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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor, 13 (Branjie) (and background everyone) - Ortega

a/n:guess who’s realised she never submitted this to AQ? it’s ya boi. if u haven’t been able to read this yet then here it is, and look out for the final chapter coming soon! thank u to everyone who’s ever sent this fic some love, it means the world to me!!

fic summary: Strictly Come Dancing enters its 18th series and its producers, after being goaded by a rival dance show on its inclusivity, commission it to be an all-female cast. Unlike Akeria who’s just here to bone her potential dance partner, dancer Vanessa is ready to act like a professional.

And then TV presenter Brooke Lynn walks into the rehearsal room.

***

6th December 2020

Vanessa’s in the wine aisle of Marks and Spencers when she sees her again.

Her hair’s been dyed- she already knew that, she’s seen pictures of it on her Insta feed- and the demure tones of the honey-brown balayage are a contrast to the blonde ombré she’d had when they’d been together, but it suits her. She’s in sweatpants and a cropped jumper, because of course she is, and Vanessa recognises the matching pink set emblazoned with the Playboy logo from Missguided adverts on bus shelters. She’s wearing some form of chunky white trainers and Vanessa isn’t proud of the fact that she feels a little flame of satisfaction light up in her gut when she sees that they’re splattered with mud, contrasting with her clean outfit and perfect makeup.

Vanessa turns back to the green bottles in front of her, staring at them for so long and with such intensity that she thinks she might rip the fabric of reality in two. She consciously blocks out her peripheral vision so that all she can see is the label of one bottle of white which she reads over and over again. A light, dry white with citrus notes and lively green fruit flavours. Grown in the spectacular setting of the sun ripened vineyards of central Spain. Goes with fish, chicken and salads.

She doesn’t, in any way, shape or form, know how to play this situation, because this is the first time she’s seen Kameron in person since they decided to call it quits. One one hand she could just keep staring at the wine bottle, attempt to blend into the shelves via osmosis and completely avoid her ex, but on the other hand…Vanessa doesn’t really know what the other hand is, because she doesn’t know what a conversation between the two of them would look like. There’s a part of her that wants to find out.

And suddenly, with a cry that Vanessa recognises as hers, the decision is made for her.

“Vanjie?”

Slowly, timidly, Vanessa turns around to meet her eyes. Soft, brown eyes that Vanessa had once looked into and seen her whole world and future.

God, it’s fucking crazy how she used to be so in love with her and now she feels completely apathetic.

“Kam! Hey,” Vanessa smiles tightly, waving awkwardly with the hand she’s not holding her shopping basket with. “How are you?”

“I’m fine! Well, actually, not amazing. I tried to make this really fancy, complex coq au vin for dinner last night but I don’t know what the hell I did wrong because it tasted like fucking ass. So I’m here getting ingredients again because Mama didn’t raise a quitter. It’ll probably still taste like garbage though, you know what I’m like,” Kameron reels off, which makes Vanessa smile in spite of herself. Kam was never the best at cooking and it was usually Vanessa who made the dinners when they were together, but there were still a couple of times when she’d tried at something and had failed spectacularly. Kameron seems to pick up on what she’d said as a little look of discomfort flashes in her eyes before she follows her sentence up with, “How’re you? God, it’s been ages.”

“It has,” Vanessa shrugged a little. So much has changed since they’ve last spoken that Vanessa isn’t really sure where to start. “I’m good. Things are pretty great, really. Obviously had a good run on the show for my first year competing, so hopefully I’ll get a partner next year too an’ win it next time.”

“I know, you did so well! I was really shocked you didn’t make the semis at least,” Kameron frowns, and the flattery does admittedly soften Vanessa up a little. Kameron’s face lights up as she adds, “God, your girl was so amazing though too! Brooke Lynn Hytes, right? She was super talented. Now I know how good a dancer she is I can’t help but feel like she’s sort of wasted as a presenter.”

“Yeah, she’s incredible,” Vanessa nods emphatically, unable to help the heat she feels spreading to her cheeks whenever she gets to talk about Brooke with somebody. Kameron’s expression changes a little as she clocks Vanessa’s blush, and a cheeky glint appears in her eye. Vanessa frowns. “Hey. Behave.”

“I didn’t say a word!” Kameron laughs, and as she trails off there’s a smile on her face that’s affectionate and helps Vanessa warm up to her ex even more. “Listen, what’re your plans? I’d honestly love to catch up. It’s been too long.”

Vanessa tilts her head in thought. The conversation isn’t going too badly, and her only plans are going round to Brooke’s later on to watch the semi-final results and have dinner (hence the reason she’s gone to M&S to get wine and not the Tesco Metro round the corner from her). So Vanessa surprises herself when she shrugs, giving Kameron a little nod. “Okay, yeah. Lemme get this wine and then we can get coffee.”

The way Kameron’s face lights up makes Vanessa think that her decision was the correct one.

They’re sat at a little table at the window of a nondescript coffee shop roughly ten minutes later, Kameron stirring the hell out of a vanilla latte that’s sat in front of her and creating a tiny whirlpool in the coffee that puts Vanessa in mind of a Pirates of the Carribean movie. Kameron’s talking about the flat she’s in just now- she bought it after she rented for a while when she moved out of Vanessa’s place- and how furniture is so expensive.

“I mean I could just go to IKEA and just furnish the entire thing for, like, two grand, but I actually want some really nice stuff, you know? Like it’s a big girl professional flat, not a uni rental,” she screws her face up as she finally takes a sip. Vanessa bristles a little opposite her- she knows Kam doesn’t mean it, but Vanessa wants to remind her that most of her furniture is from IKEA, because they’d gone and bought it all together when they first moved in. Kameron doesn’t seem affected, though, and keeps talking. “What about you? You still living out at Finsbury Park?”

Vanessa nods. “I’m still in the same flat, I never moved.”

A look of shock passes over Kameron’s face and Vanessa can read her like a book- the fact she’s still in that flat where they made so many memories together is obviously surprising. Vanessa can’t help but laugh. “Kameron, chill. You don’t roam the fuckin’ halls like a ghost, I don’t burst into tears whenever I go into a room. It’s a decent flat at a decent price, I wanted to keep it.”

“Right. Sorry. Ego check,” Kameron smiles sheepishly, and Vanessa feels bad for poking fun at her. Kameron perks up after a second, laughs a little. “I like how you said ‘halls’ plural. Like it’s a stately home and not a fucking matchbox with an intercom system.”

Vanessa’s taking a sip of her own hot chocolate and she almost chokes on it in a laugh, Kameron howling and slapping the table in response. Vanessa’s forgotten that Kam used to make her laugh, still can. She always used to see it like some sort of secret privilege she had access to, the quiet girl’s funny side rare and only popping out on special occasions. That hasn’t changed over the years.

“How’s work, anyway?” Vanessa asks her as she composes herself. Kameron shrugs easily.

“Pretty good. I did a Dua Lipa music video the other week, that should be coming out in a month or so.”

“Is she actually as bad a dancer as that video made her out to be?”

Kameron smirks. “She had a shit choreographer; she’s actually alright. Not pop girl standard, but you know. My agent’s trying to get me on the Blackpink tour next, so I should hear back from that soon.”

Vanessa’s glad that work hasn’t dried up for Kameron- the backing dancer industry is treating her well.

“Anyway,” Kameron bats her lashes, looking at Vanessa coyly from behind her glass. “Tell me more about this dance partner of yours, miss.”

Vanessa feels herself blush, a bashful laugh escaping her lips before she can stop it. It’s weird- after they first broke up Vanessa always used to think she’d love the chance to rub her ex’s face in a new relationship, but it feels ever so slightly odd now she’s actually about to talk about Brooke in front of her. “Honestly, we’re just seeing each other and keeping things casual. Y’know, while the series is still goin’. We’re not even official or public.”

“Yet,” Kameron smiles cheekily at her, and Vanessa can’t suppress the smile she returns to her.

“Okay, yet. But it’s going really well. I really like her. She’s sweet, an’ she’s caring, an’ she’s the best listener.”

“And she won’t be a fucking idiot and cheat on you.”

“No, I don’t think she will,” Vanessa shrugs, the fact that Kameron’s brought the situation up casting a small grey cloud over the conversation. It’s clunky and awkward, a puzzle piece jammed in a place it shouldn’t be. It’s been brought up now though, so Vanessa grimaces and adds, “But then I never thought you would, either.”

Kameron’s face screws up in regret, and before Vanessa knows it she’s rested a hand on top of hers and is giving her a tentative smile. “I know I said it about twenty million times when we were together but I’m honestly so sorry, Vanessa. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Kam, you gotta stop beatin’ yourself up about it,” Vanessa cuts in and says swiftly. Her own words shock her; they’ve come from virtually nowhere, and she’s amazed at the raw sympathy she’s just shown her. “You were drunk, it was a kiss. Strictly is…it’s a weird show. You saw him more hours in the day than you saw me. Kisses between partners happen all the time, it just…sucks that it happened between you two.”

Kameron nods quietly, and Vanessa puts her other hand on top of hers. “I forgive you. Give yourself a break.”

Kameron squeezes her hand, shoots her a soft smile. “Thanks, Vanjie.”

They let go of each other’s hands and each take a sip of their own drink, the silence between them somewhat symbolic like someone wiping words off a whiteboard. Vanessa watches as Kameron swallows a gulp of her coffee and grins. “Hey, do me a solid and put in a good word with Asia O’Hara for me, okay? I really want to slide into her DMs but I need some context first.”

“Your face can be the context, fuckin’ look in a mirror,” Vanessa snorts, and the two of them laugh together.

It’s nice. This huge, big, massive event she’s built up in her head for all these months is happening- she’s bumped into Kameron and she’s speaking to her. She doesn’t need to build it up anymore, or wonder about how it would play out because she’s living it, it’s playing out and she never has to see Kameron for the first time since they broke up ever again. A wall crumbles down in her mind without warning and once the dust settles she realises that she feels somewhat lighter.

Vanessa has been carrying this burden around with her for all this time without even having known it.

The pair of them eventually finish up- hug goodbye outside the coffee shop and tell each other how nice this all had been and then go their separate ways. They don’t promise to keep in touch, but Vanessa knows they’ll probably like each others’ Instagram posts or occasionally tweet each other support or that kind of thing now. Little things that remind them they’re still on good terms.

As Vanessa heads to the tube, her mind drifts to Brooke and how excited she is to see her. The week has been long and Brooke’s been busy, but true to her word she’s messaged Vanessa whenever she’s had a spare moment, updating her on her day and asking her about her own. On Tuesday she’d invited Vanessa round to her flat on Sunday night as she has a day off on Monday and they can spend the night together. She’s not just abandoned her or left her hanging, and if there’s about to be a gap between her messages she always pre-warns her. Brooke’s treating her well. Almost like a girlfriend. Exactly like a girlfriend.

Vanessa still doesn’t know what they really are. She’s so far told herself that that’s alright, but now they’re out of the competition that answer isn’t really satisfying her any more. She wants to call Brooke hers, she wants to be with her properly. As Brooke’s apartment building comes into view, Vanessa wonders if she’ll bring it up tonight.

As she buzzes Brooke’s intercom, though, Brooke’s tone throws everything into a tailspin.

“Hello?”

Vanessa frowns. Brooke sounds ever-so-slightly icy and fed up. She wonders if she’s imagined it. “Uh, hey! It’s Vanessa.”

“Hey. Come up.”

As the door buzzes open and Vanessa steps into the building, she waves away the thoughts in her head. She’s probably overthinking things, and as she steps into the elevator and lets herself be carried up to Brooke’s 12th floor apartment Vanessa tries to calm her nerves. It’s the first time she’s been to Brooke’s flat- in fact it’s the first time either of them have been at either of their flats- so she’s a little anxious. It’s another layer of the relationship they’re adding on, and the thought of things getting a little more serious makes Vanessa’s heart flutter.

So her head is thrown into a tailspin when the elevator doors open onto a landing and she’s met with three doors- two closed, and the other (Brooke’s, a little gold 111 set into the smooth grey exterior) is ever so slightly ajar. Vanessa narrows her eyes, tentatively stepping out of the lift, crossing the hall, and pushing the door open a little.

“Brooke Lynn?”

Brooke’s voice replies, still something to it that Vanessa can’t quite work out. “I’m in here.”

Frowning, Vanessa steps through the doorway and into Brooke’s flat. The whole situation is so strange that she can barely take in everything she sees; a long, narrow hallway lined with high heels that leads down to what looks like a sunken living room with a cream sofa and a floor-to-ceiling view of London. There’s a room to the right halfway down the hall, though, and it seems to be where Brooke’s voice came from, so Vanessa closes the front door and hears the click of the lock behind her as she follows it. Maybe she’s in the middle of something. Maybe she’s just busy and she wants Vanessa’s company while she finishes whatever it is she’s doing.

And then, as Vanessa turns into the room, the situation becomes immediately apparent.

Brooke’s bedroom is dark- the blinds are drawn and the only light comes from a few candles that are sitting on the tidy grey dressing-table under the window and the soft pink salt lamp that sits on the bedside table. The large bed pushed up against the wall takes up most of the room, and its sheets are white and perfectly ironed and crease-free.

They serve as a perfect backdrop to the sight that’s currently greeting Vanessa- Brooke, in a matching set of black Calvin Klein underwear, curled up against the pillows and scrolling her phone. The dark material makes Brooke’s pale skin pop, and the sight of her toned thighs and stomach forces Vanessa to squeeze her thighs together in spite of herself. Brooke looks up as she enters the room and smiles smugly, clearly happy to get the reaction Vanessa’s given her.

“Hey, sweetie,” she says, her voice light and sing-song and making the entire situation worse because the fact she’s so perfectly put-together while Vanessa is slowly becoming a melting, gooey mess in front of her is, for some reason, only making her want to rip Brooke’s clothes off even more than she already does. “Come sit.”

She gently pats the space on the bed next to her and Vanessa almost knocks herself out kicking her trainers off and letting her jacket fall to the floor as she scrambles up onto the bed. She feels herself blush as Brooke gives a soft laugh (presumably in response to just how eager she is) then decides she doesn’t really care how she’s coming across as Brooke leans in and closes the gap between them, kisses her with soft Chapstick lips that Vanessa feels as if she’s addicted to. Vanessa expects the kiss to be more than it is- flames of seductive fire that make one thing lead to another all too quickly- but instead it feels as if Brooke is deliberately holding back, teasing her a little. It’s not helping Vanessa’s desperation at all, and just as she brings a hand up to rest on Brooke’s hip, Brooke breaks the kiss.

“So,” Brooke begins cryptically, as she reaches for her phone where she’d discarded it against the sheets. “I was just scrolling Instagram, you know, as you do. And, uh, I felt a little bit confused.”

Vanessa frowns in tandem with Brooke, who finally appears to reach the post she’s been looking for. Brooke’s voice keeps its light tone as she continues. “Because apparently, according to these photos…it looks like you had a cute little reunion date with your ex today?”

Vanessa’s heart drops as Brooke turns her phone to show her the long-lens photograph posted by The Sun’s Instagram account. It’s her and Kameron at the coffee shop window, taken at the exact moment that Kameron had reached out and taken her hand and Vanessa had shot her a forgiving smile and taken hers in return, probably the most affection they’ve shown each other in a whole year.

But Jesus Christ, has it been taken out of context and then some.

She’s panicking, and she can feel her mouth opening and closing rapidly as she attempts to explain herself. The one saving grace about the whole situation is that Brooke appears to be…calm? Relaxed? She’s not flown off the handle, anyway, which Vanessa wouldn’t exactly have expected, and there’s also the fact she’s in a matching underwear set so clearly can’t be that mad at her. So Vanessa finally finds her voice, tells Brooke everything- how she’d only bumped into Kameron in the shop, and how it was just a coffee and nothing more, and how she’d actually finally received closure for everything that had happened between the two of them.

As she speaks, part of Vanessa wants to bring up the fact that she and Brooke aren’t even together together, so why Brooke’s so pressed about all of this Vanessa doesn’t know.

Unless Brooke wants them to be more than what they already are. And Vanessa has fucked it.

Shit.

“It’s just all a massive misunderstandin’, honestly,” Vanessa finishes, and she’s relaxing a little more now that Brooke’s body language is warmer. “I maybe should’ve texted you but I was gonna tell you tonight anyway, I promise. I wouldn’t…I just wouldn’t mess you about like that, Brooke.”

Brooke slowly lets a bashful smile creep across her face as she nods softly. “Okay.”

And, just because she can, Vanessa pulls her in for another kiss. This time there’s a little more heat to it which makes Vanessa’s stomach flutter in anticipation, but she still feels as if Brooke’s holding back. It’s only then that Vanessa remembers how Brooke had told her she liked being in control, how much Brooke got off on hearing her beg for what she wanted the first time they’d slept together, and it all falls into place.

Oh.

Before Vanessa can say anything, Brooke’s trailing her hand from its position cupping Vanessa’s jaw down her body to rest on her waist, and Vanessa’s mouth goes ever-so-slightly dry. Brooke’s face is still close as she speaks again. “See I thought that would be the case, because I know you’d never do anything to hurt me.”

Vanessa responds by mirroring Brooke’s touches, resting her own hand against her exposed thigh and delighting as she watches something darken behind Brooke’s eyes. Her tone changes a little as she continues. “But it did get me thinking…what if you did forget how good you had it one day?”

“Won’t happen,” Vanessa shakes her head, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth as Brooke pushes up the hem of her oversized white t-shirt, rests the palm of her hand against the bare skin at her waist. Vanessa squeezes her legs together again and she watches as Brooke flicks her gaze down, suppresses a smirk badly.

“It won’t?” Brooke pouts mockingly, and Vanessa loves it. “Well, just in case…I thought I’d show you what you’d miss if you ever did think you could do better than me.”

“Fuck,” Vanessa verbalises what she’s thinking in a hiss, as Brooke tugs at the bottom of her top and removes it quickly without Vanessa having to do anything other than raise her hands above her head.

Brooke dips her down so that her head’s resting against the pillows and presses kisses to Vanessa’s jaw, neck, collarbone, right down to the lace of her bra. Vanessa’s pulse is racing and she finds herself already spreading her legs, unable to help the way she needs Brooke to touch her.

“God, you’re so needy,” Brooke tuts disapprovingly into her skin, briefly reaching her hands under Vanessa’s back in an attempt to unhook her bra. Vanessa’s stomach tenses as she lifts herself off the mattress to help her, and soon the bra that she spent entirely too long picking out this morning is thrown halfway across the room onto the dark wood of Brooke’s bedroom floor.

“Says the girl that’s trying to get my boobs out in the first two minutes of foreplay- ah!” Vanessa cuts herself off as Brooke sucks a hickey into her collarbone. If she wanted to get Vanessa to shut up she’s succeeded, and so Vanessa instead focuses her attention on trailing her nails up and down Brooke’s back, delighting in the way the other girl shivers gently at the contact.

Brooke brings her lips up to meet Vanessa’s and she licks gently into her mouth as she strokes her thumb over one of her nipples, the contact making Vanessa flinch against the bed in the best kind of way. Vanessa trails a hand up Brooke’s back and pushes her fingers into her hair, and when Brooke breaks away her stomach flips at the way it’s all messed up and imperfect. Paired with Brooke’s blown pupils and plush lips, it’s a sight that makes Vanessa buck gently into the air almost without realising.

“Jesus. It really doesn’t take much, does it?” Brooke laughs gently as she loops a finger under the waistband of her leggings, and Vanessa shakes her head and pouts self-indulgently.

“Brooke…” she begins, then trails off when she doesn’t actually realise what she wants to say. She’s very happy to let her be in charge if this is what happens as a result, and when Brooke moves to straddle her it renders her twice as speechless as she was before.

“If this is you now, I’m almost scared for how you’re going to react when you see what I’m planning on doing to you,” Brooke says softly, the fake concern to her voice sending shockwaves rippling through Vanessa’s body. Before she can respond Vanessa gasps as Brooke pulls off her leggings, leaving her in the red thong she’d agonised over and the white ankle socks she’d put entirely less thought into. Brooke is left kneeling between Vanessa’s spread legs; dark heavy-lidded eyes, mouth hanging ever-so-slightly open. When she speaks, her voice is ragged.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” she says, and maybe it’s the simplicity of it but Brooke’s words make Vanessa feel completely naked despite what she’s still wearing.

“You’re beautiful,” Vanessa breathes out in an instant reply.

Brooke pouts and trails one of her short acrylics up Vanessa’s inner thigh, ripping a whine from her. “You sure Kameron isn’t more beautiful?”

“Jesus,” Vanessa throws her head back against the pillow and lets out a breathy laugh. “I didn’t have you down as the jealous type at all.”

When she tilts her head up Brooke’s got an unimpressed eyebrow raised at her. “You’re already in trouble, this isn’t helping your case.”

Vanessa can’t resist the urge to tease her and so she sticks her tongue out in response. “Oh what, you gonna punish me? You gonna tie me to the bed an’ spank me?”

Brooke’s gaze darkens. There’s a pause as she crawls up the bed, hovers over Vanessa with her face close. Vanessa keeps her own eyes sparkling as she stays still, challenging her to see if she’ll crack even though she wants to grab her jaw and kiss her with the same intensity they’d shown each other earlier.

“Brooke Lynn’s jeal-ous,” she sing-songs right in her face, and when Brooke pulls back she’s wearing a dark expression. Vanessa brings her hands up to rest on Brooke’s waist, traces the outline of her waistband.

And when Brooke leans over to the top drawer of her bedside table, Vanessa’s eyes widen as she instantly realises what she means.

She produces a wireless pink wand vibrator, and Vanessa’s body hotwires.

“Fuck.”

“Mm-hm,” Brooke murmurs, lips quirking in a smile. “You’re going to get punished for the stunt you decided to pull today.”

“Oh no, I hate orgasms! What a terrible punishment,” Vanessa smiles back at her, sarcastic and indulgent.

“Who says you’re going to be allowed to have any?” Brooke frowns.

Vanessa instantly realises her mistake.

“Wait…but-”

“Yeah. I’d suggest you better start being extra nice to me,” Brooke interrupts her, resting the wand down on the bed beside one of Vanessa’s thighs and hooking her fingers around the waistband of her underwear to tug it off. While this is happening Vanessa shuffles against the sheets in anticipation, something curling tightly in the pit of her stomach and the throbbing between her legs becoming impossible to ignore. She wants so badly to be touched, wants Brooke to feel how wet she is and for her eyes to go all wide when she realises she’s the one that’s got her this worked up, but instead of her fingers or her tongue she’s using that stupid fucking vibrator and she’s not even going to be allowed to come.

Fuck.

“Please, Brooke Lynn,” Vanessa pouts, letting a hand trail up Brooke’s thigh from where she’s positioned herself between her legs.

Brooke gives a short laugh. “You think you’re begging me now, wait until I get started.”

“Promise I’ll be good for you,” Vanessa insists, the end of her sentence almost getting cut off with a gasp as Brooke presses the wand against her. It’s not even switched on yet but it’s something that Vanessa can grind against, and she bucks her hips gently against the head.

“If you want me to turn it on you better keep those hips still,” Brooke says quickly, and Vanessa groans in resignation, lies still like she’s been asked.

She’s rewarded with a soft hum and a gentle buzz against her slit, and she can’t help the moan of satisfaction she gives in response as Brooke holds the wand there for a few moments, letting Vanessa get used to it. After so much build-up it feels like heaven, and the feeling leaves Vanessa wondering how long she’s going to last.

Brooke starts to swipe the wand up and down against her; lazy, slow motions that leave Vanessa squirming against the mattress every time she feels the vibrations brush against her clit. It’s not helping that Vanessa can see Brooke’s own chest rising and falling increasingly quickly, her pink, flushed cheeks, her hair all unkempt from Vanessa running her fingers through it.

“This good, babe?” Brooke asks, her tone ragged and her voice hoarse. When she snaps her gaze up to meet Vanessa’s eyes her pupils are blown and black and it sends an arrow through Vanessa’s heart that instantly shatters it as if it’s a piñata full of confetti.

“Mm,” is all Vanessa can manage, along with a rapid nod against the pillow.

“Not quite hearing a yes or a no there,” Brooke raises an eyebrow. “Maybe I should just turn it off-”

“No, no, no, no! It’s good, it’s good, fuck, yes, please don’t stop,” Vanessa instantly reels off as if it’s a frantic prayer. Brooke’s probably the closest thing to religion she’s experienced in months.

“You sure? You sure Kameron wouldn’t do it better?” Brooke says teasingly, wiggling the vibrator against her clit as if to make a point and sending Vanessa into the stratosphere.

“No, I promise, I promise, babe, please, please, please,” she whines. She can hear herself pleading and she hopes it’ll help Brooke come round to the idea of letting her orgasm because if Brooke ups the setting on her wand then there’s no way she’s going to be able to exercise any form of restraint.

Brooke switches back to slowly sliding the vibrator against her, and Vanessa can feel Brooke’s grip on her thigh tighten.

“Fuck, I can see how wet you are from here.”

Vanessa feels herself throb, her body responding to Brooke’s words before she can. She fists both her her hands into the sheets, can’t see her knuckles but knows they’ve gone white. “You wanna taste me so bad.”

“So much,” Brooke pouts, nodding slowly. “But…you need to lie there and take your punishment.”

“Fuck. I miss when you were too shy to talk during sex,” Vanessa huffs, grumpy, and she’s immediately stopped from saying any more as the wand buzzes that little bit more intensely against her. Brooke brings it back up to her clit, rubs it in slow, small circles that drive Vanessa wild and render her almost incapable of thought.

“Sounds like you’re the one who can’t talk during sex,” Brooke deadpans, squeezing Vanessa’s thigh to punctuate her point.

She can feel how slick the wand is against her, only illustrating how wet she is. The hum of the vibrator and the gasps Vanessa can hear herself making are heightening her senses; it’s too much and not enough all at once. Both Brooke’s teasing and the sensation of the wand vibrating against her is making Vanessa’s inevitable orgasm build inside her, and it’s only a matter of time before she hits boiling point.

“Brooke- ah!- please…don’t know how much longer I’m gonna last…”

“Oh, no way,” Brooke says darkly, and in an instant the vibrator is off and Vanessa’s back is arching off the bed in frustration as she cries out in disappointment. “You don’t get to come yet, babe, not after the sass you just gave me.”

Vanessa instantly regrets opening her stupid mouth and teasing Brooke more than anything she’s ever regretted before in her life. She whines, reaches her hips up into the air as if she’s going to generate friction from nowhere, and Brooke’s pouting in mock-sympathy. Vanessa knows she could just spring up from her position against the bed, grab Brooke’s face and kiss her and pin her down and take the control back, but there’s part of her that knows how unbelievably satisfying it’s going to be when she does get to come if she’s this worked up already.

Brooke’s watching her with heavy-lidded eyes as she traces up her leg then fans her fingers out over her inner thigh and rubs her thumb against her clit. The contact makes Vanessa’s eyes almost roll into the back of her head; the wand has heightened her sensitivity and she’s by now so slick and wet from all of Brooke’s teasing that with every little rub of her thumb Vanessa can feel the fire between her thighs become completely out of control.

“God, you have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do this to you every fucking day since Blackpool,” Brooke bites her lip, and Vanessa bucks against her thumb helplessly. “We’d be having to rehearse but all I wanted to do was just to make you beg for it again and again, fuck.”

“Should’ve told me.”

“Mm. I almost texted you about it. One of the nights I was lying in bed fucking myself with my fingers and remembering how good yours felt…remembering how you felt like fucking heaven underneath me…I could’ve sent you so many pictures that night…”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ you need to stop talking or I’m gonna come,” Vanessa squeezes her eyes shut. Brooke’s still teasing her clit and Vanessa knows she’s deliberately applying just not quite enough pressure. She’s so on edge and it feels like the most incredible form of torture.

“You want the wand back, sweetie?”

“Please, fuck, yes,” Vanessa begs, almost wanting to sob. When Brooke’s thumb gets replaced by the vibrating head of the wand she feels lightheaded, lets out a cry that she instantly knows Brooke’s neighbours will hear but she doesn’t care. Brooke’s teasing her badly, holding the wand against her, taking it away for a second, then replacing it, and Vanessa feels so sorry for herself that she starts pleading with her.

“Keep it on me, please,” she gasps out, and when she looks up at Brooke she’s smiling at her wickedly.

“Like this?”

Brooke ups the intensity the moment she makes contact and Vanessa can practically feel herself give a little gush against the wand. Her breath is coming in shallow gasps now, and she’s only just registering the fact that Brooke’s got her hand that isn’t holding the wand down under the waistband of her own underwear, playing with herself. There’s a light sheen of sweat against her chest that’s making her glow like an angel and the way her chest is rising and falling is mirroring Vanessa’s.

Vanessa now realises why people yell out declarations of love right in the middle of their orgasm.

“Why don’t you tell me how much you like it?” Brooke murmurs. Vanessa can see her bucking against her fingers and the sight makes her press herself down against the wand, the way the vibrations roll over her clit in waves making her want to scream.

“So much…so fucking much…”

“Anyone else gonna fuck you like me?”

“No, baby, no-one else, just you, fuck, only you,” Vanessa whimpers. She looks up at Brooke and the sight of her eyes closed in ecstasy, grinding against her fingers and her nipples hard through the fabric of her bra is enough to tip Vanessa on a very gradual decline over the edge. “Fuck, can I come, please?”

“Yes, babe, you can come.”

When Vanessa feels her clit sieze up then pulse frantically against the vibrations of the wand, she shouts out into the bedroom, the pace of her fuck, fuck, fuck in sync with the waves of her orgasm flooding through her body. Brooke holds the wand against her until she’s sure she’s finished and Vanessa can only lie against the mattress, completely worn out and exhausted, as she watches Brooke take the wand and hold it between her own legs, the thin material of her underwear dark between her legs as Vanessa realises just how wet Brooke must be as well.

And even though Vanessa’s too worn out to help her out in the way she wants to, it doesn’t stop her from sliding a lazy hand up her thigh. She takes a couple of shallow breaths before pouting up at Brooke.

“Aww. Did watching me get you too worked up, baby?”

“Mm-hm,” Brooke hums in reply, running her tongue over her bottom lip as she squeezes her eyes shut. It gives her an idea.

“Not used my mouth on you yet. Bet you wish I was doin’ it now.”

“Fuck, Vanessa, keep talking.”

“You don’t get to boss me around any more, princess. Keep talking what?”

Brooke’s face contorts into a frown as she ruts against the wand, eyes still closed. “Keep talking please.”

“Good girl,” Vanessa purrs, and she almost feels as if she could go for round two as she hears the way Brooke gasps in delight at the praise. “You want me to tell you how much I want to put my tongue between your legs and taste you and watch you come apart under me?”

“Ah…”

“Maybe you don’t want that, though. Maybe you want to sit on my face instead. Ride my tongue and shut me up so I can’t talk back to you and drip all over my face all dirty while I just lie there and take it like a good girl.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Brooke hisses out. Vanessa’s surprising herself with what’s coming out of her mouth and how absolutely filthy it all is but she’s going with it because she knows Brooke’s close.

“Tell me how much you want it.”

“Fuck, want it so much.”

