#and now it's the smoking gun singling him out as the only person smart enough to be able to accomplish something so stupid

[icedteaandoldlace]

Y'all, I just noticed the ominous reprise of Smart Smart Smart Smart Baby playing in the background when Miguel's boss asks him if he took down the firewall, and I'm dying. 😂

[fruitsoxs]

roberto drabble????? staring 👁👁 love me an old man

happy dilf day <3

pairing; roberto de niro x (AFAB) reader warnings; !nsfw minors dni!, smut, thigh riding, pwp tbh

notes; uhhhhhhhh anyway-

“Well this is…bad luck…” His gruff voice sends shivers down your spine, his lips dangerously close to your ear. It comes out in a soft whisper. Currently, you’re pressed up against each other in the tightest space known to man, hiding away from the gunshots outside. Your face is crammed into his chest, his smell (some cheap cologne mixed with cigarette smoke) invading every breath you take.  One of his arms wrapped around your back and the other pressed against the wall behind you. You’re almost straddling one of his legs, which is making you go absolutely insane with the horniest  thoughts. You’re pressed so close together that every movement feels intimate. 

It happened so fast. One moment the group was simply traveling along a small town, stopping to grab some water. Next thing you know one of the locals recognizes Vash, and soon enough every single person is after the bounty on his head. They don’t seem to care who you are either, you’re with Vash so they were on your ass too. Roberto, being the fast thinker he is, decided to suddenly pull you along with him into a tight space between two buildings.

You’re definitely hidden from the fight outside, but now you’re stuck like this. For who knows how long. 

Another gunshot from outside makes you flinch, and the older man sighs as he pulls you closer. His hand on your back moves in comforting circles. His touch is so soft. You can’t seem to relax though. The action outside is scary, but the real problem is that you have this huge crush on this old reporter. Being so close to him is making your heart beat so fast you’re sure it’s about to explode.

He shifts around slightly, his leg pressing a bit too close to a place you have only dreamed he would touch. “Sorry.” He mumbles, his breath hitting your ear. Your hands grip into the fabric of his shirt, as you try to keep it together. He must notice your distress because he pauses for a moment. “What’s wrong?” he asks. You bite your cheek, suddenly very glad your head is pressed into his chest. He can’t see how red your face is. “Just nervous. Don’t want to die here” You reply.

It isn’t a lie, but it isn’t the full truth either. You’re nervous for sure, but it’s definitely not because of the gunshots outside. He lets out a soft “Hm” and leans in closer. “Now feel free to push me out there into the fire if I’m wrong, but I don’t quite believe you.” He whispers, his hand on your back moving up to the back of your head. “You’ve never been this nervous around guns before.” He continues, and the space suddenly feels even smaller. He’s too smart.

When you don’t answer he chuckles. It’s a low chuckle that makes his chest vibrate. 

Suddenly his leg shifts again, applying just a little bit of pressure between your legs. You let out a soft whimper and tense up right away. What is he doing? There’s no way he’s doing this on purpose right? But he proves you wrong by moving his leg again. This time the pressure is more intense. Your hips move on their own, seeking that sweet feeling. “There you go.” He mumbles, and suddenly his lips are trailing down your neck. He bites and sucks at the sensitive spot.

Soft moans leave your lips. His facial hair tickles your skin a bit, but you don’t mind. It all feels good. Too good to be happening while you’re hiding away from a bunch of people that want you dead. He pushes you so your back is pressed against the wall. His hands fly down to your hips and grip them tightly. You tilt your head back finally, looking up at his own rosy cheeks. 

“Ro-Robertto-” He cuts you off by digging his nails into your hips, shushing you softly. “Shh. We don’t want everyone to hear what we’re doing, now do we?” He asks as he pulls you against his leg. Your hands fly up to your lips as you let out a muffled cry. You nod your head as he moves you against his leg. “Good girl.”

It takes everything within you not to die right there and then. Your body is on fire, eyes half lidded as you ride his leg. He grunts a bit, dilated eyes focused on your lulled out face. He seems to be enjoying this even more than you. You don’t even notice as the gunshots stop. He leans in and presses his lips against yours finally. Just as he does you feel that fire in your gut hit its peak, and suddenly you’re cumming on his leg. 

It doesn’t seem like he intends on stopping until the voices from your group start calling out for the two of you.  He slows down his movements against your sensitive cunt, smirking as he pulls away. You whine at the sudden loss of his warmth. “Don’t give me that look sweetheart.” he mumbles, pressing a soft kiss against your temple. “We can definitely go again later.” he promises before adjusting the hard on in his pants and stepping out into the sunlight again.

You follow soon after fixing your clothes. 

“Fucking Christ we’ve been looking everywhere for you two-” Wolfwood’s eyes land on your neck. “Is that a hickey?” He asks and your face turns bright red. You look over at Roberto with a slack jaw, and he shrugs. “Oops.”

[orphicrose]

The Only One

Rick x Reader Fanfiction

Summary : life is strange in the rick and morty universe, as we all know. But things get just that little bit weirder when Rick meets you. Something seems oddly familiar with you, but for once In his life he has no idea why. So he searches from reality to reality to try and see if he had met another version of you, only to realise there where none. You where the only one. That’s when it finally hit him…

This is inspired by a song from Rick and morty that I think is beautiful https://youtu.be/epiOcz3HXNo

I accidentally got carried away and wrote too much, so I will probably just do a part 2 so it’s not to much to read if anyone is interested <3

_________________꧁♥︎꧂_________________

Humans are such fragile creatures, always have been and always will be. You knew that, but you refused to surrender down to it. Not wanting to be included In whatever earth had to offer, so you ran away. And not like how a silly fourteen years old runs away from home, Hah… no.

You left the fucking planet, not leaving behind a single trail or speck of dust for someone to follow you with. Your intelligence and ambition was all you needed to carry yourself through life. Travelling the infinite void of space, soon making a name for yourself. For good and for bad. An ordinary person couldnt even dream nor comprehend the things you’ve experienced or seen. And that’s just how you liked it. Being different. It was truly a gift to be intelligent.

And then there was rick, high IQ and normally not happy about it. Seeing his intelligence as a curse. Rick hadn’t seen it all, it was impossible, but he thought he had seen enough to make a valid opinion on life.

It’s pointless.

Such a bitter man with a bitter view on everything, including himself. You see, when you have an overwhelming amount of knowledge weighing down on your mind, you can go two ways. The first being ricks way, not caring about anything since he has seen how big the universe is and doesn’t see a point.

Then there’s your way, feeling blessed to be able to see things that no one else can, and finding a new reason to live every single day.

You two where polar opposites, but also the same. You where both alone in a universe you felt didn’t need you anymore.

The day both of your worlds collided should have been written down in the history books. It was the day both of your beliefs where almost questioned. Wondering whether fate really does exist.

————————————————

Out of the many things you have done, you’ve never visited the same place twice. Making everyday an adventure, as much of a cliche as that sounds it’s true. Not only that, but you seem to have people after you almost everywhere. For your intelligence, or for revenge. But there is one particular spot you cannot get enough of. Finding yourself there when you lose yourself.

It’s an isolated planet in the middle of the andromeda galaxy. It’s a newly ‘emerging moon’ as you like to call it. In fact, you pretty much founded this planet, since its a recent creation. This also means there is no intelligent life yet evolved, so it is safe for you to do what you please.

You go there often, to watch the two suns set over its small horizon and the thousands of stars come into view. Giving you time to reflect on your life. To appreciate it, but not to regret anything. The stars are far to beautiful to bring your mind to anything negative. The planet itself seems to project the meaning of peace and tranquillity even without life. Maybe that’s why it’s so comforting.

Your thoughts where leaving your mind, as you held your eyes closed. Feeling the breeze brush through your hair gently. That beautiful, genuine smile found its way to your face without you noticing. You where to lost in the feeling of relaxation.

But that soon came to an end. That euphoric state was snapped out of you when you noticed a bright light coming towards you. Getting bigger and bigger in just seconds. Until it became more clear, it was a spacecraft of some sort. A poorly built one to say the least. You sat and watched, mesmerised, as the flames from the object slowly engulfed it. Burning in the atmosphere. Finally hitting the ground, you shook your head and sighed. Being brought back into reality.

The flames took a second to fade after the ship had crashed. And it was clearer to see, it was the stereotypical UFO. The type you’d see in cheesy ski-fi films. But it had encryptions written in English. Which was very unusual, especially for it to be in this part of the galaxy.

What was even stranger was that it didn’t have even the slightest burn mark to it’s metal. Your vision of it became clearer and clearer the closer you got, slowly creeping past the incredibly green trees towards it. But just before you got too close, a figure fell out of the vehicle. Swearing like a drunken sailor.

This is what really messed with you, it was a human. You gasped quietly, not being able to remember the last time you saw one. A mix of feelings rushed over you; confusion, fear, excitement? You couldn’t help but stare, his unique blue hair bounced as he picked himself up, not even bothering to dust off the dirt on his lab coat.

“Fuck! You fucking piece of shit spacecraft. You’ve really done it this time Rick you fucking…” he didn’t finish his sentence, as he kicked the lump of metal. Screaming at the top of his voice.

“Fuck!”

You caught a small glimpse of his face, and recognised him. But you weren’t sure where from. You had met millions of people over the years so he could really be anyone. But there was something so compelling about his character. Something that felt like you where being pushed towards him. Or pulled, by a red string perhaps. Something that was just telling you to interact with him.

You stayed hidden behind a rather tall tree, still collecting your thoughts and questioning whether you should help him. Rick had slumped himself against the ship, putting his hands to his face and grunting. Pausing his breakdown for a second to take a sip from his flask, then proceeding to carry on.

He stayed like this for a good few minutes, before you had decided to approach him. Your curiosity and questions where burning at the edge of your mind. You just had to investigate. Keeping a hand on your weapon tucked neatly in a pocket behind your back. You slowly walked towards him, not even being able to speak before he noticed you.

A gun had been pulled to you, aiming directly between your eyes

“What do you want? I’m not in the mood so just tell me in advance if I should shoot you or not..” his eyebrows furrowed, looking at the hand tucked behind your back.

You rolled your eyes, putting your hands up in surrender. Just how you remembered humans to be. Aggressive and impulsive.

“Calm down, I saw your ship crash. Thought you where in need of some assistance. And put that gun down, god…” to your surprise, he did. With a loud grunt he put his gun back into his pocket and turned away. Usually, he probably would’ve shot on site. And who’s to say he still won’t, but right in this moment he is too preoccupied to care.

“God doesn’t fucking exist…” he mumbled “and I definitely don’t need any assistance!”

You raised an eyebrow at him, watching him as he attempted to fix his broken ship. Opening the lid to the engine and being greeted by a storm of smoke. Now Seconds away from another breakdown.

“Are you… okay?” You hesitantly asked, daring to inch closer to him. Probably was the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. He threw the wrench down at the engine as he exploded.

“No, I’m not fucking okay. I lost my grandson, the entire galactic government is after me, I broke my portal gun and I just crashed my ship into a planet with no helpful resources to fix it.!” His speech sped up, and he went dead silent when he stopped talking. Clearly regretting telling you anything. He is usually good at keeping his mind together and keeping his problems to himself. But he had so much adrenaline pumping through his blood, he could barely concentrate.

“I’m, i’m sorry for your loss” is all you managed to get out

“What? Oh no, my grandsons not dead. I just left him somewhere and forgot exactly where…” he spoke slightly softer, still grunting as he tried to analyse his engine.

There was a small silence while you processed everything he had just said. Moving closer to get a look at his engine, you shook your head.

