#while burke seems to be going through the motions

[vg-commentary]

Some interesting tidbits about district assignments

Each underboss starts with one district, their "home" district, if you will. You get to decide which additional districts they get, but there's some assignments that some underbosses might like more than the others.

Southdowns - Vito/Cassandra

Pedestrian chatter indicate it had a large, if almost exclusive Italian presence before.

Vito comments on having a "favorite diner in Southdowns."

If you assign Cassandra to Southdowns, some pedestrians are concerned about the Italians and Haitians not getting along. Some pedestrians say they're getting along.

Cassandra says, "Laundry Machines, cigarettes and stereos. Southdowns knows how to turn a dollar out of everyday items. This is real good for us."

In contrast, Burke doesn't have anything interesting to say.

Barclay Mills - Cassandra

The other two comment on Barclay Mills being garbage, but Cassandra has dreams of revitalizing Barclay Mills. Curiously, Emmanuel says that that's because "she never has to go there."

Vito and Alma admit to having little experience with trains and factories.

Tickfaw Harbor - Cassandra/Vito/Burke

Emmanuel comments on the harbor being good for the marijuana business, and Cassandra likes it for general import/export.

Vito and Alma mention that the harbor would make their smuggling operation easier.

Burke and Nicki seems to be more interested in the car rackets.

Downtown - Cassandra

Burke and Vito seem more focused on the money while Cassandra's top priority is power and City Hall.

There's the usual talk about rising crime if Burke or Vito get the district, but with Cassandra, people comment on protests and clashes with the police.

Frisco Fields

All the underbosses seem to like Frisco Fields as a way to spite the wealthy, white residents there, and they don't seem too disappointed if they don't get the district.

Alma is a bit surprised if you give Frisco Fields to Vito.

Nicki dislikes Frisco Fields. It might be because she was in their ER once.

French Ward - Cassandra/Burke

Cassandra and Emmanuel mentions taking care of the sex workers there.

Burke likes vice and the rackets but Nicki seems more exasperated because of him.

Vito has little experience with the rackets there, but he seems to want to run it. Alma has no desire to run the sex rackets.

There's also some common themes in the chatter around each underboss's assignment.

Vito: Increased Italian presence, crime, protection rackets. People also comment on increased Italian cuisine. Memorable quote: "Guess what's at every crime scene lately in Frisco Fields? Marinara."

Burke: Increased Irish presence, moonshine, robberies.

Cassandra: Increased Haitian and black presence. The commentary is usually just racist remarks, but black pedestrians comment on increased black businesses and diversity.

[actualbird]

Congratulations on the second volume of The Behavioural Studies of NXX!!!!! I adored having all your analyses in a compilation to read through, and I've been having a blast rereading them and remembering what my state of mind when they were released was. Your analyses of these characters have influenced and shaped my understanding of them and in turn gotten me to interpret them more critically in a way no other fandom, let alone single writer, has and I think that's an incredible accomplishment.

So far, I've only reached the Rosa playlist analysis, but that actually got me thinking a bit about her, particularly the bit about her wanting to be the main character and the bit you quoted from 5-3. Admittedly the reason why I thought about her desure to be the protagonist stems from slightly comedic reasons because uhhh //glances at the water tank she and Artem got trapped in, Luke personal story 3, Sauna,,,,,

Yeah I wonder if she'd wish quite as hard to be the main character had she known these things were in her future. Something else that was wild to me about this is that the case that set the wheels in motion for all this to happen, for mc becoming the main character, was a case about water poisoning. It's not as simple as that of course and showed ToT's brand of evil that's always grey and not black or white even all the way back then, but ultinately the case was still about water poisoning, which is So Mundane compared to all the dangerous drugs and murder and black market auctions that are going around now. I don't think mc regrets her actions. She's shown that more than enough in the main story, you've even quoted her own thoughts that indicate she's firm in her resolve. But when I think back to main story 1 mc, I don't quite think she feels the same way.

One thing that stuck out to me while going through main story 1 again is the choice you need to make in the trial section, to present the incriminating footage or not, where she can hesitates to present the necessary evidence for justice to be served, and can continue to hesitate if the player chooses not to present it, where she needs to be encouraged by Vernon Green himself to present it and ensure justice is served.

Yes, this was a choice and ultinately she was thinking more about how it would impact Vernon Green than the perpetrator, but it still shows a bit of uncertainty regarding delivering justice in these difficult situations. I think the fact that this is even a Choice matters a lot, actually, because in cases with arguably more at stake like Main Story 3 where an entire child whose development has been stunted due to taking illegal medicine's mother is about to be convicted for murdering the person responsible for said child's condition, it's not even a choice to waver in pursuing justice.

I wonder if Main Story 1 mc would've been able to do the same thing, and think about Main Story 6 where what Irene Burke went through was so horrible people from all corners of the fandom were debating, sometimes even fighting, over whether she should've been allowed to get away with her murders. I really, really doubt main story 1 mc would've been able to remain firm in her convictions.

I think reading through your analysis and in turn Main Story 1 made me realise that mc's developed a lot too, even if it doesn't really seem like it at first. I used to think that mc, while she definitely has developed a little, didn't really grow as much as the NXX boys due to her status as an intended self insert, but I see her in Main Story 1 and her in the current story multiple years later and I'm a little floored at how her conviction has grown. She still lets herself feel and empathise with the culprits and the people close to them, but she's never wavered in the same way she did in Main Story 1,

Xgjxiyfiyf Sorry for overtaking this praise ask about the journal with my own thoughts!!!! To bring this back around to its intended point I guess it shows how much your analyses have impacted the way I view these characters that I can even write this out. It's enriched my experience with ToT in a way I never thought possible. I think the Rosa playlist analysis isn't one that I actually read before because back then I wasn't super into mc as a character or character playlists, but getting to read it now really shows how much I was missing out on. Another thing I have to thank you and the journal for, I suppose.

🌌

WAHHHH oh my gosh, hi milkyway anon!! long time no see, and hhhHH thank you SO MUCH for reading “The Journal of NXX Investigation Team Behavioral Studies: Vol 2” and for your kind words about it ;w;

on your thoughts about mc gOSH i dont think i have anything to add because i so much agree!!! main story 1 mc and main story 10 mc are very different people because of how much she had developed. i love your use of the word "conviction" because thats exactly it. mc started with a simple case, she started with doubts and hesitation, but as the cases got messier and worse like....hesitation was not an option, not if she wanted to continue bringing the justice she so stalwartly believes in. as the cases got worse, she stepped up to the challenge, for the lack of better wording. i think main story 1!mc would be so proud and amazed at how independent and capable main story!10 mc is

i also think she'd be scared

because YEAH, HOO BOY, A LOT HAS HAPPENED TO MC BECAUSE SHE IS THE MC.

i agree that earlier!mc wouldnt have been as firm but thats another reason narratively i guess why the cases were upped and upped in stakes. both for the mounting tension of the overarching story, but to get mc to grow. and grow she did, as the circumstances of the cases got heavier and heavier.

it's kinda like that metaphor about slowly boiling a crab, yknow. we went from mc in main story 1 who hesitated in presenting key evidence, to mc in main story 10 who [main story 10 spoilers] in The Sauna, upon thinking she was Gonna Die, immediately started thinking of how to Leave Evidence On Her Body for other to find by using a Branding Iron On Herself

main story 1!mc: WHO ARE YOU?!?!???

main story 10!mc, trembling a bit from the Trauma: im you but suuuuuper metal 🤘

HVSJFHSVKDJFHDS JOKES ASIDE, it's a Whole Ride remembering how far mc has come because she has! even if this game is more focused on the boys' development, it is unmistakeable that shes grown along with them, and for that, im so proud of her. i dont think she'd ever regret where her life took her, she just doesnt seem like the type, and for all her doubts in the beginning and even the new doubts she gets later on, mc still holds strong to her conviction and dedication.

in conclusion: gosh dang i love miss mc rosa qiangwei <3

thank you again for reading!!! and for this lovely ask :DDD

[kholkate]

Watson stayed up the night going through his old copies of the Edinburgh medical journal; he was pleased to find the article on Burkes that Ham had told him about. He read where the man was in his late 30s and had gotten his education in Germany, he specialized in experimental and difficult surgeries. This piqued his interest, he looked forward to meeting this man, someone who seemed so talented yet so cruel. 

With morning light starting to come through the windows he felt rather worn out, it would take coffee to help him get a second wind. Putting his journals away he went in to see about his patient, he saw that Holmes was awake and rubbing his tightly wrapped rib cage. 

“In pain?” Watson queried. He checked his pulse and then his head for fever.

“Yes and tired of being in this bed. You haven't slept,” Holmes commented, looking up at his friend.

“Your fever seems to have gone down, I'm pleased with that. As for your being in bed, I'm sorry but you'll just have to be satisfied here for a while longer. And yes, I was up all night, doing some research,” Watson said. He set about drawing some cocaine into a syringe, though he knew Homles could do it himself he couldn't help but assist. 

“Oh? There was information you didn't tell me that your friend told you?” Holmes asked, though he felt confident that he knew.

“Yes. He made mention that Burkes had been featured in an Edinburgh medical journal. I spent the night looking for it and read up on him. It will give me a slight advantage when I meet him today,” Watson informed. He injected Holmes with the drug.

“Do remember to tell me every detail of your encounter with him. Try to take mental note of everything,” Holmes encouraged. A look of relief washed over his face as the drug was once again in his system. 

“I will try. We must try to dispel of this practice quickly, Holmes. Ham told me Burkes wasn't in yesterday because he was out to see a patient, his next victim no doubt,” Watson said. He took the syringe to put away and had his back to his friend as he spoke.

“Already at work then… blast this rib!” Sherlock pounded his fist on the bed in frustration. 

“You mustn't upset yourself. You also must eat today, if you ever expect to get well,” Watson said. He lingered by the door as he prepared to depart for the day.

“I am in no mood to eat,” Sherlock said, eyes brooding.

“You need nourishment, Holmes. But I haven't the time nor the will to argue with you about it now. I will see you a little later,” Watson bid.

“Do be careful, old friend,” Holmes warned.

Watson nodded and left, bundling up in a coat, hat and gloves as the snow fell outside. 

The ride to the hospital was quiet and cold and he was more than glad to be going through the doors of the hospital. He once again took to the maze to get to his friend's office, this time when he arrived Hamstead wasn't alone, another younger man sat by him having a cuppa.

“John! Good morning. You're just in time, this is the man you want to meet, Dr. Burkes this is Dr. Watson, an admirer of yours,” Hamstead introduced. He motioned them one to another.

Burkes stood and extended his arm. “Dr. Watson, it's good to meet you,” he said. 

“Dr. Burkes, the pleasure is all mine. I have wanted to meet you as I have an interest in your studies,” Watson said. He took in the younger man before him, blonde with blue eyes and strong jaw, formidable physically. 

“Oh? In surgeries then?” Burkes asked, he smiled but it didn't touch his eyes.

“Yes. You have done remarkable work and I hope that you might have some time to talk about it with me?” Watson asked.

“Oh of course! I would love to talk with you about it. Why don't you allow me to treat you to tea? You can be my guest at my club,” “Burkes suggested, amiable.

“Oh well, that's very kind of you. Thank you, doctor,” Watson said.

“Just allow me to make some rounds and I will have my coachman pull up in the front of the hospital for us,” Burkes said, and he gave Watson a pat on the shoulder.

Watson felt a rush of nerves at that, his opportunity to learn was coming up, he carefully went over questions in his head as he began to slowly walk back to the front of the hospital. Hamstead accompanied him, talking about the latest in influenza treatments, Watson would nod at appropriate internals but didn't speak. They lingered by the door until Burkes rejoined them, this time in coat and hat and they said their goodbyes to Hamstead before going out to the coach that was waiting.

“Dr. Hamstead tells me you served in India, very admirable,” Burkes said.

“It was an honor to serve my country. I have read that you received your medical education in Germany. There are some fine medical colleges there,” Watson brought up. 

“Oh yes, I studied in Heidelberg. I may be biased but I think it is the best place to go for surgery techniques,” Burkes commented.

“I have heard good things about Heidelberg University. I haven't performed a surgery since I left the service, I am more of a general practitioner now, but that doesn't mean I am not interested in the latest techniques as you say,” Watson said.

They arrived shortly at the club, entering in a flurry of snow, they found a table easily by the bar once inside. They talked shop while they ate, and Watson almost got caught up in Burkes being that charming person that even he himself had talked about. So when the meal was winding down he knew he had to bring the conversation back to things he wanted to learn.

“This has been such an excellent morning, doctor. I am pleased we met each other,” Burkes smiled, swirling his brandy.

“So am I. And I am glad that your parents could send you to medical school so you could help so many people,” Watson said, watching keenly for reaction. 

Burkes immediately looked down and frowned. “Yes… no one understood how I want to help people like them,” he said.

Watson soaked that in, there was definitely a story in that that he knew he had to uncover. Just as he was about to inquire further a waiter came with a message on a tray and gave it to Burkes, he opened it and read it.

“Oh, it appears that I have to go. My latest patient, Mrs. Collins, is in need of me,” Burkes said. 

“Oh, that's sad to hear. But it was a pleasure, doctor,” Watson said. Standing, they shook hands.

“I hope to speak with you again. Good day,” Burkes said. 

Watson nodded and watched as he walked away, noting how he met up with another man that Watson couldn't see his face. He slowly moved forward from the table to follow them but the boy by the door stopped him to ask if he had his coat, by the time he got out they were gone.

He was disappointed that he couldn't get a look at whoever went off with Dr. Burkes, he thought about it the whole way home. Once to Baker Street he got out of the cab and paid, turning around he saw a man with a cane walking by, he turned to Watson and swung his cane, hitting him with force on the legs. 

The man ran away as Watson fell, face going onto the snow covered sidewalk, he could hear the cabbie yelling at the man while he forced himself up to look. 

“Are you alright, sir?” The cabbie asked, getting down to help him up.

Watson didn't answer right away, the throbbing of his leg was distracting, it might not have hurt so much had it not been where his old wound was.

“Fine, cabbie. Thank you,” Watson said.

The man helped him to the door and he went in, standing by it a moment to gather himself. He knew whoever had done this to him was the same one who had beaten Holmes and he felt it was the same man from the club. If Holmes knew who that was he wanted to know, before anything could happen to them.

The Case of the Counterfeit Surgeon Chapter 4.

[hells-wells]

Don't Blame The Movies 4

Scream

1996

Casey Becker and Steve Orth have been found brutally murdered, Who is responsible for this awful act? Who is next? what happens next? Everyone is a suspect, some more than others.

Billy X Rader, Stu X Reader, Billy X Stu X Reader.......... ****Warnings for this chapter----- swearing, jealousy, possessive behaviour, some true crime info drop, mentions of real-life serial killers.

Casey Becker and Steve Orth were brutally murdered last night, the town is in shock, and everyone is on edge. I was sitting in class with Randy when a knock on the door sent everyone silent, the middle-aged male teacher turned “Y/n, it appears to be your turn…”

I was greeted by Dewey’s grim face “Hey.” was all that I could muster, he tried smiling as he lead me to Principal Himbry’s office. “After you.” Dewey motioned to the empty chair, he sat across from you, along with Sheriff Burke, you noted that Principal Himbry stood next to you. “This won’t take long.” You nodded, Himbry was always kind, a little overbearing sometimes but he meant well.

“Did you know Casey Becker?” Burke’s face was unreadable as he watched your every move.

“From around school, yes.” You tried keeping your cool.

“What about Steven Orth?”

“Same thing, we didn’t hang out, so I didn’t really know them.”

“Ah-huh… We’ve been made aware of rumours?”

You sighed “Steve started them, yes.”

“Bet his girlfriend wasn’t too happy about them?”

“Not really...”

“How would you describe your relationship with the two?” “I didn’t have a relationship with either…” Biting your lip trying to figure out the best way to say it “We didn’t click…”

Dewey leaned in “Sheriff, I think that’s all we need?”

Sheriff Burke kept eye contact with you “For now.”

You sighed making your way to the fountain, finding Randy and Stu already there. “Hey…” You sat down on the cold floor, digging through your bag, not that you were hungry after that.

“How did it go?” Randy asked.

“Great…” You sarcastically gave. “Burke didn’t seem impressed with the rumours.”

“Ha! Of course not, you’re a good suspect.”

Both you and Stu glared at him.

“What? I can’t be the only one thinking it?” He protested.

You rolled your eyes “Yeah, well if I’m a suspect then so are you. Remember that fight I saved you from when Steve and his friends wanted to kick your arse?” You pointed it out. 

“Fair point, but that gives you more reason.” You could tell he was growing more determined.

“Come on man, does y/n look like she could take out Steven and hang Casey?” He scruffed your hair.

“Hmmm, maybe someone did it for her.”He wondered out loud.

“Considering I can’t even get a date, what makes you think someone would go all Bates for me?” You copied the stabbing motion with the eh eh eh eh sound. "Besides everyone in the group." You smirked.

That made them both laugh “That’s true, welcome to the dateless club!” You high-fived Randy.

“What’s the goss?” Tatum asked walking up.

“How I’m dateless and might be a suspect.” You lightly laughed. 

“Well, I can always help with the dating part, not sure about the suspect thing though. I’m sure they had a big list of people that didn’t like them.” She noted while sitting next to Stu.

You nodded “That’s true.”

Billy and Sidney followed behind her, taking their spots on the fountain, the topic didn’t die down, with everyone swapping questions you weren't paying much attention, Tatum's voice brought you out of your thoughts.

“Hunt? Why would they ask if you like to hunt?” Tatum asked the boys, taking another bite of her food. 

“I don’t know, they just did.” Stu shrugged.

Randy leaned toward Tatum “It’s because their bodies were gutted”

“Thanks for that Randy” Billy glared at Randy, but quickly switches his gaze to you.

You could see the confusion on her face “They didn’t ask me if like to hunt, did they ask you y/n?” 

“No” You mumbled out, trying to think of who would want to kill them, sure you weren’t a big fan but to do that but Tatum was right, it's a big list.

“Because there’s no way a girl could have killed them,” Stu smirked, looking around the group. She stared at Stu “That is so sexist. The killer could easily be female, basic instinct.” Tatum stated.

“That was an ice pick. Not exactly the same.” Randy stole another handful of her snacks, popping one into his mouth.

“Yeah, Casey and Steve were completely hollowed out. Takes a man to do something like that.” Stu mused.

“Or a man’s mentality.” rolling her eyes, she turned to you “Help me out here.”

“There’s Pamula Voorhees and Kathy Bates.” You shrugged.

“How’s that list coming?” Billy asked a small smirk pulled at his lips.

“That’s in the movies, if we argue with true crime there are plenty of female killers. Aileen Wuornos, Lizzie Borden, Belle Gunness and Jane Toppan… that’s not excluding couples like the Ken and Barbie killers, Mayra and Ian Brady, just to name a few.” You smirked back.

“Exactly!” Tatum smiled, her point being made. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Randy rolled his eyes “Forgot who we were talking to.”

“How do you gut someone?” Sidney wondered out loud. 

Everyone was silent for a moment before Stu cut in “You take a knife and slit them from groin to sternum.” Not understanding how uncomfortable this topic was making Sidney. You weren’t paying attention to everyone else, you were focusing on sid, feeling guilty for not thinking about how this must be bringing back bad memories. 

The bell rang, breaking the group's silence, you watched as Tatum ran off after Sidney, dragging Stu along to apologize. “I still say we should be smart and stay in groups!” Randy nudged your elbow.

“I’m not disagreeing but it’s only been two people.” It came out colder than you had meant.

“Because that’s not suspicious,” Randy noted.

“I just think before we go into full panic, we need to wait and see. So far there isn’t a pattern and who’s to say whoever it is, isn’t going after that crowd.” You simply gave.

Randy paused “Famous last words, all I’m saying.” before darting off to class, leaving you and Billy alone.

“Don’t sound too brokenhearted over there.”

You sighed “I do feel bad but not that they died…” he leaned in closer, making sure no one else could hear “Then what?” Your voice was barely above a whisper “It’s the fact that I couldn’t care less…” You paused looking for a reaction “I know, I’m horrible.” He chewed his bottom lip “No, you’re not… Look, they made your life hell, that bitch and her bullshit... Come on.” 

The rest of the day went slowly, you were relieved once you were home. The hours went by, and before you knew it, it was night, 7 Pm.

“Yes, I will… Mom, I know how to lock the doors.” You couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes as you paced the kitchen. “I can come home.” she sounded unsure.

“I’m fine, you’re due back tomorrow anyway?” You asked while double-checking a side door.

“Maybe, Bob was asking if I could stay a few more days but if you need me home-”

You cut her off “If you’re worried I can try to stay at friends.” It didn’t matter, she wasn’t home often as it was and she would just go on and on about how you ruined her trip if she actually choose you over whoever she was seeing this month. “Alright, just remember to set the alarm and ask if one of the boys can stay over. I’d feel better with one there with you.”

You couldn't stop yourself from rolling your eyes "Sure, I’ll get right on that.” You replied sarcastically “I’m gonna head off and shower.”

“Ok, love you.”

“Love you too, bye.”

The hot water felt good, and you stayed in there as long as you could, finally stepping out and drying yourself off the sound of the phone cutting through the house

It’s probably Mom again.

“Hello?”

Next

[whatisthiswritingthing]

I’m Ready - Emily Sonnett x Reader

Prompt: Where R is a single foster parent and it got me thinking.

R has not had a placement for awhile (but still has her foster license) and Sonnett planed the date to ask R to move in with her but when she ask R, R was shocked and telling Sonnett that she doesn’t think it will be a good idea because of her being a foster parent and could get a call at any given time and Sonnett telling R that she does not care and would like to help her out. Then R gets the call for a placement and has to leave the date but Sonnett get up with her and basically like I am going with you and you can’t stop me. When they get to the hospital R sees how gentle and soft Sonnett is with the baby and tells her that yes they will move in her.

Where the R is a single foster parent ( been for a while before they started to date) and while Sonnett and R is on a date and R gets a call about a foster placement (a 3 month old baby) and feels bad for leaving the date but Sonnett insist on coming her and helping her out. But when she founds out that it’s a baby sonnett gets so nervous and scared.

Note, couple prompt rolled into one here. 

“She didn’t say anything when you asked?” Kelley asked from the couch, watching Sonnett pace back and forth through the living room, stopping occasionally to randomly adjust everything that was already perfectly in place.

“I didn’t even get a chance!” the blonde turned around quickly, throwing her hands up.

“What do you mean?” the defender tilted her head to the side, Emily flopping her hands back to her sides and beginning to move throughout the room, “slow down and explain what happened.”

Emily sighed, moving to perch on the edge of arm of the couch. Biting the edge of her thumb, she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, “I don’t know,” she shrugged defeated, “we had plans last night, she seemed like she was really looking forward to it. I picked her up, she looked gorgeous,” a small smile on her face, dropping as she continued, “the night was great, dinner was romantic, we were every gross romantic cliché. Then on our walk, I got nervous, and I couldn’t get the words out.”

Kelley moved to the blonde, rubbing a soothing hand up and down her back, encouraging her to continue, tugging the thumb away from her teeth, squeezing her hand.

“And she was so sweet about it, said I could talk to her about anything, she had pulled me to the side of the path, held both my hands and just gave me the softest smile,” she paused, smiling softly while she thought about the night before, “then I don’t know what happened. I finally got the nerve to start asking and she got all weird and said she needed to go and bolted.”

Having sat long enough, the defender got up and began pacing the room again. Kelley furrowed her brow, confused at how quickly Y/N had changed on the date the night before. Y/N was always so patient with the blonde, giving her the opportunity to explain herself, reassuring her when she was anxious about how she worded things.

“Have you guys talked since?”

Sonnett shook her head sadly, “I tried to call her last night, but she didn’t answer and I sent a couple texts, nothing there either.”

Kelley got up and pulled the blonde into a hug, “I’m sorry Em.”

Emily struggled in the hold for a second before collapsing into it and allowing the hug, “maybe this means she isn’t interested in long term,” she mumbled into the brunette’s neck.

“You guys have been together for two years, she requested a trade to Washington just to be with you,” Kelley squeezed her, “do you really think she isn’t serious about this?”

She shrugged meekly in the hug.

“See if she says anything at practice this afternoon. Don’t overthink yourself too far before you know what to overthink.”

Sonnett just shrugged again, tugging herself away, fumbling around the apartment, picking up her equipment, “let’s get to training then.”

Practice was about to start, but Y/N had yet to show up.

“Sonnett, where’s Y/L/N?” Burke called, looking around the field.

“I’m not her keeper,” the blonde grunted out, before her eyes went wide, “sorry coach, I’m not sure where she is today.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” Y/N called as she rushed out to the field, one cleat on, hoping on one foot while she struggled to pull the other on while still moving, shin guards tucked under arms, “It will never happen again, I’m so sorry Coach.”

Burke gave her a hard look, motioning for everyone to focus up and began his pre-practice talk. Y/N crashed down hard, having tripped over her untied cleat, “fuck,” she tugged the other cleat on.

Sonnett watched on as Y/N spoke with Burke after the meeting off to the side. Burke nodded along, smiling as Y/N spoke, giving her a pat on the back as the soccer player jogged away.

The rest of practice Y/N seemed distracted, constantly glancing over to the trainers on the sideline.

“You good?” Emily stood next to her at a water break, concerned for how different her girlfriend seemed during practice.

She never got a response as one of the trainers called Y/N’s name, motioning to the cell phone in her hand, and she took off. The blonde watched as Y/N answered the phone, walking away and beginning to pace the sideline, plugging a finger in her ear when the whistle blew.

“What’s that all about?” Kelley asked the blonde.

“I don’t know,” Sonnett tracked her girlfriend, noting how frustrated she was getting on the call.

Practice resumed, Y/N joining again at some point, more distracted than before.

“We’ve got to talk,” Kelley shoved the soccer player down the hall after practice, pushing her away from the change room.

“Kel, I don’t have time for this,” Y/N pulled her arm out of Kelley’s grasp, working to make her way back towards the change room.

“No, you have time,” Kelley tightened her hold, keeping Y/N in place.

Y/N released a sigh, tilting her chin to the brunette, waiting for her to continue.

“Do you love Emily, or are you just with her for the fun of it?” she began harshly.

“Fuck you Kelley,” Y/N ripped her arm out, glaring at her, “do you actually have something to say, or would you like to just belittle my relationship?”

“She was going to ask you to move in with her,” Kelley softened.