“You’re so close, aren’t you?”

“Vanessa…fuck, please…”

Vanessa regains enough strength to sit up and cup Brooke’s face with her hands, meeting her lips with her own and teasing her with a slow, deep kiss. Vanessa flicks her tongue inside her mouth and when she rubs it over Brooke’s she cries out against her lips, her moans almost-but-not-quite swallowed by Vanessa’s kiss as she comes.

Brooke breaks away as she falls against the mattress and Vanessa follows her, lying down beside her and gently switching the wand off. They lay there in silence, Brooke’s gasps and the buzzing in Vanessa’s ears the only things she can still focus on until Brooke reaches out a hand to curl around one of Vanessa’s. Vanessa throws a leg over Brooke, pulls her closer so that Vanessa can rest her head against her chest and feel her frantic heartbeat.

“Fuck me,” Brooke whispers breathlessly, and Vanessa lets out a chuckle.

“What, again? Thought you’d at least want a break first.”

“Shut up,” Brooke giggles. There’s a pause as she presses her lips to Vanessa’s head, mouths something Vanessa can’t hear or see. Then she mutters again, a little louder. “You’re so amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” Vanessa replies childishly, though the way Brooke’s chest judders against her in a laugh Vanessa assumes she doesn’t mind. She flinches a little as Brooke’s stomach gives a loud rumble. “Oh yeah. Forgot you were meant to be making dinner.”

“Hey, I have made dinner thank you very much! It’s in the slow cooker. Cuban beef and rice if that’s okay?” Brooke asks, and Vanessa doesn’t miss the little nervous tone in her voice. It’s adorable.

“Sure it is.”

Brooke lends Vanessa some pyjamas to shove on in lieu of the outfit she’d arrived in, and Vanessa’s heart swells a little at the implication that she’s going to be staying over. She’s not sure if she’ll try and breach the subject of what they are tonight- the evening is already so perfect and Vanessa doesn’t want to ruin anything, especially not when they’re curled up on the sofa with bowls of warm food in their laps and laughing guiltily at the way Jan is sobbing because she and Jackie have become the latest ones to leave the competition after a tense dance-off with Crystal and Gigi.

“It’ll be a close final, though. Like that’s everyone been in the bottom now,” Vanessa contemplates, tilting her head in thought from her position at the other side of the sofa. Brooke nods, then snorts again.

“God. I feel for Jan, but she just has such a memeable crying face. Like Kim K,” Brooke snorts again, as some ridiculous BBC One gameshow that seems to be based around celebrities strapped into a wheel starts in the background.

“Jan’ll be fine. She’ll recover, she’s a big girl. She’s got Jackie anyway,” Vanessa shrugs. Brooke hums in response, and then there’s a palpable silence that fills the room, almost like Brooke is about to say something. Vanessa waits.

“So today got me thinking,” Brooke finally says, reaching out and curling her fingers around Vanessa’s. Her eyes are in her lap and she’s not meeting her gaze. Vanessa is, in every sense, on the edge of her seat.

“Uh-huh?”

“When I saw those pictures of you and Kameron,” Brooke continues, the reminder making Vanessa’s heart drop. “I got so envious…and then I thought, well…what’s the only way I can make sure Vanessa’s just mine?”

Brooke finally looks at her, and every fibre of Vanessa’s being lifts in hope. “So, uh, I was wondering…if you would want to be my girlfriend.”

And when Vanessa blinks, she can see fireworks explode behind her eyes. She’s unable to help the huge, dumb smile that breaks out on her face as she blushes shyly, gives a nod.

“‘Course I would, baby.”

The smile that bursts onto Brooke’s face mirrors her own, and Vanessa can’t help but lean in and pepper Brooke’s face with kisses, wrap her arms around her in a cuddle.

“Officially yours, now,” Vanessa smiles excitedly, as she rests her head against Brooke’s chest. She can’t see Brooke’s face, but she knows she’s smiling too.

And suddenly, a little sentence appears in Vanessa’s head, three very small and simple words that she’s not thought about in a long time but just make sense in that moment. She looks up at Brooke, meets her gaze and feels her heart thump.

Maybe she can save that for another day.

#rpdr fanfiction #ortega #bet you look good on the dancefloor #strictly au #lesbian au #branjie #past kamjie #vanessa vanjie mateo #brooke lynn hytes #kameron michaels #smut

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doing-all-write · 5 years ago

Text

star light, star bright

Joe and Ben take a trip on a boat for a ice relaxing Guys Weekend. What Ben doesn’t expect is to fall in love with the owner of the boat. Or to drunkenly sing karaoke with her.

Pairings: Ben x O.C.

Rating: E (18+, PLEASE do not interact if younger than 18)

Warnings: S M U T. Dom!Ben, but mainly Soft!Ben, bad karaoke and lots of boat and ocean puns (I’m a monster)

Word Count: 14K

Inspired by this iconic photo:

A/N: HELLO. IT’S ME. BACK FROM THE DEAD (Or I had three events in a row at work and wanted to D I E) but to make up for it, have a nice thiccc 14K, smutty fic!! This is my first time writing smut so PLEASE don’t judge me too harshly on it!

But as always, feedback, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! I hope you love it!

ALSO!!! In my most favorite turn of events EVER, I have someone who wants me to tag them! So: @itsabenthing, you’re a real one. (If anyone wants to be tagged in future fics let me know!!)

The sun beat down, scattering nets of diamonds across the water. The slow roll of Jimmy Buffet's guitar mingled with the waves slapping against the hull of the boat. The gulls screeching as they whirled through the air, diving down when they spotted dinner swimming underneath the surface. The wind fluttered the pages of the book held in her hand as she adjusted the sunglasses on her face.

The pole she was leaning against warmed her back. She laid the book down and turned her face toward the sun. It warmed her bones and she took a deep breath in, letting the sea, salt and wind fill her lungs.

She checked her phone, made note of the time and stretched her legs and arms out, almost purring as she uncurled from her reading position. She tipped her head back, closing her eyes to soak up this moment as she patted the deck of her boat.

She had grown up around boats. Her parents owned the Nereid marina and her earliest memories were of sitting on her mom's lap putting her small hands on top of her moms soft ones, feeling the wheel turn smoothly as she memorized the movements. Pretty soon, she had been the one steering the boat and "learning the ropes" as she loved to tell people and thrived off of their pained groans.

She worked at the Nereid every day, learning from the people who came into the port. Incessantly asking questions. Asking about their boats, their lives, where they had come from, where they were going. Her parents had teased her for being so inquisitive but she was in awe of the people who came to the Nereid.

In her mind, they were great adventurers, living a free wheeling life on the sea that she wanted for herself. She would watch people leave and the pull in her stomach to follow them was so strong she could feel her legs tensing, as if getting ready to jump into the ocean to swim to their boat, desperate to join them in whatever adventure they had planned next.

Her parents had expanded the Nereid so several of them littered the coast of California but the original one had passed into her care after she had graduated college. Her parents still helped out and offered guidance when she asked but overall, the original marina was hers to make the calls. It had a charming appeal to it, and between word of mouth and the incredibly Instagrammable mural she had added to one wall, people flocked to it.

As she sat there, soaking up the warmth, she was grateful she had gotten out of bed before the sun had risen. She had woken up early, the last of the stars in the sky fading as the horizon turned from inky black to lilac as the sun began its ascent from the horizon.

Her dad had always told her that each sunrise was different. And that each one had details that would tell her how her day would go. It wasn't until she was much older and in the habit of waking up early that her father would confess he had made it up to coax her out of bed that early.

Some people had their horoscopes, she had sunrises. Whenever she could, she would haul herself out of bed, and clutching a thermos of coffee, watch the sun rise and predict how her day would go. This morning she had a feeling in her gut that today, the sun rise would be incredible. So she slipped out of her apartment above the marina, jammed her feet into flip-flops, crammed a hat on her head and set out.

The sun rise this particular morning had been various shades of pink. The colors closest to the sun a deep red. She had thought to herself that those colors must be what it's like to be in love. She felt a tug in her heart as she contemplated how long it had been since she had been with, well, anyone since she had broken up with her last boyfriend. She quickly shook herself from her melancholy thought and cracked open her book as the sun's rays grew stronger.

Now, the sun was beating down, making sure to fry away every last bit of the chill there had been that morning. She decided she should head back to the Nereid and check in, see how things were going and if she needed to put out any fires. She chuckled as she murmured to herself and one gull that had landed next to her boat, bobbing with the waves, "Well if there WERE any fires to put out, thank god we're by a ocean."

The gull squaked and flew away.

She shook her head ruefully as she stood up and raised her arms above her head, the crochet tank top she had put on over her bikini rising up above her denim shorts.

The sea unfolded before her, reminding her constantly how wide the world was. How many people there were to meet, so many stories to hear and places to see. Her body shivered involuntarily as she contemplated the vastness of it all.

~~~

Somewhere close by to where her boat had just been anchored, another boat was getting ready to pull into the Nereid marina.

"BEN! HOIST THE BOOM AND GET 'ER READY TO COME STARBOARD."

"Do you know anything about boats, mate?" Ben scratched his head as he contemplated Joe's Captain Morgan pose.

"No, not a damn thing. But it sounded convincing right?"

"Yeah, it's the confidence, ya know?"

"It's all about confidence Benny boy." Joe said, slapping Ben's shoulder as he joined Ben at the rail.

Ben offered him a beer which Joe accepted with a quick thanks, the sharp crack of the tab opening piercing though the air.

Ben held his can aloft in a silent cheers and Joe brought his over to gently tap the rim of Ben's. They nodded to each other and raised the drink to their lips as they took a sip.

The sun beat down on them, warming the tops of their heads as the ocean stretched out in front of them.

Joe took another sip as Ben asked, "So, are we getting to port soon? What's the plan?"

Joe considered it, "Well, we plunder first,"

"Obviously."

"Then we do some light pillaging,"

"Of course,"

"Then have a nice meal together because you're my friend"

"That's lovely buddy thank you." Ben leaned into Joe as he wrapped an arm around his shoulder, giving him an awkward side hug.

"Anything for you, Ben."

"Hate to interrupt this touching display of male friendship but we're almost to port" Rich, the actual captain, called down to them as he deftly steered the craft towards land.

Joe peered up at Rich from under the brim of his baseball cap, "Shouldn't I be the one making those announcements? I am the captain after all."

Ben snorted, "Correctly identifying the starboard and port side does not a captain make."

"You're just jealous my nautical knowledge is so much better than yours."

Rich barked out a laugh as he shook his head, "The amount of nautical knowledge you have wouldn't even fill a Post-It note."

Joe pointed a thumb back at Rich, "I'm not sure we should trust this guy with our safety out in the open sea."

"I feel much safer in his hands than yours." Ben chuckled.

Joe gasped and brought a hand up to his chest, "I'm being attacked! My character is being demolished by my best friend and Rich!"

"What? We aren't best friends?" Rich deadpanned.

"Not with those insults you keep hurling my way, buddy." Joe wheeled around and pointed an accusing finger at Rich.

Ben laughed and stared back out at the horizon. He obviously knew the world was round but he could almost understand why people thought the world was flat for so long. He felt like if he stared at the horizon long enough, he could fall right over the edge and into the swirls of a galaxy.

Joe sidled up to his friend, eyeing him as he watched Ben's shoulders loosen up.

"You enjoying being in the cold grasp of that fickle mistress, the ocean, Benny?" Joe broke the silence as he clapped a hand down onto Ben's shoulder.

Ben snorted, "Absolutely. A pirate's life is a wonderful live and all that."

"It sure is." There was a. pause as Joe contemplated how he wanted to best introduce the next topic.

Finally settling on, "Speaking of she's and fickle mistresses and all that, how have you been doing since the breakup?"

Ben shrugged his shoulders, "It comes and goes in waves, ha." Joe let out a snort at his friends unintentional ocean pun.

"No, but, some days I think I'm okay and then something happens to remind me of her or our time together and I feel a twinge but," here Ben paused and cocked his head to the side, "I think that's just normal."

Joe nodded sagely, "Yeah. give yourself time, man. That was a long relationship. You're not going to get over it right away."

Ben nodded as he brought the beer can back up to his mouth to take a sip and surveyed the horizon. He could see the brightly painted mural getting larger by the second.

Rich sighed as he deftly steered the boat toward the Nereid. He had worked with Az and her family since he was young. He and Az were basically siblings, which is why, when he saw her standing on the deck of her boat tying it up, he laid on the horn.

Az jumped a foot in the air, dropping the rope she had been holding and managing to hit her head on the boom all at once.

"Fucking hell..." her voice drifted off as she turned around to see what asshole was responsible for taking ten years off of her life.

When she saw Rich pulling into the port with their most expensive boat she extended both middle fingers in a salute, complete with huge grin.

Rich laughed as he saw Az's two-fingered salute but the horn blaring had caused both Ben and Joe to jump and spill some of their beer.

"What the hell, man?" Ben shouted as he stared up at Rich.

"Yo, Rich, what was that about? Did someone cut us off?" Joe asked

Rich shook his head, "Sorry guys, I saw Az and wanted to fuck with her."

Ben and Joe looked at each. Joe cocked an eyebrow and Ben shrugged. They wandered over to the front of the boat to see what was going on.

Ben's first glimpse was of the sun reflecting off of her hair, causing it to look like gold. Then the two middle fingers raised high.

Joe noticed the shit-eating grin before he realized that she was directing her two prominent fingers at the man standing near the top of their boat.

Az noticed the other two figures on the boat about a second too late and lowered her hands, feeling bad that they may have thought she was flipping them off. She raised one hand in a sheepish wave as they pulled closer.

She laughed ruefully to herself as she turned back to securing her boat, Figures, she thought, the one time Rich actually has two cute guys in the boat I'm flipping them off. She took one final sweep of the deck as she shoved her book into her backpack and swung it over her shoulder.

She leapt from the deck of her boat onto the dock, landing with her arms raised triumphantly, waiting for Rich to cast judgement on her landing.

"And Az sticks the landing! The crowd goes wild! The judges give her all 10's!!" Rich imitated the screams of an energetic crowd as she waved and gave an exaggerated bow to her audience of...three now.

She came out of her bow and saw the two guys she had accidentally flipped off standing behind Rich, clapping along with him.

"Thank you, thank you. Please, no, c'mon, it was nothing." She said with mock modesty as she laid a hand across her heart and pretended to wipe a tear from her eye.

"How's your head doing?" Rich asked as he engulfed her in a hug.

"Well, I DID hit it on a large piece of wood so...not great."

"Ahh, c'mon. We were just having a good time."

"Were we?" She shot back as she stepped back and looked over his shoulder, "Hi, I'm Az, I definitely wasn't flipping you two off. I felt bad when I realized he had you guys on board."

"Oh no, I'm used to pretty girls flipping me off, it's fine." Joe said as he stepped forward with a hand extended.

Az let out a bark of laughter as she slipped her hand into his as they exchanged pleasantries.

Az turned to the blonde standing next to Joe and was barely able to keep the "Jesus FUCK you're gorgeous" from falling out of her mouth.

But he WAS. From a distance she could tell he was going to be cute but up close? Az was eternally grateful that someone as beautiful as this man could exist and be right in front of her.

He was checking all her boxes too; blond hair, dazzling smile, beautiful body (God she should ask who his trainer was and send them a fruit basket and a thank you note) the only thing that would really make him perfect was-

"You alrigh'?"

A fucking British accent.

Her eyes widened and Rich smirked. They both knew that she was well and truly fucked.

~~~

"Hey, Sal, how's it going?"

"Great, Az, the fish are biting and the sun is shining. Can't ask for more, eh?"

"Got that right. You stay out of trouble, alright?"

"Back at ya, sweetheart."

She waved at him as she continued down the marina. The sound of her flip-flops thwacking against the wood alerting her arrival to both regulars and newcomers at the Nereid alike.

Joe, Ben and Rich were sitting on the edge of the dock, feet dangling over the clear blue, watching her make her way down the boardwalk. After introductions had been made, Az had parted apologetically, saying she needed to do a lap but she would love to properly show them around once she came back.

"Does she talk to everyone?" Joe asked as he saw her stop at the dock next to Sal's and start talking animatedly to the woman there.

"Pretty much. I mean, she does own this marina so it would be kind of shitty if she didn't." Rich shrugged and readjusted his sunglasses.

Ben shoved his hands into the pocket of his jacket, "She OWNS this marina?"

"Yeah, her parents opened it and she took it over when they started branching out to other locations. This one's the most popular though, mainly because of her," Rich inclined his head to her retreating back. "And it's because she talks to everyone. Everyone loves Az."

"I've been meaning to ask, is her real name Az? Like, A Z?" Joe asked.

Rich snorted, "No, her real name is Azure which is a sick name but she thinks it's pretentious so she shortened it."

Joe nodded while Ben kept his gaze glued on Az as a little boy ran up and tugged on her shorts. She laid a hand over her heart as the child handed her a seashell with a huge grin on his face. Ben felt a smile growing on his face as she bent down to accept the gift, handling the shell with extreme delicacy, listening to the little boy as he told her everything he went through to get it.

Ben was entranced by her. When they had pulled into the Nereid he could tell she was cute. But when he had seen her up close, felt the full effect of her smile, how her eyes sparkled in the sun, the freckles dusted across her cheeks, he felt his breath hitch.

He could vaguely tell that Joe and Rich were talking about other things but he kept his eyes trained on Az. On her hair falling down her back, the way her hips swayed as she walked, the way it caused her ass to move-

"BEN. Come back to us buddy."

Ben jolted as he almost lost his grip on the edge of the dock, catching himself before he landed in the water, "What?"

"Rich said Az knows some good places for us to grab dinner and they'd love to take us out, does that sound good to you?" Joe asked as he furrowed his brow, reaching a hand out to steady Ben.

Ben cleared his throat, "Uh, yeah, that sounds great, thanks man." He inclined his head at Rich who just stared back at him, eyes inscrutable behind black Ray-Bans. Ben's gut suddenly dropped to the bottom of the ocean as he had the horrifying thought that maybe Rich and Az were dating.

Ben quickly dropped his gaze to the blue depths underneath his feet, wondering if it would be worth it to just jump in, start swimming and never look back.

Suddenly, Rich sprang up from the dock, "I'm gonna go check on Az, see what her ETA is to be done. I'll be right back." And with that announcement, strode off.

Joe's brow furrowed as he stared at Rich's back. "I don't know what just happened but I would say that we pissed off our captain."

Ben grunted as he kept his gaze laser focused on the fish cutting swiftly through the waves.

Joe tapped his foot against Ben's, "Hey, man, you know, you can communicate with me through more than monosyllabic sounds."

Ben huffed as he ran a hand through his hair, "I know. Sorry. I got myself all turned 'round but I'm okay now."

Joe's eyes cut over to Ben and as casually as he could, asked, "Was it about Az?"

"Uh-I mean-Not, like, explicitly but-"

"Well the way you were checking out her ass was pretty explicit I gotta say, Benny boy."

Ben's cheeks immediately turned red as he raked his brain for something witty to say. He finally sighed and dropped his head into his hands, "It was pretty obvious wasn't it?"

"You looked like one of those cartoon characters when they see a pretty lady and their eyes bug out of their head."

Ben groaned into his hands, "Dammit! She's just so hot and I don't know, maybe it's the ocean air doing something to me but I couldn't stop staring at her and then I saw Rich staring at me staring at her and now I'm worried that she and Rich are dating and I fucked up."

Joe slowly nodded his head as he contemplated Ben's predicament, "Well, it's good that we're by the ocean. If that's true you can always just drown yourself."

~~~

"He was drooling over you."

Az made an indelicate "OOF" noise as Rich grabbed her arm, doing a do-si-do move so she was facing him.

"Who? The Springer's dog? Because they just told me they tried some new medication to help with that-"

"No. What?" Rich furrowed his brow, "Is that really a thing you can do for dogs?"

Az shrugged, "I guess so. I'm not a vet, nor do I own a dog so my knowledge of cutting edge veterinary practices is sketchy to say the least."

Rich glanced over his shoulder to stare at the basset hound that was, indeed, sporting no less than three uninterrupted strands of drool which was three less than what he normally had.

He shook his head as he turned back to Az, "Okay, that's BESIDES the point. Though I do want to talk to them about that, I'm intrigued...ANYWAY. No. BEN was."

Az stared at Rich for three full seconds before bursting out laughing. Rich sighed and crossed his arms, waiting for the hysterics to die down.

Az dabbed her finger under her eye, "God Rich, that's hysterical. But seriously, why did you come over here."

"His eyes were so laser focused on your ass that I'm surprised there's not a hole in the back of your shorts."

Az's hands instinctively went to the back of her shorts, "Thank god I wore my cute bikini bottoms then."

"You fool. You absolute buffoon. One of the most attractive men I've ever seen in my LIFE was so absorbed by your ass that he almost fell off the dock when Joe yelled at him. I may be ace but that doesn't mean that I can't tell when someone is so thirsty for you that he would willingly drown for it."

Az stood there, staring over Rich's shoulder taking all this information in. The horizon spread out before her, various shades of blue.

"The title of my memoir should be called '50 Shades of Blue'" She finally muttered under her breath.

"AZ."

"Sorry, sorry! I heard you. I just-"

"It's always 'just' with you. You just can't because of the marina. You just can't because you're focusing on yourself. You just can't because of a million other reasons. You know what it JUST is with you?"

Az winced with each accusation hurled at her, "Jesus, just tell me so this can be done."

Rich took a deep breath and gripped her shoulders as he leveled his gaze at her, "You just don't believe you deserve this. You just are scared that someone will leave and you'll be left hurting like you were when your ex left you. But you know something? Even if this perfect replica of Michelangelo's David doesn't work out, you'll a) have a great story and TWO-"

Az's lips quirked into a half smile at Rich's lame attempt at humor.

"Is that you'll at least have given it a try. And I'll always be here for you to sing-scream 'thank u, next' with if he turns out to be a dick."

A laugh bubbled its way out of Az's throat, "Okay but like, we've already done that so often they threatened to call the Coast Guard on us."

A steely look settled over Rich's face, "And Barb from port five can still eat my entire ass. MY POINT though," at this, Rich ducked his head down to look right into Az's eyes, "just go for it, Az. Please."

Az's eyes flickered down at the water lapping underneath the boardwalk. The sun filtered through the cracks of the woodwork causing small sparks to light up as it hit the water flowing underneath.

She heaved a sigh, "Alright, FINE. Besides, if he's truly as into me as you say he is, this should be easy."

Rich clapped his hands, "Oh sweetheart, it's going to be easier than getting the Springer's dog to stop drooling."

~~~

To lighten the mood, Joe had started throwing rocks and bits of wood into the water yelling, "she loves Ben, she loves him not" with each plop while Ben kept threatening to push Joe into the water.

"You almost hit a fish with that one." Ben said, in a desperate attempt to distract Joe.

"He looked at me funny."

"They're fish. They look at everything funny."

"Fair point."

"Oh fuck, there's one swimming right at me."

"GET HIM, BEN. SHOW HIM WHO'S BOSS." Joe yelled.

Ben squinted one eye and gently tossed the piece of wood into the water near the fish.

"I'm going to call the cops." Came Az's voice in a sing song from behind them.

Ben turned around to find Rich and Az strolling back towards them. Az's arm hooked through Rich's which caused Ben's stomach to plummet.

She slipped her arm out from Rich's and dug her phone out of her pocket, "Hello? 9-1-1? Yes, this man here is abusing fish."

"Fuck, dude, we gotta get out of here. I can't go back to the slammer again." Joe laughed as he hauled himself up.

Ben smiled as he swung his legs up onto the dock. His feet fell next to Az's, encased in flip-flops, toenails painted bright pink as he traced the line of her legs up to meet her eyes.

Az's hand trembled a little as she offered it to Ben, "Need a hand?" A soft smile grew across her face as his blue eyes met her own.

The blue of the ocean was nothing compared to how blue Ben's eyes were, Az decided.

The green of Az's eyes were the most beautiful color he had ever seen, Ben decided.

The silence stretching between Ben and Az had gone on long enough, Joe decided.

"SO. Rich. What restaurant are we going to?" Joe loudly asked as he clapped his hands together, breaking the spell.

Az blinked and giggled nervously as she helped haul Ben to his feet. He smiled down at her and thanked her.

"No worries, you're lighter than expected."

"These are fake muscles. A pain in the ass to inflate every morning but so worth it."

The burst of laughter that erupted from Az made Ben smile wider.

She reached a hand out and wrapped it around his bicep, "So, if I squeeze too hard it'll pop?"

"Like a balloon."

She kept her eyes trained on Ben's face as she squeezed his arm and holy god she was not prepared for how solid it would feel. It took all of her will power not to get on her knees and beg him to choke her right there in front of God and everyone.

She cleared her throat, "Haven't heard anything pop yet."

"Well, clearly, your hand strength needs to be built up."

"I think there are some guys who would argue my hand strength is just fine." Az said without thinking. Her eyes widened as she realized the words that had fallen out of her mouth. Ben's breath caught in his throat as the image of Az's hand wrapped around his cock infiltrated his senses.

Rich's mouth dropped open as Joe made a noise that sounded vaguely like a hamster getting strangled.

Az ripped her hand from Ben's bicep "Well, I don't know what we're doing standing around here for, I promised you guys a tour so let's get started." She sped away down the pier, mentally chastising herself for coming on way too strong.

Rich stared at Ben, standing stock still, then at Joe who looked like he'd been hit on the back of the head with a two by four, and muttered, "Well, this is going to be easier than I thought."

~~~

"And this is the mural I commissioned from a local street artist. I actually caught her tagging a wall and I loved her work so much I hired her on the spot."

Ben and Joe stepped closer to take a closer look at the mural that depicted the ocean in a psychedelic fashion. Brightly colored fish, seaweed, shells, sea nymphs ("mermaids are overrated, it's all about sea nymphs now." Az had declared when Joe made a Little Mermaid joke) dolphins, sharks, even an octopus, in neon colors adorned the side of the building.

"It's really popular with Influencers and such. Tourists come to take pictures of it, it's been nothing but an incredible draw." Az said as she trailed her fingers over it as she walked down the wall. Her finger tips landed on the shark and she turned to look over her shoulder, "This guy is my favorite."

Ben meandered closer to get a better look at it, "Why is that?"

Az shrugged as she moved to stand beside Ben, "I've always liked sharks. I think they're fascinating and get a bad rep. We're the ones infiltrating their home. If someone tried to come into my home and polluted it at the same time, I'd probably consider eating them too."

Ben nodded slowly as his gaze drifted over the mural. "I like the octopus."

"Yeah? Why's that."

"He has a chill vibe about him."

"I can respect that."

Watching Ben and Az joke about the killer weed the octopus had, Joe hesitantly asked the million dollar question,"So, Rich, how long have you and Az been together?"

Rich snorted, "Too long." Hearing the squeak that came from Joe, hastily realized what he meant, "Oh, like, romantically? You think Az and I are, like, together together?"

"Um, yeah dude. You seem pretty comfortable around each other and I just assumed..." Joe's voice trailed off as a bemused grin melted over Rich's face.

"Are Az and I close? Yes. Do I love her? Absolutely. Is she a giant pain in my ass? Since day one when she told me I give off too much of a 'Jimmy Buffet' vibe. Am I also ace so therefore have no desire to date her or anyone? Oh you bet your sweet ass."

"So...Ben's clear to shoot his shot?"

"Ben's so clear to shoot his shot the whole fucking playing field is barren."

"You don't know the first thing about sports do you?"

"Not a thing my man." Rich confirmed cheerfully.

~~~

The sun had begun to make it's descent and the first whispers of orange and pink began to crawl their way up into the sky.

Seeing how small the gap between the sun and the horizon had gotten, Az clapped her hands together as she turned to the group, "So, if you guys are interested, there's a great bar nearby that I can get us either free or deeply discounted drinks. You in?"

Joe stared at Az for a beat then threw an arm around her shoulder, "I've never loved anyone more."

Az laughed as she rested her head onto Joe's shoulder, "And I'm sure it was me flipping you off that won you over and not the promise of free drinks."

"I've never been so into anything in my life." Ben muttered as he stared at Az. The words came out more intense than he intended. Az felt a warmth spreading through her stomach as she lifted her head from Joe's shoulder.

Ben blinked at his own intensity but didn't break his gaze from Az's as he stepped closer to her. The movement of her throat as she swallowed was the only thing that broke his gaze.

Rich's eyes were ping-ponging back and forth, relishing in the sexual tension.

Joe slowly slid his arm off of Az's shoulders and hesitantly stepped back.

Az could feel the heat building in her belly, a flush spread across her cheeks as she blinked up at Ben. The voice in her head finally snapped to attention and reminded her to say something, anything.

Her tongue poked out to swipe across her bottom lip. Ben shifted as his eyes darted down to track its journey, using his willpower not to capture her lips with his.

"Good, because the night's just getting started." Az said thickly as she slide her hands into the pockets of her shorts.

Only Rich caught her trying to wipe off her palms in her shorts and rolled his eyes.

He knew from personal experience that Az's palms always got extra sweaty whenever she flirted, clearly even a target as easy as Ben couldn't escape her clammy palms.

