#like it’d be one thing if it were concrete or anywhere outside but an obviously indoor room?? WOOD FLOOR??? it does not look sealed.

[a-sketchy]

sorry for having an opinion on the fundamentally stupidest thing possible, scroll past now, but even given the urgency of the situation why’s yosuke’s first choice the fucking wall of a room with wallpaper and wooden floors??? theres a potted plant in the corner which is just so obviously the better choice logistically, and a funnier visual gag

[la-fille-en-aiguilles]

Señorita

Billy Russo x Female Reader

Warnings: S.M.U.T., language.

Synopsis: You finally get out of the city to spend a week in a beachside paradise - you’re entitled to a little getaway, you think, with your birthday coming up. When a handsome stranger hits on you at the bar, along with your birthday, some other things might come as well.   A/N: This was random? Came out of nowhere. Enjoy & let me know what you think x

Gif not mine

Timid waves crushed softly against the shoreline, white sand turning concrete gray at their touch. The warm breeze carried around a song you thought you recognised, but couldn’t remember from where. The beach-side bar basked in a gentle blush glow, so typical for the evenings here at Mallorca… You’d only arrived a couple of days ago, but already you couldn’t picture yourself anywhere else - just sitting here, at the bar by the turquoise sea, sipping on your Pina Colada in the shadow of the palm-branched roof. The wind brushed through your salt-stained hair from the entire day spent rolling around on the beach; mindful sun caressing your thighs, peaking from behind the slit in your deep emerald dress.

Tonight was relatively calm, you thought, twirling the straw in your cocktail absentmindedly. Ever since the English rugby team packed up their balls and other attributes and set out to sea, the place became peaceful.

You were glad. The entire point of this trip was to get out of the busy city for a while, enjoy the calm. If you wanted a testosterone-filled party for your birthday, you would have stayed in New York - Karen would throw a rave that would make Coachella look like a kindergarten gathering.

But that is exactly what drove you out of America and into this seaside paradise. If there was one thing you had trouble doing, it was working a crowd of people you barely saw in your everyday life, who only came for booze and dancing. Karen said she understood, and that the party would have been a small yet tasteful affair… you still fled.

Here’s to hoping that Karen wasn’t pissed at you for bailing, you silently prayed, throwing the straw on the bar and taking a gulp directly from the glass. Judging from the text Karen sent you earlier today, saying something about getting together for a celebratory meal when you got back to the city, you figured she wasn’t mad. She did say something about introducing her to a friend of Frank’s again, and having thrown the Karen plan for the party out of the window, you had to budge.

It’d been so long it had become a running joke between you two - Karen wanting to introduce you to that “handsome hunk”, with whom Frank had served. She was especially lyrical about his manners, his big heart and his beautiful smile.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think Karen was head over heels for the guy.

Every time Karen made plans for a Sunday brunch or Saturday night drinks at Castle’s place with the sole purpose of introducing you to the Hunk, you always found an excuse to ditch. Sometimes it was an urgency at work, sometimes it was about something funny you ate the night before… You must have been dodging these “introductory date” attempts for at least five months now - and it all looked like after this get-away vacation, you’d have to face the music.

Well, it was worth it. A week of doing nothing, reading sappy novels and drinking high-end cocktails, that was what you craved for, and if you had to pretend to be interested in some nonsense a guy was trying to charm you with for a couple of hours, it was a small price to pay. With that thought, you finished off your Pina Colada and motioned for the sunburnt brown bartender to get you another one.

“Hola señorita.”

The voice was unexpected. Low, with an agreeable trace of huskiness and with a hint of power.

“Disculpe, ¿este asiento está ocupado?”

Slightly frowning, you turned your head to the right.  

Ever since the English rugby team settled in one of the villas, the women in the hotel found themselves outnumbered. It just so happened - what a coincidence - that you turned out to be their neighbour, your villa closest to theirs. Everytime you’d walk out of your temporary home to hit the bar or the beach, you’d spot at least three young men hanging outside of their quarters, their faces illuminating the minute they saw you. You’d give them a cursory smile back - you weren’t that cruel - but everytime one of them tried to approach you, you shot him down - often with a look, rarely with a verbal warning. Ever since they left, you was relishing the feeling of tranquillity - until he decided to burst your happy little bubble.

The first thing you noticed about him is that he wasn’t Spanish, despite the lack of accent. He had beautiful dark, almost black eyes, the colour of a freshly brewed espresso, that myriad of black and chocolate tones swirling in a whirlpool of tender curiosity. They held your depreciating stare well. The sun obviously loved him - those razor-sharp cheekbones glowed bronze as he tilted his head to the side a little bit. The wind caressed his dark hair, playing with the longer strands at the top.

Something about him was so familiar. Maybe you’d seen him on the beach before? You did stay at the same hotel after all…

Not in a slightest bit confused at your lack of answer, the man smiled.

His smile held a sort of a gentle surprise in it, like a summer day in a middle of October.

It was absolutely breathtaking.

“Je suis désolée,” you finally uttered, forcing your eyes to focus on his eyes again instead of his lips. “Je ne parle pas espagnol”.

His smile grew wider, much to your surprise. Instead of getting red in the face, stammering out some random apology as you expected him to, he nodded and motioned to the chair next to you with one hand, sliding the other one across the surface of the bar.

Despite your better judgement and against your utter dislike of aimless flirting, you found herself shrugging as you accepted her second drink from the bartender.

“A whiskey on the rocks, please.”

Ah-ha. He’s from New York.

You sipped on your cocktail directly from the glass, ignoring the brand-new straw the bartender supplied you with in order to hide your smirk. As the man held two aristocratic, impossibly long fingers in the air, making his order, you took the time to study him.

He was tall, much taller than you. The plain white t-shirt that he wore betrayed the solid stomach muscles hidden under the cotton - the short sleeves strained as he gripped the back of the chair and slowly lowered himself onto it.

“Thank you,” he finally said to the bartender with a nod, gripping his glass with those downright pornographic fingers. Slightly pursuing his lips, the man turned his full attention back to you. When you arched an eyebrow at his antics, he flashed you a mischievous yet understanding look. “��a tombe bien. Je me sens plus à l’aise en parlant français”.

That cheeky bastard.

Your first reaction was that of a sincere surprise. You were pretty sure that for a second there, your eyebrows almost reached your hairline. Upon catching the satisfied glint in these already all too familiar eyes, you wanted to feel irritated at the nerve of him, at the fact that he just happened to beat you at your own game. But you didn’t.

Biting hard on your bottom lip in order not to laugh, you took your glass and sipped, hard.

“While I’d love to know how many more languages the lady speaks, I would much rather learn her name”, he dropped nonchalantly, whirling his whiskey gently, the ice cubes cluttering against the glass.

The first comeback that crossed your mind was so filthy you couldn’t possibly go with it. The second one, however, was efficient and succinct.

“Diana, here’s a lady’s name.”

With a low chuckle, he let his head drop down for a moment. When he raised his eyes to face you again, your chest felt a little too tight and a little too fragile under his poignant stare - that of amusement, want and a clean cut awe.

His eyes had told you that this was more than a drifting attraction, that he was interested in so much more than your name…

You saw it, and for some nonsensical reason, chose to believe it.

“I don’t care about names,” there was such a determination to your voice that it surprised you. It didn’t startle him, though - he caught your every word as his eyes travelled from your fluttering eyelashes to the soft curve of your lips. “When there are so many more interesting things to talk about. Don’t you agree?”

As you turned away from him and took another sip of your drink, you heard him chuckle yet again, and saw him press a hesitant finger against his lips.

This was obviously new to him. This small treacherous gesture led you to believe that maybe he wasn’t one to pick women at bars, that, just like you, he felt that thrill of surrendering to the strange sort of attraction encircling you both.

“In fact, enough talking. Let’s focus on doing.”

What was it so special about him that made you decide? It’s not like there’s been no men before him, very much willing to break through your iron-clad facade, wanting you to take a leap of faith. Some of them had the potential to make you feel good, you were aware of that. Still, you didn’t want them.

What made him so different? A certain familiarity of his voice, his features, maybe? Or maybe you should just slow down, cut down on the alcohol, drink a glass of water and go back to your villa, alone.

The way his eyes skimmed your naked shoulders, a barely there sigh leaving his half-open lips sealed the deal.

You didn’t want to slow down.

Not with him.

“Here’s to doing then”, his Adam apple bobbed as he gulped down, his eyes darkening. He raised his glass towards you - a figurative shake of hands on the deal they just made.

“Here’s to doing”, you agreed, clinking your glass to his.

His villa was located at the outskirts of the hotel beach, backed by the rocks. It was a ten-minute walk from the bar, feet in the warm sand, the star-sprangled night sky over your heads.

Despite the silence surrounding you, save for the occasional gust of breeze carrying on the sound of music from the bar you just left, you didn’t feel awkward. A soft smile ghosted over your lips as you felt his careful touch at the small of your back - those fingers sliding down to the base of your spine, feather-like. He strode forward, adapting his pace so you could keep up - you weren’t even sure he was aware of that, the change in him so spontaneous, as if it were a force of habit. Like this wasn’t the first time you walked side by side.

You would blame it on the booze, but you drank a total of two cocktails.

He only had one whiskey before they took off.

The villa he chose to stay in was slightly more spacious than yours, and provided a lot more privacy - this told you a lot about the man you were about to sleep with. He was most certainly well off, for starters. He also came here to get his share of peace and quiet, much like yourself.

Guiding you through the doors, he turned the lights on behind you, his other hand never leaving your back.

The best way to describe the interior would be neat or crisp, with a large, perfectly made bed in the center of the space, surrounded by a bar, a hanging chair, a shuttered armoire, and a desk, that could be used both as a kitchen table and a bureau. It smelled faintly of vanilla and musk, with a sea-salt aftertaste.

“Make yourself at home”, he murmured into your ear, still standing behind you, his hand gripping your hip hard for a fleeting second. When the realization of his touch had settled in, and you were finally able to react, he was already at the bar, serving himself a whiskey.

“Would you like something to drink?”

He busied himself with the bottle for a moment; then he produced another glass from behind the bar, waiting on your answer. When you didn’t speak, he turned to face you again.

You did as you were told - kicking off your shoes, you stepped onto the soft wool rug. With your back to him, you slowly made your way to his bed. One you reached it, you couldn’t resist trailing your fingertips along its surface - the sheets were creamy and silk, smooth to the touch.

You stopped short of the head of the bed, throwing a look over your shoulder. He caught your gaze, frozen in place, wetting his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue.  

“Why don’t you choose for me?” you offered, slowly lowering yourself on the bed, crossing your legs. “What do you usually serve them?”

The way his eyes narrowed at you ever so slightly almost made you smile. It looked like you’d struck a nerve.

Good.

“I wouldn’t know how to answer that question”, he said, his voice levelled, his stare unblinking. “I’ve never had an urge like that before”.

Well, fuck.

How many more times this man was going to run counter to your expectations?

And on top of everything, damn, he was good. A quick-thinker or a natural good-talker? Would you remain clear-headed for long enough to find out?

“What else would you like to know?” his voice grew huskier as he pushed the glass away from himself. He left it at the bar as he started your way, his pupils blown to hell.

“That all I’ve been thinking about ever since I saw you at the bar is how soft your breasts would feel pressed against my chest? That I’ve been hard ever since you opened that sassy mouth of yours? Or that I would have jerked off to the memory of you for weeks if you hadn’t come here with me?”

God.

The tightness that had long since made home in your chest moved lower, lower, lower, until it sank into the pit of your stomach. At his words, involuntary, your thighs clenched together, restless energy buzzing in between your legs, your toes curling.

“Stand up”.

When your eyes focused back on your surroundings, you saw him standing a couple of steps away, his strong jaw clenching as he gazed at you, his arms folded on his chest. Breath catching in your throat, you pushed off the bed. Feeling dizzy all of the sudden, you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Don’t close your eyes. Look at me, beautiful.”

Again, you did as you were told - you met his gaze head-on, and almost instantly regretted it. He was staring down at you with those black bottomless eyes, raw emotion flowing through him, filling the air around them, charging it to the brim. His hands fell down his sides now - so tense, the veins budged on his forearms.

It’s like he was pacing himself, keeping himself from touching you.

“Take off your dress,” he requested after a moment, watching you like a hawk.

Slowly, squeezing your thighs harder, harder still, you brought your hands to the spaghetti straps on your shoulders, before pushing them off completely.

The dress landed in a heap on the floor, leaving you in nothing but lacy panties - almost utterly naked under his stare.

You heard the softest groan escape his mouth as his hand snaked across his thighs and up to that bulge in his pants. When he squeezed his hand around it, his abdominal muscles flexing as he exhaled, you felt the moisture spread down your inner thighs.

With your heart pounding in your throat, you made a step towards him with your hand stretched out. Almost immediately you heard a low strangled noise, and saw the nah shining bright in his dark eyes.

“Not yet, beautiful,” he growled, taking his t-shirt off in one elegant motion. He then undid the belt on his pants, his eyes savouring every inch of your naked skin. “Play with your tits for me. With both hands.”

Your own touch burned as you carefully squeezed your nipples with your fingers. Throwing your head back, you moaned loud, unwillingly pushing your hips forward.

“That’s it, beautiful, just like that.”

His words seemed to lift some sort of barrier, as you started to tug and pull harder at the nipples, alternating the movements with firm grasps around the swell of your breasts.

You were going to come.

You were going to come and he hadn’t even touched you yet.

“Now slide one of those hands down those panties. Rub that pretty pussy. Tell me how wet you are”.

You made peace with the fact that he was a talker - but now he had surely sat out to break her. His voice washed all over your body, sending goosebumps down your spine as you slid one of your hands under the underwear.

“I’m so fucking wet”, you gasped, staring at him. “Fucking dripping”.

His moan made your thighs tremble, your fingers slowly circling around your clit. Before you let your eyes roll to the back of your head, you saw him with one of his hands hidden in his pants, slowly jerking himself off, with slow, aborted motions.

“That’s it, caress that pussy for me. But go slow - tease it”.

You nearly growled at that. You knew you were close - there was a bundle of sensation, like a ball of electricity, building inside of you - two quick flicks of your index finger, and you’d be done for.  

“Jesus, please”, you stuttered out before you could realize you were actually begging. “I’m so fucking close, please…”

You rubbed slowly over the nerves, your fingers wet and slippery. Panting, you realized his name would have come in handy just now - if he had some sort of a praise kink, you could maybe easily get the release you yearned for.

“You are so beautiful, fucking yourself like that. Wish those were my hands. Or my mouth”.

Something flared at the very end of your clit, softly spreading all over her pussy. You moaned loud and unapologetic, your fingers moving faster as you tried to chase that sensation. You needed to grasp it, to ride it out, you fucking needed it!…

“Put a finger inside, beautiful”.

You didn’t need to be told twice. Pumping fast and hard, you could feel your knees bending, your flesh begging for release.

“Come for me. Now.”

As if by command, the orgasm finally hit you - everywhere at once. It made your entire body shake as you screamed out, pussy clenching around your fingers. You barely registered you were falling down on your knees, when strong hands caught you at your hipbones, pushing you upright.

He was on you before you could come down from your high. His mouth hot and bruising against yours, you moaned, instinctively jumping onto him and wrapping your legs around his feverish body.

His scent assaulted you - a clean, musky scent made your inside muscles clench, so you wiggled against him, wanting more.

He was so painfully hard against your core, you whimpered, pushing your hips against his, needing more friction, like an addict craving for a dose.

Sensing your need, feeling you, he grabbed your ass with his large hands and stepped onto the bed, setting you down on that same wooden headboard of the bed you’d almost stroke with your fingers.

Pushing your legs apart, he settled in between them. Before you knew it, his tongue lapped at your wetness, sliding up the length of your slit. Whimpering and moaning, you arched your back, burying your fingers in his hair, tugging hard. That made him growl, adding a slight vibration as he sucked on the bundle of nerves. He slammed his fingers - those fucking fingers - into you, and it took exactly two pumps for your second orgasm to roll over you. With your eyes squeezed shut, you moaned into the ceiling with everything you had.

Helping you slide down onto the bed with his hands guiding your hips, he gave you a piercing stare. The one that made you whimper, even though your eye-side was still fuzzy at the edges.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, before he distanced himself from you - to take off his pants.

“I’m going to fuck you now - I’ll be gentle next time, right now… Right now I just need to bury myself in that pretty pussy of yours”.

“Fuck”, you moaned, propping yourself on the elbows, closing your eyes as you threw your head back. You didn’t know if you could handle more, but Jesus, did you want it. His cock stretching you wide.

You would not have been able to tell where he took a condom from - you didn’t even have time to contemplate on it. All you registered was a slight discomfort in between your legs before his huge cock pushed inside of you, inch by glorious inch. The stretch was almost too much, and you coughed out half a breath, half a moan as you tried to adjust to his size. Whatever sound you were about to let out next, as he slid out of you and pushed back in, to the hilt this time, it got lost in between your lips, as he captured your mouth in a bruising kiss.

Your nails scratched on his ripped back as he fucked into you shallowly, your teeth biting into the skin on his neck. As if not getting enough of you, he grabbed one of your thighs, flexing it, so he could thrust deeper.

The change of the angle had you swearing under your breath, and his mouth was there to silence you again, his teeth biting down on your bottom lip.

The third orgasm snuck up on you out of nowhere - there was no gradual built, no buzzing feeling in your lower stomach - it crashed on you like a bucket full of ice, having you arching your back, clenching around his cock so fiercely, it snatched an orgasm out of him, as well.

“Fuuuuuck”, he breathed out, his hips slamming sloppily into yours. “So fucking good, fucking…”

Before he could continue, you rolled forward and put your mouth on him, swallowing his words. With his palm cupping your cheek, he deepened the kiss as his cock drained itself into the latex.

The kiss grew soft, your noses touching ever so slightly as you both slowed down, a mess of tangled limbs. Smearing his wet mouth against your nipples, he pushed up from you, sliding his cock out.

“I’d take that drink now if you don’t mind”, you told him, a lazy smile illuminating your features.

A low chuckle he let out echoed in your lower stomach.

“Sure, beautiful. How does a whiskey sound?” he offered, standing up in all his naked glory.

You hummed in approval as you leaned higher against the headboard. Biting your lip, you checked out his ass unashamedly, as he made his way to the bar, throwing the used condom into the garbage bin.

“I know there are some things that we’ve agreed on, but I’d much appreciate calling you by your name instead of beautiful when going down on you next time. What do you say?”

You heard whiskey splash against the walls of your soon-to-be glass. Your inner muscles clenched at the sight of him, naked, serving you a drink.

“It’s Y/N”, you said with a small smile.

“Billy”, he responded, making his way to you. As you reached out to take your glass of whiskey from him, he pulled his hands backwards, using your position to land his lips on yours in a stinging kiss instead. You responded hungrily, grabbing his head with both of your hands.

The night was still young, after all.

“Okay, so would you rather spent your life partying with rich assholes you barely know, still seeing your family and friends, or get stuck on a desert island with no opportunity to see anyone at all?”

You turned your head ever so slightly, feeling his muscles clench as Billy huffed out a breath.

You both laid naked on his bed, him propped against the headboard, you - with your head settled comfortably on his stomach. A half empty bottle of whiskey was getting warm against your bare thigh, both of your glasses laying empty next to it.

You had lost count of the times you came with his name a word of ecstasy on your lips. You were surely going to sport some hickeys on your neck tomorrow, but you didn’t care.

You had never felt so at ease with a man before. Granted, no man had ever managed to make you come three times in a row, but that wasn’t the point. Billy made you question your “no dating” rule, and not just because he fucked like his life depended on it. He just got you - whether it was your discomfort in big crowds, fear of subway, weird addiction to macarons or love-hate relationship with Paris. You just clicked - it was hard to believe you met mere hours ago.

Or maybe the fact that you only just met was the reason why you clicked. It certainly wouldn’t be the same in the long run. The rose-goggles period only lasted so long. When routine kicked in, it tended to crash everything in its wake.

“That’s a tough one”, he said, biting on the inside of his cheeks. “If I could invite people on my desert island, I’d definitely go with the second option.”

“Well, you can’t”, you smirked at him, and then stared back into the ceiling. “It’s either being constantly surrounded, or seeing no one at all”.

He hummed, considering the options.

“I can’t imagine being alone 24/7, even though you might have guessed already, I love being alone sometimes”, his fingers slowly caressed the soft skin under your breasts, as he voiced his thoughts out loud. “It’s funny how your mind works though”, you could hear a smile in his tone now. “With you, it’s either all or nothing.”

You thought for a moment, interlacing your fingers with his. Then you shrugged:

“Sometimes, I just want to get away, you know? See no one, speak to no one… I sometimes push people away, thinking it would do me good. But it doesn’t always have that desirable effect.”

When you stole a glance at Billy again, you saw him nod.

“I know what you mean”, he spoke quietly. “And I’m glad you didn’t push me away tonight”.

“Oh, I tried,” you assured him with a smirk. “You’re hard to shake off”, you let go of his fingers and pushed yourself up on your hands, so that your eyes were on the same level.

Billy chuckled, his lips stretching in that warm and wonderful smile.

“Keep looking at me like that, and I’ll be hard. Again. Point blank.”

You laughed quietly, dropping your gaze, your eyes traveling down his stomach and to that massive cock between his legs.

He was getting hard again alright.  

“What time is it?” you suddenly remembered, snapping your gaze around, searching for a clock.

“Quarter to four, why would you ask?” he told you, after checking his wristwatch.

You closed her eyes.

“It’s my birthday”, you said before you blinked at him in surprise.

In between all that dirty sex and orgasms, you lost track of time and completely forgot. Were you coming when the clock struck midnight? The thought made you giggle.

“Really?” Billy stared at you in disbelief before his dark cocoa eyes softened, and his voice dropped an octave. “Come here”.

Warmth spread all over your body at his words, your core the center of the growing tingling sensation. Billy used his hot hands to pull you closer, help you settle in his lap, your legs on each side of his hips. With his left hand he reached for the bedside table, pulling out yet another condom out.

“Would you like to put it on?” He whispered against the skin behind your ear, making your pussy tense. Not trusting your voice, you nodded, taking the foil packet from his hand. Tearing it up with your teeth, you slid the latex onto his throbbing cock, pumping him a couple of times for a good mesure. The noises Billy made were downright pornographic. You licked your lips.

With both of your hands on his naked shoulders, you slowly lowered yourself all the way down onto him, the sensation making you both moan this time.

“Just like that, beautiful”, he whispered softly in your ear, thrusting up into you.

You rode him slowly, arching your back, leveraging yourself on his shoulders. The position was so damn intense, and not only because that way Billy could thrust deeper, up to his balls. There was a strange sort of intimacy as he gripped your hips, helping you bounce slowly on his rock-hard cock - his cocoa eyes held a sort of intensity as he fucked into you. It made your heart ache.

“I fucking can’t get enough of you”, he confessed hoarsely. “Of that tight, wet, perfect pussy. Of your beautiful, smart mouth. All of you. Every fucking inch of you.”

His revelation combined with his soft, yet methodic thrusts was what toppled you over the edge. You came hard, your body protesting against all those orgasms Billy’s cock had already wrestled out of it. Speaking of him, he wasn’t too far behind either, gripping your hips and holding you down as he came.

His lips seemed to hold some kind of a promise as he kissed you gently.

“Happy Birthday, beautiful”, he whispered against your lips, his hot and ragged breath fanning over your skin.

You managed a tired smile, surging up to kiss him again, relishing the feeling of him inside of you still….

Surprisingly, New York welcomed you back with cloudless sky. It was still as busy as you remembered it, but something had changed. People seemed friendlier, streets - sunnier, summer - hotter. You caught yourself enjoying the city again now that you had come back well-rested from your week-long vacation.

Well-rested might have been a wrong word for it. More like satisfied. And taken care of.

After that night, you spent the two remaining days of her getaway at Billy’s villa - no strings attached. You two barely left the place. Never had you enjoyed a man’s company this much. You cooked together, swam together, made love together… Until it was over and done, and you had to go back to the real life again, tiptoeing on your way out so he wouldn’t wake up.

You stopped cold for a moment, a plat of appetisers freezing in your hands.

Did you just think made love? Well that was a slip of epic proportions…

“Daydreaming about your boy-toy again?” Karen teased her with a smirk, walking into the kitchen. “He must have been quite something”.

Oh that, he was. You couldn’t help but sigh as you put the plate on the table.

How many people Karen was expecting for the dinner exactly? It looked like Frank and her had cooked enough for the entire goddamn naval infantry.

“It’s been a week,” you said, shaking your head as if trying to make the thoughts about him fall out. “I guess I need some time to turn that page”.

“Who said that page needs turning?” Karen reasoned, putting two bottles of champagne on the table. “Didn’t you say he was from New York? You could keep on seeing each other?”

You didn’t even take a moment to think it over.

“Nah,” you shook your head, tugging at your silk top. “We didn’t talk much about our respective jobs, but he made it obvious he travels a lot, so…”

Catching Karen’s sceptic stare, you threw both of your hands into the air, waving them.

“I’ll see him when I’ll see him, and if I don’t…” you shrugged. “Guess it wasn’t meant to be then”.

You turned to face Karen again only to find out that her expression hadn’t changed.

“Uh huh,” the noise she made was her other way of saying bullshit. “Well, you do what you gotta do, but please play nice with Russo. I swear he is a perfect guy for you”.

You let out a chuckle.

“You know, I heard it so many times I’m actually starting to believe it”, you said.

As if on cue, you heard men’s voices in the corridor.

“So how was your getaway, then?” Frank asked casually, stepping first into the kitchen. “Wow, that looks amazing, ladies,” he commented on the table, winking at Karen.

Page blushed in response, making you roll your eyes.

You was about to make a side comment to your best friend, when your mind suddenly went blank upon hearing the stranger’s voice.

“It was great, perfect actually…”

A designer-shoes-clad foot appeared in the room.

“I just feel like I left a part of me there, I’m going to need some time to rea…”

…djust, your mind supplied as you stared at Billy, her Billy, standing across the room from you - fully dressed this time.

“Oh my God,” you barely whispered, your eyes big in your face, your chest feeling like it was going to collapse on itself.

Billy’s lips slowly parted in the widest smile you’d ever seen - he just stood there, like a man on whom the greatest happiness had been bestowed, and it rendered him speechless.

Karen looked at them both in confusion, until…

Until realisation dawned on her, and she chortled, squeezing her eyes shut and covering her mouth.

“What’s… What’s going on?” Frank frowned, looking back and forth between Billy and you. “You guys know each other?”

“Hell yeah,” Billy finally spoke, his eyes never quitting yours as he closed the distance between you in four decisive strides.

Before you could even speak, he gripped your cheeks and dropped his lips on yours, as hot and burning as the sun back in Mallorca.

You moaned like you didn’t have a care in the world, pushing onto your toes, throwing your arms around his shoulders.

“I missed you, beautiful”, Billy uttered between the kisses, his forehead pressed to yours. “You ain’t getting away so easily this time”.

You let out a soft laugh, inhaling his scent, and moved to kiss his lips again. 

[storytellingfandom]

It Had to be You ~ Part Four

Summary: Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world she walked into hers.  Lin Beifong saw the world in two colors; black and white. That changes though when she meets the siren working with one of the largest gangs in Republic City.

Azami never had a choice. Didn’t have a way out. But she could destroy things from the inside. She could move information around. She could lie and smile with the best of them.

Neither needed anyone. Neither needed love. So what happens when fate ties them together? Can they save each other? Or will a smoking gun end something before it begins

A/N: A 1930s/40s LOK AU. Note that there will be themes that were present during this time including smoking, drinking, underlying homophobia, and potentially smut later on down the line. Writer’s views are not that of the characters.

Word count: 16331

The sun was still low in the sky, dusty pinks and soft oranges lighting it up as the sun made its lazy ascent into the sky. Azami had been awake most of the night. The crumpled piece of paper secure in the drawer by her bed, taunting her silently. With a sigh, she slipped from the warmth of her blankets, sleep wouldn’t be coming. 

Making her way to the kitchen, she lit the stove for the hot water to start coffee, she’d need it if the chief, Lin, was going to show up today. Pulling a mug out, her mind started to replay the memories from yesterday. The earnest green eyes, the stubborn determination in the sharp jaw. Spirits, didn’t she know that once a name was out in the open, she couldn’t take it back? 

But you gave her yours. 

She hadn’t been thinking that night. How could anyone when those intense eyes were on them? When she leaned against that bar so easily that she nearly blended in with the crowds around her? 

Dammit. 

Taking the sugar from the cupboard, she set it on the counter harder than she had meant to. Taking the spoon, she shoved the coffee grounds into the cup forcefully before the whistle of the kettle forced her from her thoughts. Pouring the steaming water into the mug, she used the spoon to mix the liquid until it became dark, pouring a small amount of milk and the tiniest bit of sugar into it. Once content with it, she moved to the window seat she’d set up for herself and curled up in it. Pulling the blanket around her shoulders, mug between both hands, she sipped the contents as she watched the sun continue its journey into the sky. 

                                                           ********

Lin was up with the sun as she always was. The sun is barely light enough to offer beams that would dance across the white curtains. Climbing out of bed, she opened the curtains and surveyed her city. On this side of town, there were quiet noises to indicate the city was waking. Cars running on the street, restaurants opening up, and soon she’d hear the sounds of families leaving their houses. She wondered what sort of sounds she’d hear if she’d been anywhere else. 

The chief of police had always prided herself on knowing her city. On knowing the ins and outs of it, all of the politics, all of the needs and wants. 

She’d been wrong. 

