asherxvaughn

[asherxvaughn]

"It means that when you say I love you, there's always a catch. That it just goes away if someone does something you don't like." He poked Tristan lightly in the chest, "That's what it means." Asher could justify every single decision he made quite easily, but it never truly filled what he wanted it to. There was so much that felt like he was doing, and enough that he chose to remain ignorant to.

"I'm glad you're happy." It clearly meant everything considering Asher wasn't part of it; Tristan didn't have to say that out loud for Ash to get the picture. "I have to be, Tris. Sometimes we get to pick what we do, and sometimes we don't." The weight of everyone's expectations always hung on Asher's shoulders, including his friend's. "And since you had that luxury, I'm glad. Just cut the shit. Keep hating me, and I'll still be here if you need me."

"I didn't say that." No, though Tristan had certainly implied it. Unintentionally, though he'd done it all the same. "Wow— seriously?" He half-laughs, somewhat in shock. "Unlike your father, I've actually said 'I love you' before. So fuck off with that shit."

"There's one very specific thing you wouldn't have done for me, actually. Do you know how I know that? Because I asked you not to, and you still did it." Tristan remembers the day, the moment, the second Asher told him about joining the police force — and every word he'd spilled after that, attempting to convince his friend otherwise. "It's not a contingency. Whatever that word means." Something bad, he assumes. "You just chose your path, and I chose mine. I'm happy with mine." Part of him wishes Asher could see what he's built; the legion of members that follow him and his war cries. "Are you happy with yours?"

[asherxvaughn]

Asher huffed out a laugh, "I'll get on that." He pulled at the collar of his shirt, the fancy place something that definitely wasn't like the goodwill, but it was the next best thing he could equate it to. As it was, Asher wasn't one for big fancy events, but it checked out – he could relax with his time off, mingle, maybe meet Mr. Right in the bathroom – all good things. "What about the main event? You bidding on that?" He blinked when Anais said she didn't know what Goodwill was, and that actually checked out as well. "Maybe it's best we save Goodwill for another wild night. It's not as competitive."

"Introduce me to your father," she quips, "and I might promote you to whatever name of your liking. Until then, I'm afraid you're the only Mr. Vaughn I know." Anaïs lifts her wine to match Asher's champagne in a lazy toast, then. "I suppose criminal sketches have their place, though you won't necessarily see any at the Louvre. Would you want the praise?" Then, Anaïs laughs. "Big fan — I already have a few bids in, but it's later when competition really makes it fun. I don't know what Goodwill is, but if you're saying it's similar, it sounds like my kind of party."

[asherxvaughn]

"I'm glad you equate some good old fashion trauma to being a coward. You sound just like him." Asher deadpanned, though he lost most of the heat behind his eyes. This wasn't something he wished to do, argue with Tristan, demand who was right and who was wrong, they were too old for that, now.

"We never kept track of that, but do you always bring this up to make people feel guilty, Tris? I've never forgotten. Why do you think I jump at the sight of your name? There's nothing I wouldn't have done for you. You put invisible strings on our friendship. A contingency. I needed you, too. I wanted to change this, for kids like us. For you. And that wasn't enough."

"Mmm, I don't know, maybe grow some balls?" Tristan suggests. "Not do something just because it'd make daddy happy?"

"I helped you, Ash. Every time you needed it, I helped you." Back in the day, his home was but a humble space with little room to live in — and certainly not enough to spare. Yet he would take Asher in more often than not, sharing all he had and also what he had not. It wasn't a favor, nor charity, or owed debt. It was just... friendship, plain and simple. "But I guess it's convenient to forget that now."

[asherxvaughn]

Asher couldn't help the constriction in his chest, something about all Selim had been through, everything that he knew about the other over greasy takeaway boxes, made him wish that everyone got the chance to live a little bit without worrying about work. Still, he was just a cop for the NYPD, the other was a goddamn FBI agent, so Asher figured he could let his worry slide for the time being. "Please. I don't think I'll go higher than I need to," he gave a half smile, something about never being good enough echoing in it.

"Well...yeah. Have you ever been to Dublin? The Guinness factory? I still dream about it. Tortured you? At least you're not dramatic."