He just prayed that he wouldn't try to hold her hand in the next 20 minutes.

~~~

Az jiggled the worn handle on the innocuous wood door. She turned her head to glance back at Ben, "Don't worry, this is usually what happens."

"Good, because sketchy unmarked door? In an alleyway? I figured you had just lured us back here to murder us and wear our skins."

"Fucked up that you thought that. I would never wear your skins. I'd preserve them, stuff them and then use them as tasteful decor."

"JESUS Az." Rich declared as he stared at her, slack-jawed. Joe's face was caught in between amusement and horror.

Az winced as she finally got the doorknob to turn, "Too much?"

Ben waltzed through the open door, "Don't think there's ever 'too much' of you, love."

Az's cheeks flushed and she squirmed as he aimed a wink in her direction before stopping in the doorway to let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting.

There were Christmas lights strung all around the perimeter of the bar. Tables haphazardly littered the floor with chairs floating in between tables like so much debris. The back of the room was taken up by the actual bar. To the right, a small, hastily constructed stage with a karaoke machine looked to be the only thing that hadn't been there since the 70's.

Vintage concert posters promoting The Rolling Stones, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Carol King, Fleetwood Mac, Queen and more were wallpapered in a collage. The jukebox standing guard to the side of the front door was playing Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers. There was a low rumble as patrons and bartenders talked to each other.

When the door opened and Ben stepped in, most of them turned to peer curiously at who had just entered but didn't paid him, or Joe, any mind. A few hands went up and some greetings were called out in response to Rich's greeting as he waltzed into the establishment.

Then Az walked in.

"AZ!"

The bar exploded in a flurry of sound and movement as chairs were abandoned and tables shoved as a crowd foamed up around Az. Ben, Joe and Rich were forced to shuffle to the side as hands and bodies crowded around her. Most of them offering to buy her a drink or updating her on events that had transcribed since they had last seen her. Az took it all in stride. She smiled and laughed and nodded and let herself be carried by the crowd to the bar.

When she reached the bar she turned her head and Ben saw her eyes flitting from corner to corner, trying to locate them after the crowd had bum rushed her.

Ben raised a hand and her eyes locked onto the gesture at once. She smiled and he saw her shoulders relax. She turned back to the grizzled fisherman that was either greatly exaggerating the size of a personal body part or talking about a fish he had caught earlier in the day.

He desperately hoped it was the latter.

A sharp jab to his kidney brought him back to the present, "What are the odds she's getting drinks for all of us?" Joe asked as he surveyed the crowd that was three deep by the bar. Ben shrugged as Rich weaved his way to a table that was right in front of the karaoke stage.

Ben and Joe followed Rich and sat down as if this was another normal Saturday night for him. Joe kept staring at the bar when he finally broke, "So, is that a normal occurrence? Or did you tell everyone to pull that stunt so we'd think she's cool?"

Rich snorted, "God, I wish we were that coordinated. No. This is Az's favorite bar. And again, she grew up here so a lot of those people have known Az since she was just a wee tot."

He shrugged, "Everyone loves Az, I don't know what to tell you."

Ben felt his head nodding in agreement, then without thinking, asked, "Do you love Az?"

Rich's head snapped up so quickly he felt something pop in his neck and Joe's eyes widened a comical amount at Ben's boldness.

Rich coughed as he tried to find the right words, "Yeah, but like a sister. I'm ace, so, romantic feelings? Not my thing."

Ben felt like he was going to pass out. Joe could see the gears turning in his friends head and decided to help drive the point home and asked Rich point blank, "So, you and Az are not dating?"

"Nope." Rich popped the 'p' with extra verve, keeping his eyes trained on Ben.

Ben coughed into his hand, "So, uh, is she-uh-dating anyone, then?" He slouched down in his chair, hoping to offset how nervous he sounded with some laid back posturing.

Rich watched the full grown man in front of him sink so low into his chair he almost fell off of it and thought, Jesus, they're both such idiots. I hope they bone all night.

"No. And there hasn't been anyone in a while." Then realizing how that sounded tried to make it better, "Not that there's anything wrong with her! She's amazing, she just puts all of her energy and focus into the marina. Not saying that she wouldn't do the same in a relationship, it's just-AZ! Thank GOD you're back!" Rich flung his arms into the air as Az approached their table with a tray full of drinks.

Did you say something that didn't sound great then to make up for it you talked more which made it sound worse?"

"We've known each other too long haven't we?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way. I'll be right back." She turned and went back to the bar to return the tray Penelope had given her to transport the drinks.

Penelope managed the bar and was always willing to let Az pick up some shifts bartending when she needed some extra cash. When summer time got to be particularly heady, Penelope would entice Az to work with promises of free shots and unlimited baskets of deep-fried mac and cheese.

"So, Az. Your new friends are, how do I want to say this? Absolutely stunning."

Az kept her eyes down as she slipped the tray on top of the stack behind the bar, "Yeah, I guess. I don't know if I would describe Rich as stunning but-"

A sharp sting landed on her hip causing her to yelp, "What was that for?"

Penelope stood with the towel already rewound and ready to strike again, "You know damn well I'm not talking about Rich and if you don't tell me why blondie can't keep his eyes off your ass I'm gonna smack you again."

She pulled her arm back to show she was serious and Az scampered to the other side of the bar with hands held up, "OKAY! Okay! I'll tell you, just-be cool man. Put the towel down."

Penelope stared at her.

Az rolled her eyes, "If I sleep with 'blondie' tonight do you really want me to be covered with tiny red marks and he's so disgusted by my disfigurement he jumps into the ocean to get away from me?"

Penelope's eyes narrowed as she considered, "Alright, fine." The towel lowered as she tucked it into her back pocket, "But I still want answers. No one that beautiful has come into this bar since last time you came in."

"Lop, you flatter me."

"I know. It's a tactic to get more information from you."

"I should be mad but I'm just so honored you think I'm beautiful I'll tell you anything."

"Alright, what's your social security number?"

"Not that flattered."

"SPILL. NOW." Penelope ordered, slamming her hands on the bar.

Az rolled her eyes, "ALRIGHT, GOD. I went out on my boat this morning and as I pulled back in so was Rich with-"

"I so wish you had said pulling out."

"Will you let me FINISH?"

"Bet you won't be saying that later tonight. Blondie looks like he knows how to eat pussy."

Az threw up her hands, "You know what? No. You don't get to know ANYTHING now because you can't behave yourself. Are you HAPPY?"

Penelope shrugged, "Not as happy as I would have been if you'd said you'd pulled out."

"You're impossible."

"So I'll see you in the morning for coffee and a recap of your sexual escapades?"

"Of course. Love you."

"Love you too," Penelope said to Az's retreating back.

~~~

As she slid into her chair, Az lifted her glass in a toast, "Cheers, I'm glad Rich picked your guys' sorry asses up."

Her eyes met Ben's in the gloom and he saw the Christmas lights reflected in her eyes like so many stars.

"I'm glad that he picked us up too." Ben smiled at Az and let his gaze linger with hers as he took a long pull from the glass.

Az couldn't stop herself from staring at his lips. How full they were. How good they looked wrapped around that glass. How good they would look wrapped around certain parts of her anatomy.

Rich and Joe exchanged glances as Ben and Az fell into a loaded silence. Rich took a gulp from his glass and slammed it onto the table, "WELL. I, for one, am not going to let this night go to waste. It's karaoke time."

Az's eyes lit up as she whipped her head, "You're so right. It absolutely is."

Joe was bouncing up and down in his seat, "Thank GOD someone else brought it up because I was about to ask if I could get dibs on first round."

Ben groaned, "Do we really have to do this? I'm not much of a karaoke guy."

Az turned to him, "You will be after you have about five more of those," indicating the half finished beer in front of him, "so drink up. Because I have a feeling Turn Around Bright Eyes is going to be our big duet."

Ben's mouth fell open in shock as Joe cheered and Rich rolled his eyes, "God, Az. I fucking hate that song. Even when they covered it on Glee it was still a trash heap."

"Everyone hates that song but by god is it the perfect karaoke number."

Rich opened his mouth to argue, mulled over Az's statement and shrugged his shoulders in defeat, "I can't argue with that logic."

"Oh real help you are." Ben shot to Rich.

"Sorry Benny Boy. We all gotta pay the piper for free drinks somehow. In this case, it's total humiliation in front of an audience." .

Ben rolled his eyes and downed the rest of his drink as Az, Joe and Rich cheered. "Let's get this fucking over with."

~~~

"CAUSE I'M MISTER BRIGHTSIIIIIDEEEEE! GUITAR SOLO!" Ben launched into an epic air guitar solo, complete with white man overbite, as Rich gawked.

"Holy shit, he's such a dork, I can't believe you want to sleep with him, Az. Az?" Rich looked over to see Az flailing as she air drummed along, threatening to hit anyone within a five foot radius.

Joe was blissfully jamming to the air bass guitar, eyes closed, not a care in the world.

Rich shook his head in amazement as he finished the last of his drink.

The table was littered with pint glasses, most empty, a couple filled with a sliver of amber liquid. They had worked their way through most of the karaoke classics. Joe's rendition of Livin' On a Prayer brought the bar down and Az's version of I Wanna Dance With Somebody definitely had Ben feeling some type of way.

They were well into hour three of karaoke, with most of the patrons clearing out after hour one. Penelope had gotten several incriminating videos of Az that she could barely wait to show her in the morning.

Lop was currently wiping down the counter, eyeing the plug of the karaoke machine as the final notes of Mr. Brightside died out as Ben looked up, surprised to find himself on his knees after his impassioned performance.

Az, Rich and Joe were on their feet, whopping and clapping wildly as Penelope gave Ben a nod, the most encouragement she had given him all night.

Ben stood up and gave a bow then stumbled as a whirlwind of laughter and cheering enveloped him in her arms, carrying the scent of coconut and salt with it. Az was laughing in his ear as she hugged him and pulled back to reveal her smile, making the whole room seem to glow. He stared at it, committing it to memory.

"C'mon Benny boy, it's last call." Az was saying as she wrapped an arm around his waist, "and Lop does not like it when we push our welcome."

"Some of us have things to do Az!" Lop called from the bar where she was stacking glasses.

Az rolled her eyes as Ben slung a heavy arm around her shoulders. Joe and Rich were by the door holding it open for the two of them as they sauntered through, the alcohol leaving them warm and loose but coherent.

"So, have you seen the boat we arrived on?"

Az snorted, "You mean the one that belongs to my marina? Yeah, I may have seen it once or twice." She pinched his waist as he protested, "Alrigh'! It was a conversation starter. You know? One of those things were I say something, then you say something else?"

"I know how conversation works, Ben."

"Are ya sure? Because you've been pretty quite."

Az's mouth dropped open in shock as she stuttered a response and Ben chuckled warmly as he pulled her in closer to his side, "'M jokin' love. Don't worry."

Az's head lolled into his chest, trying to hide her grin at being called love, as she groaned, "Have I told you you're a giant pain in my ass, Hardy?"

"A few times, maybe." Ben smirked as his hand slid down her back to rest on the curve of her back that sloped down to her ass.

Az inhaled sharply as she felt his hand move lower. Ben tried to act like he hadn't heard her but his widening smirk gave him away.

They rounded the corner and saw the marina rise up before them. The sound of the ocean softly lapping against the hull of the boats bobbing up and down momentarily bringing a sense of serenity to Az.

Ben was transfixed by the change that came over her when she stared out at the ocean. The wind picked up her hair, like the wind was trying to pick her up and take her where she needed to go. Her eyes were fixed on a spot out on the horizon and Ben wanted to follow those eyes wherever they went. He inhaled the scent of the sea and knew that he would always think of Az whenever he smelled the ocean from now on.

"Sing us a SONG on the PIANO man! Sing us a SONG TONIGHT!" Ben turned to see Rich and Joe stumbling up the dock, arms wrapped around each other and he couldn't figure out who was helping who continue to be upright more.

"Are they both managing to hold themselves upright? On each other?" Az had turned in Ben's arms when she heard the singing. She had drapped her arms around his neck, peering over his shoulder and could feel his chest vibrate as he laughed.

"We shouldn't judge too much, we're kind of doing the same thing." He murmured into her ear.

"Yeah but, we're not THAT intoxicated. I can stand up perfectly fine on my own, see?" Az extricated herself from Ben's hold and he immediately shivered at the loss of contact. Az stood before him and over-exaggeratedly stamped her feet into the ground and put her fists on her hips as she beamed at Ben.

Ben couldn't help the smile that broke over his face and Az's own smile grew wider as she contemplated the beautiful boy before her. His eyes reminded her so strongly of the ocean, always changing color but still feeling like home. He was charming, kind and funny. She was smitten. And she was fairly sure he was as well.

But she didn't want to assume. It would rip her from the inside out if she made a move and he gently let her down with that accent and those eyes looking at her with pity. She couldn't handle that.

Ben watched as a conflict raged behind Az's eyes, causing her posture to deflate. He tilted his head, trying to decipher what had happened but was jolted forward as Joe rammed the full force of his body mass into Ben's back.

Ben had a height and muscle advantage on Joe but when Joe had alcohol and the love he had for his friends coursing through his veins, no one stood a chance.

"BENNY BOOOY THE PIPES THE PIPES" Joe belted into Ben's ear, causing him to flinch,

"Hey buddy, you doing okay?"

"Ben, I am better than you have ever been or ever will be." Joe's eyes were going in two different directions as he tried to rest a hand on Ben's shoulder but missed by a mile.

Az laughed at Joe as Rich tucked his head into the crook of her neck and started whining about how he just wanted some french fries.

"I uh, seem to have done more damage than I anticipated doing." She sheepishly.

Ben shook his head, "Nah, karaoke brings out the worst in others. It was inevitable."

"Or the best." She said softly and looked at Ben with wide eyes and bit her lip. Ben shifted as he tried to come up with a response but it was challenging with Az staring at him like that and Joe trying to climb Ben's body so he could get a piggy back ride back to their boat.

"AAAAAZZZZZ. Please, I just want some fries!"

Az rolled her eyes and the moment ended as she turned to face Rich and grabbed the sides of his face, "Then by GOD man we are going to get you some fries."

Joe's face lit up, "FRIES? I also want those!"

Az giggled as Rich planted a sloppy kiss to the side of her face, "You're worse than the Springer's dog but c'mon gang let's get some starch."

Joe and Rich cheered as they stumbled down the pier towards fries and Az tried to herd them away from the sides so they wouldn't fall into the water. Ben watched them leave and shoved his hands into his pockets. He needed time to think. To be alone. So he made his way on board the boat they had come in on.

He climbed the ladder all the way to the top deck and laid out on his back. His arms crossed behind his head to offer some cushion as he gazed up at the stars.

He wondered what had made Az lose confidence in herself. He assumed he had made it clear he wanted her. Maybe she didn't want him? Maybe that glimmer in her eye was her way of realizing that she just wasn't as into him as he was into her?

He didn't think he could stand watching those eyes fill with pity as they tried to let him down gently.

He sighed, picked out the brightest star and sent up a desperate wish.

star light, star bright, first star I see tonight...

~~~

"I love fries. Almost as much as I love you Az."

"Thanks Richy that's very sweet. And after watching you eat a whole basket of cheese fries in under two minutes that really means something."

Rich mumbled something about how potatoes were his one true love as he drifted off to sleep, curled up on the recliner in Az's living room while Joe had taken up more space on the couch than a man that size should have. Checking to make sure both were asleep and not in danger of choking on their own vomit, she exhaled and scanned her apartment for her phone. The soft glow of it alerted her to its presence on her kitchen counter.

She crept over to pick it up only to be greeted by a text from Lop,

Can't wait to see all the hickies you have tomorrow at breakfast.

She rolled her eyes and wiggled her thumbs over the keyboard as she tried to formulate a proper response. Should she tell Lop the truth? That she was so terrified of being rejected by Ben that she wouldn't even take a chance? Or should she just ignore her text and go to bed?

She groaned, letting the weight of her head fall forward until it. thunked against her phone as she contemplated what to do.

She lifted her head, locked her phone and slide open the balcony door. The ocean air filled her with calm as she surveyed the boats bobbing in the waves.

She looked up and found the brightest star she could. She closed her eyes and with her whole heart started to wish.

star light, star bright, first star I see tonight...

~~~

30 minutes had crept by and her eyes refused to close. She did everything she could think of to relax and fall asleep. She had counted sheep. She had focused on her breathing. She had pulled up an ASMR YouTube channel.

(She quickly exited out once she realized she was only clicking on videos that had ocean sounds in them and realized how idiotic that was.)

In a moment of pure frustration she threw a temper tantrum, flinging her limbs, beating the mattress with her fists. She cursed her body and brain for failing her when she needed peace the most.

She took three deep breaths and wondered where Ben was for the 500th time that night. After leading the Drunk Brigade to get cheesy fries and when she asked him if he wanted anything and didn't receive a response, that's when she realized he wasn't with them.

When she tried to get Joe to give her Ben's number so she could check on him, he had pulled up Spotify and started blaring "Boss Ass Bitch" which meant Az had to wrestle it from him and put a stop to it before the other drunk individuals standing in line started a mosh pit.

After making peace with the fact that she definitely wasn't going to sleep any time soon, or even at all, she got up and hoped a walk would clear her head. Walking along the dock always put her at ease.

As the wind whipped around her, she pulled the sweatshirt she had thrown on over her shorts closer to her to combat the chill. She had planned to walk to her boat but something pulled her towards the boat that Rich, Ben and Joe had sailed in on. She liked going to the very top of it, it gave her the best view of the stars. When she was younger she liked to spend nights up there, reaching her hand up and pretending she could pluck the stars out of the sky.

She got to the top and froze as she saw a figure laying on the ground. Immediately her heart sped up and she thought through all the possibilities.

It could be some homeless person. They wandered the boardwalk sometimes. Maybe I could just leave and deal with it in the morning?

Oh god, what if it's a dead body? Was her next immediate thought, Then I'll somehow be blamed for the murder and go to jail and my whole life will be ruined.

When the body stirred, the relief she felt was short lived as she realized she would have to deal with a very LIVE body.

Direct action is the best action. Catch them off guard, knock them out, then call the cops. She slowly slid her phone out of her pocket and dialed 9 1. She nodded to herself, took a deep breath in and raced onto the deck waving her phone over her head,

"YOU BETTER TELL ME WHAT YOU'RE DOING HERE RIGHT NOW BEFORE THE COPS GET HERE ASSHOLE"

Ben jolted awake, not even realizing he had fallen asleep, and tried to sit up only for his head to collide with something solid, causing him to fall down on his back groaning.

Az rubbed the spot where her head had made contact with the mystery perp and wondered briefly if she was out of her depth if this person was willing to stoop so low as to headbutt her.

Ben carefully opened his eyes as the voice said, "Okay, headbutting someone is low ESPECIALLY when you're the one who broke onto MY boat and besides, NO ONE wins in a headbutt."

He recognized that voice.

He knew that voice.

"Az! Az. Az, look at me. Look! It's me! It's Ben! And I didn't mean to headbutt you, but, christ, you have a dense skull."

Ben? Az lowered her arm as the words cut through her adrenaline fueled rampage. She looked down at the figure below her and fully understood what had happened when her eyes met the blue ones staring up at her.

"Jesus, woman. You know how to give a wake up call."

Az breathed a sigh of relief, "Well you know how to scare someone! Why didn't you tell me you were up here?"

Ben looked down as he shuffled his feet and muttered, "Needed some time by myself." Az cocked an eyebrow in disbelief as she chewed over what he had just admitted to her.

Why did he need time to think? Was he worrying about her? That unspoken moment on the pier that was ruined by Az's overthinking and Rich's need for potato products after a night of drinking?

"Wait, why are you up here? Shouldn't you be holding Rich's hair back as he vomits into a toilet or something?" Ben shot back at her accusingly.

It was Az's turn to become sheepish and she rubbed the back of her neck, "I, um, I couldn't sleep."

Ben looked at her for a loaded moment before scooting over and patting the spot next to him, "Well, you're welcome to join me. I don't think I'll be going back to sleep anytime soon. Too much adrenaline coursing through my body."

Az whacked him on the shoulder as she settled next to him and the smirk on Ben's face grew as he turned his face up to the night sky.

"You come out here a lot when you can't sleep?"

Az hummed, "It's peaceful. Helps me put things into perspective."

Ben nodded, "Wish I lived near water. But I've forests near me which helps. Something calming abou' trees ya know?

"Yeah. Forests. Oceans. Mountains. Anything in nature that's bigger than you that reminds you of how small you are and how big the universe is. And how lucky we are to even be here at all."

"Oh, we're jumping right into the Deep Thoughts, huh?"

Az smirked, "I'm quite quick Hardy, ya gotta keep up."

Ben knocked his elbow against hers, "Well if we're jumping into deep thought territory, every time I look at the night sky I find the brightest star and wish on it. Helps me realize what I want to focus on in my life."

Az's eyes grew wide, "Wait, for real?"

"Yeah. Been doin' it since I was a kid. Why?"

"I do the same thing."

"You're joking."

"I swear on my LIFE."

Ben chuckled, "Well, I don't think we have to go that extreme, I believe you but, wow. Huh. Guess the universe is trying to tell us something."

"Guess so." Az smiled back at Ben and when he didn't drop his gaze, dropped hers first.

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as she drew her knees into her chest, still feeling the intensity of Ben's gaze on her.

"What?"

"What do you mean, 'what'? Not allowed to look at you?"

"You are but it just, I don't know, makes me nervous?" She flinched at the uptick that ended her remark and mentally chided herself for not sounding more confident.

"I make you nervous?" Ben could hear the smugness in his voice and knew he should tone it down but couldn't find it in himself to do so.

"Oh my god, I'm going to regret telling you this, but, yeah. I mean, obviously."

Ben leaned back on his hands as he studied Az's profile, "Why do I make you nervous? Not like I'm intimidating."

"You kind of are though?" When Ben made a shocked noise Az straightened up to face him, "No! No, no. Not in like, a bad way? Just in like, a, ah, you're very attractive?" She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks and pulled her hands into the sleeves of her sweatshirt and balled them up, "And, uh, for someone like me, that's very intimidating."

"You're intimidated by me because I'm...attractive?"

"Yes, Ben! I think you're hot! Smoking! A total smoke show! You happy? And I know that you think I'm just some dorky girl who likes cheesy 80's ballads but," she flung her hands towards the heavens as if to illustrate how fruitless it would be for him to like her, "here we are."

Ben could barely contain the smile that threatened to break his face in two. "Alrigh' well, first of all, thank you for sharing your real feelings." Az clambered up, muttering about how she had embarrassed herself enough when Ben hoisted himself up and grabbed her wrist, "but don't assume you know what I'm thinking."

Az's body stilled and Ben knew she was listening despite her not meeting his gaze, "You just thought I felt one way abou' you? That's a little short sighted. You ever assume you know everything about the universe? I've got whole universes inside me too!"

Az peeked at Ben through her eyelashes, "You get that line from the last John Green novel you read?"

Ben gently grasped her chin with his thumb, angling her head up so she would fully look at him, "Maybe I did. There's a reason he's so popular. But don't interrupt me." Az pouted and Ben traced the outline of her lip with his thumb.

She shuddered at the contact and Ben stared into her eyes, "I've wanted to kiss you since the moment I saw your hair shining in the sun and your two middle fingers greeting us as we pulled into port. I couldn't believe someone as beautiful as you wanted to hang out with someone like me. I mean, fuck, Az," he wheezed out a laugh, "I've been losing my mind trying to find ways to be closer to you. Make you laugh. Make you smile. I sang fuckin' Turn Around Bright Eyes just because you asked."

"And you were the best duet partner I've ever had for that song."

"While I take great pride in that, I'm on a role here."

"Sorry. Please continue."

Ben took a deep breath in, "Az, I've wanted you ever since I saw you. But then I got to know you and, fuck, that feeling has just increased. So please," his voice dropped to a whisper as he ducked his head and his lips brushed over Az's as he asked, "Can I kiss you?"

Az's breath came out in shaky bursts and she didn't trust herself to move. She nodded and Ben's lips melted against hers as he cradled the back of her head and wrapped an arm around her waist.

It felt like everything in Az was aflame. The fire that had been building in her ever since she laid eyes on Ben had reached a fever pitch.

His lips moved against hers and he groaned. Her lips were just as soft as he expected them to be.

She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her. He grasped her waist with both of his hands, fingers digging into her sides to ground her to him. As if he needed to make sure that she was real and she wasn't going anywhere.

Az had no plans of leaving anytime soon. She stroked the short hairs that grew at the nape of his neck, causing Ben to grip her waist tighter and she let out a moan.

Ben almost came as she moaned into his mouth. He could feel his cock growing harder and when Az pressed herself closer to him she could feel it as well.

She pulled back from his mouth with reluctance and let out a shaky breath, "Someone's excited." Ben threw all delicacies to the wind, "My cock has been hard since we started hanging out." Az's eyes grew wide and Ben could clearly see how blown out her pupils were.

The wind blew a few strands of hair across her flushed cheeks and with a glance down, Ben could see her chest rising and falling rapidly. With that thought, he traced his hands slowly up her sides as Az's breath hitched in her throat.

"Is this okay?" Ben whispered as his hands crept up her sides, agonizingly slow, leaving a trail of fire in their wake as Az nodded. She could barely keep herself upright, there was no way she could form words.

Ben smirked down at her as his thumbs grazed the sides of her breasts and Az jumped. "Easy, it's okay" he whispered as he leaned down to capture her lips with his once again.

"I know but, fuck, Ben. I've wanted you all day." Az whined and Ben was certain in that moment there was nothing more attractive than the sound Az breathlessly telling him how badly she wanted him.

"Well, you don't have to wait anymore." He whispered against her lips and Az pressed her lips to his as she gripped his shoulders.

Ben's hands continued their agonizingly slow pace to the front of Az's chest where he realized she wasn't wearing a bra and he let out a groan, "Fuck, Az, I need you."

"Who's the impatient one now?" Az smirked as she nipped at his bottom lip and Ben whined.

"Is there anywhere we can go? Preferably with a bed?"

"Inside, there's a room at the end of the hall."

Ben planted a deep kiss on Az and pulled her down the hall. Az's head was still reeling with how he had just kissed her and was only slightly aware of Ben leading her through the door and down the hall of the boat to one of the bedroom's that was located on board.

Ben turned the knob and let the door swing open as he pressed another kiss to Az's lips. Her hands were clawing at his back and he registered distantly that he might have scratches on there that he would have to explain to Joe.

Not that he cared.

Az fumbled behind her as she kicked the door, briefly hoping it was closed enough. Ben had moved down to kissing her neck and she couldn't think about anything else.

She bent her head back to allow him more access as he nipped at the column of her throat, causing her to release little moans every time that were sending Ben's head spinning.

Az yelped as Ben picked her up, causing her to wrap her legs around his waist instinctively, and he deposited her on the bed where he stared down at her as she pushed herself up to her elbows and stared back. She cocked an eyebrow at him, "What?"

"Nothing, you're just...fuck. You're beautiful."

Az's smile was bashful and she suddenly found it extremely hard to look Ben right in the eye at that moment.

Ben, sensing her shyness leaned down so he was hovering over her body and whispered, "Now's the time when you tell me I'm beautiful."

Az laughed, and remembered this was Ben. Sweet, caring Ben who she had spent all day pining over. She wasn't going to waste another moment getting caught up in her own head.

Ben went back to sucking and licking at Az's neck as one hand reached up underneath her sweatshirt and traced the outline of her breast, causing Az to arch her back.

She whined, "Ben...please."

Ben smirked against her neck, "Please, what?"

"Touch me. Please. I've wanted this all day."

"Hmm, I don't know..."

"Please, sir. I'll do anything." Az breathed out before she could stop herself.

Ben pulled back and stared with wide eyes. Her own eyes were half-lidded as she stared up at him, pupils blown out, cheeks flushed, chest heaving, hips bucking.

Ben cleared his throat, "What-uh-what did you just say?"

A look of worry washed over Az, "Uhm, sir?"

"That's what I thought." he growled.

He leaned down so his lips were right against her ear, "And since my good girl asked so nicely...I guess I'll give her what she wants."

He traced a circle that got smaller and smaller until he was tracing around her nipple as he swung his other leg around so he was straddling her and started to grind his clothed cock into her cunt. Az was only briefly embarrassed thinking about how she could cum from grinding against Ben fully clothed like some pre-pubescent 13-year old.

She babbled. "Please, sir. Yes. Oh my god. Fuck. Ben. Please, I need more."

Ben chuckled, "I've barely touched you. If this is how you're reacting now I can't wait till I tease your little cunt with my fingers, tongue and cock."

"Oh my GOD Ben, please. I need more. Please, I'm begging you."

Ben smirked as he started tweaking her nipple with deft fingers. He brought his other hand up to stroke her throat, testing the waters, "How do you feel about me touching your throat? Do you like that baby girl?"

Az whimpered and nodded as she desperately tried to grind her pussy against Ben's aching cock even more. He hadn't even registered how hard he was. He was so focused on Az and how needy she was, his own needs almost escaped him.

He gently laid a hand over her throat and squeezed the smallest amount which caused Az to throw her head back and let out a moan so loud that Ben was sure every boat in the marina would hear it.

It made his cock twitch.

"That's my good girl." he cooed as he continued to tease her nipple. Az whimpered and reached her hands up in a grabbing motion,

"What is it sweetheart? Use your words."

"Kiss me. Please."

Ben smiled and moved his hand from around her throat to cradle her cheek, "Of course sweetheart." The kiss he gave her was sweet, gentle and deep which caused Az's head to spin even more at the difference between this kiss and his filthy actions. Az wrapped her legs around his waist to bring him as close to her as possible.

Ben chuckled, "You're already so needy."

Az rolled her eyes, "Shut up." and went back in for another kiss.

Their lips moved together as Ben reached his hands down to the edge of Az's sweatshirt and gave it a little tug.

Az pulled away and ripped the sweatshirt off in record time. Ben sat up and stared down at Az's body, finally exposed to him.

"Holy shit."

Az fidgeted under his gaze, "What? Not what you thought?" bracing herself for him to tell her he had changed his mind.

"Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined you having a body as amazing as the one you have."

He leaned down to wrap his lips around her nipple as his other hand came to play with the one his mouth wasn't currently occupying. Az groaned but couldn't keep the smile off of her face as she reached a hand up to tug at his hair.

Ben switched from one nipple to the other as he glanced up at Az, "Couldn't let the other one feel left out."

"God forbid" Az breathed out as she arched her back after he gave a particularly hard nip.

He chuckled as he came up to plant another kiss on her lips, "Are you ready?"

"Ready for what?"

Her eyes snapped open as she felt his hands travel down her body, past her breast, where he gave her nipple one more tweak, down her waist, down to the top of her thigh as he danced his fingers up her inner thigh. Teasing her as he brought his fingers close to where she most wanted him.

"Ben..."

His fingers stilled, "What did you call me?"

She whimpered, "Sir..."

"Better." His fingers danced closer to her cunt.

"Sir...please. I need you." Her hips were bucking desperately and Ben looked down at the beautiful woman underneath him and couldn't believe he had gotten so lucky.

He fiddled with the edge of her shorts, as she whined. He smirked and moved to trace the outline of her pussy through her underwear, he took in a sharp intake of air, "Fuck, baby girl. You're soaking wet for me."

Az whined, "That's what you do to me. That's all for you, sir. Please."

Ben groaned as he bent his head down to capture her lips with his as he dipped a finger into her panties and teased the lips of her pussy open.

Her thighs fell open easily as she bucked her hips to get more of his finger inside her. Ben slowly dipped one finger inside of her, when he felt how wet she was, he added a second, and then a third.

Then removed them entirely.

"Baby girl, flip over onto your stomach for me."

Az looked at him curiously but did as she was told, "Like this?" she asked as she looked back at him and bit her lip. Ben groaned and palmed himself through his pants as she looked up at him with her big eyes.

She glanced down at his bulge, "Can I suck your cock?"

Ben almost choked. "Holy fuck sweetheart. You're gonna make me cum if you keep talking like that."

Az giggled and then moaned as Ben thrust his fingers back into her, "I would love for you to suck my cock but first, I really want you to cum for me." He said as he kept thrusting his fingers in and out of her dripping core.

The angle had his fingers hitting her sweet spot right away. He kept palming himself through his jeans. He pumped his fingers slowly into Az's cunt, feeling her walls clench around his fingers, her ass moving up and down as she fucked his fingers, trying to fill herself up more. She whined when Ben ripped his fingers out of her.

"Ben..." She looked behind her and saw that his shirt was off and was making equally quick work of his jeans and boxer briefs. "Take off your pants. Now." he growled as he stepped out of his own, letting his cock spring free. Az was transfixed by it. It was huge. She licked her lips as she saw the pink tip, leaking pre-cum. She groaned as she imagined wrapping her lips around it, making Ben cum down her throat. Swallowing every single drop of his cum as he moaned.

"Baby girl?" Ben's voice broke Az out of her reprieve and she quickly reached her hands down and shimmied out of her panties and shorts and threw them into the room.

She pushed herself up to her hands and knees and stared at Ben over her shoulder, "Well?"

Ben licked his palm and stroked his cock a few times as he admired the view of Az's ass in front of him, her pussy glistening with her wetness.

He licked the fingers that had been in Az's cunt and tasted how sweet she was as he walked forward. He inserted his fingers back into her cunt making her hang her head and groan.

He pumped them in and out a few times and smacked Az's ass, "Lie down on your back."

She yelped but did as she was told. Ben looked into her eyes as she laid down, "I'm so sorry, I should have asked before I spanked you, I'm so sorry-"

Az cut him off with a kiss, "No! No. It was so hot. Sir." She added as she smirked up at him. Ben chuckled as he kissed her lips and moved to kiss down her body.

Az's breath got shallower the closer he got to her pussy. He nipped at the inside of her thighs as he just barely brushed her clit with the tip of his tongue.

Az almost levitated off the bed, "FUCK. BEN. Please!"

Ben chuckled and inserted two fingers into her cunt and started making obscene sucking noises as he sucked on her clit. Az always used to say she didn't understand why people made so much noise during sex but now? With Ben working his magic on her with his fingers and tongue? She didn't know how she could be quiet.

All too soon, she felt the familiar burning sensation in her stomach as she reached her edge, "Ben..Sir.."

He hummed against her clit which made her throw her head back and let loose a new wave of moans, "FUCK. If you do that again, I'm going to cum."

"Cum on my face then. Please." Ben said as he hummed against her clit and made a come hither motion with his fingers causing Az to completely unravel. The heat that had been building inside of her all day consumed her body as her vision went white.

Ben kept lapping until she whimpered and tried to move away, even then he kept slowly pumping his fingers in and out of her.

"Ben, please..." her voice came out as a whisper as she tugged on his hair to indict she wanted him to move up. Ben placed a final sweet kiss on her clit before slowly kissing his way back up her body.

Az let out a deep sigh as she closed her eyes and let the few remaining pulses of pleasure wash over her, relishing in the attention he was bestowing upon her.

Ben paused as he took in Az's body, stretched out below him and whined in the back of his throat.

The green of Az's eyes were revealed as she smirked at the needy sounds that escaped Ben.

She quickly pushed Ben off of her and before he could protest too much she straddled him and bent her head down to nip at the line of his throat which caused him to cry out.

Az giggled, "Does that feel good sir?"

Ben's eyes were rolling into the back of his head as Az's core ground against his exposed cock, he could feel the wetness as he bucked his hips up into her, "God, yes, sweetheart, please that feels amazing, don't stop..."

Ben's voice trailed off as Az started kissing his collarbone, then his chest, then his stomach, when he finally registered what her intentions were, he moaned as his eyes fluttered closed.

Az peered up at him through her lashes and couldn't stop herself from admiring how beautiful he looked. Eyelashes resting on his cheeks, chest heaving, cheeks the color of an English rose and his eyes...were staring right at her as she placed a soft kiss onto his cock.

He whined and Az's hips bucked involuntarily at the noise. She smiled up at him and he reached a hand down to caress her cheek.

She hummed and pressed a kiss into his palm. She turned her head back to the more important, and pressing, task at hand.

She kissed Ben's thighs as he threw his head back and sighed in ecstasy.

In between kisses, Az teased "I've barely touched you and you're already this needy."

Only a sliver of blue could be seen as she looked up at Ben, "If I wasn't so desperate for you to suck my cock, I would have a much better comeback" he breathed out in between moans.

Az smirked and curled her fingers around his cock as she licked her lips in anticipation.

Ben was huge. She shouldn't have been surprised, Lop had even said he carried himself with an energy that seemed to imply he was hung, but god.

She wrapped one hand loosely around his cock and licked a wide stripe from his balls to the tip where she placed a gentle kiss on it.

The groan Ben let out had her swinging a leg around so she could grind her core into Ben's thigh as she continued licking his cock.

She finally, agonizingly slowly, wrapped her lips around the head of Ben's cock and started to bob her head up and down.

Ben reached his hands down to grasp her hair and move it out of her face.

Az spit on his cock and started working her hands up and down as she peered up at Ben, "Thanks for the hair tie."

Ben bucked his hips up into her hands as he gasped, "Not so much for you, mainly wanted to see your lips wrapped around my cock. Been thinking about that all day."

Az laughed and kept one hand pumping the length that she couldn't fit into her mouth. She looked up at Ben through her eyelashes and heard him mutter, "Fuck. Having your lips around me is even hotter than I imagined."

Az hummed and Ben screamed, "FUCK" and pulled her off of his cock, mashing his lips against hers in a frenzy, "If I don't fuck you now I'm going to hate myself forever."

Az laughed gently against his lips, "Well, we can't have that now, can we?"

Ben nipped at her bottom lip as he brought a hand up to lightly smack her ass, "Someone seems to have forgotten their place, baby girl."

Az whimpered as she felt the sting, "I'm sorry sir, it won't happen again."

"Damn right," Ben said and stilled as his eyes met Az's with concern, "I don't have any condoms on me. Are there any on this boat?"

Az pressed a kiss to his cheek, "I have an IUD. It's fine. Just, please fuck me right now. Please? I'm begging you."

Ben exhaled and grabbed Az's hips with such strength that Az knew for certain there'd be bruises the next day.

Az clambered on top of him and lined up her entrance to the tip of Ben's cock, she slowly lowered down and the feel of her walls being stretched by his girth had her letting loose a string of curses that were almost drowned out by Ben's.

"Fuck, Ben, you're so big, god." Az squeezed her eyes shut as she bottomed out.

Ben squeezed her hips as he took every ounce of willpower not to buck up into her and fuck her until all she could say was his name, "Jesus, sweetheart, you feel incredible. This is so much more amazing than I ever could have imagined."

Az let out a shaky laugh as she started to roll her hips forward and back. Getting used to Ben's length, working it over. Ben couldn't take his eyes off her as Az's hips started rocking harder and harder against his cock.

He reached his hands up and grasped her breasts, rolling her nipples in between his fingers as Az threw her head back and let out a moan. Ben didn't think there was a better view in the entire world than this one.

Az reached a hand down to rub her clit as she rocked her hips back and forth and Ben's hips snapped up into her as his hands worked on her nipples. She felt her core tightening and that familiar warmth start building inside her for the second time.

She gasped, "Ben...sir...Ben..I'm so close, fuck, please don't stop, please"

Ben growled, "I don't plan on stopping any time soon, sweetheart."

Az moaned as she rubbed her clit harder and finally with a tweak of her nipples, Az felt herself coming undone around Ben's cock.

As she came out of her haze she could hear Ben babbling about how good she was, how tight she was, how he wanted to cum so badly. Az slowly leaned down and pressed a kiss to Ben's lips, causing him to pause in his actions.

She pulled back and smiled at him and he smiled at her. He gently stroked her sides, then grabbed on to her waist and flipped them over so Az's back hit the bed with a "OOF" and Ben ended up on top, hands on either side of her head.

He grinned down at her as she rubbed her hands up and down his arms, "Think you're so special huh?"

Ben's grin grew wider as he snapped his hips into her and Az broke down into moans and strained to get more of his cock inside of her. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Yeah, I like to think so."

"Please. Just fuck me."

Ben breathed out a laugh, "You don't have to ask twice." And started thrusting into Az as she grasped onto his shoulders, arching her back.

Ben could feel his thrusts getting sloppy and knew he was close. He reached a hand down and rubbed Az's clit, "Baby girl, think you got one more in you? I want you to cum with me."

Az nodded as her eyes rolled into the back of her head, "Uh-huh, yes sir, please, I want to cum again so badly, please please please please..." the last please fell on deaf ears as Az reached her climax for the third time. Her walls clenched around Ben's cock, pulling the best orgasm he'd ever had in his life out of him shooting thick, hot ropes of cum into her pussy as they both moaned and held onto each other as if they were life rafts keeping each other afloat.

Ben opened his eyes as he and Az caught their breath. They looked at each other and burst into laughter as they came down from their highs.

"Wow, uh, that was-"

"Amazing?" Ben asked, shyly.

Az's eyes grew warm as she brought a hand up to caress his cheek, "Yeah. Definitely worth the wait."

"Well, sorry. I didn't want to assume you wanted this as badly as I did." Ben whispered as he gazed down at Az with a soft look in his eyes

"Hmm, yes. Because a man who looks like a Greek god and can also make me cum THREE TIMES is clearly someone I don't want anything to do with." Az joked as she pulled Ben's face down to give him a gentle kiss.

Ben rolled his eyes as Az giggled. Which turned into a whimper as he pulled his cock out of her and he chuckled when he saw her pout, "Alright love. None of that. I'll be right back."

Az sighed and stretched out on the bed. She heard water running in the bathroom and Ben emerged with a warm washcloth.

He sat on the bed next to her and gently pulled her knees apart as he cleaned her up. Az smiled her thanks as Ben returned to the bathroom to clean himself up.

He walked out and saw Az had gotten underneath the covers, as he pulled back the covers he smiled, "Is this spot taken?"

A slow grin split her her face as she shook her head and patted the spot next to her.

Ben clambered into bed beside her and when he opened his arms wide, Az snuggled right into them. She sighed contentedly as Ben placed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

As they both drifted off to sleep, they both thanked the star they had wished on for making their dream come true.

High above, the star they had both wished on, seemed to shine a little brighter as it hung right above the sleeping couple.