The glare immediately left Y/N’s face, “oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” now the brunette glared at her, not saying anything and just watching Y/N, waiting for her to say something else, “fix this,” Kelley pointed firmly at her before walking away.

Y/N slowly walked back to the change room, reading the new email on her phone as she went, plopping into her locker and running a hand over her face.

Emily came and sat next to her, “I saw Kelley kidnapped you,” she tried to joke.

Y/N sighed, rolling her head to look at the blonde, giving her a sad smile, “something like that. I’m sorry about last night Emily.”

“It’s alright Y/N, can you tell me what happened?”

Y/N looked away, letting out a slow controlled breath, “I need to tell you something,” she started nervously.

“Can we not do this here?” Emily whispered, nervously looking around the change room, seeing the few lingering players.

“Shit, not that Em,” Y/N quickly shook her head, “but, uhh, you’re definitely right, not here.”

The pair both nervously gathered their things, awkwardly walking next to each other out of the stadium. The awkwardness continued as they walked into Emily’s apartment, neither of them knowing how to start or what to say.

“We can’t live together,” Y/N finally cut the awkward silence.

Emily clenched her jaw and nodded her head dejectedly.

“God Emily, I’m crazy about you, for you. But I think we are better living apart, at least for a little bit,” Y/N didn’t know how to explain how much she loved Emily but why it wouldn’t be a good idea for them to live together, how unfair it be to the blonde if they lived together, “I love you.”

Now Emily scoffed at hearing that, rolling her eyes and looking to the ceiling, “what, you love me but you’re just not in love with me? It’s not you it’s me? What cliché line are you going to drop before you break up with me?”

“No, I don’t want to break up with you,” Y/N recoiled, shaking her head, not expecting the aggressiveness in the blonde’s tone.

“Then, what the fuck is going on? I was ready to ask you to move in yesterday and now you’re being all weird and saying it’s a bad idea, and saying you don’t want to break up, but very much acting how someone would before they break up.”

Emily let all her frustration out, hands firmly on her hips as she started hard at her girlfriend.

Y/N nodded along while the blonde ranted.

“There was a screw up, or not really a screw up, but my name was passed along without me knowing,” Y/N sighed, sitting hesitantly on the edge of the couch cushion, “I was a foster parent back in in Seattle, and I guess they need them here, and the social worker from there moved here and uhh added me to the list.”

“So?” the blondes anger not going anywhere, not understanding why this meant they couldn’t live together.

“They want to give me a kid, uhh a baby actually,” Y/N looked down, rubbing her hand on the back if her neck.

Emily dropped her hands, eyes shooting wide, not expecting that answer.

“I said maybe, only if they can’t find anyone else and only short term. So, I might not be getting one, but uhh, I didn’t want you to feel trapped if I did get one.”

Sonnett opened and closed her mouth, she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know if she was ready for a baby, but she knew she was ready for Y/N, so she was probably ready to try.

Y/N’s phone began to ring on the coffee table, she glanced to the phone and to Emily, before picking up the phone when she saw the expression on the blondes face. Not able to interpret it, she picked up the phone and began to walk into the hall.

Emily nervously moved around the apartment while she waited for Y/N to come back inside. Yesterday she was going to ask Y/N to move in with her, and now she’s considering if she is ready to help take care of a kid with her. They had been together for a while now, Y/N uprooted her whole life to be near Emily, she wasn’t forcing her to help either, hadn’t asked her at all.

Did that mean Y/N didn’t think Emily was serious about them? That she didn’t think Emily could handle a baby? That she didn’t see a future with them? A future baby of their own?

She was brought out of her thoughts when Y/N slowly walked back inside, gently closing the door behind her. Y/N tapped the edge of her phone against her palm, refusing to look up.

“I have to go,” she started softly, “I’m sorry I made you think I wanted to break up, I love you, Emily.” She took a couple steps forward, kissing Emily on the cheek, nodding to herself and making her way back to the door.

“Wait!” Emily rushed forward, stopping Y/N before she could leave, “I want to come.”

“Emily,” Y/N smiled sadly at the blonde, “I’m on my way to pick up a baby right now.”

“I know, I want to come.”

Y/N watched her, determining if she was serious. Nodding, she smiled and reached out to hold the blondes hand and lead her out.

Sonnett listened as Y/N spoke to the social worker, trying to take in all the new information. That the baby had been delivered the night before, that the mom wasn’t prepared for a baby and dad wasn’t in the picture at all, no other family available to take care of the baby.

She could feel her palms sweat the more they spoke, this baby was already in a position where no one wanted it, she wasn’t prepared to be another disappointment in the small humans short life.

“You don’t have to stay Em,” Y/N leaned over and whispered after the social worker walked away, “you didn’t sign up for this, I know it’s a lot.”

“No, I’m here,” she rubbed her palms on her pants, “I’m ready,” she straightened up, giving Y/N a determined smile, “did you do this lots in Seattle?”

“This will be my second baby, but I had a few toddlers, couple children. This will be my eighth all together though,” Y/N kept her eyes down the hallway, waiting for the social worker to come back with the baby.

“How did you do it with travelling for both teams?”

“I agreed for short term ones only, and I had a few really good friends that were able to watch them during practice or the odd away game. Luckily, we always get all our schedules far enough in advance I can plan pretty far ahead,” Y/N explained, “this one is a little unexpected though, so I’ll figure it out.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Emily corrected.

“What?” Y/N looked next to her, pausing the mental planning she was doing, organizing everything she would need to get done.

“We’ll figure it out, together,” she clarified again, “I’m in this with you Y/N.”

“Really Emily, you don’t need to help, but I guess, just uhh, now you know.”

Sonnett didn’t say anything as the social worker rounder the corner with a small baby wrapped in a blanket. Y/N stepping away to meet her halfway, gently taking the baby into her arms, rocking it back and forth.

Emily couldn’t help the smile on her face, the gentle smile on Y/N’s face as she stared down at the baby pulling one of her own. She walked up behind Y/N, sliding an arm around her waist, Y/N turned and smiled at her.

“Want to hold her?” Y/N turned slightly, offering her the baby.

Sonnett nodded nervously, wiping her hands before taking the baby into her arms. Y/N mimicked Emily and wrapped an arm around her waist.

“I’m really glad you agreed to this Y/N,” the social worker cut in, interrupting their little bubble.

Y/N smiled in return, giving her a nod, looking back to Emily holding the baby.

“Do you want me to take a picture? You guys are adorable,” the social worker reached a handout for Y/N’s phone. Taking the picture, she handed the phone back, “everything is in order, I’ll check in in a couple days. You look really happy Y/N,” she patted Y/N on the arm as she walked away.

“Ready to go home?” Y/N asked, taking the baby back from Emily, sliding a hand down to hold the blondes and guide her out of the hospital.

“I’m ready,” Emily kissed Y/N on the cheek before placing a delicate one on the babies forehead.

[alwaysgurl43]

Her Missing Partner

 Word Count: 1564

Warnings: None that I can think of

Author’s Note: This is a #Beckettines21 gift for  @caskettinlove​. I tried to incorporate some of the things you love into it and this fits in to the timeline right before 4x22 (Originally it was going to split into the episode but my muse did not work that way. I did rewatch the episode just for you though:D) Enjoy!

Coffee had always been their special thing. Even when nothing in the day went right or their case was nothing but dead ends- they always had coffee. Usually Castle was the one bringing it to her, but sometimes she returned the favor. But something about this case- the case of her missing partner- adding with the lack of caffeine that was making it where she couldn’t figure out the missing piece. She couldn’t come to terms with the missing piece. Or maybe she just didn’t want to come to terms with it.

Castle is the missing piece. Even when they don’t have active cases, he’s usually here trying to throw out anything to drive her crazy. But he hasn’t been here in almost twenty four hours. Kate’s eyebrows pull together as she stares at the murder board, filled with the information from the case they closed yesterday. Castle should be here. He always has a place to fit here like a missing puzzle piece fits into a puzzle, but it almost feels like he doesn’t want his place any longer. There’s something that is pushing him farther away, and the only thing that would make sense can’t possibly be true. The only thing she could think is pushing him away would be if he found out that she remembers, that she lied. But how could he?

“No Castle?” Espo’s voice cuts into her thoughts. While she might be missing hers, his partner is by his side. 

“Uh, I haven’t heard from him today. But where are you at with finishing up the write up?”

“Maybe don’t make him make the first step.” Ryan throws out, ignoring her question.

“What do you mean?” 

“Phones work both directions.” Espo tacks on before the two head off towards their own projects.

She knows the boys are right. She should reach out to Castle. Finding out what’s going through his mind, why he’s running from her, how to fix everything. Maybe, coffee can help with this too.

Standing outside his door, cups in hand, she realizes the thing she didn’t think about. How is she going to knock on the door with two cups of coffee? Moving from foot to foot, she finally stacks the cups on top of each other so she has a hand to knock. On the other side, she can heard noises, so someone is definitely home, she’s just not sure who will answer the door.

“Ka-Beckett? What are you doing here?”

“Thought my partner could use a caffeine boost. I figured you had to be writing.” She holds the cup out to him and could almost laugh at their accidentally twinning. The navy of his button down matches hers. Her jeans could literally be cut from the same cloth as his, apart from how skinny hers are. “Great minds.” She mentions, motioning towards their clothing.

“Yeah, something like that. Did I forget I had to be somewhere? I usually only get home visits if I did.”

“No. I mean not technically. We haven’t seen you in…” Kate trails off, not wanting to admit her tracking of how long it’s been since she saw him. “I thought I should check in on you.”

“I’m fine. Just busy. I have a life outside the 12th remember?” The words are harsh and unforgiving as they leave his lips. His eyes have gone icy instead of the ocean warmth she normally feels.

“What did I do, Castle?” She wants to fix this. She wants to make everything better so that she can have him back, her partner, her… her Castle.

“Why does everything have to be about you, Kate?” He counters harshly. 

“If it wasn’t about me, why are you so angry with me?” Kate can’t stop the hand that comes to rest on her hip. “If you need to yell, yell at me. But please don’t shut me out Castle.”

“Isn’t that how you prefer things to be done though? It wasn’t me that hid away for months. I leave you be for not even two days and suddenly you’re knocking down my door, making demands?”

“Because this isn’t you. You’re the dependable one. You’re the one I know that I can turn to when I need someone to bounce ideas off of or find a crazy theory that just might fit a case. You’re not the one who goes running. That’s me. I run, but I’m trying to get better. Trying to make it where we no longer don’t talk about the things that matter.”

“You’re actually wanting to talk about things now? Did you ever think it might be too late for that?” 

“I’m hoping it’s not. Because someone taught me that hope is a powerful thing. And I have a lot of it now. So whatever I did, talk to me Castle, because I can’t figure it out.”

Finally, Castle can’t keep it in anymore. “It’s what you didn’t do.” The words slip out on one breath. “Why couldn’t you just tell me? You lied to me for months instead of just telling me and letting me off easily.”

“Let you off easily? Castle, what are you talking about?” He knows she lied. But how he figured it out and when, she has no idea.

“Just because I feel a certain way didn’t mean that you had to. That wasn’t why I told you. I told you how I felt because I couldn’t live without you knowing. Especially when…” He trails off before starting a new thought. “But no one said you had to feel the same way. I get it- I’m frustrating and childish and there are times when I don’t know where the line is drawn. But even with all of that, I don’t think I deserved being lied to. You could have just told me Kate. I could have dealt with you not feeling the same way. But lying to me, for months? What kind of a partner- no what kind of a person does that?”

Kate can only focus on one part of what he said. “You think I lied to you because I don’t feel the same way?”

Castle seems to ignore this question. “You shut me out. It’s so common at this point it didn’t even surprise me. When things are hard, you run from it. But, if you had just told me, I would have gotten out of your hair.” Castle tacks on, running a hand through his own.

“That’s the last thing I ever wanted Castle.”

“What do you want then? Because I’ve tried looking at this from every angle and there’s none that make any sense. If you don’t feel the same, why keep me around?”

“No one said I don’t feel the same Castle.” Kate pushes a lock of hair behind her ear. “Well, no one but you.” A rarity happens with that statement, the writer lost for words. 

“I-you-what?”

“No one said I don’t feel the same way except for you.” Kate repeats the sentiment. Maybe it will click with him that she does feel the same, she just didn’t know how to bring it up after all this time had passed. 

“If that were the case, why did you lie?” Castle doesn’t seem to be letting this get his hopes up. He’s been dealing with this for the past few weeks. He’d already accepted that Kate would never be with him. So why now? Why say this?

“The same reason I built a wall. If I let people get close it risks them getting hurt and I couldn’t risk that, not with you Rick. I learned over time that if I was strong on my own, that others wouldn’t-couldn’t worm their way in to break me. It was easier.”

“It sounds lonelier.”

“Maybe. But I lost someone I loved when I was young. I didn’t want to risk that kind of hurt again. You said it yourself. I hide in relationships with men I don’t love. It’s easier than risking everything and losing it all.”

“So hiding, running, all of that is to stop your heart from getting hurt?” Castle prompts. Kate nods slowly, before taking a long sip of the latte that will always remind her of Castle.

“That’s what Dr. Burke says I’ve been doing too. What he’s been trying to get me to not do anymore I guess.”

“Dr. Burke?”

“My therapist. He’s been helping me for a while.”

“I didn’t know you were in therapy.”

“I didn’t want to make excuses anymore. I wanted to be able to face everything that happened that day and no longer run from it.”

“And are you there?”

“Almost. And that wall I was telling you about, I think it’s almost all the way down. I’d like my partner to be there when it comes down.”

“I’d like to be there too.” Castle admits.

“So will you come back? To the 12th? The boys miss you.”

“I think I can. If the boys are missing me after all. Can’t let them down.”

“Can’t let the boys down.” Kate repeats his sentence.

“Or my partner.” Rick says reaching for Kate’s hand. They don’t usually have big touchy feely moments, but in the small moments of being able to hold her hand or hold her close, he’ll take all of it. Kate smiles up at him as she gently squeezes his hand back.

[shemakesmusic-uk]

Alt-pop artist Caroline Romano shares the official music video for her new single, 'PDA of the Mainstream.' 'PDA of the Mainstream' is an anthemic, punk-influenced pop number that gives the middle finger to the internet and all its toxicity. For the video, Caroline worked with director Justin Key to develop a visual concept that captures the familiar feelings of chaos, anger, joy, entertainment and excess that the internet invokes in all of us. “The music video for ‘PDA of the Mainstream’ was my chance to yell directly at the internet,” Caroline says. “I wanted to visually create my own little version of the internet and how I see it, and I think I did that. There’s kittens and confetti and destruction, along with a whole lot of screaming. If that’s not representative of applications and the digital age, I don’t know what is. If I can’t beat it, I figured I might as well smash it with a hammer.”

Following the release of her recent single 'Do This To Me', Manchester-via-Italy singer, songwriter and guitarist Julia Bardo has shared new single and video 'No Feeling', taken from her eagerly awaited debut album Bauhaus, L’Appartamento released on September 10 via Wichita Recordings. 'No Feeling' is a dreamy alt pop song, which builds with a teasing guitar riff to a soaring melodic chorus of earnest and relatable lyrics about the everyday need to do things you don’t want to do and having ‘no feeling’ for them. The video, directed by Georgie Brown, features Julia role-playing different life tasks interspersed with a neon-tinged glam live performance. Julia says; “‘No Feeling’ is about doing things just because you exist, not because you want to actually do them. Because we are trapped in a cycle of rules in society; you must have a job, go out, drink, talk to people, be sociable, believe in something, and do what other people do in order to survive in the world. Sometimes even the most mundane tasks seem too much to handle. For the video, I wanted to portray this idea and set the scene in a white, sterile space, showing how these actions can make us feel stuck in an endless loop of time - going through the same motions every day without feelings or emotions, and how that can build and eventually become out of control."

Nightlife is finally beginning to shine again — especially in New York City where the industry is life blood — and Ariana and the Rose wants to spotlight all the colorful personalities that are bringing everything back, post-lockdown. The synth-pop artist's new single, 'Every Body,' is an electric invitation to the dance floor, recruiting a host of iconic faces for its official music video: Amanda Lepore, Kandy Muse, Cakes Da Killa, CT Hedden, Ryan Burke, Merlot, Rify Royalty and way more. Because "this dance floor is for every body," as she sings, almost like a call to action. "Feel your body on my body." "I wanted to highlight the incredible people and the spirit of the NYC nightlife and LGBTQ+ communities," Ariana says. "Clubs and nightlife have been a home for people who otherwise felt displaced for decades. It is about a chosen family and a sense of community rather than an individual. These are the places that have been a home for me, personally and professionally." In early spring 2020, Ariana had an entire album with tracks she'd planned to release throughout the summer, but COVID forced her to start from scratch and create a body of work that felt more reflective of that bizarre moment in time. The artist then wrote music she dreamt of hearing once the world eventually reopened, capturing "the bigger picture of what the collective feeling was," she says. 'Every Body' is the first official taste of that period, with a relentless hook and powerhouse production that sounds like it could've been conceived while On Top! at The Standard, Meatpacking. Euphoric and aggressive, her single embodies the energy of a year spent bottled up inside, fantasizing about sweating next to strangers and freeing your mind until sunrise. "I want to be the kind of artist who creates space for other people," Ariana says. "Space to connect, either with other people or with themselves, space to feel seen, space to feel uninhibited and to feel safe to do all of those things. 'Every Body' is a mission statement for my project and for the audience to get lost in. No matter who you are, how you identify or where you're from, my musical world and my shows are for everyone to lose or find themselves in." Watch the 'Every Body' music video for some serious "dance music catharsis," filmed at Brooklyn's House of Yes and directed by the Emmy-winning Jason Sherwood. [via Paper]

After introducing her new solo project Flossing with last month’s debut single ‘Switch’, Bodega’s Heather Elle is now sharing her latest Flossing single ‘Trap’. Inspired by the “double binds of both technology and gender”, she notes, “Humanity’s fear of anti-mattering mixed with surveillance capitalism’s psychological warfare is quite the dirty martini to sip on every day.” Accompanied by a video directed by Brooklyn video artist Ali Yildiz of Analog Nation who, during the lockdown, began experimenting with circuit-bent AV gear, video synthesizers, CCTV and VHS cameras, and televisions. [via DIY]

BXB LOVE — the nom de plume of Canadian-born, Los Angeles-based singer, songwriter and artist Natasha Pheko — shares the official music video for her second single, 'IGNORANCE SONG'. 'IGNORANCE SONG' is a bold, gritty alt-rock number that celebrates the shedding of one’s prescribed labels in a world that encourages us to define ourselves before fully understand who we are or all that we can be. Landing somewhere between telling a story and visually expressing a vibe, the 'IGNORANCE SONG' music video represents LOVE’s experience of bursting out of the constructs she had created for herself. Finding herself wandering the streets of LA, wanted by the constructs she had escaped, LOVE throws a big F*CK YOU to the powers that be as she refuses to succumb to the fear that would encourage her to hide, blend in, or run. Instead, we see LOVE displaying an uninhibited expression of play, rebellion, and freedom. “One thing that I’ve loved about creating and sharing this project thus far is that it's allowed me to tap into dreams, ideas, and modes of creative play that I hadn’t really connected with since I was a kid. Making this music video was literally an opportunity for me to live out part of my childhood rockstar fantasies” LOVE says. “Smashing shit, shouting into the camera, riding in the back of a sick car with beautiful people, jumping around in the sunset, guitar solos, clothes that made me feel like a bad ass… I mean…. come on! It was a blast!”

Indigo De Souza shares a joyous video for 'Hold U', the new single and a stand-out moment from her much-anticipated upcoming album Any Shape You Take. Of the song and video, De Souza says: "I wanted to write about a really simple kind of love that isn’t necessarily romantic, but that is just about holding space for other people to fully express themselves and to feel celebrated. Just simply seeing someone in their humanity and loving them. We are constantly evolving and we only truly have space to process our lives openly if we feel safe and are encouraged to love ourselves and celebrate our bodies. I am really blessed with the sense of community that I have in my life, and I wanted to highlight that in this video. Community is the purest kind of magic and can heal so much trauma and pain. We all just want to feel truly held by the people around us!"

A lush, swirling guitar tune that gently encourages listeners to face their unconscious bias, Canadian duo Softcult have shared their latest single ‘Spit It Out’. “The song is about rejecting harmful ideologies that we’ve come to accept as normal, even though they perpetuate our own oppression," the band say. "Most people understand that misogyny, sexism, racism, etc are wrong, but don’t often notice when it occurs in our every day lives, in the media, or how we’ve been conditioned to perceive the world. We can even unknowingly become part of the problem because we’ve internalized these ways of thinking. We wrote the song about resisting societal standards which only serve to benefit those that hold power over others. By simply refusing to accept these ideologies, we can weaken the pillars in our society that allow oppression and injustice. It all starts with questioning them in the first place, and then deciding that we aren’t going to continue to contribute to them.” [via Get In Her Ears]

Lazy days in the park, sun-soaked vacays and bike rides around the city: summer is in full effect and we’re living for it. The only thing missing is that perfect soundtrack and singer Devon Again is putting in a strong bid. Dropping her new single 'SUBURBIA', the singer serves up a warming single that captures the essence of summer. Fusing R&B sensibilities with ethereal vocals, the singer creates a kaleidoscopic soundscape filled with bright piano chords and glittering synths. “I wish there was some spicy back story to this song,” the singer candidly said, “But the chorus was really just a shower thought I had upon some brief reflection of a crush I had on a girl a couple years back who was very much not available. The song loosely follows me and my hypothetical suburban lover through our affair. The main theme throughout the song is being upset that she doesn’t love me the way she loves her husband. I want to be the person she comes home to, but instead I go directly to her home and leave when she’s done with me.” [via Wonderland]

Alternative agitator DeathbyRomy returns with the explosive 'Day I Die,' her first new single of 2021. The Los Angeles-based singer/songwriter combines undeniable hooks, brash production, metal riffs, and double-kick pummel on the track, which comes with a mind-melting music video courtesy of director Pix3lface. An anthem for the terminally lovesick, 'Day I Die' finds DeathbyRomy (born Romy Flores) deep in the grips of obsession. “Take all of me, make me feel again,” she laments. “You got something sick and I know I’ll always want it to the day I die.” That’s when the gnarled guitars come crashing in and the song takes a crushing turn. Jarring, catchy, and raw, 'Day I Die' captures an artist already known for pushing boundaries breaking even more new ground. “This song is about my relationship with life, death, and love. ‘Day I Die’ at its core is a love song. Love isn’t soft and mushy to me, it’s hard as fuck. Love is god. It’s vibrant and addicting. Love is what fuels me to do all I do,” says DeathbyRomy.