“You’ve burnt it out…”

“Yeah, no shit smart ass” he bit at you

You rolled your eyes and snatched the spanner from the place he had dropped it. Not using it to fix his engine, but you pulled out a small metal box from your pocket instead. Fixing a few pieces together. Rick stood there and watched with a puzzled look on his face. Moving his eyes from the gadget, then up to get a look at you.

His eyebrows softened as he took in your features, the creases in his forehead disappeared. A rush of a strange feeling replaced the adrenaline, not being able to pinpoint what it was but he didn’t like it. He could only describe it as his heart softening, and getting lost in a place that was familiar to him. Thats what he felt when he looked at your eyes, reflecting off of his.

“Hav-have we met before?” He said in a much calmer tone

You placed the gadget on the engine and pressed a small red button on the top, looking up at him.

“I don’t think so?” The box moved around the engine, like a shield. Fixing it effortlessly, Ricks eyes darted from you, to the engine, then back to you. Now with amazement written all over his face.

Deja vu was the only state good enough to describe what he was experiencing. You broke the silence by holding a hand out to introduce yourself.

“I’m y/n”

It took a quick second for him to respond, still trying to process your face and remember how he knows you.

“I’m… Rick” he finally shook your hand.

“Rick Sanchez..”

That name was oddly familiar to you. Like you’d heard it in a dream. Or it was a loved ones name in a past life. You felt like you had heard it before, in a very distant memory. But no recollection of the connection.

“That seems…familiar” you tilted your head, squinting your eyes at the old man who gave you the same look.

“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if you knew me. I am the smartest man In the universe”

[thefanbasewhore]

I loved your Javier preference can you do "You're not alone, I'm here." With Javier? 💞💞

Summary: based off the prompt list I reblogged. Javier is there for the new DEA agent after her first shoot out.

This is short, I'm getting ready to go to bed but wanted to fit a little something in. Enjoy! No use of Y/N.

Warning/content: Fluffy Javier, descriptions of shooting and killing. Reader is a young agent but her and Javi kind of have a thing.

Paring: Javier Peña/Female Reader

Colombia is beautiful, absolutely breath taking between the thick green forests, clear beaches and warm weather it's almost a dream. Family from the states would often stare how jealous they are of her, saying that one should be grateful for an opportunity like this.

But it was lonely.

Let's face it, being new anywhere sucks, the agents who have been here for years had their own clique, friends bonded by time and even blood which left her an unknowing outsider. While the other fellow DEA agents were grouping at a bar trying to forget the demons of the day she found herself alone every single night.

There's something about silence that makes chills creep up the devil's neck, the over thinking it entitles and she's has plenty of time personally witnessing how soul crushing it could be. After particularly rough days, seeing things that make her skin burn she would contemplate resigning, going home to face failure but at least have company again.

Two agents in particular are the only two who would bother talking to her. Agent Murphy and Agent Peña, desks only feet away from her own but she even thinks it's out of pure pity, they're nice men but work too much. Always busy, never around when the office dies and she's faced with the predicament of going home or staying longer at the office to avoid the insecure hours of silence that were bound to come.

"Agent." The words make her snap her head up away from the paper work scattered across the desk, peering into the dark swirls of brown, they match the curling hair at the base of his neck. "You ready to go?"

"Where?" The small dimples that pop through the patches of facial hair are enough to make anyone's knees weak, but luckily she's sitting, just admiring the beautiful man in front of her.

While she did believe it was only out of pity, she might have a teeny, tiny crush on him. How could she help it? Javier was hot headed, a fool with emotions, slept with a too many woman but was compassionate, smart, brave, handsome but most of all called her Hermosa.

She has no idea what it means, her spanish is shit but the way the words roll to perfectly from his tongue, the way his dimples peak smirking after they are muttered literally makes it hard to breath. Much like now, eyebrows raised in a teasing matter, a small chuckle falls from his perfect pout as he leans against the desk. "You didn't listen to a word I said did you?"

"I, um.." Hating the way her cheeks heat up she clears her throat, acting as if there's something stuck that causing the change of color in her face. "Was reading the report.."

"We need to head out to check a tip, meet you outside in ten hermosa." Theres thosd words again, she's completely speechless only nods a validation of understanding. She can't help as her eyes run down the back of his silhouette, a pink shirt stretches over his broad shoulders dipping into the curve of his slim waist then to his jeans that curve so perfectly over his -.

Shaking her head from the thoughts she stands, pulling her jacket over shoulders to joint Javier outside.

Javier is the perfect gentleman, opening the door to the car, asking if the air conditioning setting are okay not only once but twice not wanting her to be uncomfortable. Despite only knowing the man for a few months, and crushing embarrassingly hard, she felt more comfortable in this car then she did at her own home.

It's almost impossible to stop looking at him, one hand on the wheel, the other bringing a cigarette to his pout, lips wrapping around to take a large puff. His shirt is buttoned to the middle of his chest, even though it is scarce there are a few dark hairs that poke out from it, down his lean torso to his flattening thighs due to the pressure of the seat under him. He's looks so good, it's not right, he has to be at least ten or more years older but she wants nothing more than to lean against him, touch those lips with her own, run her fingers around the fatness of his bottom lip, feel his tongue poke out to suck on them.

"See something you like?" It's a tease, smirk that not only makes her cheek ignite but chest blush with pink patches. She's been caught, silent as her mouth drops to say something but Javier beats her to it. "I'm kidding, you should have seen your face."

"You're an asshole." The words are said with harsh tone, but with a smile and an eye roll that softens it up. "I was just actually wondering how many of those things you smoke a day, I heard they were bad for you."

The playful tone of earlier is gone, it's replaced by a lingering silence, a mix of anxiety and anticipation makes her stomach flip. The wall his cold against her skin but it helps hide her from the impending danger. Her breath is trembling, chest is expanding so fast she swears she can't breath.

It all happened so fast, Javier and her doing a sweep of the building then yelling, chaos erupting in the form of unforgiving bullets. Javier and her separated but him pushing her away from the danger only to face it head on himself.

One of them chasing and following her. While anyone would believe they would act heroic in the moment, run head first like Javi at the danger she couldn't, she ran up the stairs, hid in one of the bedrooms shooting the passerbys.

But now she realizes how much of a bad idea it was, trapping herself with the man only stands a few feet from her, a sickly smile matches his words as he points the gun at her. "There you are princess."

She's immobilized, pausing as eyes squeeze together expecting searing pain but the loud sound the echos the room has blood painting her face, body falling limp at her feet. Curled up in the most ridiculous position but eyes open wide with shock as Javier stands in front of her, gun still held high despite the dead man pooling blood on her legs, his own chest heaving with adrenaline.

She can't help it, the way the tears swell up, chin quivers no matter how much she tries to hide it. Javi's eyes never leave, only lower his gun, extending his hand for she can take it.

She reaches for it but the body the separates them makes her falter. "Hey -- look up, eyes on me. It's alright."

"I'm sorry. I ran away, I left you all alone." Word are breathlessly whispered with breaks, her lungs didn't want to work crushing her chest with deep sorrow. "I've never done this before."

Hands run over her face, feeling the blood smear across it, pulling her hand away to see the redness to meet the cause again before Javi is speaking again. "Eyes on me, take my hand."

The shift from the house to the car is blurry, between the tears and the blood it was nearly impossible to see anything, all she could think about was how slimy it felt against her pant leg, how the smell was almost metallically.

Javier had started the car, taking a drag of his cigarette and squeezing the bridge of his nose with the same hand. His eyes meet her again, noticing the blank stare directed at blood stained hands, Javi reaches over taking his jacket from the back seat to try and rub the blood away but it makes it worse, staining fingers a dark pink.

"I was the same way." Guessing it was her first time seeing a dead body but truthfully it doesn't get any easier, just starts to fade into normalcy. "Let's get you home hermosa."

"No --." The words are choked, loud as eye meet his with fear. Anything but the lingering silence home entitles, it would be a punishment not a relief. "Please, I don't want to go home. I am alone, I don't want to be alone."

Javi pauses to take in her words, eyebrows expressing confusion at the out burst. The way her chin quivers with uncertainty, tears push past eye lids if it wasn't for the situation he would tell her how beautiful she looks like this but instead slowly extends his hand to cup her cheek, moving closer to feel her warmth, thumb running over the highest point of her cheeks feeling them soak with a mixture of tears and blood. "You're not alone, I'm here sweet girl."

[mmand0]

gravel & wine.

Chapter Two: Fuego

Rating: 18+ 

TW: violence, alcohol

Notes: Chapter One: Colombia

Word Count: 2,000+

Notes: this fic is also on AO3 under nyraren

It has been two months since your arrival, and things are definitely not the same as the shit you went through back in California. There was a lot more blood. So many bodies... It made you sick every night. You didn't usually drink every day, but things change you suppose. The first few weeks wasn't so bad. More briefs, reading, tracking down files, et cetera. You spent every afternoon in the bathroom for about ten minutes to recharge in silence, then grabbed lunch with the boys. At night, you found yourself either by yourself driving around with the car the embassy assigned to you, or eating dinner with Javi. He was good company most nights. He was helping you with your Spanish and learning about Colombian culture while the two of you eat your dinner. Sometimes when you had a long day, you would order beer and took walks around the neighborhood with him. You always invited Murphy and his wife, but he usually declined. Part of you always hoped he would decline so you could be alone with Javi. He was easy on the eyes and he tends to flirt with you, but you liked to pretend to not notice. Besides, you had to be professional. Right?

Overall, Colombia and work were fine. There were a few heated arguments between the three of you, but it was always resolved. The boys were beginning to get used to you and your personality, and you got used to theirs. Routine was beginning to form in the office and after work hours. It was good; maybe even healthier compared to working with the DEA in California. On this particular afternoon, the three of you found yourselves sitting around, noses deep into files, the briefing room filled with smoke. You were sitting on the floor, legs crossed, a file in one hand while the other was rubbing the back of your neck. Murphy was standing in front of the board with his hands on his hips, and Javi sat on the table a cigarette between his lips. His eyes stared at the photographs and strings connecting the various cartel members to locations and events, but sometimes you could have sworn he stole glances at you.

Today's outfit of choice was a black blouse paired with dark jeans and brown boots. You put your hair into a messy twisted bun- your signature look when working. Perhaps it was out of boredom, or perhaps it was you testing whether Javi truly was looking at you, you decided to fuck with him a bit. So, with your fingers, you slowly dragged it all over your chest, pretending it was just a mindless act as you studied the files. Every time you did it, Javi would shift in his seat or clear his throat. Every now and then you would bite your thumb. Just fun and games, you'd think as you suppressed a smirk. Before you could do anything else, the phone rang. The three of you turned to the phone, hearts beating quickly. Murphy got to it first.

"Murphy. What?"

Pause.

"Where?"

Pause.

"We're on it."

Click.

"Let's go," he said, grabbing his gun from the table.

"What's going on?" you asked as you scrambled to get up.

"Poison was spotted."

You and Javi exchanged looks and followed Murphy. You grabbed your guns, bulletproof jackets, and sunglasses, then Javi began barking orders at groups of police officers. Here we go. The three of you hurried to Javi's car- Murphy got shotgun and you in the back. The adrenaline surged in your body as your team headed to the location. This was the kind of shit that made you stay in the profession. That and... well, that's a story you hate to think about. Javi drove as quickly as he could, careful not to go too fast. He parked a block away from the building. It looked like a brothel. Through a window, you spotted Poison walking across the room talking to someone.

"There!" you whispered, leaning in your seat. The boys nodded.

"You ready, California?" Murphy asked.

"I have to be."

"Good."