~~~

Rich woke up the next morning with a headache, the feeling that he had fuzz all over his tongue and the need to never consumer alcohol ever again. He groaned as he sat up and saw Joe, who was snoring louder than a man that size should, was still sleeping.

Rich stretched and slowly made his way to the bathroom. As he finished up and walked back out to the living room, he peered into Az's bedroom and saw her bed was empty. He shrugged, Az usually got up early so he figured she was already out on her boat.

After making coffee and taking it out onto Az's porch, he saw her boat still in the port with no sign of activity. He cocked his head, mentally going through a list of places she could be at.

His feet were heavy as he meandered down he dock. When he got closer to the large boat, he had arrived on the other day, he saw that the door on the uppermost floor wasn't closed all the way. Grumbling about how Joe would make a terrible captain, he lumbered aboard to take care of it.

After closing the first door, Rich did a quick sweep of the other areas to make sure everything was good to go to take Joe and Ben back out on the boat today. If Joe could stomach being on a boat after drinking so much. As he reached the floor by the uppermost deck he saw the bedroom door open at the end of the floor with light coming through it.

He crept closer and peered through the crack. He saw Az and Ben, both sound asleep, Az curled up into Ben's chest, Ben's arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

Rich slapped a hand over his mouth and sprinted back to Az's apartment, pumping his fist the whole way.

He quickly dug his phone out of the recliner cushions and texted Lop a million exclamation points, peach emojis and eggplant emojis.

Almost immediately Lop texted back, "I fucking knew it."

Rich laughed as he crept back downstairs, leaving the lovers to wake up in each others arms and to thank their lucky star.

#ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy one shot #ben hardy smut #joe mazzello #original character #OC #original female character #original male character #ben jones fic #ben hardy fic #ben jones smut #ben jones oneshot #boats #i want a BF who sails so badly fuck #ben hardy x reader #ben jones x reader #joe mazzello fic

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thebeethathums · 6 years ago

Text

Observers - 39

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

A/n: I got really into this case guys... You don't even know. It was so trivial in my head and then all the sudden blam it turned into a really complex interconnected thing. Anyways... the two paintings are actually from the Musee d'Orsay have some links if you'd like:

Rouen Cathedral in Morning Light and La Seine à Port-Villez

John couldn’t help but grin as you literally danced into The National Gallery, giving a little twirl before letting out the most content sigh. You were a hard and incredibly devoted worker but he knew you hated that type of work, it made you feel boxed in, bored, and dull. For you, this was not only a moment of excitement but of much-needed freedom as well. Sherlock set a hand on your shoulder to reign you in before you wandered off down some hall and got lost. He got the feeling it would be hours before they found you again if that happened and a grateful look from John confirmed it as you wiggled a little under his hand.

They’d briefed you in the cab on the way over, explaining that they had identified the three people that were murdered as leading art experts all focused in the field of impressionism. Once they had done that, the note left with the bodies made sense and led them to a set of paintings by Monet on loan to The National Gallery by the Musée d'Orsay in Paris that included two newly discovered paintings that had been unveiled just months before. That’s where they were now- one of the five paintings was a fake, it was just a matter of determining which. You had protested to Sherlock that you were hardly an expert, sure Monet was one of your favorite artists and you were a painter but that didn’t mean you’d be able to spot the difference between a fake and the real deal, but for some reason, he insisted you look at them. Lestrade and the curator looked up when the three of you walked in, your eyes going wide as you looked around the room with a gleeful grin- so much better than being stuck in the café. Sherlock released you and you gave Lestrade a small, distracted wave as you moved past him to stand in front a painting you knew well, ignoring the conversation that had begun behind you. You tilted your head, letting your eyes wander over the pale blues and yellows of one of Monet’s many paintings of Rouen Cathedral, this particular one depicting the soft light of morning. It was one of your favorites. You would need to go over every inch of each painting to be absolutely certain of which was the fake so why not start here?

It had only been a few minutes when you were pulled from your study by raised voices behind you, the curator arguing loudly with Sherlock and Lestrade over your qualifications, or lack thereof, and without turning you snapped, “Either shut it or get the sod out. You’re messing with my concentration.” They fell silent and you went back to what you were doing before you were so rudely interrupted as John snickered, “I told you she’d notice.” Time passed slowly for Sherlock and the others as you spent hours in front of each painting, night slowly creeping in while you shifted from painting to painting, sometimes sitting on the floor but mostly just standing. By the time you got to the last two paintings, the curator had left, Lestrade had stepped out to get coffee and stretch his legs, and John was sitting against a wall, napping, next to Sherlock who was deep in thought with his hands folded under his chin. You gave a soft yawn and stretched your arms above your head as you moved to the last painting, the noise making both of their eyes snap open and Sherlock gestured for John to go get him some coffee. John opened his mouth to tell him to get it himself but Sherlock pressed a finger to his lips, his eyes flicking to you and back as John narrowed his own eyes at him in annoyance. He decided he could use some air anyways and got up to do as Sherlock wanted, leaving the two of you alone in the room. Sherlock went to you, wrapping his arms around your middle and resting his chin on your shoulder causing you to tense slightly but you didn’t push him away. The last week had been surprisingly hard on Sherlock, even when he was distracted by the case he found himself missing you. At first, it was just that he’d grown used to your presence and it threw him off a little that you were gone but as the week wore on he began to miss little things that he had never really thought about before. The sound of you humming as you made tea, the way your tongue peeked out of your mouth when your sketches got more detailed, the quick sarcastic comments that so easily mingled with his own- he missed it all. As annoying as it was, he found it interesting that he’d spent his entire life without you and now, after only a week of you being gone, he was miserable. Love was turning out to be a more complex emotion than he’d originally thought. You suddenly let out a sigh and your hand came up to tangle in his hair as you turned your head to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. He kept his arms around you but stood straight to let you turn and lean into his chest with another soft yawn as he thrummed, “What do you see?” A wave of disappointment washed over him when you pulled away and moved back to the third painting, The Seine at Port-Villez, standing in front of it for a moment before stating, “The logical choice would have been one of the two new pieces as they would be much easier to duplicate and switch out without someone noticing yet from what I can see there is nothing wrong with either of them. So that leaves the older pieces- I have seen these three works a number of times over the years, enough to know them well, and there’s something about this one that’s off... also, the more I think about it the more it’s the perfect piece for someone to switch out with a fake.” “Explain.” he murmured as he wound around you from behind again, this time with his cheek against the top of your head. “It’s well known but not as popular as say... his lily pads, medium sized so not as carefully scrutinized as something smaller or as time-consuming as something bigger, and conservatively worth over ten million on the black market.” You stepped away from him again, moving so you were just inches from the canvas before giving a soft hum, “This one is a fake and... I know who painted it.” “You do?” John’s voice rang out behind the two of you as he walked in, just in time to hear your statement but miss the moment of affection from Sherlock, and you spun to nod, “I almost missed it… it’s been a while since I’ve seen one of his paintings, but hidden in one of the trees in a clever shade of muted green is his signature, just two letters-TA for Timothy Ares.” “Timothy Ares…” Sherlock said the name as if he was trying to deduce something about its owner simply from what he was called and John came over to press a very welcome cup of tea into your hands, “How do you know him, Squeak?” You plopped down cross-legged on the floor, giving your legs a rest as you sipped at your tea, “He was one of my flatmates when I first moved to Montmartre, we shared a studio for a bit too. You met him when you came to visit once… kind of a lanky bloke with a shock of chestnut hair that flopped over one eye- if memory serves it was flecked with streaks of white when you saw him.” John was looking to the ceiling in thought and then nodded with a chuckle, “Oh! I remember him… he’s the one who got caught by the authorities in only his pink pants when you broke into that pool in the middle of the night.” “That would be the one,” you confirmed, giving a little laugh at the memory.

After a moment of thought, you looked up at Sherlock, who was standing with his eyes closed, and firmly stated, “He wouldn’t do this. Not unprovoked. He has great respect for the work of others.”

“Do you still have contact with him?” John wondered aloud.

“I do.”

“Call him.” Sherlock demanded and you shook your head, “I can do you one better. He’s in London. Phoned me two days ago to see if we could meet up but I was busy so he told me where he was staying in case I had some free time.”

Sherlock abruptly stalked out and you and John exchanged a glance, scrambling to catch up with him after he poked his head back in and called, “Don’t laze about.”

Tags <3:

@team-free-sherlock @multifandom-ramblings @madshelily @severusminerva @yes-but-theyre-my-dorks @smitemewiththysherlock @not-fandom-addicted @unknownwonder @deducingdevil @aviien @mrsfrankensteinsworld @lolamurphy @bakerstreethound @musical-doll-x @protectteamfreewill @delightful-pirate

@lilcutekittykat

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blackhound14 · 6 years ago

Text

Paint it Red. Chapter 2

I thought all that mattered was my work, but sometimes the world isn't just black or white, sometimes it's a whole spectra of colors. Love, I learned, is the most perplexing of all colors.

I hoped that I never learned that.

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chapter 1

chapter 3

Chapter 2: Get the Coffee and the Lead.

I have been to several crime scenes over the last few years; first when I was a rookie, working under my adoptive father, Hank, and then when I was promoted to the post of a Lieutenant. I have interrogated more suspects than the amount of people I have, informally, ever spoken to. Never, in the past seven years of my services to the DPD, have I ever encountered such a troublesome investigation.

The man, Markus, nods towards Jerry and motions me to follow.

We enter another room at the back, filled with what I can only describe as more colors. By the looks of it, this place was probably the store room. I look around curiously, as it was just my second nature by this point. There were empty canvases of varying sizes, lined up neatly in the side and boxes full of brand new brushes. I never knew that brushes could have so many variations.

I hear Markus clear his throat in an attempt to gain my attention, “So, how may I help you, Lieutenant?”

Shit! Even his voice is silky smooth, with a honeyed tone, that I want to do nothing but relish in its sweetness. It had a calming feel to it. How does his laugh sound like, I wonder? How would those lips taste, similar to salt and caramel perhaps? Just like the tint of his sun-kissed skin. I snap out of my nanosecond of distraction and muster up my ability to make full coherent words, one skill of mine that I’m not particularly too proud of.

“I am looking for details regarding a certain type of paint.” I hand him the paint sample, “Do you know of anyone who buys it regularly?”

He shook his head, repeating what Jerry explained earlier about not having the shade for sale. “If you require, I can try to get the same shade of color and then match them with the purchases. However, there are different methods of getting a particular color, so there will be many combinations. I am an artist and I am sure that you will find my services useful.”, he winked.

Calm down and do not stutter. You hear me, Connor?!

I must decline, getting civilians dragged into this mess will only create more problems. And unhealthy distractions. But I need help and this man seems to be the only one that will help me accomplish my mission. I reluctantly agreed. I managed to exchange numbers without much stuttering and making a fool out of myself, so that one good thing.

I walk into the office and make my way to the cafeteria, or the break-room as it is so inconveniently named, to get a cup of coffee. I see Hank, going through some of his case files, from the corner of my eyes. Even at this age, his passion for the job remains undefeated. He was still great at his work as I first worked under him for about eight years and the man didn’t care about relations when it came to the office. ‘I am not your father here, Connor. I am your superior and you call me Lieutenant.’

I couldn’t help but smile at those memories. And now he asks me to call him dad. Hank’s some hard nut to crack, but worth it. No matter how solid of a shell he has, he is still a big-big softy that cries during rom-coms, sleeps while snuggling to a teddy-bear like dog and most importantly, will do anything to keep his small family safe.

I then come face to face with the man I absolutely loath. Gavin Reed. It is still morning and I do not have the willpower to deal with a self-centered moron because, god forbid, this time I might be the one to pull up my sleeve and throw a punch. And I haven’t even taken my coffee yet, making this situation even worse.

He’s a man that has everyone on edge, being incredibly disrespectful and violent. His frame is a little similar to mine, but a tad bit broad. His face has a sharp jawline with a light stubble and light colored eyes. I might even call him ruggedly handsome if his lips, whenever I’m graced with, aren’t always curled up in a nasty snarl or busy making a pathetic statement.

“If it isn’t, Lieutenant Anderson the junior! Seems like you overslept, it’s almost noon. Maybe you were too busy riding daddy’s coattails! Hah!”

As I said, pathetic. Why the hell Captain Fowler hasn’t fired him is beyond my comprehension. I ignore his remarks and continue making myself my drink, as I find that replying back to him is an utter waste of my time. I hear him groan, but don’t turn around because I know what was to follow. I quickly grab my hot coffee and accidentallyspill it over his face.

For a second there was pin drop silence, except the screams of the detective and an occasional curse directed at me. He tried to grabbed me by my collar, but a quickstep and all he held was air. “I will fucking kill you, dipshit! Your daddy’s ain’t gonna save you now, asshole!”

He threw another punch which I easily blocked, I then grabbed that arm and twisted him till his back was against me and the other arm locked. “It is not good to fight, detective. I know your dad might have not taught you manners, but at least follow the rules if you do not want to get fired. It would be very disappointing if our bromance ended so soon.” I then push him away and give him a heartfelt smile.

Before he could cause anymore damage, Tina dragged him away to clean up that mess over his face. “Have a good day, detective.” Now that that’s dealt with, I better get back to work.

I make a new cup of coffee and leave for my desk, which is still the one adjacent to Hank’s. He doesn’t notice me at first, preoccupied going over his documents. I peaked and read the name of the file, ‘Child Kidnapping’. The case Hank was assigned just a couple of weeks ago. I remember going through the file once.

“Is something wrong, Hank? You have been going through that file since I came into the office”

He almost jumped off his seat, “Jeez, Connor! At least let the old man know you’re here.” he huffed, “Anyway, remember this case I was telling you about, it’s been closed.”

“Closed?” my eyes narrowed, “But why? It’s hasn’t even been a month.”

“That’s not the reason. The children, the ones that were captured, miraculously returned home one day. On their own, might I add.”

“All of them? How is that possible?”

“No. Not all of them. But the ones that did, say that some guy saved them. Weird. I said that we should investigate, but Fowler disagreed! Oh, and there are some reports Chris left for you.”

“Have to be the forensics report from last night. I’ll take a look at it.”

I open the report and just as I suspected, Caiden Huffman’s basement acted as a torture room for children and he was illegally selling child organs. That wasn’t the only part, the lab also analyzed the fingerprints present on the crime-scene and gave the list of people to whom the prints belong to. I went through the entire report and I couldn't help but feel that there’s something missing. Where did thesechildren go?

“Hank, can I take a look at your file, the one that got closed?”

He looked at me incredulously, “Why? You got a lead on my case?”

“Maybe.”, he handed me the case file. The names matched. “The names of the children are the same. The cases are linked. How many children were reported to have returned to their families?”

“Oh my god! Three. These are the ones. But we cannot interrogate children! Fuck knows what happened to them.”

Three children escaped. “But we have to try, this is my only lead, Hank!”

Name: Trevor Norris

Age: 10

Date Reported Missing: 25 May 2018

Last Seen Location: Pirate’s Cove Amusement Park

Date of Return: 30 May 2018

Name: Sean Woods

Age: 9

Date Reported Missing: 25 May 2018

Last Seen Location: Pirate’s Cove Amusement Park

Date of Return: 30 May 2018

Name: Alice Chapman

Age: 9

Date Reported Missing: 25 May 2018

Last Seen Location: Pirate’s Cove Amusement Park

Date of Return: 30 May 2018

Caiden worked at an amusement park, his shift was from four to nine in the evening. That’s when the parks are the most crowded. “It is the second of June today. Caiden was killed on 31st of May and his body was found today at two in the morning. He was most likely a mascot as he was was able to grab a child’s attention easily. He’d then make sure that the parents lost sight of their child midst the crowd and then manipulated them into going with him. Maybe by making them think that he’d help them find their parents.”

Hank grimaced, “I suspected that the kidnapper was one of the workers, but we went through all the cameras and we found nothing in the recordings, that backed up my suspicion. Only a worker would know the locations of the security cameras and know how to hide from them. The place has a total of ten-thousand employees. We weren’t even given enough time till the case was declared close.”

He claimed the lives of eight children within a month. The kidnapper was then mysteriously killed in his own home. I need to talk to these kids and find out all I can. “We leave after lunch.”

It is long past five and we have learned nothing new. No parent wants to expose their child to the traumatizing memories of the past few days, when they were held captive in that dungeon-isque place. I do not disagree, but I need to know something!

The first couple declined to let us speak to the child. Which is understandable, still we tried to convince them that it was for a case but to no avail.

The second couple, albeit a bit wary, guided us to their son. He hadn’t even left his room since he returned, according to his parents. We tried asking him a few questions, in the presence of Mr. and Mrs. Woods, but he was too scared to talk, might as well talk to a brick wall.

“You are Sean, am I right? My name is Connor and this”, I pointed towards Hank, “is my father.”

No reply. I look around the room, trying the figure out more about the boy. In the corner, laid a stringed instrument and the place was littered with basic-level music sheets, a football and a dog’s plushy.

“You are nine years old, correct? Do you like to play the cello? I can see some of your music sheets. Cellos are very soothing.”

No reply.

“Do you like to play any sport, such as football?”

No reply.

“You know, I have a dog at home. A St. Bernard and his name is Sumo. He is huge! But not frightening at all, he’s just a softy that wouldn’t even harm a burglar.”

And as expected. No reply. There has to be a way! Then a small noise caught my attention, finally. But to my horror, instead of Sean opening up about the crime, he began to cry. His parents intervened and bitterly, ordered us to leave.

Disappointed, we leave the residence and get in the car. “Do you think that we’ll find something in the next place, Hank?”

He glanced at me, “Well, they do say that the third time’s a charm. Wouldn’t hurt to try our luck, huh?”

I hummed in agreement. Maybe we will.

“So, you never told me that you would be late to office today.” he questioned as I began to drive.

“I went to an art shop for investigation. A man named Markus, who’s also the owner, volunteered to help me out.”

He hummed, “You are leaving something out, Connor. Something happened!” he said with that twinkle in his eye and a sly smirk, “I can hear it in your voice.”

“What? Nothing else happened! Just thought that he was unbelievably handsome and has a great voice.” I stuttered.

“Aha! So something did happen. You have a crush, son!” he laughed that only seemed to ruffle me up, “Now you are blushing! Oh god!”

“Why do I share everything with you? It is just an infatuation. Please, drop this line of conversation now, dad” I say pleadingly and he chortled but listened.

“Ya know, Connor, it’s high time you found someone to spend your life with. I am getting old, I need to have some grand-kids. Are you gonna deprive your old man of this?”

“Dad, I know you are worried about my non-existing love life, but I will when I am ready. Besides, Cole still acts like a five year old and he already has a girlfriend. How about you ask him for grandchildren.”

Hank’s eyes popped out in surprise, “Cole has a girlfriend?! And he never told me!” I do not reply and continue to chuckle, “Hey, Connor! Tell me, how is she? How did they meet? Is she pretty? Connor? Say something, goddammit!”

The residence of the third child was thirty minutes away, and all I could hope for was the child to say something as I waited for someone to answer the bell. A few moments later I could hear the clicking noise of the door being unlocked and it opened to reveal a woman. The woman had short, light brown hair and pale skin. She had blue eyes, some freckles and a sharp jawline. She’s really pretty.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Good evening, Mrs. Chapman. My name is Connor and this is my partner, Hank. We are from the DPD, we would like to have a talk, if that is alright?”

She remained silent for a few seconds, unsure of what to do. Hank cleared his throat and that caught her attention.

“Yes. Do come in. And please, call me Kara.”

She tells us to get comfortable while she brings us some coffee.

“How may I help you, officers?” she asks.

“We are here regarding your daughter, Alice. We got the news that she returned on her own a few days ago after she was… captured. I would like to ask you and Alice a few questions, if that is alright with you.”

She looked around hesitantly, definitely not wanting to speak about it and absolutely not wanting to call Alice. “I know that this is very important to your investigation, but I am afraid that I cannot help you. She doesn’t leave her room, she cannot sleep and when she does she always wakes up screaming. I do not want her to go through those memories again. As a mother, I just want her to forget and move on. I hope you understand.”

I take a deep breath, “The kidnapper has been killed, Kara. The killer, I suspect, is the one that saved your child. All we want to know is, who was the one who saved them. Their looks, their clothing, anything. You can stay in the room with us. We will not ask anything that will harm your daughter anymore. Just give us a few minutes, Kara.”

I hear footsteps and a new voice spoke, “If someone did kill that kidnapper, maybe he did the right thing. He did more than what the police did anyways, why would I help you find the person that saved my daughter?”

That had to be Alice’s father. He was very tall, with dark skin and dark hair with a military cut. An impressive figure.

“Mr. Chapman, killing is a crime, done for whatever reason. Capturing such assholes is our job.” Hank replied.

Before the taller man could say anything else, Kara intervened, she held his palm in her own and looked him in his eyes, “Luther, they are just doing their job. We should allow them to speak to Alice, just for few minutes. We’ll be there with her.”

Luther reluctantly allowed, but not without a warning, and motioned us to follow. The door to her room opened and Alice was silently reading a story book. The moment she notices us, she tries to hide inside her blanket.

“Alice, this is Connor and Hank. They are your friends and they wanna talk to you.” Kara reassures while sitting next to her. “Think you can answer some questions?”

Alice gives a small nod, and I smile. “Hello, Alice. How are you?”

“I am fine, I think. But I am also scared.”

“I know. You like reading books?”, I read the title, “Alice in wonderland? It is an amazing story.” she doesn't reply. I haven't ever read the book, but I know a little about it thanks to the movie’s promotions, “So, I heard that you met the Mad-Hatter.”

The girl was puzzled, “I did not meet him, he is not real.”

“But you did. The person that saved you from the bad man. The Mad-Hatter must have saved Alice sometimes. So, let’s call them, the Mad-Hatter because they saved you. What can you tell me about them?”

She looked at her mother who just nodded in return, “I do not know. He was wearing dark clothes and his face was covered. He saved me from that place and the other two took me back to mom and dad. A boy and a girl.” a few stray tear drops fell from her brown eyes. Kara hugged her and kept her close. “He said that we were free now.”