Going to that district had shown how some always stayed in the limelight, basking in their attention, while others fell completely into the shadows. How they, how she had neglected the people she’d sworn to protect. Including Azami herself. 

Dressed in an old pair of black trousers, the dark blue blouse she’d chosen hung open as she rolled the sleeves up to her elbows. The white tank top she wore underneath preserving her modesty as she made her way to her kitchen. Starting her kettle for tea, she grabbed what little she had in the way of breakfast food, and while she waited for the water to boil and her food to heat up, she thought. 

She’d gone to the markets after work, gathering blankets, food, tools, toys for the kids, anything she could think of that might bring joy to those people. Leaving them in the car, she’d hope it’d be enough. 

Nodding to herself, she started to pour the water for her tea as her mind wandered back to the last moments with Azami she had before leaving. Her standing on the creaking stairs, hand gripping the railing as dark eyes had widened in what seemed like fear, a nervous underlying fear.

“Names have power, Lin. You sure you trust me with it?”

Did she trust her? She knew that there was something that Azami wasn’t telling her. That under the flirtations and the caretaker for her neighborhood, something brewed. She didn’t know what, but she hoped that she’d find out. Something in her wanted to trust the club singer. 

Maybe it was the voice that always sucked her in, or the dark eyes that could burn her alive, or study her with such a depth that it threatened to swallow her. The way she cared about others, protected them. 

And this is why she didn’t fuck with emotions. 

Besides, while Lin had had a few brief encounters with women, they weren’t what she was ultimately attracted to, right? 

Fuck. 

She just cared about her because she was one of the citizens in her city. Someone who needed help but was obviously scared to come forward. It didn’t mean anything. The damn butterflies in her stomach, the sweaty palms, all of it was just coincidence. 

Shit. 

Groaning, Lin shoved her plate into the sink once she finished eating. Work. Staying busy. That would help this. Grabbing her jacket from its hook, she slammed her feet into boots and reached for the dark green scarf. 

                                                  *********

As Lin drove up the road, she’d watched people quietly set up their stalls for the day, watched children running around in rags, taking food from those that had it to spare. Pops went off somewhere down the road, fingers reaching for the sidearm she kept in the console of her car. When it settled, her nerves eased slightly as she parked her car outside of Azami’s apartment building. 

Looking up, she saw the woman in the window. She had what appeared to be a soft blanket around her shoulders, a plaid in earth colors of greens and rich browns. Dark hair sat disheveled around her shoulders, and a mug between her hands. Lin was frozen as she watched her in that moment, seeing just the woman and not the facades she put up. 

Forcing herself to look away, she walked up the concrete steps into the building. Walking to the desk, the woman behind it went wide eyed looking at her. 

“Chief Beifong!”

“I need to know Azami’s apartment number, please.” Lin announced, hip jutting out just slightly. 

“Of course, she’s in apartment 409.”

Nodding her thanks, Lin made for the stairs and quickly went to find the apartment. 

                                                       ********

When the knock on her door came, Azami frowned and pulled her blanket closer to her form. Walking over to it, she raised a brow when the door opened and revealed Lin. 

“Bit early there, don’t you think chief?” Azami asked, cocking her head. 

“We have a lot of work to do.” Lin answered, her shoulders shrugging as she stepped inside once Azami stepped to the side.

“And if you think we’re going to June and Tapeesa’s just yet, you’re insane. The mornings are for them.” Azami answered, moving to curl up in a chair. “Now quit looking like I’m about to bite you and have a seat.” 

Scowling, Lin pulled her jacket off, laying it across the back of one of the kitchen chairs before moving to join her to sit in the living area. Taking in the apartment, she eyed the books on the shelves, plants littering throughout, and small trinkets hung on the wall and filled shelf space. Clues to who the woman was outside of what she was shown. 

“What do you think they’ll have us doing today?” Lin asked, taking a seat. 

“We’ll find out. Probably a little bit of everything, we’ll set something up there when the time comes.” Azami answered as she finished her coffee. “Have you had breakfast yet? I was just going to make something.” 

“If moderately warm leftovers count.”

“They don’t. Come on then, you can chop the vegetables.” Azami announced, dropping the blanket to reveal the cotton leggings and oversized buttoned silk shirt. 

Lin paused, gripping the back of a chair lest she make a fool of herself when she tried walking again. The soft curves of the other woman called and tempted as she walked. Her hands itching to run over the dip of her waist and rest on her hips. Shaking her head, she followed her into the kitchen and took the offered knife. 

Frowning at the blade, Lin gently touched her finger to it. “It’s dull.” 

“Well, not all of us can afford to take them to get sharpened. There’s a stone in the drawer that is better than nothing for sharpening it though.” Azami answered, pulling out pots and pans. 

Rolling her eyes, Lin grabbed the stone and worked to sharpen the knife until it was passable. Turning to the vegetables, she chopped them with alarming proficiency as Azami began to beat eggs to pour into the warm pan. 

The two worked in comfortable silence, Lin adding vegetables to the pan as Azami mixed them in with the eggs. Lin’s light green eyes kept an eye on the rice as it cooked, making sure it didn’t burn in the pot.

“Where are your plates?” Lin asked, pushing away from the counter. 

“Cupboard just to your right.” Azami answered, reaching to turn the heat of the stove off. 

Taking the offered plate from Lin, she served the food for her before handing it off to her. Getting her own, she stopped by the ice box to pull out the pitcher full of mango juice. Setting her plate down, she went back for glasses and sat them down before taking her seat across from Lin. 

“You know, I think you missed your calling.” Lin mentioned as she ate her food. “Should have jumped in as a chef.” 

“But then I wouldn’t be able to make you blush when you hear me sing.” Azami pointed out, a smirk pulling at the corners of her lips. 

Lin’s ears burned red and it slowly crept down her neck in response. “I don’t blush.”

“Sure you don’t, chief.” Azami teased, reaching to sip her juice. 

When their breakfast had been consumed, Lin insisted on helping with the dishes before Azami left the room to dress for the day. Lin took advantage and began to wander around the living space. Books on music, history, your general fiction, and even a few mysteries were strewn about on the shelves. Some spines were worn and more well loved than others, but all of them still in great condition. Small plants sat in open spots on the shelves, greenery and even some small flowers. Herbs that she probably used in cooking sat in the window sill of some of the other windows. Small nightingale figures sat on one shelf,  pearls that had seen better days, and small scented candles. Jasmine, lavender, and rose. Seemed about right. 

Hearing her footsteps, Lin stepped away and moved to the center of the room again. Azami reappeared in a pair of dark, forest green linen trousers that sat high on her waist with a tie around them to hold them in place. The cream blouse she wore seemed to bring out the dark green of her eyes, the three buttons that remained undone did nothing for Lin’s already high blood pressure either. Her hair was left down for once, sitting in soft, tempting, waves over her shoulders.

“Ready to go?” Azami asked, moving to slip into ankle boots. 

“Yeah.” Lin answered, slipping back into her coat. 

Grabbing her own jacket, Azami led the way out of her apartment, locking the door securely behind her. 

                                                         ********

With the help of  some of the stall owners from outside, they’d managed to get all of the supplies from Lin’s car into June and Tapeesa’s apartment. Before they’d open it up to the neighborhood though, Lin grabbed her tools and followed June to some of the windows she’d noticed needed to be sealed again. 

“You two seem awfully chummy with each other.” Tapeesa pointed out as she organized the blankets Lin had brought. 

“We’re working towards a common goal today.” Azami shrugged as she worked on organizing boxes of food and other supplies for people. 

“Which also includes having her in your apartment this morning.” 

“How did you..?! Kazue.” Azami sighed, the front desk woman must have mentioned it to them. “It’s not like anything you think. We had breakfast, that’s it.” 

“I didn’t say anything! It’s just nice to see you connecting with someone, that’s all.” Tapeesa said, her hands coming up in a sign of surrender. 

Rolling her eyes, Azami shook her head and took some of the bundled blankets from her. Her eyes moved over to watch Lin and June who appeared to be talking about the latest in the city’s improvements and the different sports teams. Cut from the same cloth, Tapeesa had pointed out. Lin shooed June away when she noticed the limp and started to work on their furnace. 

Grabbing a glass, Azami filled it with water. Bending next to Lin, she handed it to her instead of the tool she’d been working for. 

“Huh? Oh, thanks.” Lin said, drinking the water before dabbing at the sweat on her forehead. “This thing is a piece of junk, but hopefully these parts will hold it together a while longer.” 

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.” Azami answered, watching June go to her wife to press lips to her forehead. Tapeesa smiled up at the other, wrapping her arm around June’s waist. “We’re about ready to let people come up for their crates, you ready?” 

Nodding, Lin finished her water and gathered her tools “Let me wash my hands, I’ve got oil and spirits know how many cobwebs on my hands. Don’t they ever dust?”

“Pretty sure it’s against both of their religions. Just don’t look behind any of the bookcases or pictures.” Azami answered heading back to join the older women. 

                                                        *********

Lin shouldn’t have been surprised by the number of people that came through the door, but she was. People of all ages coming forward in hopes there would be a crate for them full of food, blankets, and small creature comforts. Something as simple as soap brought them joy that Lin didn’t see often. When she’d hand off a crate, they’d smile. Some would shake her hand, and some of the more desperate even hugged her. 

The ones that broke her heart though were the kids that came in. She was glad now she’d taken the time to buy extra coats so that they could be wrapped in them. One small child in particular seemed to catch her attention. Kneeling down, Lin helped her into the coat she’d grabbed. It was a little big, but it’d allow for her to grow into it. Smiling at the frightened child, she reached for a stuffed bear to hand to her. 

“Something tells me, this little guy wants to go home with you so you can be friends.” Lin said, her voice dropping and rounding out so as not to scare the child. 

The young girl’s eyes lit up as she took the bear and stared at Lin in awe. “Is it true you beat up the bad guys?” 

Chuckling, Lin nodded. “I do help with that, yes.” 

“I’m gonna be just like you when I get big!” 

“Sayuri, what do you say?” The girl’s mother asked, arms filled with the crate from Azami. 

Blinking the girl turned back to the chief and beamed. Small arms went around the woman who awkwardly hugged her bag before a small kiss was dropped on the scars on Lin’s cheek. 

“Thank you Chief Beifong.” 

Watching the girl skip away with her new friend in tow, Lin reached up to touch her cheek. It was so small, what she’d done, and yet the little girl had been so happy. Wanted to do something good in the world. 

Azami saw the exchange and smiled gently. Lin looked like she was in shock between the girl’s words and the hug. This side of Lin was something that the rest of Republic City wasn’t privy to, and she was sure she wasn’t supposed to see it either. Walking over to her, she placed a hand to the chief’s back, noting the muscles hidden under the linen shirt. 

“You’ll be a hero around these parts for a while.” Azami said, offering Lin a smile when she looked over. 

“But I-- I didn’t do it for that. These are people I’m supposed to protect and I failed. I just wanted to help them.” Lin answered looking over at the other woman. 

“You are, Lin. More than you know.” Azami answered before she pulled her hand away again.

Both noticed the lack of warmth as she did so, but neither said anything about it. Instead, they finished handing out the last of the supplies to those who needed them and then collapsed at the kitchen table in a heap. 

Tapeesa joined them a moment later, a bottle of wine between them and four glasses. “Chief, would you do the honors?” 

Nodding, Lin reached for the bottle and passed around the glasses. Glasses came up and a clear “Ting” rang through the room as they clanged together. 

“You did good today girls. People are gonna talk about this for months to come.” June said, sitting back in her chair. 

“What’s important is that people have things they need for a little while.” Azami answered, sipping her wine. 

“There’s one more thing.” Lin announced, pulling a map out. “Mark where you’ve seen the crooked cops. I’ve got eyes looking into this.” 

Taking the pen, June leaned forward and circled some area, marking x’s with others. “Circles are where they patrol, x there shows where they meet up with whoever buys them off. Got my own people looking at this. Crooked cops are called benders, they bend their spine for a couple of Yuans, see?”

Nodding, Lin folded her map back up and shoved it back into her pocket. “I’ll look into it.”

Wine finished, Lin noticed that it had gotten dark and she gently reached out to touch Azami’s arm. “Let me walk you home. You don’t need to be out in the dark by yourself.” 

Azami wanted to point out she was fine, but found herself nodding instead. The tone of Lin’s voice, and the gentle touch of her hand staying any witty comebacks. Hugging the two older women, she smiled when they did the same to Lin.

“You’re welcome here anytime you’re in the neighborhood, chief.” June announced, patting her back. 

“We do hope you’ll come, even without that one. I make a mean noodle stew that I just know you’d like.” Tapeesa said, trying to get her wife to sit. 

“I will. You two take care, if you need anything,” Lin dug into her pockets and handed them her card. “Call that number. It’ll put you directly through to my desk.”

Tapeesa took the card and hugged Lin close. “Bless you, child. Now off with both of you.” 

Azami had watched the exchange quietly, her heart softening at it. A small smile played on her lips as she waved goodbye, ignoring teasing comments to behave as she shut the door behind them. Stepping out into the cool night air, she was about to ask Lin if she was hungry when she saw her hurrying towards the corner. The mother and her sick infant were there, wrapped in one of the blankets from today. She couldn’t hear the exchange, but saw Lin hand over a bottle of what she assumed was medicine and a piece of paper. It must have been something to help because the woman let out a cry before hugging Lin briefly and turned to start tending to her infant child. 

When Lin came back over to her, she smiled her apology. “Sorry...I couldn’t get them out of my head yesterday. Call in a favor with a friend who’s a doctor. She got me some medicine and told me to get them her information so that she could look over the baby. See what she could do for them.” 

“You, Lin Beifong, are one in a million.” Azami smiled and took the arm Lin offered her to walk with. 

Stopping at a stand, they both ordered some spicy noodles that they ate while standing in conversation with the vendor. Laughing between bites and terrible jokes, commenting on the state of the market and chatting about the latest big single on the radio. Once the two of them finished, they waved to the man before making it back to the apartment building. 

Azami pulled her arm free from Lin’s, already missing the warmth the other offered her as she stood on one of the steps. “Today was a lot of fun, Lin. What you did today meant a lot to all these people, including me.” 

A smile tugged at Lin’s lips and she nodded. “I enjoyed it too. You’re back at the club tomorrow aren’t you?” 

The cold ice water of reality splashed over her at that, the piece of crumpled paper that she’d forgotten about came flashing across her mind. “I am, you going to be there?” 

“Was thinking I might.” Lin answered, folding her arms to keep herself from reaching out to touch her hands. “Thought I might buy you dinner if you get out of there early enough.” 

Azami felt her heart stop. No, this wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to care about this woman. She was a job. Nothing more. And yet, she knew that Takao would want her to take her up on the offer, and maybe that was why she should deny it.

But her heart wanted her to say yes. Wanted to let this woman in. Let her help her. 

In the long run, she’d keep Lin safer if she said no.

In the long run, she’d lose her if she turned back now. 

“I’d like that.” Azami answered, a small smile tugging on her lips. Stepping forward, she leaned over and pressed her lips to the corner of Lin’s mouth. Pulling away, she smiled and winked at the woman. “Sweet dreams, chief.” 

Her decision still had not been made.

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 62)

Plans

Sorry for the delay but better late than never! This is a pretty long chapter so hopefully that makes up for it. Warning for use and mention of alcohol abuse. 

Tagging @emily-strange and @actuallyhansolo ❤

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

The night it all fell to shit was a weird one. It was like we were hanging in some kind of dysfunctional family limbo. Dutch left the tent where Micah was still fighting to stay alive against all the odds, and he glared at our little group of black sheep from across the camp. We'd grown in numbers, though, even if we weren't all sitting together in a posse, people were with us in spirit. Kieran and Mary-Beth had come over to see how Arthur was doing, and to make it very clear that they were firmly with us; they didn't trust Micah, never had and never would. They couldn't comprehend how Dutch was acting the way he was. 

Lenny showed his support not through words, but by silently stopping by and patting Arthur on the shoulder, nodding at him once. Karen was blind drunk but she yelled at Dutch's closed tent, chanting the words 'snake' and 'die' before Bill dragged her away and deposited her on her bed roll. In fact, Bill and Javier looked like they were the only ones who had outright sided with Dutch, and I wasn't sure if they actually believed that Arthur and the rest of us were traitors, or if they were just siding with him out of blind loyalty. Javier kept looking over at us, something like regret and confusion in his eyes but whatever he was feeling obviously wasn't strong enough to have him leave Dutch's side. Bill, though… Bill was just full of contempt and whatever he believed, it certainly wasn't any conclusion he'd drawn himself. 

Everyone else was just tiptoeing around, not seeming to firmly align themselves with anyone. These were the people who openly sympathised with Arthur and made it clear they didn't believe that any of us were the rat, but also joined Dutch at the table outside his tent where he was smoking a cigar – looking dark and pensive, miles away and stewing within a thick black cloud – to offer him similar words of comfort. The likes of Reverend Swanson, Pearson and Tilly. Even Miss Grimshaw, who seemed a little conflicted about the time she poured into nursing Micah, she didn't condemn either side. She just marched around with a perpetual sad frown, reeling at the way the family she'd tried so hard to keep moving crumbled around her. 

I felt terrible. But it could all have been avoided if Dutch hadn't been so twisted by Micah. If he'd just listened to the people that mattered the most, his 'sons'. But it seemed he'd picked his side. Though I did wonder what would happen if… or when Micah succumbed to his injury. 

"I think we should go," Arthur murmured to me quietly, as he pushed his stew around his plate. It was odd eating dinner at such a time, but there was still plenty of stew left in Pearson's pot and nobody wanted to let his hard work go to waste. Limbo. A weird feeling of normality caked in tension. Like when a marriage is breaking down but both parties are still trying to plod along, going through the motions. 

I looked up at him immediately from where I sat on the bed next to him. "Now?"

Arthur met my eyes. "Well, there's nothing left here," he said. I pondered his words. It was funny. For weeks and weeks I'd longed to hear him say that, to get a concrete agreement that we were to leave and get away together. But now that it was served to me on a platter, I felt so odd.

"You don't want to see if Micah pulls through?" I questioned. 

"I… I'm with Charles. I don't think he'll pull through," he breathed, looking back down at the plate.

"No, but," I began, not knowing where I was going. 

"You don't want to leave?" His question wasn't judgemental or annoyed. 

"Yes, I do. This just feels so surreal. So sudden. It almost feels like it'd be wrong to just pack up and leave after this has happened, like we should stay and try and sort it out somehow. Though I don't know how…"

"I know what you mean. But I'm worried about you, Micah pulled a gun on you. And I don't know what's in any of these fools' heads, there's no telling if someone's gonna try and do the same thing. And I don't know if I want to stick around and save anything that almost took you away from me, or condoned it."

I paused for a while, then finally nodded.

"Just eat up," he whispered, nodding back at me with a brooding look in his eye. "We'll start packing–"

His head jerked as something caught his eye. I followed his gaze and spotted Dutch getting up. My heart thumped painfully when for a moment I thought he was going to come over, but instead made a beeline for the horses, not looking anywhere but ahead. Without saying a word to anyone, he climbed up onto his Arabian and left. Just left. Everyone stared off in surprise, not really knowing what to say about it.

"Where's he going?" I breathed.

"I have no idea," he mused. 

"Should… should we go after him, try and talk?" I asked, meeting Arthur's eyes. He looked into mine for a while and I could see him thinking, coming to some sort of silent conclusion that made his expression sour before shaking his head sharply. 

"I don't think I wanna talk," he told me bluntly and I couldn't help but be shocked. 

"You don't even want to try? Not that I think you have an obligation to," I said softly and Arthur shrugged his shoulders with an attitude I'd never seen in him before then.

"I'm done. And I mean it. I had plenty of doubts about him before this, and now I just can't see a way of fixing things. He took Micah's word over mine. He treated you like the root cause of all our problems and he couldn't care less that Micah almost shot you," he ranted, getting progressively more pissed off. 

I looked away and thought very hard about what to say next. I was sorely tempted to say fuck it, and agree to run away with him right then and there. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. Not leaving the likes of Mary-Beth, Lenny, Abigail and Jack all here to suffer the consequences of whatever Dutch planned. Some people had made their mind up, but others… It was clear to me that they saw security in Dutch that they didn't have elsewhere. They were stuck.

"What if we ask around, and leave as a group with whoever wants to come?" I suggested. It wasn't the first time I'd said something like it, but this time felt different, like it was actually reasonable. That it actually might work. 

"And then what?" He asked me. 

"We'd take our things and go, find somewhere else to camp for a while, and then figure things out when we're not sitting in a camp full of people who might just want us dead," I said bluntly. His lips parted, his eyes bored into mine. The stare he gave was intense, and made me feel as though this was a turning point, a moment with huge gravitas and consequence. 

"I think… I think that'd be our best option," he quietly agreed. "But what will we do about money, Dutch has–" he stopped, remembering something, eyes casting across the camp, settling on the Marstons’ tent. "Hold on a second." 

Arthur got up, depositing his plate on the table by his bed before crossing over towards the tent. He called out for Abigail and John, and was ushered inside. I sat and waited, frowning to myself just slightly, pondering his sudden actions. 

Javier strolled past my eyeline, between Arthur's tent and the Marstons’. Without giving it much thought, I called to him. He paused, casting his gaze to me almost in surprise. He stood there for a few seconds, cigarette hanging from between his fingers, a dusting of ash floating down as the stub burnt away with his inaction. He looked at me expectantly, though he moved no closer. 

"Javier," I sighed sadly, shaking my head, "surely you don't trust a word Micah says. How could you? You know exactly what he's like–-"

"I don't," he told me bluntly. "I think he's full of crap," he shrugged his shoulders.

"So why are you acting like Arthur and John and the rest of us are the villains?"

"I… I don't… think that," he stammered, losing some of his conviction, speaking very hesitantly. "This situation, muñequita… this is messed up. But all I know is that you guys aren't being loyal to Dutch. And that matters to me."

"Why Dutch? Why should we be blind-loyal to Dutch when he doesn't care about us?" I frowned deeply, aggravated by his expectancy. 

"He cares. Dutch always cares."

"He's pouring all our resources into saving a man who was about to shoot me in the face. He doesn't give a rat's ass about me, or Arthur. Because if I was killed in this camp, you know it would destroy him, the guilt he would feel–" I shook my head abruptly. "Dutch has never liked me. And that's fine, I don't care, but Arthur and I– we love each other. We're in this for the long haul. But Dutch doesn't want to see Arthur happy."

"He doesn't wanna lose Arthur to you. And that's exactly what's happened; Arthur wants to leave this gang to be with you, and you think Dutch should be perfectly happy about that?"

"If he saw Arthur as a son rather than a well trained gun, an asset to his criminal gang, then yes. He should be perfectly happy about him wanting to get out of this dangerous world and settle down," I answered bluntly, shrugging my shoulders and looking at him like I couldn't for a moment understand why he didn't see it.

"Criminal gang? That's the way you see us all?" He cocked his brow, finally taking a number of steps towards me. 

"Not at the start. At the start you were all so hopeful and free. Now you're a bunch of penned in animals, lashing out and doing anything and everything to survive with no thought to anyone but yourselves. And this ain't an insult, though you'll surely take it as such. This is what Dutch's decision-making has done," I answered, keeping my eyes on his and not backing down. Javier was good. I knew he was. He was just being led into the fire by a smooth-talking egoist. 

Javier was quiet for some time, twitching a little, his jaw clenched tight. He did not want to listen. 

"Dutch saved me. He gave me hope when I had nothing, put food in my belly, shelter over my head, safety. Without him, I would not be the man I am today. I may not even be alive," he shrugged cluelessly, "and you want me to abandon him?"

"I don't want you to do anything," I sighed, finally breaking eye contact. "This is your decision to make."

"Listen, I–" he began, voice softening. "I always liked you. When Micah told us today about you and the Pinkertons, sure, I had my doubts about you. Now, I… I don't believe you're working against us. You have no motive, especially since you and Arthur…" he trailed off, sighing. 

I looked up at him again, waiting for him to make his point, though he took his time.

"But I cannot betray Dutch. I can't leave him, not now, not when he is the reason we're all still alive."

I almost told him that he was also the reason why we had to run so fast, always pushing his luck, killing Cornwall, Bronte, robbing banks in huge cities, inserting himself into a fight that wasn't ours with Eagle Flies and making things worse for them. Pissing people off left and right and acting as the ringmaster for the world's deadliest circus. 

“Where did Dutch go, anyway?” I asked, instead.

“Said he needed to clear his head. He’s really hurt, you know,” he told me and I was so close to rolling my eyes.

"He had his chance to listen to us but–” I began, then trailed off, “what's the use? I can't change your mind, Javier. I just hope things turn out right for you," I sighed. 

His lips parted, but he didn't know what to say. Eventually, he dropped his wasted cigarette and then carried on walking.

Arthur came out of the Marstons’ tent just a moment later, an edgy, agitated but somehow hopeful look about him. He came to me, immediately beginning to gather his things from around the tent, putting them away in his chest. I watched him with a confused frown, lips hanging open, about to ask him what was happening when he told me anyway. 

"We're going. Us, with those three," he told me very quietly, but in a rushed, urgent tone of voice. 

"Now?" I got up abruptly. 

"Yes. We gotta move while… while Dutch's gone. It'll be easier," he told me, "maybe some folk'll come with us. Would you do me a favour, princess?"

"Of course, anything," I blinked at him, stunned. 

"While I'm packing up, you go out there and you… you talk to anyone who's on our side, okay? You see if they want out. And you tell 'em to pack up."

"Wait, how is this gonna work?" 

"Abigail–" he began, realising he was at full volume before dialling it down, "Abigail knows where all our money is. She's got a key, she stole it while everyone was distracted, when Micah was telling his pack of lies about you. She felt like things was gonna blow up, and she was right. We got a key to all the money, every penny we been putting away for safekeeping," he rose up and closed the space between us. He cupped my face, his eyes were bright and alive, truly, for the first time I'd seen in a while. 

"So, what, are we gonna take it?" I balked in a hiss of a whisper. 

"No, not… not all of it. But we'll take our share," he told me, then pressed his lips to mine briefly, but firmly, "we deserve some of that money, it's ours. It's ours, John's, Charles'..." He trailed off, he sounded like he was trying to reassure himself more than me.

"Damn right we deserve it," I encouraged, nodding my head, "hell, I bet you put most of it in there."

"We're just gonna take enough for us, just what's fair. We ain't gonna screw the rest of 'em over. We… we…" he stammered, his eyes dropping to my mouth. I could see the light dim from his eyes and I could feel the guilt he was experiencing like it was seeping from his pores.

"Arthur, it's okay. What we're doing is okay," I whispered to him, wrapping my arms around him and hugging him tight, "Dutch ain't left us many options. It's clear his mind's made up and he don't deserve a moment more of your time. Taking a little money from the communal pot… that's the least you deserve. All them years; he's lucky this is all you're doing."

"What if he comes after us?"

"Then I'll kill the bastard myself," I said through clenched teeth. "He ain't ruining another moment. This is a good thing, baby, this is… this is the moment. The right time, what we've been waiting for."

"You're right," he breathed, turning his head towards my hair and inhaling my scent. 

"Come on. Keep packing, I'll go speak to the others," I said. 

"Abigail's gonna sneak in and get the money. She knows where it is, it's in that cave," he told me so quietly that even I struggled to hear. I pulled away from his embrace and nodded. I kissed him once more, then exited the tent. 

I scanned the whole camp, my eyes landing on Charles where he was on guard duty. It seemed so strange, again, that the menial jobs people did day to day were still being carried out. I guessed that people were just trying to cling on to normality. I sped over to him first, catching his attention when I was a few places away, he turned to look at me and grew tense at the urgency in my gait. 

"Charles," I breathed, reaching him and touching his arm, glancing around once before continuing, "Arthur and I; we're getting out of here. The Marston's too. I ain't asking you to pick a side, I will never judge you for your decision, but–"

"Of course I'll come. You needn't ask," he told me in his no nonsense tone, tilting his head up slightly in a small display of pride and loyalty. A smile broke across my face. 

"Well then," I breathed with a laugh, "I suggest you gather your things. We ain't lingering."

"Of course," he nodded.

"And will you tell Sadie? Give her the same option to get out of here? Anyone who you think might wanna come," I requested and he nodded again.

"So this is really happening? We're splitting the gang?" 

"What gang?" I grunted, turning and looking at the tattered ashes of what was left. Charles said nothing, but I knew that he saw it too. He patted my shoulder twice, and then headed off. 

Of the gang members left, there were few I wanted to ask. Some were far too loyal to Dutch; obviously the likes of Javier and Bill, others I just weren't close to. I never spoke to Strauss or Reverend Swanson; even Uncle, I didn't know any of them well enough to entertain the idea of asking. I figured Arthur would ask those sorts of people if he felt it was the right thing to do. It interested me to see that some people were already packing, though I knew they hadn't been asked yet. I assumed it was a case of fleeing the sinking ship. Pearson was one of those people, Trelawny – a man who seemed to come and go like the rain – was another. Mary-Beth was too, though she was doing it kind of slowly and subtly as if she didn't want people to notice that was what she was doing. Kieran helped her. 

I made my way over to the girls' wagon, where Karen slept, Tilly woefully held her head in her hands, and Mary-Beth quietly folded away clothes and trinkets into a case around the side.

"Ladies, may I… could I speak with you?" I asked, watching as Karen groggily lifted her head, and Tilly looked up. Mary-Beth hummed her acknowledgement but didn't stop what she was doing. 

"Arthur and I think it's best we move along, given the circumstances," I began softly, timidly. Tilly gave a humourless laugh. 