Selim clicks his tongue. "I'm a fully reinstated agent now, Vaughn, that means picking up the NYPD's slack with over-time and gross bureau coffee." It was a playful tease, one that perhaps, threaded down through generations upon generations of FBI-Police relations since the beginning of time. He laughs fondly then, "If it were up to me, I'd define it as 'right place, right time' — it's not every day that an off-duty cop finds himself in the middle of a federal investigation by accident. I'd be careful though, if you get too good at your job, they might try to recruit you." "Guinness? If you could have anything as a 'thank you', you'd choose a Guinness? Not a million dollars? A trip to Disney? Or take-out from that shitty Chinese place you tortured me with for months?"

[asherxvaughn]

"Of course, grandpa. What time should we get you back to the home?" Asher grumbled when he was called Bernstein, he had to dig deep for that reference, but at least he got it in the end. "Stupidity is easy to find in bars now and days. It's not like all of this stuff gets handled on its own." How much crime ran rampant? Ash didn't have the desire to think about it at the moment, but still, he let himself get pulled in the right direction of the bar. If Halil wasn't frustrating and an asshole, Asher would've turned away. Instead, he let his desire to drink win. "Why, because of your perfectly coifed hair? Better get us some good drinks, then."

Halil laughs, clicking his tongue disapprovingly despite the grin that hadn't left his face since he'd noticed him. Finding a happy medium between teasing the officer with half-truths and humour and genuine evasion of questions, denial, and distractions was easy for the most part; the new generation of cops were getting smarter and smarter — and over-confidence could be his downfall here. "Cronies?" The man questions, his brows knitted together. "I'm a geography professor, officer, not a gangster. If I was and I knew him, I would offer an apology on his behalf — because it looks like you've made him suffer more for his stupidity than anything I could ever do to him" He can't help the amused chuckle that tilts his head backward at the memory of the sorry look on the other guy's face when he'd seen him step from the his vehicle. It'd been enough to dismantle his own anger altogether.

Then, he motions toward the entrance of the bar, an offer of company and fun, as much as a cop and a trafficker could have together anyway. "Come on, Bernstein — let's make sure nobody else ruins the remainder of your night then. Just the sight of me will make anyone thinking if disrespecting anyone think twice."

[asherxvaughn]

Paul Mescal Gets Ready for the Gladiator II Premiere | Last Looks | Vogue

[asherxvaughn]

Asher tilted his head, though he'd never forgotten all that had happened in his life. Late nights on a rotted playground, a joint to take the worries away – being sixteen felt like a reprieve to the world that Asher had gotten himself involved in. How many times had he seen a flash of Tristan's name, or other's that he'd gotten to know, floating around a detective's desk? He preferred to play the ignorant card, it was always better than facing his demons. "You'd rather I just...what?" There'd never been an alternative – he could at least help a few people before he died. "I'm trying to help people. You should understand why – you knew me. No one helped me. No one helped you. I can do that for someone like us."

It is a good joke, and in any other scenario — no — any other time, Tristan would have laughed that bright laugh of his, and jokingly promised revenge. Which, of course, would never come.

"Yeah, I come all the time. Weirdly, you're nowhere to be found." Matching Asher's humor — that he can do. But it fades as soon as it comes, now that the elephant in the room has been addressed by first and last name. Tristan allows his arms to fall back to his sides, one hand catching the joint he'd stored in wait. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. I didn't give you the silent treatment — you gave me the 'does something stupid that hurts your friend without thinking twice' treatment. We were tight, Ash. You fucked that up, not me."

[asherxvaughn]

"Please, not the Mr. Vaughn. I told you that's my dad, not me." Still, Asher gave his friend a small smile, despite her formality making him flush. He held up a glass of champagne, "It's not really my scene, but I like art. I used to think I should do criminal sketches, but...I don't know." He didn't need to get all into that, anyway. "You can find some good shit at the auction. It's like the good will. And you? Big fan of this stuff?"

@asherxvaughn setting: the eden gallery, event

"Mr. Vaughn," she says, a clear showcase of how old habits die hard. Formalities are ingrained in her blood like so many other old-fashioned customs are. It means nothing for intimacy —or lack thereof—, however. Across courtrooms or prison halls, they had shared more than just surface-level conversation. Still— she hadn't yet seen him outside that world, or that uniform. Until now. "I would never have assumed this is your scene."

"If only I'd known — we could have taken up auction-hopping as a hobby." One she already entertains often, admittedly. "Though, I'm not sure if we'd be breaking any rules."