Javi radioed the officers and gave specific instructions. The rush of the adrenaline gave you a high better than the buzz of any cigarette. Police officers surrounded the area- there was no way these guys could escape. The three of you made your way to the front of the building, motioning the women to stay quiet. Murphy led the way while you and Javi followed. You were nearly on the same floor as Escobar's men when one of his men came out of one of the rooms. Bullets began to fly, and the sounds of screaming echoed through the building.

"GO!" Javi yelled as you and a few officers ran after the suspects. You could hear Poison and at least two others running for the roof. "THEY'RE HEADING UP! COVER ME!" you yell as you shot at the first man you ran into. Missed. The three of you and two other officers hurried to the rooftop. More bullets flew past your team. Nearly there. Murphy was faster than you, and by the time you were at the top, he was already chasing Poison. You paused to find where the other two suspects were, but before you could even move, you felt Javi pull you against him as a bullet flew by your head.

"Keep your head in the fucking game, Y/N. Go!"

You nodded and began running after the one who shot you. You never actually killed anyone... At least not on purpose. There has only been one incident where you managed to kill someone, but the guy didn't die from the bullet. He survived and was taken to the hospital, but died from blood loss. It didn't count. As you, Javi, and Murphy chased the men on the rooftops, you couldn't help but think of the worst. Be smart. Tire him out, you thought as you ran. The man kept shooting, but missed every time. He led you through a building, pushing obstacles in your way. As quickly as you could, you maneuvered your way around it and followed him to the street. He was getting tired. There it was: your moment. The man stopped for a good few seconds, and that was enough for you to aim your gun.

"STOP! FREEZE!" you yelled. He turned, gun pointed at you. "DROP YOUR FUCKING WEAPON!"

"VETE A LA MIERDA PERRA!" He tried to shoot at you, but you were able to duck behind a brick wall in time. Then you heard the best sound you could imagine: click, click, click. He was out and this was it. You leaned enough to shoot the man. It was a blur. You saw him fall back as the bullet penetrated his head. Three police officers approached the body, guns at the ready while you took a moment to breathe. Were you even breathing this whole time? You could feel the acid climbing up your throat. The look the man had on his face burned in your mind. He wasn't afraid... He was ready. It was survival of the fittest here, and death was a better road to take than being captured.

Around the corner, you could hear Javi calling for you. It felt as though the world began to spin as you hunched over to vomit. Beads of cold sweat ran down your forehead as you emptied your stomach. The chunks of human flesh and brain etched in your memories forever. You murdered someone. There was no going back. Javi came to your side, strong hands grabbing your shoulders.

"Get your shit together, Y/N. Come on," he said, forcing you to stand.

"Where's Murphy?"

"Back at the front. Poison got away."

"What about the other guy?"

"Gone."

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, and stood to face Javi. You were pale and the look of shock frozen in your eyes. He softened his expression and stared at you for a few seconds. "You did good, California. You did good."

The ride back to the office was extremely quiet. You could feel Javi and Murphy's frustration with Poison's escape, but there was no one to blame. They were all snakes and eels. They had eyes and men everywhere. Night had fallen by the time the three of you finished the reports needed for today's events. Murphy was quiet the whole evening, silently tapping on the typewriter. Javi kept a close eye on you, offering you a cigarette from time to time which you gladly took every single time. You were still pale from shock, but you managed to get through the paperwork. Murphy finished his report, bid farewell, and headed out the door before anyone could say goodbye. You had finished yours earlier, but you hadn't moved from the desk. You couldn't stop thinking about what you had done.

"Come on," Javi said, putting his leather jacket on.

"What?"

"Just come on," he said, offering his hand to you.

"Where-"

"No questions. Come on."

You grabbed your gun and took his hand. He noticed how cold and clammy you were and gave you a gentle squeeze. He let go as soon as you stood and led you to his car. "Leave your car here. Let's take mine." In the car, you began chewing on your thumbnail, eyes glazed.

"First time?"

"What?"

"First time killing someone?"

You nodded and sighed heavily. "I don't know what I was expecting... I didn't think I would be that weak."

Javi shook his head. "You're not. I promise you, you're not."

"Does it get easier?"

"No."

"Where are we going?"

"The store. Stay in the car."

Javi turned a corner and parked in front of a liquor store. You didn't notice how long he was gone, but by the time he returned he had a bag filled with two different bottles of alcohol, a couple packs of cigarettes, and some kind of snack. Good idea, Javi. Drink my sorrows away. Javi parked the car across the street from the apartment and turned to you. "You don't have to come inside if you don't want to, but I think you shouldn't be alone tonight."

He was right. You were in no condition to be by yourself, and you needed company more than ever. Javi exited the car with the goods in hand, and motioned for you to follow him to his apartment. His home was simple. Not much decorations- very much a bachelor's pad. You took your shoes off and placed it by the door, and headed straight to the sofa. You wondered how many women went through those doors before untying your hair. Javi was in the kitchen looking for glasses and his ashtray.

"Gin or whiskey?" The only liquor that you really drank.

"You remembered."

"Of course I did."

"Gin. With lime if you have it."

Javi returned with a glass of gin for you and whiskey for him. He sat on the other sofa and opened the new pack of cigarettes. "Talk to me, California. How are you holding up?"

You sipped the gin, wincing slightly. "I don't know. I'm just in shock. It was... It was nothing I imagined."

"Of course not. Do you regret it?"

"No."

You reached for the pack of cigarettes, and Javi leaned to light it for you. You inhaled deeply and lifted your head towards the ceiling before letting the smoke curl out of your lips. "This shit is harder than I thought, Javi." You closed your eyes as you sucked on the cigarette again. "These guys... They're not scared of death." You sat up and ran a hand through your hair. "What the fuck am I doing here? I vomited. I was weak-"

"Stop. You get used to it, Y/N. It won't ever get easier, but you'll get used to it."

You moved towards the end of the sofa, closer to Javi. "What's your secret?" You asked, drinking more of the gin. Javi leaned towards you, noses nearly touching. The smell of whiskey and cigarette escaped his lips. Maybe it was liquid courage, but before he could answer, your lips were on his. Careful not to burn anything, you did your best to put your cigarette out. You felt his hands find its way to the back of your neck, gripping it tightly. He could probably feel your pulse quickening as his tongue traced your lips. A moan hummed in your chest as his tongue entered yours.

Fuck.

[frstbiitten]

cw: violence, gore, blood, death

The bathroom was a little further away than expected, she doubted anyone would notice the bloody wound on her back, too bad her black shirt would have a slit in it, she didn't want to get rid of it, at least not now. Feeling the bodies sticking against hers only made her sick to her stomach, it was an overwhelming and invasive feeling at the same time. 

She reached the bathroom almost stumbling on her way, the light was white at least, no outlandish colors for now. It was also almost inundated in silence, beyond the music coming from the dance floor, it was a relief to get out of that shapeless mass of humans. There was no one at least insight, all the toilets clean and free of any interference - that is, anyone else-. She opened one of the empty cubicles, almost all of them were empty except for just one, she pulled out enough paper to wet the pieces slightly and clean the wound, it was a very deep one, just noticing its presence caused her even more physical pain, although it was clear that it was healing normally as expected of her. After a few days, only a somewhat lumpy mark would remain.

A girl, no taller than Frost, came out of one of the cubicles, it was to be expected that there might be someone else without her knowing, she was wearing a short tight black dress with loose dark hair, perhaps the whole outfit plus heavy makeup was more expensive than Frost could imagine. Though she didn't leave after washing her hands, she observed Frost for a moment, looking at the papers wet in water and blood at the same time, she was heading for the door until she took a closer look at the wound on her back.

"Do you need help, do you want me to call an ambulance?" Her voice was somewhat soft, from the way she looked Frost could tell easily that she drank a little, but still had a low level of alcohol in her blood.

"No thanks, I'll be fine in a few hours." Frost turned around to get a better look at her, at least a stranger cared about her wellbeing, maybe this little world wasn't full of selfish people.

"Are you sure? Maybe that could get worse."

She heard only a hiss and one of the heels hit the ground very close to her, her movement had been quick but Frost had reacted sooner. She had the girl's right wrist gripped firmly by his icy hand, the knife she carried being just a few inches away from reaching her stomach. A reaction the girl never expected, she would have preferred to catch her more off guard, but Frost's senses had been on alert since Kit had assaulted her.

"I can't let you go alive." The stranger was mumbling, attacking her with her fist from her other hand, it wasn't very efficient as Frost caught her instantly.

"I have to say the same thing, but I'm more stubborn."

The girl's hand holding the knife began to rapidly cool to the point where her fingers were being stuck against each other from the cold, before she began to scream, Frost used the girl's frozen hand and inserted the tip of the knife straight into the jugular. Frost shoved the body into the cubicle behind the girl, some of the blood had run down her face as she threw the body onto the toilet. It wasn't a pleasant sight, as much as she was used to exposed bones and split open heads at this point, a corpse was always unpleasant to look at. "How fucking disgusting, eww!" And she closed the cubicle, sure someone else would find it.

Frost didn't leave the bathroom until she could wash her face from the blood of the last attack, would this night keep this level of violence? She needed to leave. Kit had mentioned that this could happen, if that girl knew about her, then more people there would be looking for her with non-peaceful goals in mind. She had to find Violet before leaving, or maybe get the hell out of here with her. Still had to get through the mass of dancing people, it was a claustrophobic experience when panic mixes with the music and the lack of air. Was anyone else looking for her? From the shadows someone was watching her, watching her face being illuminated for a few seconds thanks to the spotlights.

Found Violet and Kit, both having a drink at the bar as if nothing else had happened before, it seemed that Violet forgave her very quickly. Kit first noticed Frost's presence approaching, she didn't appear too pleased to see her again.

"Hey Frost, don't you want me to call an ambulance?" Kit took a sip of her drink, striking a relaxed pose, elbows, and back leaning against the bar, it gave her a better view of the dance floor.

"What?"

"She deserves an apology from you, too." Violet returned Violet's comment, though she was turning her back to Frost from her seat, turning around almost immediately, something didn't add up in the young woman's expression, especially in her eyes. "Hey Frost... Do you need anything?"

"I have to go."

"So soon? Didn't you want to enjoy the evening first?" Kit seemed to know more than she appeared to, as if she had already foreseen the recent attack in the bathroom. "Or are you afraid of being in the eye of the storm?"

"... What?"

Could barely hear the rest of the world accurately after Kit said that, it was as if everything had quietened down for a few moments. But she could feel herself being watched, uncomfortably watched by more than a single person. Felt the weight of a hand on the back of her neck, it was a grip that sought nothing more than control over her, and suddenly it was her hair being forcibly pulled back. Frost didn't have much time to react and couldn't avoid the blow on the back of her knees, someone was forcing her to slow down and obey under every strike on her body until she ended up on all four of her limbs. Someone was belittling her power.

Frost took advantage of her enemy's position and used her left leg to create a circular motion and throw him to the ground. She had lost sight of Violet and Kit, this guy was her priority and it was an almost minuscule moment that it took her to kill the big guy, plunging the knife she had taken from Kit earlier to insert it into her attacker's chest.

The screams and chaos after the first attack were to be expected. It was all very sudden, had a gun in front of her face and her first instinct was to freeze it before the attacker could pull the trigger, that trick seemed to always work. She ascended from the ground with a blow from her fist directly towards the lower part of the man's jaw -he wasn't as big as the previous one but he did pass her in height-, she couldn't land a second blow, as another man had grabbed her waist from behind and pushed her to the bar, almost crashing into the chairs.

She was confused, but it was obvious that trusting Kit was no longer viable. Felt a hand trying to help her to get up, it was Violet, she hadn't left there like the rest of the other people were doing, like the ones that were left only wanted to watch the fight, or they were the ones coming for Frost.

