood runs like ice in his veins. “Yes, Mr. Owen.” His voice shakes, but if Owen notices, he doesn’t show it. “I remember Ms. Renford. Is she… Am I… Am I getting-”

Please, no, I don’t want to go back

Don’t make me go back there

Owen blinks and glances over his shoulder down at him, then just laughs, kindly. Kauri’s shoulders relax. “No, Kor-bore. She’s just coming to meet my mom, it’s a nice neutral place for them, I guess. I’m going to have some people over, so it’ll be like a real dinner party, too. We’ll have to lock you up for it, my mom doesn’t like the Box Boys much. Well, doesn’t like me having one anyway. Not one that looks like you.”

“Wh-what’s wrong with how I look?” He tilts his head, and Owen sighs. He doesn’t like when Kauri asks too many questions, and Kauri’s mouth snaps shut.

“Nothing’s wrong with how you look. What’s wrong is how he looks. That he still looks at all.” Owen looks in the mirror one more time, then back down at him. Then he leaves, and as Kauri pushes himself to his feet, he hears Owen laughing to himself down the hall. 

“God, they did a great job on him,” Owen says, and laughs again. “Sweet boy can’t even look at himself.” Kauri picks Keira up and carries her back to the living room, her little wheels spinning.

What job did they do to me?

What did I sign up for?