"You think?" She queried. It wasn't mean-spirited. It was just tired and sad and disappointed. She was taking it hard. 

"And we figured we'd ask folk if they wanna come too. The Marstons think it's a good idea too. I don't want this to seem like I'm asking y'all to pick a side, but I want to give you an option for if… if you don't wanna stay here no more. You ain't stuck," I continued, meeting Mary-Beth's eyes. Her lips parted and she was stunned, hesitant.

Karen grunted and slumped back down on her bedroll, ignoring the suggestion for the most part. I looked at Tilly. She stared off distantly, her mouth slightly pursed. I waited for her to say something, half expecting some anger or upset similar to that of Javier's, I thought she was just as loyal to Dutch as he was.

"I'm not going with you. But I ain't sticking around here neither," she told me, striking me full of surprise. "Things just went too far today, people pointing guns at each other, accusing everyone of everything, this ain't no place for nobody. Listen, I'm glad you have a way out of here. And I'm glad that that little boy does too," she pushed herself to her feet and pointed in the direction of the Marstons' tent. "But I… I don't think I want any part of this no more."

I nodded slowly. "I understand. Tilly, all I want is for people to do the right thing for themselves. And I want them to be safe. If you think leaving all of this behind is the right thing for you, then I'm fully behind you. You've been kind to me, just like everybody else. I appreciate the time I've known you," I told her carefully. She fidgeted a little on her feet, but nodded. 

"Thank you, I– I wish nothin' but the best for you and Arthur," she told me, then with a final nod she disappeared around the wagon. I presumed she was gathering her things. 

"I knew it," Karen slurred, her cheek pressed into the ground. "I knew she was outta here. Jus' like you, and jus' like Mary-Beth," she added. I couldn't help but frown a little, and Mary-Beth met my eyes, but Karen chuckled drunkenly. "I don't blame a single one of you. Get out before this thing kills you." 

"What'll you do, Karen?" I asked, sitting down beside her. She lifted herself up, propped up on her elbows. 

"Me? Don't worry 'bout me. I got places I can go," she told me, a dizzy smile on her face. She didn't seem to be bogged down by the gravity of the situation. The booze was to thank for that, of course. 

"Like where?"

"I don' know. Places. I'll be fine." 

"I'm worried about you," I admitted, remembering how my mother got when she drank too much. The scene before me looked too familiar for comfort.

"Y'all keep saying that. Stop it. Let me live my life," she muttered. I knew from experience there was no reasoning with a person in this state. No way to make them realise their self destruction. 

"You're welcome to come with us, Karen, if you wanna get out of here," I assured her, patting her shoulder.

"I'm with Tilly," she muttered, "this whole thing's a mess and you can run off as a group but you'll fall apart too. Ain't nothing you can do. Nothin' ever lasts," she cried out bitterly, her face screwed up in a wince that was full of anger and pain and I thought of Sean. I thought of the fact that she was clearly close to him and I thought of how things began to fall apart along with his death. I was choked up. I cleared my throat and brushed a loose ringlet from Karen's face and she peered up at me like she didn't know how to respond. 

"I'm so sorry, Karen," I whispered. 

"For what, what'chu done?" She asked. I simply shook my head. 

"I'm sorry that things have fallen apart," I added.

"Can't be helped," she sighed, reaching up and squeezing my hand. I was never particularly close to Karen, so the act warmed my heart. 

"Um, may I speak with you?" Mary-Beth squeaked like a mouse above us, gingerly edging towards me and looking at me with concerned, arched brows. 

"Of course," I nodded, then rose to my feet after giving Karen's hand a squeeze back. I followed Mary-Beth away from listening ears until she turned around and stood before me, fiddling with her fingers. 

"I'm so sorry, but I can't come with you," she blurted out, and I already began to shake my head, holding my hands out reassuringly, but she continued anyway, "you know Kieran and I? We– I promised him–"

"Mary-Beth, it's okay. I ain't asking anyone in a bid to make 'em feel like they gotta. You have your own plans. I'm glad," I smiled at her. 

"You sure? It's not that I don't trust you and Arthur and the others to keep everyone safe, it's just…" she trailed off and sighed, looking across the camp to where Kieran was. I put my hand on her shoulder.

"I know. You go and be with him. I know how you're feeling; take your chance to get away and build your life together while you still can," I told her, then opened my arms and let her decide if she wanted to hug me. She did. She closed the gap between us and squeezed me tight, rubbing my shoulders. 

I felt like I wanted to cry. Why did this feel like a goodbye? More than just a goodbye for now, but a permanent one? I swallowed back the sudden wave of emotion I felt and patted her back a couple times before we parted. She offered me a small smile and took my hands in hers. 

"I hope you build the prettiest of lives. We all deserve a little happiness, don't you think?" She told me quietly, and I nodded in agreement. 

"Yeah, I think we do," I whispered. She squeezed my hands, then headed back towards the wagon to continue her packing. 

I exhaled and turned around to look at the state the camp was left in. It was full of people packing up; a scene that wasn't by any means new or different, it'd happened time and time again already. But the fact that people were packing for themselves this time… there was no sense of community, or togetherness. It felt like an ending. A dissolving of a family that once was so strong; it was heartbreaking, but somehow inevitable. Once there was differing ideas and loyalties pulled in different directions, things would change. And they changed in the most destructive of ways; with Micah laying shivering and sweating and close to death, with Dutch running off alone and abandoning the camp for the first time ever, with the majority of people deciding that it was too late to salvage anything. Deterioration until there was nothing but a scattered collection of parts left to make the best of things. 

All because of Micah Bell.

[isolaradiale]

With the autumn season well settled in by now, the local fauna was already getting ready for the harsher, colder days up ahead. If one was particularly interested in nature, they might notice the creatures around them making preparations…and when they started to stop. In the days leading up, something had been putting the animals on edge, a subtle difference at first, but still there if you cared to see it.

Those who have lived here all their lives noticed first; they knew their island better than any outsider, after all. They, too, became more closed off and tight lipped, not unfriendly but curt, as if mentioning the change would invite some grave consequence—something akin to paranoia.

And then suddenly it was difficult to spot a roaming animal at all. The squirrels did not run, the deer did not frolick, the bees stayed in their hives. Even the notoriously loud Boombirds were eerily silent, perched at the tops of the tallest trees. The wind settled, and an ominous silence blanketed the city.

It would stay like this for several hours until the first time the unique ward animals gave off sudden warning sounds. The boombirds and radiocats sounded out with warbled, glitchy tones instead of music, netpup screens showed only static, and faxfoxes printed out reams of blacked out, redacted text. People looked to them, curious and afraid. When they looked back, they weren’t in Spirale anymore...not as it was.

What they saw now was a ruined city from any number of possible and terrible futures. Crumbling buildings, streets covered in ash, or nature having overgrown all that was unnatural. But no two people saw the same ruin; each person had their own personal interpretation of what the city could look like after an unknown disaster. However, each city held similar monsters.

They looked like television static given form and cast under a shadow, their outlines shifting and inconsistent and their bodies seemingly without any depth to them. From their silhouettes, some looked human. Others looked like quadrupedal dogs, or birds, or even giant mammoths lumbering through the streets.

Some people ran. Others stood still and looked around, confused, only to be taken down by seemingly nothing at all moments later. Spirale’s animals quieted again. They gave their signal. Everything else was in the citizens’ hands.

SO… WHAT’S THE DEAL?

This might be a bit tricky to explain, so please bear with me! Essentially, what happens after the warning signals is this: everything that is in your muses field of view at that moment stays the same. But as they look around, once something leaves their field of view, it is instantly and seamlessly transformed into the city as it could be after some apocalypse-esque scenario. And there’s weird static monsters.

IT’S A HALLUCINATION, RIGHT?

Oh no, not at all. It’s very real! Everything you touch in the ruined city is actually there for you, every monster you see can hurt you, etc. There is no way to “break the spell” so to speak and see the real world because, as far as your muse is concerned, that is the real world now.

DOES EVERYONE SEE THE SAME RUINED CITY?

No! In fact, everyone sees a completely unique ruined city. To go off of briefly mentioned examples in the story, Muse 1 might see a building covered in vines and moss, half rubble and utterly abandoned. Muse 2 might look at the same building and see a wooden flame currently ablaze with smoke billowing out of it. In some cases, one muse might not see anything at all! The effect does not happen to everyone each time, so some people will still see the city as normal.

The only way to know what another muse sees is to have them tell you in some way. The general layout of the city will be the same, though; the streets will be in the same places, the oceans will not have moved, and the hole in the center is ever present and inviting as always. Otherwise, you are free to use your imagination when it comes to what happened to your city!

DOES EVERYTHING ABOUT EACH CITY HAVE TO BE DIFFERENT, THOUGH? CAN SOME THINGS BE THE SAME?

While there should be no obvious and major similarities between two worlds, it’s fine if you want you and your thread partners worlds to share some things. Two roads can both be covered in rubble or debris, for example (though one might be covered in concrete and rebar and the other covered in fallen trees? Who knows!) or maybe both worlds have the same wall covered in scalable vines. It’s up to you, as long as each city is undeniably unique overall.

HOW DOES INTERACTING WITH THE WORLD WORK IF TWO PEOPLE DON’T SEE THE SAME THING?

It’d work about as silly and weird as you’d expect. If Muse 1 sees a wall covered in vines, like the example above, they can climb the vines just fine, but if Muse 2 has no vines in their world, they would see them scaling either a bare wall, or nothing at all if they don’t see a wall there at all. Basically, to one muse, it would look like one was just a scarily good mime.

ARE THE MONSTERS HOSTILE, AND CAN THEY BE KILLED?

They are very hostile, and will attack anyone they see on sight. They can be killed, but they are more durable than you’d expect, and the bigger the monster the more of a beating they can take before finally being taken down. You’ll probably need more than a simple sword or gun to deal with them unless they’re very small. However, even superhuman muses might have some trouble, due to one small detail…

Every monster can see everyone no matter which alternate city they come from.

A monster from Muse 1’s city can and will attack Muse 2, but Muse 2 will not be able to see the monster in return. To Muse 2, it’s as if they are being attacked by nothing, while Muse 1 will see that, obviously, there’s a weird glitchy dog thing pouncing on them! So it’s up to you to help or defend them. Or leave them to die as bait, if you’re feeling not so nice today. Just be careful, because they are your main defense against monsters from their city as well.

However, there is a caveat, a small saving grace if you want to call it that. For the monsters from someone else’s city to notice your muse, their muse must interact with yours. If the other muse is not aware of your muses presence at all, their monsters will not notice you either. That said, it only takes something as simple as a passing glance, or for them to hear your footsteps...

HOW MANY MONSTERS ARE THERE, THEN?

There’s enough that they can’t be disregarded completely, but not enough to where you will always see one. You’re not going to have to constantly fight or be worried about one right behind you, but if you wander more than a mile or so from your starting point, you can expect to find at least one or two. That is, if you are alone. If you get yourself roped into the business of a bunch of other muses (whether intentionally or otherwise), you can expect to deal with a lot more. But you might also get lucky and never encounter a single one! Lucky you!

HOW LONG DOES THIS EFFECT LAST?

This alternate city effect lasts anywhere from 6 to 12 hours for your muse. Within that time frame, it can fade, with the same seamless transition from earlier but in reverse where suddenly everywhere you look is back to normal. It can happen again and again and again, though, each new time accompanied by more warning signals from the ever helpful animals of Spirale and, if you want, a new ruined city. Of course, just because the effect wears off for you doesn’t mean it has for everyone. You may still need to watch your back.

THIS SEEMS LIKE A BIT MUCH…

It definitely can be, but it’s okay if you’d rather make your participation on the lighter side of things! Remember, your muse doesn’t even need to be affected in the first place. Likewise for your thread partner! If you’d rather your muse not be put into such an anxiety inducing situation, you’re free to have them simply react to everyone else acting strange. Or if you still want to incorporate the ruined city stuff, you can simply say they did not encounter any monsters… it’s totally plausible that could happen. It’s up to you! As much as the event is meant to be a spooky Halloween experience for your muses, we don’t want to make any muns themselves uncomfortable and unable to participate.

That’s it! If there’s any confusion or other unanswered questions, don’t hesitate to ask the masterlist for a little clarification. This event will end on November 8th at 12:01am.

[wickedblue34]

The Whisperer Ch.1

Genre: fluff, slight angst, romance

Summary: OT7 Bts soulmate/hybrid story. Y/N is a lonely shelter worker with a secret. Suddenly, seven hybrids get thrust into her life in an unexpected, but not unwanted way. This is how their lives together progress and change for the better.

~~~~~

You had just came back from lunch, and was sitting at your desk at the shelter, when you heard a loud commotion in the obervation room. Your heart lurched as you saw three security guards run into the room. Jumping up, you ran inside, to see what was happening. You were shocked at the chaos in front of you.

A Cheetah, a large black Wolf, and white tiger defensively stood in front of what looked like a ring tailed lemur, silver fox, Maine coon cat, and a red panda, who were cowering away in the corner furthest from the door.

The larger predators would lash out at anyone that came within swiping or biting distance. You gasped in shock. Instant regret filled you, when everything suddenly stilled. The hybrids all looked towards you at the same time, almost as if they were one.

The three guards, Jackson Wang, your boss- who you just noticed was there- and two other shelter workers turned towards the door in confusion, only to stare at you in panicked disbelief.

" Y/N! What are you doing, you idiot?! Get out of here, now. It's too dangerous!" Jackson said frantically, as he warily looked between you and the now silent but still tense hybrids. He slowly backed up so that he was standing within arms reach of you, with his eyes still on the hybrids.

"S-sorry, I just heard all the noise, and wanted to make sure everyone's alright." You said, taking a step to the side, so you could open the door.

Just as you reached for the handle, the tiger growled lowly, still watching your every move. It, as well as the cheetah and wolf took a step forward.

Immediately, Jackson gently but firmly grabbed your arm, pulling you behind him and blocking you from the hybrids' hoping to keep you safe in case of an attack. Big Mistake.

As soon as he touched you, the tiger roared, and the other two defensive hybrids leapt into action. They started batting the humans out of the way as they inched towards you, though you noticed that they were careful not to actually seriously injure anyone.

Before you could observe further, however, you saw the tiger heading straight towards you and Jackson.

Right as it moved to pounce, Jackson pushed you out from behind him, as he took the brunt of the attack. Landing on the floor, you hissed in pain as you caught yourself on your hand, causing a scratch from the rough concrete.

Before you could even think to move, you suddenly lost your breath when a huge lump of black fur landed on top of you, pushing you to stay in an awkward position on your right side.

You froze as you felt, more than heard, the growl coming from the hybrid that was laying across your entire middle, keeping you pinned down.

Looking up, you saw Jackson frantically trying to get closer to you, but your field of vision was suddenly blocked by silver fur. You were shocked to feel something warm and wet moving across the front and part of the right of your neck, as you heard faint whimpers.

For some unknown reason, the sensation of what you just KNEW was a tongue licking you, calmed you down quickly.

Without thought, you wiggled your left hand out from under the hybrid on top of you and began petting what you assumed to be the little silver fox, in a soothing manner. Instantly, the whimpers turned into purrs as it nuzzled even further into your neck and collar bone. You unconsciously smiled, despite the situation.

"Y/N, just hang in there. I'll save you. Just stay calm." You heard Jackson yell.

"Don't worry, Jackson. I'm fine. They aren't hurting me." You replied as loudly as you could, seeing as you were currently covered by hybrids. You gently moved the fox away from your face enough to be able to see around the room, ignoring the way your heart broke as it whimpered, trying to bury itself into you further.

Looking straight ahead, you were in awe at seeing the cheetah and tiger standing a few feet away from you, facing the opposite direction as they once again growled and lunged towards anything without fur. However this time, they seemed even more aggressive, if possible.

Looking over, you noticed the wolf was the culprit for restricting your movement. Glancing around, you tried to find the lemur, red panda, and Maine coon cat, becoming slightly worried when you couldn't spot them anywhere.

You once again froze as you felt something furry wrap loosely around the front of your neck, and small hand-like paws on the left side of your head, above your ear and on your cheek. At the same time, you felt a small warm body press up against your shoulder blades and nuzzle the back of your neck. You felt another warmth against your waist and felt paws on your left hip

Oddly enough, you felt safe and comforted by the presence of the hybrids surrounding you. Like you knew they'd never hurt you. You could even tell, and were also grateful, that the wolf wasnt putting its full weight down on you. You knew that if it did, it'd surely suffocate you. As it was, you were already having a little difficulty in the breathing department.

Hearing someone clear their throat, you snapped back into reality. Looking back towards the other humans in the room, almost laughed at the pure confusion and disbelief covering each of their faces. In any other situation, you would have.

However, you knew that they were all concerned for your safety at the moment, and so held yourself back.

"Uh....Y/N, any idea as to what's going on?" Jackson asked in a shaky voice.

"Honestly, not a clue." You replied dryly.

Jackson tried to take a step forward, only to curse and jump back when the still growling tiger swiped at him. Raising his arms in a sign of surrender, he backed up even further.

"Easy there, buddy. I'm not here to harm anyone. I just want to move her. " He said, trying to calm the large predator down.

It, er.... it didn't work. Instead, it only seemed to agitate the large predators more. Even the smaller hybrids seemed to become more upset. All four move even closer to you, almost as if they were trying to burrow themselves into your skin with you as the wolf shifted, placing a little more weight on you.

As the wolf shifted, the little fox apparently found where your shirt had risen up during your fall because the next thing you know, it had hidden under your shirt, laying lengthwise, so that it's nose barely poked out of the collar, causing goosebumps to form on your skin as you felt it's fur tickling your bare torso, and the parts of your breasts that wasn't covered by your bra. You concealed a shiver at the feeling of its breath ghosting up your neck.

You tensed slightly in shock, but otherwise didn't move.

That is, until you felt something lick the back of your neck. Instantly, you melted, relaxing as much as you could in your awkward position.

Tilting your head just enough to glance back, you saw the lemur looking down at you from its position behind your head. Just the briefest flash of dark red fur over your shoulder let you know that it was the red panda that was currently licking you.

That also meant that the hybrid you felt leaning on your hip was the Maine coon.

All of the hybrids on top of you were practically vibrating with pure tension. Thinking quickly, you spoke.

"Um, Jackson, I don't think that's a good idea.... maybe you guys should just leave for a min-"

"Are you crazy?! Absolutely not! I will not leave you in here by yourself with seven male hybrids that we just picked up, and have practically knowledge on. Especially not when three of them are obviously highly aggressive!" Jackson interrupted, yelling angrily.

The three aforementioned hybrids growled lowly in warning. You were surprised to hear growls from the other four as well, seeing as they'd only shown fear and submission up until that point.

"Uh boss... I don't think they like your tone of voice... Maybe Y/N is onto something here. I mean, look at them. They aren't trying to hurt her. In fact, it's like they're trying to protect her... From us." One of the other shelter workers, Mark, stated.

"Yeah. I mean, when she came in, they calmed down. But then you touched her, and all hell broke loose. Now, any time one of us tries to get close, they lash out. Especially when you said you wanted to move her. Let the Whisperer do her job. They'll only become more agitated the longer we're in here." Bambam, the other worker said.

Jackson looked at you warily, seemingly thinking about what to do. Finally, after a few moments, he sighed heavily, nodding in defeat.

"Alright, fine. We'll leave the room. But me and the guards will be standing right outside, so holler if anything happens, and we will be in here immediately. " He stated, looking at the hybrids warningly.

The tiger huffed in annoyance, but otherwise didn't move. He seemed to be the leader of the group, as no one moved an inch unless he did.

Without another word, Jackson motioned for everyone else to slowly exit the room. Mark and Bambam gave you encouraging smiles as they left. Soon, with one last warning look, Jackson closed the door behind himself, leaving you alone with seven hybrids.

~~~~~

After the door shut, the larger feline hybrids waited a beat before relaxing their defensive positions and turned towards you, approaching slowly, as if to not scare you.

However, you couldn't find it in you to feel even the slightest bit afraid.

You reached up and gently pushed against the wolf, who seemed to get the hint and moved off of you, instead, sitting at your side.

You carefully removed the lemur's tail from your neck as you sat up, placing a hand under the Fox's butt so that he was cradled against your chest, before trying extract him underneath from your shirt.

Key word: trying.

His pitiful whimper made sure you didn't have the heart to fully remove him. Instead, you just moved him so he curled against your bare stomach. Crossing your legs, you kept an arm under the fox, to keep him from falling.

As soon as you were comfortable, the Maine coon took up residence in your lap, and the lemur jumped to sit on your shoulder, once again curling his tail around your neck, this time for stability.

Feeling something brush against your pant covered thigh, you saw that the wolf had laid down beside you.

A low chuffing noise had you turning towards the tiger and cheetah, who were sitting in front of you, a few feet away from you and the others.

One look at the tiger's expressive gaze and downcast ears, and the cheetah's nervously flickering tail let you know what was going on. They were waiting on you to acknowledge them before approaching.

You instinctively knew why, too. While the others, besides the wolf, had been nothing but submissive, they had been the most aggressive out of the bunch. The wolf had been on top of you for a good ten minutes, and you knew that by now, he could have easily hurt you if he'd wanted.

However, the other two hadn't made any contact with you so far, and were waiting for your reaction before trying to initiate it.

Smiling gently, you raised your hand out towards the tiger, who happened to be the closest of the two. Your heart clenched slightly when he flinched. Moving slowly, you held your hand in front of his face, waiting on him to close the distance.

It didn't take long. He immediately nuzzled into your hand, making a happy chuffing sound. You giggled as you began stroking his fur.

Hearing a feline whine, you looked towards the cheetah, who had laid down and was slowly belly-crawling towards you, his ears pinned back in sadness.

Switching out the hand that was cradling the fox, you repeated the process, allowing him to make final contact. The cheetah purred happily as he nuzzled into your hand.

For a while, you switched between petting each hybrid. All of you silently reveled in each other's calm presence. No words were needed in this moment.

After a bit, you stretched, trying to get the kink out of your back from sitting in the same position for so long.

Noticing your grimace, the tiger moved so that he was laying behind you, motioning with his head for you to lean on him. You did so gratefully.

Without even realising, you'd all slowly moved so that you were now using the tiger as a pillow, with the wolf on one side, the cheetah on the other, and the other four hybrids were sprawled out across your body.