"Get up... Get up Frost, you have to go, there's like 15 guys here wanting to kill you." Violet let Frost's arm rest on her shoulders, where was Kit? Well right next to them, she didn't know what look to give her back at Frost, but she didn't seem to have any intentions of helping her.

"No... I can't leave.... They're going to follow me anywhere, or they could hurt you if they wanted to." She had mentioned 15 men in total? 17 if you counted the girl in the bathroom and the dead guy on the floor. The DJ wasn't about to leave his place either, as he had changed the music to a much louder one, it helped set the mood, beyond how surreal it was, also some artificial smoke flooded the dance floor, was it to hurt her or benefit her?

She still had the knife in her hand, needed to be smart when using it, maybe they would come one at a time, she doubted they would want to kill her between them all. Took a few steps forward once she was able to compose herself, was already in plain sight amidst a fog and dancing lights.

"Did you guys come for me? Because you're only wasting my time."

Frost didn't have to wait too long to get a reaction from these men, clearly, they were determined to die for a sum of money, she was ignorant of what it would be and who might have put a bounty on her head. It wasn't easy, as some were armed or more experienced, they managed to hit her with their fists or some short weapon, although she also knew how to defend herself. It was also clear that the most desperate ones went for her first, it was easy to unbalance them with kicks, punches, and cuts. She felt the adrenaline rise and fill her skull, as well as her skin became colder and colder, the feeling of vertigo and of letting herself be carried away by anger.

But she didn't make it in time, instead, one of the men took it upon himself to lift her off the ground with her body over his shoulder, as much as she could stab his back - there was something underneath that could be a kevlar vest, which prevented her from reaching his muscles-. The man dropped Frost onto the drink bar, there were glasses and bottles, these became shattered glasses and alcohol scattered all the way to the floor, again the young woman's back was suffering the consequences. Being short was a disadvantage, as the man surpassed her in height by many inches, had leather gloves so he could withstand the cold, and grabbed Frost by her clothes to lift her and turn her around. Like a magic trick, he used the alcohol from the drinks as fuel and with a lighter turned the bar into a new method of torture, finally, he grabbed Frost's hair to slam her face into the surface of the bar, now on fire and with shattering glass.

It was her fury that stopped the man's strength, her hands rested on the edge of the surface in time to push her torso upward, between grunts and struggles, her eyes took on a whitish hue and the glow in them appeared. The fire didn't last long, a layer of ice began to spread from her fingers, extinguishing the fire instantly, she used her foot to deliver a kick in the direction of his knee and knock him off balance, knocking him to the ground but she didn't pay attention to him again, 8 more guys were waiting for their turn.

She grabbed the knife from the ground and wrapped it in ice, turning it into an even more lethal weapon than before. Frost slashed one of them in the stomach fatally enough to leave his guts all over the floor and start screaming, another was pierced through the eye and getting finished with a chunk of ice in the eyesocket as it cooled his skull, and so they kept falling one by one.

"This is... ew..." Violet was both shocked and disgusted, shocked by the scene in front of her eyes and disgusted by the blood spilled and the guts, too many for just one night.

"You should leave, it could get worse." Kit lightly pushed Violet in the direction of the door they had previously entered through, the last thing she wanted was to be involved in the situation, let alone afterward, she was planning on finishing her task however she could. "Besides, look at her, this only proves my point: Frost isn't like you, me or anyone else, sooner or later she could hurt someone innocent, she's not human either, have you ever seen a human do that?" Kit pointed at Frost who seemed to be winning the fight, her eyes perfectly reflected the anger that was driving her to keep fighting, using the ice that gushed from her hands to incapacitate and kill, the scene was getting harder to watch with every blow. "And if she doesn't at least kill us, those around her could die, you saw what happened to Jasper... it's not safe to be around her."

 Violet preferred not to connect one event to another, Jasper's death was a mistake at the end of the day, and could do nothing to stop such, Jasper never saw Frost as someone who would hurt those who tried to help her. Jasper would say that Frost seemed more like someone who had lost her way than someone who could be violent for no apparent reason. To this day, Violet didn't know if it was beneficial to help her, nor how to help her. They didn't hear the man who had fought Frost against the bar getting back on his feet, overheard the previous conversation and had no intention of sharing the money, Kit included. With a surprisingly skillful move, he grabbed Kit from behind, wrapping his arm around her neck, making a headlock to leave her immobilized. 

"Shit shit shit!" Violet tried to help Kit free herself from the man, only to be pushed away by Kit herself, not wanting to put her in danger, somehow managing to articulate the word 'go away' as she struggled to stop the man from choking her.

From a distance, Frost had noticed that the big guy hadn't fainted as she had assumed, before killing the last man, she performed a quick maneuver, never done it before from such a distance. From her fingertips, ice crystals detached like razor blades, threw them intending to kill the man who was trying to choke Kit. Frost heard the ice shards embedding into the skin and reaching up to the skull and neck, and with a final blow, she shattered the eye of the last opponent, letting him fall to the ground along with the others.

The adrenaline rush had worn off once she managed to relax, the knife slipped from her hand and fell to the ground, again staining the blade with blood as the ice melted. She was exhausted after such a fight,  never fought so many people at the same time on the same day. Gasped as she tried to relax her muscles, trying to get back to her normal self. 

She started to hear a cry from behind her, Frost turned around to get a better look at what had happened. Violet was on the floor, sitting on her knees and legs, in her lap she had half of Kit's body on her, it looked like she was trying to take something from her. As she got closer she could see in detail what had happened. It was a fatal aiming error on her part, yes she had managed to kill the man who had assaulted them both, but Kit was also affected. 3 of the 5 crystals she had thrown had impacted her body too, one of her eyes was gone and there was nothing but a piece of ice emerging from the eye socket, another embedded in her forehead, and the third -or first- in her throat. The blood wasn't gushing evenly, it was clotting and freezing right away, the face alone was becoming misshapen and taking on a bluish hue. 

"I... I'm so sorry Violet..." Her hands were stained with blood, she wished she could reach out to touch her shoulder or take her away, she didn't know which way to act.

"Go away." 

"What?"

"Please leave." It was the first time she had ever heard Violet speak that sternly, her eyes full of tears, her voice cracking and even sounding like she was going to attack her at any moment. "...they're coming for you.... you have to go..."

"I'm sorry..."

"PLEASE GO AWAY!"

Didn't have to think about it much, Violet no longer saw her as before, for Frost, she wouldn't know how to solve it in the future, she had to follow her advice to get out of there before the police arrived on the scene. Decided to take the way she had entered, then do her best to get lost in alleys and areas where she could hide for a few hours. Heard the sirens like a clap of thunder, a sound that chased her as she hid, how long was that fight? This was never in her plans, for she doubted she would ever make it home this time.

Finally hidden in the bushes of a building, there was a bridge several yards away, she could hide there too until the time she deemed safe. She heard a rustling behind her, as she turned in the direction of the sound, there was only a shadow standing, someone, but it was a familiar and unfamiliar feeling at the same time.

"Please... leave me alone." She would be cordial for now, but she wouldn't hesitate to use her force again.

Frost heard an almost imperceptible sound, like a tv being unplugged, a power failure, but it wasn't caused by an electric current or any artifact. It was out of nowhere, she felt a prick in her neck, her hand instinctively wanted to remove whatever was pricking her skin. Managed to remove a dart from her neck or so she thought, as she had never seen one, as it looked more like a yellow stain on her hand. Everything became a big dark blob as her body tried to find a way to react, her eyes paled just like her skin as she tried to stand up. The dart fell to the warm grass, looked for a way to support herself using her hands, looked at where the shadow was supposed to be, nothing but a patch darker than the night. Finally, her body decided to give up and Frost fell to the ground.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Seventy-Nine

Words: 4.1k

Warning(s): explicit language, violence, explicit sexual situations, substance abuse, mentions of assault

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I hum along to the Christmas music softly playing over the speakers of the grocery store as I walk down the aisles, pushing my buggy, looking at the different types of cereal. 

Nikki doesn't like sweet cereals aside from Captain Crunch, so I just grab a box of it before heading to grab toilet paper and paper towels, along with some eggs, and head to the checkout line, my attention stalling on a tabloid on display. 

"Nikki Sixx & Vanity: Their 'Friendship' Timeline," it reads, a picture of Vanity and Nikki plastered on the front...I exhale sharply.

I can't believe it's been four months since Vanity aired out their dirty laundry on TV. 

That means Duff and I have been together for three and a half months...

I'm quickly backing up and walking to the sexual health section, examining the many brands of pregnancy tests. 

I grab the cheapest and go back to the line. 

"I told them not to put those out," my cashier states to me when it's my turn, as she sees me give another glance to the magazine with my husband and his mistress on the front.

When she gets to the pregnancy test, she clears her throat. 

"Celebratory or...?" She asks, swiping the test. 

I pretend I don't hear her. 

I shut my trunk, my arms wrapped around grocery bags as I step to the front door, of the house, the sun setting through the neighborhood, and I sigh heavily as I grab my key. 

I haven't been home in a couple days, avoiding Nikki as much as I can, but I know we need groceries in the house and I know he hasn't left to get any, and even though I'm done with him, I don't want him to starve or something. 

Opening the front door, the house is a wreck just from a glance, and I quietly shut the door in case he's asleep, and head to the kitchen.

I quickly stop in my tracks when I see through the dim light, coming from the single lamp in the foyer, figures moving in the living room, a light littering of giggles flittering through the air…

I turn the lights on, nearly dropping the groceries to see eight girls in lingerie, girls at least in their late teens, piled on Nikki—and Steven—lips swollen from making out with each other and euphoric glows casting over all of them. 

I'm at a loss for words. 

Nikki and Steven just look at me, Steven looking like a guilty kid. 

"Is that your wife?" One of the girls straddling Nikki asks, looking at me, wide eyed. 

"Ex-wife." I correct her. 

This is where the story tends to get misconstrued. If you ask Nikki or Steven what happened, they'll tell you it went down like this…

"Vivian put the fuckin' gun down!" Nikki yells at me as I hold his shotgun, the girls screaming and scattering like roaches while he and Steven run to the backyard as I pump a bullet into the chamber and fire off, missing them by a couple inches as our wall by the back door is blown to hell, chasing after them and emptying the gun in our backyard whilst trying to shoot them. 

What actually happened…

"Get out of my house." I tell the girls harshly and they look at me, pissy. 

"If I want them here, they can be here." Nikki argues. 

"They're babies, Nikki!" I shout, and the girls all defensively simultaneously let out their ages, ranging between 18 to 20, but I honestly don't see how some of them are over 17. "Then let me see your ID." I tell them. 

"We came to hook up, we didn't come to get interrogated." One of them states. 

"Okay, well, you've had your fifteen minutes with Nikki Sixx so you can get out of my house." I repeat.

"Fuck off!" She exclaims to me and I raise my brows. 

Fuck it. 

I go to our bedroom and grab what I need, and I don't give anybody a warning before firing off shotgun shrapnel into our glass ceiling, shards of mirror raining down as I hear the girls holler and cry out in fear, scampering to the door in their heels, and once the gun is unloaded, I look in the living room and see fluffy black and blonde hair peek up from behind the couch, their eyes bugging, pupils taking up most of their eye.

When the cops showed up, I said I accidentally fired into the ceiling while trying to clean the gun. They were fans of Nikki so they didn't give us a fine for public disturbance, and they didn't ask why eight girls were in our lawn in lingerie, either.

"I cannot believe you." I grit through my teeth when Steven blocks my entrance into their rehearsal studio, his heavy panting clouding the words trying to come from his mouth. "Did you run here?!" I exclaim and he nods, still trying to catch his breath, still trying to get his apology out that I can't even hear because he's talking but not saying a word due to his breathing. "Moron." I hiss, shoving him out of my way to get inside. 