Viktoria Modesta makes a comeback after five years away from music, perhaps after some well-deserved time in this planet's outer orbit. The icy-blonde bionic superstar’s new single, 'One With The Ray of Light' debuted July 9, and now is joined by the release of an accompanying art film. OWTROL will launch Modesta’s venture into a new chapter that puts art at the core and compromises nothing. From avatars to techno influences, the artist is looking to create a world of her own. The upcoming record, Moksha, was written alongside Grammy winner Janet Sewell and Madeaux, compared to past works, details a more personal narrative into Modesta’s unique life. Coming at this hybrid project with a more hands-on approach, Viktoria has edited, location scouted and styled the film accompanying her single. [via Flaunt]

Alicia Walter has unveiled another track from their forthcoming album I Am Alicia. The Prince-inspired 'Suit Yourself' comes with a music video directed by Falyn Huang. The artist said this about the new song/visual: “'Suit Yourself' is a motivational anthem empowering myself to follow my dreams and do what I want to do in life, “cause babe, this ain’t that long of a ride.” I'm asking myself to stop worrying about what everybody else thinks or about what’s “right,” and to show up for myself and chase my wildest dreams — because the universe might just deliver! In the video, we see me at home, getting up out of bed and becoming who I want to be. We watch as “pretend” — playing dress-up with different personas and careers, dreaming up what I could be —becomes reality, me stepping into my fullest potential (and, *suitably,* a glam power jumpsuit!).” [via mp3 and npcs]

Comprising Dolorès and Freddy Van Ballast, LETTEN 94 is a Swiss coldwave duo that takes this mental image of Letten, and more widely of Europe in the aftermath of the fall of the Berlin Wall, as a starting point to try to create electronic music which is sometimes aggressive and syncopated, sometimes dark and mysterious. The band has dropped new single, 'Empty Landscapes' alongside a captivating music video, directed by Normotone. Subliminally immersive and dangerously alluring, 'Empty Landscapes' is driven by bleak bouncing and throbbing bassline along with stark, lashing beats relentlessly penetrating the droning dank, dream-like mist stabbed by piercing, heart-wrenching guitar gleams, ominous resonant baritone strains and icy sweeps of evocative winding, glaring synths, to painfully reverberate with poignant intensity around powerful and bewitching female vocals, that ebb and flow betwixt cold, detached exhalations and passionate, aching longings of agony and ecstasy, whilst descending breathlessly into the soft distant echo of male whisperings, to reveal an abandon train stop where fantasies are fulfilled. Cinematic visuals build tension and intrigue around an inter-dimensional romantic interlude. A fragmented storyline dissects a mysterious couples physical connection with split-screen segments drawing isolation from both a barren, panoramic countryside and a dim-lit noir-ish lounge setting. Raindrops blur alternate dream states merging, fantasy and reality behind smoky rooms, hypnotic imagery, unfocused lens frames, and suggestive reflections to form a magnetic perception of disassociation. Shadows ebb and flow under swaying light angles to capture hints of doubt from the intense solo eye contact leading into a strange metaphysical reunion, left wandering in the hidden sands of lost time. [via WL//WH]

London-based artist Alewya has released her new track 'Spirit_X', a mesmerising track indebted to the sounds and communal embrace of the rave. Drawing from the restless rhythms of drum and bass, 'Spirit_X' moves at high speed, with Alewya’s vocals echoing the emotions of a heady night. Alewya says on 'Spirit_X': “I know that the rave can be utilized as ritual and ceremony to transform, uplift and energize a person. I love giving visceral experiences. I love drum and bass for that specific reason. ‘Spirit_X’ encompasses all of the above in my way.” [via FEMMusic]

Sneaker Pimps have shared the video for 'Fighter,' the lead single from Squaring the Circle, their first album in nearly 20 years. The video was directed by the band's own Chris Corner and shot near his studio in Pioneertown, CA and features Janine from IAMX wrapped in a gimp suit and subjected to a downpour of colorful rubber balls. It's a striking video.“We live in a world of mental illness where we are surrounded by profound idiocy and overload," says Corner "'Fighter' is an ode to a struggle to tune out, gain strength and breakthrough. In the video, the character’s fight is ridiculous, there is no other. In the grip of the darkest depression and anxiety the opponent is her own mind. She locks herself in her ring, painting a circle and shrinking her world even further. Freeze, flight, or fight. Self fulfilling prophecies. She's wrapped in a gimp suit because she’s a slave to her own negative narratives. Trapped by vices and triggered by the most innocuous objects. In this world, bouncing balls and balloons become existential threats. But there’s also a faint light of hope. She’s dancing in the face of the full catastrophe of life. She will prevail, she always has. Round 2.” Corner goes on to say, "I shot the video in anamorphic to give it a filmic stretched and otherworldly feel. Soft flares and subtle distortions to add distance, keeping us as the viewer outside of the fighter’s world. My crew spent weeks painting and repainting the set to find just the right queasy color. Repeatedly repacking hundreds of bouncing balls and balloons for shot after shot. Everything you see is on camera. Simple but time consuming. Janine from IAMX was willing to jump into the gimp suit and suffer in extreme desert heat. If you look close you’ll see real sweat dripping down the arms. Everybody worked like dogs for the love of it, this was the ultimate no ego video. Those people are my heroes.” [via Brooklyn Vegan]

Remi Wolf returns with bright, vibrant new single 'Liquor Store'. Laying out her stall with ultra-catchy introductory statement 'Liz' earlier this year, the California native is aiming to release her debut album this Autumn. New single 'Liquor Store' is an explosion of colour, a truly larger-than-life release that actually taps into an extremely personal topic. Dealing with sobriety, 'Liquor Store' is about "shedding a skin", as she puts it. Remi explains: "It's about my journey with sobriety, which has been a major life shift for me over the last year. At the end of 2020, after six months away from the studio, I had a crazy explosive week where all these feelings came pouring out of me — 'Liquor Store' captures a lot of them. It’s my first baby of the bunch and I hope you love it." The video is truly exceptional, a furry world of day-glo tones that has a cartoonish feel. [via Clash]

Cape Town’s HONEYMOAN have just shared the second single from their upcoming Palace EP. ‘False Idols’ combines the best elements from their multi-genre influences and comes with an equally fun music video. Palace arrives August 18. ‘False Idols’ is another infectious offering from HONEYMOAN, beginning with vocals and drums taking centre stage for maximum impact. Later, the song bursts into full colour with electronic pop elements and triumphant guitars. The music video has an 80s sitcom vibe that matches the energy of ‘False Idols’ perfectly. Vocalist Alison spoke about the new single: "'False Idols' is a triumphant story of success, a message to anyone to ever said you couldn’t do it, you were too young, too old, too scared, too whatever but you did it anyway and look at you now" [via Gigwise]

Alt-pop duo Marian Hill is gearing up for something exciting with the release of their newest single 'omg.' 'omg' arrives after June’s 'oOo that’s my type,' their cool girl anthem in collaboration with Yung Baby Tate. The new single is a throwback to the duo’s jazz-injected sound featuring bubbly saxophones with their own trap flair. The chorus bursts into whistles and hi-hats as Gongol sings “Sashay, I’m wearing nothing but my lingerie / It’s all I’ve got til I do laundry,” as a tongue-in-cheek reflection of their raunchy hits. The song arrives alongside a visual which features Gongol writhing around in bed with lingerie on and exploring her home before settling in with an extensive cardboard cutout collection of famous pop stars, including one of Lloyd himself. The video hints at a forthcoming album, although details have not been released yet. ”’omg’ is the first song we’ve ever written that makes us laugh,” share the duo in a statement. “We discovered such a fun zany stir-crazy energy with it, and had so much fun taking the usual sexy Marian Hill vibe to its comedic extreme. As soon as we wrote the song we saw the whole video – the lyrics are basically a script for it.” [via Paste Magazine]

Alessia Cara acts out a silly noir melodrama in the new music video for her recent single, 'Shapeshifter.' The video was directed by Tusk, and in it, Cara plays all the main roles: The jilted wife with the bottomless martini glass, the cheating husband, the clumsy private eye, the gardener and the maid. The clip mainly follows the private eye as he tries to figure out who the husband’s secret lover is, and the mystery ends with a very unexpected and surreal twist, when the investigator catches the husband smooching a figure with a sheep’s head. After stumbling into the pool, however, the PI appears to wake up, as if from a dream, in an ocean far away. [via Rolling Stone]

Anne-Marie thinks Little Mix made 'Kiss My (Uh-Oh)' sound "10 times better" than it did as a solo track. The 30-year-old star has teamed up with the 'Shout Out To My Ex' hitmakers on her latest song, and she was delighted to finally get round to collaborating. She told the Daily Star newspaper's Wired column: "I feel like so many people have been wanting that collaboration. We have actually been talking about it for so long, we sent each other a few songs every now and again, but they never felt quite right. Then I was doing the tracklisting for my album, 'Kiss My (Uh-Oh)' was originally a solo song but I thought they would sound so good on this so I sent it to Leigh-Anne and she said, 'We love it, we are going to vocal it', and made it sounds 10 times better. So now it's a single thanks to them." Anne-Marie also heaped praise on the trio for their work on the music video, not least because Leigh-Anne and Perrie are both pregnant. She added: "Everyone shines and their ad-libs at the end are insane, they kill it. They are very powerful people. In the video they were pregnant, it was quite inspiring to see. I would just be at home eating pizza, so good for them going through it." [via Music News]

Amsterdam-based indie-pop singer-songwriter Sophie van Hasselt has released her single 'EaT mY bRaiN'. This is the first single of her upcoming debut-EP called Eat My Brain which will be released in February next year. This EP is an introduction to different themes that are typical for a girl in her twenties. From layered vocals sounding like inner conversations to bouncing baselines, pulsating pads and quirky guitars playing in the background. Sophie is an interdisciplinary artist who not only creates music, but also works in fashion photography and videography. The combination of these three expertises make her a unique creative mind. Sophie uses her DIY ethic and the 'reality shifting' aspect to remind us that life is as how you imagine it. Her music sounds like the 'Swinging Sixties' and a combination of artists such as Brigitte Bardot, Lily Allen and Beach Boy's 'Smiley Smile'. In 'EaT mY bRaiN' Sophie van Hasselt, a modern flower-child, opens the doors to her highly imaginative world - filled with songs to play, where she lives in day-dreams and quite figuratively 'eats her own brain'. [via Front View]

[therenlover]

Gimme Swayze (Part 4.5 of Till Forever Falls Apart, A Peter Maximoff/Reader Series)

Synopsis: Now that the issue of Y/N leaving is out of the way, and Peter has finally kissed her, he falls into the motions of learning how to love someone for the first time. It’s easier than he thought it would be.

Tags: Fluff, Dancing, Gratuitous Dirty Dancing References, Love Confessions, Insecure!Reader, Minor Hurt/Comfort

Rating: T

Warnings: Mild Language

Word Count: 2600~

This has been cross posted as the first chapter of the fic Cry To Me on my Ao3!

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“Dance with me, Peter?”

Y/N stood in the middle of the floor holding her hand out to him, hair mussed and wild with cheeks still streaked from tears shed earlier in the night. There, in the lamplight, she looked ethereal. Peter could imagine her as she was then in some grand Viennese ballroom. Every man, woman, and child would want to be seen on her arm, fully disregarding her casual clothes and the unhinged fire in her eyes, but she was choosing him. Something in his heart told him she always would.

With a smile and a groan, he pushed up off the creaky old plush couch and stretched his arms. “Are you gonna put on some music or are we gonna have to make our own?”

Peter didn’t miss the way Y/N’s breath hitched as she rushed over to the record player near the window. Her fingers skimmed over the knee-high stack of records at the base of the machine, searching through for something specific. After a moment she let out a small victorious noise. She pulled out the item she was looking for, a plastic-wrapped vinyl sheath, before holding it out towards Peter with a grin. Outside, the rain had slowed to a gentle pitter-patter on the concrete.

The paper cover was plain white, but it had a large title scrawled across the front in black magic marker: Y/N’s Ultimate Romance Mixtape.

“You put a mixtape… on a record? How much did this thing cost you?” Peter asked, walking to Y/N’s side to give the vinyl a closer look.

“Not just any mixtape,” she groaned, motioning for him to flip it over, “Our mixtape!” There on the back of the record, just as she promised, was a tracklist. Upon first viewing, by any average person, it would look pretty normal. To Peter, though, it was like looking down at a list of the top hits of his life. Time In A Bottle, Strange Magic, Born to Run, Sweet Dreams ...

“How did you-”

“I just started finding the songs I saw you listening to more than once, one day,” Y/N replied. She was staring at the floor again, wringing her hands. Was she… embarrassed? “I know it’s kinda weird and creepy… okay, it’s really weird and creepy, but I didn’t have anything else to do. It was just me in the Paris apartment back then and I still technically wasn’t a real person in the eyes of the government so I couldn’t work. What I’m trying to say is it was a nice way to pass the time, waiting for the newest song on the list to release, sitting patiently in the record shops hoping to hear a snippet of a melody I heard you humming along to in a vision...”

As she spoke, Y/N’s eyes seemed to glaze over. By the time her stream of consciousness had turned into less of a pour and more of a drip she looked halfway caught between the world and a dream. Peter could only imagine that when you’d lived as long as she had sometimes the past could seem like a dream. He’d been around for about 31 years, 67 if you included the years he lost between dimensions, and even he found himself looking back on parts of his childhood as if they were someone else’s. What would it be like in 10 more years? 20? 30? 100 didn’t even seem plausible.

Peter was only snapped from his internal monologue when Y/N snatched the record out of his hands and held it to her chest protectively. Her dreamy look was gone, replaced with one much more defensive.

“What?”

“If you’re just gonna gawk at it, I’m not gonna show you,” she said, carefully setting the record down on top of the closed player before turning her attention back to Peter, “I know it’s a little odd-”

“It’s cute!” Peter was quick to respond. He held up his hands, giving a small gesture of goodwill, before moving in to wrap her in his arms. She accepted, however stiffly. “Really, babe, it’s cute! I promise,”

With what seemed like a great amount of effort, Y/N relaxed into his touch. “Sorry, sorry, I’m just a little nervous… I’ve never done this before,”

“Oh, come on,” Peter’s mouth was almost against her skin now. His hot breath tickled the sensitive curve of her ear as he rocked their bodies back and forth on the balls of his feet, half calming and half comedic. “You don’t have to be nervous, Y/N. It’s just me,”

“That’s the problem!” Y/N was floundering in earnest now, her little heart pounding hard enough that Peter could feel it against his own chest. “With other guys it was easy! I knew they weren’t the end goal, and I knew… well, I thought they’d die long before you ever came into the picture, but now you’re here, and you’re you, and I’m so fucking terrified of messing everything up,”

Peter moved his hands to loosely grip her arms, rubbing calming circles into her flesh. “Babe, newsflash, I really like you. Like, stupidly like you. Head-over-heels type shit,” he paused to laugh, “and hey, I’m not the one who sees the future or anything, but I don’t see this going bad anytime soon. So take a deep breath, put on our mixtape, and just… let go,”

Y/N let her eyes find Peter’s, peering up through heavy lashes. “What if I fall?”

He kissed her softly on the forehead before he answered, “Baby, I have super speed. You can’t fall faster than I can catch you,”

The softest of smiles graced Y/N’s face before she pulled away, turning back to the record player and grabbing the record off the top as she opened it. She paused for a second, pensive, and Peter thought he might have to bolster her again before she turned back to him.

“Side A or Side B?”

Peter shrugged. “Whatever side you like the most,”

“Side B it is…” she smirked as she set the record on the table and got it spinning, dropping the needle gently onto the edge of the vinyl with a practiced hand, “That’s my side,” Under the sounds of the gentle rain and the city, the opening notes to a song halfway familiar began to ring out through the old bones of the apartment. The ancient wood seemed to creak its own melody under Y/N’s feet while she started to sway. Peter tried to follow along as best he could.

“I hope you know I can’t dance,” He mumbled, swinging his hips to and fro as Y/N giggled at him.

“Oh, I know,”

“Then why did you ask me to?”

“Just because you’re bad at dancing doesn’t mean I don’t wanna dance with you,”

“That’s so cheeeeesy, Y/N!”

She threw her head back as she shimmed into Peter’s arms across the floor. “And you love it,”

When she was finally in his arms again, they swayed loosely to the tune. There was no real rhythm to it, all clumsy feet and breathless laughter as they bumped their way through Y/N’s greatest hits, but it came from the heart. There were no doomsday clocks ticking in the background, no expectations of what to was to come. It was just the music around them and the rain in the street and the jerky unnatural movements of Peter Maximoff doing his best to internalize the beat as The Mamas and the Papas slowly drifted into Solomon Burke. Y/N hummed thoughtfully, pulling away from Peter’s arms as it began, bringing her arms up above her head as she shook her hips. Peter just groaned.

“You actually put the song from Dirty Dancing on the mixtape?”

Y/N didn’t respond, instead bopping her head along with the beat.

“I can’t believe it. You’re not even gonna answer me,”

She gave a wink and continued on.

“Really? The silent treatment?”

“I’m not saying another word until you embrace the Swayze, Peter,”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep inhale, and then stared daggers into Y/N’s eyes as he shrugged his shoulders. “You want Swayze, baby? You really want Swayze?”

“Oh, I wanna see some Swayze, Peter,”

“How’s this for Swayze?”

With a burst of superhuman speed, Peter raced across the floor, snatched Y/N up by her midriff, and lifted her above his head, delighting in her giggles and shrieks while he spun her. He may not have been the best dancer or the best mover, but Peter was good at a few things; things like utilizing his surprising strength and speed.

He kept Y/N aloft for a moment before gently returning her to the floor. There she stood, slightly dazed, as she got her bearings back, gripping the sleeve of Peter’s t-shirt for balance. To put it simply she was a giggling mess.

Peter loved watching her like this, carefree and loose, unbound from the tethers of trauma and time for a few brief moments. It made his heart soar higher to know that he made her like this. He was the one who threatened to toss her in with the seals at Central Park, which made her laugh so hard she almost yakked up her hotdog. It was him who sat with her on the couch throwing popcorn at the fuzzy TV screen whenever she suddenly froze up at the sound of a scream, distracting her enough that she could enjoy the movie till the end. His hands were the ones she grabbed whenever she saw a cute dog on the street and wanted to get close fast enough to pet it. He was a part of her joy, a minuscule blip on her radar making waves in her life for the better. Peter didn’t know if there was anything else he wanted to be in life that could mean more than that.

When Y/N finally got her giggles under control, she looked up at him with wet eyes and whispered. “That was pretty Swayze, babe,”

The second it left her lips she was in stitches again, her knees buckling as she collapsed to the floor, whole body wracked with her laughter. Peter joined her this time, settling himself down by her side and allowing the hysteria to wash over him like a pleasant wave. Once all was said and done, he and Y/N laid shoulder to shoulder on the antique sitting-room rug, staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes and soft smiles. The record, all spun out, sat forgotten on the turntable.

“I know I’ve told you this already,” Y/N said, eyes glued to the rotating fan above her, “but I love you, Peter. I love you and I love who I am when I’m with you. You don’t have to say it back, I mean, I know this has all been ridiculously fast, but… I dunno. Even without the whole fated to cross paths thing, I think I’d love you now anyways, you know?” She bit her bottom lip, groaning, “Sorry, sorry, I know things are moving way too quick-”

Peter shushed her gently, rolling onto his side to look her in the eye. “Babe, you’re talking to the fastest man alive. Quick is literally in my name. Don’t worry about it,”

“Yeah. I guess it is, huh?”

“And for the record,” he took a deep breath, steeling himself, “I love you too, Y/N. I have for a while now. It has to have been since… well all the way back when Dr. Strange had me tied up at your work. I was so sure that I had screwed everything up with you, that you were gonna let him drag me to superhero prison and wash your hands of me, but you didn’t. You came in there guns blazing, even when you knew I had fucked up big time and accidentally tried to steal some real spooky shit, and from that second on I never once felt like you would ever be willing to get rid of me just because I’m annoying,”

She nudged him with her shoulder. Not hard, just enough to jostle him. “You’re not annoying,”

“Have you met me? Annoying is literally my middle name,”

“No,” Y/N’s voice got soft, “No, your middle name is Django. Your favorite color is blue, but specifically bright teal-ish blue like the blue moon ice cream your mom used to buy you on vacation back when you were a little kid. You can’t dance but you have surprisingly good rhythm, and even if you’re not proud of your voice you should be because if you weren’t the world’s fastest man you could be touring as a singer with your guitar. You always sleep on the right side of the bed, your favorite season is the weird limbo between summer and fall, you can’t stand the James Bond movies, and if anybody asked you’d say your favorite food is Twinkies but it’s not. Your favorite food is pierogies, specifically the cheese and potato kind from Nana Dudek’s in Polish town because they remind you of your Nana the few times you remember going to see her. All of that is true, and so is the fact that you love me,”

She went quiet, eyes watching the blades of the ceiling fan in their lazy rotations. Slowly, she reached out her hand, interlocking her pinkie with Peter’s own without even having to look down and find it.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that,” Peter whispered.

Y/N let a huff of air out of her nose, a silent laugh at a joke only she knew.

“You’re not supposed to say anything. I just wanted you to know,”

“Know what?”

“Know that even if you can never build up the courage to tell me you love me again, I’ll be just fine, because I know, and you know, and that’s all that matters,”

Something in Peter’s heart, however small, shattered at just how vulnerable Y/N sounded.

Both of them were jaded in their own ways. They had seen bloodshed and torment and the roots of human suffering. It wasn’t always as simple as saying ‘I love you’. Sometimes the world left you a broken pulp with little faith and saying three little magic words just wasn’t possible. There’s no place for love in the heart of a person at war, nor is there any guarantee that they’ll ever be able to express that forbidden weakness again. It’s a commodity, like hope, that came in rare supply to people like Peter and Y/N. That being said, in the safety and warmth of the sitting room with the cozy couch and the antique rug and the ceiling fan and the record player, neither of them were at war, and Peter would be a damn fool if he didn’t take advantage of that.

He rolled onto his side once again, waiting there in silence until Y/N rolled onto her side to greet him, and then, with all of the feelings he had hidden in his heart since the moment he ran at top speed for the first time he kissed her.

Without hesitation, she kissed him back.

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a/n: Sorry this took so long to get out! It’s short, but I wanted it to be long enough to be it’s own mini chapter, so our minor friends can enjoy the sweetness without having to lose any of the story in the spicy bit. That being said, the spicy bit comes next lol. My shift bar is being fussy, and I need to sleep, so I’m signing off for the night, but thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, let me know!

Please do not post my work to any other sites, thank you ! <3

[ahgaseforeternity]

Dangerous Woman— Lucas Wong edition

Lucas Wong || Part 5

In honor of Lucas’s birthday, I thought I would finally finish this fic! Enjoy!

A MORNING LIGHT SHIMMERED JUST AT the edge of your eyelids that were closed shut. It felt warm and refreshing. Strange, you hated mornings. The pillow you had your arms wrapped around was so soft and slicky, unlike the pillow you had at home. 

The realization had you opening your eyes a tad too fast. You had to blink away the shimmering light from your eyes, and once you did you could hardly believe what was before you. It left you lifting your lips in a lazy smile. 

Last night hadn’t been a dream after all. Lucas was lying next to you in the cozy bed, with his fingers gently touching yours where it lied on the pillow. He looked so peaceful, you didn’t want to disturb him, yet your fingers itched to run through his shining black hair that was muffled from the events of last night. 

Last night. 

You wanted to squeal into the pillow so badly. You had never experienced something so magical before in your life. What Lucas had made you feel last night, in this very bed, you had only ever read about in books. You never thought they might be real, but Lucas had proved they were in many, many different ways. 

Thinking about it made you blush anew. 

“Now, those blooming cheeks are a great thing to wake up to.” 

You yelped softly, turning your face into the pillow before Lucas could really get a good look at your embarrassed face. You could feel his laugh ruffle the bed, and it made your stomach warm in the best way. 

His laugh was possibly the best noise you have ever heard. 

“Oh, come on Y/N. You weren’t hiding from me last night when I had made those cheeks even redder.” 

You huffed. “Don’t remind me.” Yet some part of you didn’t want him to stop talking about what had happened. You wondered if last night was as great for him as if was for you. It sure seemed like it had been with all the moaning he had done. Thinking about it made your toes curl at the edge of the bed. 

Lucas just laughed again, running his fingers lightly across your arm that wasn’t beneath the blanket. You couldn’t help it then, you had to turn at met his eyes, which were already staring into yours. Oh, you were melting, you were sure of it. 

“Good morning, Y/N” Lucas leaned in and kissed your naked shoulder softly. You could hardly breathe, and Lucas knew. His eyes were shimmering with delighted amusement. 

“Morning,” was all you could respond with. You realized then that you were still entirely naked, and so was he. You couldn’t decided if it completely thrilled or terrified you. There was something about the dark. It left things shroud where as in the daylight there was nothing to hide. You clutched the blanket closer to your bare chest. 

Lucas scanned your face, seeing your distress. He simply leaned in to give you another kiss, but this time on your temple. It was so tender and sweet that you wanted to dissolve into the comfy bed and never leave, but all too soon, Lucas untangled himself from the sheet. 

Which meant he was standing before you in all his naked, delicious glory. You didn’t know why you were acting so shy, it wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen or touched last night. Still, you found yourself yelping again, and turning away, but not before you got an eyeful of his broad shoulders and glorious backside. 

“Lucas!” 

“What, Y/N, you don’t like what you see?” 

Of course you liked what you saw. You liked it far too much. 

You heard his feet shuffling across the room, and you decided to slowly open your eyes to see that Lucas was nowhere to be seen. That’s when you heard the shower being turned on. Oh gosh. Lucas was in the shower, naked. 

Of course he was naked, you thought. Why wouldn’t he be naked in the shower? 

You could feel your face flaming up. You tried to fan yourself with the blankets, but they weren’t helping. If anything--taking a shower would help lessen how hot you felt. But, Lucas was in there. You couldn’t just barge in and slide right up in the steaming shower. The thought alone left you feeling all sorts of butterflies. 

You stayed where you were, trying not to think of Lucas dripping with warm water from head to toe. You soon heard the water being shut off, and dove right back into the blankets when Lucas came out in nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips. Did this man want to kill you? At the rate your heart was beating, you were sure of it. 

You heard him open a drawer in the room, and timidly pulled the blankets down again to see Lucas pulling on a pair of nice fitting jeans, and a grey pullover. His hair was still wet as he ran his fingers through it. You couldn’t help but wish those were your fingers instead. Gosh, he looked just as good in clothes as he did naked, and it was entirely unfair. 

Lucas turned to you then, smiling from ear to ear. 

“Do you want to wear some of my clothes?” 

You blinked a few times at his question, barely listening as your eyes were distracted by his beautiful smile. 

“I have a hoodie you could borrow and some sweats,” you watched Lucas pull some clothes from the same open drawer and bring them over to where you still lied in the nice, warm, safe, bed. He sat just next to where you legs were beneath the sheets. One of your knees was exposed, and Lucas sat the clothes down, gently lifting one of his fingers to trace over your skin. 

It was incredible intimate and left you feeling weak. 

You hurried to sit up and grabbed for the clothes. The hoodie looked perfect, oversized and comfy. It said something in Chinese and you went to ask Lucas what it meant. 

His eyes sparkled. 

“Danger.” 

The name of his club. You wondered though, if Lucas was thinking of something else by the way he was looking at you. You hurried to slip on the hoodie before he could see any more of your exposing skin. 

You needed to find your underwear though, before you set off for the bathroom. You scanned the floor, finding it close to the bedroom door. Lucas was already up and retrieving it though. 

“No!” 

He froze at your sudden outburst. Your ran from the bed, trying to keep your ass covered with the oversized hoodie as best you could, and then bent down for the lacey thong yourself. Even if Lucas had touched your underwear last night, didn’t mean you wanted him touching it in broad daylight. 

You hurried to the bathroom, feeling Lucas’s heady stare on your legs until you closed the door. You pressed yourself against it, allowing yourself to breathe. In and out, in and out. 

You had to keep reminding yourself that even when you turned on the hot water and stepped into the luxurious shower. Standing in Lucas’s, it made thinking about him naked beneath the shower head so much harder, but you tried, failing miserably though. 

You tried to not get your hair wet and just hurried to wash off your body. It took you less than five minutes and you were already out. Luckily, there was a clean towel set on the counter just for you to use. You smiled thinking Lucas must’ve sat it there for you, while you dried yourself off. 

It was amazing to you how thoughtful Lucas truly was. It made you wonder why you had been acting so strange all morning. Lucas had wanted you last night. Needed you, just as much as you needed him. He had told you himself. He wasn’t like your ex. He wasn’t going to hurt you. At least, you hoped. 

You brushed your fingers through your hair the best you could, thankful that you still had your hair tie from last night around your wrist. You tied your hair into a pony, and pulled on Lucas’s clothes, having to roll up the sweats a few times to get them to reach your ankles. 

Gosh, Lucas was so irresistibly tall. It was absolutely amazing. 

You didn’t have a wick of make up on, but you hardly cared. Lucas had already seen your bare face when you showed up at the club in just your jeans and t-shirt. 

As you opened the bathroom door, you found Lucas standing before the large windows that showed the snowy city below. You had complete forgot that it had snowed last night. The city looked beautiful, draped in freshly fallen snow. As you drew closer, Lucas looked over at your, smiling softly. It all about melted your core. Did he not know what he did to you? You were sure it showed on your cheeks now, you felt so warm. 

“Are you ready to go?” He asked, offering his hand. 

“Go where?” You asked, totally taken of guard by his question. 

He kept smiling while he handed you a pair of cozy socks and Burk sandals. You were about to protest and say you could just where your own shoes, but then remembered you had worn heels. You smiled softly, “thanks.” 

After you pulled them on, Lucas took your hand in his, pulling you through his penthouse until you were out the door. Walking through the quiet club was so strange. You couldn’t decide if you liked the place filled with people more, or empty. Right now, you were grateful that it was just you and Lucas. Well, and his bouncer, Stephan. 

“Boss, the cars ready for you out front if you like.” The bouncer motioned out the club’s doors. 