[asherxvaughn]

Asher was definitely going to have to find a new bar. Some guys got off on the whole officer thing, he wasn't sure how many times he'd been asked about cuffs, but Ash wasn't drunk enough for this yet. Especially not the sight of a friend that had chosen to abandon him (Asher's dramatization) because of his career path. Even if there had been conversations, loyalty and all that, Asher couldn't escape the weight of his father's expectations and temper, and he'd let Tristan down in the process.

"Tris – you don't have to avoid this bar because of little old me, you know. Bottomless brunch is only on Sundays." It was a good joke, a great joke really, as Asher avoided the crowd to move closer. He put his hands up in mock surrender to mirror the other, "You giving me the silent treatment got old a few years ago, y'know."

Born and raised in New York, Tristan is used to this city — to the city, and its people. The late night parties, the protests, the bar fights. With that, there's no alarm as an altercation breaks out around him; some guy said this, another did that. He knows how it goes.

And yes, he knows Asher, too. Though he hadn't expected to ever see him again — save for across the crowd, where they stood at clear opposite sides.

"I don't know anything, Officer." He makes a point to be overly formal, overly... dickish. Tristen shifts then, pocketing his phone and holding his joint between his teeth as he puts both hands up in a movie-like fashion. "You wanna pat me down, too? Just don't get too handsy, I'm taken."

[asherxvaughn]

"But you know what Adam looks like?" Asher couldn't help his joke, though he looked at the drunken mess sitting down on the steps like he was in time out. "You know what, I bet that too. Sorry, I didn't want to disturb your night. But you never know. Maybe he belongs to someone and they let him out for too long."

Attending bars alone wasn't really Audra's speed. Walking past, however, and judging the patrons that were being kicked out, really very much was. It was usually passing judgement, however. A smile, a downwards look. It's rare that she's ever spoken to. "I don't know this man from Adam, love." Her head tilts. "Though I have to imagine he always looks funny."

[asherxvaughn]

Asher hummed in agreement, his buzz already reminding him that he needed to go back inside. It was why he'd so easily snapped into action the minute things had gotten physical. He was not the guy to throw punches unless one was thrown first, any sort of violence the last thing on his mind. He'd have to go into the bathroom soon to try and get the blood out of one of his favorite sweaters as is. Still, as he turned to face the voice, there was a flash in the back of his mind. Some sort of familiarity that he couldn't place in an alcohol hazed mind. He chalked it up to the guy being attractive and at a bar, and Ash didn't think about it much more than that before the flash of a siren pulled up.

"I hear the longer you stare at it, the more depressed you get," Asher deadpanned, a smirk on his face as he watched Fatih stare into the glass like it was going to answer all of his thoughts out loud. Ash had been there before, was still there, and it didn't seem like either of them were that interested in letting their heads sit above water for long. "Scotch, please," Asher tilted his head with a small smile at the bartender, though his attention was taken by the stranger beside him. "I just thought he was being too loud. And during Pride? Hateful."

"know him? nah," fatih said, his voice low, rough but not unkind. he tilted his head, meeting asher's gaze with a flicker of defiance, the kind that came naturally when you'd grown up dodging fists and questions. "but he was lookin' funny in general, and i ain't one to really care much for that kind of attitude. i'm just trying to get a buzz, man." he shrugged, the motion casual, despite sharp eyes taking in the scene before him, fatih held a calm demeanor as he usually did. well, almost. the sound of sirens in the distance instantly twisted the pits of his stomach, as if barbed wire was being wrapped around his insides and tightened.

"right. well, it seems you've got this all under control." he gestured to the man that had gotten his shit rocked, flashing the stranger who had spoken to him a crooked, charming smile. "i'll see you inside, hopefully." with that, the man turned to step into the bar. he was casual about it, but fatih wanted nothing, not a single thing, to do with law enforcement and he tried to avoid it as much as he could. he had done a good job at keeping his head down and playing the role of an innocent civilian since his time out, but he'd rather not push his luck. nothing was on his side, the universe especially, and the last thing the man needed was to do something that could once more put the syndicate in hot waters. he survived it once, he wasn't going to make it out alive again.

settled in at the bar, with a whiskey in hand, fatih let the weight carried in his bones slowly begin to lessen. he wished he had some other escape, besides drowning in liquor, and the occasional joint, but such was life. he couldn't shut his mind off and that was the biggest frustration of all these days. was it too much to ask for just a moment? apparently, it was. and who knows how long he had sat there, staring at the amber colored liquor in his cup, before he glanced up to notice the man from earlier. while typically fatih wouldn't bother getting to know strangers, this one intrigued him for some reason. or maybe he was just lonely and needed some sort of company.