"Viv, wait!" He musters out, following me. 

"Fuck you!" I shout. 

"Vivian, please, let me—" he gasps for breath some more. 

"—I hope you're having an asthma attack or something, I really do, dumbass, I really do." I march away from him and he grabs my wrist, a pathetic look on his face. 

"Look—"

"—No, you 'look,' I refuse to be the little bitch that just lays on her back and let's everybody fuck her to hell with their bullshit. It's gross and it's disgusting and you should be ashamed of yourself for even being apart of it, Steven, because I thought you wouldn't do that shit to me. Just 'haha it's so hot to do stupid shit that'll hurt Vivian,'" I mock his voice, and he tries to talk again, "No, just shut up and go suck on Nikki's balls some more because I don't think those teenage girls did it enough!" I turn on my heel go to find the guys. 

"You're not mad about their age, you're mad Nikki didn't give a fuck." He gets out, taking deep breaths and I stop and turn to look at him, rolling my jaw. "You're jealous, and you know you are, and it's okay and normal to be, Viv, I know you still—"

"—Know I still what, Steven? Hmm? Love him?" I furrow my brows, stepping to him, my heels clicking on the floor when I get face to face to him, our nose nearly touching, my voice shaking with anger as I say, "He could die tomorrow and I wouldn't give a single fuck because he's been dead to me for months. And as of right now, you are to. So don't come at with me trying to strike up some empathy for a person I feel absolutely apathetic about." I sneer quietly, turning. "And stay away from teenagers. I don't care if they're eighteen or nineteen, they're still fucking kids."

I grind my teeth together as I leave him standing in the hallway before I try to go into the girls bathroom, only for it to be locked. 

"Damn it." I mumble, holding back tears, glancing at the door of the boys bathroom. 

Without shit given, I open the door and walk in, seeing Izzy standing over the toilet, cigarette in his mouth, peeing. 

He glances over his shoulder and looks at me. 

"Viv." He says the best he can, smoke puffing past his lips. 

"Izzy." I reply, sitting my purse on the sink, digging through it. "Sorry, the girls bathroom was taken." I mumble. 

"No problem." He replies. "Not like you haven't seen it before." He adds and I roll my eyes. 

"Unfortunately." I sigh out, grabbing the box with the pregnancy test in it. "Hurry up, please." 

He looks at me to say something smart back, but looks at the box and his face falls. 

"Jesus fuck, Viv, what do you have that for?" He asks me. 

"Okay, I know you went to high school in Indiana and their version of Sex Education was just ways to stick your dick in a pickup truck's tail pipe without getting carbon monoxide poisoning, but when a man and woman have sex, they have a risk of procreation." I tell him. 

"With Duff? " He asks me with a confused face. 

"No, I got Bret Michaels and Willie Nelson to cum in a cup and I mixed it together and went from there." I sarcastically hiss.

"Fuck you, smart ass, I was asking a legitimate question." He zips his pants back up and steps aside for me. 

"Yes, with Duff. I haven't had sex with Nikki in months." I tell him. 

"Sorry, I didn't know if you were doing them both or what." He shrugs and I glare at him. 

"No. I'm not." I inform him, pulling my dress up and my panties down. 

"Okay, that's my cue." He says, turning away from me, in reference to my naked bottom half. 

"Not like you haven't seen it before." I repeat what he said earlier and he chuckles, going to open the door. "You're leaving?" I ask him, quickly, and he looks at me.

"Yeah?"

"I need support." I tell him, honestly sounding scared and he leans his head back and rubs his eyes. 

"Vivian, babe, I can just go get Duff—"

"—No, no, he doesn't need to know I even think I'm pregnant." I state, panicked. "Look, it'll take a few minutes but I can't wait for the result by myself, it'll drive me up the wall." I plead with him. 

"Well, what if you are pregnant, are you gonna tell him, then?" 

"I-I don't know." I admit. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there just, please, stay in here with me."

He lets out a heavy breath before nodding, rubbing his forehead. 

"Alright, alright. Just piss on the stick because I'm missing rehearsal for this." 

It was an agonizing wait, but once Izzy glanced at his watch and said, "alright, it's been long enough," I felt like it had only been a few seconds. 

"Maybe we should a wait a little bit more." I suggest.

"Viv, it's been ten minutes. You already put it off once before, come on, now. Cowgirl up." He tells me. 

"Okay." I breathe out, anxious, rubbing my lips together and shakily reaching for the test before quickly snatching away. "I can't do it." I say to him, shaking my head. "You look at it and tell me." 

"Vivian—"

"—Please?" I beg, giving him my best puppy dog eyes and he lets out a breath and reaches for the test, looking at it, nodding a little. 

"Well, Stripey, we're at the bridge, how're you gonna cross it?" He asks me, handing me the test, and I see a perfectly shaped "+" on it. 

I started to panic, and think irrationally, as I do when I'm backed into a corner. So in my panicked state, the best thing I saw for me to do, was...

"You are fucking insane." He tells me sharply, leaning against the sink. "Like evil insane." 

"Izzy, I don't know what else to do aside from just get rid of it or hope and pray I miscarry, and that's kinda fucked." I explain, holding back tears. 

"You want to fuck Nikki and just play it off as his—that's more fucked up than praying the damn thing away!" He whipser yells. "And what about Duff? What the hell happens to him when you pull that shit?" 

"I don't know, Izzy, alright? But he doesn't need a kid to worry about when he's just starting to get a taste of what he's wanted for years, now, and I don't want to—"

"—He's going to be fucked up with the idea of you still screwing Nikki when he's under the impression that you two are gonna be this magical little fairytale of unicorns and sparkles and love and shit, Vivian!" 

"I know, but I don't know what else to do!" I reply in the same tone. 

"Oh, my God." Izzy exhales smoke from his fresh cigarette. "You can't tell me this shit. You shouldn't have even let me know about this because now I'm a fucking accomplice to your batshit crazy scheme." He scolds me. 

"Izzy—"

"—You are the fucking devil, Vivian. Axl was right. You are the actual devil." 

"Well, you tell me what to do, Izzy, because that's the only thing I can come up with!" 

"Why does it matter if the child is Nikki's or not, you two are getting divorced anyway, so why does it matter if it's somebody else's?" He questions, and I stay quiet. "You are filing for divorce, right?" 

More silence. 

"Oh. My. God."

"Izz—"

"—Will you quit incriminating me with you when you do stupid shit?!" He lets out, slightly panicking. "Now im gonna be fucked sideways if they find out I knew and never said anythi--why the fuck were you even screwing Duff if you weren't a thousand percent sure you were gonna leave Nikki?!" 

"Because I thought I was but no—"

"—Izz, you alright?!" 

"Duff." Izzy  mouths to me. "Shhhit." 

"Answer him." I mouth back. 

"Yeah, man, I'm good...just really, um, fucked on that pizza from earlier!" He lies as I shove the pregnancy test box back in my purse along with the test, and zip it up. 

"Okay, dude, just making sure!" Duff replies, the sound of him walking away letting us know the coast is clear. 

Just to make sure Izzy sticks his head out of the door, and glances at me. 

"Go," he motions and I do. "Last door on the left of that hall." He adds and I go in that direction, opening the door and seeing Axl, Duff, Slash and even Steven has joined them. 

"Hey," Duff's face lights up when he sees me, and be puts his bass down as I walk to him. 

He wraps an arm around my waist and leans in, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips. 

"Hi," I smile when he pulls away, looking into his eyes, while I can see Izzy staring at me from the corner of my eye, taking a drink from his cup with this look on his face like I've just killed his best friend. 

I honestly might if I'm not careful. 

Once their rehearsal is over, it's around 5:00pm, and my stomach is killing me. 

"Can we get food?" I ask him, my hand in his as we step to the parkinglot. 

"No, I'm just gonna let you starve." He sarcastically lets out and I cut my eyes up at him. "Where do you wanna eat?" He asks next, letting my hand go so he can grab his pack of Marlboros and settle one between his lips, lighting it, before grabbing my hand again. 

"I don't know." I shrug. 

"I thought you said you're hungry." He says next. 

"I am—that doesn't mean I know what I want to eat." I add and he just looks at me. 

"Do you want a burger?" He suggests and I wrinkle my nose. "Okay...chicken?" Again, I don't look pleased. "Dennys?"

"That's fine with me." I nod. 

"Thank God." He sighs. "My car or yours?" He asks next. 

"Doesn't matter." I tell him. 

"Alright, we'll take mine." He says, stepping to the passenger side, opening the door for me without a second thought. 

"Aww," Slash says as he comes out of the building, teasing Duff from behind his shades and his own cigarette. 

Duff just smiles and flips him off, walking to the driver's side. 

"I'll see you later tonight, man!" Slash calls. 

"Alright!" Duff says back, shutting the door, fumbling for his keys to put them into the ignition. 

"You guys are going out tonight?" I ask him as he cranks the car. 

"Yeah, you can come." He offers and I shake my head a little. 

"Um, I was actually gonna go visit with Sharise and Skylar for a few hours, tonight." I tell him. 

(Pt. 79 CONT.)

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

“SHOULD I TRY”

Gilly Lopez x Reader

Serie Index. Chapter 3.

Word count: 2.7k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @starrynite7114 💘

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. English isn’t my first language, I’m sorry if I have some mistakes with grammar. The gif isn't mine.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @mara-mpou @dazzledamazon @sammskellington @arvedua 💥 (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

You're nervous.

Gilly is holding your hand, carrying a cardboard bag in the other. You're about to sweat with every step you walk through the alley, on your way to the clubhouse. You look at him, biting your inner lip when you stopped walking. He turns at you with a raised eyebrow. Looking down for a second, you sigh.

“What's up?”

“What if I don't fit in?”

You have your own demons, a past that you wanna hide but sooner or later it will come out. It's not only about what they expected of you, or if you're good enough. It's about your shadow and what it has to say about you.

“Baby, they already love you. You don't have anything to worry about.”

“They're your family.”

“Are you more concerned about them being my family than about what they do?” Gilly laughs loud, you frown upset releasing his hand. “Cariño, come here”.

He pushes you next to his body, holding your waist between his hands. Rising up on your tiptoes and your fingers tangled in his shirt, you kiss him softly. He knows how to calm you down, with that peace only he can transmit to you.

“Shit, I ruin your lipstick”.

“Are you fuckin' serious?” You shout taking the phone of your pocket to see your reflection on the screen.

“Of course not. You're using that one I hate, 'cause it doesn't leave any mark”. He's laughing and you know you can't be upset with him, when he has that kind of smile on his face. He makes you melt every time he laughs so naturally. “Everything is gonna be ok, baby.”

You're not sure about that, but his kiss on your temple relaxed you. With an arm on your shoulders, you two finally arrive to the front yard. It's been three months since you were there last, but seems that everything is the same. You can see Angel taking care of the barbecue near the ring, with a big table full of different types of meat. Some of the guys are sitting around the bonfire accompanied by girls you supposed are from Vicky's place. Gilly told you about them. Good girls, bad life. They're drinking, smoking, laughing, focused on a conversation which is finished when they see you.

“Pretty girl is here!” Coco shouts getting up, walking next to you. “What's up, soldier?”

“Hey”. You say a little bit shy.

“What's that, ah?” He takes the bag in your hand, looking inside.

“Oh, ahm… Gilly told me… Bishop? Is that?” You ask to him, trying to remember all the names. He nods with a soft smile. “Yeah, Gilly told me that Bishop likes to dip the meat. And I made a sauce my mom showed me”.

“Well, lets see what he have to say about it”.