Surrounded by their warmth, and lulled by their gently purrs and growls, you were sound asleep before you even knew what was happening.

~~~~~

A few hours later, that's how Jackson found you. He'd come to check on you after completing his last rounds for the day, and upon peeking into the tiny window of the door, was shocked to see you asleep with all seven hybrids curled around you.

Opening the door, he flinched when the tiger's head instantly shot up, lowly growling in warning. Luckily, you were awakened by the movement.

As your eyes fluttered open, you saw Jackson standing halfway in the door, and you immediately shot up into a sitting position, although you took care not to accidentally send one of the hybrids on top of you, flying.

" Oh No! I fell asleep! I'm so sorry Jackson! What time is it?!" You asked frantically, feeling guilty as you realized you'd literally fallen asleep on the job. A first for you.

Jackson rolled his eyes in exasperation, but smiled fondly.

"It's closing time, sleepy head. Don't worry, I finished up for you. Just hurry and get up, so we can lock up and go home."

You nodded, feeling even guiltier. As the owner and main caretaker of the shelter, you knew that Jackson already had a lot on his plate, so the fact that he'd had to do your job as well made you feel even worse.

"I'm so sorry, it won't happen again!" You stated, gently removing the hybrids from your person. As you stood up, you were prevented from taking a step towards the door, by a gentle tug on your pants leg. Looking down, you saw the fox staring up at you with pitiful eyes, the fabric of your jeans in his mouth.

"Sorry buddy, but I've got to go. I'll be back soon. I'll see you bright and early, the day after tomorrow, I promise." You bent down to pet him as he released your jeans. Your eyes welled with tears as he began whining pitifully, standing on his hind legs and scratching at your leg, begging you to stay.

No matter how much you wanted to, you knew you couldn't, and it saddened you to the point of tears. Upon hearing you sniff delicately, the wolf let out a quiet woof, which caused the fox to pause. He looked towards the larger canine, whining once more, before dropping down to all fours and slowly walking back over to the rest of the pack, his ears and tail slumped in sadness.

A tear rolled down your face as you gave the saddened hybrids a last farewell before walking out the door.

Once outside the room, Jackson immediately pulled you into a comforting hug. You silently sobbed into his chest. You felt like a piece of you was missing, and you knew that it was in the room with those seven hybrids.

After a taking a few moments to collect yourself, the two of you made your way to the front of the shelter. As you clocked out and passed the front desk, Jackson handed you a thin file.

"What's this?" You asked, confused.

"It's the info we have on those seven hybrids. Its not much, but after what I've seen today, it's pretty safe to assume that you'll be the one working with them the most. Because of that, I want you know as much about them as I do, so far. I know you have tomorrow off, so read through it, and familiarise yourself with the information as much as you can before you come back. Seriously. They come from a bad place, and I don't want to risk anyone getting hurt. Least of all, you. You're like a sister to me, Y/N. I'll observe them more tomorrow, and send you any knew details I pick up." Your heart swelled at his concern. After assuring him that you'd look through the files, the two of you parted ways.

Despite your long nap, you were so emotionally drained that you fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

[hidden-not-isolated]

Hidden, Not Isolated [C3]

Just staring.

Just staring.

Just staring.

All

Just 

Staring.

Continuously staring.

Staring.

Staring.

All staring.

Plop.

Feeling something wet land on his head, the instinctive backlash of slightly tucking his head into his shoulders in wince was barely acknowledged beyond the eternal nighttime atmosphere and unnatural trance that dragged him overwhelmed. After all, all he saw in that sprinkled window was the reflection of a very much despised bloke with cowardice; He may as well just try to treat himself with this curious gaze. He didn’t have a choice. Something paranormal was drawing him to the glass. Something. Just a few more moments and then he would tear away. What was the harm in proceeding to glare into his echo regardless? It was shuteye, right? No one would come out here and see him. No one would call the police. Hell, no one even technically knew he was in the area, right? There was nothing wrong with watching the glass and if it could move.

Plop.

Guess another drop knocked against his skull. 

Tap.

And another behind him. 

Pff.

And another against his scarf. 

Drizzle.

Rainshower.

Not even having enough time to stitch together any sort of opinion of the unmerciful droplets from the scattered fabrics that were his thoughts, what was once a soothing pitter-patter soundtrack gradually yet hastily unveiled its true colours, them being rapid droplets which remained to repeat the tapping racket whilst chilled liquid streamed from the threateningly shaded clouds overhead again...and again...and again...and again...and again...

Well, this was just great. 

As he gingerly escorted him and his shivering silhouette back to the nearby alleyway, the fact that the diversion overfalling him had charmed his eyes to tear away from the glass was pushed aside behind the eyes of cowardice alongside a brand-new rainfall brazenly marching his way. The first time the gloomy clouds decided to bombard him with a violent shower, he passed out; Even if a contributing factor were his stress levels, what were the chances he would get sick this time around? Actually, what were the chances he was already sick? It would explain the strange block in his throat and continuous fatigue amidst frequent coughing fits erupting from his scratched throat. No...no, surely he was fine. The universe wouldn't do that to him, right? 

God doesn’t play the dice.

Less dice and more empathy.

As he sat onto the newly wet alleyway floor, the storm was already unmercifully descending onto the town, it being significantly heavier than the first rainshower. If that was possible, I mean. On the flipside, what the hell were the odds? What was he, a black cat, bringing bad luck to everything and everyone in proximity? He brought misfortune to everything and everyone in his vicinity previously anyway. Why did he even deserve friends before, in fact? He didn’t. From anything and everything he had done injustice before, why would he deserve companions out of the rubble? Friendship is a privilege, not a right, no? A right is something you deserve to have, no matter the circumstances. A privilege is something you don’t need to have and can live without. Like friends. Or people in general. He could live without them.

He

could 

live

without

them.

In fact, he lived without them before. He did it before...! Couldn’t he just do that again and call it quits on his mission? He was initially really adamant about going on his quest but…Nothing worse could come from going back into hidden isolation, after all. He would be just fine. He was just fine…

...right?

Finally releasing an itching cough fit that had been rising in the back of his throat, he questioned if you could measure your own sanity without anybody else's input, no? He had, in fact, remained sane throughout the course of years-...It had been years, right? He really never had any way of recognizing what time it was; any sort of clock or watch went haywire in either of the alternative dimensions. Year by year didn't exactly seem to work parallel in the Overworld as it did past the skipping lines of cross-dimensions.

What time was it anyway?

Obviously, it was night, unmistakable by the darkness imprisoning sun, but how many hours had he burned through after he melted himself asleep exactly? When did he fall asleep? Just his luck. He positively didn’t get to see the sun nearly as many times as he would’ve liked. It just always seemed to be blackness around him. In fact, had he been in more nights than days? He couldn't tell. Why couldn’t he just outlive the teasing sun and instinctively doze away from the moon of mystery?

How long would the night last?

To be honest, if this town was just “so nice,” wouldn’t there be any sort of way to measure the passage of time outside? Has that never been a problem for others previously? Literally shivering in his boots, beyond the blurred haze of dim colours, his disoriented mind dragged his feet from the ground and ran away.

He ran away from his problems, I mean.

Yet again.

Evident by him tucking his knees into his chest, he geared up for the storm approaching by protectively enveloping his arms around his legs whilst the cold wind patrolling the night whirled around the atmosphere. If you think about it, even the worst of fiction has a happy ending, so his story would eventually be met with a peaceful conclusion if he just waited long enough. Again, it’s all about perseverance. Just keep waiting, Soren.

Just keep waiting, Soren.

CRASH.

And then,

Soren’s outcry went ignored.

It was submerged with a roar of thunder amidst a bursting screech of sudden illumination ripping apart the celestial sky. His instinctive flinch of violent startlement was discarded and only mimicked past another CRASH warningly breaking through the relatively quiet atmosphere with its crash echoing in and out of his eardrums, pursued by one more BOOM of thunder presently after.

The storm wasn’t going to be easy. 

It’s not much of a secret that people can get used to things without even realizing it. Character development, gradually adapting, taking what you have for granted, all that. He's been through worse; a simple thunderstorm wouldn't be so bad. Besides, it was only...day four? His memory was taken with the wind. Maybe three? Five? Either way, after all he had been through, it’d be pathetic to go down here. Besides, whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right? He could survive this storm past the hours ticking onwards. And with the hours ticking onwards, a sickeningly familiar pain in his stomach made yet another appearance.

Starvation. 

He was still fine.

If he couldn't find food sooner or later, maybe he could just take his chances with more Chorus Fruit--they never even teleported him that far, what was the big deal the first time? Besides, humans can go, he thinks, two weeks without food...? One…? Regardless, he was fine.

Though time moves on regardless of decisions, one thing that was unique to him was his patience that was turning out to be gradually burning to bits. That was evident by him experimentally brushing his eyes upwards naturally with a heart violently thumping amidst its complaints. It had been several hours, the day’s sun would emerge from the horizon. Of course, other humans would also be out and about but that would be his problem when he got there. Also, the rain and thunder definitely didn’t seem to go anywhere, even after an entire night but at least he could begin his journey to fix his sleeping schedule. Though...the sight of anyone at all would mainly be enough to give him panic attacks. But again: 

That was the problem when he got there.

His eyes expecting to see a glimpse of sunray cracking the overcast sky was met with a nasty surprise, as he was confronted by yet another BOOM instantaneously that flung him almost staggering over himself and fracturing his skull against the stone concrete if it wasn’t for his elbows to save the day.

What the hell?

It was still night? 

CRASH.

Violent flinch.

I mean, he knew the storm was still thundering loud, though he dismissed the crashes in the background, but it had been hours, right? He even made a conscious effort to refrain from looking towards the sky until now, why wouldn’t the universal concept of time just cooperate with one man’s brittle sanity? The clock was ticking on for all he knew to be hours! Sure, he didn’t have any way to verify the position of hands on the clock from his situation on the stormy alleyway but it should’ve been hours, no? 

Was he going insane? 

He dismissed the topic of insanity previously but was it official now?

Was the paranormal the problem or was he the problem?

CRASH. 

Startled, his survival-instinct forced his hands to clasp on the coldly wet pavement and froze in fear for a moment. He learned to maintain a habit of both sound-sensitive and touch-sensitive reflex. Loosening one of his delicate arms, he released his fingers to experimentally wander on auto-pilot to retrieve his scarf’s loose-end from the alleyway floor, for he was beginning to become rather cold with all this wind and rain...or a lot cold with all this wind and rain. He more or less just suffocated himself with his own thoughts for the past...hour? Was he wrong thinking it had been several hours? Or was he just going mental? Regardless, his active daydreaming habit singled him out too many times, this time he aimed to numb himself from reality. It worked. Most of the time anyway. When his cautious fingers did belatedly meet the fabric, Soren automatically recoiled in surprised revulsion, feeling the wetness of the cloth.

His life was far from predictable but was there really an excuse for being this jumpy? It obviously wasn’t a big deal, guess he never really acknowledged his own scarf much. It was just a part of his outfit for so long, he neglected its existence overall. At least not enough to actively take care of it. What’s that phrase that’s like: “when your life’s in danger, you don’t have to be fabulous?” That’s why he rubbed some of the soggy dirt off of his scarf without much hesitation--he never really had a reason to care especially about health, he was used to getting hurt...physically or mentally will stay ambitious. As he wrapped his scarf around his neck, he was warmer. Not warm. But warmer. 

Speaking of which,

What he wouldn’t do for a jacket.

But he brushed that off.

He did so many crazy things, why would he be resentful with a thunderstorm? He did so many crazy things, would a downpour really be his snapping point? He did so many crazy things, it would make him hypersensitive to fail to this. There was no need to be such a baby over some water falling from the clouds. Besides, it would be hypercritical to whine over starvation, homelessness, weakness, and whatever else he may be forgetting past the haze of disorient. After all, didn’t he technically do this to himself? If he had never come here, no lightning storms nor human beings would be any cause for concern. In fact, was he just...waiting for something interesting to happen...? Within this alleyway...? Waiting for courage? Waiting for essentials? Waiting for the Grim Reaper? What was he doing? If someone was to actually find him, they would just call the police and be arrested, no? He wouldn’t even have the energy to futilely try and run away upon sight. If anything, his nocturnal sleeping schedule was working in his favour, seeing as nobody would be out and about, chance of noticing him. Not to mention his Anthropophobia would obviously be pulsating uncontrollably if someone witnessed him passing time with heaving his life to hell. So realistically, if someone was to actually see him, help or otherwise, a panic attack would be all he’d be hit wi

CRASH.

- - -

Morning.

That was all he could make out past the fact that, though he didn’t want to, a brand-new day emerged from his rotten karma. Once his eyes instinctively cracked open, they were immediately bombarded with exhaustion beyond the actuality that he had woken from an insomniac slumber. Again. 

Also…

It was morning, right? 

Then why did the shading of morning seem darker than normal? And why did rather annoying beats of wet seem to just plunge from the sky again and again? 

Right. 

It was raining.

His thoughts in his mind were hazed. They were blurred. 

So much so, then and there, he couldn’t tell the difference between the clouded, light-headed lines of drizzle and downpour.

But it might as well be.

. . .

Splitting his eyelids apart, an orangish hue coated the area amidst overhead dark shadows he knew to be clouds past his fatigue. 

Day.

. . .

He

Couldn’t

Tell.

It

Was

Noon,

Right?

. . .

Sunset.

Probably.

. . .

Night.

Rain.

It was night.

And it was raining.

Not drizzling.

Straight up pouring.

He knew that.

He could know that.

Finally.

When he was finally able to keep his eyelids open for more than something of thirty seconds, the sun was already beginning to set upon the horizon, leaving him to wonder when he had fallen asleep...all times. He could hazily recollect making a deliberate decision to take a nap to try to shake off his heavy eyelids the first time around but the others? He didn’t mean to. Worth noting though, I’m talking, within the last two seconds of consciousness the first time around. Maybe that was him being impulsive initially. Maybe that was him looking out for himself initially. Besides, what harm could a short nap do? This. But in the morning, that was all he thought he needed. Sure, he didn’t have any kind of alarm clock obviously, but he thought he could’ve trusted himself. 

He couldn’t.

This wasn’t a nap. 

He wanted to fix his sleeping schedule since the darkness had a habit of scaring him but he was asleep for all he knew to be hours--that was called being straight up nocturnal. Not to mention the confusion of how many times exactly he fell asleep throughout the day. And woke up. That was the most confusing part. He woke up at the times of...morning and...day...? Sunset and noon…? He was really just guessing. He was really just naming stages of the day. Yeah, that was really what he was doing. He could easily be wrong. It was pointless. Like his presence. Since he had no sure-fire way of recognizing his awakenings, he should really just call it quits on understanding. He would probably just strain himself trying to remember anyway. 

And no,

He didn’t find any food that day either.

CRASH.

Even if the thunder was out of sight and he didn’t want to see something that would scare him half to death anyway, the feeling of it hitting somewhere behind him, him not being able to tell how close exactly the flash was to striking him, made it enough to make him violently flinch amidst immediate, uncontrollable trembling.

CRASH.

You know it’s bad when someone who hadn’t even been looking towards the sky knows it was bigger than that first bolt. Scarier than the first bolt. 

They say fear is one of the strongest emotions. They say fear can control someone. They say both. Who is “they” and what exactly are the other emotions they’re comparing it to? No idea. But maybe he just couldn’t remember. Fatigue can do that to you...not that he would recall it past the blur. Regardless, that’s why the sky just somehow seemed to use some kind of fear-mongering tactic to get Soren to worriedly stare at the threateningly pessimistic atmosphere, waiting for an invitation from hope whilst his only source of warmth remained to be his scarf...but mainly his forehead.

CRASH.

Was it just him or was the lightning striking more frequently tonight? And was the falling rain heavier tonight? Again, he really couldn’t tell. Was the first storm several nights ago just some kind of warm-up? Was it a warning he should’ve heeded? Probably. Just another thing he was doing wrong. He did everything wrong. Even if it was basic. On the second day, he couldn’t breathe. On the third day, he didn’t know where he was. On the fourth day, he was starving. On the fifth day, a thunderstorm made him pass out from fear. What was going to go wrong this day? His realization that if it wasn’t for him and his idiotic scheme of a plan, he wouldn’t be here, getting drenched in a cloudburst? He wouldn’t be here, wanted? But that didn’t even matter, even if he wasn’t wanted, he couldn’t talk to anyone to save his life. He was a failure. A coward. A liar. Whatever else he might be forgetting. Hell, if he knew what was in store for him years ago, he’d really just rather be born as something of a donkey, living out such uneventfully peaceful days. I mean, you know your life’s gone relatively downhill when you consider the possibility that a mule probably has a better life than you. Maybe he should just retreat to the End after all. Nothing worse could come from withdrawal; he was silently dying and nobody would help him...not that he’d want anyone’s help. He had no clue who he was supposed to be, considering he was replaced. He made so much effort to be something of a “great architect” and it had all been turned to dust with a new generation. Kind of similar to how he did so much to get hither but was he really going to call it quits now? Besides, he was still way too vulnerably weak to traverse the distance to the nearest End Portal. So, all in all, what alternative option did he have? He was still stranded in an alleyway with pointless emotions amidst pointless thoughts.

“Uh...is anybody there?”

His presence was pointless.

“Kill ya’ to say something?”

His existence was pointless.

“Hello~o~o?”

He was pointless.

“Woah!”

And then,

His heart stopped.

The words only barely slipped from his mouth.

“Magnus…?”

[anarchist-puppet-on-strings]

Property Gets Branded

SUMMARY: He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so terrified in his entire life—there’s just something different about losing control of his magic and having an anxiety attack compared to staring such a monstrous beast in the eyes and knowing he’s to blame for this. His jaw dropped and found himself unable to make a noise, every muscle frozen up in sheer horror.

Oh, he is so fucked.

Tag list: @assbutt-of-the-readers (let me know if you want to be added)

Dim candlelight danced across the floor, the shadows of the dark warehouse pushing and recoiling. It’s an eerie sight but he supposed that's the energy ill rituals should give off.

Getting over the chain link fence surrounding the abandoned warehouse was difficult—especially in combat boots—but Marvin did it somehow. Here he is, standing inside a circle of lit black candles and jagged, angry looking runes with an ancient tome opened to the last few pages. Inside the circle were more runes drawn in charcoal but this time they were significantly smaller and more numerous than the ones outside the circle. It’s ominous and screamed danger. Not like he particularly cared.

“And now I need a blood sacrifice…” he muttered under his breath, before dogearring the page and setting the book down. He tiptoed around the candles and stood in the middle.

It said a ritual dagger would be preferable but all he had is a boxcutter, so he guessed the ritual had to deal with it. Why'd you even need a specific dagger to draw blood? Blood is blood, right?

Dragging the blade across his forearm hurt more than he thought, and he couldn't help but hiss through his grit teeth. He made sure to angle the cut away from his blue veins. He squeezed the flesh around the cut to milk some more blood out and watched as the red and cyan drops fell onto some of the runes.

He stepped back outside the circle and picked the book back up, ignoring the lingering ebb of pain on his arm.

“Next step: chant the incantation and pour as much magic as you can into the summoning spell. If you're lucky, a nearby demon will be attracted to the blood and magic and come visit you. The process could take anywhere from up to a minute to a few hours, so remain vigilant.” Marvin frowned deeply. So the demon had to choose to come to him based on his magic and blood? That’s… annoying.

The chant wasn't anything particularly difficult—if you counted Latin easy. His magic reacted to the language easily, he could feel it swelling in his veins and intertwining with his words. The atmosphere grew lighter, magic filling the empty warehouse and permeating the air. As soon as the last word fell from his lips, the magic flow halted abruptly and the silence returned heavier than before.

Seconds ticked by… seconds turned into a minute… a minute turned into several…

Every muscle in his body was tense, magic bristling. His breaths had to be forcefully regulated otherwise he might lose control of his magic in his worry. After several minutes, his shoulders slumped forward and he let out a shaky exhale.

He left the summoning ritual, staggering to a nearby wall and slumping against it, hands shoving his mask up and dragging down his face as he groaned loudly.

“This is fucking insane. What am I hoping to accomplish with this?”

Well, obviously he’s trying to find a demon that could remove his shitty curse. And now that he’s thinking about it, this was a very stupid idea. Literally every warning about magic had been ignored to do such a thing. Hell, he even snuck off without Spades and Clubs! Well, it’s a good thing nothing happened, because that meant he could bail before anything decided to show up.

He let a gentle gust of magic blow out the candles before he shoved them back into his bag. Scuffing some the runes off with his battered tennis shoes was harder than he thought but eventually it’s destroyed enough that some poor bastard couldn't recognize what had been going on.

A wave of dizziness washed over him, forcing him to tilt dangerously and squeeze his eyes shut. His stomach gurgled unhappily, a pang of hunger hitting his gut. Wrapping an arm around his middle, he let out a shaky exhale. Okay, next order of business is to get something to get his stomach to shut up. Then he’d… do whatever. He’ll cross that bridge once he gets to it.

Just as he recollected himself enough to begin to head out, the building’s energy shifted. What had been a neutral energy quickly turned into a violent buzzing—it kind of reminded him of angry bees. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and gooseflesh broke out on his arms. His magic curled up, clearly spooked by whatever is coming.

“L̷ȩa͢vi͞n̡g wi͠t̛hoút͏ me?”͏ A distorted, broken voice asked from behind him. Just hearing it was enough to make his magic cringe.

Marvin spun on his heel, eyes wild. Standing there, shrouded in nearly palpable static, is most certainly a demon. It’s definitely taller than him—probably twice as tall—with unproportional stick thin limbs. Its scaly black skin is tight around its bones, unnaturally long claws tapping the concrete inanely. Its mouth is crammed full of pink stained teeth, translucent black saliva dripping from its jaws and splattering on the ground. Neon green eyes littered the creature’s body, masses of the blinking welts smattering its cheeks and neck. It’s hunched over, spine bent like a quadruped animal. Its body glitched violently, pieces scattering into millions of pixels and magnetizing back together in a different order.

He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so terrified in his entire life—there’s just something different about losing control of his magic and having an anxiety attack compared to staring such a monstrous beast in the eyes and knowing he’s to blame for this. His jaw dropped and found himself unable to make a noise, every muscle frozen up in sheer horror.

Oh, he is so fucked.

“̶S͜ur͘p͟rise̕d ͢I sh͘owe̕d͏ up̀?”̨ It asked, stalking forward, knuckles supporting half its weight. It seemed more like a wolf circling its prey. “Ho͏ẃ c͏o҉u̢ld͏ ̸I ͢no̵t w̵it҉h̴ ̨suc̷h ̷p͟ower̷f̷u̸l ḿa͟gic͠ çàl̡l̷i̵ng t̴o ͢me͏?”҉

Marvin wished he could move—wished he could teleport back into the alleyway he called home—but he’s rooted to the spot.

It cocked its head at an inhuman angle, large eyes blinking owlishly. ”̡Wha̶t’s ͞w̸ro͜ng͞?̸ Ca̢t g̨ot your̨ ͡t͝ong͘ue͘?́”͞ Its grin spread at the joke, rows of jagged fangs exposed in some sick smile. “Oh͘! I͡s i̛t̶ ҉ho͞w ͡I͟ lo̸o͢k҉? Wo҉uld̀ you̕ li͝ke me ̀t̵o s̕híf́t̀ ̡in͜to s̵om̕et̡h̀ìn͟g ͜e̕asi͞e͟r t̕o ́l̷ook ͏a̕t?̵”̡

He swallowed, nearly choking on saliva before nodding hesitantly.

Suddenly its body tensed and froze up, glitched, and then burst into a cloud of pixels. When it reformed it no longer looked like an eldritch being—it’s a human.

Oh, great; it’s kinda hot.

It’s still taller than him—probably half a foot or so—with bones showing through pale skin. It had spiked dark green hair, neon green and black eyes, black plugs, pointed ears, a crooked nose, black claws, sharp teeth, a laceration that went from ear to ear and wept liquid static and code. It wore a black shirt, black ripped skinny jeans, black combat boots.

All in all, the definition of intimidating.

“B҉e͜t̢ter?̵”

Willing the heat in his face to go away, Marvin nodded.

It bared its teeth in another poor smile. “̨Gǫòd.̕ I̛t's͡ ̢ņot ́a̕s̨ f̴u̷ņ ̕ẃhen ͝yo͜u҉ c͝an҉'t str̛ug͘gle.”̛

Well fuck. That wasn't good.

It prowled forward—oh where the fuck did the knife come from—eyes predatory. “I ͝do h̵òp͜e͟ ́yơu̕ ҉s̷tru͢gg͝l҉e; th͢e st̛ronger ̸o͟nȩs̨ p̀ųt̢ u͢p ͢more̡ ͜of ̴a͜ f̧i̸g̨ht̕.͠”

“W-wait! I wanted to… I want to make a deal?” He choked out, backing up, magic flaring to life and resting in the very tips of his fingers. It’s stuck. Of all the fucking times—

It stopped in its tracks, head cocked at that same unnerving angle. “̶Òh rea͘l̸ly̡?̵ W̕h̨a̵t couļd y̶ou͡ ̨possi͝b͞ly g͟ai̷n̴ fr̶om t̛hat?̛”͢ The malicious glitter in its eyes sent shivers down his spine.

His throat is dry and the words were lodged under the lump in his throat. All of a sudden it’s hard to find the words and get them out.

“͝Hów͟ ̡a͘bóu͢t͘ this?” It lunged forward, tackling him and pulling him to the ground. His startled shrieking swear only spurred the other on.

Marvin didn't even stand a chance against the demon.

The heel of its palm crushed his airway, knife pressed to his jugular. His hands came up to grasp at its wrist, clawing desperately at the exposed skin. He could feel skin catching under his nails, some kind of tingly, hot liquid caking the underside of his nails. Within mere seconds, the pressure on his neck had him choking and wheezing. Damn his fucking shitty ass lungs.

“I̷f̶ yo̶u mak͜e ̵a ̨d̢e͝al͢ ͏with ͞me, i͡t’́l̴l ͞be on ̧my ͞t͝e̷rms͢ o̶r̸ I͜’͘l͞l ͠r͠i̶p͞ ỳoúr s͞p͝in̴e̢ ̧out ̴y̡o̸u͠r̴ thr͞oa͝t͢. ͏G̵ot͢ ͏ìt?̶” It snarled, face inches from his own.

All he could do is writhe in panic. He didn't register the static from the demon’s neck wound dripping onto his body. Finally—finally—his magic overcame the block and surged forward, cyan fire sparking to life and clinging to the demon.

It howled, recoiling violently, and Marvin gasped when he felt the blade of the knife nick under his jaw and send warmth spilling down his neck. It wasn't enough to kill him… hopefully. It'd be just his luck it caught and tore an artery.

Seeing the demon trying to put out the fire would've normally made him laugh had he not been gasping. His lungs and throat burned and no amount of air was fixing it. He gently touched his hand to his neck, wincing at the soreness there. That’s definitely going to bruise.

“M͟ày̛b͠e͝ yo͜u ͏a̸re̵n̕'͟t͟ a͘s̸ st̴up̕id a͟s ̨y̡ơu loo͝k҉,̨”͏ it hissed. The burns the fire caused vanished with a single glitch.

Oh… that's quite unfortunate.

"I'l̴l̵ g͡iv̢e͟ ̨yo͢u͡ ̛óne ͡c͝h͟an҉c̴e,́" it snarled, circling around Marvin like a shark. "I'l͝l sp͠ár҉e ͜your l̴ife̕ ҉if̡ ̶ỳou s͡e̴l̡l y͞o͝ursel͟f ̴to͘ m̧e.̡"͏

The magician stiffened up, eyes tracking the demon's movements. He knew he couldn't take the beast on himself based on that recent display of power, but taking this deal could end up being a fate worse than death.

"Why... why should I? I wanted to make a deal with you," Marvin said, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice.

"I͜'͝m͞ n͝ot ͠a̕ d̵ȩm̀o̴n ̨wh̶o plays ̵fa͞ir,"͝ it growled, teeth bared. "Yòu táke̶ ̴this̀ ͘déal n̵o͡w or̴ I'l͝l b͞reak ͟y̵ou int̷ǫ p͢i͡e͏c͠es a͞nd ͝m͢ak͝e͝ you a͢cc̴e̡p̵t i̢t.͡"

He paled, heart thumping in his throat. So it’s either certain death or prolonged death? What a shitty situation he's gotten himself into. Why does this always happen to him? He already knew which one he’s going to choose but weighing his options... what’s stopping the demon from killing him when he made the deal? What did the demon want with him anyway?

"How do I know you're not just going to off me once I agree?" He asked warily, eyeing the monster suspiciously.

It scoffed. "Yo̸u͟ r͜eall͟y ̧th̴i̷nk ́I̶'m̧ ̷g̀o͡i͏ng thr͞ou̧g̴h́ a͘ll th̵i̶s͞ trouble t̀o͡ o͞ņly ̕k̷il҉l ҉yo͜u any͞w̧ay͝?̷ No̕,͜ ͢I͞'̷ll be k̡eepin̵g y̛ou ҉alįve ̵f̛or as͏ l͟ơn͡g͡ ͡as̴ ̴y͘óų ̸çoope̡ra͟t̕e͠. ͜Mage̛s ́a̧re rar҉e no͞wad̕ays͡, es҉pe̴c͘ially the ͟str̛on̵ger ̢ones͟." It cocked its head. "T̡hough͞ ͞I̴ ̷a̸m̴ qu̵i̷t̷e̢ c̸uri͢ous ab͏óu͟t̡ ̶tha̸t͏ ̸n͟asty ̧littļè ̡cuŕse͏ y̸ou ͝ha͏ve.̢"̡

His blood ran cold at the knowledge it knew about his curse. Maybe… maybe demons could just sense magic on others, especially since it’s a darker type of magic? He chewed his bottom lip, magic squirming inside him in discomfort. He didn't like the implications of that statement but...

"O-okay..." Marvin muttered, shoulders slumping forward in defeat. He could see its eyes glittering in triumph. It grinned, the teeth seeming to take up half his face.

"͠Very͟ ̧goo͠d.̨"̀

Like everything in his life, this had failed spectacularly. He couldn't even manage to summon a fair demon to make a deal with! All he got was an asshole with a god complex and absolutely nothing to help him remove his curse! And to top it all off, he sold himself to it to save whatever’s left of his shitty life. Fantastic. Absolutely perfect.

His cynical thoughts were interrupted by a voice.

"̢Y͞o͏u͟ stop̶ped͡ ̸pay͞ìn͢g ̸a͏tt̢en̛t̛ión.͢"̸

The demon stalked closer, its arm with the knife in hand swinging at its side. It walked with intent, drawing uncomfortably closer and closer to the vulnerable magician. Its eyes were... its eyes were shifting with static. And not just static either: it’s like those old technical difficulties screen that popped up and nearly blinded the viewer with bright, neon colors. A bar of yellow, cyan, green, magenta, red, and dark blue covered with a thin layer of static. They shifted, colors bouncing from one bar to the next, forcing his brain to try and keep track of the moving colors.

Thoughts started worming their way into his head. Just fleeting ones but they distracted him.

K͢e͟ep w͏atc̴hi͜n̕g the̛ c̡òl̨o͜rś. R̨el̨ax.͟ Y̧ou'͞r̡e̕ s̀a̶fe. N͟o ̷pai͝n.͡ W͢o͝n't hur̵t.

He blinked, struggling to keep his focus on the situation at hand.

Where were the thoughts... coming...

The eyes were... it's pretty. He's never seen anything so beautiful. He wanted to stare at them forever. He didn't know why he was panicking before. Why'd he need to be upset? He’s safe.

S̶ubmi͠t͏..́.̡..̀ ̀r̵e̡l̸ax̀.́..̴.. ̧giv͟e ͜up͞....̸.̢ ̛l͞e̴t ͠g̸o ̶of ͝y͡ou̶r m̢a͜gi̧c̶..... c͢oơp͘e͘ra̢te..̀.̡..̧ s̨ubm̴it͜..͢. rel̛ax̛..͜. ̨g̸i̷v̡e̴ u̵p̴..͝.͝ ́l͏e͞t ͘ģơ of y̸o͡ur̕ magi͞c͘.́.̷.̕ co͠ope҉r͡a͡t͝e..́.͢ su͞b̸m̀it,͏ ͡re̷lax,͏ ģive ̴up, ̶let̢ ͞g̨o of̵ y̶ou̕r ͘m̴agíc̵, ̕coo͠p̴èrate.͠ ̨Su͠bmit r͢e̢l͝a̢x ͟g͜iv̕e̶ u̵p l͝e̶t g̕o ́o͡f̷ yoùr mag̛ic͘ coopér͘at̛e̴ s͟u̕b͡mits҉u̕bmítg͞i̷v̧e͜up̴subm̕i̷t̵s͜u҉b̡mi͢t͟submitgive͏u̕p͜gi͜veup̶g̷i̸v̶e͟up͝—͡

Marvin was stuck standing still when the demon closed the gap between them.

"̛No͞t ̀so͜ ̧śt͠r̛on͘g͠ ̀a͞n͠ym͠oŕè, ͢eh?̛"͟ It asked, examining the magician curiously.