I glanced towards Luther, “We didn’t see them. They left before we could thank them. That is all.”

I and Hank left after saying our goodbyes to Alice and her parents. Emotionless, I stare right ahead, conflicted.

“Look at the bright side. Now we are certain that your killer is a male and that he is not alone. It is a group of three.” Hank said, trying to make me feel better and it did, but I just felt at lost.

What do I do now?

A buzz grabbed my attention. I received a message.

From: Markus

I have found something. You might wanna have a look! Maybe come over tomorrow?

“What is this? I’m the one that says the good things but when someone else messages you, you beam like the goddamn sun?! Is it that Marcus guy?”

“It is Markus, Hank.”

“Oh! I didn’t know you were dating already. Whatever, just send me the wedding date!”

“Very funny, Hank. Look I am laughing. HAHAHAH” I said unimpressed, but my face was flushed red and Hank was having the time of his life.

“And by the way, you have never read ‘Alice in Wonderland’, have you?” and he just laughed more.

#connor x markus #detroit become human #DBH #hank #connor #markus #kara

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terreisa · 7 years ago

Text

The Savior and The Scoundrel: Risk to Exist

Emma has had a few titles attributed to her in her life: princess, captain, pirate but none sat so heavily on her shoulders as Savior. When fate forces her to step into the role prophesied before her birth the only saving she wants to do is to bring back the man she loves. Fulfilling the Prophecy along the way is an additional reward. Sequel to A Crown and A Captain.

Prologue, Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12

ff.net, AO3

Emma stared dully out the window of Walsh’s car as he droned on and on about various buildings and locations dotted around Storybrooke. When she had been led out of Sunset Storybrook she had been all but certain that Walsh was going to take her straight to Zelena. What she hadn’t realized was that Walsh had seemingly only been told to find the strangers in town, not what to do with them once he did. At first she had tried to figure out how to use his naivete to her advantage but after slowly moving down seemingly every roadway within the borders of the town she was merely trying to continue the charade of being interested in what he had to say.

“And this is the Sheriff’s Station where I and my deputy slog away the hours,” Walsh said jovially as he brought the car to a stop in front of a two story brick building. He undid the straps that ran over his torso and lap, “Come on inside, I’m sure there’s still a donut or two left and our coffee’s much better than the sludge at Granny’s. I bought us a Keurig last quarter.”

“Sure,” she said with a shrug, knowing she had no choice in the matter.

She carefully undid her straps the way she’d seen Walsh do his. When it furled successfully back into place she silently sighed in relief. Vaguely remembering how Killian had let her out of his car she grasped the only metal handle she could see and was rewarded with the dull click of the door unlatching. They were small victories but she would take anything she could get when she felt like she was walking towards a hangman’s noose.

“The original jailhouse was built on this site only a year after Storybrooke was founded in 1838 and was used up until it was destroyed in a fire in 1933,” Walsh began as soon as closed the car door behind her. He motioned for her to walk beside him, “The second jail lasted less than forty years, it was a hurricane that time, and the city council decided the next building should be able to withstand pretty much anything. This is that building.”

“It’s very, um…”

“Dated, I know,” Walsh chuckled, opening a glass door and ushering her inside. “We’ve had issues with the plumbing and a seriously leaky roof. Don’t get me started on all the electrical problems we’ve had. It’s a nightmare trying to run the copier when both I and my deputy are here.”

She gave him what she hoped was an interested hum, glancing around herself in real curiosity. It was stark, almost imposing in it’s lack of character and with an eerie quiet within its walls that she wondered if the people jailed there simply went mad within a few hours of their confinement. Even the sound of their footsteps and Walsh’s voice sounded muted as they walked deeper into the building.

They ended up in a large open room with two barred cells on one end, a smaller room with glass walls on the other, and two desks pushed up against each other in between. Sitting at one of the desks, his feet perched atop as he leaned back precariously, was Robin. Emma sucked in a breath in surprise and Walsh looked at her sharply.

“Is there a problem?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

“No,” she said with a stuttered laugh, playing into being caught off-guard. She waved her hand at the room around her as she furiously tried to remember Robin’s cursed name, “I wasn’t expecting it to look quite like this or that I’d be seeing Deputy, um-”

“Archer, ma’am,” Robin said with a wide smile, dropping his feet to the ground with a thump and standing, offering her his hand to shake. “I haven’t seen much of you around since that day at the docks. I hope Mr. Jones hasn’t been taking up too much of your time.”

She tried not to grimace at his accusatory tone as she gave his hand a perfunctory shake, letting go quickly, “Kieran has been nice enough to show me a few places but I’ve also had the chance to look around for myself. Although, nothing quite compares to the in-depth roundabout tour I just received from Sheriff Baum.”

Robin burst out into surprised laughter while Walsh frowned slightly. Emma was slightly worried that she’d pay for her comment later but with Robin still laughing she didn’t want to think about it until she had to. It was clear that while Walsh held the power in the room Robin didn’t hold much stock in it.

“Did he take you all the way out to the Wishing Well?” Robin asked in a conspiratorial tone. He leaned closer to her, keeping his humor filled blue eyes on Walsh, “Rumor is if you make your wish politely it will come true within five to ten business days.”

“Ha, ha. Don’t you have paperwork to finish up?” Walsh asked dryly. He stalked over to a table with various cups, a black and silver contraption that he began fiddling with and a bright pink box on it, “Do you prefer dark or medium roast?”

“Uh-” Emma looked confusedly at Robin who merely shrugged back at her, “I don’t really know the difference?”

“Neither do I so you’re in good company here. At least he didn’t offer you the french roast, bloody awful it is,” Robin said with an exaggerated shudder, sitting back down at the desk.

“Paperwork, Archer,” Walsh said shortly, placing a cup in the contraption and turning back to them. “We have some time to kill before Mayor Viridans joins us so why don’t you go ahead and have a seat in my office and I’ll be in shortly with your coffee and one of these donuts.”

Her stomach dropped. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Robin looking at her with shocked puzzlement. It was clear that neither of the men knew why Zelena wanted to speak to her. She had no doubt that if Zelena had been informed that the stranger in town they were keeping under close watch was her that the witch would have already been waiting impatiently for their arrival. She took little comfort in the further delay of their confrontation.

“Why would the mayor want to see me?” Emma asked, keeping her tone curious.

“You must either be really important or a real trouble maker. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Viridans in here, even when we broke up that smuggli-”

“That’s enough, Archer!” Walsh snapped at Robin, his eyes flashing in anger. He took a deep breath and looked back at her, “Eva, excuse us, I need to have a word with my deputy. And if you’d close the door please?”

She looked at Robin who gave her a commiserating shrug and an unworried smile. Reluctantly she walked into the small glass walled room and shut the door behind her. Walsh watched her for a moment before turning to Robin and began speaking in a low tone ensuring she couldn’t hear them.

Watching closely through the glass she could see that Walsh was nervous. He kept shifting from foot to foot and running his hands through his hair. Every so often he would dart a glance towards where they’d entered before checking on her once more. She did her best to look uninterested when he did. The most telling, however, was the change that overtook Robin. He went from smiling to frowning to carefully sneaking glances at her almost as often as Walsh. Knowing she was pushing her luck she turned her back on them and sat down to wait for Walsh to join her.

She tried not to think about how much Robin’s opinion of her might have changed due to whatever it was Walsh had said. Instead her mind wandered to Killian, wondering if he’d found Turner and if they were currently forming a plan or if he’d ignored her pleas completely and was about to walk into the room in some attempt at rescuing her. As much as she hoped for the former she couldn’t help the small smile at the thought of the latter.

“Sorry ‘bout that.”

Emma jumped, so lost in her thoughts she hadn’t heard Walsh enter the office through a second door she hadn’t noticed. She silently scolded herself for letting her mind wander when she needed to pay attention the most. Walsh closed the door behind him, placing a cup of coffee and a round pastry with a hole in it on the desk in front of her.

“Thank you,” she said as she picked up the cup. She nodded her head back towards Robin, “I hope he’s not in trouble because of me.”

“Don’t worry, he’s not,” Walsh said with a false smile. “I wasn’t sure how you took your coffee but there’s sugar and creamer back on the table there.”

“This is fine-” she took a sip, not wanting to risk being cornered and questioned by Robin when she already had to contend with Walsh. She slipped back into her curious, unknowing guise, “You never said why the mayor wants to see me. I haven’t done anything wrong have I?”

“No, no, nothing like that-” Walsh’s eyes slid to the second door that he’d entered through, the one that opened to the hallway leading to the entrance of the building, “She’s just interested in meeting you. We don’t get very many visitors here and I think she might want to know what brought you to our town. To see if we can use it to boost our tourist draw.”

“Really?” Emma asked, trying not to scoff in disbelief.

“Of course,” he said with a nod, focusing back on her. “So what did bring you to Storybrooke?”

“Kieran asked me to help him with something,” she said, shrugging and taking another sip of her coffee. Walsh’s eye twitched and she kept a victorious smile off her face, “I just couldn’t say no.”

“And where exactly are you visiting from?”

“An off the map town far from here,” she answered vaguely, her feeling of victory souring in her stomach.

He hummed and leaned back in his chair, “But you didn’t come by car. At least I haven’t seen an out of state license plate driving down our streets lately. There’s also no bus route or train that makes a stop anywhere near here and the harbormaster hasn’t mentioned any unfamiliar boats floating around his harbor. So how exactly did you get here?”

“Kieran picked us up in Portland,” Emma said calmly, somehow remembering the place Pinocchio had mentioned earlier even as her thoughts were racing almost too fast for her to keep up with.

“Us?” Walsh leaned forward again, picking up the same kind of strange quill she’d used at the library and holding it tightly, his eyes eager.

She cursed herself but schooled her features into one of deep confusion and slight betrayal, “Why are you asking me all these questions? I’ve done nothing but come here to help a friend.”

“Yes, help him undermine an open investigation. So I’ve heard,” Walsh said gruffly, tapping the quill on the edge of the desk. “Did he tell you what happened?”

“His brother was killed,” she said slowly, realizing that was all that Killian had told her.

“He was,” Walsh said, a small vicious smile unfurling on his lips, “You see, we’ve had a bit of trouble with smugglers using our small town as a way station for their assorted goods. Thomas Jones just so happened to be their main contact, his job down at the docks giving him cover for being there at all hours along with knowledge of the harbor patrols and the habits of the others that worked there. A pretty sweet gig for a man who barely finished high school.

“Of course it’s only good as long as you don’t start putting your hand in the cookie jar. Word is a few things went missing here and there, payouts were short a couple hundred bucks, and it all seemed to point back to one man. We only have circumstantial evidence, nothing concrete enough to satisfy the younger Jones brother, but all signs point to Thomas Jones being killed by one of his more nefarious contacts.

“The kicker, which makes this so much more amusing, is that Kieran Jones is now believed to be working with that same smuggling ring. He’s seemed to convince himself that they have answers for him when we already have them here. So far all he’s gotten out of it is a missing hand and an arrest record that keeps growing.”

Emma was glad she hadn’t eaten the pastry that Walsh had brought her or really anything since she’d left Regina’s cottage earlier that day. She felt nauseous, not because of the accusations Walsh was making against Killian but by the lengths gone by both him and Zelena to make his life miserable. Swallowing thickly she hardened her resolve to break the curse as soon as possible, if only to end Killian’s suffering.

“Why are you telling me this?” Emma asked, setting her cup down so she wouldn’t be tempted to throw the still hot coffee in Walsh’s face.

“I just want you to be aware of the type of people you’re associating with and the illicit activities they’re involved in. Especially if you really are here to look into Thomas Jones’ death. Although now that I’ve warned you I’d have no choice but to arrest you as an accomplice if something were to happen while you were in Jones’ company,” Walsh said smugly. He sat back in his chair and gave her a contemplative look, “Then again we might be able to work something out. We’ve hit a bit of a snag in our investigation but if you were to let us know times where Jones disappears or heads down to the docks I might be willing to look the other way where you’re concerned.”

Her jaw dropped in disbelief. He was watching her, the smug smile still on his lips, seemingly confident that she would take his offer. She regretted setting down her coffee and it was only the thinly veiled threat against her and Killian that stayed her hand.

“Kieran asked me to come here because he knows that something isn’t right about what he was told about his brother’s death. Now I know what he means,” she grit out, gripping the armrests of her chair until her knuckles were white. “I’m not going to spy on him for you and I’m going to help him uncover the truth. Whatever it may be.”

Walsh looked almost disappointed in her answer but she could see the gleam of triumph in his eyes. They both jumped in surprise when the door Walsh had previously closed crashed open and Zelena was standing at the threshold. Emma noticed the color high on her cheeks, her green eyes glittering with malevolence but she did nothing more than stand there, staring at her.

“Ma- Madame Mayor, we, uh, didn’t expect you for another hour or so,” Walsh stuttered, tripping over his feet as he stood. “I was just telling Miss, er, that is to say Eva here about some of the things we do-”

“Get out,” Zelena said, cutting him off without looking at him.

“Madame Mayor?”

Zelena finally tore her gaze from her and fixed Walsh with one of displeasure and impatience, “I said get out, go somewhere that’s not here and stay there. And take your lackey with you. There are some things I’d like to discuss with Eva in private.”

“We can’t just leave the station unmanned!” Walsh gasped clearly taken off guard.

“I highly doubt the supposedly seedy underbelly of this town will know the difference,” Zelena scoffed. She stepped into the office, opening up the doorway, “Go.”

Walsh’s face was a ruddy with anger and humiliation. He shot her a look of disdain before storming out of the office, shouting at Robin to follow him. Emma watched his fit of pique with only a little amusement, knowing that once he was gone there would be nothing between her and Zelena’s wrath.

They stayed silent, waiting for the sounds of the men leaving to end. Emma was surprised to see that there were dark circles under Zelena’s eyes. Upon closer inspection she noticed that her clothing was slightly rumpled while her striking red hair was hanging in limp curls over her shoulders. She felt a zing of vindictive triumph that she was at least holding herself together marginally better than the woman in front of her.

“I think I liked him better as a winged monkey,” Zelena sighed. She turned, fixing her with a malignant stare, “I also liked you better when you were merely looting my ships.”

“I can’t say the feeling’s mutual because I didn’t even know who the hell you were until that night at Regina’s palace,” Emma snarled, “I just have a pure hatred for you and what you’ve done.”

Zelena’s nostrils flared as she drew in a deep breath, “Oh, of that I have no doubt. Seen your precious prince yet? I have so enjoyed watching him bumble about this town trying to figure out who killed his so-called brother all while avoiding the woman who’s made him more miserable than even I could have predicted she would.”

Emma jumped up from her chair, “You bitch.”

“I prefer Wicked Witch but that’s neither here nor there,” Zelena said with a flippant wave of her hand. “Have a seat, we have some things to discuss.”

“I don’t want to discuss anything with you. I just want you to know that I’m going to break this curse and get everyone back where they belong.”

To her annoyance Zelena smiled, sitting down in the chair Walsh had occupied only moments before, “Sit down Princess, you’re going to want to hear what I have to say and once you have you’ll be just as keen as I am to keep this curse from being broken.”

“I doubt that,” she grumbled, reluctantly sitting back down and hating herself a bit for giving in so easily.

“Ah, but I have your attention and that’s really all I need,” Zelena trilled with a triumphant grin. She tilted her head to consider her, “How did you get here? I thought all the magic beans had been used or destroyed.”

“Not all of them,” she said grudgingly.

“Of course not-” Zelena sneered, “You hero types always find a way don’t you.”

“I had sufficient motivation.”

“That has been one of the few highlights in this wretched land, knowing that I had your prince under my heel, effectively throwing a wrench in your treacly romance. Not quite as satisfying as watching my sister flounder about this land in rags with everyone thinking she’s some mad hag but there was still some joy in it.”

Emma stood so quickly she knocked her chair over. Her hand flew to her side, fingers grabbing for the sword that wasn’t there. She was about to dive for the dagger in her boot when the sound of Zelena’s voice broke through her rage.

“Did you never wonder whose heart I used for the curse?”

“I assumed it was plucked out of the chest of one of your black knights or some innocent servant who wronged you in some tiny way,” Emma spit out.

“For the Dark Curse?” Zelena scoffed. “I knew you weren’t practiced in magic but I didn’t think you’d be so daft.”

“Say whatever it is you need to say or I’m leaving and the next time we cross paths I won’t be leaving my sword on the ship.”

“Ship? Are you joking? No, clearly you're not,” Zelena said with a roll of her eyes. “We’ll discuss the impracticality of that later. There's something I need to show you.”

Emma bit back a scream, “I thought you had to tell me something.”

“I do and I can say it just as well while we're walking-” Zelena stood and immediately walked out the door. Without looking back she called over her shoulder, “Come along, Princess, this is the only way you'll get the answers you so desperately want.”

She stayed stubbornly standing in the office until she heard the door of the station closing with a distant slam. It took a few deep breaths remembering why exactly she was there in the first place before she resigned herself to chasing after her. With a frustrated kick to the chair on the ground she stalked out of the office.

Zelena already had a considerable lead on her when she stepped out of the building. She refused to give her the satisfaction of forcing her to quicken her pace, ambling half a length behind her. Finally Zelena stopped, swinging around to face her with a snarl.

“Would you hurry it up? I have a meeting with the parks department at four.”

“Why should I? You're the one wasting my time!” Emma snapped, not caring who heard her.

“And if you hadn't dawdled you'd have some answers already,” Zelena huffed, quickly crossing the roadway as soon as she caught up. “It was always supposed to be me who cast the curse but the imp lied to me and chose my undeserving sister instead. She couldn't even go through with it! The weak willed bitch.

“When she failed to act I saw my opportunity. It was almost too easy to strike her down in her own palace and accomplish everything she'd ever failed at. What I failed to take into account was the unceasing determination you heroes have when you take up a cause.”

“You stole my kingdom, imprisoned my parents, killed hundreds of innocent people, including Killian's father and his best friend-” Emma seethed, barely keeping herself from reaching out to strangle the witch. “If you're looking for sympathy, then fuck you”

“Sympathy? Please-” Zelena scoffed without breaking her stride, “I’m trying to get you up to speed. I cast the curse to finally have my time without belittling myself by wearing that bitch’s face. But there was a cost.”

“A heart. I know,” Emma growled.

Zelena stopped suddenly in front of a door causing Emma to nearly walk into her. When she turned to look back at her she had something close to regret in her eyes, “The price to cast the curse was one I should have thought twice about paying.”

She had brought them to a shop that seemed to sell all manner of things. Emma looked up at the sign hanging over the door. She was unsure what a pawnbroker was but she had heard the name Mr. Gold from both Killian and Regina and knew he was a man of importance.

Just as she was about to ask who exactly Mr. Gold was in their land she noticed someone over Zelena’s shoulder, watching her from the side of the shop. She sighed quietly in relief when she realized it was Turner and had to bite the inside of her cheek against a laugh when Killian’s head popped around the corner too. Both were watching her with matching looks of concern but she could do nothing to signal that she was alright without tipping off Zelena to their presence.

“Word’s already gotten around that you’re here as some sort of private eye so if he asks keep up that ridiculous lie,” Zelena said with barely concealed disdain. She put her hand on the doorknob and fixed her with a narrowed glare, “Whatever you do don’t answer any question that requires more than three words to answer. We can at least keep the damage to a minimum that way.”

Zelena turned to push open the door causing Turner and Killian to quickly disappear around the corner again. She held the door open expectantly and Emma had no choice but to follow her in without pause. Her only solace was that Killian had done as she asked and it gave her a glimmer of hope that breaking the curse might not be as difficult as she had been dreading.

The interior of the shop was dark from the dim shaft of light that streamed through dusty windows and the dark stained wood that lined the floors and walls. It took a moment for Emma’s eyes to adjust and when they did she couldn’t hide her astonishment.

Nearly every nook and cranny was filled with all manner of objects. There were several long encasements made of glass displaying more odds and ends along with a few more that stood upright spread throughout the shop. The walls were made of shelves to house more things and there were even items hanging from the ceiling. She was so enthralled by the sheer number of oddities that she didn’t notice there was a man behind one of the glass encasements until he moved out from behind it.

He walked with a pronounced limp, using a cane to keep his balance as he approached them. Emma observed him curiously. He was older than her parents, thin in build with light brown hair that hung loose about his face. There was nothing remarkable about him except for his eyes, they somehow seemed to gleam in the gloom of the shop. Even before anyone uttered his name she knew the man was Mr. Gold but she couldn’t recall ever meeting him back in their land.

“Afternoon Madame Mayor,” he said in an accent that somehow sounded like it was from everywhere and nowhere at once. His glittering eyes flitted to her before settling back on Zelena, “I’m afraid the object you’re interested in is still not for sale. Bringing in someone else to try and negotiate that point won’t change my mind.”

“I’m not here for that ostentatious bauble,” Zelena huffed, waving her hand as though she didn’t care but Emma had seen a vein in her temple throb. She sniffed and nodded at her, “This is Eva. Eva this is Mr. Gold.”

“Ah, one of the newcomers that has the authorities in this town in an uproar,” Gold said with a smile, revealing a single golden tooth. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, dearie.”

Emma felt a cold chill run down her back at the endearment. It pulled at something in her memories, something dark and foreboding. Before she had a chance to grasp at what it could be it danced away from her. She felt unsettled and gave Gold a tremulous smile that she hoped would suffice as a greeting.

“If you’re not here about the necklace may I ask why you are here? It’s the beginning of the month and there are still rents I need to collect,” Gold said a bit impatiently, an expectant look on his face.

“Eva is working on a pet project, you might say,” Zelena said as she walked slowly around the shop. She stopped in front of an encasement that appeared to have a sword inside, “Eva?”

“Oh, uh-” Emma rocked back on her heels, unsure what to say when Zelena had instructed her not to utter more than a sentence. A sudden wave of nervousness overcame her as Gold regarded her closely, “Is there, er, anything you might know about Tommy Jones’ death?”

Gold’s eyes widened slightly, as though he had expected a different question from her. He smiled again but there was a sinister edge to it, “Thomas Jones was a blight on this town and while his death was unfortunate there are not many who were sorry to see him pass. Unfortunately his foolish younger brother seems intent on not only pursuing innocent parties to blame for it but also straying down the same path that got Thomas killed in the first place. Take it from me, dearie, you should bury your questions with the dead before you end up six feet under as well.”

While Gold’s tone was one of caution Emma felt a sense of glee underlying his words. Her sense of unease only heightened as she tried to formulate any kind of adequate response as Gold watched her expectantly.

“I’ll take the risk if it means I can help Kieran finally learn the truth about what happened-” she turned and glared at Zelena, “No one deserves to be lied to like that.”

“I see you believe you have a measure of the situation, Miss-”

Emma looked back at Gold finding him looking at her with far more interest than he had before. She wasn’t certain but she thought she saw his eyes gleam yellow for a moment, disconcerting her even further.

“White,” she blurted out. Taking a deep breath to get ahold of herself she decided to attempt to gain back some iota of control that she had lost the moment Walsh had appeared at Sunset Storybrooke, “Are you suggesting that you know something?”

“I never implied anything of the sort,” Gold said pressing a hand to his chest, seemingly taken aback. He dropped the same hand on top of the one already holding his cane and leaned towards her to speak in a low tone, “It’s common knowledge that Thomas Jones was killed by men who have broken moral compasses. If they would do that to a man they knew and made deals with who knows what they would do to a stranger that pokes their nose where it doesn’t belong. I’m only thinking about your well-being, Miss White.”

“I can take care of myself well enough,” she said, lifting her chin and holding his gaze. “Do you or do you not know anything about Tommy Jones’ death?”

Gold’s lip twitched as he settled back on his heels, “I don’t know anything more than what was printed in the papers. The misters Jones were tenants of mine but other than collecting their rent I had no further interactions with them. Is that answer satisfactory enough?”

“It’ll do,” she sniffed.

Emma felt accomplished, even though she had done nothing more than stand up for herself. Zelena cleared her throat, causing both her and Gold to snap their attention to her. She had completely forgotten Zelena was there in her attempt to try and stay afloat under Gold’s scrutiny.

“I believe we’re done here,” Zelena said shortly. She looked at Gold with a sneer, “We don’t want to keep you from collecting your dues.”

“That attitude doesn’t do you any favors, dearie,” Gold tsked, limping back to the encasement he had been behind before. “Feel free to stop in if you have any other questions Miss White. You’ll find I’m quite agreeable when the mood suits me.”

She gave him a close lipped smile, pushing down the impulse to scoff at the idea that she’d ever return on her own. Zelena pushed past her and wrenched open the door, causing the bell attached to it to ring wildly. Rolling her eyes she turned to follow but stopped short when a glint of silver caught her eye.

Without a thought she drew closer to a small glass enclosed display of various pieces of jewelry. Sitting amongst the necklaces and bracelets of gold and pearls was a lone ring. It was finely crafted out of thin woven bands of both gold and silver. Emma didn’t need a closer look to know it was the ring she had made for Killian back in Arendelle. The one she had conjured out of thin air because she hadn’t known how to fully express what she felt for him, that he had worn on his left thumb from possibly the moment he had received it until Zelena had cut off the entire hand in a vicious act of petty revenge.

“Is this ring- how much for this ring?” She asked with a warble she didn’t have a hope to hide.

“Well, let’s see now,” Gold trilled as he made his way over. He opened the back of the display and pulled out the cushion the ring was sitting on, “Lovely piece, clearly unique and possibly handmade, I couldn’t possibly let it go for less than three hundred dollars.”

She didn’t know if it was a fair price or not and she didn’t care. Ignoring the tapping of Zelena’s foot by the door she reached into her coat and pulled out the small sack of gold coins she had with her.

“All I have are these-” she dumped the entire contents of the sack onto the glass counter, “You can have it all.”

There were at least thirty coins spread across the glass counter. It was a fortune back in their land, enough to feed a family for nearly a year. Zelena made choked noise behind her but she ignored it, focusing on Gold and the way his eyes raked over the bounty. He picked up a single coin and weighed it in his hand, bringing it up under his nose to inspect it closer.

“I’ll tell you what, Miss White-” Gold walked the coin over his knuckles and into his palm, gripping it in a tight fist. He smiled, his gold tooth flashing in the light, “I’m not going to take any of these for the ring. Just one of them is enough to pay for it three times over.”

“What do you want? Anything, it’s yours.”

“Em- Eva!” Zelena hissed. “Don’t offer him an open ended deal like that. He’ll only use it against you.”

“Now, now, Madame Mayor I believe the deal is between myself and Miss White. If you’d be so kind as to keep out of it,” Gold snapped, glaring at Zelena. He looked back at her with a predatory smile, “The ring is yours. All I want for it is a favor.”

“What kind of favor?” she asked warily, belatedly realizing that she had waded in too deep.

“Oh, that I don’t know quite yet-” Gold opened his fist and the coin was gone. He snapped the fingers of his other hand and the coin was there, her family crest gleaming up at her, “but when the time comes I expect you to comply, fully.”

Emma hesitated, trying in vain to remember who Gold could have been in Misthaven. Looking back down at the ring she decided she didn’t care. She knew that Killian deserved to have a piece of himself back, even if he had no recollection of what it meant to him or her.

“Okay,” she agreed, making sure to look him straight in the eye as she did.

“Excellent,” he grinned, dropping the coing in his hand onto the counter with the others. He deftly plucked the ring off its cushion and held it out to her, “I believe this is yours now.”

Her hand was steady as she held it out to him. Gold dropped it easily into her palm, watching her beadily as she slipped it onto the thumb of her right hand. It sat there loosely, twisting round and nearly slipping off her thumb as she began to scoop the pile of coins back into her sack. Clicking his tongue in impatience Gold pulled a simple golden chain from the display the ring had come from.

“Here, a little added gift-” he unclasped it and let it snake onto the counter amidst the few coins that remained. “No need to give it back once you’ve given the ring to whomever it’s intended for, of course. Consider it a signing bonus if you will.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

Ignoring Zelena’s scoff Emma delicately picked it up and slid the ring onto it. It took her a moment’s fumbling with numb fingers to work the clasp for herself to fasten it around her neck. The ring felt heavier than it should, as though the weight of her deal with Gold had somehow leaked into the gold and silver bands. She quickly dumped the rest of the coins in the sack and gave Gold a brief nod of farewell.

Before she could rush out the door he called after her, “I do hope to see you again, dearie. Perhaps with less of a hovering eye next time.”

Zelena growled low in her throat as she practically pushed Emma out the door. She blinked in the sunlight, bright after the dimness of the shop, as she slid the sack of coins back into the pocket they had been in before. Her fingers immediately went to worry at the ring hanging around her neck when she turned back to face Zelena, belatedly remembering that Turner and Killian were close by.

“Why did you bring me here? Who was that man back-”

“Not here,” Zelena hissed. She looked back and forth along the roadway before her gaze settled on something, “Follow me.”

She set off across the roadway, heedless to the cars passing by. Emma followed, wincing at the loud blare of noise coming from the cars in their wake. Looking quickly back behind her she saw Turner and Killian emerging from around the corner of Gold’s shop. She gave them a quick nod before focusing back on where Zelena was leading her.

They didn’t go far. Zelena hardly stopped as she wrenched open the door to the library, impatiently waving Emma inside. She caught a glimpse of Turner and Killian crossing the roadway before she stepped into the vestibule. Pinocchio was sitting behind the desk but stood up quickly when Zelena slammed the door shut behind her.

“Mayor Viridans! How can I hel-”

“Sit down and mind your own business Booth,” Zelena snapped. She stalked over to the large metal door Emma had noticed on her first visit, “This is between Miss White and I.”

“Miss White?” Pinocchio raised his brow at her and Emma could only shrug in response.

Zelena opened the door revealing a metal gate and a tiny room beyond it. Lifting the gate she ushered Emma in with a click of her tongue and another wave of her hand. She had never had a problem with confined spaces before but she still stepped into the room with hesitation, unwilling to be in such a small space with Zelena for company.

A shiver of warning slid down her spine as Zelena fiddled with a lever before slamming the gate down. Immediately the room moved and Emma backed into the corner, bracing herself against the walls.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake it’s just an elevator,” Zelena huffed, tapping her toe in irritation. “It’s taking us from one floor to another instead of bothering with stairs. God, I forgot how primitive the Enchanted Forest is.”

Before she could ask why Zelena had called their land the Enchanted Forest the room came to a stop. A set of doors slid open revealing a cavernous room with a twisting metal staircase leading to a landing under the backside of a clock face. As Zelena lifted the gate Emma noticed the cogs and gears of the clockworks suspended in the middle of the room. It was loud, almost deafening and she understood the reason Zelena had brought her there to talk.

“Are you finally going to give me some answers? Who was that man back in our land? What does he have to do with the Dark Curse?” Emma asked as she stepped into the room, once more fiddling with the ring.

“That thing you talked to back there isn’t a man. Not anymore,” Zelena muttered, barely loud enough to hear over the cacophony of sounds in the room as she stepped into it herself.

“What do you mean?”

“The Dark Curse is called that for a reason. You don’t cast it using rainbows and happy thoughts,” Zelena scoffed.