“Thank you Stephan, but we won’t be needing it today.” 

You felt your brows grow close together. Where were you going that you wouldn’t need to drive? Lucas just smiled at the bouncer, pulling you after him as he walked through the front doors. The snow had let up, and the sidewalks had been shuffled enough that you prayed you wouldn’t slip and fall straight on your ass. 

Lucas still gripped your hand tightly. His hand was so overpowering it left you feeling incredibly warm. You nuzzled closer to him. It earned you another stunning smile. “So, can I ask where you are taking me?” 

Lucas turned to look ahead of you. “It’s a small Café just around the corner. It’s been there for awhile, and the breakfast is by far the best I’ve had. I thought it would be nice to go,” he nuzzled into you this time, “with you.” 

You had to tighten your lips to keep some squealing. This man was just too perfect. 

The sound of the city seemed to fall away as Lucas spoke to you about everything. He told you about his home life, about his other job being in kpop groups NCT and WayV. 

“Wait, wait,” you had to stop him at that. “You sing?” 

Lucas just smiled. 

“Of course you do. Is there anything you don’t do?” 

“Loads of stuff.” 

“Uh huh, sure.” 

You both laughed. 

As you walked around a street corner, Lucas stopped you bluntly, and you had to grip onto his arm to keep from slipping in the snow. He helped you steady yourself. “Sorry, Y/N. I should’ve told you we are here.” 

You turned to look at the quaint Cafe that sat smashed between two newer buildings. It did look rather old, but something about it spoke to you. The aesthetic of it was rather pleasing. Lucas opened the door, ushering you inside. The smell of fresh coffee brewing and brown sugar filled your senses. It left your mouth watering. 

“Mr. Wong! I see your back again.” 

A short man came to stand before both of you, smiling brightly. 

“Hello, Mr. Ahn. Today doesn’t look too busy. Is my usual open?” 

“Yes, of course! Right this way.” 

The man now known as Mr. Ahn, who you learned was the owner, showed you to a table tucked away in the far back of the cafe. It was next to another window that looked out to a courtyard that was filled with a small gazebo. With the fresh snow surrounding it, it looked like some winter wonderland. 

“This is your usual table huh? How often do you come here?” You asked Lucas after Mr. Ahn left to grab you your menus. 

“Whenever my schedule allows me. You’ll see why. Mr. Ahn and his wife, Mrs. Ahn make some of the best French toast you’ll ever have. It’s drizzled with this coconut syrup that is just--,” 

“Mouth watering?” 

Lucas stopped talking and looked straight at you. You watched his eyes travel from yours down to your lips and back again. Your heart was pounding wildly. 

“Very.” 

You learned quickly that Lucas was right. The French toast was truly amazing, and unlike any you had ever tasted. 

“I told you.” 

You smiled at his remark, taking one last bite. 

You had tried to prolong the meal by eating slow. You didn’t want the day to end. You dreaded having to leave Lucas’s side. You weren’t sure what was going to happen now. Just because you slept together--it didn’t mean you were dating. Even if you couldn’t imagine dating anyone else after what had transpired between you and Lucas. 

The thought alone left you feeling terrible. 

Lucas could see the shift in your mood, and didn’t say a word as he paid for the meal, and followed you out the door, not before thanking Mr. Ahn and his wife for the delicious meal. 

As you stepped out the door, a snowflake fell onto your eyelash. You blinked it away, lifting your eyes to the sky to see snow started to fall again. It was beautiful against the tree lined streets that were covered in the white powder. Cars drove by but you could hardly hear them as Lucas took your hand in his, turning you to face him. 

“Y/N.” 

The sound of your name coming off his tongue left you wanting to cry. It was the way he said it, as if he was saying goodbye almost. You didn’t want to hear what else he had to say, and hurried to turn away from him, but Lucas wouldn’t let you. 

“Y/N, wait.” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and kept your eyes on your snow covered socks and sweats. Well, they were Lucas’s really. You had forgotten you were still wearing his clothes. That’s probably what he wanted, was his clothes back. 

“I’ll clean them for you, and return them. I promise,” you said tugging on the hoodie. 

“You better.” 

You stilled at his words. 

“I expect to see you again.” 

You lifted your eyes to his then, seeing them shimmering with something you had completely forgotten about. Love. He lifted one of his fingers and tugged a stray hair behind you ear, leaving his thumb there to trace your lower cheek. His touch was so warm and inviting, that you found yourself stepping closer. 

“You do?” 

“Of course. Besides, it’s my birthday today.” 

You stilled. “It’s your birthday? Why didn’t you say something?!” You swatted his arm, not hard enough to hurt but enough to get him to laugh. 

“Because I don’t have any expectations for my birthday, and I knew once I told you, you would think I did.” 

You were about to protest, but stopped when you realized that Lucas was right. You would’ve totally said something like that, only because when came to someone’s birthday, they didn’t usually spend it with a complete stranger they had just slept with. 

“If we hadn’t come here today, I would’ve spent my birthday the way I always do. Alone.” The way he said it made your heart hurt. No one deserved to be alone on their birthday, not even those who did deserve it. You gripped his hand tighter. 

“Well, I’m thankful you brought me here and allowed me to spend your birthday with you.” You exclaimed. Lucas just stared at you, as if he was searching for something. It left you blushing. 

“You know what I really want for my birthday?” Lucas asked, leaning in closer. 

Snowflakes gently fell onto his hair and eyelashes, making him look unreal. You could hardly breathe as your eyes fell to his mouth if only for a second. 

“For you to spend it with me, every year.” 

You widened your eyes, meeting his. You thought he was joking, but from the seriousness in his eyes, you knew he was being completely honest. He cupped your face then, bringing your face even closer to his. 

“Stay with me, Y/N. Stay and spend time with me. Let me get to know you, to see you at work amongst all those books. Let me make love to you slowly, not like last night where everything had been so rushed. Just—stay and be with me.” 

You couldn’t believe the words that had stumbled out of his mouth, but your heart was pounding uncontrollably, so you knew Lucas had said them, and that they were true. Lucas wanted to be with you, just as much as you wanted to be with him. 

And it left you breathless. 

All you could think to do was bring his lips to you. It was soft and tender, unlike the heated kisses you had only shared thus far, and it left you feeling light and warm against the snowy scenery. 

Lucas wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer until your feet lifted off the ground and pressed you against his chest. You had your own arms wrapped around his shoulders, loving the feel of his embrace all around you. 

You broke away from his lips, pressing your forehead to his. He slowly brought you back down to the ground, but didn’t release his arms from around you. He kept his forehead pressed to yours, as you touched his beautiful face with your chilled fingers. Lucas didn’t seem to mind though, as he just stared at you. 

“Happy Birthday, Lucas.” You smirked. It was the only answer he needed, as he leaned in to kiss you again. You both ignored the people walking by, the cars rushing in the white flecks, and focused on each other. 

You were so grateful for that night weeks ago. If you hadn’t entered the club that night, you wouldn’t be holding the precious miracle you were now. Were grateful that you had taken a chance, and allowed Lucas to sweep you off your feet. 

You weren’t planning on ever letting go. 

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[white-collar-lawmen-and-conmen]

Bite (Part Three)

Summary: Peter’s team is invited onto a big case in which their involvement will have serious consequences. (Part 3/3)

Word Count: 5,077

Warning: Some violence and not-so-subtle PTSD

Additional Note: Some prison slang is used in this chapter and explained here for clarity. Shiv = stab, smokes = cigarettes, “a dime” = ten years.

           “I want you to know that I didn’t intend for this to happen,” he said finally, lifting his head. His usually kissable lips were frowning. “And I tried resisting.”

           That made you frown. What was there to resist? Coercion? “Resisting what?” You asked him worriedly.

           That worry only increased tenfold when he answered, “Blood.”

~~~ Bite ~~~

           Of the hundreds, even thousands of things that you knew Neal could have said, what he actually did say hadn’t even made the list – but it sure was eerie, and if his goal was actually to pull your leg, set you off-kilter, then he had succeeded without a doubt.

           “Blood?” You echoed, recoiling and leaning away from him in your chair. His eyes darted briefly to your shoulders as they moved back before he looked to your face again, his mouth tightening unhappily. “What the hell, Neal, I’m being serious!”

           “So am I,” he responded, looking momentarily hurt. “I told you, I didn’t want this.”

           You still didn’t understand. “This – this being what?”

           Neal licked his dry lips and looked over your shoulder, his eyes fixated on a spot on the wall. “This goes back to the Brady case,” he admitted. You leaned back towards him, both to hear his quiet speech and because you had realized you’d moved away. No matter how unsettled you were, you knew your friend would never hurt you and there was no need to put distance in the way. “The last operation.”

           “The one that failed.” You remembered it well. The concern and fear when your team stopped responding, the anger towards Brady, and the sympathy and worry for Neal and Peter, who had both been through an awful experience. Not to mention the paranoia and distrust that had rocked the office in the immediate aftermath. “Someone had tipped him off.”

           “No,” Neal corrected you quickly, and you looked to his eyes sharply. How could he know what had happened? Not even OPR had managed to figure out why the operation took a nosedive. “There wasn’t a mole. Brady had already made us himself from the second Peter went to scare him.”

           How? Peter had worked many high-profile cases, but was careful to stay out of the spotlight, and the bureau had liaisons who did their best to make sure agents didn’t get their pictures out in the media. Did they miss one? Was that how Brady recognized Peter? But then, how had he tied Neal to Peter, and why risk going to prison when he could have simply cut ties with Nick Halden and fled the country?

           “If he knew it was a setup, then why did he call you back to his office?” You questioned.

           Neal sighed softly. “Spitefulness. Pettiness. Malice.” You took in a breath as you understood. It wouldn’t have been enough for Brady to just not fall into the trap. He had to make the feds regret trying to trick him. Neal looked down at his hands and stroked the thumb of one hand firmly against the palm of the other while he kept calm and recounted what had happened. “Peter could have been a cop doing his job. Me, I was clearly undercover, manipulating him.”

           You cut in with another question. “What I don’t get is how he knew you weren’t Nick.” You were very careful in the bureau to keep the identities of Neal Caffrey and Nick Halden separate. “How did he make the connection?”

           Neal hesitated and he looked down again, his beautiful blue eyes training on the repetitive movement of his hands. You decided to give him a count, and if he didn’t answer in ten seconds, you were going to say his name in a stern tone. You only got to eight before he looked up, mouth open to talk. He stopped himself short, swallowed, and turned his head to look towards the glass doors before he started again.

           “He knew I wasn’t who I said because he knew Peter and I had been spending time together.” Neal was shifty in a way you hadn’t seen before. There was his usual fashion of shiftiness, quick and deflective, when he was trying to get away with a lie of omission, particularly when he had come to a case lead through not-so-scrupulous ways. Then there was this – shifty out of discomfort, unease, like he felt squirmy just for thinking about it. “When Peter went to his office, Brady could smell me.”

           Neal stopped, giving you time to think, to catch up, and to understand. You looked at him and he was still facing away from you, so you just saw the hardness in his jaw as he gritted his teeth.

           “Neal, we aren’t dogs, people can’t smell other people,” you exasperatedly started to say, but slowed down. This wasn’t just Neal trying to spin a story. It was his freedom on the table, and if he wanted to lie then he could be much more convincing. It was true that people couldn’t smell other people – but maybe Brady wasn’t a person, wasn’t a human.

           Blood.

           “No,” you whispered, feeling petrified. Had Brady-?

           “People can’t,” Neal agreed softly, looking to his hands again. You could see his knuckles whitening as he pressed into his palm harder, relieving his stress and anxiety with pressure. “Vampires can.”

~~~ Bite ~~~

           Something had been off from the start, but Neal didn’t want to be hasty and pull the plug on a good operation. Though he was guilty of pressing Ruiz’s buttons, Neal understood the agent’s desperation to catch this shady businessman and wanted to do what he could to hold Brady accountable for murder. Brady didn’t have any extra muscle with him, nor did he change the meeting place to somewhere without people in shouting distance, so Neal thought that even if he was twitchy, he wasn’t completely sold on his paranoia. As long as he was careful, he would get out unscathed.

           It didn’t take long for Brady to bring up Peter, which surprised Neal slightly. Maybe the man was jumpier than he had thought. Neal was being cautious and calculating, but on the outside he made sure to be flippant and unruffled, like a pestering FBI agent was neither new nor troubling. Brady didn’t take the offered bait in Neal’s response, though, and instead asked a very pointed question.

           “And what experience would you happen to have with the feds, Nick?” Brady had asked testily, staring down at Neal from where he was sitting on the edge of his own desk. The man’s hazel eyes looked dark and thin around the wide pupils, and Neal decided right then that it was too close of a call. There was too much excitement in his system for it to be a hypothetical question, and a person couldn’t dilate their eyes on will.

           He almost missed the businessman’s hand moving into a desk drawer while formulating a response. “I’ve met a few,” Neal replied evenly, scowling, in character, not appreciating the insinuation that he cooperated with feds. “But none were a very hard sell.” He did see the motion as Brady took his hand out of the desk drawer, holding onto nothing. He was curious what it had been for, but mostly he was grateful that Brady hadn’t taken out a gun.

           “Is that so?” Brady asked, easing himself off the desk. He put his back to Neal, and while he wasn’t looking, Neal let out a slow breath, sure to keep it silent so that his relief wasn’t heard. The company founder circled his furniture and Neal willed him to stay on that side of it and keep the three-foot piece between them.

           “It is,” Neal said, cocking his head to portray Nick’s (earned) arrogance. He just had to wait another thirty seconds, maximum. The phrase ‘hard sell’ was the safe word. There would be at least one, but probably two or three, agents storming in before Brady had a chance to even go for the gun safe Neal knew was behind that framed picture on the wall.

           “Mm. Funny.” Brady commented coolly, staring at Neal like he thought the conman would be easily intimidated. It was almost insulting, really – if a good stare were all it took, Neal would still be a starving street scammer. “Because, see, I know from a reliable source that you’re all buddy-buddy with Agent Burke.”

           It was truly a test of self-control not to give away the mounting anxiety. Neal played it off while counting down in his head. “Sounds to me like you need to get better sources,” he snarked. Twenty seconds.

           “Based on what you’re saying, I can’t trust anyone these days.” Brady just sounded angrier now. Neal wondered if maybe he shouldn’t have just made a move to excuse himself and taken his chances, but it was too late now, and Brady had less than twenty seconds left.

           “It’s a very disappointing world we live in,” Neal hinted stoically. Fifteen seconds.

           Brady opened up a desk drawer and Neal shifted his feet slightly, prepared to get up if the businessman took out a firearm. “Not even myself,” Brady growled lowly, and Neal did hear a growl under the words, like he was in the room with an angry bear and not just a slighted crook.

           “What are you saying?” Neal challenged him coolly, and immediately regretted it, because Brady took out a long dagger with a curved scythe on one side. Suddenly, ten seconds seemed like an awfully long time to wait, so the conman decided to give his team an incentive to hurry up. “That’s an awfully big knife you have there,” he casually remarked while standing quickly from his seat.

           Brady shut the drawer by hitting it with his knee. “I could smell you on him the minute he walked into my office,” the man hissed, a low, animalistic growl emanating from his throat between words. “You’re working for them. You came in here thinking you could take me? I’m the one doing the taking.”

           “Who said anything about fighting?” Neal put his hands up to show that he was unarmed and harmless while backing away. The man was inching around the desk and Neal was still counting two seconds in his head, but now he couldn’t afford to wait patiently. “Listen to yourself. This is insane!” He laughed nervously. Anyone would be nervous when someone was angrily threatening them with a knife that looked like a cross between a dagger and a filleter. “I’m in cahoots with him just because we wear the same cologne?”

           “It wasn’t cologne!” Brady shouted, his forehead turning pink as it crept up his ears and the side of his neck. He took a sudden, lunging step forward and Neal dropped his arms, pivoting on his heel to sprint for the door.

           He hadn’t cleared three paces before a hand caught the back of his shirt and yanked him by the collar. The pressure of his tie knot yanking up into his throat made him cough and splutter while being manhandled towards the left wall. The artist stumbled, feeling an ankle slip and twist, and Brady, who had somehow moved twice as fast as Neal, threw the younger man to the ground with strength not remotely suggested by his frame.

           A kick to the side had Neal on his hands and knees, groaning through gritted teeth and trying to focus on the way out. It had been long enough. There were three agents already in the suite – if they weren’t here yet, then it had to be either they couldn’t hear or they had been trapped, too. Neal prayed for the former. If they heard radio silence for too long then they would know something had happened. Wouldn’t they? Right?

           “It’s not a bad plan,” Brady chuckled, seeming to be over his sudden rage. The growling sound had stopped. “Might’ve worked, too, if I didn’t have this extra ace.” He moved his right hand with the dagger.

           Neal flinched back, ducking his head to protect his face, waiting for the sting of a cut or the pierce of a stab. Neither came, and the apprehension had his hands trembling on the low-height rug. He looked up despite his better judgment and dropped his jaw in shock. Brady had sliced open his own wrist and was letting his blood drip down his hand.

           The man gave him a nasty smile when he saw Neal’s surprise. “This?” He waved the knife carelessly. “It isn’t for you. This is.” He put out his bleeding hand near Neal’s head and he cringed away, keeping far from the blood.

           “What kind of sick game are you playing?” Neal panted, eyes going to the office door, begging it to open. He didn’t care who was on the other side – just someone sane. Someone who would help him.

           “Don’t be such a priss,” Brady snapped irritably. “You’ll have to get used to blood.” He put the dagger slowly down towards Neal’s right side, holding the blade uncomfortably close to the artist’s cheek. Neal gritted his teeth. “This’ll be for you if you don’t. Make the better choice, Nick. Survive.” Neal didn’t answer. He didn’t know what he was supposed to be choosing and didn’t want to give Brady the satisfaction of knowing that he was ignorant and confused. He just stared down at Brady’s hard, polished shoes. “Come on,” Brady coaxed lowly, the growl beginning again. “Play along. It’s eat or be eaten.”

           Neal swore his heart doubled in pace right then as he understood, no further questioning necessary. It was all lining up. It was impossible. It was obvious. The sense of smell, the growl, the speed, the strength, the blood. What did he want more? To stay human or stay alive? Did he even fully know what it meant, to be something other than human in this time? Surely the last time a person made this choice, it was in the days of Salem.

           “Tick, tock.” Brady’s voice had a chilling edge that Neal had only heard come from Adler before. The cold flat of the dagger was pressed into Neal’s shoulder and the clinging drops of Brady’s blood soaked into his suit jacket. “It’s been a long time since I was this generous. I don’t like being ignored.”

           Life or death. Half-life or death. Whichever it was, it was something other than death. Neal didn’t want to die. He had the home he was making for himself during his work-release, and he intended to keep it once he was free. The entire world was waiting for him when he was free. He had friends, good ones, people he loved, that he wanted to see again. Neal didn’t understand why anyone would ever choose death, so truly, regardless of what Brady said, it had never been a real choice to begin with. He had to accept that help wasn’t coming. Not this time.

           Neal didn’t choose to live. He had to live, and he did what he had to for survival. Brady kept the knife on his shoulder with the scythe turned towards his neck, just in case he got any ideas.

           How much? How long? He felt choked by the thick blood in his throat. “Stop,” he pleaded in a cough, muffled by the vampire’s split skin. “No, no.” He started to turn his head but a hand grabbed his hair and yanked him back while the wrist at his mouth pushed harder on his lips. The pain lancing through his skull made his eyes water. The flat of the knife pressed harder into Neal’s shoulder, reminding him how close the blade was to his throat, forcing his obedience.

           As he drank more blood, Neal felt increasingly sick. Like he was forcing down spoiled milk, his stomach twisted and clenched. His face felt hot. This was supposed to turn him? It felt more like poison. The cramping was so bad that it made him lightheaded and he could almost stop tasting the iron on his tongue. The slamming open of the door didn’t register at all in the side of his vision, but Neal did hear Peter’s voice from far away.

           “Drop the knife!” His partner was screaming. The knife pressed harder into Neal’s shoulder and the artist felt the hand leave his hair. “Drop it!”

           The wrist was moved at last. His lips still felt wet. Neal swallowed and gagged, shutting his eyes tightly and pressing his hand into his abdomen in pain.

           “Should’ve known you’d come back for more, Burke. You don’t know when to quit,” the vampire snarled above him.

           The pressure at his shoulder was released and suddenly the legs were gone from in front of him. Neal slouched forward, barely catching himself with his free hand. The colors were blurring and turning feverishly bright. Whatever Brady did whilst Neal was staring sickly at the carpet, Peter didn’t like it; the gunshot sounded like a bomb, like another exploding jet, right in his ears. Neal screamed as he collapsed onto his side. It was too loud. Too loud. No more bombs. He was so hot. The white of the walls was so hot. It all burned his eyes.

           Peter’s voice was angry – no, well, yes, angry but also scared – and there was another bomb right behind him. Neal sobbed, curling in as much as he could to protect himself. His insides felt like they were on fire and he could see, again, the flames of the jet on the backs of his eyelids. He thought he could smell smoke. Explosives.

           All he could think was how it was happening again. He had lost Kate and now he was losing the people he loved, again, in more explosions. They took Y/N, they must have, that must have been the first – now second – bomb. And he couldn’t hear Peter anymore, not since the second – third overall – why did this keep happening -

           “Neal. Neal!”

           A hand shook his shoulder, digging in as tight as claws. “Peter,” Neal gasped, barely able to breathe through the pain and the grief.