Everything felt... detached. Like he’s there but not mentally. The static curled around his consciousness like a blanket. He’s unable to move but the whispers in his head soothed his worry.

N͠ot͝hi̕n͢g ba͡d̸ ͟w͜i҉l̴l͘ h̕ap̶pen. ̕Yoư’͜re s̴afe. An̵ţį wil̸l p͟rot̕ec̢t͞ ̧ỳo̡u.̛

Weird... he didn't recognize that name but it had to be the demon's.

The creature—Anti—seemed to be satisfied with his work, a smug smile gracing his features. Seeing him smile made Marvin's lips twitch up, eyes wide and unfocused.

A hand came up and fingers ran carefully across his mask before they dipped down and stroked his cheek delicately.

"̸I ͢wońde͡r̛... ̧wha͠t'͜s u̵nd̕érne̵àt͠h͠ th͡a̕t ͠m̀as͏k ͟o̷f̕ ̶y͠our̛s̶? It̡ ͘l̴oo͜ks͜ ̧q̵u҉ite̛ rid͘icul҉oưs͜. I'́m s͢ur̴e you w̴o̧ul̸d̢n'̧t m͏i̶nd̶,̢ r̛i̸ght͡,͘ ki̶t̀t͟en͝?"͘ Anti's voice is sweet—saccharine.

He hummed uncomprehendingly, unfocused eyes staring forward dazedly.

The mask was removed and dropped to the ground, countless pieces shattering across the cement.

"҉I c̨a͏n̡ s͝e͘e͢ ̧w͝h̴y̷ you͠ wear̢ i͞t̕…҉̷ t̴hóse ́sc̶a͜rs ͏a͏r͘e hi͏deous̛.̧"͞ He remarked, eyes glittering with glee as he looked upon what Marvin tried so hard to hide from the world—and himself.

The voices couldn't calm him down now. Panic spread through his body like wildfire and he thrashed in whatever trance had him pinned down.

His mask is gone, his talisman is broken, he’s exposed, it’s staring at his face—

Anti dragged his claws over the scars with featherlight touches, tracing the edges and watching how the magician twitched and shuddered. The moment he let his claws sink in too deep and rip open skin, Marvin used the last of his mental power to surge through the now screaming voices and regain control.

A burst of magic and the demon was gone in a flurry of glitches. The sound of static appeared behind him and then something yanked on the hood of his cloak, sending him stumbling back into a body. An arm coiled around his waist and held him in place.

“́No̴ẃ t́h̶at̸ ̛y̵ou’r͠ȩ m̸y̶ ͞p̀r͝o̶per͏ty͡–”̧ Anti drawled nonchalantly—as if the previous hadn’t happened—trailing the knife down Marvin’s jawbone–“I͘’͘ve͢ ̀g͏òt͝ ҉to ̡b̀r͠a͞nd͝ you.”

His eyes went wide, heart stuttering to a stop. His magic instinctively swelled, prepared to prevent such a thing from happening only for the static in the air to grow denser, smothering it.

“A̶h̸ ah ah,̸ noǹe͜ ̡of͞ ͟t̢hat̢,̕” Anti chided. “̕Now̧…͟ wh͘ere to ͘p͘ut́ it͝…”̶ Marvin tensed at the hand that reached up and carresed his jawbone reverently. “Ḿaybe̸ yo̢úr ̸che̡e̸k?͠ O͢r...”̧ the hand trailed down, claws digging into the side of his neck, pricking skin. He couldn’t help the pitiful whimper that escaped him. “Yo̵ųr neck? ͢H͘m̵mm...”

The magic inside screamed, boiling to uncomfortable temperatures. His face was flushed so hot he’s worried he’d pass out before whatever the hell happened next.

“A̶ctu͏al̸ļy... I t͟h͢ink̵ ̀I’l̶l͜ m͏ake̴ i̡t̡ b̢i͝gg̛e̕r ̨t̨his̛ t̷i҉me̷. D͢o͜n’̵t̢ ̕w̛ant ̛a͏n͏y͡ ̧o̧th͞e͏r f̕u̕çks ̸to͏ưch̡i͢ng ẃhat̸’̨s͢ m̡i̶n͝e̷.”̸

His heart sank into his stomach.

It released him. “T͟ur͘n ̸a̛round̢. Ag̵a͞in͟s̢t the͝ w҉a͟ll͞.͝”

The magician obeyed, fearing what would happen if he didn’t obey. The stone wall is cool against his forehead. When he felt his cloak and shirt being shoved up, he reacted immediately, thrashing only to feel the knife being dug into his back. He stilled after that.

“̶Stay. ̨F̕uck̸i̕n̕g. ̛Still̢. ͘Or I͜’̴l͏l m̴ès̡s ̴up̡.”

His hands shook against the wall, every instinct in his brain screaming for him to move, to get away—

The first cut drew a startled gasp out of him, pain flaring up in the middle of his back. The next cut came relatively quickly, so he had to grit his teeth. Tiny noises slipped through his teeth, and within a few seconds his jaw is aching. Thankfully, it only lasted a minute or so. Once Anti was done(?), it retraced the lines, sinking the knife deeper into the original cuts. Tears that had been collecting in his eyes spilled down his cheeks and his jaw gave up, letting a pained sob out.

“͘Re͟alĺy?”͝ Anti asked, voice amused as it drug the knife down the previous cut. “҉Th͘ís isn’͜t͝ ̴e̶ven th̸at̷ bad. ͝Gųes̢s we’l̨l҉ ̧h̀av͢e̡ ͡t͜o ̷w̕or̢k on͘ ̸it̵.”̀

Guess we’ll have to work on it.

Dear gods, this was going to be a regular occurance. The thought made his eyes sting more.

He wasn’t sure how long this process lasted but then the knife is removed, and he sagged forward, choked gasps and sobs breaking the silence. The wounds throbbed and he cried out when Anti traced the lines, smearing warmth in its wake. It’s letters.

ANTI.

“̴T͟h҉er͘e̡ w̴e͞ g̨o. ͡M͡u̷ch b̡ette̡r͡, ͞hm͟m?́”̕

Fingers curled in his hair, tugging his head uncomfortably to the side. Bloodied fingers stroked his cheek tenderly, making him cringe. Seeing Anti suck his blood off its fingers only made his empty stomach roil.

“Q͡uit̴e̡ ̨t҉h̵e͟ ͠p͢re҉t͟t̸y ̀do͞ll̴.̢..”̶ the demon murmured, clearly lost in thought. Marvin wasn’t sure if he was meant to hear that but his cheeks flushed, and he cursed himself for getting flustered over such a creepy comment. “D͜on̴’t q͠u̶i͡tę k̢n̢ow͘ wh̢at́ ͟I͢’l̸l dò wi̡t̛h ̸yo̷u y҉et̢, bu̷t͘ ̸I͝’̕m ͠su͠r̷e ̛I’͝l̶l̢ ̴f͏ind͘ a pur͡po̸se fo͝r ỳou̴ ̧soo̸n.”

That look…. Marvin’s seen that look from people he’s met on the streets. Just like always, it made his insides twist.

Anti blinked, mind coming back to reality. It withdrew its hand and backed away. “Wel͟l,̀ ̢I͞ neęd͢ to ͜b̵e g͞oin͞g҉. I ͏e̡x͞pect̨ ͝yoư t̕o ̡lea͡rn͜ ̸how͢ to lis͠t͜éń b̵e̴tter̷ n͠ext̴ t̛i̵me.͡“͟ ͞The air warped, its figure glitching violently before disappearing.

The static lifted as soon as it had come and the oppressive atmosphere shifted back into its neutral one.

He’s alone.

His legs shook violently and he slid down the wall, the remains of his mask littering the ground around him, cursing colorfully when the wall rubbed the fabrics into his wounds.

What the fuck happened. What the fuck happened? Did he… did he really make a deal with a demon...? And not fucking get his curse removed? Gods, he truly is stupider than he thought.

For the first time in a long time, Marvin bowed his head and cried.

[californiadreaminghq]

Oh good, you made it!

Did you guys know Ky was coming? They brought Vance deLery, The Ghost! And just on time! Grab a drink, find a spot, and make sure you finish everything on the checklist. The band is just getting started – you have 24 hours to send in your account! We’re so glad you’re here!

I. OUT OF THE STUDIO

NAME/ALIAS: Ky

AGE: 28

PRONOUNS: they

                                                 II. ON STAGE

NAME: Vance deLery

FACE CLAIM: Ben Barnes

AGE: 35

TITLE: The Ghost

DREAM: Somebody

OCCUPATION: Guitarist/Vocalist for Indigo Dusk

                                               III. INTERVIEW

Answer the following questions in your character’s voice:

If you could do anything in the world for a living, what would it be?

“Make music. That’s why I’m here, that’s - it’s what I’ve been tryin’ to do all my life. Since I was old enough to know a note, man.” Not an exaggeration; his ma used to laugh, looking at all those polaroids she’d pinned up. Some beaming, black-eyed baby pawing at the keys of the piano in that schoolroom where she did her lessons. This kid perched on the bench, hand-me-down dress shirt tucked in nearly to his knees, crisp white cotton hanging off his skinny shoulders as he played his first something-like a recital. Keep going, sweetheart. Everybody’s gonna listen, you’ll see. Vance sighed, brushed his hair back. “Yeah, just - music. I want to make it, and share it with people. That’s what it’s for.”

If you could travel anywhere, where would you go?

“It’d be warm, I’ll tell you that. Can’t handle the cold. Bad for playing in.” He flexed his hands, callused - by steel strings, sure, but busting out license plates, too, nowadays. “Warm. But, like… nice, you know?” A kind of heat that wasn’t so brutally bright, so strong that it’d crush the breath from your chest. Not that thick, sticky sort of warmth he’d grown up in. “Somewhere with real beaches. Soft sand for miles… I mean, California’s great and all, but… gets crowded, man.”

What is one thing that makes you different than anyone else?

“Ah… shit, give me a minute, there…” Experience made him sound like an asshole, didn’t it? Everybody was out there experiencing, all the time. Just, maybe, when it came to the sort of experience people sang about - how many of them had lived all of that? Especially these young things, coming up. Young things. Christ almighty, when did he get old? “I, uh - I’ve done this before. All of it, I’m… I’m doing it again, my second go around.” He nodded, took a deep, steadying sort of breath. “That’s the dream, at least, just… this time, I’m gonna do it my way. Like Frankie said.” Just like that.

                                               IV. BACKSTAGE

BEHIND THE MUSIC:

Vance, he could charm the birds from their trees, the girls right out of their bedroom windows - some of the guys as well, even if it was just their eyes saying so. All it took was a few chords off that beat-up guitar, a couple songs, that crooked smile. He had a certain style, and a sound, but… did he have what it took, to make it big? On his own, he might never have had the confidence to go chasing stars. But he had the boys, pulling him along in their twanging, roaring wake: fellow odd-one-outs around their little town, thick as thieves. There was the frontman, The Fortunate Son, howling himself hoarse out where he could strut his stuff and drink in the crowd. The drummer, The Peace Train - he hit things, hit ‘em at the right time, despite the metric shit-ton of weed he burned through. Their bassman, The Hard-core Troubadour, he didn’t have tricky fingers, but he had rhythm. That’d do. At least, when you had Vance handling the fancy slides and such.

They called themselves the Diamondbacks. Sounded badass, and upscale. So the argument went. Vance, he didn’t see much need to be any of that. That frontman had a way of convincing people, though. Vance, especially. Those heady summer days, passing a joint around by the river, made it real easy to see the light. Their music was good, and it was something else, part of that swell of southern rock n’ roll sound. Those songs they knocked around could be in. Just had to make sure the right people heard them.

First, the Diamondbacks had to get the hell out of Pine Bluff. As soon as possible. None of those boys had any real reason to stick around, no roots they weren’t ready to sever. Vance, he was still missing his mother, her car t-boned by a drunk the spring after she got him that third-hand Fender he lugged over to every practice. His father, he kept a closer eye on the beers in his fridge than he did on his son. But Mr. deLery made sure his boy knew how to take a punch. Did he ever. When the band finally rode off into the sunset, Vance was nursing a broken nose in the backseat - God, though, he’d never laughed so hard. Fuck the whole state. They were going to California.

Beyond there, the plan got a bit hazy. The financing, especially. None of them had much more than a crumpled pocketful of savings. That and a few bucks here and there from gigs was enough to squeak by on, but they hadn’t come all that way to squeak. They wanted to shine. That took cash, though; for new shirts, new drumsticks, the occasional haircut. And the drinking. And the dope, which flowed pretty freely in the big city. The Diamondbacks needed cash on their way to the top. As usual, that singer figured out the answer. He’d met a guy who could use some people. A real cool guy, into real cool things. Like acid, pills, heroin. Just needed a hand moving a little something, now and then, here and there. Vance didn’t like it, but. The Fortunate Son, the tightest friend he’d ever had, was telling him how they were going to save their band. So, Vance listened. It’d be okay, he got promised. It’d be better than okay.

And soon, it was. That cool guy had cool friends, as it turned out, and those cool friends had cool parties. After showing up at a few of those, the Diamondbacks were reading over a record deal, signing on the dotted line. The rest, as they say, is history. There was a promising first album, then, quickly, a record-smashing second, and a third that the radio just loved. Then, trouble. That fourth record spun apart as the band got lost in being bigshots. Vance, never as comfortable being the centre of attention as The Fortunate Son, never as incredibly high as The Peace Train, never as cool and collected as The Hardcore Troubadour, could feel himself burning away in the limelight. He drank to sleep, snorted to wake up. Started to find other things to do, in between. The pressure made him jittery, on and off the stage, and it didn’t help any that that cool friend kept calling. The guy didn’t like to hear no. Said he had strings to pull, if he had to. Going on tour was just such a swell method of distribution, and the money didn’t hurt the band any, did it? The Fortunate Son wasn’t worried. So, Vance tried not to be. He really did.

It all went to hell so fast. One day, they were on top of the fuckin’ world. Next, everybody was going down for possession, intent to distribute. Everybody, or somebody. So said the lawyer The Fortunate Son’s panicked parents had called in. They wanted to make an example, here. One would do. A sacrifice, for the rest of the band, but. With good behaviour, out in no time. Vance would do it. Right? Vance could give the judge those big doe eyes, get off easy. A nice cushy stint in county. It’d be nothing, and the rest of them, they’d fix up that album and keep going, for his sake. Then he’d be back, soon, and… The Fortunate Son, he was half-hysterical. All Vance could say was yes. For his best friend, for the band. It’d be nothing.

Only, that lawyer wasn’t so good as he figured he was. Vance was thrown a dime and a half in San Quentin, a week shy of his twenty-second birthday. Example made.

The band visited, for a while. Prison wasn’t kind, but Vance, he’d grown up keeping his head down. Withdrawal didn’t make it easier. Neither did the visits, honestly. Watching the band break down, from the outside - that stung. That was his life, what he took this long, long fall for. Gone. The days blurred together, a smear of grey concrete, grey food, grey sheets, and the odd, red burst of blood. He watched his hands, playing his way through old songs every night, tapping his fingers on nothing. Listened to the radio, when they allowed - catching the chords, guessing at the picking patterns. All he had to do was stick it out, survive. There’d be music on the other side.

Turns out that all his good, good behaviour would count for something - a few reductions, then, parole. After he hitch-hiked his way to Los Angeles, Vance started strumming along the boardwalks and street corners to make ends meet. He’d lost a decade, of playing, of living; rusty, roughed up, and altogether alone in the world, he had nowhere to go and nobody to see there. Didn’t even have that old Fender. But he could clean himself up and slip into bars and music stores, pick up a guitar, and earn a few coins. Just a week shy of his last pointless parole meeting, he was pulled aside for a proposal. A band, not just some crew of up and comers but a big deal, needed a guitarist, a singer. A replacement. Maybe they weren’t his style, but - could he do it? For the money to keep himself clean, sure. They didn’t seem to have caught on to that criminal record, but that was years ago; the Diamondbacks, and the scandal that snapped them apart, were just about forgotten. All the better for Vance. For the past two years he’s been doing what Indigo Dusk pays him to do, and not much more. This isn’t his band. It’s not his music. He bears them no ill will - he’s grateful, of course, for the chance - but he doesn’t feel at home with them, doesn’t get too personal. Vance is well aware he’s just filling a space onstage, and if he’s honest with himself, he’s not playing his best for them. But, very, very quietly, over the last few months or so, he’s started to slip out to open mic nights around Los Angeles. Nothing too big. Doesn’t want to trouble that contract, obviously… but he can feel it, the quaking in the foundation of this band he’s hitched himself to. They’re going the same way The Diamondbacks did, or something like it, anyway. And that asides, he misses making music that felt like his. Maybe The Diamondbacks weren’t that, either. But he’s out looking for his own sound, now, and if the audiences are any indication, he’s starting to find it…

                                                   V. ENCORE

Let’s start with a PINTEREST! https://www.pinterest.ca/jraphicpark/vance/

HEADCANON time!

Vance got his musical talent, and then some, from his mother - a music teacher. She realized early that her boy had spectacular pitch, listening to him plink along with radio tunes on her piano. He can do more than that now, but hasn’t let the rest of Indigo Dusk in on the fact. They’ve got somebody on the keys, don’t need him. And it hurts to play, in some ways. Piano was his mom’s music, her sound, and it brings back a hell of a lot of memories. 

He can also pick something pretty out on the banjo, and knows his way around a classic diatonic harmonica. Picked that one up in prison; being able to keep folks entertained has always served Vance well, even in his worst days. 

At this point, he’s mostly playing covers for the cafe and bar crowds; but Vance is slowly, surely, starting to throw in a tune or two of his own. It’s not just his sound that’s drawing people in, either. When he warms up, past a certain natural shyness, Vance has this unpretentious, genuine way about him, a self-deprecating kind of humour that sneaks in between songs. It keeps them listening, even if his music isn’t perhaps the kind of thing that’s hitting it big on the airwaves these days.

Though nobody was throwing those words around in 1973, Vance is what we’d call dyslexic and dysgraphic - meaning, very broadly, that he struggles to read and write. It’s not something he has an explanation for, and the ones given to him by teachers and schoolmates weren’t kind. He’s been treated like he’s not terribly smart, or like he’s lazy, or both, since he was a kid. Neither’s true, but he’s still sensitive about it, and tries to hide this fact as much as possible. People already tend to judge him quickly thanks to the backwoodsy accent. It’s not fair, but Vance knows the world isn’t like that. So he just gets on by, as best he can.

And then, obviously, a PLAYLIST! I’ll just list the songs, because I don’t have a proper Spotify set up (shocking, I know). Hope it’s okay that some of these are modern. Vance typically played electric with the Diamondbacks, in their more rock n’ roll style (think CCR, Lynyrd Skynyrd); left to his own devices, he prefers an acoustic sound heavy on the finger-picking. He’s got a genuine gift for that kind of playing, very much a van Zandt kind of talent. His voice, usually background to The Fortunate Son’s in the Diamondback days, actually has a decent range - soft highs to a bit of old country growl.

Highway Kind - Townes van Zandt Little Boy - Barns Courtney

Feel Alright - Steve Earle

Built to Roam - Shakey Graves

Leaving On A Jet Plane - John Denver

Deep Dark Wells - Joe Pug

Folsom Prison Blues - Johnny Cash

My Poor Heart - The Glorious Sons

Satan and St. Paul - John Fullbright I’m Not a Saint - Billy Raffoul

Wasteland - X Ambassadors

Tearing At the Seams - Nathaniel Rateliff & the Night Sweats

And I Love You So - Don McLean

Everything Is Alright - The Glorious Sons

Unknown Legend - Shakey Graves

Bright Beginnings - Joe Pug

Lungs - Townes van Zandt

Don’t Take Your Guns to Town - Johnny Cash

History - X Ambassadors

Take Me Home, Country Roads - John Denver

Unlucky Skin - Shakey Graves

Meet Me in the Alleyway - Steve Earle

Panic Attack - The Glorious Sons

American Pie - Don McLean

Still Trying - Nathaniel Rateliff

And for a few more things, here’s some tidbits about the (ex)band, so far as wanted connections might go! Names and Titles are flexible. Faceclaims would be totally up to player, probably in the 32-37 age range.  

THE FORTUNATE SON

The oddest one out, back in Pine Bluff and the band, this character grew up as the spoiled and rebellious child of the biggest bigwigs that little town had to offer. Maybe he’s a Somebody, a country crooner or a real rockstar. Maybe he’s become a Power, staring down the kind of up and comer he used to be across a nice, expensive desk. Is he happy, now? Was it worth it? Who’s to say.

THE PEACE TRAIN

The roving spirit of the bunch, the real hippie, off in la-la land, ready to fire up a fat one the moment they left the stage. You could say that for this character - he loved the music, and couldn’t stand to see it compromised. He was a cheerleader, always ready to shove the rest of the band back on their feet and get the show on the road, eternally the sunny, can-do optimist. The weed probably helped with that, but still. Vance wound up moving plenty of product for him alone, back in the day. Now? Who knows he’s up to.

THE HARD-CORE TROUBADOUR

Once the bassist of The Diamondbacks, this character was always a hard-headed, take-no-shit sonofabitch. But he got shit done. While The Fortunate Son dreamed big and tried to smile and schmooze his way to what he wanted, The Hard-core Troubadour put in the thinking and paperwork that made stuff happen. He spent much of the friendship - and the band - frustrated. Vance was often the one who had to try and gentle things out between people, usually this stubborn bastard and their bombastic, self-righteous frontman. He might have moved on to another band, but it’s just as likely that he left music behind for managing or mixing at one of the labels.

[atelierfresh]

THE POTTINGER HOTEL | A Tasteful Escape to Colonialism with Breakfast at Gradini Ristorante E Bar Italiano

MODERN CLASS. When my girl, Ketty Shan, told me she was finally visiting the city again, I knew we had to do it right! Stop, Pause, Break & Rewind! We are so glad we made it to The Pottinger Hotel to get the best out of Hong Kong, in all its richness, classiness and history! If I were to call time to stop again, it’d be here!

Pottinger Greetings

Tucked in the bustling vibes of Central, this hotel is the best to get the full immersion of Colonial Hong Kong during your short stay. With the historic Pottinger Street (Stone Slabs Street) running alongside it, and expats and white collars scurrying around its Neo-classic entrance, this was the perfect place for Ketty, who was coming back to the city for only a 2 day stay to sort out her errands.

We were so lucky to be welcomed by beautiful sunshine during the weekend and formally greeted by the very generous Hotel Manager, Gina Tam, as well as all the smiling staff. The lobby was brightly lit with soft tones of neutrals, and antique gold inlays of Art Deco lines and marbles finishings contrasted with the stone slabs outside.

Lobby with lavished with classic furnishing for casual sitting and enjoyment of the animated streets behind. With the large glazing and beautiful weather, I would have loved to enjoy the space as a perfect sunroom with a book, if it wasn’t situated in such a public realm of the hotel.

Ketty is one of my favourite girls, with so much life! We worked together back in 10Design, one of those fancy funky architectural design firms in Hong Kong. Leaving the city a year ago to work in Kuala Lumpur, she’s much more super free spirited than I am.

Breakfast was waiting! With light layering of make up, and a toss of hair, my girl is ready for breakfast. She’s got the French in her that I can only adore and admire but never possess. Lots to learn, lots to learn Janet. The only culture I have, is maple syrup.

The Gradini Ristorante

If there was one thing I loved the most about this hotel was its casual luxury - the Gradini Ristorante was a perfect emblem of this perfection. In soft pastel greens and pale neutrals, the decor of the restaurant took me out of the concrete city and back into our colonial days, our richer and cultured times. Beautiful animated wallpapers, with birds perched on peaceful white branches, were captured in white detailed wooden frames. These frames manifested itself in its glass panes and high ceiling details. Very detailed yet passive artistry of work. A beautiful feminine collison of European and Oriental aesthetics. 

We got the perfect seat in the far left corner, looking out over the trees I never notice existed in the glassy Central. The breakfast was a choice between the Continental or the Pottinger Breakfast set, both inclusive of a sumptuous salad bar with fresh fruits and yoghurt and oats. Ketty obviously needed her croissants and I needed my sausages and eggs. I could never say no to meat.

The morning was quiet here and I could spend hours here savouring the moment and refreshments while watching people below. Around us were other hotel guests, mainly European or American couples who rushed off into their day soon after the meal. I had no plans to rush anywhere, and Ketty only had to meet her banker before noon. We definitely spent out time nicely, pigging out and laughing ourselves to tears. Mainly laughing at how obsessive we were at taking the right photos of our breakfast, but also a lot of catching up on life. It’s been almost six months seeing this girl, and I am so proud of where she is in life! We’ve both really come so far, it was definitely great to come share it with each other!

The Peaceful Staycation

Our Deluxe Room was perfect as well, embracing all that the city could give. The soft curve glass at the corner window was highly animated, with the reflections of the glass skyscrapers around us, the moving traffic below, and soft diffused sunlight that stayed through the day. With Chinese-inspired decor and wall finishings, the soft room interiors gave me the comfort and peace to return to my zen. Studio Anetta was the interior designer for this hotel. Home away from home. A bubble to jump into to stare out into the city - to be a spectator amidst the noise. This holiday treat came to me at perfect timing! 

I assure you, these beds looked much better when we first entered the room!  This is the best attempt of remaking the bed setup after they had been sleep in. The night lighting after we checked-in was too dim for photoshooting. The cute round cushions were perfect to hold as we watched TV in bed and the wall scounces mimicked Chinese paper lanterns. The decor truly looked effortlessly tasteful and refined.

The Hotel Manager was terribly sweet, and welcomed us not only in person but also with card greetings and digital greetings scattered throughout the room. The staff were all very cute and kind as well, very unique to this boutique hotel.  The experience was so personal and so loving, something so different than the world outside the glass windows. Don’t we all miss this kind of loving and kindness? To receive this in the cold busy Hong Kong definitely got me all warm and fuzzy. 

While Ms. Ketty left for the bank, I returned back into the room to finally wind down after some rough times at work. A book, a camera, and some music - that‘s all I needed to get my energies and soul back straight. Some of you might have resonance with me in some sort of way. Because I found myself holding the book like a poser, barely reading it, just drifting off into nothingness. With brain levels still on high and vibrating in tense frequency from workdays, I am only a paralysed corpse on days returned to myself.

I must have zoned out quite a lot, because I forgot what happened with the time, very soon my Tahitian sunshine came back already to spend the rest of the afternoon in silly giggles and girly poses with me. 

If our breakfast wasn’t already full from the scrumptious salad bar, the hungry hippos we are, we’d already feast ourselves at the colourful fruit bowl that came into our hotel room. Bananas, kiwis, apples and dragon fruit!

The Girlcave Bath!

If men had a mancave, this would be my girlcave.

I always had a thing for beautiful washrooms since I was a child. Growing up, my parent’s had the most luxurious jacuzzi in their master bathroom. Double height with skylights, the jacuzzi became my favourite reading lounge as a child and it remained a great memory of mine. The bathroom at the Pottinger Hotel gave me back many wonderful flashbacks - it was a space to be enjoyed.

It would be a dream that one day I had a large bathroom again like this to spend an afternoon in. Imagine a quiet bubble bath, with light scents of light bergamot, a lemon drink and a soft acoustic music. Until then, it’d just remain a reality for days I could afford a staycation. I’ll remember you Potting Bathtub - your large marble vanity tops and the natural lighting piercing through the sides of your mirror… Love !

A Comfort to Remember

Like all good things must come to an end, Ketty had to leave and I had to bury myself back into work. We are so grateful for the time well-spent here. For me, it was a chance to get to experience Hong Kong in a humble sumptuous manner. For Ketty, it provided a swarm of experiences being in the centre of action and vibrance. The hotel is one worth revisiting and definitely one worth recommending to anyone: young couples, older couples, bachelorette parties, anniversary getaways, friendly getaways, or just an individual staycation! Its beautiful decor, yet not so overwhelming that takes you off the edge.

Humble staff that releases you off your guard. It was a hotel that made me feel at home and at ease. Truly a gem in Hong Kong and has yet to be recognised even further!

Thank you to the hotel and all its staff, especially Gina Tam for the amazing hospitality!

[soybeantree]

be careful what you wish for

excerpt: “’Are you feeling alright, hyung?“ JB asked, eying her. Hyung? Why was he calling her, hyung? “Like I said we’re leaving in 10 minutes. You need to be ready.” He eyed her again before walking back out, closing the door behind him. What the hell was going on? She ran a hand threw her hair and nearly screamed. Her hair was gone! She jumped out of the bed and nearly tumbled over. Her body felt awkward, and she had to focus on moving her legs as she made her way to the bathroom. She flicked on the light, and this time she did scream. “What the-” She clamped a hand over her mouth. That wasn’t her voice. That wasn’t her face staring back at her. Hyung made sense now. JB only had one Hyung in Got7. Mark.” 

pairing: erm…ofc/mark, ofc/jinyoung, markjin…kind of  parts: o2 | o3 | o4 | o5 | epilogue genre/rating: LITERALCRACK! fluff. word count: 2k a/n: we aren’t lying when we say this is utter crack. these stupid ideas come to us usually while drinking at a pei wei or something. we spent wayyyy too much time talking about it to not write something out. so we apologize in advance. also, these wonderful markjin gifs are not ours. also for ease, all things italics are in korean and non are english. 

Meat sizzled on the grill, and the sight and sound set Jay’s mouth watering. Of all the things she and her best friend Dee had planned to do on their trip to South Korea, eating at a BBQ had been at the top of her list. And now here they were surrounded by sides and waiting for their meat to cook. She couldn’t believe they had waited so long for the experience or understand why they had wanted to wait till they were in Seoul. Busan probably also had great BBQ. They could have had it there and in Seoul. They could have had it everywhere they visited.

Dee turned the meat, releasing another waft of scent. “Would you please stop staring at the meat like that?” Dee sighed.

“Like what?”

“Like it’s Jinyoung and you want to sex it up.” Jay snorted and looked away, trying to stop herself from laughing. When she faced her friend again, she saw that the girl had also had to compose herself.

Dee cleared her throat, removing the last traces of laughter from her face. “You act like we’ve never been to a Korean BBQ before.”

“We’ve never been to a Korean BBQ in Korea before.” Jay quipped back. 

“No, but I doubt that they prepare the food that differently here than back home.”

“No, but the ambiance is different here.” Dee rolled her eyes deciding not to argue the point; instead, she flipped the meat to check if it was ready. It was. She and Jay loaded up their plates and devoured the meat and the sides. 

“I’m so full.” Jay rubbed her aching stomach. “I’d say I shouldn’t have eaten so much, but there was no stopping myself.”

Dee nodded in agreement. “It’s okay. We can walk it off.” 

After paying and thanking their hosts for the excellent meal, the two set off. Their destination was Cheonggyecheon Stream, and it’s 22 bridges. It was dusk when they started out, so they were able to enjoy the light shows that illuminated the water falls. Jay insisted upon skipping across every set of stone steps they encountered while Dee diligently waited for her friend. “You realize you’re not a child, right?” Dee asked after Jay’s third skipping trip.

“I may not look like one on the outside, but on the inside, I’m really five years old.” She laughed while Dee shook her head. 

They walked a little ways further when Jay’s eyes went wide. “What is it?” Dee asked, noticing her friend’s excitement.

“It’s Palseokdam Pond.” She squealed rushing forward. Dee glanced around, smiling apologetically at the bystanders before taking off after her friend.

“What’s so exciting about Palseokdam Pond?”

“First, it’s made from eight stones gathered from eight provinces in Korea, and second, it has a wishing well.” Jay indicated the odd cone spiral located a few feet from the edge of the walk way. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have a wish to make.” There was a thin jut of concrete closer to the wishing well, and that was where Jay decided to situate herself. Anxiety rumbled through Dee as she watched her friend balance on the outcropping and aim her coin. She could just imagine her losing her balance and falling in the river. But Jay kept her footing as she threw the coin. It sailed through the air and sunk perfectly in the center of the cone. 

“Don’t jump!” Dee warned before her friend could get over-excited about her accomplishment. 

“I’m not going to fall into the pond.”

“You don’t know that.” Dee helped her friend back onto the main pathway. “This is the start of the river walk right?” Jay nodded as she settled onto the pathway.

“Yeah, we started at the end, but I don’t think it really matters how you walk it.”

“I meant since we’re at the beginning, and there is nowhere else to walk we should probably head back to the hotel.” Jay ‘oh-ed’ and nodded her head. They took a bus back to the hotel, and Jay decided to take a shower. They had spent the first half of the day traveling and the later half exploring Seoul. She felt disgusting. Dee had taken a shower when they first got to the hotel, so the girl simply changed and climbed into bed. 

Coming out of the bathroom, Jay found her propped up on pillows scrolling through her phone. Plopping on the opposite side of the bed, Jay ran a brush through her hair.

“What do you want to do tomorrow before the concert?” Dee asked. Got7’s concert was the highlight of their trip which was why they had planned their trip with it on the last night of their stay in South Korea. However, the concert wasn’t till the evening, leaving them a whole day of exploring.