“I know that,” Emma bit out, fighting the urge to scream at the circles they were talking in. “You needed a heart.”

“Not just any heart,” Zelena’s annoyance dropped away immediately and she looked at Emma with sorrowful eyes. “You need the heart of the thing you love the most.”

“The thing… so you killed the thing you loved the most to get some kind of petty revenge? Guess Regina really does have a conscience if she couldn’t go through with it.”

“Would you stop being so goddamn glib for a second and listen!” Zelena screeched. She took a deep breath as she focused intently on her, “If Regina had cast the curse she would have had to kill her father to do it. I on the other hand loathed the man who raised me and resented the woman who birthed me. There was seemingly no one who came even close to fulfilling what was needed to cast the curse. That was until it was pointed out to me by my mentor that there was someone that I did love, him, and in nearly the same breath he told me he didn’t want anything to do with me, not if I would have to kill him to cast the curse.

“That was the whole point of him teaching me, molding me into the most powerful sorceress in the realms. He just needed someone to cast that damn curse to get him here, to the Land Without Magic. He chose Regina, spineless bitch that she is, when I was clearly the only one capable. I hated him with every fibre of my being for that. So when the time came I knew that the line between love and hate might be thin enough to work.”

The phrase pulled at Emma’s memories and she said slowly, “You said that, before. Before you crushed the heart, you said that.”

“I didn’t find out until we’d been here for a week what a grievous mistake I had made,” Zelena continued, ignoring her. “I saw him, limping down the street as though nothing had happened. He’s just as cursed as everyone else but I could see it. Deep in his eyes it’s there or should I say it isn’t there.”

“Zelena, who was he?” She asked impatiently, even as she was beginning to dread the answer.

“You haven’t figured it out by now?” Zelena asked with a hysterical giggle. “Who but the Dark One would know how to cast the Dark Curse and then manipulate others to do it for him? Who do you think is powerful enough to somehow still live despite his heart being crushed?”

“But… that’s-”

“Impossible? Not as much as you or I would think-” Zelena began to pace, “The only way I can figure it is Dark One has always been someone who was cursed with the Darkness, a mortal, but the Darkness itself is immortal. For centuries it’s slid from one host to another through the use of the Dagger to end the previous Dark One but it’s never been defeated, never killed. I didn’t use the Dagger, I merely crushed the heart of the man whose been playing its host. The Darkness is now the only thing in that body and the curse is the only thing keeping it from realizing it.”

A chill settled over Emma as the words sunk in. She had heard tales of the atrocities committed by the Dark One, not only from her own parents and the whispers of others but from numerous history books and old tales told over too many pints in taverns far from Misthaven. He had been imprisoned for the entirety of her life, captured through the machinations of Princess Ella and her parents. While she had never even seen a glimpse of him she had always been afraid of the possibility of him escaping his prison and exacting his revenge.

“So do you see why you can’t break the curse?”

“What?” Emma croaked out, shaking her head in confusion. “I’m going to break the curse.”

“If you break this curse you’ll be defeating me, yes, but you’ll be damning everyone and everything in the same moment,” Zelena said slowly, as though she were talking to a child. “The Dark One has always had a weakness and it was never the dagger that controls him, not entirely at least. The Darkness has been held in check by its vessel, the morality and conscience the person had before succumbing to it. Even the worst of them had some piece of it left or the passing of the Darkness from one person to another would have stopped at some point. If the curse is broken it will have nothing to hold it back, nothing to keep some kind of tenuous hold on it. It will destroy everything in this town before moving on to the world beyond and then finding a way to travel to other realms to do the same. It will never stop until it holds control over it all.”

Emma could barely hear Zelena over the buzzing in her ears. She felt lightheaded and gasped for air. Black spots danced in front of her as she bent forward, balancing herself with her hands on her knees. Slowly her head cleared and she straightened.

“You’re lying,” she panted.

“I assure you I’m not,” Zelena sighed. “You can ask Regina if you truly don’t believe me.”

She merely stared at her, willing her to take back everything she had said.

“Or don’t I really don’t care. Come along, Princess, I have a meeting to get to.”

The ride back down to the ground floor wasn’t as harrowing if only because her thoughts were decidedly focused on whether or not to believe what Zelena had told her. She stepped back into the vestibule feeling as though she had lived an entire lifetime in the room above. Pinocchio was fidgeting in front of his desk, his eyes shooting to the library beyond when he caught her gaze.

“Do you need anything Ma’am?” He asked, shifting from foot to foot.

“Of course not,” Zelena shot back. She looked back at her, “The decision is up to you, I won’t try to stop you. Oh and feel free to bring your… ship into the harbor. No need for such cloak and dagger now is there?”

Zelena swept out of the library, leaving Emma gaping behind her. She heard Pinocchio breathe a sigh of relief as he moved across the vestibule, closing up the small room once again. A hand landed on her shoulder causing her to jump in surprise.

“Easy, lass, it’s just us.”

She spun on her heel and saw that it was Killian, looking at her with concern. Turner was standing a few paces behind him, staring angrily at the door that Zelena had disappeared through.

“I- we have to go. Turner, we need to go. Now,” she rambled, avoiding Killian’s gaze.

“Of course-” Turner stepped around Killian and looked at her carefully. “Are you alright?”

“Fine, I’m fine. We need to go,” she repeated.

Turner nodded and she took in a shaky breath before turning to leave. She heard Pinocchio murmuring something to Killian behind her but paid them no attention. Her mind was still trying to comprehend everything that Zelena had told her and her only coherent thought was to get to Regina as quickly as possible.

She weaved through the town as quickly as she could without breaking into a panicked run. Turner was keeping pace behind her, quiet aside from the sound of his boots hitting the ground. They reached the woods quickly and Emma pushed on faster, single minded in her pursuit.

When she reached the cliff overlooking their cove she skidded to a stop, nearly tumbling over the edge. She was saved by a hand grabbing her elbow and when she turned to thank Turner she was caught off guard to see Killian there instead.

“Careful lass,” he said as he gently urged her to take a step back, “You mind telling me why you just tore through the town like the devil was at your heels?”

“What are you doing here?” She snapped, her tenuous control on her emotions at a breaking point.

“I-” he dropped her elbow, raising his eyebrows in surprise, “You just left, first with Baum and then you spend nearly an hour with the woman we’re trying to take down before taking off again. What happened? Why did she take you to the pawn shop?”

“She… I-” she looked helplessly at Turner who was at Killian’s side. The absurdity that she wanted to talk to him about what had happened and not Killian wasn’t lost on her. She took a deep breath and said as resolutely as she could, “You need to go.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s between me and my crew.”

“Then let me come aboard the ship. We’re supposed to be helping each other, right?” His eyebrows drew down as he looked at her more carefully. “Right?”

“I’m sorry but you have to go,” she said resolutely even as her voice started to tremble.

He narrowed his eyes and looked her over as though he would find something amiss. “What did she say to you?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly.

“You’re lying,” he said matter of factly. He stepped closer to her and said in a low voice, “You can trust me, lass.”

“Kil- Jones, I do but this… this is something I have to handle myself.”

“Just you and your ‘crew’, yeah?” Killian spat as the look in his eyes hardened to a glare and he took two steps back. “Whatever it was Viridans told you was a lie. I hope you realize that sooner rather than later and when you do I’ll be waiting.”

He gave her a hard grin that was more akin to a sneer before pivoting on his heel and stalking back the way they had come. Her hand found its way to his ring, gripping it tight enough in her fist that she was only marginally worried about drawing blood. She jumped slightly when Turner gently touched her elbow.

“What’s going on Emma?”

“Not here,” she whispered, fighting back tears.

She barely paid attention as they made their way back to the Jewel. It was well into dusk, the sky to the east already donning the dark blues of impending night. There was movement on deck and she hoped whomever it was would alert the others that they were back. What she had learned was horrible enough without having to repeat it more than once.

What little luck she had was on her side. Everyone was waiting expectantly with varying degrees of disapproval on their faces as she hoisted herself over the rail. As soon as both her feet were on the deck she crossed over to Regina.

“Who is Mr. Gold?”

“You sneak away at the crack of dawn like an impetuous teenager and that’s the first thing out of your mouth instead of an apology for stranding us here?” Regina snapped, setting her hands firmly on her hips. “Why the hell were you talking to him anyway? What happened this time that we’ll have to scramble to clean up after?”

“Dammit Regina!” Her frustrated shout echoed across the water. “Who is he? In our land, who is he?”

“Of course you wouldn’t know who he is. Your goody two shoes parents wouldn’t dream of taking you to see him,” Regina said derisively, rolling her eyes. “He’s the Dark One, Rumplestiltskin. Just traded one prison for another with the curse.”

“No-”

Emma felt her knees buckle and someone grabbed her elbow to steady her.

“It’s not like he knows who he is,” Regina scoffed. “I tested him one or two times and he’s just as cursed as everyone else. Which isn’t a shock, I would have done the same thing if I had cast the curse.”

“Maybe you should have,” Emma spat out.

Her temper was getting the better of her but she welcomed it. Anything was better than the despair that was cresting, ready to wash away everything else and leave her drowning in despair.

“Excuse me?” Regina said in shock, her hands falling off her hips in surprise.

“Maybe you should have cast the curse, crushed your father’s heart and been done with it! Then we wouldn’t be in this fucking mess!”

“Emma what are you talking about?” Grace asked, her face twisting into a look of concern.

“You need a heart-” Emma snarled, “but not just any heart, it has to be from the thing you love the most. Right Regina? Any guesses on who Zelena loved the most?”

“That’s- that’s impossible,” Regina stuttered, color draining from her face leaving her ashen. “She’s lying. It would have killed him. She has to be lying.”

“Can you think of anyone else who would have worked? Can you?” Emma challenged her. She felt wholly unlike herself but couldn’t seem to stop, “Maybe it should have been you. After all Zelena said the line between love and hate was pretty much nonexistent.”

“Emma!” Grace gasped.

“It can’t- she-” Regina stuttered into silence, her eyes wide with terror.

“I don’t understand-” Marty said slowly, looking around the deck in confusion. “What does it mean?”

Emma slumped, the fight and anger draining from her in an instant with the innocence of Marty’s question. All around her the others were slowly reaching the same terrifying conclusion. She could see it in the way they stood bowed by defeat, the look of horror in their eyes. When she spoke her voice was choked with the tears that had already begun coursing down her cheeks.

“It means we can never break the curse.”

For the first time she truly wished that the curse had taken her too. She knew it was the only way she wouldn’t have had to feel the utter devastation of her hopes and her heart shattering beyond repair.

If you’d like to be tagged so you don’t miss future chapters let me know.

Tagging: @teamhook, @galadriel26

#captain swan #cs ff #cs ff au #cs au ff #ouat au ff #savior and scoundrel

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iwaoiyoonminphan · 7 years ago

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JJP Fic Rec

hi! i love jaebum, jinyoung, and most importantly jjp so here’s a fic rec for the ship of the life

this is hardly a fraction of the quality jjp on ao3, but these are honestly my favourites and the ones i recommend the most! enjoy and join me in jjp hell

sfw (no smut)

1. (why dont you) speak it out loud by sevencm

complete/ post college au/ fluff/ 9k

“Imagine that A and B are dating, but person B doesn't voice their feelings much. One day person B is cursed/drinks a truth serum and has to say everything they think about out loud. Person B starts saying 'I love you' and other super cheesy shit to person A every five minutes. Person A enjoys it very much.”

thoughts: actually the cutest fic to ever exist! the characterization in this fic is so good and i reread it all the time^^

2. Falsettos, Stains, and Drama by jaenly

complete/ high school au/ fluff/ 9k

“It all starts when Jinyoung becomes Juliet Capulet.”

thoughts: ok so like jjp are both in drama club and they end up as romeo and Juliet. actually the cutest ever jaebum was so shy n bashful ///////// n jinyoung was dense as fuck, the ending made me smile so much!

3. look at me for a sec (don’t be too awkward) by turbrolence(shortiest)

complete/ hogwarts au/ fluff/ 10k

“in which a bludger shatters jinyoung's shoulder and jaebum ends up volunteering to feed him breakfast.“

thoughts: so cute!!!!!!!!!! jinyoung is dense as a brick and i loved his interactions with the side characters too, jaebum was s o chivalrous but also dorky and SO ENDEARING this fic makes me want to spontaneously combust honestly

4. Of douchebags and pretty boys by schoetheisrealaf

complete/ asshole au sorta/ fluff and humour/ 7k

“’Dear Dog Biscuit, Since you seem unable to understand the sign that clearly indicates that this parking space is to be exclusively used by the staff of this facility, I’ll kindly explain it to you again: Until you’re an employee of the state who works his ass off for society only to get shit wages and the worst working hours you CAN’T USE THIS PARKING LOT, SO FUCK OFF! Apart from that, have a nice day. PS.: I hope you don’t have sex for a year. :)’

You steal my parking spot all the time and I was just heading out to leave a strongly worded note under your windshield wiper but oh no you're hot AU Starring Jinyoung the kindergarten teacher and Jaebum the (arrogant yet dorky) business man“

thoughts: ok ok so this is so funny n also soft? jinyoung and kids makes me really happy and why is jaebum like this??? hilarious and also so cute rereading this is always fun!

5. opportunity cost by symmetrophic

complete/ corporate au/ fluff and humour/ 4k

“kim yugyeom, 25, is PA to park jinyoung, 29, feared ceo of park powers (this sounds marginally less ridiculous in korean). a lot more intellectually insulting and ghei than it sounds.”

thoughts: this fic is kind of yugyeom centric but its so funny and cute i just couldnt resist ukno!! jinyoung depends on yugyeom so much its cute and also jinyoung screaming over jaebum? the BEST

6. Always By My Side by bb_bambam

complete/ soulmates au/ fluff and angst/ 21k

“Soulmates!AU where after you meet your soulmate, you experience physical pain when you’re apart for more than 12 hours until you both acknowledge that you’re soulmates.Essentially, it takes Jinyoung and Jaebum way longer than it should have to figure out that they’re soulmates.“

thoughts: the softest soulmate au ever! i especially loved how it was set in canonverse bc the emotions were so real n pure! the au setting was very clear and jaebum made me ssso sad

7. Your Smile Is Sweeter Than (Hot) Chocolate by bb_bambam

complete/ coffee shop au/ fluff/ 12k

“Jaebum brings Youngjae to a coffee shop for some hot chocolate, and they end up getting Jinyoung instead.Basically, the jjp coffeeshop/kidfic mashup au no one asked for.“

thoughts: another one from the goddess herself! jinyoung is the best barista and single dad jaebum is so sweet n whipped i loved it so much its just tooth rotting fluff tbh and kid! youngjae im really about to SCRE AM

8. Topaz by setaxis

complete/ idol verse/ angst/ 6k

“Mark loves much the way he does everything else, quietly, unthinkingly. He doesn't know when he fell in love with Jackson. He doesn't think it matters much.

xxx

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.”

thoughts: ok this is the only main markson side jjp but i included it in this list bc jjp is pretty important here too and the angst hurts so much jaebum is so stupid and jinyoung hurts prepare to cry

nsfw (w/ smut)

1. Disappear Here by foxxing(gayfantasticfour)

complete/ detective au/ angst and mystery/ 70k

“Homicide detective Im Jaebum's career has been steady and his personal life mostly uneventful, until the morning officer Choi Youngjae wakes him up at 3am and he finds out his childhood best friend and ex-partner has been murdered. He takes the case only to watch everything he's ever known slip through his fingers like sand and to finally figure out that sometimes life is all about finding forgiveness.”

thoughts: this one was an emotional roller coaster! the plot was really intriguing and i cried so hard at the end. the writing was amazing too, as expected of the queen of jjp fanfiction

2. read you like a magazine by dollyeo

complete/ college au/ enemies to friends to lovers (!!)/ 42k

“Ever since Jaebum passed auditions and he didn't, Jinyoung's been hell-bent on hating the guy. Now that they're in uni together, it's like destiny is screwing up all of his plans.”

thoughts: theres no actual smut in this but theres other nsfw-ish content so read at your own risk! this fic has the perfect amount of angst and fluff and ENEMIES TO FRIENDS TO LOVERS AAAAAAA jinyoungs character development was super fascinating n jaebum was so whipped in this i love him

3. Citation by KingJackson

complete/ college au/ enemies to lovers/ 115k

“When the one book he needs for an important term paper has to remain in the campus library, Jinyoung catches the eye of Jaebum, a library assistant.”

thoughts: a fandom classic honestly! jinyoung is such a bitch but soft perfect jaebum loves him anyway its so angsty but also the best gghhhhhh check out the sequel renewal its also SO GOOD

4. A Certain Romance by foxxing(gayfantasticfour)

complete/ escort au?/ fluff/ 17k

“By day, he's a top-rated babysitter. By weekends he's an x-rated escort. These things are generally kept separate, until the day his weekend regular gets his phone number by recommendation and calls for an emergency babysitter. The problem is that Jaebum doesn't know that Junior the escort is also Jinyoung the babysitter.In which Jaebum and Jinyoung know each other in the biblical sense but maybe want to get to know each other, too.“

thoughts: also by the queen! jinyoung with kids is the bane of my existence tbh and kid! yugyeom gives me so much feelings bOI jaebum is kind of awkward in this but jinyoung still likes him hehehe i loved this SO MUCH

5. Compass Calling by sugarbowl

ongoing/ pirate au/ action and angst and fluff/ 65k rn

“Prince Jinyoung is destined for a lifetime of luxury, until he's shoved in a trunk and accidentally abducted. Im Jaebum clawed his way out of poverty to captain a pirate ship and... not much else, actually. Jinyoung could be his first real treasure, if Jaebum could just figure out how holding someone for ransom actually works.“

thoughts: cant believe this is the only fic on this list by god (actually just read sugarbowl’s entire ao3) this fic is so beautiful jaebum is kind of dorky and also really cool this fic had me at the edge of my seat all the time AMAZING

6. The Tiger & The Duke by foxxing(gayfantasticfour)

ongoing/ sugar daddy au/ angst/ 160k rn

“Im Jaebum is the richest man in the country under forty, content to mess around and skirt the headlines as a cutthroat businessman and casual playboy. Park Jinyoung is a graduated English Literature major, content with (in Jackson's words) his boring life working at a restaurant and writing poetry. When their worlds collide over a spilled cup of coffee, Jinyoung learns there's a lot more to life than the secrets of his past and the safety of library books.“

thoughts: another one... but this is so good ok at first i was kinda wary bc the ten year age gap but its not very important in the plot and nothing illegal happens lol jinyoung makes me want to PROTECT and jaebum is trying his best ok hes sO anyway its good and ill cry when it ends

7. muses by comingbackhometoyou

complete/ star trek au/ enemies to lovers/ 120k

“Your dad gave his life for-”

“Yeah, yeah I know,” Jaebum interrupts, voice ringing through the empty bar. “My dad gave his life for Starfleet and died with honors. I’ve heard this story a thousand times before. No offense, but why should it matter to me? Why are you here telling me what I’ve known since I was five years old?”

Jaebum has been running for 16 years when his past finally catches up with him.”

thoughts: this one doesnt have much smut i think just ALMOST smut but anyway i dont even like star trek but this made me so sad jjp love each other so much its beautiful and i love jinyoungs no-nonsense character its so funny and also heart wrenching i dont know this fic just hurts me its wonderful

i hope you liked my recommendations and enjoyed the fics as much as i did! the jjp fandom is honestly blessed by so many good writers so i hope you find more good work in the tags!!

#got7 fic rec #fic rec #my fic recs #jjp fic rec #jjp #jj project #park jinyoung #jinyoung #im jaebum #jb #jaebum #got7

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missmungoe · 7 years ago

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SHANTIES; REFRAIN // Shanks x Makino // I felt like writing sparring fic, so I wrote sparring fic. An addition to part 2 of Scylla, my pirate!Makino AU.

Modelled after their last, the new ship didn’t demand many changes to her daily routines, but for a creature of habit, even the smallest changes require some readjustment, and so it took time, getting properly acquainted with her new home.

Dark mahogany bleeding red when the sun caught in it, the veneer still fresh, she had few scars to speak of, the pale filigree of salt on the hull her only mark yet, given by a sea that seemed curiously reverent in its attentions; not a gentle lover by any means, but a doting one.

She sat on the waves differently than their old ship – with more ease, Shanks said, no old planks weary from sailing and long, hard years. And there was a spirit in the soul of her; a heart that saw challenge in traitorous straits, and that welcomed shifting currents with near-eager anticipation. Lithe and reckless, she cut the waves with serpentine grace, cresting the very largest with an impression of taking flight – a fitting illusion, the dragon figurehead arching with regal dignity, and just enough dramatic flair to suit her captain.

It took a little time, learning to know her; a little effort, to familiarise herself with her shape, and her temper. But as for loving her, it took no effort, Makino discovered – and no time at all.

There were other changes, too – their new quarters were bigger, although between the two of them they’d never needed much, but she appreciated the extra space, for the books that ten years had seen accumulate. And they got a bigger bunk, although it made no difference to Shanks, who claimed most of that, too – and her. And in that, at least, little had changed in ten years.

She woke before the sun, roused by habit. Once it had been necessary, when she’d had a bar to run, but necessity had long since eased into personal preference. She loved the atmosphere of the ship first thing in the morning, the new as much as their old; that pause for breath just before its heart stirred into waking, and the familiar pulse of noise and laughter drummed through the planks.

The naked body wrapped around her was warm and heavy with sleep, and the soft snores muffled against the crook of her neck tempted her to remain – to forget about her small routines, and let sleep lure her back. She did that, sometimes – spent an extra hour watching him sleep, too comfortable to be bothered with doing anything else. It was a pirate’s freedom, Makino supposed, to be allowed that leisure, if she so pleased. And no matter how many small things remained of the barmaid, ten years had long since made a pirate of her.

Her languid stretch saw him stirring, and a kiss against his shoulder marked her intention before she tried to shimmy out of his grip, but he just tightened his arm around her and rolled her over, tucking her against the wall as she muffled her laughter against his chest. “Shanks.”

A grunt was her answer, and she huffed, kissing until he yielded his grip enough for her to slip away, and she evaded the fingers reaching for her, laughter trailing soft and drowsy in her wake as she made to dress.

In answer – or cheeky retaliation; with him it could be either of the two – Shanks rolled over on his back, the whole bunk commandeered and the sheets kicked off, and she shook her head at the display as she made for the door, a murmur of grown man tucked under her breath that had him sticking his tongue out.

The morning was touched with a chill, a cold dampness in the air that promised rain, but she welcomed it with a deep breath as she stepped out of their cabin and onto the main deck.

As expected, the ship was quiet, and Makino greeted it with her own, fingers dancing along the railing as she made her way to the quarterdeck, feet bare on the planks and her sword in hand. She liked to do her morning stretches before breakfast, and the little exercises she’d worked into her daily routine, out under the open sky. By the time she was done, Ben would be up, and the promise of coffee put a skip in her step.

It didn’t take long to loosen the knots from her muscles – small aches that required only a little prodding before they yielded, easing with her stretches into a kinder ache, driven deep with her breaths. And it was easy to lose herself to the familiar movements, and the sea – a sharp cut of salt and cold in the air, and the vast weight of it beyond her mind, anchoring her senses where it stretched toward the horizon.

She lost track of how long she kept it up, but the sun had yet to rise when she caught the sound of a door opening, somewhere across the deck.

She felt him approaching, and turned, surprise making her brows lift, along with a smile, and she didn't bother trying to hide either as Shanks stepped onto the quarterdeck.

“You’re out of bed,” Makino blurted. She’d let her stance slip completely, stretches forgotten. “The sun isn’t even up yet.”

He was quick, stealing a kiss against her shoulder, the slip of skin bared by her shirt, and there was still the telling roughness of sleep in his voice when he rumbled, “You are.”

She tilted her head, feeling the tuck of his nose beneath her ear, and the grin that followed. He seemed cheerfully undaunted by the fact that she was covered in sweat. “That doesn’t usually stop you from sleeping in,” she pointed out.

“Maybe I felt like shaking things up,” Shanks countered, drawing back to look at her. “But speaking of uncharacteristic behaviour, you slept in just yesterday. Three whole hours, might I add.” He lifted his brows. “I thought you were sick.”

Like the look he gave her, the words were innocent, but his smile told her he knew exactly what had kept her in bed so long, and Makino poked him in the stomach. “I allow myself the occasional indulgence,” she said. Then, chin tilted cheekily, “And slip in judgement.”

“Oh, is that what I am?” Shanks mused. “Slip in judgement, huh? You know, your pet names could use some work. And for the record, you could do with sleeping in a little more often. It’s good for the soul.” He grinned, and chirped, “And for me. You know I miss you when you’re gone.”

“Hmm. I don’t know if I believe that, given that you take the chance to sleep spread-eagled.” At the wolfish smile that chased across his face, she added primly, “And at least one of us should be awake to make sure the ship stays afloat.”

“But that’s what we have Ben for,” Shanks told her patiently, and with only a hint of familiar glibness. “Although with how much you spoil him, he’s slacking off more and more. Then again, it might just be old age getting to him.” He frowned, as though in contemplation. “I can never be sure.”

It was her turn to stick her tongue out, and she reached to pinch his side, but he’d stepped out of her reach before she could, catching her hand to tug her close, and startling a laugh from her as she caught herself against him.

“So what about it, my early bird? A duel before breakfast?” he asked, that bright gleam of laughter in his eyes, now cleared of sleep.

Makino cocked her head, then said, slightly marvelling, “Married almost ten years, and I can never tell if you’re in earnest, or if you’re being suggestive.”

Shanks only grinned. “I’d be disappointed if you could. Or I’d have to up my game, at least.”

“As if you need an excuse for that,” she countered smoothly, and saw from the quality his smile took on, that he had a mind to prove her right.

But intentional ambiguity notwithstanding, she proffered Siren, the hilt resting in the cradle of her palm, and watched his grin widen as she tilted the tip at an almost lazy angle. Silver and sea-glass, the grey morning light softened the engravings on the blade, the waves bleeding into the steel, fogging with the chill from the sea.

His hand touched the pommel of his sword, and Makino was moving before she’d drawn her next breath, their blades meeting when it rushed out of her, and his laughter following at its heels, to brighten the morning with sound.

“Wasting no time,” Shanks marvelled, side-stepping her with far too much ease, even as he added, “I feel I should remind you that I’m not a young man anymore.”

“You seem to have no trouble drawing your sword,” Makino countered, advancing again, feet quick across the planks and her breath steady in her chest, but her smile betrayed her attempted coyness.

Shanks raised his brows, grin delighted and shameless. “Now who’s being suggestive?”

The look she shot him earned her a laugh, and when he moved towards her it was to steal a kiss, which Makino deflected by giving his hip a whack with the flat side of her blade. Predictably, that only had him laughing harder, and redouble his efforts, and she was suddenly hard pressed to decide if he was trying to best her, or to get that kiss.

Her breath rushed out of her in a laugh as she danced around him, steps sure-footed and sea legs steady after ten years, and his delight in both demonstrated in the way he retaliated, seeking to catch her off guard, and making no point to hide it.

She always enjoyed sparring with him. Ever since those first, stumbling sessions where she hadn’t even been able to hold her practice sword right, they’d developed an ease, practice making perfect, and showing in little things – knowledge of weaknesses, and strengths; where to apply pressure, and where to yield. She was familiar with his tells, and knew he could pick out hers with his eyes closed, and it was an awareness that matched them well together in training, a near-practised dance, even if her skill wasn’t a match for his in a real fight.

But he’d never treated her as inferior for it – had only been endlessly patient (and just a little bit insufferable), and had greeted all the hurdles in her path along with her, allowing her time to grow, and to hesitate, but never humouring her. He’d taken her teaching seriously, and his efforts had paid off. Ten years had seen her become more than proficient, and a formidable opponent, in the right setting. She didn’t have a thirst for battle, or a competitive nature, but sparring was different. And with Shanks…

She was vaguely aware that they were attracting a growing audience, despite the early hour, and once she might have felt self-conscious at the attention, but ten years had seen to that, too – had wrought familiarity from shyness, and into something that felt curiously like ease.

She caught the amused murmurs from across the deck – thoughts on form, and bets making it into Ben’s ledgers, and the occasional holler for Makino to give as good as she got, and to stop favouring her right side – but didn’t let it tempt her focus away from the man in front of her.

And anyway, it was distracting enough, watching Shanks – in his element, with that grin on his face. A unique grace of hard, controlled movements, and she’d never seen anyone who fought like he did. When they’d first met she’d had him pegged as a reckless fighter, an assumption based on nothing but his personality, but she’d soon come to realise that the opposite was the case. He was fiercely strategic, even more so in the heat of battle, and risky gambles were only made with an unshakeable surety of what would follow.

Of course, he was prone to the occasional, exaggerated flourish, but only if he thought he could get away with it. Or if he’d had too much to drink. One usually followed the other.

But it wasn’t hard to see how he’d received his reputation as one of the greatest swordsmen in the world. And she didn’t know what he’d been like before he’d lost his sword arm, but watching him now, it seemed an entirely inconsequential thing – the people they’d been once.

Her shirt clung to her back now, but the strain she felt was a good sort, and she was grateful for her earlier efforts – she always lasted longer if she’d warmed up first.

Shanks didn’t seem to be having trouble, despite the fact that he’d rolled straight out of bed, but Makino knew he’d be regretting it later. And lamenting it. Loudly.

She let her smile sit, carefully innocent on her mouth. “How are you holding up, old man?”

He drew back at that, a laughing splutter pulling free of him, to fill the space he’d put between them. “Old man? God, that’s a low blow. And you didn’t even use your sword. I don’t know if I should give you points for creativity or cruelty.”

“She’s just telling it like it is, Boss!” came the shout, followed my several voices rising in cheerful agreement, one of which sounded distinctly like go for the knees, Ma-chan!, and Shanks angled his sword in the direction of the speakers, a crude gesture accompanying it.

“This old man is holding up just fine,” he muttered, sounding almost convincingly put-off, before he moved towards her, barely giving her time to react, and Makino had a mind to wonder if the demonstration wasn’t meant to underline his rebuttal.

But she knew that move, and stepped aside with ease, slipping under the arm that sought to trap her, and driving her elbow into his ribs, shoving a breath past his teeth, along with a laugh.

Drawing back, “You’re fighting dirty today,” he told her, delighted grin ruining any attempt at convincing reproach. And she knew that smile, too – and what it usually heralded. And his voice was a low purr when he added, “I’m tempted to suggest we take this duel to the bedroom.”

Makino huffed a laugh. “Stop trying to distract me!”

“Who, me? I wouldn’t dream of it. If I was, I’d take off my shirt.”

“Keep your pants on, at least.”

“Why, my girl, is that a challenge?”

Their blades met – Siren sang, and Makino felt a muscle in her arm cramping against the strain. She was smaller, quicker, but even with one arm, he had her vastly beat in raw strength.

“You still put too much weight on your right leg,” Shanks told her, when he shoved her back, before smoothly parrying her next strike, and she ducked out of the way to avoid his counter.

Her hair was escaping her braid, the damp strands clinging to her cheeks a small distraction. She was thoroughly soaked through with sweat now. “You still talk too much when you spar,” she huffed.