           “It’s me, buddy.” His partner’s face was suddenly there and Neal realized he’d opened his eyes. When had he closed them? Peter was swimming. His skin was all bright. Something was very wrong and even though his brain felt like it was baking, Neal knew the problem was with himself. “Keep your eyes on me, okay? Help is coming.”

~~~ Bite ~~~

           Vampires were largely thought to be extinct. If they had survived the periods of hunting and slaughter, then they had opted to keep to themselves in remote locations. Brady must have been one of the few left, and somehow slipped under the radar for decades to avoid being detected. That explained why he was so hard to find a history on. While they were best known (and most feared) for relying on the blood of others to survive, most folk stories said they had superhumanly keen senses. Some reported abnormal speed and strength, but those accounts were relatively new to the folklore; whether or not they were true was anyone’s guess.

           Except for Neal, who didn’t need to guess. Who had learned, firsthand, how quickly those keen senses had set in, and who had torturously learned while his mind was suggestible, terrified, and hazy from the illness and agony of an unwanted mutation. You couldn’t even imagine how horrifying must have been to smell the gunpowder, hear the explosions so intensely, and attach a feverish heat to the brightness of the colors. It was no wonder Neal had called out in the following days.

           “Help did come,” Neal murmured, not meeting your eyes. “But I don’t remember much after that. My memory’s in and out until a couple days afterwards.”

           “So… you’re a vampire now?” Was the first thing you quietly asked him. Neal looked at you and nodded once, jaw tight, eyes looking dark. You couldn’t imagine how angry, scared, cheated he must feel for having this virus shoved onto him. “So that means you need blood,” you continued, talking through your train of thought. Neal had seemed to rebound awfully fast between the first and second weeks after the incident – maybe because he had stopped starving. “The prostitutes,” you realized. “You’re not paying them for sex, you’re paying them for blood.”

           “There’s mutually-assured destruction if they report me,” Neal claimed almost defensively. His shoulders were still open but you could see how badly he wanted to just turn away and fold his arms protectively around himself. “To say how they know what I am, they’d have to admit I hired them. Sex work is still criminal. And, because of their work, most of them get screened every three months.”

           “But you don’t know what they’ve caught in the meantime, or what they might do to you or tell other people,” you said, dismayed. Neal was putting himself at risk in many different ways, and the worst part was it wasn’t his regular brand of headlong overconfidence. He truly did not feel he had any alternatives. “Neal, you could have told us, we’re your friends, we could have helped.”

           “Helped how?” Neal scoffed so harshly that it sounded like it hurt his throat. “This isn’t reversible. I have to live with this for the rest of my life. If I told, and the bureau decided that being this thing makes me a liability, or a public safety issue, then I go back to prison. Being a snitch and a vampire? The first guy to shiv me would win free smokes for a dime. I wanted my friends. I hate what I have to do. None of it was a gamble I could afford to take.”

           You looked down for a minute, understanding. It hurt that he thought his team, you included, might do anything that put him at risk. The last thing you wanted was to see him in prison. He had to have been scared. Upset. Angry. Frightened for his safety and his future, and his health. And what was he going to do if he couldn’t afford a hooker’s prices every week? You were so hurt that he didn’t trust you enough to come to you after you had been so close to taking that step into being more than friends, but as you tried to see it from his perspective, you couldn’t fault him for it.

           “I wanted my friend, too,” you admitted to him, looking up guiltily. If you had pressed sooner, maybe you could have convinced him to tell you everything weeks ago.

           Neal’s face softened in response as he finally loosened up. Strands of dark hair tumbled out of his coif and into his face as he shook his head gently and reached for you, putting a hand on the side of your thigh and leaning towards your chair.

           “It isn’t your fault,” he promised you in spite of his frown. “No one would have guessed. How could you? Vampires are supposed to have died out. I didn’t want to risk myself, and I didn’t want to scare you.”

           “You wouldn’t have scared me,” you promised immediately. There wasn’t even a thought behind it. Neal had never, could never scare you; this you had known for what felt like forever. Even when you finally connected the pieces and knew what he was telling you, there hadn’t been fear in your system. Just shock, and fear on his behalf, and so much sympathy that you almost cried.

           “I scared myself,” he disagreed, implying that you would have been scared, too. He stroked his fingers down to your knee before pulling his hand off. “That first week, everything hurt so badly I could barely speak. Everything was so much brighter and so much louder. Nothing I cooked satisfied the hunger, and then I had to spend eight hours a day surrounded by dozens of bodies of fresh blood.” The conman swallowed hard while thinking about it. “It would be like if you hadn’t eaten in days, then sat for hours in a steakhouse and couldn’t order anything.”

           It should have been chilling to hear Neal compare his coworkers – yourself presumably included – to steaks, but oddly, it wasn’t. You couldn’t pull a Dahmer comparison out of your hat and you still didn’t feel remotely threatened. However desperate he may have been, Neal had never caved. He had never hurt anyone. You had always loved his pacifism and no matter how his biology may have changed, his recount only seemed to prove that his self, Neal, had not.

           “Every time I think I know how strong you are,” you told him, amazed and impressed. “It turns out that I’m still underestimating you.” To be so hungry and so in pain, and to keep to himself for fear, and still be able to function in the office? He had been quiet, sullen, out of character, but functional. That was a feat.

           Neal’s eyes widened just a touch before he blinked and tried to reign in his surprise. The more you talked, now, the more you could see the tension draining from his body. The negative reaction he had anticipated failed to occur, and the artist was beginning to see that there was no need for all his anxiety. His shoulders and back were less straight and he sat more comfortably, more openly, to continue conversing.

           “Ah…”

           Unsure how to respond to your compliment, Neal looked at the matching mugs of coffee still on the table. You now wondered why he had brewed himself one when he had already said that he needed blood to be sated, but then again, Neal had always been a creature of comforts, not just necessity.

           With his left hand, he rubbed the back of his neck. The informant had to think for a moment and figure out where to resume his story. “Right, well…” Neal looked so young with relief and uncertainty on his face. It took a lot of self-control not to just reach out, cup his cheeks, and kiss his forehead with a promise that everything would be okay. He cleared his throat. “At the end of that first week, I realized I couldn’t put it off any further. Nothing was working, and I don’t think I could forgive myself if my stubbornness and my hunger meant I lost control and hurt someone. I found a streetwalker for discretion, and…”

           You put your hand up there. He was clearly uncomfortable with what he had resorted to, and you had already covered his means of sustenance. Neal moved around in his seat to reposition himself.

           “They’re not all willing to be bitten,” Neal said warily. “But someone I talked to knew a friend who charges extra for people who like blood.” You raised your eyebrows. Something told you that the kind of work she charged extra for was different from what Neal was asking, but at least he had found a source. “She was willing, and she’s who you saw last week, too.”’

           “I’m so sorry you were alone,” you told him, reaching out yourself. Neal didn’t pull away from your hand, but he eyed it until you had been touching his arm for a few seconds without moving. “But you were alone. You aren’t now.”

           “I’m used to keeping secrets… keeping to myself… because of my choices.” The artist lifted his head and looked up your arm to your face. He chose his words carefully and spoke haltingly, worrying his bottom lip between phrases. “I’m used to choosing a guarded life... there’s no choice in this.” His eyes looked so deep and so sad. “But I can choose not to bring you down with me.”

           Before you could object that Neal would never “bring you down”, as he put it, or even say that he still had choices he could make to keep his life his own, Neal looked down from you and his shoulders shuddered noticeably while he inhaled an uneven breath. He had to work hard for it, and couldn’t keep it, and had to try again, keeping everything he was feeling held at bay long enough to keep up his strong face and hold a level tone. You wanted to surge forward and wrap your arms around him and hold on until sunrise, and you equally wanted to scold him for acting like a martyr. Before you could choose which to do, he looked up again and his expressive eyes were filled with water that just hadn’t fallen yet. The air was punched out of your sails by that vulnerable, lost look. It was the look of a man who had had everything ripped away from him.

           “I wanted our later,” Neal whispered sadly with a quaver.

           “Later.”

           “I’m going to hold you to that.”

           If Neal thought all it took was one tragically traumatic, life-changing event to rip that away, then he must not realize how serious you had been when you acknowledged his promise and made it your own. You couldn’t fix everything that was broken, but you weren’t leaving him alone. He had made a promise, one he still wanted to keep, and like hell were you going to let him decide for you that the promise needed to be broken.

           His health, safety, security – the two of you were clever, resourceful people. You would find a way. As for his found home, though he thought he was helplessly losing everything, Neal had every right to the life he had earned and he was surrounded by people who cared for him more deeply than he realized.

           You squeezed his arm gently while taking his other hand. Eyes on his, you said solemnly, “I still do,” and forced his hand open so that you could interlock your fingers with his. “And you know what?”

           Neal swallowed and his voice scratched in his throat while he struggled to hold back the tears. “What?”

           You stood up from your chair, took a step to his, and bent down to his level. Neal lifted his head as you moved to follow your actions and when he blinked up at you, his eyes cleared and teardrops swiftly rolled down his cheeks. Ignoring them, you tilted your head to press your forehead tenderly to his. Neal blinked again before shutting his eyes and tightening his grip on your fingers.

           “Later is now,” you told him quietly.

[enby-crisis]

Me Before You (Draco Malfoy x Reader) Pt. 1

Okay let’s give this a shot... I've had this one for awhile and its actually a series I was writing for Watt-pad but lets see house it does here as a test.

Masterlist

Summary: Follows the timeline of Half Blood Prince. Reader is the cousin of Voldemort. That will make more sense later. I solemnly swear. Reader is a Slytherin. (Sorry to the other houses... mostly Ravenclaw) Y/n Guant is the first born girl in two generations to not be born a squib. Before the disappearance of Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord ordered Marty Crabs Jr. to make sure that her halfblood father and squib mother were murdered and take her to be raised by her uncle as his own and to have pureblood beliefs so one day she can marry the Malfoy's son to keep the bloodline going. Lucius and Narcissa were to make sure that the children were to be married and for that reason always loved her around. Since she looked just like her uncle she never doubted she was anything else but theirs. She’s known Draco all her life and by her sixth year already had a relationship with each other. Not all endings are happy are they?

Borgin And Burkes

 I wait for the Malfoy family to arrive in the small shop. Pacing and pacing until the door eventually swung open. I sighed in relief when I lay eyes on the tall platinum blonde boy that I've known since childhood.

I made eye contact before looking down to take the stride over to go hug him. I hadn't seen him since the hearing for his father that Voldemort had me attend with Draco and Narcissa to oversee the event of Lucius being placed into Azkaban but were not allowed to speak until Draco was to become a death eater.

"Not so fast there, (Y/n)," Voldemort spoke in monotone, "His family has disgraced us. You must do your casualties after the ceremony. Please let him prove his loyalty to you and I once more."

I take my steps back to my cousin's side obediently and give an apologetic smile to Draco. He nods discreetly in understanding of the situation.

I looked back to Voldemort who smiled cunningly at me. I shivered but gave a small smile of my own.

"Good girl," He praised, "This is why you don’t need my mark." Draco looked at me in confusion and I pulled my blouse sleeve up to explain the comment a bit. He looked back to Voldemort when he figured out what was going on.

"I knew you were loyal from the start. My own blood runs through you my sweet girl. You are bound for better! You don't have to prove yourself to me. Ever. Now! All of you follow me."

He ordered and took Bellatrix's arm and my own as we apparated to a large field with steps leading up to show an angel statue. It was probably a dead relatives grave but he didn't care. The rest of the people in Borgin and Burkes were soon behind us.

I followed my cousin up the stairs and stopped on his left side, always a step behind him. Whatever he did, I was expected to do as well.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy," Voldemorts voice rang directly in my ears.

Draco turned around and ripped his arm out of Narcissa's grip. She dropped her hand and walked to go stand by her sister at the first step. Other loyalists were standing behind them. Mostly the last heirs to the pure blood families known as the Scared Twenty-Eight. Any family that still remained pure blood at the end of the 1930s. These ones were loyalist who pledged themselves to Voldemort the first time during the first wizarding war. Before I was born. Not too long before. I was born almost exactly eight months later.

"Come forth to receive the mark that so many before you find as a great responsibility and honor to receive." Voldemort continued.

Draco took slow and careful steps up to where we were standing.

"Pledge your loyalty to me as your father and aunt did before you all those years ago. Swear your inevitable allegiance to me as your lovely betrothal to my sweet (Y/n) has done." Draco reached the top of the stairs and rooted his feet at the top step a pace in front of Voldemort.

"Promise to continue the pure Slitherin bloodline for generations to come."

Voldemort asked for my wand with a closing motion of his hand. I placed my 13 inch wand in his hand. With its core of a dragon heart string it will do just fine for this task of drawing the ink in Draco's forearm. Why he wasn't using his own wand confused me but asking questions wasn't an option for me. Voldemort grasps my wand with both hands admiring the Brazilian Olivewood carving of a snake before pushing Draco on his knees and pulling his sleeve that covered his left forearm. Always the left.

Draco looked at me as tears had welled in my eyes. Fear of the future rooting my emotions.  I'm also mad. It seemed unfair for the two of us to have our lives planned so thoroughly. I placed my hand over my mouth for a moment to stop myself from making any unwanted sounds. Then they were back in tight fists at my side as the scene unraveled.

"I'm sorry" I mouthed to him the second his eyes glance to mine.

"Don't! Look at her. Look at me." Voldemort said with anger laced in his tone as he began to cast the spell to draw out the dark mark. Draco's attention shifts while I adverted my eyes to the another tombstone nearby but focused on the spell casting as well.  He grabbed Draco's arm and spoke only to say the spell "Morsmordre."

Draco winced as a snake and skull had woven themselves together on his arm.  It wasn't quite the most comfortable spell that can be casted. Or so Voldemort told me. He wanted there to be pain. He wanted control.

Voldemort dropped his arm and turned to me, returning my wand with bitter words. "Foolish girl." He murmured. I assumed due to the tears still pricking my eyes. I have truly fallen for this boy. "There. You can have him."

Draco stood and I ran to him almost pushing both of us down the stairs. Once he wrapped his arms around my back whimpers escaped me as my held back tears flowed more freely.

"Please." I murmur in Draco's ear. He knows what I mean. "I wont let you do this alone." He whispers back. "Nor will I." I say while staring at his mother and aunt.

Voldemort descended the stairs. All thirteen of them by floating back down to where Bellatrix was.

"Make sure she gets what she needs for school, Bell. I need the boy alone for a moment." She nodded.

He didn't bother to face us as he called for Draco to return to the small alleyway with his mother to reenter the shop once more that day and Bellatrix didn't mind pulling me out of Draco's death grip to apparate in front of the bank. Narcissa and Draco were next to us in a swirl moments later. They walked off towards the shop and I followed Bellatrix who was heading to a nearby store. Draco glanced at us before Bellatrix pulled me into a book store next to Olivanders. She handed me almost twenty five Galleons and turned around to walk off back to Bogin and Burkes but I grabbed her wrist to delay her.

"What happened to the wand shop?" I tried to hide the concern in my voice.

"Nothing that concerns you. Go get your supplies-" She spoke to me as if I was just an innocent child.

"But-," I tried to protest. I guess I still was.

"Now! (Y/n) please just do as you are told. Or we will both be in trouble." I have no idea why people like to remember my status and importance to the Dark Lord after they raise their voice at me.

"Yes, of course Trixie," I mocked with a swift crossing of my arms.

She growled at me before disappearing in a swirling motion before me. I quickly get the books and what small amount of school supplies we need for the new year for Draco and I so I can explore Olivanders.

I walk in pushing my way though broken glass and scatted wands. I bend down to pick one up. An 8 inch oak wood wand. It sparks in my hand in protest to it being out of its place on the shelves. Unicorns hair.

I wave my own wand in the air to repair the broken glass. The wands that were broken laid on the floor or shelves, lifeless. I started to pick up all the irreplaceable wands to discard of them later. I spend quite a few hours cleaning up the shop and remembering the summer of my third year that I spent in here helping Mr. Olivander.

Since the day I walked in here with Evan, my father, Mr. Olivander told me that I was capable of great things. I knew as much information about the wands he presented to me as I could. He was the wizard responsible for me raiding the train my first year looking for the wand with the almighty phoenix feather core. He told me how to feel the cores of wands.

Its how Draco and I became friends all those years ago and eventually more then friends. I may or may not have stolen his wand. Before that he never did like me as our parents forced us to be around each other. Go to birthdays and holidays together. Never anything either of us wanted to do but were both too polite and scared to speak up. When I stole his wand he finally saw me as a person. He wanted to kill me but grew respect for me taking it out of his sleeve without him noticing until I gave it back.

I was told stories about his mother and aunt. Bellatrix was never around when we were kids due to her arrest and when she was around she treated me like a kid. She though that any other treatment would be disrespectful to Voldemort's little princess. Since I was related to him, somehow she began fearing my rejection as well.

As the dark night sky settles in I walk out of the shop, locking the door before making my way to Malfoy Manor.

Me Before You pt 2

[antoniatzhang]

03.01.1980

A pre-school trip to Diagon Alley was never properly rounded off without a quick stop at Knockturn Alley and a visit to Borgin & Burkes. Antonia had never actually purchased anything at the shop, but she’d taken a liking to the quaint, bizarre nature of the goods sold at the shop. Unassumingly it was that she walked into the store and browsed from trinket to trinket. It almost felt like she’d seen it all, already, from the array of cursed old hats to the impaled komodo dragon paws and what was supposed to be Grindewald’s childhood night gowns displayed on a mannequin.  

Her attention was caught by a small, glimmering object on the bottom-most shelf of one of the store’s corridors. She knew what it was at once  – a sealed memory vial. An odd object to be found for sale. Antonia picked it up and examined it against the scarce daylight that peeked in through the windows of the store, the thick liquid swaying in iridescence inside the glass vial. 

“How much?” Her eyes were still glued to the vial as she asked, but the silence told her no one had heard her. Had she even made a sound? Snapping out of the vial’s lock, she cleared her throat to repeat the question. That seemed to catch the clerk’s attention. Not that she cared for the answer. She barely checked the change from the purchase before exiting the store, with haste.

Antonia hardly felt the lightness in her head from apparating when she found herself in her room at the Wimbourne House again. Without wasting any time, she recovered from the darkest, deepest spot of her closet something she didn’t think she’d be using for at least a few more years, if ever — her grandmother’s pensieve. What was she about to uncover? What secrets might this odd little vial contain?  The possibilities were endless. Vial in hand, she pinched the fingers around the seal, popped it open, swirled the contents around and dumped them into the pensieve. 

It took her another moment to take a breath and sink her face into the pensieve’s liquid. It was warmer to the touch than she’d expected. Everything around her tumbled down gracefully to give place to bright sunlight through a film of green and a warm, heavy breeze. She realized she was hanging upside down from a tree, and laughter willed itself out of her. Her hands dangling around her weren’t exactly hers — they were a child’s hands, plump and smooth. 

A child’s hands. Panic struck her, then, because this felt an awful lot like several childhood memories of her own. Carlessly climbing tall trees in the summer. Could this possibly be her own memory, stolen away, somehow?

A figure caught her attention from the corner of her eye — a beautiful woman inching closer, probably in her thirties, impecably dressed and so very happy.  Adoring and loving. Excessively, she thought. The beautiful woman uttered a muffled, unidentifiable sound and the child, finally distinguishable from herself, looked to her as if being called and giggled, also joyfully and brightly. This was not her memory, after all. Antonia watched the exchanges between the mother and child (she figured) — how the kid hid his face behind his hands and the mother pretended not to see him, only to play startled when he came out from behind them, again. His giggles and her giggles. She didn’t expect any of it to make calm her so. She didn’t expect anything like this from this memory vial — no, she was expecting perhaps a grand dark secret awaiting to be uncovered, and yet she didn’t feel frustrated at all. She felt a peace unlike anything she’d felt in a long, long while.

When the child let his body drop onto the woman’s arms with unwavering trust, Antonia felt again, if only for a second, the pain from her broken bones on the countless times she’d fallen with no one to hold her down below. How proud she was of living through these episodes with such little damage. But at that moment, her biggest wish was to let go, too, and be caught before she reached the ground, safe and sound. She let her calves slip from the tree branch, her weight plummeting to the ground, almost in slow motion. Falling through that warm, silky air that embraced and caressed her, for so much longer than would be reasonable if this wasn’t a memory, a dream. 

And then, as she gasped in both wonder and horror, her room rebuilt itself around her on a whim, cold and relentlessly real. 

Her eyes stood fixated on the penseive for a few more minutes. So badly did she want to get back in there, let that peace take hold of her for a little longer. Maybe she didn’t uncover any great buried secrets, but her mind was sizzling with ideas of what she might have found in its place. Don’t all people want this, at the end of the day? A retreat from life in the form of memories, be them their own or other people’s. Something to soothe us in the places where we ache. She certainly did. The rush that ran through her veins was quite unlike anything she’d ever felt from any mundane poison. This was a drive to action, to put her twisted ideas into form to finally, if she dared say it, make something of herself. 

By the end of the day, she had a business plan, and just enough nerve to put it in practice.

[deputyrhiannonhale]

Nodus Tollens Chapter 1

(A/N and ooc) ok everyone, here is my first chapter to my Far Cry 5 fic with my OC Rhiannon Hale. I've worked really hard on this character and I hope everyone enjoys her and her adventure!

I will add trigger warnings for each specific chapter, but the general triggers are: toxic relationship, canon-like violence, and mentions of abuse.

Also, if you want to be added to the tag list, just let me know!

*****

Two years. That's all the time that had passed since Rhi left Hope County, to go back to Billings to settle her affairs and continue her training to become a police officer. Two years isn't long, especially not long enough for what Earl was telling her about how much had changed.

When she was recovering from her injuries and her step brother Deeter's death, she knew there was a, for lack of better terms, cult settling in the county. She had only had the one run in with a religious zealot, trying to tell her that her loved ones were in a better place, and now she's learning there had been plenty more and they had now been kidnapping people, buying up land, basically taking over.

Right now, she was even watching a video on her phone that got leaked of a "sermon"-Rhi uses that term loosely-where the leader gouged out the mans eyes who had been recording this video.

The streaming video started to buffer and finally cut off and Rhi made a frustrated sound. Earl tapped her knee, an amused smile on his face.

"I know, Unk, no service." Rhi stated on a scoff before he had the chance, as she put her phone back into the depths of her pocket. It was one of the things she didn't care for in this part of the state. Spotty cell phone service, and at the same time, it made her more uneasy this time around. She shook off her anxious feeling, assuming it was just first job jitters.

Rhi looked out of the helicopter, seeing a giant statue of the leader himself; Joseph Seed. 

"Wait...what is his last name?" Rhi asked, her head turning back so she could look between Burke and Earl.

"Seed?" Burke answered, his tone overly confused, and Rhi's blood ran cold causing her to shiver.

No, that had to be just a coincidence, right? Was Seed a common last name? Certainly John wasn't a part of this? He couldn't be...how could he have hidden something like this from her for literal months? Rhi shook her head again. Of course it was impossible. 

She looked down at her right forearm, her gloved hand tracing along the momento mori tattoo her John had given her back during those months. He's not related to this crazy man, she thought to herself, completely galvanized in her decision.

Rhi watched the ground as the helicopter slowly descended towards it, everything suddenly seeming surreal. A religious cult? It's something she'd only ever heard of when watching documentaries, never something she thought she would actually be face-to-face with.

She followed along behind Earl, Burke and Hudson, her head on a swivel, watching all of the Project members sizing them up. Rhi jumped when a dog began barking, causing her to curse under her breath. 

"Goddamnit, calm down!" She commanded herself, even though she had every right to be on edge, the air was thick with tension. Quickening her pace to catch up with the others at the church doors, Burke and Earl were still bickering as Joey touched Rhi's shoulder.

"You'll be fine." She encouraged, Rhi gave her a small lopsided smile before taking a deep breath and walking through the double doors.  

Rhi's heart was pounding, not really from nerves now, but from adrenaline, as the Project members slowly turned in their seats, eyeing the trio as they walked by. Rhi's body tensed, ready for a fight if needed, her eyes scanned the small room, taking it all in and that's when she saw him. Her body had NOT been ready for that.

John.

It had been her John all along. She felt her heart sink to her knees, her stomach was in knots, stinging of tears threatened however a more familiar feeling washed over her: anger.

He seemed just as taken aback to see her waltzing into the church dressed as a deputy, however, John quickly regained his composure, looking away from Rhi, which caused her anger to rise more. Why was he looking away from her? Acting like he doesn't know her? She watched as he moved to stand behind Joseph. She gritted her teeth, her tiny fists clenched at her sides, not even hearing what was being said anymore. She was fully aware of the tension building all around them as the church members gathered, she could hear the voices raising and she could feel her body temperature elevating, her cheeks were warm, her heartbeat was thumping loudly in her ears. All she was focused on was John though.

How the fuck could he lie to her about his involvement with this? Why the fuck did he hide this from her? What the fuck was the reasoning behind it? Or even his approaching her to begin with? The gears were turning a millions miles a minute as she began connecting dots.

John approached Rhi a day after her run in with who she now realizes was Joseph. She was mad and hurt about Deeter's suicide, and she was being irreverent towards Joseph trying to use religion to help her feel better.

Of course.

"John, what the fuck?!" Rhi's outburst was unexpected, causing Earl and Burke to look at her wildly, as she stepped forward, not even looking at them, her hazel eyes only glaring daggers at the youngest Seed brother. She felt Earl place a hand on her shoulder, not understanding how she even knows John Seed personally enough to speak to him like she has. She could see the tall red headed man-he had to be Jacob-flanking on Joseph's right side give John a confused glance, but John didn't take his eyes off Rhi, her nostrils flared at his silence.

Rhi twisted away from Earl's touch, shooting him a quick, don't touch me look, before turning her attention back over Joseph's shoulder to glare at John once more. 

"How could you not tell me about this, huh?" She shouted, waving her hand around, gesturing towards Joseph and the church. "Was it all fun for you? Did you guys have a good laugh at the poor girl who was dealing with her step brother's death?" Rhi continued, her hand on her hip as her free hand was still motioning around wildly. Joseph looked over his shoulder at John, a clear frown on his face, he didn't approve of whatever was going down here between them.

"Rhi…" Earl's voice finally broke through her anger and she turned her glare onto her uncle, but seeing his face, which was a mix of confusion, disapproval and disappointment in her actions, the wrath left her veins immediately replaced by embarrassment over her scene. "Do you want to just cuff him, rookie?" Earl's tone was enough to get Rhi to focus back in what they were here for. Joseph's arms were still extended out to her, her outburst happening so quickly, no one really had a chance to fully process it.