“I’d really like to go to Cheongdam-dong, see the studios, see the stores, obviously not buy anything because we’re poor AF, but I think it’d still be fun to-” She paused as a wave of vertigo washed over her.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I think our hard days of travel are catching up with me.”

“Get some sleep. I’m good with Cheongdam-dong.” Jay nodded climbing under the covers. She passed out before her head even touched the pillow.

~ ~ ~

“Hyung! Hyung!” The shouts were accompanied by an obnoxious pounding, and Jay wanted to kill both the Hyung and the person pounding. It was far too early for this much noise, and her head echoed with each pound. She couldn’t remember much after they came back to the hotel, but she was certain she hadn’t done anything to account for the ache in her head. 

“Dee, Dee.” She groaned, wondering why the girl wasn’t up and growling at the noise maker. Her friend had a much lower tolerance and the gumption to do something about it.

She received no response, so she reached behind her to nudge the girl. Before she could find her the noise stopped. Jay breathed a sigh of relief and left her friend alone ready to return to sleep.

The door to the room swung open with a bang, and Jay nearly jumped out of the bed. “Whaaaa!” She screeched, grabbing the nearest thing she could find and chunking it at the intruder. The pillow fell short of its target who stood in the doorway staring at her.

“Hyung, we have to leave in 10 minutes. Why are you still sleeping?” The entire sentence was uttered in Korean, and it took a moment for the words to register in her drowsy mind.

“Hyung?” She managed to reply. Lights flared on, and she threw her hands over her face to protect her eyes. As they adjusted, she could make out the blurry figure of the intruder walking towards the bed. She grabbed her remaining pillow. “Dee.” She hissed but heard no reply. She looked to her left and found no blurry image of her friend. Fear rose in her throat. The intruder was closing in, and she clutched her pillow tighter ready to attack.

The intruder was in striking distance. She rolled onto her knees, raised her pillow, and froze, her eye sight clearing. “JB?” The pillow fell limp in her arms as she stared at the idol. “Why are you in my hotel room?” The words came out in a husky English, and she cleared her throat, wracking her brain for how to formulate the sentence in Korean.

“Are you feeling alright, hyung?” JB asked, eyeing her. Hyung? Why was he calling her, hyung? “Like I said we’re leaving in 10 minutes. You need to be ready.” He eyed her again before walking back out, closing the door behind him.

Jay rocked back on her heels. What the hell was going on? She ran a hand threw her hair and nearly screamed. Her hair was gone! She jumped out of the bed and nearly tumbled over. Her body felt awkward, and she had to focus on moving her legs as she made her way to the bathroom. She flicked on the light, and this time she did scream.

“What the-” She clamped a hand over her mouth. That wasn’t her voice. That wasn’t her face staring back at her. Hyung made sense now. JB only had one Hyung in Got7. Mark.

Mark stared out of the mirror at her. Mark moved his arm when she moved her’s. Mark’s mouth opened when she opened hers. “What’s going on?” Mark’s voice asked.

She glanced down at her flat chest, long arms, and lean legs. No wonder she couldn’t walk. How could this boy walk on these tooth picks? She picked up her foot and wiggled it. Something else wiggled when she moved. She clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. When she looked back in the mirror, Mark’s face was bright red.

Removing her hand from her mouth, she took a deep breath. She raised her hand, and as hard as possible slapped herself. The sting brought tears to her eyes, and she watched the blood swell in Mark’s cheek. Nope, she wasn’t dreaming. She was currently in Mark Tuan’s body, and she had just slapped Mark Tuan’s face. “I’m so sorry, Mark. Wait. Mark are you in here.” She eyed the face in the mirror watching for any twitch or indication that she was not the only one in the body. It didn’t feel like anyone else was in the body, but then she didn’t know what it would feel like to share a body with someone. 

“Mark-hyung, are you ready?” Jackson. That was Jackson’s voice. She would recognize it anywhere. Jackson was here and JB and probably all the other boys, and they thought she was Mark because she was in Mark’s body. Her head started to throb again. “Hyung.”

“Just a minute!” Jay called back in Korean. She took a steadying breath. Freaking out would not solve the situation, only make it worse. She needed to calm down and formulate a plan, but first she had to get ready. She didn’t need Got6 breathing down her neck as she tried to figure out what was going on.

She walked back into what she realized was Mark’s room. The boys had really come up in the world. Their new dorm was nice, but there was no time to dwell on that. She marched towards the closet and pulled out a pair of jeans, a shirt, and a hoodie. It probably wasn’t the most fashionable ensemble, but it would have to do.

Throwing the clothes on the bed, she lifted the hem of her shirt and froze. She was about to undress Mark Tuan. Dee would kill her. Not really, but she did feel like she was betraying her friend. There was no way around it though. She had to change. Mark couldn’t go wherever he was going in the clothes he slept in.

She kept her eyes closed throughout the changing process and refused to change the boxers. That was a line she wouldn’t cross.

“Hyung!” She jumped as all the blood drained out of her face. That was Jinyoung’s voice. She edged towards the door and cracked it open. Jinyoung stood on the other side, hands on his hips. “Are you ready?” Jay nodded and slipped out the door, clicking it shut behind her.

Her eyes never left Jinyoung. He was even more beautiful in person. She just wanted to touch him, and she could. She was Mark after all. Mark probably touched Jinyoung all the time. But before she could test her theory, Jinyoung was walking away. He reached the end of the hall and glanced back at her. “Are you coming?”

Jay shook her head and strode after him. The rest of the members were waiting for them in the living room, and the live sight of Got6 left Jay breathless and in fear of passing out.

“Everyone’s here.” Someone Jay didn’t recognize said. “Let’s go.“ The seven were ushered out of the dorm and downstairs to a waiting car.

part 2 -> 

[citybythebayvisions]

Tuesday, September 21st, 1993

The rich colors of the evening sun hadn’t yet fully dimmed to pitch black but the switch had already been tugged, allowing the bright white and hot pink neon to shoot through the tubes twisted to mold the shape of a skate. Protruding out over the sidewalk, the most colorful sign on this otherwise dull stretch of San Pablo Avenue reached out to the Tuesday night drivers from any of Oakland’s many directions, a giant arrow inviting them to come on in to the building below and try out a new set of teal wheels for a little while. Whereas most of the other drivers paid no mind and continued to their predetermined destinations of work, home, and anywhere that might be in-between, it was the glowing magnet that attracted Lance Kelley’s scouring eyes. 

There it is!

He could wipe off the sweat that started to accumulate somewhere after 27th Street. San Pablo wasn’t as familiar to him as it probably should’ve been given that it started within walking distance to McClymonds, but he found that there wasn’t much reason to hang around. Besides for the corner store whose wings was five star cuisine in comparison to McClymonds’ cafeteria food with the cashiers who didn’t give as much of a shit as they should’ve about cigarette and alcohol carding, the only thing this strip had to offer was this row of autobody shops for all of the other kids who’d fucked up their parent’s car. He’d passed at least four of them by now, because this street had wound up being a much longer haul than he initially considered. Lance left at 6:30, hoping he’d have at least a good fifteen minutes to spare in the parking lot collecting his festering nerves, but everyone and their great-great-great grandmother in this neighborhood were crawling along like snails tonight. Only the other cars in front of him and his lack of knowledge about where this place was at stopped him from turning these worn out streets into the Indy 500 by slamming his foot on the gas and flooring it the entire way. With the minute hand on his watch inching uncomfortably close to the 7, Lance cursed himself for not taking the expressway around. 

Flicking the lightweight lever with his finger at first break, the flashing blinker broke the line of solid red tail lights before abandoning the lane entirely as he jerked the steering wheel into the parking lot, sharp movements turning smooth as the tires steadily rolled down the decline and straight into the vacant parking space. A calmness came over him as he moved the gear up to its resting place and lifted his foot from the brake; for the second this car stopped, the race to find this place, the race to this night and the race to find her, did too. 

No more waiting, no more dreaming, no more living in Saturday night. I’m finally here.

He turned the ignition off and leaned back in the seat, the breath of relief exhaling from his lungs unable to settle for long before his mind found another track to race around. 

Is tonight going to be the same?

No, no...obviously not. 

It’s going to be so much BETTER. 

For one thing, his car wasn’t going to break down again ‘cause he’d lucked out majorly. Eric was off tonight and his car was practically new. The Pizza Hut sign was off the top and it was just sitting there all alone, just waiting for someone to drive it...

Deep down, Lance knew it truly didn’t matter what ride he pulled up in. It didn’t matter to her on Saturday night when she jumped in that huge, ugly, brown box of his dad’s and didn’t seem to care but…God, Eric’s car was so cool, waaaaaay cooler than what he was originally going to take. Everything about the hatchback Lance was two seconds and six steps away from getting into suddenly seemed incredibly lame and juvenile in comparison because it was his mom’s car. It wasn’t supposed to be fun, it wasn’t supposed to be sporty, it wasn’t supposed to be cool like what was parked on the other side of the iron fence: the car with the particular shade of what Lance could only describe as ‘arrest me red’ because it was the exact color of cop lights. The car that had a sharp spoiler and teal LEDs on the radio that controlled the kick ass sound system that could leave your entire body buzzing for weeks after. The car with tinted windows darker than night and a name that just fired off the tongue like Z24 ...

It’s the car I had to have. 

Fortunately, it didn’t take much to convince Eric to throw him the keys once he answered the furious rapping being inflicted upon his back door.  “Date. Dee. Car. Please?” barely sputtered out of Lance’s mouth before he found himself playing wide receiver. That’s all it took. It wasn’t his first time borrowing this thing, but it was going to be new to her...

Maybe it’ll make her forget how much of an embarrassing loser I was last time because that was just a giant fucking disaster. At least I took my Ritalin already so I won’t be as much of a spitfire mess...but she liked that about me! We were really having some great conversations the other night before it all went south. She said I was “fun to listen to”, for God’s sake! FUN TO LISTEN TO! When else have I ever been told that by a girl? N-e-v-e-r. That is the best compliment I’ve ever gotten from anyone, so I absolutely cannot fuck it up and bore her to death by not talking a million miles a minute. I shouldn’t have taken it, but---yeah NO. What the fuck am I saying?! The zoning out freaked her out too much! I looked like such a loopy fucking airhead and I can’t have that either. Saturday night  was bad enough...God, why am I thinking about this?! I’m just freaking myself out even more! I’ve gotta get out of this stupid car...

Ripping the key out of the ignition and stepping out, he slipped the set down into his back jean pocket as he stood up. As he shut the door behind him, he took a minute to look around the lot just in case she was waiting out here again...only to find a few other cars and a dumpster. 

Man...she sure is elusive. 

Out of the three days that had passed since they’d last seen each other, two of them were spent at school and yet they never stumbled into each other in the McClymonds maze. All he wanted was something simple like a quick locker conversation or even just passing her in the hallway...anything to see her again before tonight. Instead, his neck was a little sore from craning it in the hallways, seeing every other student in that school’s face but hers. It was silly, but it was starting to mess with his head a little, like he was searching for something that was never truly there to begin with. 

It’s messing with my head enough to fuck with my common sense, apparently. There’s no way she should loiter around this dark and shady parking lot.  I don’t even like being out here! C’mon...she’s gotta be inside. 

That was enough of an incentive to provide an energy boost for him to spring up the concrete incline. Once he reached the entrance he didn’t even break to catch his breath, he just swung open the door and...whoa.

There she stood, leaning casually against the wall in her red top and tight black shorts with boots that made her legs look a mile long…

She looks incredible…

The shuffling sounds lifted Deirdre up from fidgeting with her nails, her entire face lighting up when she saw who’d entered. “Heeey!”

“H-hey!” He stammered out of his trance and walked closer.  “You look really great! Really, uh... you wear my favorite color really well.” 

“I know,” Deirdre muttered under her breath, trying to mask the burn in her cheeks with a smirk as she teasingly poked him in the chest, “Thanks. You wear mine really well too.” 

“Really?” Lance looked down, only to find that her finger landed right smack dab in between the top of the large stenciled film leader 4 that was printed in white and the black fabric of the rest of today’s t-shirt, “Which one?” 

Thinking that he was asking which shirt, she responded, “The Ride The Lightning one with the purple. I love that color.” 

Oh! No wonder I keep associating it with her. 

He nodded, “That’s what I thought! I guess maybe you already told me…”

“I dunno, I don’t think so,” She shrugged, “You look great in this one. Black’s your color too.”

I wasn’t even trying to...I just pulled it out of the dryer! 

Now Lance was the one sporting a slight tint of red on his cheeks, “Thanks! I’m uh...really glad you like it.” 

“You’re welcome.”

Though silence momentarily fell, the air was filled with an anxious energy; both of them looking down and away from each other, fidgeting their fingers and shuffling their feet while waiting to see who would ask the question first. Obviously, the next move was to head into the rink but…

What if it isn’t? 

What if she doesn’t want to do that yet? I mean, we ARE technically still in the middle of a conversation...but...is there really anything left to say about it? I don’t think so, but I don’t know. Does she want me to say something else? Or is she waiting for me to go inside? Man, I wish she’d just say something...

But she didn’t and the longer the seconds dragged on, the more apparent that second option became to him, “So should we...uh…” He was reduced to a mere hand gesture to the door upon feeling her eyes on him again. 

“Yeah!” Deirdre replied, her confidence faltering some when she realized how forceful and uncool that sounded, “Well like...only if you want to anyway.” 

“Well yeah, of course. That’s why I’m here…” Lance’s brow furrowed some at her choice of words, “Why wouldn’t I? Is there something behind that door that’s gonna kill me if I go in?” 

She scoffed at the silliness, but couldn’t resist asking, “Like what?” 

Oh, it was just a hypothetical question but...really...what the hell would have to be behind there? It’d have to be something straight out of a horror movie, like…

“I don’t know...some kind of crazy slasher skater, I guess?”

Deirdre leaned forward to be certain she was hearing this correctly, “A slasher skater?” 

“Yeah! Why not? I mean, think about it...you’ve got wheels so, if you’re the slasher, you can get away easy and nobody outside could hear any screams or anything ‘cause of the music and I don’t think there’s too many people around anyway so it’d discreet enough for us not to notice out here...” Lance crossed his arms, but was shaking his head slightly with every word that tumbled out.  

What the hell am I doing?! This is ludicrous...I had an in! We could be inside and probably skating already if I kept my mouth shut! Fuck! Stop! 

Yet Deirdre kept prodding, “Let me get this straight...so what you’re saying that inside that door is some Jason Voorhees weirdo waiting for us to get on the rink so he can skate up and slash us to death?” 

“Well geez, now that you say it, it sounds kinda gruesome...but yeah. I guess. ”  

“Hey, yooou’re the one who brought it up,” She dramatically dragged her voice out like she was defending herself against something actually accusatory, crossing her arms too as her back laid fully against the wall, “It doesn’t matter though ‘cause the joke’s on him. I’ll outskate his ass any day.”

Lance chuckled, but the reminder of his fate during this hypothetical situation zapped the humor out of his expression, turning his smile into nothing more than bared and lightly cringing teeth, “Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’d die out there.” 

“Why?” 

Shit... 

Even though Lance was well aware that this was inevitable, he didn’t want to admit it yet. It seemed silly, but it was pretty embarrassing coming here on a date and not being able to do the one thing this place was about, the only thing he was required to know.

Especially since she’s probably pretty good at it too. But I guess it’s better to say something now than risk embarrassing myself even further by slipping the second I get on the rink, which I know I’ll do anyway but at least she’ll know to expect it.

“Here’s the thing,” His deepening wince only made him feel worse, “I don’t know how to skate...” 

“Ohhh...”

He ran a hand through his hair as his eyes found the carpet mat again, “Yeah...I probably should’ve said that over the phone...” 

Why the hell didn’t I? It would’ve been better if she’d known off the bat! 

Deirdre sighed. There he went again, burning himself over the littlest things…

She turned to fully face him, smiling when he finally looked up at her, “Don’t worry about it, Lance. I'll everything you need to know! It’s easy, I swear.” 

“Really?” That perked the sheepishness out of him, “How easy?”

“E-Z.” She chuckled, “Come on, You’re safe with me.” 

Well I can’t deny that.

“Okay. Well...lead the way then!” 

Without any further ado, Deirdre swiftly turned and completed a wobbly step or two before stepping on the edge of one of the foyer’s raised tiles and her skyscraper stilt gave out under the pressure of her ankle. Lance’s eyes widened as he heard this crack sound accompany her swears as she tumbled and became one with the ground.

“Dee!” He rushed towards her, “Holy shit, are you okay?!” 

No! She’d embarrassed the shit out of herself!  But, through her clenched teeth that she bore to deal with the throbbing shock impacting her knee, she insisted, “I’m fine!” 

“You’re literally seething in pain!”

“I said I’m fine!” Deirdre straightened herself up on the floor and brought her knee up closer. It fucking smarted, but bruises were nothing new to her. She was pretty acquainted with the cold and hard tile of the rink where’d she learned to not be afraid of falling because there she expected it, not here!

It wasn’t a total surprise though. She was told about them...oh how she was warned. Alicia was gonna have a field day about this when she found out because she fucking said that they were too high even for her, but Deirdre didn’t want to listen because they looked and felt sooooooo cool. Fucking right! Now look! She was still on the floor, looking pathetic in front of Lance...

But the only appearance that Lance cared about was that bruise on her leg, the deep purple and blue coloring making him wince too. 

Geez...

It was pretty nasty looking, but it wasn’t as concerning as that sound her ankle made, which was too familiar to him from his own clumsy stunts.

It could’ve been just a pop, but shiiiit...I really hope it isn’t a sprain or something worse...

“Dee, c’mon...” He sighed, “That was a pretty loud crack. Are you sure you’re alright?”

She nodded slowly, “Yeah, it’s not broken or anything. It doesn’t even hurt that bad, I’ve just got a bad bruise,” Deirdre frowned and yanked the stupid boot off. Great. Now she couldn’t even be a damsel in distress...not like she wanted to be one, but it had more merit than sitting here on her ass looking like a stupid, ditzy, klutz.

“Oh thank God. I’m glad you’re okay. For a minute there I really thought you’d broken your ankle or something.”

The concern in his tone followed by the little relieved laugh of his broke through her stupid pride.  What the hell was she thinking?! Being upset about falling was really silly in comparison to that bigger picture. That would’ve killed the date before it could even begin...again and that would’ve been so much worse. Besides, there was really nothing to be embarrassed about. People trip! Why should she care?

“You know, I could’ve. It’s easy to do ‘cause you don’t really know what’s happening until BAM! You’re on the ground and totally reeling in it...” She yanked off the other shoe, snickering to herself when she held it up to him like a trophy, her prize of capitulation. “Guess that’s the end for these, eh?”

“Yeah, stilts aren’t for everyone. But better to be safe than sorry, right?” 

“Don’t I know it?” 

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I’m going to be doing a fair share of busting my ass on the floor in there. Looking like a fool is my thing.” His held his hand out to her and she pulled herself back on her feet, the warmth of the gesture and the feeling of the touch softening her typical daring smirk into a blushing smile as sweet as his own. They were finally in each other’s grasp and the surge of that feeling was so overpowering they barely could handle it, their nervous giggles the only thing in the air…

What the hell am I doing? I should let go now, she’s...she’s fine. She’s standing. She doesn’t need it anymore but..I like this...way too much to let go---

Until this disbelief moved her eyes down to their grouping of hands, inciting this wave of anxiety within Lance that weakened his grasp some. 

She wants me to though, doesn’t she? That’s the sign...God, I knew should’ve let go. I need to let go, I look like such an idiot and I’m only making it worse for myself by holding on...

But he didn’t and...now he could feel her linking her fingers tighter with his. 

Oh...she likes it too.

So he tightened his again, his smile shining more confidently. Hers did too, albeit in a different way; whereas Lance went his typical full pearly white astonished, Deirdre’s lips moved wider but firmer, a more serious kind of confidence.

“You aren’t ever going to look like a fool with me. C’mon...” She said and started to whisk him away towards the door, the tug reminding him of a kid using all their tiny might to drag their mom just two inches further. 

With that, Lance could only chuckle, “Okay…”

When the door opened, the pulsating bass from outside became more realized, the whir  powering the air conditioner’s winds that breezed coolly through his hair didn’t faze the disco rhythm playing through the speakers. Emerging into a shower of red strobe lights saturating the otherwise mostly dark alcove that was filled with booths, chairs, and tables where you could eat that salivating popcorn he could practically taste while you out-looked the glittering disco ball and spinning dots of candy colored lights on the shiny white tile, Lance was absolutely bedazzled. 

Whoa... this place is so sick! 

However, he couldn’t indulge in the beauty for long. Deirdre gave him a tug and took another step towards her right, “C’mon! You can’t skate in sneakers!”

“Huh...I didn’t know that,” Lance dared to snark.

As if that isn’t one of the only things I know about this sport.

“Very funny,” She rolled her eyes and continued down the declining walkway. He hastened his steps so she wouldn’t have to drag him like a boulder anymore, but she moved fast! He was practically on her heels one moment and then almost meeting face to face with the black brick wall when she made a swift right. 

Damn, I didn’t even see that!

They walked a few feet down the corner where sight returned to normal. Fluorescent lights brightened the shoe rental office, sparing a few watts for the the big pearly grin the woman behind the counter sported when she saw Deirdre, “Well, there you are! I was just starting to consider that you’d taken off by now.” 

“In ten minutes?” 

The woman put her finger to her cheek, “More like...hmm...let’s see…seventeen. Time is money, Deirdre! Every little second a dollar gone. You know how I’ve always got my eyes peered on the clock, it’s hard work doing nothing else!” She laughed before shaking her head, “Nah, I’m just messing with you. Whatcha need, honey?” 

“Shoes,” Deirdre managed through her own laughter. The woman nodded and it wasn’t long before her eyes caught the sight of the boy she’d heard a little bit of an earful about, the welcoming grin easing some of the awkwardness he felt from just standing there,  “I assume his must be Lance?” 

She knows my name?

He keenly nodded but all eyes were on Deirdre, only making her burn redder as she struggled through her introduction, “Y-yeah! Yeah, um, Tina meet Lance...Lance, this is Tina. She owns the rink.”

“My pride and joy since June of 1980,” Tina stated proudly, “How do you do?” 

“Um, pretty great now, I guess,” He gave an airy laugh and extended his other hand so he wouldn’t have to let go of Dee’s. As Tina shook it, her other dark manicured hand gave his a quick friendly pat before she let go, “Good to meet ya.”  

She seems really nice. I wonder what Dee told her...

“Nice to meet you too,” He said, arm dropping back to his side when she let go. 

While Tina could sense his youthful in-expertise from his light shake, as well as Deirdre’s from how hard she was still trying to contain her nervous laughter by biting her lip, the woman only chuckled to herself as witnessed them exchange a glance. Oh the power of youth...they both looked like they were about to explode from giddy anxiety in the style you can only do then. A wonderful thing in it’s own, but enough to make her and those smoothed by time crave a smoke just from being around ‘em. R-e-l-a-x... 

Easier said than done, though, and with a sigh, Tina brought things back to business, “Alright Lance, what kind of skates do you want? We’ve got both kinds here: quads and inlines ”

What? 

He quirked his brow and looked to Deirdre, who explained the question on his mind, “Quads are your regular ones with, like, the four wheels---wait, well inlines have four wheels too but they’re all in straight line and are like figure skates with wheels. I’ve used ‘em but...” She winced thinking of him wobbling under the pressure of them like she used to,  “It’d be you who broke your ankle tonight.”

“Oh God, no...” 

Where Deirdre found humor in his horror, Tina only found inaccuracies, “No, no...not necessarily. You can learn on both of them, because the basic laws of it are the same you know...your feet are gonna roll back and forth no matter what you wear! Quad skates are more stable because of the distribution of balance on the flat surface and they’re slower so you’ll feel a little more steady and stable when you first step out into the rink, that’s why they’re the ideal for beginners. But---and you know this, Deirdre---inlines provide the ankle more support since that’s where you’re focusing most of your body’s balance. They’re equipped to protect them...certainly, I’d say, far more than those things,” She pointed down at the heels that rested in Deirdre’s hand on the counter, “Lord in heaven, girl! Those are a surefire way to end up in a cast.”

“Ohh I know,” Her grimace faded into a little smile when her head tilted towards Lance, “This one already had to pry me off the floor. That’s why I’m holding ‘em.” 

And my hand too? 

Lance smirked to himself at that, as if it was a secret only they knew until he realized that he was only making it more obvious than it was, so he tried to hide with the ground. Luckily, Deirdre’s own eyes were busy trying to escape too. 

“I love me a good heel, but my lord, those are too much,” Tina shooed them, “Anyway, you ever decide on what you want, Lance?” 

He lifted his head, “Oh yeah…right...”

Guess I better go with regular quads since they’re the only ones I know of but...I mean, if Dee’s getting these other ones...maybe I should get ‘em too, since she’s gonna teach me and all and she’s good with them so I could be too...it’s worth the shot…

Seeing the way his wheels were turning in this way-longer-than-it-should’ve-been silence, Deirdre was in total disbelief. No...no, c’mon, he couldn’t be seriously considering inlines. He didn’t know what he was doing! 

“C’mon, don’t go with inlines, Lance…”

“Why not?” 

“Because,” She sighed, “With inlines, the second you get on the rink---hell, maybe even before that---with all of the weight on your ankle you’ll slip back, absolutely bust your ass and potentially whack the back of your head on the concrete. With quads, at least you can stumble forward and find a rail or land on all fours. Maybe bust your chin if you’re really unlucky, but all they’re way better than a concussion…” 

If he wasn’t already considering that he was getting too far ahead of himself, that daunting word alone did enough to fully pull him out of his illusions of grandeur. Having a few in childhood and remembering that state of limbo of feeling like pure dizzy shit and and the accompanying terror of confusion from feeling like that made him cringe.

“Oh God...yeah, you’re right. I don’t want that at all…” He breathed in relief, “Thanks.”

Glad I dodged that bullet.

He smiled as he turned to Tina,  “Definitely quads.” 

“Get me a pair of ‘em too,” Deirdre chimed in and Tina nodded at her before asking Lance, “What size?”

“Ten.” 

After Tina flicked a strand of brown hair off her shoulder with her nail and turned to get the shoes, Deirdre lightly nudged him, “Geez. Didn’t know you were Bigfoot.” She cringed as soon it spilled out. God, talk about a shit joke. Ten absolutely wasn’t particularly special or huge. Matter of fact, it was the most average and common size there was for guys and she’d certainly dealt out enough of them out to know that. He wasn’t gonna get it…there wasn’t anything to get. 

That didn’t stop Lance from nudging back, “Oh sorry, Cinderella. Guess I forgot to say something about it.” 

“Yeah, Cinderella’s about right,” Deirdre smirked, “Except for she’s somehow more stupid than I am. I mean, c’mon, who the hell forgets a shoe like that?”

“She was in a hurry, Dee! She had, like, two seconds to get in that carriage before the spell broke. You know you can’t go too far in a pumpkin!”   

“And she couldn’t have walked? It’s not that hard, just pick up your shoes and carry them while you go barefoot,” She jokingly scoffed, “She really was a princess…”

He snickered, “You’re sure one to talk.” 

Boot in hand, her arm surged back up in the air with her newfound sense of pride, “Hey! Sometimes following your own advice hurts, y’know?”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Lance said a little too declaratively, “Why did I say that like that? You aren’t wrong or anything but geez...I’m not about to get into some tragic story.” 

Now he was tripping and trying to find some reason in this shitshow of a conversation? Deirdre scoffed again, “Oh yeah, ‘cause this is such a tragedy. Solid advice is solid advice, Lance. There’s no shame in saying I’m right...”

“But I never denied it!” 

His quick and genuine, almost proud, exclamation only fueled her, “Oh I know. That’s why I said no shame.”

The sly smile that was plastered on her lips only grew as she watched his confused expression slowly melt; the closing of his eyes, the meeting of his tongue to his teeth, the shaking of his head as he tried to turn away from the call out on his shameless transparency. 

It was wonderful. 

“Very tongue in cheek, Deirdre.” 

“Hey! It’s still Dee to you,” She playfully hit him in the shoulder, only to be met back with his light defense.

So Eric WAS right?

“ABC-DEIRDRE-EFG…” He sang goofily out of tune until her fist went for round two and his laughter stopped him. 

“You asshole!” Deirdre tried but succumbed under the weight of her own laughter which worsened his to where he had to rest his elbow on the counter and bury his face in his palm, leaving him unable to see how charmed she was by it. God...he looked so fucking cute doing that. All of these jokes were so openly silly and childish yet here he was, wholeheartedly enchanted by it…

That was wonderful too. 

It took a minute but he was able to get himself together, taking a deep breath to try and ease the small yet missed ache in his sides. 

Wow, it’s been a long time since I’ve laughed like that…

He wasn’t exactly sure when the last time he was actually doubled over like this was and there was a reason why for that; joints and...other things made his sense of humor absolutely stupid and it would take nothing to send him into ten minute fits, but absolutely none of those ingredients were in play tonight.

Joints don’t exactly make for impressive breath...or any good first impression, really---Christ, I would absolutely kill myself if I came in here completely stoned out of my mind and tried to skate. 

But sober...who knows, it seemed like such a rarity nowadays. He felt like he couldn’t muster more than a hearty chuckle for anything, even at the things he wanted to. Eric and his antics broke through the most but, even then, Lance had found himself responding more and more at things with the faint half smiles he’d inherited from Rebecca, the most he ever attained from her. 

  She wasn’t much of a laugher...certainly not one at herself, either.  

Here Deirdre was though, again making him howl like an audience on a laugh track over nothing and he didn’t feel dumb for it or too much because she didn’t care either. 

It’s so liberating...

Leaning more proper against the counter, Lance smiled contentedly as he basked in her glowing stride, “Oh Dee, you’re something else…” He sighed happily. 

“I know,” She winked, but her tone struck a little foreign to him now.

I’m being serious! You really are...

The words almost ran out of his mouth, but he had to shove them down when he heard Tina clear her throat, turning his head back around in time to catch her place the skates on the red counter, “Sorry I took so long. Of course the second I step back there, that phone starts ringing off the hook…”