"glad to see you made it in," fatih teased, smiling a bit. he polished off the last bit of whiskey in his glass, flagging down the bartender. "same for me, and whatever our local hero here is having," he nodded to his newly found company, his smile spreading a bit. little did he know he was sitting next law enforcement, perhaps for the best. "do you think you're going to spend the night clocking every drunken asshole here or are you ready to sit back and relax a bit?"

[asherxvaughn]

The voice brought an instant grin to his face, something he couldn't help when he put his hands up, "Crazy you'd be here, Selim. But it also checks out. You, a bar, and working. And here I thought I was the one that hardly got a day off." He flexed his hand, holding it up with the bruising on his knuckles soft but present. "I was giving seventh avenue a break, thought I'd venture out somewhere new. Guess I picked the wrong bar and the wrong timing. I'll take your thank you for solving your investigation as a big pint of Guinness, though. No need to beg me."

On-duty; wired and watching, he'd been startled by a fist fight that had broken out in the middle of the bar — now with FBI across his back, trying to keep his amusement under control, he stands outside with both the man who'd landed punches and the other who had taken them laying in wait for authorities. "Yeah, I know him — which goes without saying, you're interfering with an FBI investigation." This time he does snort a laugh before controlling it for professionalism. "I don't think he can look at me funny, Ash." Selim deadpans from a well-intentioned, playful place, his amusement sparkling in his dark eyes. "How're your knuckles?"

[asherxvaughn]

It took most of Asher's willpower not to roll his eyes. He closed them instead, praying to God to just let him wake up from the dream he must be in. God must've been busy, because he felt Halil's hand on his shoulder, and Asher was still standing outside the bar. "Was it that good? I've been practicing my left hook." His scowl was immediate, watching as the man was picked up and pulled to the side. He had to remind himself he currently wasn't getting paid to do any of this, so the bar was calling his name again.

Pushing Halil's arm off of his shoulder, Asher sighed. It was a classic bitch face, but one that eventually warped into something that resembled a kid needing a nap. "Tell your cronies or...besties to stop harassing people, and I could stick to a sketchbook instead of their faces. He ruined the start of my night."

The end of June — summer; no lectures, no digs until August; many would consider Halil off-duty like the man standing in front of The Pink Flamingo just after sunset. It wasn't the truth, of course, in fact, Halil would argue that summer was far busier for him than when classes were in session. He'd tucked Aslan and Ozan into bed, kissed his partners goodbye and left the family man at home with them as he walked out their front door into the warmth of New York City's night life. Halil's phone had lit up with a blocked number, and in the spirit of being friendly, he'd answered; a good and bad thing for the man currently being held by Asher. No police were coming — Halil made sure they'd be re-routed to a different club before he'd gotten in the car.

Expecting the walking cliche to be inside tending to his well-deserved wounds, blue eyes nearly roll out of their sockets when they fall on him, sitting on the stairs, holding a tissue to his still-bleeding nose and looking worse than he normally did. "ya bak..." Halil sighs dramatically, pointing toward the scene. With a wave of his hand, his private security starts toward the idiot with every intention to haul him into the alley and teach him a lesson for preying on anyone. Until Halil's eyes fall on him, blood-stained, and wearing a grin as he asks him a question; Asher Vaughn, his favourite officer, never really off-duty apparently. The transporter's hand falls to his security's chest to tell him to stop and he merely shakes his head at Asher's question. "I can't tell, officer," A cruel grin curls on the man's lips as his forearm comes to rest on Asher's shoulder. "Whoever made art out of his face made identifying him difficult for me."

[asherxvaughn]

location: outside a bar open starter

Asher was technically off duty, the officer looking down at the man that had gotten in a fight and thrown out of the bar that Asher was about to get drunk in, maybe get busy in the bathroom, and grab a hotdog on his way home. Instead, he was standing there, blood on his shirt, from where he'd decked the guy after he'd been irritating a girl inside. Ash wondered if the walking cliches would ever get a hint, but then again, this was New York. He turned to the person beside him, a smirk on his face, "You know this guy? Or was he just looking at you funny, too?" The cops would pick him up in a minute, and Ash could go back to getting wasted on his day off.