"God will not let you take me." Joseph promised, and Rhi scoffed before she squared her shoulders and cleared her throat, as she grabbed the handcuffs from her belt and clicked them onto Joseph's wrists all while keeping eye contact with John. She could see his jaw muscles flexing and bunching as he witnessed his brother being arrested by the woman he had grown so close too. Jacob looked over at his brother and quickly shook his head, and John lowered his eyes to the floor as Rhi pushed Joseph out in front of her and placed her hand firmly on his shoulder and led him out of the church.

"Sometimes the best thing to do...is walk away." Joseph whispered softly, Rhi just rolled her eyes, and forcefully pressed her hand on his shoulder.

Rhi was so furious at John she barely paid attention to the members surrounding them as she paraded Joseph to the helicopter, she was muttering to herself, as if she was still fussing at John.

"You've grown close to my brother, my child?" Joseph's voice broke into her train of thoughts and she glared at the back of his head.

"Don't call me that." Rhi snapped, rolled her eyes, and she heard him chuckle, tightening her grip on his shoulder. She didn't want his eyes on her again. That intense stare really unnerves her. "Like you don't fucking know." She muttered under her breath, putting emphasis on her lewd word just for him. 

"I had sent him to you, yes, to bring you to us. I could see in your eyes you needed a family to love you unconditionally." Joseph admitted, softly, and Rhi's breath hitched in her throat at his words. 

"Yeah, well, he failed. Now shut up and just walk." Rhi retorted in lame attempt to sound tough, but he had hit a nerve. How could he have seen so much in her? Was she that easy to read? She had spent so much of her life building a wall around herself, she hated to know she was still so transparent, even if it had been noticed during her time of mourning.

It wasn't until they nearly made it to the chopper and a rock being thrown at Burke brought her back to her senses. It all turned into a blur of screaming and Rhi being forced into the helicopter with Joseph and the others.

All she could focus on was the creepy way Joseph was singing Amazing Grace, was this song supposed to be comforting? Maybe it was just his calmness in this distressing moment, she realized then he fully believed God would stop this.

Rhi's body was being jostled around as she tried to hurriedly fasten the safety belt around her waist after shoving away a woman with a shaved head, other project members throwing themselves at the helicopter, trying to pull Joseph out, trying to bring the chopper down? Who knew at this point. Rhi was beginning to panic just as the alarm bells started sounding off as the helicopter lost control as she grabbed a hold of her seat and they all braced for impact.

~~

Rhi groaned and slowly opened her eyes, hearing different voices that were distorted, like she was hearing them from underwater. She was looking around trying to get her bearings, the others were knocked unconscious still, and she touched Joey's neck to make sure she was still alive, she was met with a steady heartbeat and she sighed in relief. Rhi fully snapped to her senses, realizing everything was upside down, and finally looked to where her safety belt was the only thing that was keeping her from being on the upper part of the helicopter. It was cutting into her and she fumbled with it, trying to unbuckle it when she heard Nancy calling over the radio.

"Nancy!" She called out hopefully, reaching out in vain trying to grab the dangling headset before her. "Oh come the fuck on!" Rhi growled out, her fingers were nearly on it when a hand grabbed her wrist firmly. She screamed in surprise as Joseph's visage came into view, his blue eyes focused on her hazel ones intensely as he grabbed the headset for himself. 

It was almost as if static was filling her ears, she couldn't believe what she was hearing as she listened to the exchange between the Father and Nancy...she was in on all of this?! That fucking traitor. Rhi's blood began to boil again, as Joseph leaned in closer to her face.

"No one is coming to save you." A chill shot down Rhi's spine at his soft spoken promise, and she watched him as he was climbing out of the helicopter.

Rhi began to scramble, trying to undo her safety belt but it was jammed. Panic caused a bad taste at the back of her throat as she periodically looked back to the cult as Joseph was babbling about starting some reaping. 

The group came back towards the chopper, grabbing everyone in it, Joey began screaming, trying to get away, as Rhi grabbed onto her leg trying to save her, but it was a worthless attempt.

"EARL!" Rhi shouted, as her hands went back to the buckle at her waist, watching helplessly as her still unconscious uncle was dragged away from her. "UNK WAKE UP!" She was on the verge of tears, as Burke got her attention.

"We gotta get outta here!" He shouted to her and she growled.

"Nah shit!" She spat at him as she continued to struggle, watching as he got free and just ran, her jaw slackened by the fact that he ran off without trying to help her.

A rush of adrenaline got her focused and she finally got herself free and she crashed onto the top of the helicopter hard. She grunted, holding her elbow tenderly before that little voice in her head yelled 'RUN'.

Like a bolt of lightning, Rhi shot out of the chopper, stumbling slightly as she ran towards the wooded area where she had seen Burke disappear.

She had no idea where she was going as she heard bullets whizzing by her head, she ducked and weaved through the trees, her lungs burning as she willed her legs to pump harder. Rhi was putting as much distance between her and her pursuers as she possibly could. There were so many of them and only one of her. 

Rhi came to a drop off that landed her in a small pond. The water was cool against her flushed skin from her run, but she didn't give herself time to enjoy it before she was out and jogging again.

"Hello, is anyone there?" It was Burke's voice on her radio, she pulled it from the clip on her belt, and was about to chuck it into a tree out of pure spite against him for leaving her for dead, but the logical side of her brain told her that he may be her only way of getting out of this mess.

Rhi listened and followed where he gave his location.

Instead of unloading onto Burke all her thoughts of him, she just stewed in it as she ran to find the trailer he was talking about. How could he have left her for dead like that? He better have a damn good reason behind it. Maybe she should have told him she was on her way?

That thought came a little too late as she opened the door and Burke attacked her.

"Hey asshole, it's me!" Rhi shouted, swinging back at him out of instinct, and he made an audible noise and backed off.

"Rook, oh god, it's you." He said relieved and she rolled her eyes, straightening her jacket back out.

"Yeah, it's me. Fuck dude." Rhi understood why he'd attacked her, he did send a message out over the radio, probably an unsecured line and yeah she also realized that she should have told him she was coming. They were both a little at fault here.

Rhi checked the rooms as Burke explained that there was a truck outside and that they needed to get out and back to Missoula before coming back and saving the others. Rhi wasn't 100% that they should leave the others behind right now, but what choice did she really have?

"Ok, I'll guard at the window and if any of those Peggies show up, I'll cover you while you get the truck going." Rhi agreed as she picked up the nearby rifle, checking to see if it was loaded. 

She watched as Burke left the trailer and she shattered the glass with the butt of the rifle, positioning herself comfortably at the window, looking through the scope, she began firing on the cult members that emerged from the woods.

Rhi ducked down from the opening to reload her gun, taking a deep breath to clear the thoughts from her head. She was so worried about her uncle, she knew he could take care of himself, but she just couldn't handle the thought of another family member being hurt. Rhi kept hearing Deeter's voice in her head: 'Just relax. Picture the gun as an extension of you. An extension of your arm. Imagine the bullet as part of you, straight from your arm until it lodges into the target.' She was zoned in when she lined her shot back up, taking a few more out when Burke finally blew the truck horn to get her attention. After popping off a few more rounds to buy herself time, Rhi left her position, breaking another window, she hurtled herself out of the house and into the truck with Burke.

"GET THE FUCK OFF US!" Rhi screamed as she leaned out of the window, firing more shots at the tires of the trucks following them, trying to get the cult off their tail.

"Fuckin' Nancy…" She heard Burke mummer under his breath as she finally sat down in the seat. Rhi took several deep breaths, getting a moment to relax. "Damn, they've blocked the road!" He shouted and Rhi scoffed, wiping the sweat off her brow.

"Of course they fucking have. Just bust the fuck through it!" Rhi demanded, leaning back out of the window, spraying bullets and watching the Peggies scatter to take cover as Burke sped the truck up.

"There's dynamite in the back! Use it!" He screamed at Rhi, who nodded and grabbed several of the sticks as gently as she could, she leaned back inside long enough to get Deeter's lighter from her pocket, lit the first stick, and chucked it into the cab of the truck closest to them.

The Peggies in the truck cursed and bailed from the vehicle moments before the dynamite exploded and Rhi laughed, before a light above her got her attention, she rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated growl before flipping back into her seat, placing the lighter lovingly back into her pocket, patting it before turning to face Burke and pointing out the back window at the helicopter hovering them. 

"Oh fuck me running! They have air support too? What the actual fuck man?!" Burke looked into the rearview and cursed loudly, slapping the steering wheel hard. 

"They're in front of us too!" He pointed out, and Rhi looked in front of them as they were getting ready to cross the bridge that would lead to their freedom. Rhi once again leaned out the window, shooting the man who was manning the mounted gun, but she knew they didn't stand a chance when the bridge exploded and Burke jerked the wheel to the right and they plummeted from the bridge into the river below.

*****

Tagging: @ja-crispea @returnofthepd3 @dieguzguz @shelliechen @f0xyboxes @ramadiiiisme @hopecountygazette (lemme know if you dont want to be tagged)

[ma-sulevin]

Mattie’s made it to the Henbane! You know what that means?

Pairing: Sharky Boshaw/Female Deputy Rating: E, but mostly for swearing Warnings: Canon-typical violence, but nothing particularly explicit I don’t think Word Count: 5939, chapter three of twelve

Read it on AO3 instead and say nice things.

It wasn’t so bad at the marina, but the deeper into the Henbane they get, the more Mattie feels like she’s been smacked right in the sinuses with like a bat or a metal pipe or something. The pollen from the fucking fields of fucking bliss is so pervasive that she sneezes once every ten minutes on the dot, more than once alerting a nearby peggie to her hiding spot.

She just wants to pop three Benadryl and take an eighteen-hour nap. Maybe that would help.

Hurk and Boomer stay with her, neither of them particularly bothered by the clouds of icky greenish pollen floating in the wind, sticking with her through all the snot and the sneezing. Hurk is a constant source of chatter, which could be annoying but is actually pretty nice when the alternative is sitting in her own head worrying about everything that’s going on.

Joey. Staci. Earl. Burke. She hasn’t died again, and now she’s not sure those times weren’t bliss hallucinations. If they were -- could they happen again? Is she going to wake up in a hospital in Missoula strapped to the bed as a 10-96, her reputation in Hope County ruined?

Listening to Hurk’s (made up, she assumes) tales of the Monkey God and Kyrat is a much nicer way to spend her time. It’s good for a laugh, at least. The man is a little scattered, but he’s a natural storyteller under all that.

Mattie keeps an eye out for rogue peggie helicopters, but getting Tulip back for Adelaide isn’t her top priority by any stretch of the imagination. If she’s meant to find it, she’ll find it, and she’s not going to waste time and energy driving around until she stumbles across the right vehicle. There are real lives on the line she needs to take care of first.

A couple days after they leave the marina, Mattie’s radio comes to life once more with a request for help that has Hurk cheering before she can really parse out the message.

“Hell yeah, Sharky here--” (excited whooping) “--brain-dead cultists at the trailer park.”

“That’s my baby cousin!” Hurk says, somehow fucking bouncing even with that RPG cradled in his arms like a thirty-pound infant. “He’s at the Moonflower, let’s go get him!” He pins her in place with a hopeful look that she assumes he perfected on his mother -- and then sighs because it works.

She knows Sharky by reputation, even if she’s never personally arrested him before. She’s heard Staci and Joey talk about him, and she’s seen his wanted poster still up by the Spread Eagle even though he’s not actually wanted and is out on probation, probably.

“Okay, fine.” She makes a shooing motion at him and he sets off at a jog, heading up the mountain at a pace she knows he’ll be tired of in just a few minutes. She follows anyway, more sedately, along with Boomer, and they catch up with Hurk soon enough.

About halfway up, they find a car abandoned on the side of the dirt road. There’s blood smeared on the front passenger seat and on the door, and Hurk happily climbs in the back with Boomer, leaving Mattie to climb in the relatively clean driver’s seat.

The rest of the way to the trailer park is peaceful, no cultists or bliss fields, and Hurk barely snickers when she sneezes hard and accidentally jerks the wheel to the right and runs them through the grass for a bit.

Okay, next time they come across a gas station or a truck stop or a corner store or just a regular old house that hasn’t been ransacked: she’s dosing up on Claritin. This shit is getting old.

“This used to be a real nice trailer park,” Hurk comments, leaning forward in his seat to speak almost directly into her ear. She parks the borrowed vehicle a safe distance away from another one that’s already on fire, and they both watch as something inside the fence explodes. “Not so much anymore.”

She snorts, then coughs into her elbow. “Apparently not. Let’s go.”

They climb out and Boomer runs ahead, nose to the ground and tail wagging. There don’t seem to be any cultists hanging around right now, so she keeps her weapons safely holstered even though Hurk doesn’t bother with the same courtesy, just waves with one hand when he sees a man standing on top of one of the trailers.

Mattie casts a critical eye around the place as they climb up one of the ladders to walk across the makeshift platforms. Obviously this used to be a pretty standard trailer park, small but with a cute little playground in the middle for the kids. There are no cars sitting around other than hers and the one that was on fire, and the only bodies she can see are wearing Eden’s Gate clothes. Most of the residents must have joined up with the cult or turned tail before Sharky took over.

When they get close enough, they can see Sharky is holding a flame thrower which, okay, it’s technically legal, but it still makes Mattie frown to see him with one, and apparently that frown makes her look too much like a law enforcement officer, because Sharky takes a whole step back and yells, “You’ll never take me alive!”

Mattie just stares at him. Sharky stares right back.

Hurk laughs. “Man, we ain’t here to arrest you. You think I’d bring the cops to a barbeque like this? The dep’s cool, man.”

Sharky looks her up and down and then cocks his head to the side. “ ...oh, you’re not here to arrest me?” When she shakes her head, still frowning a bit, he shrugs and seems to accept her at her word. “Cool, sorry. I am Victor Charlemagne Boshaw, but--”

She listens as he launches into his speech about who he is and what they’re going to be doing over the next few minutes, and she knows it’s a terrible idea, and it must just be whatever genetics Hurk and Sharky share beyond frankly ridiculous names, but his enthusiasm is infectious and she finds herself agreeing to help him even though she shouldn’t.

The people he’s luring in need help. They need to be taken away from the Seeds’ influence and given to someone who can de-condition them, whatever that looks like. She doesn’t know how this stuff works -- it wasn’t covered in school or in the training she got from the Sheriff’s Department.

Her mind changes when she finally sees an Angel up close. Its eyes are completely white, unseeing but not in the way someone who’s simply lost vision would look. There’s a green shimmer to them, and standing too close makes her head spin around like she’s wandered too close to a bliss field again. They fight with inhuman strength, giving more of themselves over to the trouble than any human in their right mind would, and they shake off injuries that would bring down a normal person.

They’re fucking zombies. She nearly gets bit by one, saved only by the stained white mask covering its face, and it grunts and growls and then screams when she puts a bullet between its eyes. The sound makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, a shiver go down her spine.

What the fuck has Faith been doing to them?

What the fuck.

After the last Angel is put down and the last cognizant cultist is also put down, and Sharky’s speakers are all disconnected from his stereo, and Mattie is done celebrating the fact that she managed to not fucking die this time , Hurk and Sharky jog up to where she’s sitting on the playground steps reloading her rifle. They’re both keyed up, excited after the battle and running on adrenaline, but she’s just tired now.

She keeps saying it, but she’s so goddamn tired.

The first thing out of Sharky’s mouth is, “That was fuckin’ hot and uhhh not just cause of the fire.” She freezes, her rifle across her knees, the magazine in one hand and a few loose bullets in the other. Hurk is grinning at him, the beginnings of a laugh starting to bubble up, and Sharky immediately turns red and starts talking faster. “I mean, that didn’t help, but. I mean. Anyway. You did good, shorty, and if you want me to join up with you and Hurky, just say the word.”

Mattie clears her throat and goes back to putting the bullets back in the magazine. The smoke and gasoline fumes are mixing with her already irritated sinuses to give her a headache, and she has to pause to sneeze into her elbow again before she comes up with an answer.

“Sharky? If you burn down every field of bliss we come across, you can follow me anywhere.”

He absolutely lights up at her promise, face breaking into a wide grin as he does a little jig like he just can’t contain his joy.

It’s cute.

She ignores it.

---

“I don’t wanna argue with your plan or nothin,” Sharky says, tone conversational and voice loud over the roar of his flamethrower, “but do you think this is like… lightin’ up a giant joint?” 

Mattie laughs behind the bandana she has tied over her face. “I wouldn’t be upset about it if it wasn’t a hallucinogen,” she says. “It’s one thing to be high and another to think you can fly when you’re on the edge of a cliff.”

Sharky glances at her over his shoulder, eyeing her up and down. “You’re kind of unusual, for the fuzz.”

She shrugs, glances away before he does, catching movement out of the corner of her eye that’s probably just Boomer or Hurk. “These are unusual times, dude.” The movement isn’t either of her other companions, so she wanders a little closer while Sharky continues burning the plants. 

“Be careful!” She can barely hear his voice now, but it doesn’t occur to her to turn back to him, back to safety. “You can’t trust your senses out here!”

There are lights flashing in her vision, and she pauses to rub at her eyes with her knuckles. The lights are still there when she opens them again, her chest tight, and she pulls her bandana down so she can breathe freely.

It’s a mistake.

The bliss hits her full force, knocking her off balance, the vertigo from the marina back as Faith steps in front of her.

“Welcome to the bliss.”

Faith’s hands are on her shoulders, slipping down her arms to her hands, then she’s slipping away, and Mattie is following her without question, without even trying to grab a weapon , just… blindly following this woman through bliss pollen so thick it might as well be fog.

Faith stays just a step away the whole time, no matter how fast Mattie moves or how she lunges, giggling and twirling and speaking about who she really is in a sing-song voice.

Mattie barely even notices she’s on top of Joseph’s statue because Burke is there too, and when she tries to tackle him, he just… steps off the statue as Faith urges Mattie to do the same.

And, still surrounded by the bliss… she does.

---

“Oh, she’s waking up. Come on, Dep, you okay, man?”

She opens her eyes slowly, forcing herself to move even though every fiber of her being is screaming for her to keep her eyes closed and surrender to the white black white she’s gotten used to, that she’s started to miss just plowing through Hope County like it’s her own personal sandbox to destroy however she wants.

“I knew we shouldn’t have stuck around after the bliss started burning,” Sharky says, his voice coming from her other side. She can’t see either man, just the blue sky above her. There’s a single cloud that’s almost a perfect circle. “And you know I love fire, man, it’s just the best.”

She squeezes her eyes closed again, tight enough that she can see white lights that don’t have anything to do with bliss, then she opens them and sits up. She’s wobbly, but two sets of hands are there to help her, overlapping chatter from the two men drowning out her spiraling thoughts.

One of them hands her a water bottle and she drinks from it, unconcerned with the dampness from the grass cooling on her shirt and sinking deeper into her worn jeans. The water is warm and unpleasant, but she forces herself to swallow three mouthfuls before passing it back.

“Mayor’s on the radio,” Hurk says, talking a little louder to cut Sharky off. “Says they got supplies over in the jail, maybe they can help. Here, cuz, where’s the radio?”

Sharky produces the little hand-held with a flair, and Mattie wonders if they took it to call for help but doesn’t have time to ask because it’s switched on and she can hear Minkler’s voice coming through all tinny. “ Anyone looking for refuge, come to the Hope County Jail. We have beds and food here. ”

The radio goes silent and Hurk clicks it off. Mattie stares off in the direction she thinks the jail is instead of looking at either of the guys, and then she takes a deep breath. She doesn’t really want to go back to the jail, doesn’t want to see what happened to it once Joseph’s people took over, doesn’t want to face anyone she might know.

“It would be nice to have some real food,” she says, voice hoarse and throat raw. “Like, some vegetables.”

Both the boys are nodding, but Sharky’s the one who opens his mouth first. “I am not going to lie to you,” he says. “I have not pooped in six days.”

Mattie’s attention snaps from the crest of the hill to Hurk’s eyes, then they’re both turning to look at Sharky, whose face is a little screwed up like he’s not totally sure he actually said that out loud , and then... 

They’re all laughing, the tension broken, worry she hadn’t realized was on their faces melting away. She starts to stand and they both haul themselves to their feet and pull her up with them, propping her up between them, and she lets them because it’s been weeks since she felt the warmth of another human’s touch.

She lets Hurk drive, lets Sharky sit up front next to him, stretches herself across the back seat with Boomer on the floor, listens to them chatting about how weird it is that Hurk and his dad have the same name, smiles at the absurdity of it all, then frowns when guilt at feeling happy when her friends are being tortured sneaks in.

It takes a few minutes to get to the jail, driving slowly down the mountain and along switchbacks that Hurk is taking much more carefully than she really thought he would, and she’s able to stare at the trees passing upside down over her head. 

“Oh, shit, man.” The car comes to an abrupt stop and Mattie almost slides off the seat and onto Boomer. “Looks like peggies got the jail.”

Mattie’s stomach clenches; a cold sweat stands out on her skin. She sits up, leaning forward with her hands on the front seats. Sharky looks over at her, but she just stares through the windshield, squinting to see the details. There are peggies absolutely swarming in the front parking lot, up the hill from where Hurk pulled the car to a stop. 

“Shit.” Mattie digs her fingernails into the front seats, letting the little pricks of pain ground her for the half-second she needs to pull her thoughts away from fresh food and back to fighting. The peggies are overwhelming the jail; they need to help. “Jesus Christ, fucking -- okay. Hurk, do not blow up the jail, there are civilians in there. Find something off to the side, make a distraction. I’ll come in from the other side.”

“What do you want me to do, Dep?” Sharky asks, still too loud but serious now. His fingers are drumming on the door handle, ready to go.

She bites her lower lip, accidentally pulls a piece of dead skin off. “Fuck shit up.”

He hops out of the car and cheers. Hurk follows suit, and she jumps out with Boomer more quietly, double checking her AR-C before she follows them up the hill.

The place is a disaster. There are burnt-out cars in the parking lot, enough smoke floating through the air to make her eyes water, peggies screaming and attacking the outside walls. There are people she doesn’t recognize up on top, behind the razor wire, and she hopes they see her red flannel, Hurk’s stars-and-stripes, or Sharky’s green hoodie and realize they’re not peggies, hopes the smoke and chaos won’t be their downfall.

She doesn’t want to have to do this again, too.

Two peggies fall under her spray of bullets as something explodes off to the left side of the jail. As she’d hoped, the peggies scramble around, not sure who’s attacking them, and it makes it easy for her to sneak around and snap the neck of a third man.

When her radio crackles to life, she almost doesn’t hear it. “ Hey is that you, Rook? ” Earl. Earl. It’s Earl. He’s alive. He’s here? She blinks hard to clear her eyes of tears that suddenly have nothing to do with the smoke and squats behind a car that smells of burned rubber, pulling her radio to her face to hear the rest of his message: “ Ah, Christ, help us out here. ” 

She starts to press the talk button but a woman spots her, runs over with a shovel raised, and Mattie has enough time to wonder who shows up to a prison siege with only a shovel as a weapon before she has her pistol up and puts a bullet between the woman’s eyes.

When the last parking lot peggie falls, there are a few seconds where the only sounds are the roaring of flames, and then one of the doors in the wall opens. She walks through, doesn’t look back to see if Hurk or Sharky are following her, just steps into the courtyard and waits.

“Holy shit.” She snaps around to see Earl weaving his way through the rubble, his hat on his head and a smile on his face. He looks good, he looks healthy, and he’s trying to talk to her but she’s throwing her arms around his neck and bursting into tears before he has a chance to get out a full sentence.

He grunts and staggers back a step, but his arms still wrap around her waist and he squeezes her almost as tightly as she’s squeezing him. He rubs one hand up and down her back, soothing, shushing her when it only makes her cry harder.

She doesn’t care that she’s standing in the middle of the courtyard where everyone can see her. She doesn’t care that she’s getting tears and snot all over the shoulder of her boss’ uniform. All she cares about is that he’s alive, and he’s healthy, and he’s not an angel or trapped in a bunker, and she’s so overwhelmed with relief that she doesn’t know how to handle herself anymore.

“You’re alright, sweetheart.” He cups the back of her head like he might a child’s, comforting, and she draws in a shaky breath in an effort to just stop fucking crying. “We’re okay.”

She squeezes him even tighter for half a second then forces herself to step back. It feels like she has to unclench each of her fingers individually, has to scrape the toes of her stolen boots over the crumbling asphalt before she can give him the space she’s supposed to. She wipes at her eyes with the backs of her hands, wipes at her running nose and makes an ungodly noise when she intends to make a dainty sniffle.

“Sorry.”

“You’re alright,” he says, again, this time clapping her on the shoulder like he used to sometimes. “You really saved our bacon. The peggies’ve been throwing themselves at these walls for days. They just won’t let up.” He looks at the injured stretched out on the ground, then back to meet her eyes, a grim look on his face. “We really kicked open the hornets’ nest.”

Yeah. Yeah. They weren’t ready to arrest Joseph, should have waited longer or should have done it months earlier, before John had bought up so much of the county, before Jacob started kidnapping the locals, before Faith perfected her bliss formula, before everything went to shit.

Their moment of silence is interrupted by a man yelling a warning from the high walls, then being pushed back by a grenade. He falls in front of Mattie, his body hitting the asphalt with a sickening thunk. Blood pools under his head and his eyes stare, unseeing, up at the blue sky.

Earl jumps into action before she does, numbed as she is by everything. He checks the man’s pulse, yells for a medic, and part of her brain that she’d tried to bury wants her to respond. I’m a medic. I know that man’s gone. 

He snaps her out of it. “I need you up on that wall, Rook,” he says, and he looks sorry to say it, but his silent regret doesn’t make the need less dire, doesn’t mean not fighting back won’t lead to all of them being tortured at the hands of Faith or her brothers.

So… she does it. She does what he asks her to, does what she needs to do to protect the people in the jail. Minkler fights by her side for as long as he can, but he’s a politician, not a soldier, and the second time he trips over his own feet, she shoves him in the shoulder and tells him to get the fuck inside.

Sharky and Hurk fight with her too, performing better than she thought they would when she first saw them. Hurk, in particular, is able to keep his mouth shut and grenades sailing through the air with remarkable precision, so much so that she starts to think there’s some truth to the wild stories he’s been spinning in their down time. Sharky swaps his flamethrower out for a more reasonable AK-47, and she smiles when she sees it but doesn’t bother to reflect on why she thinks that weapon is reasonable, just keeps fighting.

It’s all she can do.

Just keep fighting.

---

“So are you fucking the sheriff, or…?” Sharky lets the tail end of his question trail off, like he hadn’t already asked the most important part, the part that has her wrinkling her nose in distaste before she starts laughing. He blinks at her, lips pulling up in a grin when she starts to laugh, and pulls his hat off to run his hand through his hair. It sticks up when he’s done, dirty, greasy from hours of sweating under the brim, and she’s happy the jail still has working showers.

“No,” she says. “I’m not. I’ve never even thought -- why would you ask that?” She sits on the edge of the cot she’s been assigned even though there’s still dirt on the seat of her jeans, starts untying her boots as she listens to Sharky take a sharp breath before launching into what she assumes is going to be quite the speech.

“It’s just, you were pretty happy to see him, I guess.” He pauses and sighs. “I’ve never seen anybody cry that hard into a hug.”

Mattie sits up and scratches the tip of her nose. She can feel her cheeks heating up a bit as he stares at her, waiting. “The Seeds have all my other friends. I thought they had him too.” She shrugs and fiddles with the tail of her shirt, rubbing the soft cotton between her fingers. Sharky’s looking at her with something a little too understanding on his face, so she looks down into her lap and chews at the dead skin on her lip.