Deirdre brought herself closer to the counter, resting her chin on her palm, “Who was that? Miss Tina got a date herself?” 

“Now, now. Don't you know how to mind your own business, Deirdre?” Tina rolled her eyes but Deirdre’s smirk broke the woman up, “Nah I wish, but it’s just the usual. Somebody wants to rent out the rink for a night next week. Can’t wait. It’ll come in handy to get these girls all nice and fixed,” Tina flexed out her long ruby and silver glitter acrylics, turning them towards herself for examination, “Damn chips have been bothering me since August…”

“I don’t know, I think they still look nice,” Lance offered and Tina just smiled and turned to Deirdre, leaning as forward as she could so that only the girl could hear her goodnatured motherly teasing, “I think you got yourself a keeperrr...” 

“Tina!” Deirdre could feel how wide her eyes were bugging and was surprised at herself for being able to be as hushed as Tina. She sure as hell wasn’t wrong but shit! He definitely heard that, he was right there! 

“Well I’m just saying…” Tina shrugged and drew herself back.

Luckily for Deirdre, Lance’s concentration had momentarily dwindled to figuring out the white skate before him. Moving it back and forth gently with his finger, that bumpy feel of the worn wheels against the smooth surface gave him more assurance about what the real deal was going to be like.

So they ARE like skateboard wheels...they got the same traction and feel more steady than I thought. Maybe if I go slow, I won’t look like Charlie Brown trying his best Jeff Jaeger impression before he gets slipped up by Lucy again. Then again, they aren’t on my feet yet…

Tina’s voice bounced back to her full jovial volume, “Anywho!---” 

Oh shit…

The way his head snapped up blankly allowed Deirdre to breathe. He didn’t hear it. That was a fucking miracle if she’d ever seen one...

“There you have it!” She gestured to the shows, “Your size ten quads...and your size eights, Deirdre. Y’all have fun!  If you need anything, I’ll be in the back.” She said, waving them off before disappearing again; teenage awkwardness and uncertainty subtly crawling back in the buoyant woman’s absence.��

Contemplating the mess of shoes on the counter, Deirdre frowned upon realization that, if she was going to be able to carry both pairs, she was going to need her other hand. She looked up at Lance apologetically, letting out a little sigh when she finally had to let go...but he didn’t catch it, so the minor shift of emptiness came to him as a surprise. He’d gotten so comfortable he’d forgotten he was still holding it...

Oh damn… Well, it’s not gonna last forever. I’ll be clutching onto her for dear life in a few minutes.

In the meantime, he scooped up his own shoes, “So...are you ready?” 

Dumb question. She’s probably born ready for this. 

“Yeah. Are you?” 

“Uh…” He could only chuckle nervously at the question, all of the confidence from earlier about being taught and the quads and the feeling of the wheels momentarily disappearing like it was never there to begin with.  Now he actually had to do it. He had to put these things on and deal with the inevitable embarrassment. 

“You will be.” Her lips curved into that serious smile of hers again, melting away the cold ice of his doubt because she knew what she was doing. 

God, she could get me to believe anything, couldn’t she? 

“If you say so…”

“I know so.” She lifted her shoes and skates from the counter. After taking a few steps around him, she stopped and tilted her head towards the entrance, “C’mon...let’s go and make you into a real deal skater.”  

Lance snorted at that and took his own, only to stop when a sign taped on the wall by the counter caught his peripheral and he took a step back to fully read, eyes widening as he did so:

ADMISSION: $5 (DOES NOT INCLUDE SKATE RENTAL)

SKATE RENTAL PRICES

INLINES: $3

QUAD SKATES: $2

KIDS (SIZES 4 THRU 13): $1 

 “Oh shit,” He quickly looked to Deirdre, perplexed by how unfazed she seemed because he’d totally forgotten, “Did you already pay or something?” 

“Mhm. It’s all cool.”

“Oh... thank God, I didn’t wanna just take off with these…” He breathed in relief, but some annoyance started to stew within him. Not at Deirdre, it was really sweet thing for her to do and it didn’t seem like a problem to her, but because of the chance that was lost.

That’s two things she’s paid for me now, two times I’ve let her save my ass, even though I have my own money. I’ve gotta return the favor somehow…

“Believe me, Dee. I’m getting the next one.”

His insistence made her sigh, “Lance, it’s fine. Really---”

“I know, I know, it’s fine. I’m just saying though, next one’s on me.” He smiled. 

As much as she wanted to persist her resistance, her brow raised and the corner of her lip curled in intrigue, “What’s this next one, then? Got a trick up your sleeve, Lancey?”

It was his teeth that met his lip at her nickname for him now, and he raised his brows like he knew something, even though he absolutely didn’t, “Guess we’re going to have to find out, Deirdre.”

She let it slide this time, only giving him an eye roll before continuing her walk back to the rink.

It was easier for Lance to see in this direction. She was a stark silhouette doused in the sea of red instead of another shadow in pitch black, allowing him to keep up with her march back up the incline and to an empty table towards the opening of the rink, claiming it as theirs when she set her boots on top of the table.

“God, those things could spear somebody…gonna spike whoever steals our table?” He remarked as he sat down in the chair opposite from hers and slipped off his comfortable, flat, shoes. 

“Maybe...” Deirdre muttered upon examination of the stiletto in hand, “I don’t think it’d be hard, y’know. Just take it and wham!” She struck hard into the air, her motion causing Lance to flinch despite it not even being in his direction, “Geez, be careful!”

“I know. They’re not even mine, they’re my friend’s. She’d definitely spear me if anything happened to these...”

“Well, since there’s two of them, at least you’d have a fair fight.”

“True,” She set the heel carefully back down on the table, “But knowing her I ain’t gonna try it.” Deirdre gave it a soft little pat that they both giggled at, before she slipped into her own chair, “Got yours on yet?” 

Lance grinned crookedly as he simply held up the skate to her, before he brought it down and slipped it on over his socks. Already, it felt weird with how weighted it was, like there was this metal brick tied to the bottom of his foot, but he laced it up tightly and did the same for the other skate. 

“Double tie ‘em. Trust me, they’re bound to come undone,” She spewed, hoping her mouth or her skates could move before he did, “And just stay there for a sec…”

“Already did,” Lance laid his arms on the table, intently watching as she brought her leg up closer and began to double lace one of her own, this uniform precision of how she used all of her force to snap her laces tight against the tongue of the skate like that prompting a lingering question, “So, how long have you been coming here?” 

“Oh, I dunno…” She set her leg down and brought up the other one, careful not to bump her giant bruise against the table, “Probably started a few years ago. I went a few times with my friends just for the hell of it...”

Her words were the basis for the drawing he created in his mind of her in her group of people, all of them sweaty and laughing their heads off all dizzily as they made their way over to these tables to cool off with a Coke from that machine over there and maybe get some of that popcorn that still tantalized the air on this side of the place. No social pressures to uphold, just having fun.

The kind of fun that isn’t going to bite you in the ass later on.

When she was finished with her lace, she continued, “Then I started coming regularly in the springtime of this year--- May I think---because I wanted to seriously learn. Tina offered me lessons and taught me. Then I started working here for a while in the summer,” A proud smile flashed on her face and elicited one on his own. His eyes started to wander around the rink, this new filter of knowledge making it seem like a new world, one about ten times more exciting and cool than it already was before, “Oh cool! What was that like?”

“Well, it was a lot like any other cashier job really... I mainly just helped in the office and with handing out food and shoes...sometimes at the same time,” Deirdre laughed, “I did other stuff too, though. Like I got to work the music and MC a few times, which was hands down, my favorite part because that’s when I could actually pick my songs instead of just switching tapes every half hour…”

“MC? Didn’t know you were a superdopehomegirlfromtheOaktown,” Lance fumbled, instantly regretting letting that silly mind connection slip, “Wow, uh...sorry about that. God, I sound whiter than Vanilla Ice...”

“Alright stop...” She held out her palm and he was more than ready to when “collaborate and listen” followed.

He cringed. “How did I not see that coming…” 

“Oh, I know. Wayyy too much of a flashback to seventh grade. Trust me, I never played it. However, I did play Everybody Dance Now a lot and make everyone line skate to it…” Her eyes flickered towards the rink, a frown etching at the lack of people, “You’d love line skating. It’s a lot easier to get around the rink when you’ve got an entire group of people supporting your weight. Seriously, it’s so streamlined that you don’t feel a thing! Shit... it really sucks that summer’s gone and everyone’s filtered out now... ” Deirdre rested her chin on her fingers, her sigh of melancholy contagious.  

Summer really is gone, isn’t it?

It felt like it’d been for a while. The leaves were yellow, it windy enough to mess up his hair and blow it in his eyes, somehow he’d already survived through a month of school, and the first official day of fall was literally…

Tomorrow? Thursday? TODAY? I honestly can’t remember which. I never can keep it straight. The date seems to change every year...

Yet in her words, through these speakers, and in the colors of these lights...this place had so much life that there remained a tangible chance for him to make something out of the weirdest summer ever, one last opportunity presented to enjoy the season that slipped through his fingers like water. The portrait of vacancy in front of him was as disheartening as those early autumnal gusts, but like them, it was only fleeting, since now Deirdre was starting to stand up. 

The memories can wait ‘til after we’re done trying to make them. 

She rolled over, her hand touching along the edge of the table a guide that he took note of so he could get up too. However, just when he started to lift himself up, her stature closed the space between their feet and blocked him in.

“Wait a second, Speedy Gonzales! I’m your teacher, remember? I’ve gotta show you some things first…” 

He rested his impatient hand, “Right. Sorry.”

“Okay, so before you can stand, you’ve gotta point your skates like this,” Deirdre backed up some to show off the V shape her ankles were in, “And try and keep your knees bent a little. It’ll help you feel more stable.”

“Looks easy enough,” He remarked and, following her instructions, he was surprised that it actually was.

It still feels weird but hey, I’m not flailing around for dear life!

“That’s it! Burn this in your brain because it’s, like, the most important thing: keep your feet in that same position and your knees bent like that, okay? Stick your arms forward if it helps, ‘cause, to roll,  you’re gonna need that direction. Otherwise, if you keep your toes pointed straight like this and try rolling,” She demonstrated, “You’re not gonna go anywhere!” 

“Kinda like a hamster in a wheel?” 

“Yeah! Now to roll, all you have to do is pick up one foot at a time. Don’t try and push forward or anything, just pick up and shift your weight from one foot to the other and let it gliiiide.” She used her technique to slowly move around and over to the entrance of the rink where she waved him to join her, “C’mon!”

Her absence suddenly turned the few feet distance daunting, making it seem like there was an entire ocean between them that he had to plow through, but Lance fought the gravitational pull to stay put, lifting his arms forward and picking up his feet slowly and moving on his own...

Holy shit, I can’t believe---I didn’t fall! Wow--okay, steady...just keep going slow and you’ll be alright.

A little nerve started to twist within him when he realized he was going to have to make a turn, but he just took a breath, moved his one foot in the direction, the other followed, and...

“Hello..” He tried to play it cool by laxing his arm around the post of the gate like he didn’t need it to stop himself, but his proud first-timer smile was only made more noticeable by Deirdre, who clapped at his arrival, “See! I knew you could do it!”

“Don’t jinx me! I’m not on the rink yet…” 

That cocked her grin defiant. “Screw jinx!” She declared and took his hand, “Hold on tight.”

“Oh, I’m gonna.” 

His legs felt precarious as the friction underneath him turned almost slippery smooth. She was trying to go slow, but even slow was fast for him here. Still, her grip was enough to keep him in check while she was steering him over to the edge of the rink so they could continue his lesson. He still needed to learn how to stop before being able to fully take off... 

She let go to turn around, not thinking to tell him because they were going this slow, but it was too early; the absence of her hand threw him completely for a loss and he veered right into the railing.

Too busy in her small turn to see the impact, Deirdre didn’t realize what was going on until she started to roll up beside his awkward position, “Oh shiiit. Are you alright?”

The steel bar that had twinged his rib was uncomfortable but the ailment was relieved when he breathed out sharply; the embarrassment of blindly running into a rail worse on him than the actual minor fumble, “Yeah, I’m fine! Just kinda uh...bumped into it there...but more scary on approach than on impact. I’m good.”

Despite how relieved Lance sounded, Deirdre felt too bad at the effect of her piss poor execution to let herself laugh it off with him. “I’m sorry, Lance. That was a total accident on my part. I wasn’t thinking like I should’ve there...”

“No, it’s okay, but…” He sighed, furrowed brow complimenting the lost look in his eye,  “Why’d you stop? Did I hurt your hand or something?”

“What? No! My hand’s fine. I wanted you to hold on for a reason…” Her sigh only grew deeper when she stared at how his feet were caught beneath the rail, “And this is the reason. I let go because I wanted to teach you how to properly stop. Otherwise, you’re gonna be running into this thing, or the floor, all night…”

“Ohh. Yeah, that’s definitely a good idea,” Lance slowly used the bar to turn back the right way around and started to study his feet, particularly noticing the way the red brake just stuck out at the top of his skate, “I didn’t really think about it before but...I don’t know, I guess I should be glad I didn’t because I don’t know how these could work without tripping over the stop and falling face first.”

“That’ll only happen if you’re trying to stop that way with both feet, which is why you don’t.” She smiled. 

 “Yeah, I can figure.” He chuckled, “Is it like skateboarding? Where one foot stays on the board while the other drags, but there’s more pressure on your toe instead of your heel?”

“Yeah, yeah exactly! Just don’t have your leg too far behind, otherwise that’s going to be a very uncomfortable banana split.”

That sure made him wince. “No kidding.”

“There’s also something called a t-stop, which is essentially the same thing, but you might be more comfortable with it since you don’t have to bend your toe and drag it. You keep one foot forward and put pressure on it, then angle the other one to the side and put it behind,” Deirdre backed up, showing him with a little bit of an improper technique, “Really, you aren’t supposed to draaag it like that, you’re supposed to just clamp down on all four wheels, but, like, whatever gets you to stop. Give it a go.” 

Here goes nothing...

With a deep breath, Lance lifted his stable grasp off the bar and started to shift again, one foot after the other...one foot after the other. The more he rolled and felt that familiar friction of the little cuts on these well loved wheels, the less slippery the surface seemed and his once shaky strides soon turned to smooth glides. 

It really is like skateboarding, except for not as jarring since there’s no fucking rocks in my way. I can’t believe how easy this is! 

So concentrated on his movements, Lance didn’t even know how far his test run had gone until he looked over his shoulder, realizing he was already a fourth of the way away from her. 

Whoops. 

He turned back, “Sorry! I got kinda carried away there…”

Not like Deirdre minded, her eyes were captivated on every move. 

“Pretty impressive,” She tightened her crossed arms, her lip curling further. “I think you might be a natural, Lance.”

“Really?”

“Duh! Are you sure you’ve never done this before because uh...what the hell?” 

Lance blankly nodded, even more dumbfounded at her surprise until…

Wait no, you have! Eric’s eighth birthday party! God, how could I forget---mom just told me about this yesterday. 

He corrected himself, “Well...seriously trying to skate anyway. Apparently, I went once when I was seven but I completely forgot about it until I got reminded of it, like, yesterday. Does that even count, though?”

“Knew it,” A smirk flashed across her face, “No, I’m just kidding. If you didn’t know what you were doing and don’t remember a thing, it doesn’t count. I first went when I was four, but, mainly, it was just my dad holding my hand and slowly pulling me around the edges of rink. Like, the only thing I remember about it is what I saw at, like, this high.” She chuckled and the memory warmed a quick smile on the both of their faces. 

“Aww, that’s sweet,” Lance said, “Mine uh...wasn’t. It was at my friend’s birthday party like...nine years ago and, apparently, the only thing notable about it wasn’t even about skating. It was that his brother tried starting a food fight by decking him with a slice of pizza square in the face and obviously we retaliated, but we didn’t get too far before their mom stopped us. Probably a good thing I don’t remember much about it, I’d be too embarrassed to come back. Actually, now that I think about it, I bet that’s why we never did…”

“Probably. Ugh, why can’t boys ever just have fun?! Why do you have it in you to make such a mess out of everything?” She was laughing and he couldn’t resist joining because it was true!

Really true...

What would’ve been nothing but an amusing story that he wouldn’t have thought twice about sharing a year ago now opened the door for the inklings of a dark burden to momentarily crawl into the pit of Lance’s stomach, turning him a little uneasy. 

A mess is right...what the hell happened to us? I mean, I know...I fucking know, but, God... that’s so innocent now. Never thought there would be a day where my soul would feel better by wishing the most extreme thing Bryan ever did was whack me in the face with a greasy slice of pizza when we were kids, but here we are… Why did we ever think we needed anything more than that? We didn’t need that shit. 

The familiar ugliness was simultaneously alienated by this foreignness. Everything with Bryan only happened within this year, the subtle reminders that even minor things like the childhood memories he had with him would never be looked at the same were still fresh enough to sting and they did but...

It’s like none of it even really happened to me, even though I know it did and it still makes me sick, everything’s just so fucking different now...it’s so strange...

“Earth to Lance?”

That sure snapped him back into the present, a breath of relief accompanying his smile as he returned to the girl in front of him, “Yes Houston?”

For now, that was enough to put Deirdre’s cautious brow at ease and she contemplatively gazed out at the vast remainder of rink, her ears tuning into the speakers. Michael Jackson’s Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’ was pointless now that there was no one she could have convinced to corral in a line and kick up like burlesque dancers at the YEEHAA! part. It seemed too fast for him now, but, then again, he was quite the fast learner…

Thankfully, the song was already on it’s fade and the melodious rhythm of the shimmering guitar opening of this next tune made Deirdre feel like Goldilocks when she found the right bowl of porridge; not too energetic and fast but not so slow that there wasn’t a pulse either. No, it was just right. 

“Do you remember, the 21st night of September? Love was chasing the mind of pretenders, while chasin’ the clouds awaaay…”

Looking back to him only sweetened the grin spread across her face and she held out her palm, “Ready to take me for a spin?” 

“Absolutely.”

Lance gently took her hand and brought it down with his as he took the lead, gliding her to the middle of the glossy hardwood floor before he stopped right underneath the large disco ball and the strobes that tanned their skin with balmy bronze light. His sudden pause threw her only momentarily, he raised their hands and created an arch with his arm for her to twirl under. Deirdre did slowly but smoothly, a little surprised at herself for how graceful it turned out. She tugged back, allowing her full arm to extend before closing the gap with a step and giggling when she went up on a tippy toe to create an arch for him. 

He found it funny, “Geez Dee, you’re shorter than I thought!”

“It’s the skates!” 

“We have the same height advantage, but if you saaay so...” He said all sing-song-y, and she rolled her eyes again, “Just spin already!” 

So he ducked his head under the arch and gave it a go. It was nowhere near as graceful as hers since he had picked up his feet to do it instead of letting the wheels do the work, but it worked! Trying to extend his arm since it looked cool when Deirdre did it, Lance took a step back and…

“Whoa SHI---”

Too much pressure was on his cockeyed heel and full Charlie Brown he went: back flat on the floor, looking up at the ceiling like an idiot with the spinning disco ball only making him dizzier and the burning light of the strobes made him flinch. That flash of disorientation went away when he sat up, but a dull ache remained…

Was wondering when that was gonna happen.

His hand met the back of his head, giving that space in his neck a little rub as he turned to who was also on the floor in front of him. She’d landed under his arm, but had already moved off and was sitting up on her knees, rubbing her shoulder. 

“Oh shit, are you alright?” They asked each other, giggling at their synchronization before Deirdre’s concern broke through, “Seriously though, are you? That was a pretty bad landing...”

Lance nodded, “Yeah I’m fine! It uh... really wasn’t that bad, actually. I’m glad it’s out of the way... How’s your shoulder?” 

She shrugged it, “Nothing I’m not used to.”

With that proclamation, she stopped the massage and used her hands to get herself up before offering one out to him, “Let me return the favor.” 

Fumbling humility over how she didn’t owe him anything and how he’d do it any time be damned, he graciously accepted her gesture. It was amazing how her hand felt as pillow soft as it did the first time while also being so secure and unexpectedly strong.  She wasn’t doing all of the work, he pushed himself up, but with the grasp and a reminder of proper position she made getting back on his feet easier than it would’ve been otherwise...

“Thank you...” 

“You’re welcome.”

Their eyes stayed on the grouping, the passing seconds furthering their blushing smiles again. Yeah, they’d been holding hands all night, but for a while it was pretty necessary. He needed her direction, she needed to hold onto him to know he was getting it. Now he was stable, her lesson was complete... yet there weren’t any nervous laughs over the pressure to let go. There wasn’t any pressure at all. It was just so soft and so warm and so comfortable...it was...

Just right.  

His grip became firmer and she took his other hand as her feet moved backwards, drawing him into gliding a small loop underneath. He pushed off of her, she pulled him...until the wheels turned them around; then she pushed off of him and he pulled her until it was the other way around again. The wheels made their movements so loose and fluid, Lance didn’t even realize that he could skate backwards until he was! Deirdre breezily twirled around him, and after a while, he even started to twirl around her, never losing the pace. Together, they were tempests, accelerating and moving around the rink so fast, but their hold on each other was so secure and stable that the winds weren’t blustering or dizzying. In Lance’s little laughs of whimsy and in Deirdre’s eyes that glistened even brighter underneath these golden lights, they were basking in the sun in their own summer, together, and it was as hypnotizing as the song sonically swirling above. 

I wish this could last forever... 

But the song was already on it’s closing fade and they wound down, moving to their right and coming to a stop on the edge to catch their breaths. They were both pretty winded, but Lance especially. He ran his palm across his forehead to wipe off the cold sweat and trailed his fingers behind his hair. 

“Well uh...wow. That was amazing! I never thought I could move like that. I swear…this sounds silly, but I feel like I have new legs or something!”

“Oh I know. Once you get the hang of it, it really is. Every step is like gliding on a cloud, but the music puts such a bounce and groove in your legs, so you end up like...dancing on a cloud,” She giggled.

I’ve been doing that quite a lot lately, thanks to you...

“I--uh, I know! I never thought it’d be that easy. Usually, I’m just the clumsiest…” His eyebrow arched at the newfound inaccuracy, “Well, I still am, obviously, but I don’t feel like I’m going to trip right now or anything. I think I do better on wheels than on regular shoes...”  

That put a smile on Deirdre's face and she wandered down to her skates, “I swear, I’d wear these everywhere if I could.” She began beaming with pride when she saw the position of his own skates, with his left foot sticking out with the right angled behind; a perfect t-stop. 

Looking back up at Lance and the way he leaned there with his free arm resting against the bar so cooly and casually...she couldn’t believe the sacrilege he was giving himself. “The clumsiest? Yeah right. Don’t give me that shit, Lance. You’re barely a novice anymore.”

“Oh really?” Lance was unable to resist being a little cocky. That one fall and that little tangle with the rail aside, it did feel pretty good not to immediately suck at something for once. To hear it from Dee out of all people this quickly was like the icing on the cake...and she deserved to have a slice of it.

“Well I did learn from the best…”

“What, you learned from Tina too? Way to stick to your story…” Deirdre deflected, trying her damndest not to break again. It was hard...really hard, especially since now he was smirking like a smartass because he knew she knew who he really meant...but she didn’t want to give in to him...not yet anyway. They were only one song in…

Until her channels tuned back into the speakers, gasping when she finally realized what was playing, “Holy shit!” She tugged, “I love this song!” 

The best? He hadn’t seen it yet.

To Lance’s thrashed out ears, this song sounded pretty identical to the tune that played before it and he didn’t see why it was so captivating until they got barely halfway to their original spot and Dee turned back around for him to see how the energy of the synthesizers and thump of the bass and drums breathed new life into her. There was a bounce in her knees and a tight sway in her hips and shoulders as she wrapped her free arm around the back of his own shoulder, bringing him closer to her, the tight grasp of her palm and the movement of her dancing fingers tapping along fully activated the infectious groove within him, just like she wanted it to. 

The weight of the skates didn’t stop Lance from tapping his foot, keeping perfect time with the beat as he raised their arms in the familiar curvature and she swiftly moved under, the speed making her sloppily give his arm a rougher-than-usual pull upon her fan out, but it didn’t hurt. He liked the bundle of tension in his muscle. It was a relieving scratch to this itch...this tingling, physical, feverously restless itch that she was stirring up within him. 

She let go upon completion of the steady twirl, but this time he couldn’t chill at the loss. Her smirk was red-hot now, her eyes narrowed sharply and fiercely as they looked right into his, the stare burning into his chest like direct sunlight on the most scorching July day he could imagine.

Holy fuck she’s so hot…

“Watch this.” She declared and he smirked, only allowing her the answer of a little scoff in disbelief. 

Like I would want to look at anything else.

He would’ve said it, but she had no time for his snark and glossily moved forward towards the middle of the rink. One leg was tightly tucked right behind the other, before she brought it back around to its proper side and stopped in her tracks, the metal axle of the skates lifting up in full view as her toes dipped into the brakes, as if she had Michael Jackson’s moonwalking feet lighting up the squares of the sidewalk in the MTV video for Billie Jean.

His own toes curled into his skates a bit. 

That move’s uncomfortable enough, much less with these things, but look at her! She’s so effortless.

He could barely see the side of her face from where he was, but he knew that she didn’t even crack the slightest inkling of a wince.

And if she did, there sure wasn’t a trace of it when she quickly flared her wheels to the quick little rise and fall of the horns, a totally different look on her face revealed to him when he watched her draw herself back into a loop that led her entirely bathed under the disco ball. Her brows were still tight and narrow, concentrated, but her eyes were dancing voraciously in the anticipation of every little next move that was going to be made: the spread of her arms out from side to side like wings as she picked up her leg, the curve in her back as she looked up towards the ceiling and brought her leg around to swing her heel into a spin. This crystal clear look of complete serenity washed over her face when she drew her arms back in, closing her eyes as she clasped her hands together and brought them to a close on her chest, a little over her heart. 

The wave splashed over to Lance, his stunned eyes softly glimmering as he watched how quickly she’d gone from this determination that could set everything and everyone in her path ablaze with just one look to this precise, peaceful, ballerina that spun freely and wondrously, this precious porcelain treasure springing forward into life when her music box was opened...before the velocity ran out and her eyes opened, the now tangerine light emitting from the strobes tinting the color in her cheeks to make her beam even more jubilantly as she spread her wings and went right back to where she’d left off; the strike in her eye and skates sparking another blaze backward along the perimeter of the rink, the fluidity of the song’s strings coursing the elegance in her arms and dainty fingertips as they graciously reached up and grabbed to the heights of the gravity before her as if she was sprinkling the space with magic to ensure every movement would go as perfectly as it did when she moved forward to encapsulate it. He’d never seen anything like it, he’d never expected to see her move like that and it was so... beautiful... 

She’s so beautiful…

Nevermore so when she flickered a diamond of a grin at him from across the rink. Her show wasn’t over yet...the song wasn’t even over yet…almost, but not quite. In this final break where she simply skated forward, one foot after the other just like she’d taught him to do, the lyrics swirling above became clearer.

Lady, you bring me up when I’m down, up when I’m down,

And maybe, you’re gonna change my life around.

Lady, pretty lady, you brought me in from out the rain…

And maybe, my life will never be the same.

It isn’t the same. I don’t think it could be...I’ve never...I’ve never felt like this before about anyone. My heart’s never been this gushy before and I can’t stop it. I...I can’t even think because...she really is so beautiful. I think she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen and she’s right there and every move she makes just makes me lose it even more, and if she doesn’t come back over here soon I...I don’t know...I think I’m just going to melt into this big, soupy, puddle on the floor but I’d be okay with it because she’s just so...incredible.

But she kept skating forward and all he could do was let out a happy sigh. If there was anything she was the most incredible at besides for making him into this languishing mess, it sure was this. 

Her motions turned retrograde when she slanted her way around the final corner of the rink and his breath hitched in the same way it did whenever Rickey Henderson was on third base; unbelievable pent up anticipation.

She's coming back!

Her magnetic greys pulled his nerves strongly when she looked over her shoulder at him, curling into another smile as she concentrated back on the ground making up the distance between them; narrowing in on home plate. 

She’s. coming. back. to. me. Those eyes of hers are going to be shining on me. Oh God, what the hell am I gonna do? Be calm? Act COOL? Not just spill my guts with all of my stupid feelings? God, God I can’t do that...it’ll scare her off, it’s too soon, it’s way too soon for any of this. But I can’t think! I-I can’t think of my own name---Lance---well, okay, I can still do that but...shiiiit…

Deirdre wasn’t making this jumbled train of thought any easier for him. The storm inside her own head roared so loud that it deafened her. She simply stuck out her left arm and rolled backwards before switching to the right and swinging her left leg one time, two times...three times...

While a polar breath left her lungs, Lance was surprised he wasn’t purple yet. His stomach was all tied up in a knot. 

Something big is coming but what the hell else could she do to me? What trick could she have up those red sleeves? 

Or, rather, those legs. She kicked one up and...

It happened so fast that if he dared to blink, he would’ve missed it all, but he didn’t. The entire flash, the stunning mid-air revolution that he wished he could’ve been able to capture and play frame by frame just to comprehend because his head was spinning like a top. Before he could even begin to think, all four of her wheels hit the ground with a smack that rattled around the rink.

A perfect landing. 

The sound snapped her right out of the ice and into the euphoric suffusion of knowing…

“I did it!” 