[asherxvaughn]

It was his luck that he'd just polished off his second drink of the night when Savannah finally made her way back to the bar. "Jesus Christ. Did you pack on the food before taking on half the bar?" Ash gave a wry smile, turning his head to look over his shoulder at the group that was taking their clear loss in stride. He was more of a sponge, his alcohol tolerance was built up over time. "Or do you start drinking right outta the womb in the south?" His smile was genuine, and maybe it was because he was in good company and got another drink, "A Guinness, please."

where: dealer's choice, but a bar who: savannah & open

savannah knew damn well she was playin’ those boys like a fiddle. they took one look at her—petite frame, sweet smile—and figured she couldn’t hold her liquor. bless their hearts. that kind of mistake was gonna cost ‘em. clearly, they’d never tossed back drinks with a real Southern belle before.

“well now, boys, that was a hoot,” she drawled, a sly little smirk tugging at her lips as she gathered up the cash scattered across the table. a bit of gamblin’ never hurt nobody. with a wink and a wave, she turned and sauntered up to the bar, hips swayin’ like she had all the time in the world.

“suga, I’ll take a bourbon sidecar,” she said, leaning one elbow on the counter. then, with a glance to her side and a grin that could melt butter, she added, “and whatever they’re havin’, put it on me.”

[asherxvaughn]

Name: Asher Vaughn Age / Birthday: 29 & 10/30/1995 Gender, Pronouns & Sexuality: Cis man, He/Him, Homosexual Hometown: Brooklyn, New York Affiliation: civilian, NYPD Job Position: Police Officer for NYPD Education: NYPD Police Academy Relationship Status: single Children: None Positive Traits: Loyal, Street-smart, Charismatic, Resourceful, Creative Negative Traits: Cynical, Haunted, Cold, Addictive personality, Depressed

biography.

New York is the city of dreams for most…unless you’re a kid with a bad attitude from Brooklyn. 

Asher wasn’t always this way. He had a few dreams as a kid, like firefighting, or painting – his journals were always filled with sketches, somewhere between a dreamer and a kid of action, he always managed to make time to get into trouble. His father was a stalwart figure of the NYPD, Raymond Vaughn always ruling his roof like he was ruling a prison block. That may have been Asher’s own exaggeration, but when you’re a young boy who idolizes his father, it’s hard to look past the many faults until it’s too late. 

His mother had left when he was young, the exhaustion of New York and the fact that she never truly wanted to be a mom weighing on her until she packed up and left. She left Asher her own journal, filled with her dreams she’d put on hold to move to New York for her husband. 

It left a bitter taste in Asher’s father’s mouth. Late nights mulling over the fact that the youngest star of the police department couldn’t keep it together in his own home. It turned into the place smelling like alcohol and broken dreams, pushing Asher out of the house and into the Brooklyn streets so he could have a semblance of quiet in his life. 

Life was exactly what he expected it to be. Kids getting into trouble on the streets, constant brushes with the law, any sort of drug under the sun, Ash tried them all. He had little supervision, his father’s emotional absence something Asher filled with the friends he made from his run down neighborhood. 

No son of Raymond Vaughn was going to be a dropout, however. It was always implied that Asher would join the force. Nepotism at its finest, the gaps in Asher’s life he’d let fill with alcohol and drugs would be filled by the academy. His past transgressions easily forgotten, pushed into the Academy without a second thought, Asher gave up his own dreams to do what he was supposed to. 

His father’s expectations hung over his head like an angry stormcloud. Marry a nice girl, have a few kids, that would make their world all the better. But for Asher, it was a living nightmare. 

Getting into the NYPD at age 26 was the least he could do to push off his father’s endless expectations. Asher is no stranger to the world of crime that surrounds them, the police officers that remain corrupt within the force, paid off by those who have the higher powers. He tries to stay on the straight and narrow, the whispers of the drugs and the crime that pulses from beneath the city tainting every call he answers, every case he tags along with – it’s there, simmering beneath the surface. Three years on the force has only taught him that the monsters can’t be caged, they can only be pacified – and perhaps that’s where he straddles the line of doing his job, and looking the other way. Lest his desires push him down a road he’s already tried to leave behind.

connections.

tbd!

[asherxvaughn]

PAUL MESCAL W Magazine