“Hurky and me, we’ll help you get your friends back,” he says, squeezing the bill of his hat between his hands. She watches the motion, the nervousness of it, then meets his gaze just before he says, “That’s what friends are for, right?”

The earnestness on his face, of his offer, makes her smile. It eases the tight ball in her chest, and she takes what feels like the first full breath of the day. “I really appreciate it, Sharky.”

He shrugs, dismissing her thanks. “Once you get the other deputies back, you still won’t arrest me, right? For all the fire, and the murdering, and all?” He pitches his voice lower, but he’s still too loud. It’s like the man never learned how to whisper.

She stands and knocks his shoulder with her fist. “If anyone’s getting in trouble for what we’ve been doing out there, it’s me. You’re fine. I promise we won’t arrest you.”

“Okay, good,” Sharky says, voice brightening again. “You gonna shower now?”

“Mhm. Be right back.” She knocks him in the shoulder again for good measure.

He throws his hat at her back as she walks away.

---

She doesn’t remember dying this time. She knows what it feels like -- getting shot, falling too far, having her neck snapped, drowning, being run over by a car, or being struck in the face with the butt of some peggie’s rifle -- but she doesn’t know which of those things put her in the black white black this time.

She doesn’t remember, but she’s trapped here, searching through a place she can’t see for an exit she’s not sure exists.

Is this the final time? Has she used up her thirty lives and is now doomed to run through this place for the rest of eternity? Was she supposed to do something different, behave better, make choices for good and she ran out of chances and this is what hell is?

She grew up expecting a lake of fire, not this… nothingness.

She can’t stop the sobs, can’t stop herself from screaming for help even though it's useless.

She screams and screams and screams and

She wakes up with a start, her limbs jerking like she suddenly fell, and she tries to sit up but there’s a hand in hers and another wiping tears from her face. It doesn’t feel like a threat, so she relaxes and forces her eyes to look at something other than the ceiling.

For half a second, she’s certain the gentle touches belong to Joey, like she’s fallen asleep during a movie night and Joey’s absently stroking her hair. A half-second after that, she’s certain the gentle touches belong to Staci, because the hands are bigger than Joey’s, and he never complained when she flopped on him like a cat needing attention.

“There you are, shorty.” Sharky’s voice reminds her where she is and who she’s with, and she draws in a wet, shaky breath as the reality of everything crashes full-force into her. His fingers tighten around hers, and she curls her body around that point of contact. “You been crying in your sleep and didn’t wanna wake up, but you calmed down as long as I was holding your hand.”

She wipes her face on the back of her sleeve. “Sorry,” she says, voice thick and wet. “Did I wake you up?”

He brushes her hair away from her face. “Nah, I was still awake. Don’t worry about it.”

It doesn’t seem right that this large, boisterous man should be the one comforting her in the middle of the night, but she can’t help the impulse that tells her to nuzzle into his hand. She turns into it, blinking up at him in the dim light of what used to be the department’s bullpen, and he grins back down at her.

He’s sitting on the floor at the edge of her cot, long legs stretched out on the dirty tile floor, still in his jeans but now without his boots or hoodie. He’s got a ratty wifebeater tank on instead, stretched out at the neckline, and she can see faded swirls of ink on one of his biceps. She huffs out a laugh, and he squeezes her fingers in reply.

“How long’ve you been sitting there?”

She doesn’t mention their entwined fingers. He doesn’t seem keen to bring it up either.

“Uhh, dunno, like thirty minutes?” He shrugs, still playing with her hair. “You wouldn’t wake up.”

“I took like… four benadryl after my shower.” She starts to roll onto her back to stretch, and he releases her, moving back a little like he’s going to get on his bed. “I was dreaming that, uhm.” How best to describe it? He won’t believe her. “I was just trapped and no one could hear me.”

He nods again. “Don’t like small spaces?”

She actually does laugh this time, a sharp noise that surprises them both. “You could say that, yeah.” She considers telling him more, then remembers something he said earlier. “Wait, you’re still awake? Not sleeping?”

“Can’t always make my brain shut off,” he says. “Specially these days.”

She turns back onto her side and props herself up on one elbow, considering, weighing the pros and cons and the chances he’ll take what she wants to say the wrong way… then she decides a guy who’s willing to sit on the cold, hard floor holding her hand for half an hour to make her feel better is exactly the kind of guy she can trust.

“Come lie down with me.”

He blinks at her, cocks his head to the side like a puppy, like he’s not sure he heard her right. 

“I always sleep better when there’s someone with me. Maybe you will too.” When he doesn’t respond right away, she adds: “Humans need touch. It’s good for you. Just hop up here and go to sleep.”

He’s surprisingly silent, but he moves from his cot to hers, sits on the side to test the waters, then stretches out next to her when she doesn’t do anything to make him think her offer is a joke. She makes room for him, waits for his head to hit the pillow before she cuddles against his side, curling into his warmth with a self-satisfied sigh.

“See? It’s nice.”

It helps her forget the cold emptiness of the black white black in her dream, reminds her that this is real and she’s real and the people she’s fighting for are real too.

He jumps a little when he hears her voice, then he rolls onto his side, toward her. She gives him room to settle, then moves back in, head tucked under his chin.

“All good?”

He takes in a deep breath, lets it out in a slow exhale before he replies. “Yeah. You’re right.” His arm loops over her waist, just resting, then pulls her a little closer. “All good.”

---

Sharky doesn’t say anything about her nightmare or her offer-slash-demand for three a.m. cuddles, just slips out of her bed without waking her up from the second half of her nine-hour benadryl nap, leaving behind a cold spot and a pillow that smells faintly of gasoline. She was right though, sleeping with another body next to her soothed her until she was able to float dreamlessly through the rest of the night. 

She can only hope he feels the same.

Breakfast is instant coffee and a crumbly granola bar eaten at Earl’s side as he and the mayor take turns talking about events around the Henbane: bliss in the water, bliss plants growing unchecked, angels wandering along the roads, and Burke still with Faith.

“I can’t leave Joey and Staci to go after Burke.” She feels guilty even as she says it, knows the importance of the Marshal, but… “I can’t. You haven’t seen what I have.”

Minkler looks shocked, but Earl is nodding before she’s even finished her sentence.

“You do what you need to do, Rook,” he says. “We’re counting on you.”

She nods at him even though that makes her angry -- why is everyone counting on her? Why is this her responsibility? She’s not the only one in Hope County who’s physically capable of fighting back against the Seeds; she’s not even the most qualified.

She’s just the one person who managed to completely escape the Seeds on that first night.

“Hey.” His voice, pitched low, draws her out of that cloud of anger, and she blinks up at him as he says, “Stay safe out there, okay?”

The fight bleeds out of her as she sighs. “You too.”

Sharky and Hurk are already dressed and kitted up, standing by the jail gates and arguing good-naturedly about something. She catches just the tail end of the discussion, right when Hurk raises his voice and throws his arms out to the side: “--show my chimps, that’s right, they’re chimps, some respect! And don’t go slanderin’ their names!”

Sharky catches her eye and her confused expression and starts laughing even harder, tipping his head back and letting the sound echo around the courtyard. It’s catching, and she finds herself laughing before she has time to remember why she’d been frowning in the first place.

“You boys ready to go?” She stops a few paces away from them, tucks her hands into her pockets while she waits, and Hurk turns around to look back at her.

“I think I’m gonna head back up to the marina,” Hurk says, “maybe see if I can’t find Mama’s helicopter. You’n’Sharky’ll be okay without me?” He looks nervous like he’s afraid she’s going to say no, so she makes sure she keeps smiling at him even though the idea of him flying a helicopter makes her super fucking nervous.

“We’ll be okay, Hurk. You do what you need to do.” It’s the same thing Earl said to her, and she sighs a little even as her smile stays.

His face lights up. “Okay! Call me when you come back around, and I’ll come help you, okay?” He’s grabbing her up in a bear hug before she has time to nod, and she can’t do anything but chuckle as he picks her up off her feet and sets her back down. “Don’t get into too much trouble without me.”

“You too,” she says, breathless, amused, and she waits quietly as Sharky gets a similarly enthusiastic goodbye.

“Have you seen Boomer this morning?”

Sharky answers by pointing; Boomer’s on his back in a patch of sun, a woman Mattie doesn’t recognize kneeling beside him to scratch at his belly. Boomer blinks his eyes open when his name is called, then rolls to his feet like he’s just remembered he’s late for work. He gives the woman a wet kiss, which makes her laugh, and then runs over and jumps up onto Mattie with his front paws.

“There’s my good boy,” she coos, and ignores Sharky’s vague noise of disgust when she accepts a slobbery Boomer-kiss of her own.

When Boomer calms down enough to sit by her feet, she puts her hands on her hips and looks up at Sharky. “Ready to fuck up John’s day?”

His face lights up. “Hell yeah, chica. Lead the way.”

[chyrstis]

Nothing like a little friendly fire

I’ve been waiting to tackle the deputy’s first meeting with Sharky ever since first meeting him in game, b/c she was not prepared for how much fun he is.

Rating: T Word Count: 5.8K

Link to AO3!

----

The Deputy’s been tasked with taking down Joseph’s statue. To do that, however, she’s going to need help.

___________

She had never seen so many singed and melted speakers in her life. Not even when years back while moshing it out at a concert a pyrotechnics malfunction set the entire stage on fire. The scent of burnt wires and plastic filled the air as they continued burning, but not a single sound escaped them.  

And to finally have that silence after the rush before? That truly was bliss.

Hana placed her foot on the marked barrel and pushed it, rolling it towards the others stacked right outside of the Hope County Jail. It hadn’t been ruptured by gunfire or dented, but one lucky hit and she’d be out on her ass, an experience that she wasn’t about to repeat anytime soon.

Bliss was awful no matter the form, and after being laid out by a laced ‘bullet’ of all things, she was keen on avoiding any additional run-ins with the drug if she could help it. Out here over on Faith’s side of things, however, it flowed like water. Cutting across the shallower parts of the Henbane on the way here had her seeing stars, and she had to sit in the nearby bushes until the double-vision passed.

Blinking and rubbing her eyes, she’d almost missed the woman dancing right at the river’s edge. She’d jumped at the first sight of her, only to keep on watching, her eyes fixed on each skip, each spin, her white dress gleaming as she drew closer with each step.

Faith Seed had reached out her hand, letting it linger in the air between them. When Hana did nothing but stare in return, Faith snatched it back with a playful laugh before bounding off.

She hadn’t seen her since, but didn’t stop looking over her shoulder after that. Not until long after she’d finally made her way through the jail’s gates.

She smoothed her hair back, wrangling any loose strands back into the low bun she’d attempted earlier, and took a good look around the jail’s entrance, noting every last scorch mark and bullet hole that littered it. Twenty minutes ago it’d been a war zone. A fuel tanker had blown the front gate wide open, leaving them to scramble to hold back the waves of Angels charging forward, wave after wave compelled to do so from the music alone.

Now they could work on repairs, but the gates were going to be a big damn problem. The metal doors had warped from the heat of the explosion, and a group of resistance members guarded the front, giving the ones welding some semblance of a gate back together plenty of cover while they completed the job. This wasn’t something that could be rushed, but the literal hole in their defenses was looking more like an invitation for trouble the longer it was left open.

She tried to find tasks here and there to help, gathering up remains, disposing of the leftover bliss, and running rounds of watch. It was easier to stay busy, but all a part of her wanted to do was head back in and join Sheriff Whitehorse at the radio.

Seeing him alive and kicking – albeit frustrated with her for not even bothering to send him a message sooner – was the boost she’d badly needed. That night at the helicopter, she hadn’t been sure what to believe. With the smoke choking her, her arms too damn weak to grab for him or hold onto Hudson, she’d screamed her throat raw as she watched them all disappear.

And Burke, he’d cut and run as soon as he’d had the chance. She tried not to hold onto any bitterness, but it burned. Fear had pushed him to do it. Fear, and the thought of dying or worse as Joseph set his people upon them. People did awful things under duress. Awful, shitty things, and she’d been guilty of it too.

But she hoped when the day came and she found Burke again, there wouldn’t be a repeat of before. For his sake and hers.

“Hey, Deputy!”

She’d been in the middle of wiping the sweat of her forehead, and checked around until she caught movement from above.

Tracey gave her a wave from the top of the prison’s walls, one of a few posted up there for watch. At first glance, she didn’t seem any happier to see her than before, but didn’t seem ready to tear into her a second time either.

“Come up here for a second! We didn’t get a chance to finish our last conversation.”

Hana hesitated, but blew out the breath she was holding, and headed towards the nearby ladder.

When she reached the top, Tracey motioned her over to the group she was standing with. She looked Hana over just long enough for her to start picking at the fringe on her fingerless gloves, but before long Tracey’s posture relaxed and so did her stare.

“Sorry about earlier. It’s been nothing but hell here ever since we’ve been set up. I think this is the first time in a while where we haven’t been holding our breath and waiting for the next wave. Angels’ll still come pouring in. They always fucking do, but we aren’t worse off for dealing with them for once.” She shook her head. “I can’t even believe it. Fucking days of that shit, done.”

“And I come rolling up out of nowhere in the middle of it acting like an asshole with a hero complex.” Hana cracked a grin. “No, I get it. You’ve all been needing extra help for days now, and for all you know I’ve been doing nothing but doughnuts in John Seed’s turf out of boredom.”

Tracey snorted. “Oh, is that what’s been going on over there? Heard he’s pissed.”

Good, the pettier part of her thought. After being dunked during her botched baptism it was the least she owed him. “I’m kinda wishing I did now, but…there’s always next time.” Tracey wasn’t smiling at her, per se, but the lighter topic seemed to be on the right track. “Anyway, you didn’t call me up here just to shoot the shit.”

“No, I didn’t. I’ve got work for you.”

Hana’s eyebrows flew up. “Oh! I guess now that I’m officially a Cougar, it only makes sense.”

Tracey took one look at the pin Virgil had placed on her shirt and rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Don’t tell me you plan on wearing that around.”

“Aww, it’s kinda cool being part of a club again. Haven’t been in one since I was…” Probably seven or eight years old, if she had to guess, but judging from Tracey’s unamused expression, she really wasn’t appreciating the tangent. “Never mind. You were saying?”

“We’ve all been trying to figure out the best way to get at Eden’s Gate. If you ask me, it all comes down to one person: Faith. She controls the bliss, she made the Angels, and she’s the one pushing people to walk the Path through participating in a damn pilgrimage to Joseph’s statue. A pilgrimage to show their ‘true’ faith in him.” She spat at the ground. “The man’s as much of a god as she’s a Seed, droning on and on about only being a fucking mouthpiece for him, but he has no problem with his people putting him up on a pedestal either.  Faith’s little gift is only fueling that.”  

Filing away the comment on Faith for later, she found herself very interested in where this was going. “Okay, so on the subject of marble Joseph being an even larger asshole than Joseph already is, where do I come in?”

“You? Well, I want you to drive a giant fuck-you-sized hole right through it. You weren’t shy before around explosives. Hell, that was the only way to get the damn speakers to shut up. You want to do us a real service out here?” Her lips twisted into a bitter grin. “Go out to that giant fucking eyesore and blow it right off of the map.”

Opening and closing her mouth a few times, she waited for Tracey to give a sign that she was kidding, or to reveal the real job at hand. All she did instead was raise an eyebrow at her expectantly. “…Seriously?”

“Did I stutter?”

She did not. Not even remotely.

“So, say I did want to do this, and don’t get me wrong, sending that up in a hail of fire and smoke would be pretty damn fantastic,” Hana began, “but that’s a statue. Unless you’re all hiding one hell of a payload somewhere in the prison, or there’s some wildcard prepper out there sitting on a treasure trove of fireworks and other such paraphernalia…”

She trailed off when she noticed a few of the resistance members trading knowing looks. A few even started nudging each other, and she stood there with her eyes narrowed for a hell of a lot longer than necessary.

“Okay, please elaborate on that, because you’re all leaving me in suspense here.”

The older woman on the left spoke up. “You gotta go with Boshaw and the Drubman kid.”

“Kid?” The one with the baseball cap shook his head. “Hurk Jr’s no damn kid-“

“If there’s something that needs blowing up they’ll be there,” she replied, ignoring him, “and where there’s one you’ll find the other. They’ve been getting up to who knows what judging from the calls coming in over the radio.”

Tracey rolled her eyes. “And half of the county’ll be a burned-out wreck by the time they’re done. But they’re solid bets if you want to do some real damage, and I’m surprised neither of their asses have ended up here yet.”

“You don’t say.” Hana tugged at a loose strand of hair as she thought it over, twirling the red-brown strands around her finger, and the more she considered it, the more she liked it. “Anyone got their last known positions?”

“I thought I heard something about Sharky being out by Moonflower, you know the trailer park? Don’t know if he’s still hanging tight there, though. I hear the Angels are out there in droves, so he’ll have his hands full.”

She nodded, and took out her map. “Moonflower… Moonflower…”

“Right here.” Tracey placed a finger on a spot just north of the jail.  “Warning, if he is there, shout at him first, got it?”

“Sure, so he won’t swiss-cheese me on accident?”

“So he won’t roast you on accident. The guy loves his flamethrower to death, and isn’t afraid to use it. Unless you really want to see just how good of an aim he is up close, just avoid it, got it?”

After her last near-death experience by fire singed her hair? Nope, not happening.

Hana flashed her a thumbs up. “Got it.”

----

The rickety truck she’d stolen on the way there was still in the haphazard spot she’d left it, half wedged in the dirt off of the road.

She plopped into the seat, not even bothering with the seatbelt, and threw the truck into the reverse to try and guide it back to more even land. It creaked as it went, jostling her the entire way and she dreaded listening to that, let alone actually having to work her way through a car chase if anyone happened to recognize her.

It wasn’t a tough feat with her penchant for red clothes still going strong, and sunglasses could only do so much to cover up her eyes. She was still her same over-freckled self, and her mannerisms would give her away no matter how perfectly her outfit hid her. It just couldn’t be helped.

“…But maybe snagging a cap at some point wouldn’t hurt,” Hana muttered to herself, struggling to turn the steering wheel. Something internal had gone, possibly a leak somewhere, making it a near-Herculean effort, and would only get worse over time without repairs.

The sound of static by her side made her jolt, but soon the Sheriff’s voice came through crystal clear. “Hey, Rook? It’s Whitehorse, copy.”

She reached for her radio, and grinned wryly. “Rook? Thought that promotion was a sure thing, sir.”

“It was, and damn if you haven’t run with it since, but you know how it goes with old habits. They’re hard to shake once you get used to them, and speaking of one, I thought I told you to drop the 'sir' bit. Makes me feel ten to fifteen years older every time.”

“Easier said than done, I’m afraid, sir-er, shit.” She let go of the call button and sighed deeply before picking back up. “Hey, uh, I hope you don’t think I’m just cutting out on you just when things are looking up. Tracey wanted me to look into something for her, so I might not be back for a few days or so.”

“If she’s got you on something, it’s important. We can hold down the fort as long as we need to, and better now that we don’t have the Angels bearing down on us.  Just remember to touch base every now and then.

“Or you’ll worry?”

“Damn straight, I’ll worry.” That knocked the silly grin right off of her face. “I’ll worry until this is over and done with, but until then, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

No promises, none at all. “I’ll try. Trying counts for something, right?”

“It’s always better than nothing. And I just wanted to tell you again, and it’s not worth much, but good work today. What you’re able to do right now, for here and for Fall’s End has meant a lot. Things aren’t going to improve for a while, but this is more than what we had yesterday. Keep it up, and we’ll even have something to celebrate.”

“Wouldn’t that be something?” An actual end to all of this, with Hudson and Pratt back with them safe and sound? If only. “Just don’t jinx me now. You can’t see me, but I’ve got both sets of fingers crossed.”

“I hear you, Rook. I hear you.”

“Still, wish me luck?”

He chuckled. “Sure, but don’t use it unless you have to, you hear?”

“Loud and clear. Dep out.”

----

Most of the trip to the trailer park was actually spent fighting with the radio. Five times she’d switched to the Peggie station to see if they’d changed it up. She loved Barracuda, but needed a break every now and then to stay sane and keep the song as fresh as it was going to get.

One of those times she’d even started whistling out of tune to what was playing, focusing more on the tune than the words at first. That ended the minute it shifted into a rousing chorus of ‘Oh, John! Bold and brave!’ on her. There wasn’t much to mess around with concerning the radio after that.

All in all, she was thinking she’d have to either get used to this fast, or see about asking Dutch if they could arrange a way to pirate another rock station nearby. Not that she needed the extra tunes, but if the Peggies were going to blare their shit at them as a means of warfare, turnabout was fair play. 

The road up ahead was a sharp curve, her angle of approach nearly making the wheels slip off of the side of the road. The steering wheel spun as she wrenched it to the right, and she felt the whole truck shift in response. The engine died soon after, sputtering as everything came to a halt.  

“Oh, please don’t do this to me now.” She twisted the key, listening for anything, but only heard the grinding of metal. The next few turns were the same, except she stomped down on the gas for all the good it did her. “Shit.”

The rest of the trip would have to be on foot. She grabbed her bag and hopped out, making sure to keep her rifle ready as she made her way up the road.

A loud sound carried over from the park. A whoop? She crouched down by the bushes and took her binoculars out. The green fire-breathing blur soon became a person. A person currently in the middle of trying to shake off one too many Angels bearing down on him. They soon ignited, however, lost in a blast of flames.

Tracey hadn’t been kidding at all. In the man’s hands appeared to be a flamethrower, and judging by the surrounding small fires springing up around him, he wasn’t shy about using it.

And was he…dancing?

“Oh, geez,” she muttered, quickly stashing the binoculars in the bag at her side so she could run on in.

Going for her rifle, she raised it when she was close enough to actually track one of the Peggies moving in on him, and fired. The shot appeared to hit. The fact that it did nothing, made her swear loudly. She fired again, this time not waiting for a reaction before unloading again, and didn’t relax until they hit the ground.

Not even that was a guaranteed drop, but she had to keep on moving. With three of the Angels remaining, one of which was well within range of clubbing him with their pipe, she tried to keep her shots clean. One mistake and she risked hitting him herself, and like hell was she going to let that happen.

When the last one finally fell, she lowered her weapon but kept it close as she traveled further into the park. She wasn’t exactly sure how the guy there was going to react to help, but when she got close enough to really get a look at him any and all concerns faded fast.

“Got some nice shots in there, chica!” Up on his perch on a nearby trailer, he smiled broadly at her as he removed his headphones. “Here for the barbeque?”

She gave him a quick once over, noting the soot-streaked green hoodie, the large fuel canister on his back, and the cheerful bounce to his step. “Uh, maybe?”

“Cause you can pull up a chair, and kick back ‘til I throw on some more tunes and the next herd of Angels come on by. Event’s BYOF, but I’m flexible.”

BYOF? “What?”

“Flamer, flame, fire, firestarter, firearm, firework. Any or all.” He patted the side of his flamethrower and waggled his eyebrows. “So, yeah. Real flexible.”

Hana stared up at him, half-tempted to lower her sunglasses as she eyed him, but settled for giving him a crooked smile. “Gotcha. So, I’m looking for someone actually, and I think I might have found him. Got a name, Mr. Pitmaster General?”

She climbed up the stack of crates next to the trailer, hopping up to grab the corrugated sheet metal of the roof after that to clear the last few feet so she wasn’t alone on the ground anymore.

“Name’s Charlemagne Victor Boshaw, Sharky for short, and welcome to my little piece of disco heaven.”

Charlemagne? That alone was one hell of a name to shoulder, before adding on the others, but this was her man. Ironically enough, hearing his name in full now finally rang a bell that should’ve gone off back at the prison.

The Sheriff had handed her a hefty stack of files back at the station a few days before it all went to hell. It contained notices of complaints and charges in the county courtesy of a few repeat offenders. Hurk Drubman had popped up, and just as often a Sharky Boshaw joined him.

Whitehorse had shaken his head when she’d asked what the deal was, and had only offered up two words. Serial boredom. Knuckleheads, he’d also muttered right after, and she flipped through more of Sharky’s file as soon as Whitehorse turned his back.

Forget complaints, the list could’ve been slapped on a bonafide wanted poster. Unauthorized use of explosives and accelerants. Illegal acquisition and modification of weapons. Noise complaints. Vandalism. Public indecency. Arson. Conspiracy to commit arson.

It was a fun little list to say the least. And the arson bit? Totally checked out.

She threw up her hand in a mock salute. “Deputy Hana Vao, at your service.”

“Dep…uty?”

“That’s right.”

Sharky’s grin froze as he looked first at her, then at the flamethrower in his hands, then her again. “Uh, yeah, I’d say there’s nothing to see here, but they fucking started it.” He cleared his throat. “Ma’am.”

“I don’t think they wandered over here only to fall over into your little makeshift mesquite firepit all on their own, Boshaw.” She took one look at his flamethrower and gave him a wry look. “That’s got frequent use written all over it, aside from well, you know. Taking in what I’m currently seeing here.”

He started checking out the flames roaring off of the nearby trailer to her right, following her pointing finger when it also lingered on the flames dancing on the edges of the drained swimming pool. The trail kept on going until she’d done nearly a full 360, and when she settled her finger on him, he shrugged.

“You might’ve heard about the last few charges down at the station, but arson’s kind of a strong word to throw around for what went down at the Testy Festy last year. And the year before that. And last month, but-”

Still whirling a bit from being called ma’am, her eyebrows drew together as she processed that statement in particular. “Testy Festy?”

“Hell, yeah. Gotta go balls to the wall for that one. Wouldn’t be a Festy otherwise. I might’ve gone on a bender leading up to it, but other than the hoe-downs, drinks, and some mighty fine pickings, it was missing something. Hurk agreed – he’s my cousin, and the best bro a Boshaw could have – and told me it’d be great to smash together a lightshow in its honor, and he was right. Homemade sparklers, a few hoosker doos and hoosker don’ts, and it was about to become the fucking Festy to end all Festies.”

“And?”

“We lit it up, and had it all under control, til the winds changed and uh, caught the barn on fire. And the house. And the fields and…the actual festival stands. Not real proud of that, but that dick burned so bright, I like to think even NASA floating up there got an eyeful.”

He finished his story with a grin, and she actually felt her mouth hang open a bit. “A dick?”

“Hell, yeah.” It wasn’t possible, but he grinned even wider. He was practically beaming.

This man set off a giant, flaming penis during what was referred to as the ‘Testy Festy’. The conversation with Whitehorse back at the station made so much more sense now. …Along with the charges.

“So, short of you cuffing me and bringing me down to the station, the jail, or wherever the po-po’s gathering now – and fuck that, you’ll have to run me down and hogtie me first - I figured I’d meander on up here to do a little community service. Spit in the eye of any of the Peggies that come knocking, and maybe melt some Angels’ faces off while I’m at it.”

“No, I’m not taking you anywhere, at least not anywhere you won’t want to go. I’m technically here on Cougars’ business, so any actual Deputy-ing will be kept to a minimum.”

She flashed the pin on her collar like she would’ve her badge, and he squinted at it as he considered it. “Sure you don’t just have like fifty guys waiting outside of the park to bring me in? Like hiding in the tall grass with the mossy suits and-”

“Scout’s honor,” she said, holding up a set of crossed fingers. “It’s a pretty hefty task I’m looking at, and going off of what others have told me, I think you might be the best around. What would you say is the largest thing you’ve ever blown up?”

Sharky glanced skyward as he thought it over, his face scrunching up as he scratched his goatee. “Largest? Might need Hurk for that, cause he’s the go big or go home type. We did send up Rae-Rae’s mascot ten years back, though. Not Boomer, cause that’s fucked up and he’s the sweetest dog around. Just the larger blimp-sized version of him.”

The mental image of that nearly threw her off again, but this time she recovered.

“How about a statue?” She turned, and held out both hands towards the statue of Joseph lurking in the distance. “How about that statue?”

“That one? You mean you want to…” Sharky’s eyes lit up, and his expression bordered on downright giddy as he looked between her and the statue in the distance. “Man, you want to shove a rocket up the Father’s ass? His statue’s ass, but still, it’s his ass, and I will make that dream a reality. Shit, might be better than having a chance at the real thing.”