“No, no, wait!” Before you can say anything else, Coco already given him the sauce. Bishop looks at you with a serious gesture on his face. “Shit”. You sigh rubbing your nose.

“He will like it”. Gilly tries to calm you down, while the president walks towards Angel to asks him for a piece of meat.

With the plastic pot on the table, he dips it before eat it. He seems thoughtful, tasting every ingredient of the sauce. Then, you can see how he makes a gesture with the right hand calling someone. An older man walks next to him, while the president dips another piece to offer it to him. He eats it without asking. Gilly is trying to contain his laughs, 'cause he knows what they're doing. You're trembling as fuck.

“Gilly, they're coming”. You mutter at him without turning, with your whole body tensed.

You're about to hide behind your boyfriend when both men stand up in front of you, but you can't move a single inch.

“You made it?” The unknown man is the first one to talk. You nod remarkably nervous. Your hands are sweating.

“My mom… was living in Spain… The sauce is from there”.

“Garlic and oil?” Bishop asks.

“Lemon and salt. It's similar to mayonnaise”. After some seconds in silence, Gilly is who answers.

“Relax, pretty girl. It's fucking awesome, thanks for making it”. Bishop starts to laugh, as Taza does. “Welcome to the clubhouse. You wanna beer?”

“Yes… Sure…”

━━━━━━ ﹅ ━━━━━━

Thirty minutes later you almost feel like you're at home, it has its good things and its bad things. But you like it. You have a burger between your fingers, having a bite of it, while you're listening to funny stories about Gilly that Coco and Creeper are telling. He's ashamed, but at least you're calmer than before. They don't look as the assholes you thought they were gonna be. Men having fun, that's all; enjoying a family dinner.

“So, you work at a preschool?” Gilly seems alleviated when Riz changes the topic.

“Yes”. You nod covering your mouth with a hand, eating one bite. “Since two years ago”. You say after swallowing it. “With children from three years to six”.

“Is it hard?” EZ asks focusing in your words.

“Sometimes. Mostly they're good children, but when they wake up after a nap… Good god, they are like a herd of hungry coyotes”. That comparison accompanied by the gesture on your face seems so funny that everyone laugh.

“Where are you from, (Y/N)?” Bishop asks with a kind of curiosity that makes you feel uncomfortable for a second.

“Mexico”.

“Tijuana”.

Gilly and you answer at the same time.

“Tijuana, Mexico, I mean”. You add. And you can see that the president is thinking about something that you wouldn't like to know.

The night goes on, feeling a kind of strange tension installed between Bishop and you, even if you try to push it away. But your attention travel to a noisy car being parked next to the motorbikes, and you can swear that you heard a “shit” coming from Angel's mouth. Three girls get out of it. Short dresses, exaggerated makeup and smelling like tropical fruits. You turn your face to the men around you, they don't seem so happy because of the new visit.

The girls walk towards the fire, having some beers of the nearest table, believing that they're the divas in the party. You can't handle with arrogance, but you keep your mouth closed.

“Looks like you saw a ghost, what's up, caballeros?” The blonde one shrugs for a moment, before drink of the bottle. “Woah, look at that pretty girl! Are you new? What street do you work on?”

Taza and Creeper snort. Did she call you ‘bitch’? Seems like. You raise a leg on the chair, supporting your feet on the edge of it. Your arm on your knee, the beer in your hand. You adopted that defensive posture, 'cause sometimes it's better let your body talks instead of your mouth.

“She's (Y/N), my girlfriend”.

“Yea' and don' worry 'bout your work, Crystal”. Coco says smoking of his cigar. “She's a teacher. A girl with a real job”.

If it was allowed, you could clap till hurt your hands because of his words.

“A real job is what I did with Gilly. I sucked his cock so many times it has my name on it”.

Now you know what's happening and why the men look so embarrassed. You know well what she's trying, but you're not intimidated by anyone. No longer. Slowly, very slowly, you draw a soft smile on your lips. That gesture baffles everyone. Tangling the fingers of your free hand on your hair, pulling it behind your shoulders, you have a sip of your drink.

“And it only cost me to erase it a quick ride in the shower.”

At first, the front yard is silent. The men are looking at you with the eyes so opened that you're sure they could fall on the floor.

“Yo! She destroyed my ego, but man! She destroyed your existence!” Angel's laughter resounds throughout the place.

At this point of the night, the MC knows they can't fucking mess with you.

You start to think that the blonde girl in front of you thought that she could be an “Old Lady” or however they call it, but she fucked up everything before you came to Gilly's life. You try to remember her name being pretty sure that he talked you about her. Yeah, she was the one who he used to fuck at Vicky's place. But they weren't anything. A girl making a favor. That's all. And yes, of course you believe him.

“He will come back to my bed, remember my words”. Crystal says, proudly lifting the chin.

“Why don' you fucking leave, uh?” Gilly finally talks with anger, gesticulating with a hand for a second. You put a hand on his chest, palming it softly without turning your eyes to him.

You get up of your seat, leaving the beer somewhere on the floor, walking toward her. Face to face. You can smell her disgusting breath of mixed cigars and who-knows-what. Your orbs travel all over her face, studying every inch of it. You can see she's getting nervous, invading her personal space. Cross-armed, you look her from top to bottom slowly.

“You already had your glory minute. Now, leave”.

“Or what?”

“I know you're smart enough to know what's gonna happen' next”.

The three girls laugh, while the others whom were so kind with you are sighing. Seems like it's not the first time she do something similar. The problem comes when she's against someone who's ready for everything.

Crystal pushes you away with both hands on your chest, hardening her face. You laugh softly, putting your eyes on your own feet. Bad decision. Your left fist hits her ribs, causing her to bend forward with a yowl inside her throat. Moving faster, you put both hands on her nape, hitting her face this time with your knee, lifting it up tight. And when you're about to punch her again, hearing the crying, two shoots in the air make you stop. Of course, seeing how fast you move, the Mayans weren't gonna mediate physically. Your chest ascends and descends furious. Pushing your hair away from your face, you turn to the men. They're totally freaking out, but you're not able to look at Gilly. You're fucking ashamed.

The two unknown girls help their friend while Bishop keeps the gun behind his back, walking next to you. You think you fucked up things, before see how he directs his gaze towards Crystal.

“Don't talk about my man like that again, and if you can't respect his Old Lady as she deserves, then get the fuck out of my fucking MC. Or 'am gonna fuck you down and not in the way you would like it, you heard me, querida?” Then, he looks at you. “Come with me”.

Without a word, you follow the president inside the clubhouse, walking the place they call ‘the templo’; a large room with a big table in the middle. He takes a seat on the front chair, pointing with his hand the nearest. You do what appears to be an order. Taking the tobacco pack of his pocket, he offers you a cigar. You light it in your lips having a deepest puff. He does the same. You know that he knows.

“I saw the tattoo between the ring finger and the small one”.

“It's just a tattoo”. You shake your head with pursed lips.

“No, it's not”. He sentences. There's a pause, before he continues talking. “What are you doing here?”

“I'm hiding”.

“From what?”

“From a crazy ex”.

He raises an eyebrow, supporting his arms against the edge of the table.

“You can ask for my medical reports and all the complaints I made”. Your heart is beating faster than you could it's allowed.

“Are you an active member?”

“I've never been. My brother is the president, that's all”.

“You're brother is the president of Los Coyotes de Tijuana, and you say ‘that's all’?”

“Look, I'm not here to… spy or something like that. God! This is why I didn't tell anything about it, Bishop. Why would I have waited two years? It doesn't make sense”.

“Gilly knows?”

“Of course not”.

The man sighs rubbing his temples, throwing himself in the chair. He have a smoke, leaving it out by his nose.

“Your brother knows?”

“Yes”.

“You know you have to request a transfer if you wanna stay here, even if you are not an active member, right?”

“Yes”.

“And you have to tell Gilly”. Your heart stop for a second. You nod swallowing. But then happens something you didn't expect. Bishop holds your hand on the table, urging to look at him. “He's a good man, even if he does what he does. And I know you're telling the truth, but there are no secrets between my crew. And now, you're part of it. If you need protection, we'll give it to you. Although you know how to defend yourself, kid”.

You nod again in silence, while the man is getting up of his chair.

“I'll tell Gilly to come and you're gonna say him who you are, ok? And tomorrow you will arrange a meeting with Los Coyotes”.

Another nod.

The wait for your boyfriend is insanely long, feeling how your heart stops again when the door is opened. You can't turn to him, it's hard to face a situation where you are about to lose the only good thing you have had in life.

“You ok?” He sounds worried, sitting next to you.

“I have to… tell you something, Gilly. And I don't know how to do it”.

“Then make up the truth”. He repeats the words you said in Santa Madre, but you shake your head.

“I wasn't scared of Mayans”. You start, raising your eyes looking for his. “I was scared of what I have to tell you and you don't accepting it, or don't accepting me”.

He's listening only focused on you.

“My brother is the president of Los Coyotes de Tijuana”.

He has an impassive grin on his face.

“I'm not a member, I'm… just his sister, even if I grow up with them. My parents were killed because of their fault, more or less. So, they ‘adopted us’. My brother begun to be a prospect, till three years ago when they made him their president”. You sigh heavily, before showing him the tattoo on your finger. “Look… I didn't tell you 'cause…”

“Bishop already told me your story, before coming in”. He finally talks, and you're not sure what to think. “Are you really here because of me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you really feel something for me, or it was just a trick to get closer to the Mayans?”

“Good god…”

“Answer the question, (Y/N)?” His voice is rough, determinant.

“I know it's been three months since we met, but… Shit, Gilly! You're everything I want. I've been hiding my whole life. And yes, I know how to fight, or shoot, or whatever. But being with you made me feel safe for the first time. And it's not only that. You take care of me without expecting anything back.” You're trying your best, exposing all your truly feelings for him. “Gilly, I love you. And I don't wanna lose you. Please… believe me”.

“Arrange the meeting, (Y/N)”. It's all he says.

“Gilly, please…”

“I have to go”.

“No, Gilly, listen. Please!” You're in tears getting up of your seat at the same time he does, trying to stop him.

“Leave me, (Y/N). I need to think and be alone”.

You nod biting your trembling inner lip, looking how he walks out of the Templo.

[third-rail-vip]

Wide Awake

Summary:

“It’s quiet out here... too quiet” might be fun to say, but when it’s 2am and quiet as hell in Sanctuary, sometimes it’s just boring.

A sleepless MacCready pays a visit to the only other person who might still be awake.

Notes:

Tumblr fluff prompt: “what are you doing here?  it’s late.”   I accidentally deleted the ask because i’m an idiot. 

Beautiful screenshot of the night sky at Sanctuary very kindly lent by @mutantenfisch 

Rating:  Teen

Word Count: 3873    [AO3 link]   [Then I Met You - Series Link]

MacCready couldn’t sleep.  Lay in his darkened room, he huffed out a sigh – cigarette smoke mingled with condensation in the cold air.  A cursory glance at his watch told him it was pushing 2 am.  

What felt like too many hours ago, he’d found a spot in one of Sanctuary’s many unoccupied houses and bedded down on a mattress that seemed to be more springs than anything else, but it would do.  He’d slept on worse.  

Not that sleep seemed to be on the cards.

Nah, the mattress wasn’t the problem.  He just couldn’t settle properly the first night back in ‘civilisation’ after weeks on the road.  His nerves were still on edge.  He’d barely undressed for bed, only shedding his coat, hat and kicking off his boots.  His rifle lay at hand by the mattress, ready for what still felt like the imminent possibility of attack.  He’d studied the ceiling until his candle burnt down, then lay in the darkness, not even able to blame his usual turn on first watch for keeping him awake—they’d be well into Ivy’s shift by now.