“You did!” Lance cheered. Whatever it meant, he didn’t fully know, but she did. She was smiling so big and wide that all of these cute little crinkles accentuated her nose and under her eyes, like they were trying their best to prop it up because she just couldn’t contain it! She really couldn’t believe that she didn’t tilt, didn’t fall, didn’t limp a measly double, didn’t land the wrong way or some other weird skating screw up...

The summer had finally paid off: her first triple axel jump and Lance saw it! 

His arms opened wide to congratulate her and her own arms spread upon approach. She wanted to pull him into this celebration as tight as she could, to grip onto any semblance that it happened. 

But her mind wasn’t as swift as her skates or her reflexes and she was too caught up to realize that she had way too much momentum and the commemorate run was gone with the wind; knocked out of Lance when she pummeled right into him. Only one of his arms wound up wrapped around her, the other was uncomfortably twisted behind him; clutching onto the rail so that they both wouldn’t slip and bust their asses again. He didn’t notice that she’d managed to stake a claim on the railing too, even with her knuckles digging into his rib.

Rather, his attention was strongly pulled by her hand tightly balled in his shirt, all five of her fingers practically plunging into him. He hitched breath he didn’t know he had left but did as it started to quicken when she lifted her head off of his shoulder. Her own breathing did too, her body was flush against his and he could feel her hot and labored air against his neck, sending a shiver down his spine and accelerating the jumping in his chest, even more so as both of their eyes looked down at what her hand was mangled with. 

Holy shit, she’s...really close to me. Really close...

Close enough to, much to his mind and pride’s flustered dismay, feel the banging up against the bottom of her hand, but...it was okay. As twisted as they were, there was this intimacy in it. She liked being this close to him...close enough to feel how hot his chest was, close enough to have his warm arm around her and the dig of his fingers into her side as he tried to hold on and not lose his mind because of how much he liked how hers dove into him. 

God, just rip this thing off of me already…

Instead, she slowly unraveled her hand, giggling when she took the long way home by sliding her palm down his slender torso before putting it back by her side. Her eyes found it harder to follow suit, unable to do more than a quick glance up into his. “Um...sorry about that. I got so caught up, I didn’t realize how fast I was really going...”

Upon realization of being ripped from that string of thought, Lance drew an awkward laugh from the back of his throat. “Uh yeah, me too…” He muttered while his hand slid about as slowly as hers had done down and off her back, using his newly free arms to push against the railing and straighten himself out,  “It’s fine really, I---I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should’ve…”

Turning herself around to lean on the railing beside him, Deirdre rolled her eyes. Of course he wasn’t paying much attention now, but he was before. A lot of it too…

She really wanted to tease him for it and God how he wished she would so it’d break this damn incommodious ice, but...between the spinning and the lights and the music and the axel and Lance...fucking Lance...she felt dizzier than shit and had to close her eyes to catch her breath. She was completely doused in sweat; she could feel it running on her face and probably ruining her makeup, but only she gave any semblance of a fuck about that. Lance’s eyes were drawn elsewhere, he saw the beads trickle down her neck, glistening the narrow view offered under her top’s tauntingly loose keyhole laces. 

The rising heat breaking him into his own sweat, Lance roughly swallowed down and took a hard blink. His eyes skirted to make an inconspicuous break, but his sizzling stare wasn’t left without a singe on her. Pointing her wheels directly in his path, Deirdre tilted her head as she studied him scratching the back of his neck---way more than he would’ve if it was just a quick itch--- and waited until he couldn’t beat the gravity anymore and pulled right back just in time to see her cock one hell of a wicked smirk, “Don’t sell yourself short, Lance. I think you pay more attention than you think...or want to admit, anyway.”

Fuuuuck. I am so f u c k e d. She’s got me. She knows I want her... God this is it. She’s all I’ve ever wanted...I couldn’t ask for anything more…

But I have to.  I have to be smart about this or else I’ll screw it up for myself again. 

“Well... y-yeah, how could I not be?” He scoffed flippantly, “You were in mid-air, Dee. I-I think that’s a reasonable reason to want to pay attention, y’know.” 

“A reasonable reason?” Her brow arched and, despite feeling the rest his face crinkling into a cringe at that trip of his tongue, his eyes kept wide as he nodded, “Yeah! A reasonable reason, Dee. It-it’s very reasonable.” 

Deirdre couldn’t believe it. The fucking nerve he had to play dumb right now...like he wasn’t just…

Damn, he really was guiltier than sin, wasn’t he? With the stuttering and poor excuses...

He was, he had to be, but...something wasn’t all there...yet, anyway. The tenacious strain of the water tugging back the tide was all over his face and, despite the fact that he couldn’t say it for shit, Deirdre got the jest. It was only their first date and they were having a great time...too much of one, and now they were about to blindly run into third base like she just blindly ran into him, and she was about to let him because she was so used to it. Hell, she was surprised that this roadblock hadn’t already happened. She wasn’t sure of the time, but surely he’d set a record by now...and of course he would, because he wasn’t like that! Lance might’ve wanted to fuck but he wasn’t a dumb sex obsessed douche! His head had more than one track...or, at least, enough of them to know anything else and, just like before, she’d overestimated him and flung him into that rail before he could comprehend what the hell was happening...before she herself could even comprehend what the hell was happening…

“Fine...it’s a reasonable reason,” Her sigh may have sounded defeated, yet it was anything but. Those concrete bricks were lifted off of her lungs, even more so when she saw the grey clouds of his own apprehension sweeping away in Lance’s expression.

She’s got it. 

It was nice to breathe again...slower and steadier this time. 

“Told ya it was,” He teased with a righteous poke of his own on her shoulder, provoking a gasp at the audacity of his landing finger, “You jerk!” She came back with a finger punch of her own, laughing when he put his hand up to it as if he’d gotten shot. 

  We really gotta get the hell off of this rink.

 “Damn, Dee. I think we need to chill out...” Lance cooled Deirdre’s devilish tongue of defense when he asked the golden question, “Wanna go get a drink?” 

“Yes. I’m, like, dying out here,” She groaned.

“So am I,” He muttered and looked over her shoulder, desperate eyes finding solace off in a galaxy not so far far away, where the sweet nectar of Coca Cola products waited for purchase. To the worn out skaters whose throats were dryer than the rough sands of Tatooine, the tempting cans of the ice cold taste of relief dangling in sight were downright torturous with their affordable availability --- less than a crisp dollar bill lining the inside of his wallet.

This is my shot.

“Well, there’s our light at the end of the tunnel,” He nudged her out of her lazy tunnel vision and linked his fingers with hers, “C’mon. It’s on me.” 

Him dragging her off of the rink? Deirdre snickered at the irony, but she didn’t waste a second lifting her sweaty palm from the bar. She wasn’t about the resist a free drink...or him, either. 

“Lead the way...”

The departure was considerably smoother than the arrival. Lance’s initial tracks were a little skewed and wobbly, as he shook off the rust he’d acquired from standing stagnantly for the last few minutes, but it wasn’t long until he regained his rhythm. Just one foot after the other, one foot after the other...until he was directing her in a seamless glide that looped around and led back through the left side of the rink; a sophisticated sweep through their stumbling beginnings. 

It helped that Deirdre found it easier to keep herself in check this time. She was just happy to be moving and, while he wasn’t a speed demon or anything, Lance’s strides did seem faster than before and were much closer to her natural pace. The open black gate ahead felt more like those lustrous pearly ones to her upon that entering that sweet spot in the rink where the air conditioner was strong enough to blast through her hair like the cool shot on a hair dryer and it was heaven. She almost wanted him to stop and park right here, maybe lay on the cold tile for a while. Nobody was around to care… 

However, by the time she even thought to, they’d already arrived at the entrance way and Lance just rolled her on through to the other side. The sudden turbulence of the colorful carpet fibers didn’t jar him balance wise, but he started to find the friction dragging his wheels more of an annoying crutch than a useful one to hold onto in this final stretch.  

Shit, I wish I didn’t have these things on. It’d be so much easier just to walk over there…

He sighed. 

But then we’d have to stop and take ‘em off and probably have to carry them all the way back there and ugh...that’s an even longer walk that I don’t think she wants to drag through right now since I’m sure she’s dying to sit down. I know I am. 

Traction miffs aside, the trek back through the valley of the red diner chairs didn’t last long enough to be truly cumbersome. Now within the glowing realm of the machine, Lance slowed and veered his wheels off to the side, leading her to the red corner booth at the end of the stretch. 

He slung his thumb over his shoulder, “Why don’t you go ahead and sit down while I go and get our drinks?” 

“Okay.” 

Deirdre lowered herself into the booth’s left side, resting her cheek on her palm as she watched him make that mere single swipe to get himself over in front of the machine. Ever the independent, she now felt a little silly about sitting here doing nothing. It wouldn’t have killed her to stand there and get it herself, especially since he was already paying, but...those steps…

Besides, she was quite the sucker for his chivalry. 

Balancing himself with the grip of his palm on the wooden panel, Lance squinted to study the square top’s small selection, “Okay, let’s see… We’ve got regular---obviously, diet, Sprite...oh sweet! They’ve got Cherry Coke. I’ve been craving that like crazy lately...um, anyway, there’s also…” His brow fuddled as he read off the disgraced final offering, “Coke II? Christ… I didn’t even know they still made that shit.”

“Yeah, no thanks. It’s so gross,” She chuckled, “Uh...um, I’ll just take cherry. You’ve got me in the mood for it now.”

You’ve had me in the mood for it since Saturday.

“Good choice,” Lance said as he pulled out his wallet, fumbling around for some quarters that he put into the slot to get this thing to work its’ magic. In less than a second, there was that glorious thud and he scooped the blue and maroon can into his fingers before repeating the process for Deirdre, who lifted her head and smiled graciously up at him when he came over and set the drink down on the table in front of her, “Thanks, Lance. You’re a lifesaver, I swear.” 

“You’re welcome. I figured you could use it...” He gave her an amiable little wink as he slipped into the adjacent side. Her eyes rolled, but she had to bring the can up to her face to hide her smitten smile. 

While he simply pulled the tab and sipped, Deirdre hooked her finger around the thing and ripped it open with a loud crack, tilting her head back as she took a long glug.   

“Holy shit, Dee...doesn’t that burn?”

“Mmhm…” 

Yet she continued for a good second more before setting the can down, her eyes squinting a little tight while she patted her chest to roughly swallow, letting out a relieved “ahh…” afterwords. “Yeah, it burns like a bitch, but I feel better now. Like, I feel like the lights are back on up here again.” Deirdre knocked on the side of her head with her finger, “I was close to flatlining on you there for a minute. Sorry about that.”

“No, no,  you’re fine! Don’t sweat it---well, more than you already have,” Lance chuckled, “Seriously though, don’t. That was one hell of a workout you pulled out there!”

“I knowwwww. Workout is right. Tonight’s the first time I’ve done any of this in...like a month, and damn…I feel all of it. Like, usually I’m pretty winded and worn out anyway, but shiit…” Her eyes rolled again, a dramatic stream of breath inadvertently tousling her bangs out of place on her forehead, “I guess I’m rustier than I thought.  ”

The long and hard blink Lance took did nothing to cure his incredulity at that sacrilegious insinuation. “Rusty? What?! Out of practice maybe, like at the very very least, but it sure doesn’t look bad on you. If a little out of breath is what you’re like rusty, then uh... what were you before?”

“Good.” She smiled wryly.

Lance shook his head. “Oh come o-o-n,” He managed, “This is insane.  We just went through this! You said it yourself it was reasonable for me to pay attention, so don’t even try to fool me with the faux humility. I’m not buying it.”

Neither could she anymore, “Well, tonight is the first time I’ve ever had a triple axel turn out right…” Deirdre dramatically sighed again upon remembering what felt like simultaneously fifteen seconds and a lifetime ago, but in all actuality was only like...ten minutes prior. Taking her off of the clouds was his seemingly puzzled brow; lost in the linguistic technicality of what a triple axel was, so she leaned more forward on the table, her face shining in that same light of exultation. Disbelief still laced her tone, but this time she could comprehend the words she was clarifying, “Mid-air, Lance. I spun up in MID-AIR three times!”

“UH, no shit you did! It was incredible! You were fucking flying! I think you must’ve cleared at LEAST two feet off the ground.”

“Oh, I dunno about that. Two’s kinda impossible.” She said, “Maybe one... ” 

“Well, I was kinda far away...and it all happened so fast, too. It was just...” Lance snapped his fingers, “Quicker than that, even. Like if I even took a second and blinked, I would’ve missed the entire thing. So, I’m really glad that my eyes cooperated, because uh, you were quite the sight.” 

“Were? Ouch...” 

You know what I mean…

Lance’s eyes rolled in a playfully stubborn way at the taunt, “Are.” 

“That’s the right answer.”

“I know.”

Her red lips curled in satisfaction, but the teasing lines were still propping it up and eventually they inevitably broke her into another modest giggle while she shook her head. Lance laughed with her, but...he found himself fading out of it sooner than usual, exhaling a little sigh as he dwindled down loosely at his hand wrapped around the can, paying no mind to the circles his fingernail was carving on the thawing condensation.

Something was different this time. Those two words...they weren’t just a comeback, they really weren’t a joke at all. Neither were the ones before, but it was those two that blatantly started swelling the cement mixer in the pit of his stomach back up again. 

I DO know! I know so well that it’s...it’s starting to eat me alive! I wish I could say it, just put it out there as clear as day, without laughing, without sounding the slightest bit sarcastic or silly because it’s how I think about you, and you have to know that I mean it…because it really is starting to drive me insane just sitting here in this rare silence with you and knowing that maybe, if I only had the fucking balls and could SAY IT, that the maybes and the lines would disappear and I would know for sure if I could have your lips on mine instead of just staining the edge of that can---

Or instead of forming the inevitable call, “Earth to Lance?”  

He couldn’t resist spreading a smile at the joke and the crinkling in the corner of his eye for betraying the serious tone melted away when he saw her delight.  

“Don’t tell me you’re flatlining already!” She whined, “The night is still pretty young.”

“I know.” 

The quick quirk in his brow that sent her into another one of her bubbly little giggles that spread him into a soupy grin, but it only lasted a second because those two fucking words dropped back on his heart and there he went again...back to the fucking table. 

Something was on his mind again and Deirdre knew that it could be anything with him...so maybe she didn’t have to worry about it. Maybe it was just another zone out to nowhere important that he couldn’t help, maybe it was just the typical stupid first date awkwardness and he simply didn’t know what to say next…

Maybe...but it just didn’t feel like it. Not with the way that rollercoaster vocal register of his had sunk to that weirdly low, sardonic, place. Not with the way his green eyes kept piercing through her, despite his glances lasting a mere second…

He knew damn well what to say, he just couldn’t...for some reason, some fucking reason that her anxieties took the liberty of the unknown and kicked it around in all of the worst directions. Was this it? Did the flame burn out for good this time? What did she do? What did she say? Pretty much every word that had come out of her mouth in the last few minutes was a joke! Obvious ones too! 

Except for what came out next, “C’mon Lance, you know I’m not fluent in silence...”

 “Neither am I. I’m way better at talking way too much,” A wry smile flickered, “But uh...I mean what I said...”

“What do you mean, though? ‘I know’?! I know you know...but...like...I don’t!” Deirdre cringed at the way that came out, “Okay, that sounded dumb, but seriously, what exactly do you know? What are you really trying to say? Because the way you’re saying it is making it sound like you know something else that you’re expecting me and...I’m clearly not getting it…”

Lance’s eyes closed as he took a long, deep, breath, but when he opened them and finally locked into those soft waiting eyes...

It’s time to come down for good, Houston. Here goes everything...

“What I know is that you are quite the sight, Dee. I’ve never seen anything like you before and...you’re right, I mean that beyond rollerskating, even though I never expected to see you do that either,” He chuckled when he tilted his head to the rink, “I don’t want to scare you off and come off too strong because I can do that, but hell...I can’t avoid or hold this in forever, otherwise I’m gonna pass out and like, die, but... I think you’re stunning, a knockout, and God, I like you...I like you a lot!  Way more than I know I probably should right now, and that scares me a little, but it doesn’t, either…? That didn’t make sense, but, just...I feel like I’m not alone in it, like I know deep down there’s something there between us and that you know it too. But what I don’t know and one-hundred percent need to hear is if I’m absolutely batshit, certifiable, loony-toon crazy for all of it or...if you truly feel the same way…”

Lance’s teeth tentatively grazed over his lip. There it went. All of those words were out there now; out there for her to hear, analyze, and maybe, just maybe, consider…

He tried to bite down how much hope was leaking through. It wasn’t a safe bet. There were only two ways this could go and rejection was still a very real possibility. Any smile that he allowed could’ve been knocked off of his face in an instant…

But any restraint was useless when the clouds broke for good and gave way to her grin that was knocked agape, shining in awe.  

“Really?” She asked, but before she could even register what had tumbled out, he was already nodding, “Really!” 

It was in that swift movement, in his total lack of any hesitation whatsoever,  that the smack of reality finally started to rattle inside her head. 

“Well, I know that if you’re crazy for feeling that way, then I guess I’m a total wacko! Yeah I like you! I’ve always liked you,” She exclaimed, moving over to the middle part of the three sectioned booth and further sliding all the way down to where it cornered his end, “I mean, come on, I liked you when I first saw you!  Literally. I practically had to stalk you in a parking lot for fifteen minutes just so I could talk to you...” 

Now it was him who had to laugh, “No shit?!” 

She nodded, “Yeah! Well, it wasn’t fifteen minutes. It wasn’t even five. But like...I saw you roll up, which...honestly, you kinda made it hard to miss you. No wonder why you didn’t hear me when I first said something, you probably broke the fuck out of your eardrums.”

“Nah, that was just me not paying attention to my surroundings, which...now that I’ve got stalkers on my trail, I guess I should probably start doing that now.”  

She rolled her eyes. “Stalker.” 

“Hey, one’s enough for me. You 7/11 slushie sipping nomads are crazy!” Lance exclaimed, finding himself coming to a pause when he dwindled down to that huge gap inbetween them in the booth’s connecting corner, which seemed even vaster and made him feel lonelier than when she was a long reach across from him, because now she was right there and he was still stuck in the fucking middle...

But not anymore.

 He slid down over to the end of his side and came to a momentary halt when he reached that damn corner, flickering a preliminary glance over at her as he started to subtly wrap his arm around the back of her. The soft brush of his arm slipping behind her elicited a more than welcoming smile from Deirdre and she graciously obliged him by backing herself up so that he could complete the swift turn to bridge that final gap, “But you know...so am I. I think I gave myself a kink in my neck just trying to find you around school. Honest to God, up until tonight, I was starting to think I just dreamed you up…” 

The confession earned him another poke, “You sick fuck! How dare you want to see me again!” 

“Don’t be a hypocrite!” He broke her facade, making her shake her head in feigned disapproval, “We’re such fucking creeps… “

He chuckled, “Yeah, I know. What is wrong with us?” 

“Loony toon craziness,” She answered simply, before straightening up her back and moving a little deeper into the warm and inviting cove of his arm, “But from you, I find it sweet... like it’s nice to know I’ve been on your mind…” 

That sure made him smirk, “Tell me about it. You should start paying rent up there.”  

Not like I mind...

“Not until you pay me your share first, ” She fired back, but that stamina became a hard to maintain with the corner of her mouth pinned up so smittenly when his once feather light fingers tightened their grip around the edge of her shoulder. It wasn’t too tight, but it was the right kind of tight.

 It was noticeable.

 It was intentional.

 It was real. 

“You’ve racked up quite the charge in the last three days, Lance...” The remnants of the sentence oozed as her arm spread like lava over his until her hand diverted the path and curled around his neck, her fingertips rising goosebumps and provoking a tingle through his nerves as they hypnotically traced between his neck and collarbone up and down...up and down...

Sweet shiiiit… that feels amazing…

His eyes closed as he breathed in, but clarity turned out to be an aimless pursuit as her nails dragged slower than the silent seconds that ticked...and ticked... each long one mounting up such a palpable weight that didn’t settle even as he released his hot breath, a frenzied friction that certainly didn’t vanish when he saw her tilting her head like that, twirling her hair all innocent and curious like she wasn’t smoothing her crimson lipstick…

As if you’re going to be wearing it for much longer.

They were face to face, shoulder to shoulder, arm entwined with arm, barely the tiniest sliver of the red booth distanced his denim clad legs and the gorgeous skin of hers, yet…

How can we be touching but still feel this... out of reach? I said it! We said it! I like you and you like me. It’s as clear as day. So why are we still playing around? There’s nothing to lose now. The game’s over and we’ve both won! Victory is ours! C’mon...

“Don’t worry. I’m good for it, y’know...” His tongue grazed lightly over his lip and that coy look of hers evaporated as she found her gaze brewing in a battle between sanity and her impatient blood that ramped through her veins the longer she dared to stare. It was hotter than hell, he was hotter than hell...and by the way his sharp brow chiseled tight and that subtle smirk that earned way on the corner of his mouth, she knew was only fueling him and it was starting to piss her off in the worst way. If anything, at the very least, she would kiss him just to wipe that little hint of righteousness off his face. Motherfucker...

Yet, when Deirdre looked up and locked with those devoted, pretty, peridot eyes of his...she remembered that truth that all of this pent up steam blinded her to. They were brimming so softly with so much desire—earnest desire—she found herself cooled into a tranquil daze of surrender.  There was a distance in his gaze, but it was nothing like it had been the last time her hand was on his chest. She wasn’t going to lose him this time. She couldn’t...not with the way he was so focused on her, shimmering so intently...but in a different way than anything she’d ever had before in a moment like this. She had quite the idea of what he wanted right now, but that wasn’t all. There was more, something deeper and more ethereal than she could fully fathom and perhaps he didn’t have it entirely figured out yet either...but that was okay. The full extent of it didn’t matter right now. It was as if he was pleading to take her to this promise land with him, just because he wanted her there. 

He wanted her. 

He wanted her enough to be this delicate, wanted her enough to be this careful, wanted her enough to be this concentrated and immersed. All she wanted to do was to go with him, let him lead wherever he wanted to take her...

“Show me...”

A soft smile elicited as he heard those two words, those two beautiful words…

Absolutely…

Lance reached and tucked that little loose black strand of her hair back into its proper place, taking one last look to admire the spectacle in her eyes; this incredible lightning show with bolts of anticipation zipping through; dazzled between captivation in what was now and beaming in what was to come. Just waiting to ground...

You’re beautiful...God help me, you’re so fucking beautiful…

So much so that he almost didn’t want to close his own eyes, but he had to. He was so close to her...he was so fucking close that he was overpowered by the shock of the sparks flying, deafened by the thunder rumbling through in chest, beyond intoxicated by the influx of humidity drawing from her breath...that the only thing he could do was tilt his head and let his lips finally meet hers. The little hum she welcomed him with sent that wonderfully familiar warm bubbly fizz down his chest, emitting a pleasantly surprised one of his own.

God, she tastes so good...

He could’ve drowned in that saccharine tangerine of her lipstick mixed with their lacquer of Cherry Cola like it was a fountain of ambrosia sustaining him. He couldn’t get enough of it, just like he couldn’t get enough of the fingers running through his hair and the ones digging in his chest because she couldn’t get enough of him either. Not with how soft his lips were...God, he was so fucking smooth that she could feel herself melting into the hand on her cheek as he deepened the kiss.  It wasn’t...supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be an obstacle for him to sloppily endure so he could get onto bigger and better things. He wasn’t supposed to take his time. His sweet, precious, time…

Because she was supposed to have pulled away right now, right as it was starting to get good, either to halt him right in his tracks for good or so she could impatiently take the lead from him and abruptly transition into that next step, knocking his momentum back to square one. She was supposed to be cold when he was hot and be hot when he was lukewarm…but she wasn’t. Kissing him back, she was still bound under this feverous spell with him and it was one that he never ever wanted to break.

But when their lips had to part and they came to a pause to catch their breaths, one look between them proved that this spell wasn’t even close to flickering. The brief influx of fresh air didn’t cool and settle like they feared, it only ramped everything up like the fucking Oakland firestorm when their lips collided together again...and again...and again, their kisses turning into shorter but more fervent bursts. Each one felt like the first time and every one was more amazing than the last, but that festering craving was a fucking killer. It felt selfish, so fucking selfish, to want more of her when he’d already gotten so much, more than he could’ve ever dreamed for tonight, but...God, he just couldn’t help it. 

Neither could she. Her fingers twisted deeper in his shirt, turning up the dial even more by taking him down with her as her back slunk into the booth’s plush vinyl seat. All of his weight was pressed against hers, beating hearts racing against each other. 

It came as a surprise to him, but it was the right kind this time. The heat was white hot now, the volt of adrenaline searing through him sizzled any other thought in his brain that could’ve ever been because this was all that mattered. She was all that mattered and he was charged to keep fucking going like it was all he knew how to do. 

Which meant that he would have to part from her lips again. He didn’t want to, but...there was still so fucking much...so much more to kiss, so much more to touch, so much more to feel...that he couldn’t bear to stay in this one place, as glorious of a place it was. While he knew he couldn’t go too far now, he still had to explore the waters, if only to test them…

Yet, she wasn’t going to let him go so easily. Her teeth gently dug into his bottom lip and tread downwards the second he started pulling away, sinking a little harder the slower he went since he was dragging it out as long as he could...just because. Just because she’d started it, just because he liked it, just because letting go was never easy...even if it was for something better.

And this was going to be so much better. 

Upon being released, he flicked his tongue over his lip before he nuzzled into the crevice of her neck, drawing in the musky aroma of her vanilla perfume as he began his trail of kisses right below her jawline. The initial ticklishness evoked her to let out a soft, sexy, little laugh that had him trying everything not to break like a fool into his second kiss, especially when he felt her arm slide up from his chest and curl around the back of his neck, but in her security, he regained his composure and continued down the curve of her neck. His lips lingered a little longer with each kiss, but he tried to keep it light, damn well knowing that striking a frisky, visible, mark up here was amateur. By daylight, it would lose its luster on her and the significance would spoil into the burden of worrying about which turtlenecks and scarves she could cover it up with. It wasn’t supposed to be for everyone to see anyway. It was their moment to be shared and he wanted her to remember it fondly, not regret it. 

Tomorrow was the last  thing on Deirdre’s mind. Fuck tomorrow. There was no room for it here tonight. All of her focus was tuned in on him and what he was doing to her...which was becoming increasingly difficult now since he was starting to do so much all at once. His left hand had moved out from underneath her cheek when she turned her head that way to give his lips better access, but he slid his right hand around there instead; his fingers securing their place behind her neck and tangling into her hair while his thumb lightly massaged circles over the spot he’d started at. At the same time, his left hand began it’s slow but short venture south; his palm eased between the ribbed lines of her shirt as he cupped the small curve, her breath coming to a hitch when she felt his long fingers contract and lightly squeeze her pert tit.

Whatever dizziness overwhelmed her earlier was nothing in comparison to the sensational wave she was riding now. His busy hands held her in this hypnosis. Words couldn’t even form in her head, much less come out of her mouth, but the soft whine that she hummed was enough to coerce his hand to start working into a steady knead...which only worsened her desperation. She needed to take him and bring him underneath to where his touch could actually relieve the ache that it had mercilessly stirred, but she just couldn’t fucking muster the strength to support the movement...or any other competitive movement that her primal instincts craved to do. It was starting to kill her waiting for her turn to throw him for all the fucking loops like this, to start exploiting his sweet spots so she could hear his sweet sounds. She just wanted to do something now, anything to strike somewhere...but fuck, persevering that fervor was hard to keep when he was in the midst of making her feel so...fucking...good...

Nudging under the pesky but private fabric of her collar, Lance finally reached his trail’s destination, sealing his arrival with a small flick of the tongue over the spot before his lips fully enveloped her collarbone and locked in deeper than he ever had, teeth lightly sinking in as he sucked at the flesh. It invited a low moan from the back of her throat and he couldn’t help but hum a whimper of his own at the deep vibrations that he held. The first long chord of their song of pure, shameless, desire and it was him who had struck it. It was him who was drawing this reaction out of her, creating her complex notes as she swung from the symphony of anguish at the abandonment of his left hand from her favorite spot, to the frenzied panting as he traveled down all of the slender curves of her lithe body and coming to a resting grip on her taut thigh and it was excruciating. 

Jesus motherfucking Christ...he had to get her the fuck out of here and fast. The Fahrenheit was too high to be bearable; he knew that if he kept going, the mercury was going to shoot through and shatter the motherfucking glass and...it couldn’t be here in this cramped booth, where an extended version Foreigner’s Urgent blared so goddamn loud that it was an ironic distraction.  

He slowly lifted his hand off of her thigh, gripping on the edge of the booth instead for balance as he propped himself up off of her chest and slowly opened his eyes…looking down at the sight below of her still reeling in the hazy, half-lidded, brew of aphrodisiac euphoria. She tried to steady her breath some as she tilted her head back to him to find out what was next. Looking up at him through her lashes, her eyes were so lambent that it melted a small, hopeful, smile on the corner of his lip as his hand moved up to caress her warm cheek as he asked…

“Do you wanna continue this back at my place?”

She nodded, sweet smile of her own gracing the lips forming his aching heart’s coveted answer...

“I’m all yours.”