“You say that like it’s restricted to sparring,” Shanks offered back breezily. “Which you know it isn’t. I talk in my sleep.” Parry, strike, parry, and the gleam of his eyes finding her before his next remark did, a wholly knowing thing. “I talk during sex.”

She stumbled a step, cheeks flushing despite her better efforts, and despite the fact that she’d known it was coming. And his grin widened, before he moved, quicker than she could keep up, a single step eating up the distance between them until he’d put himself flush against her, his sword angled, pommel-out to tip her backwards and off kilter.

The opportunity found her between breaths, and she’d seized it before she’d even had time to consider it fully.

She let him tip her off balance, and feigned a drop, watching as he righted himself, pleased at the familiar victory. But before he could recover, or even react, she’d twisted, leg sweeping in a sharp, decisive arc across the planks, knocking his feet out–

– and sending Shanks sprawling on his ass.

There was a moment of absolute quiet – a full second of complete, stunned silence where no one spoke, and where all he did was lay there.

Having pushed to her feet, Makino looked down at him, flat on his back and wearing an expression of such earnest surprise, if she’d even for a second considered the thought that he’d allowed her take him down, it didn’t last longer than that, banished by the look on his face.

And then she was laughing. “Ten years!” Makino exclaimed, voice sounding nearly shrill where it bounced off the quiet. “Ten years you’ve used that trick on me, and finally!” She shrieked, laughter carrying across the ship, bright with unrestrained delight, “Retribution!”

Her reaction shook loose the silence from its shocked paralysis, and she heard more than one voice raised in support from across the deck, along with a rising chorus of laughter.

Shanks still hadn’t moved. “Did my back give out?” He blinked up at her, his surprise so genuine Makino was tempted to tell him it was the most satisfying thing she’d ever seen. “I’m a little afraid to move.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” she sighed, but her laughter couldn’t be held back, and she felt it as it poured out of her, breathless with a pleasure that made her wonder if she didn’t have a small shred of competitive instinct after all.

A grin lit his face now, pride taking over his expression – a fiercely honest thing that came to settle in the laugh-lines at the corners of his eyes, which looked up at her with unbridled wonderment. It had something warm and pleased filling up her chest, pushing against her ribcage with a flutter.

She held out her hand, and when he took it he was laughing, sword discarded as he lifted himself to his feet, and she wasn’t quick enough when he tugged her close to steal a kiss this time – “I want a rematch,” he told her, voice low and grin wicked against her mouth. “A private one. You’re not the only one who can fight dirty.”

She gave him another whack with her sword, but it did little to remove his grin – or hers. “Restrain yourself for two seconds,” she chided, her laughter softened with familiar fondness.

“Okay. One–”

She proffered her blade, a playful warning, the tip angled at his chin and catching the first, pale shaft of sunlight where it fell over the deck, but Shanks only grinned, eyes still alight with that marvelling pride that had come to sit, deep within them.

“I have one thing I need to do first,” Makino said, and at his raised brow, pursed her mouth with a smile as she turned to the crowd. The ship having come awake, she felt it stirring – the tremor of laughter and footsteps, like blood through the veins of a great beast, shaking off its slumber.

Then across the deck, seeking that amused expression and finding it, along with a whole tableau of shameless grins – “Ben Beckman!” she called, meeting his gaze, and saw the smile that had curved along his mouth, no doubt already anticipating the words about to come out of hers, accompanied with the sweep of her hand, calloused palm open to the still-grey skies–

“Pay up!”

#Shanks #Red-Haired Shanks #Makino #One Piece #opfanfiction #Shanks x Makino #Shanks/Makino #Red-Haired Pirates #Akagami no Shanks #opfanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #mungoe writes #Shanties For the Weary Voyager #otp: sing me sea shanties

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nate-the-ok · 6 years ago

Text

Sugar Napkins Glass

One of my larger projects, written in a particular mood, then I got out of the mood. Lost interest. Its a time investment, fair warning

Sugar, Napkins, Glass: Chapter 1

Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. The things sea air does to cream cheese.

Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. (Three more furious scraping sessions)

It was late evening on the isles of Costa Marco, and Greg Sattle was deeply contemplating how drowning actually felt as he psychologically held his nose and cleaned the day`s cream cheese stains from the floors of his seaside café, The Port Side. He certaintly never imagined himself as the owner of some cream-colored scene out of a Martha Stewart Magazine, but crazier things have been done for love. Well perhaps not, Greg thought to himself. Ships were launched. Hundreds, perhaps thousands have died. But no one surely would subject themselves to ten years of imprisonment in a coffee shop. Her name, as apt as names go, has changed over the years. First, it was Elizabeth. Then, it was Liz. Then it was Ellie. After that it was Mom. Now its…well there are a plethora of profanities on Costa Marco relating to nagging old sea hags.

As the sun set over the ocean waves, bubbling and rippling the light from a distance, inducing a trance-like state for all of the barely clothed onlookers, Greg scanned the beaches, reigning down his mighty judgement upon all of god`s creation.

“Perverts. Sicophants. Mankind is a disgusting thing. All of these people, living artificial lives in artificial clothes, with artificial personalities, having sex with each other and drinking and lazing about. The fat jiggling bipeds live meaningless lives, consuming and consuming and consuming. A colony of walruses lives with more honor”

While deep in his sociopathic rants, Greg`s only son and heir to his legacy, Samuel, sauntered over to his father.

“Hey uhh, dad”

Greg hated his son. He was positive that he was the dumbest person on the entire island. No, the entire planet. It wasn`t even that that bothered him. It was his stupid, rage inducing manner of speech. It was a cross between the calm, swaying way of the islanders, and a lifetime of listening to the worst music god ever created. It was like listening to a four year old whine about having wet himself for 23 years. There were many occasions where Greg would chuckle to himself as Sam stubbed his toe on a door, or got beat up by a gang of street thugs. Ah the glories of cosmic justice he thought to himself. Now he approaches, likely to ask for something, as all weak willed individuals do on a regular basis.

“Yes Sam?” Greg said with obvious disdain, mocking Sam`s imperceptiveness, and crying on the inside that his son would always be, that stupid.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to loan me like uh…fifty bucks?”

Another thing that bothered Greg about Sam. He had zero charisma. He came off as needy and useless as he actually was. The only job he could ever get, was washing dishes at the cafe, which somehow, he still showed up late for. You couldn`t send him to military school to straighten him out, because they`d probably kill him for being such an annoying little shit, and say it was an accident. It was that part, that he regretted that his son would die, that really bothered Greg. Why god? Why other than by blood relations should I care about this…

“What exactly for?” Greg retorted

“Um…Im taking a girl on a date and I uh…need some spending money”

It was here that Greg paused. Surely, with this small investment of mere material gains, perhaps this will finally change sam`s silly ways. Hopefully he falls in love with this girl, and eventually she breaks his heart, that always toughens up a man in the end. Good god was sam a virgin? It`s a distinct possibility, but how could he know? Sam never confided in Greg. Ever. What the hell. Maybe it`s worth a shot.

“Sure, here…consider it a bonus…actually it`s not a bonus you`re a terrible worker and if you weren`t my son i`d fire you”

“Thanks dad!” Sam replied with renewed elation, as he scurried out the door, hopping into the old convertible Greg had gave him for his nineteenth birthday. Another failed attempt at manning him up.

“Maybe im just a shitty parent” Greg said out loud to himself.

Maybe he`s a lot of shitty things. However, that`s not nearly the most important part of this story.

“Oh a whisky oh a danny, when will the whisky run dry?” Bellowed each member of the small crew. Caribbean lobsters were rare, but in recent years, their populations blossomed, for almost unfathomable reasons. Regardless, dozens of fishing companies cropped up around Costa Marco, looking to cash in on a commoditiy, which pound for pound, was more valuable than gold. Of this small crew of the “Sandy Boot”, there was Rook, the boats` captain. He was a truck driver, for more years than he cared to remember, or forget for that matter. When the sea called to him, he remembered childhood stories his grandmother told him, of sailors and pirates, of heroes, and most importantly, drunks. Those decades of sitting in the cab of a truck, passing by non-descript highway rest stops and meaningless landmarks gave him a hunger for a real culture, and companionship. Sure there was the occasional bar-room hookup, as many as a guy as old and as fat as him could get but…he wanted a friend. More than anything.

Rook did the song justice, and drained the last swig of whisky from the clear glass bottle. Happily giggling as he spun the thin aluminum wheel around in the cabin making a course for home, while the other members of the crew scoffed in sarcastic disappointment. The small lobster boat only cost the crew a collective fifteen grand to purchase and insure, but had already made them incredible returns. None felt the weight of that more than Trip, the crew`s most experienced fisherman, but also the poorest. You see, Trip was a local to Costa Marco. His ancestors were slaves, and each preceding generation were slaves. First to white men, then to oppressive governments, then to drugs, and finally, to the sea. Many of the ethnic locals to Costa Marco are fishermen. But not all of them were ever good fishermen. All of them, save for Trip. To anybody else, he was just another kid who knocked some poor girl up, and ruined the rest of his life, trying to take care of a kid. To Trip and Louisa, they were in paradise. Sure they lived in a small apartment by the docks. Sure they didn`t own a car, or even have a checking account. What they did have however, was the kind of love that we all refuse to believe is real, and a beautiful baby boy to match. Their life went as followed. Trip would get up early in the morning, and join the rest of the crew on the boat to fish. Louise would wake with the sunrise and feed their child, sipping tea and reading books, gossiping with her neighbors on the beach behind their home. As the sun went down, she would build a fire, and cook a meal of chopped fish and island fruits. When Trip returned, he would walk onto the beach, lay on the sand next to his wife, take his son in his arms, and they would laugh until the fire left their minds, and fell to embers. When the clock struck ten, the three of them would settle down to bed, and the process would begin again. I`d wager that at the time, since Trip had finally been able to bring in good money, they were the happiest people alive.

As that rusty old boat pulled into the docks, and Trip called to Louise, Margo was tying off ropes, and looking over cages that had been damaged, eager to repair them. She was a kind of inquisitive, thoughtful human being that had been completely ensnared by the mere concept of rope in general. She could not explain just how-hold on a second, a woman? On a boat? Believe it or not, yes. A woman on a boat. Perhaps it was because Rook`s guilty pleasure was staring at her ass when she pulled a cage up from the sea. Perhaps it was the fact that on Costa Marco, everyone was too laid back to care at all. In reality, it was the mutual understanding between workers, that if you wanted the money, you worked hard for it, and you weren`t a total bitch, then you could fish like anyone else. It was that kind of atmosphere that Margo really craved. The kind of togetherness and happiness that was alive in the isles of Costa Marco. She could walk the streets on a Friday night, and join any party she wanted. Smile with whoever she wanted, laugh with whoever she wanted, and drink with whoever she wanted. It was her other craving though, that drove her to the fishing industry, and to the seclusion of the house she was able to purchase, just outside of town.

Cinnitar. A strange name for an incredibly popular opioid. It`s popularity wasn`t in it`s nature or it`s flawless marketing. It`s popularity was based on it`s safety. Margo would walk home from the boat after Rook distributed the previous day`s pay, spend a third of it on Cinnitar, and crash at her place, unwinding slowly into a peaceful, yet dreamless sleep. The gimmick associated to Cinnitar was that no matter how much of it you took, you couldn`t die, and there were virtually no side effects. While initially created to humanely kill family pets, when the formula was released to the general public, crafty chemists soon realized the drug`s massive potential. Margo had a massive amount of reasons to take the drug, but only one that she really couldn`t get out of her head. Her Abortion. Breaking up with Grant. She wasn`t supposed to feel guilty. It was the right thing to do. She was taking control of her body, and her life. Where did that ever get her? Where could it have gone? These kinds of questions only frightened her more when she knew Trip`s story, and watched his family eat dinner on the beach a hundred times. She wanted that, more than anything she wanted that, but she made that choice a thousand years and a thousand miles ago, and there was no way to go back. So it was here, that she would lay back on the hammock, ladle some Cinnitar into her arm, and imagine she made the choice she wanted, maybe even the right choice.

Suddenly, the newest member of the crew, Spencer, was knocking at her door. Margo couldn`t even stand to respond, and hoped he would just go away. She only ever invited him over along with the whole crew one time, as a housewarming party, but besides that, she had been a hermit. Spencer though, was persistent, knocking away like an idiot, because he saw her going in there…which yes, means that he followed her.

“Oh well, I guess she was just tired from fishing today. It was pretty hot out” he sighed to himself.

Margo relaxed back into her hammock. She liked Spencer. As far as guys went on all the islands, he was pretty cute. But it had only been…two years? Since she up and left her home in Georgia to find her way in the carribean, just to throw herself at the map and see where she could stick. It had been a long time, she thought. Maybe too long. Maybe she should give Spencer a shot, she thought, but before she could explore that line of reasoning, another wave came over her, and she was further back in that hammock than ever before, further back in her past and her guilt.

Walking home at night on Costa Marco is a very surreal experience. There are Boas hanging in the trees, pigs and dogs scurrying about, and when you hit the city, it`s a complete paradigm shift. There are vibrantly dressed locals and self-proclaimed locals dancing and drinking and laughing, jabbering and swooning to the hastily strummed guitars and battered drums. When Spencer left that small but happy place in the world, he turned down the many streets until he reached his own little cobblestone corner. Really a treasure of an abode, an old colonial townhouse, shoulder to shoulder with the infinite, but not quite well laid out rows of the other townhouses. He turned the old iron key, creaking open the heavy wooden door, into his own little grain scented shelter. Throwing wood into the fireplace, and firing up his laptop, he began to peruse his greatest passion… bread. Artisan, hand crafted, wood baked, the boy was obsessed. You see, Costa Marco was surprisingly devoid of this kind of bread industry. No dish, local or otherwise served or prepared on the islands required it, in fact, one would be looked upon with a small amount of disdain if seen eating a sandwich. This kind of atmosphere suffocated Spencer. He wanted to share his passion for bread with everyone he knew, by opening his own bakery. You could imagine by this description, that Spencer was a simple kind of guy, but in a magnificently pleasant kind of way. Spencer had spent most of his life travelling, as his father and mother were both in the navy, which meant that for the most part, spencer grew up on naval bases and with other navy kids. They all wanted to follow right in line with their parents, as disciplined and honorable scholars, pilots, or sailors. Spencer wanted none of that. All he wanted, was his bakery. It is hard to determine when, where or how he became obsessed with bread, or why frankly anyone cares, but all this interest is a testament to, is the kind of purity of heart Spencer possessed.

“Just a few more weeks” Spencer muttered to himself with a smile,

“And they`ll all see”…He trailed off, sensing he was tired, and rising to his bedroom. With each thunk of the heavy wooden steps he thought of Margo. How pretty she was. How her hair glistened in the midday sun. How the waters rolled off her skin. Yes, this is love, he thought.

The crew of the sandy boot were a lively bunch. The money was good, but what would it mean if they couldn`t buy paradise in…paradise. Poor old Greg was no exception. As he forked the thin steel key out of the decrepid lock of the café, and wandered over to his old Toyota truck, he began for the first time in his life, to seriously examine the choices he had made. For an inimaginable amount of time, Greg was locked in his relationship with Liz. Funny. He hadn`t even called her that in his thoughts in years. He could sense it. Just like how he sensed some asshole slowly crawling up his tail light on the old highway.

“Why I oughta” Greg snarled to himself, well aware that he only said that due to the fact thousands of other faces on the televisions did before him,

What he “oughta” do became less and less clear. His stream of consciousness was inundated with images of graphic, brutal violences he would inflict on the morally devoid creature that parasitically perched itself on his mechanical posterior. While making a curve on the old road, he caught a good glimpse of the driver in his rear-view mirror. It was just some...average young woman. Really nothing of great stereotypical or demonstrative worth. Suddenly, a wave of sympathy overcame Greg. Maybe she was just having a bad day. Maybe she was just angry about something. Maybe he had tailgaited her some time ago, and this was her form of revenge. Maybe, and entirely possibly, she was thinking the very same thoughts he was in his car, driving home late at night. Wondering about all the things he had done, the bills he had to pay, or the big decisions he would have to make. And a big decision, he certaintly did have to make. And it would pertain to whether or not he would stay with Liz.

It wasn`t like it was rocket science. Greg wasn`t always this spiteful, this mean, or even this domecticated. Liz hated camping. Before he met her, he could barely stay out of the woods.

“Yeah, Camping. Another thing to look foreward to when she`s out of the picture” Greg said aloud to himself, in rhythm with the soft country music on the radio.

“And that stupid kid of ours. He can be HER problem”. His voice began to rise with elation, as if the lightball was slowly coming on in his head.

“And I can finally smoke a cigar, inside or out…Hell ill be sure to ash`em right in the carpets”. The rhythm was infecting his reasoning, a little song being invented as he talked more and more.

“Oh yeah you bet it baaabay, that I`ll be smokin` up the town…do do do, pah do do pah pah… Oh yeah won`t be a clean carpet arooooooouuund” He laughed and tapped on his wheel as he sang his little song, all the way up his driveway.

Greg didn`t even bother to go in the house anymore. The ol` salty sea skank (his favourite colloquialism), would always be there to ask him how much money he made at the café that day.

“It was your idea bitch, and you`d know how much we were making if you ever left the house”

Greg pondered that hypothetical strategy in an argument as he walked into the shed, and flicked then lights on. Upon the table, lay his only true love. His beautiful bearded lizard, which he named Tequila. Greg…Greg was the kind of guy who loved to watch things. To be in control. There was nothing Greg loved more than to feed Tequila, in the morning before he went to work, and at night when he came home. Despite the fact that all the simple lizard ever gave him was the occaisional eyeball lick, or even a rare nibble on his fingers, Greg interpreted that as true affection.

“Oh little Tequila, you look so hungry!” Greg said, opening the cabinet above the lizard`s massive tank, and pulling out a small colony of grasshoppers.

Greg thought for a moment as he fauned over his pet, and smirked when he said, “So hungry that these little sons of bitches…might not be enough”

Greg put the grasshoppers back in the cabinet, and pulled another tank up from the ground across the floor. Within, rested half a dozen garter snakes, just now becoming startled at being lifted on the table.

Then, with the methodical preparation of a serial killer, Greg donned a leather apron and a pair of leather gloves, grabbing the fattest snake from the tank, and sealing the rest away. Greg took time to examine the creature, ensuring that it wouldn`t be strong enough to possibly hurt cute little Tequila. Of course none of those snakes stood a chance, but even a scratch on one of his stubby little legs would deeply disturb Greg. He gingerly placed the snake in the opposite end of Tequila`s tank, pulled up a chair, cracked a beer, and just watched.

Tequila was quick to take notice. It wasn`t very often that he had roomates. The new company was very exciting, but quite strange. Like an innocent, scaley puppy, tequila plodded off of his log, and towards this new arrival.

“Hold on a moment” Tequila thought to himself, slowing his pace as he analyzed the scent of the creature. He approached with caution…and a feeling…came over him…

Within a flash, bits and pieces of his new friend were strewn throughout the sand, a chunk of it`s torso sliding down his gullet.

“No…Not Again!”

Greg was sufficiently appeased by this display, and took the time to clean the cage while Tequila was occupied with his food, and changed his water.

“Isn`t it maaaaagic” Greg sang to himself, as he closed down the shed, and turned off all the lights, only dimming Tequila`s light in his tank.

“He gets scared of the dark…musn`t do that to him” He muttered, having thought about it and said that phrase a thousand times by now, it had become more of a routinely incensed nervous tick, for now Greg would have to actually go inside his house, and face his wife, which especially as of late, had become thornier than Tequila. Yes, thornier. Nothing else… weirdo.

Greg walked up to the bug screened back door, and as he climbed the second of the three steps, the light above the door came on, which meant that Liz was fast approaching, likely having seen Greg leave the shed. He opened the door, with her standing in front of him, crossing her arms and staring at him with pursed lips. She always had a flair for the dramatic. Never seemed to like existing in a state of calm or contentment. As far as Greg knew, she loved to be miserable and combative.

Greg wasn`t really in the mood for one of her fits. He knew how the argument would go. He knew exactly what she would nag him about. The Café isn`t making enough money, the house needs renovating, you need to spend more time with sam, you need to work out. It was the last part that bothered Greg the most. His physique had never been exemplary, he knew this, and he thought she knew this. Where did this desire for a six pack and biceps appear? When she started to have to shimmy through the closet door sideways?

After a single, tense moment, Greg simply put his keys on the hook beside the door, and walked on by. Sure it required one awkward shove, and really did nothing to appease Liz, but what was the point? All she wanted to do was argue till the sun came up.

He casually walked over to the kitchen and pulled some raw fish he had bought from the market two days earlier, prepared a skillet, and began to sear it on the electric oven, not expressing a single emotion aside from blank disdain as she walked in, still pouting about…well he didn`t even bother to find out.

He kept standing over that fish, casually turning from side to side as he grabbed various spices off the racks beside the stove. Ultimately, he found her performance entertaining and predictable. She had done this a thousand times. She would continue to do this a thousand times. It had been years since he stopped wondering what he could do, what he could say so she would finally hug him after a long day of work…again Greg felt regret.

“How terribly attached to a terrible woman have I become? I would be so much happier if I just…left. But I can`t…How fickle the heart is”

He remembered when they first moved into the house. They had arguments yes, but they were small, never lasted long, and were always resolved. He thought that was the sign of how resilient they were as a couple. Over time though, with the innumerable failures of Sam, the highs and lows of the café, the hurricane…Their arguments grew more fierce. They could argue for hours. First it was a low rumble. Then it was a scream. At least he`d get the occasional “I love you” from her. Nowadays, he couldn`t even remember the last time he, or even she said it.

He could remember the last time they cooked together. It was beef stew. He remembered the sound of her laughter as they casually splashed the red wine into the broth and their glasses. He remembered how warm she felt in his arms as they fell asleep on the porch, stinking of wine and spilled stew.

“Yes…that was the last time we were happy together” he thought to himself.

He slid the fish off the skillet and onto a pan, turning around and placing it on the table, unsuprised to see he wife still standing there in the doorway, maintining that blank, judgemental expression. He sat down, pushed the plate to the side slowly, and motioned for her to sit down. Slowly, she rose from her stance, and took the chair across from him. After a long moment of silence, and losing the staring contest with the tribal figurine in the middle of the table, Greg spoke.

“Aren`t you tired?” He asked, deliberately, implying so much with so little.

In complete understanding of the implications, she replied

“I…Yes… I am”

“How long has it been…since you were actually happy to see me?” He asked, having completely forgotten about the fish growing cold beside him.

“Too long” She curtly replied.

There was another long pause as Greg began to feel a wash of emotions come over him. He really loved her. There was no denying that. He began to process the thought of her not loving him, images of her leaving, of her looking away when he passed her on the street. It began to destroy him in ways he couldn`t imagine. He couldn`t stop it, he had already set in motion.

“ Do you still love me?” He asked, having asked a thousand times before in the past as a rhetorical question, always replied with “of course idiot”, or “you know I do”. This was the first time he really meant it, and really wondered. And it really hurt.

There was another long silence. Everything felt colder, and darker to Greg. His life, and his worldview were hanging in the balance. The fact that she even took a second to consider sent him spinning. It felt like a knife was being pulled out of his chest, the sheer anticipation of what he knew would come next.

Liz rose from her chair, and took a picture off the wall. It was from years ago, when the whole family had taken their first vacation together. Greg was standing over Liz, his hands on her shoulders, as She was sitting on a canoe, sam in her arms, still a baby. She came back to her chair, and put the picture on the table, staring at it for yet another agonizing eternity.

“I loved you for who you were…but not for who you are”

He could not think. He could not speak. He responded as blankly and as simply as he could muster.

“In that case…I want you out of the house by next week”

“What? Greg that`s completely unreasonable” she said, which to Greg indicated that she wanted to go, and she wanted to for a long time. It also enraged him for some reason, that she would have the gall to break his heart, and still ask for reparations.

“I don`t particularly care. Actually, here`s the deal. I`ll give you that goddamned café, and ill keep the house, which I paid for by actually working at MY café. I swear to god if you say it`s somehow yours to give, the only claim you have was that it was your goddamned idea. It`s in my legal name, I did all the work to get the land, to build the damn thing, and still ran it for ten years. Take whatever damn money you`ve got saved and get an apartment in town. Maybe you`ll find a skinny Cuban guy to sleep with while you`re there!” Greg yelled.

“Just…fuck you Greg. Fuck you.” Liz replied, tears streaming down her face as she ran upstairs, the clunk of her suitcase slamming to the floor. Greg didn`t care. This was the hundredth argument they had gotten in, and he was making sure this was the last. He was angry, but only as a way to drown out just how upset he really was.

The sound of the suitcase hitting the floor, of dressers flying open, was the melody to which Greg went on his laptop in the living room, and electronically transferred ownership of the café over to Liz. He promptly went into their bank account, destroyed the split account, taking what was his, and establishing his own account. “Hmm…She only has $38,000 left…How did she even earn that much?”. He didn`t bother to find out. He had now financially cut her out of his life. The wonders of the internet.

There was a pang of regret in Greg. Perhaps this was too extreme. Maybe it was, but there was no coming back from what he just did. Those two minutes of conversation could have gone a thousand different ways. It began to feel like he chose the worst way possible. All he wanted was for Liz to love him again, but instead, he pushed her away. Was it justified? After years and years of these arguments maybe it was. He just felt like he needed to…pull the plug, so to speak. Just to cut it off and end it. So, he reasoned, like any other case of amputation, it would hurt, but in the end, he would be better off. Still, he wouldn`t have an arm. That was ultimately the question. Would Greg rather have a cancerous, venomous part of his life that made him miserable, or not have that at all? What was worse? What Greg did know is that it was too late to wonder. He had tried medicating for decades, with know sign of remission. Now, Liz was coming down the stairs, and Greg began to be so upset that he couldn`t think of any more medical juxtapositions.

What was worse was that she didn`t even look at him when she went out the door. All he could yell at her was that the Café was her responsibility now, and she`d have to find a way run it in the morning. He remembered the keys in his pocket, and threw the café key in her car as she opened the passenger door to throw her suitcase in. She still did not look at him. She refused to look at him. Even when she was pulling out of the driveway, She didn`t even look towards the house, and sped off to town. So Greg stood there, on the porch, and for the first time in fifteen years, he cried.

It wasn`t like how he imagined. The house didn`t feel free. A weight wasn`t lifted off his shoulders. It felt empty. Like there were still parts of it that were actually hers. He wanted to call her. He wanted to tell her he was sorry, that she should come back and they could talk things over. It was too late though. He knew her. She would take this whole incident to heart. She would go through with it, regardless of how she still felt about him. The ultimate issue was that they both loved each other, but they couldn`t stand each other. It was a sick, unhealthy way of existing, and Greg sought to excise those feelings as he cleaned up the bedroom and the bathroom, putting whatever she left behind in a box, which he was debating either burning, burying, or throwing at her whenever she found out where she lived. Fortunately she was pretty good about it… in fact it was too good. Maybe she had rehersed this. Maybe she was just waiting for this argument, the go ahead, the justification to finally leave. She had to have been thinking about it. Way more than he actually was.

The reality was that when you`re married to a woman for thirty years, she accumulates more crap than she could possibly fit in one exceptionally large suitcase. She took the essentials, her clothes, her jewelry, so on and so forth. What did she leave behind? The kind of things that hurt to still see. Photos. Letters. Little arts and crafts, any kind of sentimental object.

“Regardless” Greg said to himself.

“This was going to happen one day or another…just when and how were the only questions…doesn`t change the fact that I still feel like shit about it.”

There really isn`t anything he could do except just sit on the bed, and imagine what life would now be like. Where his fit of rage and honesty really put him. He didn`t have a job anymore. That was something to consider. What could he even go for? He had a degree in business management, and sociology. He had years of experience running small restaurants. Those kind of credentials don`t get you far in this kind of a place. What really mattered was that he was old, fat, and…didn`t have Liz. He felt guilty about not being more sympathetic. About not feeling at all bad for essentially kicking her out in the middle of the night. It was just…her words. I loved you for who you were…not for who you are”. She had, without any kind of anger or impotice, said the most hurtful thing Greg ever heard in his life. He regretted ever complaining about her, even though that complaining was mostly to himself. He was angry, shocked, and plunged into this deep pit of depression all in an instant. The fact that he suddenly lost control of his emotions wasn`t forgivable but to Greg…it was understandable.

-----------

Greg awoke the next morning, with a pain in his chest. The knife wound from earlier had moved to the center of his chest, slowly ripping and tearing. It no longer felt metaphorical. It was a literal, real pain, and as he saw it… it was all his fault.

“What am I thinking?” he said to himself, squinting his eyes as he sat up in the morning sunlight.

It was eight o`clock in the morning. He normally got up at six to get to the shop and open by seven, but what the hell. It`s not his problem anymore.

“I am a grown ass man and I`m pining after that hag?”

Oh god of course. The only reason he was sad was because he only chose to remember the good parts of their marriage which to be honest, were just as she described. They started good, and tapered off around… jesus a quarter of the way through? Did he not remember the endless, pointless, and frustrating fights they would get in? How she would blame him for how Sam turned out? No. He shouldn`t feel sad. The only reason he does was…human nature.

“Yeah… that`s gotta be it.” Greg thought.

He got up, and went through his typical morning routine, plus a mug of rum and fatefully, a cigar on the porch. As he took deep, long tokes on the sweet treasure he had denied himself for years, he began to remember what kind of a man he really was.

“Just getting in touch with my ego. It`s what Freud would want”

Suddenly, he remembered his only friend, and ran to the shed. He scooped up little Tequila from his tank, and placed him in a basket (formerly used for bath towels…why would you want a smaller towel? Why not just the one size towel? Another annoying mystery of Liz) beside him, pouring him a little dish of rum.

“This is the life eh Tequila? A bit of rum, the lazy island breeze, and the cool morning sun…I just feel like staying right here. Doing absolutely nothing. In that way I guess we aren’t that different eh little man?”

Tequila had already taken a few sips of the rum, and began to feel groggy, making a movement with his head that appeared to Greg as a nod.

“The food god has poisoned me…the sweet smelling liquid was a deception…”

The spiny lizard felt the warmth of the sun on his scales, and reminisced on the few times he ever saw the great ball of orange light.

“Perhaps I am dying…why else would the food god bring me here?”

Hours indeed did pass. The sun rose, and all the island birds were chirping and cawing. Greg used to think it was an annoying racket, but now, a little buzzed on the rum and having meditiated in this state for some time, it was a chorus, more beautiful and sanctified than any church choir he ever listened to as a kid.

Greg felt sore, and decided to rise from his seat, and noticed that Tequila had finished his bowl of rum, and now was listing around his basket, attempting to escape.

“I think it`s high time I did something…that I expanded your perspective”

He picked up Tequila, and brought him in the house. He had never left the confindes of his tank, save for the one time Greg brought him out in the yard to run around a little bit. He gently laid him on the couch, set out a plate of pre-killed grasshoppers and a dish of water, and closed the door behind him.

“I`m just curious as to what the hell happens” he giggled to himself.