Not that she’d be awake.  She’d be enjoying a quiet night’s sleep, some space to herself and no monsters ready to jump out of the shadows.

Just whatever prowls the dark places in her head.

MacCready shook the thought from his mind; it wasn’t any of his business where his partner went in those glassy-eyed moments when the colour left her cheeks and she looked like she was watching something so real she could reach out and touch it.  Something he had no idea how to even begin looking for.  All he could do was watch her back if it happened again.  

Instead, he busied himself fidgeting with a fresh pack of cigarettes— ‘fresh’ 200 years ago anyway —unable to decide whether he should just lie there and light another or get up and stretch his legs in the hope that the cold night air would either wake him up fully or put him to sleep.  

Whatever he chose, he needed to decide soon because the boredom was driving him nuts.  

He sat up, suspiciously eyeing the sliver of moonless sky he could see through a hole in the unpatched roof above him.  For a boy who grew up in a cave, darkness made him twitchy (not that Lamplight was a dark place, the clue was in the damn name).  The thing he’d come to realise about the dark and the quiet was, if you didn’t know any better, it could too easily be mistaken for calm and safe.  Once, just once, he’d let himself be taken in by it.  And he’d have to live with that for the rest of his days.  

These days, not that MacCready would ever admit it, he liked it better if there was just that little bit of light to creep past his eyelids as he drifted off, and maybe a bit of noise too, some sort of show that there was life around him; campfires, candles, even the tinny echo of Ivy’s pipboy broadcasting that jackass, Travis, at all hours would do the trick.  

This quiet wouldn’t do at all.  Too few distractions.  Too much time to think.  

Finally freeing a cigarette, he fumbled for his lighter in the darkness, flicked it a few times to no avail.  A cursory shake confirmed it—empty.  He tossed it aside, tucked the cigarette back into the pack and reached for his boots instead.  

A walk it was.

------

The damn door creaked.  

MacCready cursed himself for using it instead of the other one, which didn’t even technically have a door in it anymore.  Idiot.   He’d seen a glow through the window and hadn’t even thought.  He’d just walked straight in.  

Ivy’s house (the one she’d adopted, anyway) wasn’t like the one he’d chosen to hide away in.  It didn’t smell like damp or have holes in the roof.  Someone had gone to great effort to get it back to being homely.  It still smelled like supper from that evening, leftover veg stew, and the vague scent of-MacCready sniffed-was that carrot flowers?  Probably had something to do with that fussy old woman of a Mr Handy unit.  He was undoubtedly why there was also a lingering smell of disinfectant.

Ivy had told him that it had stayed there cleaning its old masters’ house for two hundred years.  What a loser.  

From the meagre moonlight he could just make out the dark shapes of the kitchen counters ( there was the vase of flowers the robot must have decided to put out while playing house in honor of his new mistress’s return home), the rickety dining table they’d decided not to eat their supper at, and the couch that, on the one occasion he’d been stupid enough to throw himself onto it, turned out to be even more uncomfortable than the one in their usual room at the Dugout.  

The faint welcoming glow of lantern light from the hallway to the bedrooms almost made him forget his midnight trespassing.  He meandered forward – fully intending to announce his arrival– only to boot a water bowl right across the room.  He dived forward trying to put an end to the metallic ringing and sloshing, but too late.

“Who’s there?”

Mac knew Ivy well enough to hear the edge of panic behind the warning in that shout.  He clamped his hands onto the bowl, finally stopping it rolling, and looked up from his spot knelt in a puddle of dog water.  

Ivy darted out from the farthest room, the one where the warm light spilled from, oh, and now he felt bad .   She was dressed for bed in the over-large plaid shirt she’d picked up from some trader in Diamond City; something more comfortable to sleep in that her vault suit, she’d said - it hadn’t seen much use, given the amount of time they spent staying in places where it was safer to stay as armoured as possible, even when trying to get a night’s rest.  Her hair was all over the place, like she’d been tossing and turning, trying to get settled as badly as he had.  Frankly, she looked exhausted.  

But only a real dumbass would tell her that right now, because the startled woman, whose house he’d walked into at 2am was currently levelling a pistol straight at his head.  

“Woah woah woah!  Angel, it’s just me!”  MacCready stuck his hands up in the air, giving her a startled grin.  He may be used to being on the end of the threat of her pistol—he couldn’t help having a smart mouth—but the actual pistol… that was new.  “Is this a hold-up?  You want me to hand over my caps?”

Ivy dropped the gun to her side with a muttered curse and flopped back against her doorframe.  

“Mac?   What are you doing here?  It’s late.”  Rocking her head back, she let out a shaky breath.  “You scared the shit out of me.”

He shrugged apologetically from his spot on the floor, avoiding her question long enough for her to wander forward offering her free hand.

“You can get off the floor now, tiger,” she said with a sigh that edged into a smirk.  “Like I could get any caps out of you anyway.  Gunpoint or not.”

Now banter he could handle.  It was one of his favourite things about her, she enjoyed his teasing and his joking, she even put up with his snarking.  Plus, she’d offered him the perfect get out of jail free card to avoid any explanations about why he was there.  

He let his gaze flick down the bare legs he was currently eye-to-thigh with, and back up to Ivy’s face, giving her an excessively dramatic eye roll.  

“If you’re trying to impress me, it’s not going to work,” he drawled.

She withdrew her hand with a mock scowl and gave him a sharp, but not painful, kick—enough to send him from kneeling to sitting in the puddle of dog water—turned on her heel and wandered back up the hall to her room.  With maybe a little more sway to her hips than was entirely necessary.  

It was probably safer not to call her on it though, she was still armed, after all.  Best just to stay put, watch maybe...

“I was in bed, thank you very much.  There were blankets and everything.”  She snarked back over her shoulder at him, finally giving a cursory glance as she reached her room before disappearing out of view.  “I was just drifting off when I heard this absolute racket.  And I thought to myself, it’s not Christmas for a few more weeks, so it can’t be Santa.  Not that he doesn’t owe me 210 years’ worth of presents…”

And people thought he was the sarcastic one.

MacCready grinned, getting up quickly and bounding after her up the hall.  

He was careful to avoid looking into the darkened nursery as he passed.  His first time in Sanctuary he’d found Ivy staring into the room.  She’d asked him if he thought they’d ever find that missing boy, Shaun, but he couldn’t answer.  The sight of that damn crib haunted him.  All he could think about was Duncan and how time was passing and he’d gotten nowhere.  He’d just about managed to thickly mutter “yeah, sure”, which didn’t sound overly convincing to either of them, before he had to rush outside and try not to be sick.  

Leaning on her doorframe, he peeked round the corner into the room.  It was mainly taken up by an old pre-war bed that’d been fixed up like new since the last time they were there.  There were clothes, sketchbooks and empty gumdrop wrappers strewn over a dresser in the corner - Codsworth mustn’t be allowed in here, there was no way he’d leave it such a mess. The glow that spilled out into the hallway came from an oil lantern balanced on the windowsill and a single candle, melting its way down on the bedside table.  

On the bed was an open comic and more gumdrops.  She hadn’t been sleeping either.  

“If you don’t think you can get caps out of me, you can be damn sure you aren’t getting 210 presents,” he grinned, but Ivy was too busy rummaging through the dresser drawers to do anything more enthusiastic than throw a sock at him.  

He flopped down onto his back on the bed and snatched up the comic and a handful of gumdrop.  This bed was a damn sight more comfortable than the crappy mattress he had to put up with, that was for sure.  

Grognak the Barbarian and the Jungle of the Bat Babies.

“Meh.  I’ve got this one,” he complained as he munched on the candy, continuing to idly leaf through the pages anyway.  

“Well if you wouldn’t mind not losing my page…”  Ivy shot him a sharp look over her shoulder as she dragged on a pair of tatter jeans.

After weeks of sleeping in foxholes, broken-down houses and on rooftops, privacy between the two of them had become less of an issue, he’d gotten fairly used to catching sight of her trying to wriggle in and out of a vault suit in his peripheral vision, but he still couldn’t help smirking at the idea of the raised eyebrows there’d be around the settlement if they could see them now.  He had to stop himself chuckling out loud, wondering what Garvey would think of his precious General having an ex-Gunner in her room in the middle of the night.  

Best not to get too smart about the Gunner part… he’d heard about Quincy.  Might have been years after his time with them, but that kind of association tainted the way people looked at a man.  

Most people anyway.  

He glanced over at Ivy who was trying to get her hair to behave.  Christ knows why, it’s not like there was anyone to see it.   It wasn’t Preston’s fault he kept catching on Mac’s last nerve, it was just… there were only so many times you could hear someone called a ‘good man’ without starting to wonder if that made you the ‘bad’ one.  Not to mention the looks—he glanced at Ivy again—the way Garvey would go soft whenever she was helping that handyman with settlement stuff, or any other do-gooder crap.  You’d think she was some kind of miracle.  

He’d bet every last cap he owned that the man had never seen her pickpocket Gunners or watched those fingers crack a lock faster than any professional he’d ever met, just to break into a guy’s house because he rubbed her up the wrong way.  No, MacCready might call her angel, but he was more than aware that she was flesh and blood.  

Ivy plonked herself down cross-legged on the end of the bed, entirely derailing his train of thought.  

“So, a gentleman caller at this late hour… tongues will wag.”  She raised an eyebrow.  “Did you just come here to frighten me or did you need something?”

Well now he felt like an idiot.  There was no dodging the question this time, and she was watching him intently.  Why was he here?  

Because he was lonely?  Heck no.   He couldn’t sleep and he’d gotten used to having someone to talk to?   He was bored?  This place is too damn quiet and too damn boring.  And how the hell could she live here before the war?  Surrounded by boring houses with boring people and boring jobs and boring everything , when she wasn’t boring at all…

“I saw your light was on.”

“You couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

“Never can on the first night somewhere.” He gave in and shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage.  “Still feels like I need to watch the shadows.  Anyway, I gave up trying and figured I’d get some air.”  

She considered his statement for a moment.  He hoped she wasn’t considering too hard how much ending up in her house probably didn’t count as ‘getting air’.  

“Air sounds good.”

Well, he couldn’t say he wasn’t a little disappointed at the turn of events.  He’d just been getting comfy, wondering if he could sneakily doze off and then she’d be stuck with the couch - she could usually be relied on to be too nice to wake him if she didn’t have to.  But he dutifully put aside the well-thumbed comic, grabbed another handful of gumdrops and waited for her to pull on some shoes and grab a spare blanket before they headed outside. 

------ 

Ivy swore under her breath, something about Boston winters even without snow.  She gave an exaggerated shiver and dragged the blanket around her shoulders before joining MacCready in the street.  She probably should’ve grabbed a coat, MacCready mused, but she didn’t seem bothered enough to head back into the house.  Instead she fidgeted on the spot, looking at him expectantly.

“It’s your walk,” she whispered after a moment, keeping her voice low for fear of waking the long since passed out settlers.  He could just about see she was smiling at him despite the shadows of the house.  “Lead on, boss. ”  

Boss.  He rolled his eyes at her, but led the way anyway, meandering slowly up the street towards the end of the cul-de-sac, their footsteps crunching quietly on the broken asphalt as they passed house after darkened house.  

MacCready stopped when he reached the tree that dominated the end of the estate, not sure where to go next.  He hadn’t thought this far ahead.  They could wander the edge of the small island that housed the settlement, but that ran the risk of bumping into whoever was on guard and then they’d be stuck making awkward conversation.  They could cross the north bridge towards the vault.  No, definitely not.  Ivy was one of the few people he knew who wanted to go near a vault even less than he did.  Especially that vault.  Anyway, they were meant to be distracting each other from lack of sleep, not creating more reasons for it.  