“Anything you personally need to make this happen is yours, no questions asked. Extra gear, guns, uh…your buddy Hurk?”

“He’s further north up at his dad’s, but he’s in. You tell him even half of what you told me, and he’ll be begging for a proper shot at it. Might even give you fifty bucks to do it too.” He leaned towards her, and half-whispered, “And if he does, could you spot me thirty of that?”

While there weren’t flames currently coming out of the flamethrower, Hana did find herself eying it very carefully. “Uh, sure, man. Why?”

“He still owes me for the last time we got blasted over at the Spread Eagle, and every time I bring it up he claims to have had an out of body experience, and I don’t think we got zap-fried by aliens. Not that time, anyway.”

“Deal. Anything else?”

He walked over to three sets of foot pedals and a microphone, and rested his foot on one of the pedals before turning back to her.

“Yeah, shorty, one last thing. I promised anyone dropping by a barbeque, and we’re having one.” He pressed his foot down, and that’s when the speakers came on. “And it’s not a proper Peggie barbeque without this playing.”

The opening notes started, and she felt her mouth fall open. “No.”

Turns out disco didn’t actually die. It just decided to tuck itself into this tiny little corner of Montana, guided by one man set on letting that torch burn forever.

What happened over the next fifteen minutes was borderline surreal. To what quickly became apparent was a soundtrack consisting only of Disco Inferno – What the hell – they let every Angel that stepped foot into the place have it. He sang, he danced, he lit people on fire. The man was a living cartoon of a human being, and she was equal parts bewildered and fucking delighted.

Running laps around the trailer park, she took potshots at anyone that managed to make it past him. Sharky swept the stream of fire coming from his flamethrower in a wide arc, and even from the distance she told herself to keep, she felt the heat.  

“Good thing it’s not no-pants time right now!” he shouted over the mic, and she strained to hear him over the shots rattling out of her rifle. “Normally I’d say drop ‘em if you’ve got ‘em - this is a pants-free zone for any and all looking for one, and that counts you too –“

An Angel ran up on her, tacking her straight to the ground, and Sharky’s words somehow still came through clear as day.

“- but my dick’s hard right now and you don’t just flash that around a lady, not without asking first!”

She wrestled her rifle up, sending the butt of it into the Angel’s forehead as she shouted up at him, “Not helping, Boshaw! Not helping!”

It took three solid shots to stun them, and she scrambled out from under them just in time for Sharky’s help to arrive. He’d found a way down from his perch and let loose as soon as she was clear, though only by a hair. The flames roared as the Angel reared back, then fell, sliding back into the scorched pool.  

“You okay, chica?” he asked, looking worried. “Looked close!”

Sneaking in a few quick breaths, she rested her hands on her thighs and let her head hang low before raising it. “Yeah, just a little. Can you watch it with that thing? They’re not the only ones feeling the burn here!”

“Fuck! Sorry, man! Just got a little too-”

This time she definitely lowered her sunglasses to look at him. “Excited?”

That actually got her something bordering on a blush from the man as she glanced up at him, and he coughed before giving her a sheepish grin. “Uh, yeah. Kinda.”

“So, are we good on the whole Saturday Night Fever thing, or are you still feeling the need to shake it further?”

“The turnout was decent, got to stretch my legs and see if I could beat my old high score. Think I was short by three,” he replied, dancing his way back to the trailer with the controls. “But ol’ Joe’s calling, and we can roast more later.”

After climbing back up, he pressed down on the pedal he’d pressed before, looking plenty satisfied with their work. The music instead kept on going, starting a new verse as his foot kept on pressing down, each motion more frantic than the last.

“Uh, Dep? We’ve got a serious problem here!”

Her hand started digging through her pack, sifting through the mess inside for anything resembling a magazine. The fact that she was still searching as the seconds ticked by didn’t bode well at all. “That wouldn’t be a music-related problem, would it?”

“It’s…the pedal should cut the sound off for each set of speakers, but it’s fucking done, man! We’re going to have to go for them one by one!”

“How many?”

“Four!”

So much for disco heaven. They were careening straight into disco hell.

Aiming her attention towards the entrance, she swore loudly under her breath. As she shoved a new mag into her rifle, she started towards the nearest switch. It was tucked behind a fenced off area, leaving her searching for an opening as she fired at the Angels in her way. Once it was clear enough, she ran for it, flipping the switch.

“One down!”

She couldn’t see Sharky from where she was, searching for any signs of green as she went back into the clearing, and nearly collided with an Angel waiting for her. The large pipe whistled through the air as it came within inches of her face, each swing forcing her back towards the trailers.

“Second’s off, just two more left!”

Her heart pounded in her ears as she tried to look for a way to side-step around the Angel, only to catch a nearby shovel off to her right. It’d been shoved spade-first into the dirt, but was just within reach.

The rifle dropped to her side, the sling keeping it by her side as she dove for the shovel. Pulling it out of the ground, she barely put the shovel up between her and the Angel in time, holding them back as they snarled in her face.

Every sound, beat, and note meant another pissed off Angel. It was all too reminiscent of the jail, and she cursed their awful luck as she planted her foot in the Angel’s stomach to shove them back.

“Am I close to one?”

“Up the ladder, Dep!”

Ten feet ahead, then up the ladder. You can do this.

Hana swung the shovel, full-on thinking of hitting a home run as she did it, and it clanged on impact with the Angel’s face.

Go, go, go!

One tried to grab her leg as she pulled herself up the ladder, nearly wrenching her arm as she hooked it through the rungs. It wasn’t easy or pretty as she finagled her handgun out of her holster and fired blindly below, but the moment she had her leg back she scrambled to the top.

She yanked down hard on the switch, holding on tight, and waited.

“-disco inferno, burn baby burn-“

This process was going to ruin this song for her forever, and that was unacceptable. “Sharky!”

The music cut off abruptly, feedback coming through the speakers as it happened, then silence. Glorious silence. Her grip loosened, and she quickly tightened it to keep from falling off of the damn thing.

Casting her eyes down at the ground, two Angels lingered at the bottom of the ladder. Their dazed drifting had her watching them very carefully, and as she started to creep down rung by rung, she held her breath.

Don’t look up. Please, don’t look up.

She reached for one of her grenades and popped the pin. Letting go as she jumped, she aimed herself for any tall grass she could reach, knowing that at this height it was still going to hurt like hell.

Not as much as that grenade, however.

It went off right as she hit the ground, her messy roll sending her into a nearby crate. Swearing loudly, she stared over at the smoke-filled spot while flat on her back, and idly registered that her handgun had fallen somewhere off to the wayside.

But the Angels didn’t appear to even remotely exist anymore, so…best one out of two?

She’d take it.

“Yo, po-po! Where you at?”

She groaned and flipped over onto her stomach. Sharky called out for her again, and she pushed herself up so she could wave over at him.

The fire she’d freshly started continued to crackle as it burned, catching more of the dry grass around them as it made its way around the trailer park.

Hana flopped down in a nearby lawn chair, and watched it as the tension bled out, resting her rifle across her lap. She hadn’t even bothered to light the cigarette she’d dug out of her pack, keeping it dangling out of her mouth as she relaxed.

The grass crunched under Sharky’s feet as he ran over, somehow still a complete livewire after everything. “Way to bust some Peggie ass, Dep! You just scored yourself one bonafide Boshaw. One of a kind, limited edition,” he said, pounding his chest before firing off one last blast with his flamethrower.

The edge of it caught a nearby fence, quickly spreading to the trailer to his right. He scrambled away before it finally went, larges plumes of black smoke rising up before a small explosion tore through the rest of it.

When he came to a stop in front of her - not quite singed, but still kicking - he struck the same pose as before, only to take a few seconds to puff his chest out.

She took one last look at him before finally giving in, dissolving into a fit of laughter.

One of a kind indeed.

[lovemesomerafael]

Destroying The Planet To Save It  Chapter 9:  Captain America Has Clocked Out

Steve took Bucky’s advice and put on a fresh shirt.  In fact, he took a quick shower and then put on a fresh shirt.  He really shouldn’t have been so nervous, given what had happened between him and Sharon just the other day.  Then again, he thought, maybe that’s why he was so nervous. Things were different now.  

Sharon answered the door in a well-worn Case Western Reserve T-shirt and a soft-looking pair of flannel shorts.  Unlike Steve, she didn’t seem at all nervous, just happy to see him.  Maybe the slightest bit amused.  Something about the way she smiled at him, moving to the side to let him into her softly lit room, instantly calmed him.  

Steve looked around, noting the bedding thrown back, and the glasses and open book sitting face-down on the bedside table.  He stood uncertainly, running a hand through his hair.  

“This is so rude.  You were in bed…”

“Steve?”  Sharon smiled up at him from a foot away.  

“Huh?”

“I’m glad you’re here. I invited you, remember?  It’s OK.  C’mon.”  She tossed her head toward the bed and climbed in.  There was nothing sexual about the way she sat cross-legged with her back against the headboard and pulled the blankets up around her, making herself comfortable.  She held out a hand to him.  “Just come sit by me.  We can talk.”

“I’m a hopeless fossil, aren’t I?”

She actually laughed at that.  “It’s sweet. You’re sweet.  Don’t apologize for that.”

She looked so good sitting there, so comfortable and welcoming, that he sat down on the side of the bed, his thigh just touching her knees.  

“So.  What’s on your mind, Captain America?”

“Not much.  The safety of the world.  Somebody who can apparently create a damn tornado or a hurricane.  My best friend bein’ in a plane crash today.  That kinda thing.”  

“Hmmm.  Is that all.  Seems like you should be able to sleep like a baby, then.  What a wimp.”

Steve huffed a small laugh, and Sharon took his hand.  

“Bucky’s OK, right?”

“Bucky’s fine.  Staying at the hospital with Joss.”

“And she’s OK?”

“Stable.  She’ll be all right.  I talked to him a little while ago, she was sleeping.  Probably to keep him from yelling at her any more.  He said he was kinda hard on her for scaring him.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” she said, cocking an eyebrow and grinning.  He grinned back.

“President Burke called me. Wanted the Avengers to keep watch at the Capitol while Lattimore lies in state.”

“You didn’t agree to that, did you?”

“No.  There’s no reason.  S.H.I.E.L.D.’s gonna be there, and I don’t even think that’s necessary.”

“Agreed.  He take it OK?”

“Yeah.  He said he talked to you.”

“He did.  I think he’s under the impression that he can just order us to figure this out, and that’ll make it happen.”

“I think you’re right.”

Sharing quiet laughter with Sharon in the soft light, Steve relaxed a little more.  

“I talked to Dr. Banner earlier,” Sharon told him.  “They’re both moving toward answers.  They’ve hit the wall, though, so they’re gonna get some sleep.  I tried to check in with Stark, but he mumbled something about being in the zone and hung up on me.  I’m taking that as good news.”

“You should.  The closer he gets to figuring something out, the ruder he gets.”

Sharon looked like she was about to say something else about Tony, but let it go.  “And Sam and Anita Herrera?”

“Had a text from Sam. He said they were making progress, but that was all he said.”

“Yeah, about that.  Next time a mission requires someone to party at a villa in the tropics, do you think we could get assigned to that instead of plane crash and President detail?  Because I’m thinking there’s a definite fun disparity here.”

“I’ll see what I can do. I like the idea of you going all Mata Hari in a bikini.”

“Right?”  She laughed.

“Natasha called,” Steve said.  “They’re on their way back from Arias’s underground place, and she said they’re bringing a lot back.  We’re gonna be busy.”

“Well, then.  Sounds like there’s a lot of progress happening. I think maybe the world will be OK if you call it a day.”

“Well, that’s kind of the problem.  I don’t seem to know how to do that.  Just turn it off.”  He reached behind his neck with the hand that wasn’t holding hers and rubbed his tired shoulder muscles, rolling his head.  

Sharon cocked her head. “Hey.  I have an idea.”  

She scooted back and uncrossed her legs, rising to her knees, then knee-walked to a position behind him.  With sure hands, she pulled his shirt untucked from his jeans and lifted it. He obediently lifted his arms to let her pull it over his head, setting it beside him on the bed before gripping the muscles on either side of his neck and squeezing.

“Good God, Steve. There are statues with less tension in their shoulders.”  

He chuckled and hung his head, letting her work.  She seemed to know what she was doing.  Although she was grasping and kneading his muscles hard, it felt good.  She used her thumbs to press into his neck, working the muscles there until he groaned, turning his head to work out the kinks.  Then she moved to his upper back, using the heels of her hands and her elbow, digging at the knots there.  

“I can’t decide whether that hurts more than it feels good.”  

“Good.  Then I’m doing it right.”

A few moments later, Steve said, “I think Banner-“

“Nope,” Sharon interrupted him.  “You’re done for today.  Captain America’s clocked out.  You can talk about anything but work.”

“Seriously?”

“Absolutely.  My room, my rules.”

“Huh.  I’m learning a lot about you lately.  You have a definite bossy side.”

She chuckled and leaned in to kiss his cheek.  “Lucky for you.  Because you definitely need some bossing around, Steve Rogers.”

Sharon worked on kneading the tension from Steve’s neck and shoulders for another half hour, while they enjoyed a companionable silence, punctuated by occasional comments or quiet conversation.  When she decided he’d had enough, she stretched her legs out on either side of Steve’s hips and wrapped herself around him, enjoying the feel of his hard abdomen under her hands.  She placed her chin on his shoulder and squeezed him.  

“There.  That’s at least a little better.”

“That was great.  Thank you.  How do you know how to do that?  I know an expert when I, uh, feel one.”

“Took a class once, trying to impress an old boyfriend.”

“Did it work?”

“I’m sitting here with you, aren’t I?”

Steve smiled.  “Lucky for me.”

“Yeah.  Come to think of it, you are pretty damn lucky,” she agreed laughingly.

“Yes.  I am.  I feel like I owe you an apology, Sharon.  Bucky told me I treat you badly.”

“He did?  Why?”

“Because I…”  Even though they were sitting intimately together, with her legs wrapped around him and her chin on his shoulder, Steve felt like facing away from her gave him a little emotional safety to risk speaking this out loud.  He tried again.  “Because I’ve been acting like I don’t have feelings for you.  And it’s not true.”

Sharon didn’t say anything for a moment, just held him.  

“Well, then,” she finally whispered.  “You should probably kiss me or something.”

He turned his head and she stretched her neck to reach his lips with hers.  It was a ridiculously awkward position for attempting to kiss, and they both laughed before Steve turned his hips within the circle of her legs, lifting her closest leg to rest on his, which allowed him to pull her around his body until she was sitting on his lap, now facing him.  

“OK, I gotta admit, that’s fairly hot.”

“What is?”

“The way you can just lift me and move me around like it’s nothing.”

“Only fairly hot, huh?”

“Hmmm.  You’re right.  It’s actually hot as fuck.  Now, why don’t you tell me more about these feelings you have for me?”

Blushing a bit, Steve grinned mischievously.  “Like I told the President, you’re the brains around here.  I’m no good with words.  I’m more… physical.”

“Oh.”  Sharon breathed as Steve leaned toward her.  

He began by kissing her softly, tenderly, trying to show her what he felt.  He still wasn’t sure this was right; he still feared that he couldn’t give her what she needed and deserved.  But the very things that he liked about her – her intelligence, her independence, her capability – argued that he should trust her to know what she wanted.  She held a crucial role at S.H.I.E.L.D.  Which meant she knew exactly what his role was, and what his life was like.  He needed to stop second-guessing her.  

And he wanted to.  He wanted to let go, and just enjoy his feelings for this incredible woman.  Nurture them. And let her love him back.

Without consciously intending to, Steve had bunched her T-shirt in one hand and was stroking the bare skin of her back, feeling her lean into his hand.  Suddenly, he felt a hunger to feel more, much more, of her soft skin against his.  He pulled up on the wad of material in his hand, and Sharon instantly lifted up her arms, helping him as much as she could.  With her T-shirt no longer between them, Steve laid down and pulled her with him, so that she was straddling him and their chests crushed together.

His kisses were no longer gentle.  He buried his fingers in her hair, clutching a handful as he teased her tongue with his to make her moan softly in the way he was already starting to love.  Even though she was on top of him, he was entirely in control of the way they moved together, lifting his hips into her and pressing her to him.  He slid his hand under the waistband of her shorts to cup her bare ass, dragging her against him while he ravaged her mouth.

He needed to get his damn jeans off.  He was so hard, and grinding against her like that was only making it worse.  So he lowered his hand from her hair to her back and sat up, then stood with her in his arms and laid her on the bed.  She gasped as, almost in the same motion, he swept her shorts and panties down her legs and off.  She sat up to help him unfasten his jeans and tug them down his hips.  They were actually more in each other’s way than particularly coordinated about it, but both were far beyond thinking clearly. The second Steve had kicked free of his shoes and his jeans fell to the floor, he was poised above Sharon, kissing her as though they’d been apart for years.  She pulled him down onto her.

“I’m gonna crush you,” Steve objected.

“I don’t care, I want to feel your skin.  You feel so good.”

For a long time, they reveled in maximum skin contact and invasive kisses, communicating in murmurs and groans.  Eventually, Steve began to kiss down Sharon’s neck, taking in deep lungfuls of the sweet, flowery scent of her.  

“I swear, Sharon, I just wanted to see you,” he said between kisses.  “I didn’t expect anything.”

Steve could hear the smile in Sharon’s voice when she said, “You’re adorable, Steve.”

He wasn’t exactly sure what she meant by that, but at least it seemed like she was OK with what was happening.  Anyway, he quickly became distracted as he kissed his way down to her breasts which, he had learned to his enchantment, were very sensitive.  She squirmed as his lips approached her nipple, her moans making clear what she wanted.  He thought about slowing down, drawing out her anticipation, but he couldn’t.  He wanted his mouth on her as much as she did.  

She cried out as his tongue met the peak of her hard nipple, Steve moaning with pleasure at the same time. Her whole body arched and writhed.  She threw her head back, calling his name breathlessly.

“So damn beautiful,” he murmured between swirls of his tongue.  

He wondered...  Her reaction to his stroking, licking and nibbling at her breasts was so profound, he wondered just how much she felt.  So he let the fingers that were toying with one nipple slide down her chest to her stomach, past the carefully-manicured thatch of hair, and felt the hot slickness as he reached her lower lips.  She groaned, low in her chest.  He thought he might be right.

“You feel so good,” he murmured, sliding a fingertip between her lips, opening her folds.  “You’re so wet, does that mean you want me as much as I want you?”

“Oh, you have no idea how much I want you, Steve.  I…  You…  Oh, fuck!” She cried as he entered her with one finger, nibbling at her nipple just a bit harder now.  He used his thumb to lightly tease her clit as he fingered her, still pleasuring her breast with his lips and tongue.  She had already been rocking her pelvis against him, but now she began to fuck his finger with determination.  Her eyes were screwed closed and her mouth open, panting and moaning.  When he inserted a second finger, continuing to slide his thumb across her clit, he learned that he’d been right.  She cried out, pressing her breast up against his mouth and stiffening with the first spasms of a violent orgasm that rocked her entire body. It seemed to go on forever, making Steve feel spectacularly proud of himself.  He’d never seen a woman whose breasts were so sensitive that it took little more than stimulating them to make her come.  For some reason, he found that incredibly sexy.

Steve gave Sharon a few minutes after her body was done convulsing, just kissing randomly up her body until he reached her lips.  She pulled him down on her again, kissing him messily and hard.  “I want to make you come like that,” she practically growled. “Tell me what to do to make you come like that.”

“Trust me, I will.”

“No.  Tell me.  Tell me what you like.  Tell me what makes the top of your head blow off.”

“Well, I like, um…” He couldn’t make himself say it out loud, so he sat up, on his knees, and pulled her to a sitting position.  “Turn around,” he whispered throatily and, when she was on her knees facing away from him, put an arm around her waist.  

Then he pushed her thighs apart with his, so that she was straddling him backwards.  She groaned “Oh, fuck,” when she got the idea, and felt him lift up her hips and pull her against his chest.  She used her legs to help him lower her onto him, and cried out with the deep penetration.

“Are you OK?  Is this too much?”  He asked quickly.

“Oh, fuck, no,” she gasped, beginning to move on his cock.  “Holy -  Steve, this is…”

“I know.  Oh, fuck, you feel good,” he grunted, able to use his hands to fondle her breasts while she held on with one hand behind his neck and the other on his bicep.  “Sharon… Holy fuck…”

She set a fast, rough rhythm, using her thighs to lift herself, then letting herself fall onto him with all her weight, crying out each time.  He was close.  He didn’t know any position that let him bury himself as deeply, and it left her entire body exposed to his hands as she fucked him more and more fiercely.  And then she leaned forward onto her hands, still impaled on him and with her hips in his hands, which let him set the rhythm, pulling her onto him and thrusting up into her.  It took only a few thrusts before he was completely overwhelmed by a blast of pleasure that ripped a broken, inarticulate roar from him, wracking him with spasms of soul-deep sensation that left him utterly unable to form thoughts or words.  She’d said she wanted to make him come like she had, and he thought she might actually have overdelivered on that promise a little.  He pumped and bucked until he was completely spent, gasping for breath.  

When he recovered enough that he could, he raised up and scooped his arms under her, flopping down on his side with her curled up against the length of him.  

“That was…”  He buried his face in her hair.  “You’re incredible.  That was incredible.”

She chuckled sleepily against him.  “I’m very, very glad you came to see me.”

“Me, too.  And now you know how I feel about you.”

“Wow.  If that was you telling me how you feel, you really like me.”

“I really do.”

She turned in his arms then, so that she could face him and put her arms around him, too.  “I want you to stay here with me tonight.”

Steve just smiled and pulled him to her.

*****

After only a few hours of sleep, Bruce was already awake again, staring at his ceiling and planning the tests he would need to run once he got his core samples from Zambia.  He was surprised to hear a knock on his door, but he wasn’t surprised when Friday told him it was Catherine.  Of course, she would be awakened by her restless brain, too.  

As he rose, he discovered he had a massive headache, but he couldn’t regret the wine.  It had allowed him to have one of the most gratifying conversations he’d had in a long time.  Right up until he’d fucked the whole thing up by making a tactless, ham-handed pass at her. He was almost glad for his pounding head and the atrocious taste in his mouth, because it let him focus on something besides his shame.

As they rode to Catherine’s lab in the back of a taxi, sitting a careful distance apart, he was quiet even for Bruce.  She noticed.

“Are you OK?”  She asked, looking fully at him.  Her tone conveyed exactly what she was talking about.  They always had been able to read each other.

“I owe you an apology.  I’m sorry, and I’m embarrassed.”

“I’m not exactly sure which part you’re apologizing for,” she responded softly. “Are you sorry for feeling the same way I feel, or for being clear and honest about what you need in order to be OK?”

He closed his eyes and huffed a small sigh.  “You always did treat me better than I deserve.”

“And you always were a self-flagellating arse.  Apology unnecessary, but accepted.”

They shared a glance and a small, sad grin.

Once in Catherine’s lab, they worked diligently.  She began almost frantically entering data into her modeling system.  He called Phil Coulson, asking him to do whatever it took to get him the core samples he needed to test his theory about the earthquake.  Coulson, who enjoyed a challenge and kind of loved the idea that he could make pretty much anything happen when he needed to, assured Bruce he’d have the samples within forty-eight hours.  

By the end of the day, Bruce and Catherine were standing side by side, watching a recreation of the tornado that had hit Washington, D.C. with stunned, deeply concerned expressions.  So that’s how they’d done it.  And they could do it whenever, and wherever, they liked.

*****

Arias apparently had unlimited hot water at his villa, because Sam and Anita had been in the shower for a very long time.  He’d tried not to waken her as he slid out of bed, given that he’d only given her the chance to get about two hours of sleep.  So he’d been surprised when she’d come around the rough rock wall that separated the huge shower from the rest of the bathroom.  Her smile, though, told him immediately that she wasn’t sorry to be awake.  Her kisses reinforced the point.

“I think we should talk about what happened,” he said, forehead-to-forehead with her and holding her close.  “Since we don’t have an audience in here.”

A flicker of doubt crossed her face.  “OK.  Are you regretting it?”

“I don’t regret one second,” he answered, kissing her quickly to reassure her of that, at least.  “Ain’t gonna, unless you tell me that you do.”

“I absolutely do not.  In the cold light of day, I maybe feel a little awkward about the…  dramatics.  But I thought that would convince Arias of our cover, if they’re watching.  Maybe give me a little window to get close to him again.”

“I agree.  You were… very convincing.”

“The other part is, I wanted you.  I watched you all day, strutting around with that body, and charming everyone, and I wanted you.  And then, when we got back here and I started playing, and you were down…  Sam, that was the hottest thing that’s happened to me in a very long time.”

“Same here.  So… we’re good?”

“We’re so good.”

Which led, inevitably, to a lengthy interval where they didn’t talk much at all.

It wasn’t until they’d recovered their breaths and were soaping each other’s bodies and hair that they began to discuss their discoveries about Arias and formulate a plan for the day.

*****

Clint was outside doing yoga on the landing platform in the streaming sunshine when Natasha came out to join him.  She was cradling a huge cup of coffee that steamed in the cool air.  Although they smiled and nodded to one another, Clint didn’t stop his moves and Natasha simply leaned against the building and watched him for long enough that she finished most of her coffee before either of them spoke.

She loved everything about his body.  His sculpted arms and shoulders, hard from use and gleaming just a bit with the morning sun on the light patina of perspiration he’d worked up.  The masterful way he controlled every movement, strong and sure.  The well-defined muscles of his legs, balancing and supporting him in every position without any apparent effort.  

She hadn’t slept.  She couldn’t. All she could think about were his eyes as he’d held her and looked into hers.  The feel of his lips on hers, and his hands, heavy and possessive on her hips. How desperately she wanted him, and how good they were together.  

How wrong it was.

What had happened at the underground facility the night before had proved to Natasha, once again, that being here, together, was trying to hold back the tide.  Clint said a lot of sappy, poetic things about their being soulmates and belonging together, which she uniformly mocked because she needed them not to be true.  But they were.  In spite of everything she knew, everything she’d been taught by the Red Room and through bitter, bloody experience, she shared an unshakable bond with this man in front of her.  It made her weak.  It made her vulnerable.  She was deeply in love with Clint Barton and it drove her a little bit more insane every day.  All of which Clint knew as well as Natasha did.

Clint took a pose in which he was facing her.  As he held it, Natasha asked, “So, rounding to the nearest ten, how many times have you cursed my name since we said good night?”

“Zero, Tasha.  You know better than that.”

“I deserve it.  I should never have kissed you.  I let you think that things could be different.  I saw the look on your face when I went back to my own room.  I wouldn’t blame you for hating me.”

“I don’t hate you.  I’m a big boy, give me a little credit, would you?”

“Yeah, you’re right.  That wasn’t fair.   I suck at apologies.”

“You don’t owe me an apology.”  He changed position slightly.

“Yes, I do.  And I’m sorry.  Again. I keep telling myself that I’m a grown-ass woman who knows her own mind, that I’m capable of an adult friendship with you without getting all wrapped around the axle about… things.  But maybe that’s just another false identity.”  

“Stop it, all right?  Don’t punish yourself because I couldn’t keep my hands off you.  I understand what you need here, and I accept it.  We knew it would be hard staying here, staying friends. But we agreed it’s worth it because neither one of us could live with the alternative.  So sometimes we backslide.  The world keeps on spinning.”

Natasha just let that go.  What else could she do?  She drank the last few swallows of her coffee and tried for a businesslike tone as she said, “Cap called.  He wants a meeting here in three days.  Everybody there, ready to share what we’ve found.  We’re gonna need to go through everything we got, see what sense we can make of it.  Then we’ll need to meet with Bruce and Dr. Mulready, give them all the stuff on that machine.  I’ve already sent it to Tony, although he says he won’t be able to get to it for a while.”

“You’ve been busy this morning.”

“Couldn’t sleep.  Figured I might as well do some work.”

Clint stood from his last pose and picked up a towel lying nearby, using it to blot his face.  “Let me get a shower.  I’ll meet you in the conference room in half an hour.”

“Right,” Natasha said, holding her cup up to him in a halfhearted toast before disappearing back into the building. Clint stood looking at the door for a long time after she was gone.