“Also as to what…has happened”

He grew morose, and finally decided to assess the damage on what happened the night before. As he was pulling out of the driveway, he questioned for but a moment, the soundness of the decision to let Tequila have his way with the house. Before he could consider that for any longer, he saw Sam pull into the driveway, or attempt to. For the first time in his life, Sam looked truly angry with his father. Greg sighed, and pulled back in the driveway, getting out and leaning against the bed of the truck as Sam pulled in himself.

“Hey Dad can you tell ME what uh, happened last night?” Sam said, with a kind of difficulty that made it very apparent he was inexperienced with this emotion.

“When did you find out?” Greg said, with the kind of calm respect he never gave to Sam. He was innocent here. He deserved to be treated with respect when it came to this, of all things.

“Last night Dad. Mom`s staying at my place right now” Sam answered, still pseudo angry with Greg

You mean the apartment I pay for? Greg thought. No. This wasn`t the time for bitterness or sarcasm about anything. Not with Sam.

“Sam, I know you`re a man and you have a lot of things of your own to worry about and pay attention to but…you must have known this was coming”

“OF COURSE I did dad! I just never thought you would be the one to…do it. And that way? Do you know how mom feels right now?”

Greg sighed heavily, and moved to the porch. Sam followed, eagerly awaiting his father`s answer. Greg sat back down in his chair, and sparked up the short cigar he had been working on since the morning.

“Come on Sam…Sit down” Greg motioned to the other seat, formerly Liz`s seat, back when he and Liz used to do things like that together. Sam complied, and pulled the chair over to sit beside his father. Greg looked out at the island and the jungle, the ocean and the birds flying over the canopy. Sam sat staring at his father, incredibly nervous as to what he would say next. Greg looked over, and began.

“As you know very well, your mother and I loved each other very much, and that`s how and why you came about…but that was a very long time ago. Now we just make each other miserable, and we just need to go our own directions”

“That still doesn`t explain why you were so fucking rude about it” Sam said, calmly responding. It was the first time he had ever cursed in his father`s prescence, and frankly, it impressed him.

Greg took another cigar from the wooden box, and waved it as an offering to Sam. Sam nodded, and awkwardly fumbled the lighter as he lit it up. He coughed, and took the cigar between his thumb and index finger, resting his arm on the arm of the chair, the way all the mob bosses did in the movies.

“You know what kid…you`re right. Maybe it was a bit much for me to have done what I did and said what I said the way I said it last night. I can`t take that back…but you know what? If I did it any other way, your mom and I would have second guessed it, gotten back together, and six months later I`d be thinking about doing the exact same thing again. I know it was a shitty thing to do but…that`s how your mom and I are. That`s how it would have worked out either way”

Sam didn`t seem satisfied with the explanation, and kept looking off in the distance, waiting for a further explanation.

“Listen, just help your mom out for a few weeks so she can find a place and get back on her own two feet. I assure you, after all of this is over, her and I are going to be far better off, and you`ll start to see that in both of us”

Sam continued to stare foreward, but then began to speak.

“I just can`t understand it. How two people can be together so long and now…it just happened so fast”.

“Yeah kid… it still kinda feels like just a…nightmare right now. Like it hasn`t really happened”

“Do you still care about her?”

“I`m…I`m not sure”

They now both stared foreward. For the next moment, Sam put the cigar in his mouth, stood up, and went to his car without saying goodbye. Greg couldn`t imagine it. He had lost Liz, and now he wasn`t sure if he had lost his son. It felt wrong, but he indulged his desire to ash his cigar, which had gone out in the long pauses of his conversation. He leaned over the chair to the rug, made two little eyes, and pondered what kind of face he should make. Had everything happened the way he thought, maybe it would have been happy. Had he really and truly regretted his decision, it would have been sad. All he could accomplish was a long, straight, simple stroke along the pattern.

There is a kind of surreal nature to the inside of Spencer’s bedroom. The junglewood timbers and the two hundred year old stonework of the roof are the first things he lays eyes on in the morning. When he gets up and looks around, there is a computer, and a primitive modern plumbing system jammed into the old washroom. The space felt hijacked by modern amenities and the ever demanding creature comforts of a technological generation. As Spencer rises, he is careful to have a steady hand as he shaves with the straight razor he bought at the old market when he got off the boat, appalled by the apparent lack of multiple blade technology. While it had been six months since then, and his aim had improved, not a week would go by before he would give himself a solid nick on the jaw, and he would be reminded of this embaressment when the salt of the sea was splashed in his barely visible wound.

He was always a hard working kid, who quickly got over the whole “up ‘for dawn” moans and groans that were associated with being a professional fisherman. It took a particular kind of talent to get in his fishing overalls and his graphite grey hoodie, make a decent pot of coffee in the five dollar French press he had to work with, and head down to the docks in time, all with only three lights in the house.

While it was dark in his house, when Spencer began to walk the streets is when his childhood fears really began to resurface. At least at night the darkness was always dulled by the sound of music and the songs of drunken tourists. This early in the morning, most everyone who was out the night before was holed up somewhere, or was enigmatically dumped in a gutter, resulting in more than one occasion when he would accidentally kick one. The resulting groan would scare the hell out of Spencer, sending him nervously jogging down the street for a moment, before he looked back and saw a tattered figure slowly shift on the ground. The sight gave him no relief, but he endured.

The morning air in the town of Tileo had a bitter, metallic tang to it, which began to mix with the smell of dead or dying fish and sea air as he approached the docks.

“soon… it’ll be cinnamon… flour… rye” Spencer said to himself, panting as he shuffled towards the docks.

Rook was always the first to greet the crew as they arrived. He didn’t wake up any earlier than the rest of them, he just slept in a little house by the dock where they docked the boat, always fiddling with a lobster trap or studying the weather reports when Spencer walked down the dock and jumped on the boat.

“early as always” Rook slurred, not taking his eyes off the monitor.

“I thought we established that you liked that kind of thing” Spencer slurred back, stacking the fixed traps on the back of the boat.

“I do, but one day that enthusiasm will kill you”

“trust me man, if the money weren’t good, I wouldn’t be so enthusiastic” Spencer replied, standing up to put his gloves on and give a cordial wave to Trip as he jumped on the boat, only a few minutes later than Spencer.

“Hey Trip how`s it going?” Spencer asked, in the way he had been for the past four months. It seemed too sarcastic, too obnoxious to say “good morning”. There was an unspoken pact agreed upon by all the crew members to avoid the phrase in general.

Trip gave Spencer a hearty pat on the back, and leaned over to help him drag in rope.

“Feel good enough to make some money…shit it`s colder than a witchs’ teat today”

Spencer was proud that he taught Trip that phrase.

About fifteen minutes later, Margo appeared, quickly plodding towards the boat, hood up, her hands shoved in the pockets of her hoodie.

Ironically, she was the sunniest of the crew, typically buying something for the whole gang so they wouldn`t have to fish on empty stomachs. Today, it was a plastic netted bag of oranges.

“Thanks darlin’” Rook muttered, catching the orange as she tossed one to each of the crew.

A few more moments were spent organizing the tackle and throwing overall straps over shoulders, and then Rook gave the word to cast off.

The rhythm of work had become as automatic and unconscious as breathing to even Spencer. It went as followed. See bouy. Throw hook. Drag up trap. Empty trap into tank. Either stack the trap, or throw it back. Really the only person who had to actually think about their job was Rook, scanning the computer screen, and his paper maps, trying to find his traps and direct the crew which traps could wait, and which traps to pull in.

Due to the constant, straining mononteny, conversations between the crew would be running, and incoherent as they haul in their catch. Despite how this description sounds, they did not suffer at all under this strenuous labor. When each lobster dumped in the tank essentialy was another five bucks in each of the crew`s pockets, they had very little reason to complain. This kind of money, fishing easy waters, attracted drifters and shills, old hands and young hopefuls alike. The beauty of most of these fishing boats based off Costa Marco was that hiring and firing, well that was all at the captain`s discretion, weeding out all the lowlifes who didn`t meet the island`s “exacting” standards. The territorial government of the islands was almost non-existent, which led to virtually no enforcement of labor laws. Rightly so, because the fishermen of Costa Marco lived under a non-verbal, contractual agreement. To work hard, not to piss anyone off, and to enjoy life once in a while. If you were the wrong kind of personality, the wrong kind of person, hell even if the captain thought your fashion sense was abhorrent, all of these things were grounds for firing. The result? A tightly knit community of hand-picked fishing boats and their captains. Now it would be obvious to discover that most boats had some unfair preferences for their crews, locals picking locals, Hispanics picking Hispanics, black captains picking black crews, all of this was rampant and obvious, but nobody complained. It was more like a friendly competition, to see who, or what kind of person could really bring in the most cash. Which really befuddled Spencer, who finally decided Trip might not be offended if he asked Rook why he brought on Trip.

“Hey…Hey Rook?” Spencer asked, panting as he bent over to throw a trap in the water.

Rook looked up from his monitors quickly, obviously bored with his task as the weather seemed to be pretty much dead for the day

“What`s up Spence?”

“I`ve been working on this boat for a while now and…”

“Yeah?”

“I know how things are around here…Ah let me cut to the chase”

“Spit it out man” Rook asked, laughing a little at Spencer`s awkwardness.

“I`m just wondering why you brought on Trip…I mean, I know he`s a good fisherman and all, and a really nice guy, but…From what I see that isn`t what most people do around here”

Trip looked up from the back of the boat while spencer was asking his question, shrugging his shoulders and smiling, as if he couldn`t help just being an awesome guy, but his mood became serious when Spencer finished, his gaze turning to Rook.

Rook paused and stroked his salt and pepper beard, taking a quick glance at Margo, and then returning to his thoughts

“You said it yourself. Great fisherman, great guy. What else could I ask for?”

“Yeah Good point good point…” Spencer became nervous, as he now looked like a flaming racist.

“Oh don`t go shaking in your boots now Spence. I know you meant well” Trip piped up, grinning at Spencer, empathetic to his existential plight.

Spencer smiled nervously and shook his head, sighing as he bent back down to throw another trap.

Margo, largely oblivious to this whole exchange, staring off into the ocean, readied the last hook for the morning. Throwing it with impressive accuracy, a skill that was acquired over years of experience, and thankfully carried over to horseshoes. The effects of her habit were unpredictable at best. Sometimes she would be warm and sunny, optimistic and happy with the disposition of freshly poured chamomile tea. Other times, it was exactly as a hangover should be, a writhing, seething pain in her gut and a pounding in her head that always drove her to the point of swearing off the stuff for good, and made her despise every ray of sunlight or moment of attention thrown her way. Today however, was a great day. She had long figured out the exact formula for warding off these hangovers, that being exactly seven and a half hours of sleep, with two cups of coffee and half a lemon before leaving for work. That recipe always perked her right up as she made her own stroll down to the docks. It was that state of contentment, a lack of bereavement, that was almost better than getting high itself. In this kind of condition, she was really and truly just a fisherman on an exotic island.

As the crew halted work for the lunch break, huddling over the canvas covered interior of the boat as the midday sun bore down on them, Margo decided to make a tactical move. For almost a year and a half, she would always turn over a plastic bucket and sit between the two fiberglass benches that ran the length of the covered section of the boat. Rook would wheel around his chair in the cabin, opening the door to talk to the rest of the crew, Trip would sprawl himself out along the right bench, and Spencer would sit, with a hunched posture, nervously leaning against one of the polls holding up the canvas on the end of the left bench toward`s the captain`s cabin. In this fantastic mood she was in, she decided to sit directly next to Spencer. Within a far closer proximity than could be deemed permissible between coworkers or aquaintences. A single hand length, to be exact.

Spencer, munching away at a chicken wrap he had constructed himself, tried to play off the gravity of such a maneuver. Surely her bucket was no longer suitable for sitting, after all a rather rotten lobster did explode near the bottom. No amount of bleach could…

Never mind that tragedy! This wasn’t some kind of middle school panic attack he should be thrown into. Enough fanticising. Just…talk.

Thankfully, Rook broke the slow silent munching between the four of them.

“You know Spence, you were a little right about earlier”

“About what” He calmly,, yet nervously responded.

“About how it was unusual I took on Trip”

“Oh yeah?” Spencer calmly replied.

“You see… there is a story attached to his being here”

Trip rolled his eyes and scoffed, laying back on the bench in amusement.

“About oh I`d say coming on six years ago, I was just a lowlife truck driver, travelling the mainland for no other reason than sheer boredom.”

Spencer was relieved this appeared to be a happy story, as was indicated by Trip`s relaxed posture, and apparent annoyance for hearing this story-

“Close to a dozen times you`ve told this story old man” Trip piped up packing away his belongings, quickly trying to get back to work

“Oh ho ho not so fast there man, and that`s an order…I`m telling the story and you`re going to like it” Rook commanded, pointing one of his thick, calloused fingers at Trip.

Trip dramatically slumped his shoulders, and plopped back on the bench with a grin on his face, and his hands covering his cheeks.

“You see, one day down by Orlando, after hauling a whole bed full of toilet paper, I decided that I had had enough of that shit…”

There was a long pause, when nobody would appreciate his-

“Woooooooow” Margo said

“I know right?” Rook grinned, chuckled to himself a bit, and moved on.

“I just parked the truck by the beach, and took some time to weigh my options. After a long while of just watching the um…sunset…yeah the sunset”

“Huh” Margo sarcastically snorted, fully aware of his “admirations”

“As I was saying” Rook continued,

“All of the sudden, this crazy sonofabitch just runs a ground, right on the beach, out of nowhere, clinging to the steering wheel like Ahab”

Trip now began to nervously recoil, smiling and giving one or two laughs as the story continued

“Me being the only one there who wasn`t passed out, who actually knew what was going on there, I ran over to check out what was going on”

“Ran?” Trip asked with the foxy smile that dressed his sarcasm.

“Shut up asshole I`m telling the story. How about when you tell it you can say I flopped like a seal and dragged myself across the beach ok? Christ”

The crew now laughed in unison at Rook`s flustered anger, so much so that even he couldn`t keep a straight face.

Stopping himself to guffaw every now and then, he proceeded,

“So…heh, this guy is just like…completely out of it, absolutely dead tired, and I ask him, “Hey man are you okay?”, and heh heh, this guy just said, “I`m going to be a…Father!””

Spencer laughed the loudest, Margo only laughing because his was so infectious. She had heard this story a couple times before, but she didn`t want to seem too distant.

“I know! With the dramatic pause and everything!... Jesus Christ that was so damn funny, but let me tell you, I didn’t let him know that!”

Rook settled himself, and resumed in more technical terms, talking with his hands as he described the next part of the story.

“So Trip here was hungover something fierce, and judging by the bottle in his hand, he was trying to drink his way out of it. That didn`t really help his situation, because he was almost three feet on shore at that point, and nobody else seemed to give enough of a damn to help. At that point, only a few people had whipped out their phones to take pictures of it”

“You know I`m really disappointed that I don`t get to tell this story, because I`m sure someone must`ve called the cops” Trip added, partly shameful that he was drunk, alone, at sea, which is something every fisherman knows is incredibly dangerous.

“Well they only called the cops after I pulled the next stunt…so I got the idea to just unhitch my truck, and just… push him out to sea”

“No way!” spencer interjected, amazed that such a thing could even be accomplished. He remembered a time when the whole family was on leave, and the car his parents rented to go to the beach almost got stuck in the sand. Should`ve known better.

“Yes way, so I deflated my tires a bit, and after twenty minutes of that, I just drove out and over, and ever so slowly, pushed him out to sea. Now I had either neglected to tell him, or maybe he just forgot that I was going to do this, so he was just freaking out this whole time just screaming, “what are you doing you crazy white man!”

Rook had attempted to impersonate Trip`s accent in that last part, which got a good laugh out of the whole crew.

“So once I had got him free, I got a little thought in my head, and I just said “Hey, fuck it” and I jumped on the boat with him”

“That`s fuckin insane man” Spencer replied, noticing Margo almost hanging on his shoulder, the heat of her overworked body warming his right arm, just barely out of reach.

“Two days later, a few angry calls with the truck company and the bank, and here I am…you see that house on the end of the dock used to be Trip`s old dive, but I bought it for a pretty sum from him, and paid for most of the boat. And that my scrawny friend, is how a low down truck driver became the captain of a lobster boat. Fun story eh?”

Work continued as normally as it does on a Saturday in the sea. The only thing that changed really about the routine is that on this particular Saturday, Rook demanded that they all go bowling at the only lanes in town, which for reasons…disappointingly within comprehension, was called, “The Long Dock”.

Nobody in the crew actually had a car, because really, there wasn`t a need. Besides, the only thing you could buy on the island were old steel shipping containers with wheels, or whatever passed for drivable in the pool of old Chevrolets or Cadillac’s imported back in the 80s. Only a small, select few of wealthy CEO`s camped out on the far side of the island actually had new, even nice cars, but they rarely mixed with the gentiles of Tileo. Why would they? The cobblestone streets were so awfully maintained that you could lose a toddler in the gaps. For the Crew though, they wouldn`t have it any other way. People like Rook and Margo grew up hating rich guys and their million dollar carbon-coated palaces. The real fun of Tileo was just walking the streets, brushing up against the occasional sweaty islander, weaving and winding through the historical pathways and not so new infrastructure. It was an organic experience, which began to clash at the bowling alley.

You see, the only really well developed, actually paved road that ran through the outskirts of town, went by the alley. All of that roadwork and development had happened during the nickel mining boom back in the 80s, which “The Long Dock” truly reflected. Gaudy neon lighting, stale, pale concrete walls, and brushed steel and glass doors that looked like the rust was finally getting to them. In the parking lot, the dichotomy was clearly noticeable. On the right side of the doors, there were Maseratis, Porches, Mclarens, so on and so forth. On the left, were the old Ford trucks, the beamers, and even the occasional indian motorcycle.

The inside of the alley was equally divided, hell there were even separate counters on each side. Over the last five years or so, the rich guys and their heirs began to notice something about their collective of mansions and resorts they called Keith`s Bay. What a god awful name it had, and how tasteless all their neighbors were. Each one would try to one up the other, adding an infinity pool or a twelve story New England lighthouse. Between the upper-middle class tourists and sheltered trust fund kids, a few of the residents formed a small clique, the only clique that ever ducked out of town for more than twenty minutes to go into the jungle and “focus their chi” with the maid. These ten or twelve guys were a bunch of savvy internet millionaires, old coal mine owners, and fast food moguls that felt that because they went to the bowling alley twice a week, they were the “real islanders”, and the rest of the whiney losers that just hung out in town were inferior to them.

Of course the locals and others like the crew had some disdain for these guys. Not that they were rich, but that:

“They really just fuck with the way everyone is around here. I`ve been to that stupid fucking “Douche Bay” man. All it is, is a bunch of huge, white buildings…and I`m not a racist or anything Spence, but the whole place is just filled with Asians who don`t speak a lick of English”

“I think they`re Koreans man” Spence added, trying to break up Trip`s angry monologue with some analysis as they picked out their balls.

Spence always chose a purple ball. He didn`t know why. He didn’t care. It`s just a habit like any other. But for some reason, he felt pissed that the guys from Douche Bay had monopolized the rack that the balls were on. No matter. He`d just use an orange ball. Fuckers.

“What difference does it make? Asians are Asians man” Trip continued, waiting for his turn, as Rook, as a rule, always went first.

“Hey man, you`re telling me you`re not racist, but that`s kinda racist to say. What would you think if I said hey, “Blacks are Blacks”. It just completely disregards the individual differences between the different groups, and believe me, they make the distinction” Spencer argued.

“Well at least I look different than a guy from the Bronx or a guy straight out of Darfur. They all look like they`re all coming out of the same iphone factory” Trip grunted, tossing his first ball.

“Shit…a seven ten split” he muttered

Rook and Margo laughed a little, and Spencer lightened up.

“I don`t think the bowling gods appreciated that comment” Spencer said, waiting for Trip to attempt a spare.

“Well whatever the fuck I think about Asians, the fact of the matter is that they`re being treated like slaves. They all live in these shitty condos and its like, fuck, why don`t they just build a bunkhouse and chain`em to the floor at night. They can`t leave, they all eat at the one Chinese-“

“Korean” Margo jokingly interrupted

“Fuck you Mo” Trip scoffed in an embaressed, high pitched laugh

Rook chimed in, grabbing the sides of his eyes to squint them, “Don`t you mean Fook yuu?”

Margo and Spencer mimmiked the captain, prancing around Trip, squinting their eyes and professing their love for ramen noodles. Trip`s unwarranted distrust of Asians was often the subject of teasing.

After three games of heated competition between the four, Rook emerged as the winner, by only three points over Trip.

“A truly worthy opponent...well now my wrist`s sore. Who wants a drink?” Rook bellowed.

“Not me man, it`s already midnight, I`ve gotta get home” Trip trailed off, laying his ball back on the rack

Chapter Two: Sour Shots

The greatest part about the jungles of Costa Marco was that nobody seemed to be there. At least, that was the best part to Greg. Propped up against a tree stump, balancing a tin of coffee on a rock next to the humble cooking fire, he took stock of his provisions, seeing just how long he could stay in the mountains.

“Another week maybe. So long as I don`t mind eating rice and tuna for the last few days” he muttered to himself, hoisting himself up and sliding on his poncho

It had been several months since he kicked Liz out. Or at least, that`s how everyone seemed to take stock of it. What Sam or the coven of witches Liz called friends thought about him didn’t matter He cared more about how many pairs of dry socks he had in his bag.

“It`s a midlife crisis” they`d say.

“He was always kind of an asshole”

“You deserved better anyway”

After it all went down, he was barraged with calls from her friends, who either berated him, or acted as mediators for negotiations. That was how he got the money to take some time off. Climbing around the tight path of a mountain trail, he began to rant, as he always would when he was positive he was alone. The trees and the snakes were the only ones who seemed to listen anyway.

“She sold the fucking café…bet it was for a vacation with a little peurto rican guy” he grunted, hoping over a log

“At least she gave me half. Fucking half…goddamn I hate her. Every opportunity she got to tell me to fuck myself, she took it. Then she pisses and moans about being lonely…ha…never was a problem before I met you…”

This kind of therapy could go either way for Greg at this point. He would either put a machete through a tree, or he`d end up laying on a rock, calmly listening to the rustling of wild boars in the bushes.

He had the money to do these kind of things now. Early retirement was treating him well. But overall, he wasn`t satisfied.

At least, not until he put together the perfect storm of simplistic material satisfaction.

“Ok Greg…just like the little seniorita in Kipp`s Cove taught you”

He had stopped at the peak of the lush mountain cliff, sluffing off his pack and setting Tequila`s little wooden cage to the side, under the shade of a leafy bush. Pulling a couple of limes and a tin cup out of his pockets, he began to ruminate on his recent bar-hopping adventures. Greg was a real people person, a man of culture. It was also his personal belief, that the best way to understand a people and their ways was to drink what they drank, the way they drank it.

“And the Venezuelans are bitter socialists” he said, as he spat out the strange concoction he conducted from memory

Watching the acrid liquid drip down the rock as the afternoon sun braized his skin suddenly gave him a bout of existential dread. This wasn’t the life he wanted to live. This wasn`t anywhere near where he wanted to be at his age. Farting around on a tropical island with a lizard, divorced, unemployed, pickling himself with every latin beverage under the sun.

“Christ…Pete`s a goddamned English professor. Josh has what- seven kids?” he muttered to himself, taking stock of the accomplisments of his old college friends.

“And I mean, Fred smoked so much weed we thought he`d lose a chromosome. Now he`s making six figures with a tire company”.

Greg`s morose self pity turned to anger, and then to a calm, quite acceptance. There was a reason he went on these hikes. To disconnect himself from that kind of anxiety and appreciate his surroundings, slowly mellowing his mood with a neat burbon and Cuban cigar, allowing the breeze to massage his lurid eyes.

“Regardless…there needs to be a change” he said, swaying the bottle over to Tequila`s bowl, giving him a few more drops.

“Nothing major. The last thing I need is to go back to the states. They`d probably institutionalize me the second I got off the plane”

Greg chuckled to himself, feeling the handle of his machete gouging into his side as he took another swig.

“I need a simple job. A simple job, that makes me feel fulfilled *swig* as a man”

By this time, the horizon was dark with storm clouds and an evening sunset coming on, creating a molasses enamel on all the rocks on the shore. In the distance, Greg could see the ships coming in, bobbing gently on the calm ocean glass. Soon, fantasies of being out on the open ocean fishing the ocean`s bounty danced across his addled brain.

“what a wonderful profession. Where being a drunk shrew is actually a virtue”

Or so he thought

That night, a storm did indeed roll over the island. It was fierce, for sure, but not fierce enough to stop the festivities from continuing inside one of the many lively dive bars. There were even a few fishermen playing a rather extreme drinking game. If you flinched at a lightening strike, you drank. As you could probably guess, Spencer wasn`t doing too well.

“Look at him, still shaking like a leaf even three shots in!” Trip scolded

It was true. Spencer was in fact, visibly nervous. Not neccesarily because the thunder and lightening were beginning to sear the masts of every boat in the harbor, but because the alcohol was beginning to convince him that now was the time confront Margo about his feelings. Rook, sporting an even longer salt and pepper beard, could see from the head of the table at the back of the sour smelling shack that the kid was going to make a big mistake. And, maybe, a small part of him was feeling territorial.

Placing his big paw of a left hand on spencer`s chest, he saved him

“ Boy, stay down. Look at these hands” he gargled, slamming a beer down in his right hand

At that moment, a flash and rumble, but not a single quiver from those beastly mitts.

Spencer was forced to try and get ahold of the reigns of his depth perception. Standing felt like something he was disinterested, the sullen and aged booth he sat at becoming fuzzy to the touch. Suddenly the seven or maybe only five shots he had downed had caught up to him all at once, and he wasn`t going to have any more, or else risk an incident like last month where Trip had ruined strawberries for him forever.

Margo was far more sober, but certaintly not by choice. Nobody else had noticed but she had only finished half of her glass of light beer from the tap that may as well have been creek water given its quality and the horrifically poorly washed glass it came in. Her interests were growing more and more desperate with every joke or story she had to smirk and gesticulate her way through. The only thing keeping her from picking up her chair and using it to fight her way through the packed cigar box of a dive bar she was crammed in to get home and get her shit was the face that the storm outside could put a two by four through her chest at any minute. Death might be preferable to having to pan across the bar one more time to see the well exposed crack of Captain Stug`s ass trying to escape his cargo shorts at the bar. Stug was too old of a salt for anyone that wasn`t the bartender to tell him what to do, so on his ass marched outward as stug got more and more drunk. Christ. It was like watching a seal clubbing on national geographic. Could’ve been hilarious if it wasn’t so hard to watch.

“10 bucks I get this quarter in there” Rook said, holding the silver coin between his calloused index finger and thumb. Margo noticed that the whole table had been staring like she did. Spencer saw that others in the room were either giving Stug a wide berth, or sizing up their own marksmanship competitions.

Looking to find some immature joy, Margo joined in.

“I`ll fucking take that. You haven`t thrown a hook since I came on, doubt you could hit an ass crack at twenty paces” Margo joked. The others would have laughed if they weren`t all pushed to their respective limits. Margo and Rook slammed down what their bleary eyes perceived to be ten dollars a piece on the stained wood table, then Rook sized up his target. In one majestic, fluid motion the quarter left his hand, flying straight and true over the bar counter, tapping between bottles of whatever the hell Cesar could stack behind him.

“gat..damnint” Rook grumbled, shuffling back into his seat as Margo swabbed her hand across the table, scooping up the crumpled dollars. She didn`t care. She needed to go home.

The taste in her mouth was like she`d threw up a flower shop. She hated it she hated it she hated it. The heat and the sweat and the air and the smell the smell the smell. Too many people too many things, eyes, sandels, fucking stray cats every fucking five fucking feet in this tiny fucking block on this tiny fucking island. Home. She needed to get home.

Margo suddenly, abandoning any kind of formal convention, stood up and walked out of the bar, the wind and rain whipping momentarily like a jack in the box as she opened and closed the door behind her. Spencer was too out of it to do anything, but others were slightly alarmed. A few, tired of waiting, tried to follow her out but were blown back by healthy gusts of wind. Spencer was worried. And he wondered why she would leave like that.

“Should we call the cops? No way she makes it out there!” he yelled to Trip and Rook

“Cops are busy enough, wouldn`t risk it. Woman`s always been skittish. Her house ain`t far so I wouldn`t worry too much. Either of you wanna hear about the time I got held up by a biker gang?” Rook largely brushed off Spencer`s distress, motioning to a waitress for more whatever would occupy his time. This grew into what could only be a fruitless and flirtatious conversation.

Spencer turned to Trip for some sympathy.

“ Are you just going to sit back and let this happen?”

“ If anything man she`s got the right idea. I`ve gotta go check on my family at some point tonight. The whipping I`ll get if I`m not back by midnight oof” Trip joked.

No one was taking him seriously, which would have made Spencer feel uneasy if he were more sober, but like any young guy with a background like his, he was curious.

“well I`m going” Spencer said, gathering his wallet and finishing his drink. He put up his hood on his rubber coat, bracing himself for his excursion. Before he left, Trip followed behind him with his own boat issued rubber coat, and the two of them turned to give a gruff but well understood farewell to Rook, who was far more comfortable wading out the whole storm and then some in the back of that bar.

“I think you`re crazy boy” Trip said to Spencer.

“But good luck anyway. I`ll see you whenever Rook says its safe to work again” Trip said, putting his hand on Spencer`s shoulder, then opening the door, fighting the wind walking towards his home on the shore.

Spencer couldn`t believe it, but the wind felt rather calm as he walked towards margo`s home. It was almost as if all the old geezers and shop owners were just trying to find an excuse to drink, or at least jumped on a better excuse than most. As he crossed the street past the more tourist focused bar with its stained colonial white walls, a gust of wind picked him up off his feet and tossed him on the cobblestone street, with every attempt to fight the gust and stand up just resulting in him being rolled another five feet down the street. This dance lasted for what felt like an eternity, until he crawled behind an old chocolate shop to get out of the wind.

“Sweet jesus…how the hell did Margo do in this?”

Clinging hand over hand to the railings on the storefronts, Margo finally reached the trail that led to her home. All that it took was a run over a fairly wide patch of open ground to the start of the trail. Her mind wandered to the swaying of the trees in the violent wind, how small she felt as she watched a hundred trees move like dogs on a beach playing with a ball. Digging in her heels and thinking only of the sweet relief behind a mere hundred or so yards of woods. Thinking only of relief, of calm, of the comfort that awaited her so close in the present, her body moved like she was all tendon. Her desperation drove her arms and legs to precisely and intensely grip the trees and earth, when she stumbled, to nearly fling herself towards her front door. Her body slammed against the wood door like it was a queen sized bed with silk sheets. Before she could process anything else she was inside, and feet guiding her unconsciously to the drawer she kept her stash. Clean clean finally clean. Cold and clear and free free from fat hairy yellow toothed bastards.

Sweet Christ. How did she ever go any longer than a day without this?

Spencer wasn`t sure if she had made it home. The wind was getting worse and worse and there was no way

#my writing

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