Ivy must have noticed the lost look on his face (or just got impatient of waiting) because felt a tap on his arm.  She didn’t wait for him to respond before dragging him towards the farthest house.  Instead of going inside, she led the way to a ladder propped up against the roof.

“You’ve got your binoculars, right?”  she whispered, pointing up the ladder.  “After you.”

He gave her a confused look, but patted the pair strapped to his belt, and went ahead and climbed first - offering Ivy a hand when she reached the top.  Other than a couple of tall trees, the roof offered an unimpeded view right across the commonwealth down to the coast.  

They settled down on the broad roof tiles, feet in the gutter so they didn’t slip down.  Ivy had offered to lay the blanket out for them to sit on but after her display outside the house, he wasn’t going to sit there and watch her shiver for the sake of keeping his ass warm.  And he told her as much.

“Don’t let anybody tell you I’m not a gentleman,” he grinned after her laughter died down.  

It was a hell of a view.  Mac scanned the horizon, picking out the familiar shapes that loomed in the darkness; the jagged skyscrapers of Boston’s skyline - lit up by Diamond City’s unsubtle display of lights, the satellite bank out near the coast, and the freeway, snaking across the landscape towards mass pike interchange.  That held his attention a little longer than the rest.  Just one more item on his list of problems.

But Ivy didn’t seem to notice.  She wasn’t even looking out across the vista, she was sat back on her elbows, staring straight up into the night sky.  

He leant back too, looking across at her but he didn’t stand a chance of catching her eye, she was completely enthralled.  After a couple of minutes he gave up and gently prodded her, “Come back down to earth, spaceman…”  It was enough to get her to tear her eyes away from the sky and glance back across at him.  A sad smile touched her lips.  

“My dad loved looking at the stars.  It was kind of his job... along with a lot of math.  He taught at a college back home.”  She didn’t often talk about before, and he wasn’t sure she’d ever mentioned her family.  “You don’t know how lucky you are, seeing the sky like this.  People would travel hundreds of miles for a view like this.”

“Seriously?”  MacCready stared up, bemused.  

“Seriously.”  She smiled at him, or maybe through him.  Her mind seemed to be somewhere else, but not in a bad way for once.  “Have you ever tried to look at the stars when you’re in Diamond City?  Even Goodneighbor?  It’s far too bright, you can barely see anything.  That’s what most places were like before the war.  It was all streetlights stopping you from seeing ‘one of the best views in the universe’.  That’s what my dad used to say, anyway.  He used to drive me, my mum and my brother out into the middle of the countryside on clear nights like this.  I swear he’d talk about space all night, if mum let him.”

“Sorry, I went a bit off topic…” She let out a small laugh and shook her head.  “I think the point I was aiming for was it’s beautiful.”

“I suppose it is.”  

He hazarded a smile in the dark.  Starlight suited her.  Sat there bathed in the soft glow, wide-eyed and taking everything in as though she was seeing it for the first time, she looked genuinely happy.  Completely lost to the world, mind, with no idea of anything else happening around her.  

“I’m probably boring you to death.”

“No.  Well maybe a little.”  MacCready couldn’t resist a chance to tease.  “I read about stars when I was a kid.  Big balls of glowing gas, yada yada.  You said your dad was an expert, show me something I don’t know.”

Ivy sat up, giving him a determined look.  Oh good, challenge accepted.  “Fine.  Give me those binoculars.”

He handed them over and watched her tracing the sky above them, leaning back to look further and further north east until she spotted what she wanted.  

“You see that star?” she pointed.  “The fuzzy looking one.”  

“They all look fuzzy.”

“No they don’t!  Come here.”  She shuffled right up next to him, still pointing in the direction she was looking.  

It took about five minutes of manhandling to get him looking in the right direction.  He was having too much fun winding her up by purposefully not paying attention, and laughing too hard when she tried to move him by his chin because it tickled.  Eventually, and only after she begged, he stopped still long enough for her to get him looking in the right direction - according to her anyway.  To him it just looked like any other star.

“Ok, stay still will you?”  This time Mac did his best as she squashed right up next to him, and pressed her cheek against his to make sure they were both looking where they should be.  She produced the binoculars again, holding them so they had an eyepiece each, and finally he could see what she was talking about.  

“Right, so it’s a fuzzy star?” he muttered from trying to keep his head still.  There’d be hell to pay if he didn’t.  

“Look again.  See the ellipse shape?”  

“Yeah, the fuzzy one.  What about it?”

“Oh, there might be a couple more than just that one fuzzy little star.”  She pulled away and handed him the binoculars, tired, but beaming.  “More like a trillion of them, a couple of million light years away.   That is the Andromeda Galaxy.”

“No shit- oop.”

MacCready clamped a hand across his mouth in a poor attempt to catch the curse that had slipped past his lips.  

“Does that count as something you didn’t know?”  Ivy giggled softly, stifling a yawn as she lay back down and pulled the blanket tighter around her.  “Damn.  I should’ve put some caps on it.”

“Yeah, I’d say it counts,” he grinned.  “But trust me, I’ve learned not to make bets against you.”

MacCready lay back, staring at the sky, eyes fixed on that blurry star that turned out to be much more than it appeared.  He opened his mouth to quiz Ivy some more, but in the quiet he could hear that her breathing had become soft and even.  A glance confirmed it, she was fast asleep.  

“Well, I don’t know how I’m going to get you down off this roof,” he whispered, reaching over to tuck an errant curl back behind her ear.  “So it looks like we’re here for the night.”

He settled back again, pulling the brim of his cap down over his eyes before resting his head on his hands.  This time sleep found him easily, a smile on his face, thinking of a little boy back home who would love to hear all about the stars.

[seriouslyhooked]

When We Collide (Part 1)

Emma Swan has always known one thing: trust no one but yourself. Unfortunately she forgot her one rule and now she’s paying for it. One bad decision led her to the monstrous ‘Crocodile’ a mobster in New York who goes by the name Gold. Hope seems lost until she meets another person in this underworld, Killian Jones. Despite the place they find each other, a true love blossoms, and they manage to get away. But what will happen when Emma discovers who Killian really is? Will love prevail? Um, yeah, I’m writing this, so duh – it’s all love all the time. Fic features motorcycles, hot guys in leather cuts, and a bit of action/drama. Will end happily, and despite the first chapter, will be light on angst. Available on FanFiction Here and AO3 Here. 

A/N: Hey everyone! Surprise! There’s a new fic I’m here to share with you all, and full disclosure, it is very different than my usual fare. You will be able to tell that from this first chapter, and for some of my readers it might be a bit too much. Not to worry, this is just a prologue of sorts, and next chapter will start in a brighter, more hopeful place (we will flash forward in time). Be advised that there is no graphic violence or anything like that, but the premise of this story involves Emma owing a debt to Gold (a mob boss in New York) that she has to pay. She’s working it off in a bar, but she’s not exactly free to go as she does. That’s a lot angstier of a situation than I ever like to deal with, so it’s temporary, but want to give you all the heads up just so you know. I suspect a lot of you will read this and think it’s not that bad, but I figure it’s best to give everyone the heads up. Anyway, I promise that this story will eventually be just as fluffy and feels-filled as my other stories, and I hope you’ll give it a try, even if you decide to skip this chapter and just join for the next. Also, just to shout out the excellent song that partially inspired this fic, you should all listen to the song ‘Collide’ by Tiana Major9 & EARTHGANG. It’s a really beautiful song, and I hope the fic can embody the feel of it as it continues to unfold. Thanks so much for reading, and hope you enjoy!

Maybe I’ll get lucky and everyone will forget I’m back here, Emma thought to herself as she counted up the bottles on the shelves, taking a quick inventory of what they had for the bar out front.

She also needed to keep this count to protect herself. She’d learned a few days into this gig that Gold’s men loved their liquor and they had a tendency to come back here and take it. Instead of letting them do that and then allowing her and her coworkers to take the blame, Emma came up with a system including locks on the door and an electronic documentation of what they had and when. There was no wifi hook up, obviously, as Gold made sure to keep a strict lock on their surroundings, but it did provide an timestamped trail that proved she was taking nothing from this place. Every night she cashed in her tips with Sydney, the bar’s ‘owner’ but really just Gold’s front man and lap dog, and she watched as the debt she owed grew smaller and smaller. In six more months she’d be free of this and she was doing anything and everything she could to shorten that time.

Thinking about her debt made a flare of anger rise in her belly. Truth was this wasn’t even her fucking debt, it was Lily’s, a woman Emma believed to be her friend. They’d met when they were still kids, both of them runaways, and though time had driven them apart, they reconnected when they realized they were both living in New York. Emma had managed to get steady, honest work and was doing her best to claw up from the nothing that she’d started with in life, and she thought Lily was doing the same. Boy had she been wrong.

It turned out that Lily didn’t pay her part of the rent with anything resembling clean money. She’d worked for Gold, and then she fucked him over and ran, leaving Emma none the wiser and thrust into the fallout of a crime she’d never committed. When that moment came Gold gave her two choices: pay off the money he was owed, or suffer a bit before accepting and still paying, but in a less desirable way. Emma chose the former, and she gave everything she had to the man, but it still wasn’t enough. Lily had managed to get off with almost 50k, and while that was chump change to Gold, it was more than double Emma’s savings. Still she’d promised to get him the money, to give him every paycheck she could, save for her rent and food expenses. But it didn’t satisfy the Crocodile, as people were prone to calling him. Gold decreed that she’d work in the bar and that was that. She’d also been ‘moved’ to one of the apartments above the place. But none of her actual belongings ever arrived. All she had was work uniforms and bare essentials. There was no TV, no phone, no nothing. She’d been graced with tattered linens, the most basic of household essentials (as in one plate, one fork, one of everything) and a bunch of dusty books on ranging topics left from tenants past. She also had a chip on her shoulder, created from the unjustness of this whole situation, pushing her to get out of this shit as fast as she could.

“Yo, Emma, you coming back at some point?” A voice asked from the doorway. It was one of her coworkers, a guy named August who she’d never had much to do with. He seemed pretty okay, but then again, he was here working for Gold and he didn’t even seem to have the whole debt-pay off factor going. That was a huge red flag, and one of the reasons Emma never trusted him much. “We got customers.”

“One minute,” she said, and waited until the door swung closed again. Knowing she was along she closed her eyes and took some steadying breaths, gearing up for what would no doubt be a terrible night.

It’s temporary. You just have a few more months. You’ve survived worse. You can survive this too.

When she felt strong enough to put her mask in place and face the raucous debauchery that awaited her outside, Emma squared her shoulders and headed out. Her eyes had to adjust quickly to the dimness of the lighting, and she took in the stronger scents of stale cigar smoke and piss that always clung to this place. No matter how much they cleaned after hours, there was no getting rid of the odor or the grime. This bar was better off burned to the ground and completely built over, but to the men who frequented it, this place was the closest thing they had to home. The Lair, as the neon sign outside advertised, was a total dive, and it was filled to the brim with low-rate mobsters and criminals.

This was one of those places that Hollywood constantly tried ripping off to no avail. In some ways it was completely corny and predictable, and so blatant in its criminal ties that it felt like a joke that everyone was in on. But the embellishments and adornments here were over the top and gaudy, too tacky even for a Las Vegas casino. Gold’s namesake was splashed everywhere, from the countertops to the barstools to the curtains on the back walls. When the finishing got gross and dirty, they’d be replaced, but the style was dated and straight out of the 70s. It was a mobster hideaway with no pretensions, and Emma always thought to herself that the cops should be busting in every night. This was an obvious den of misconduct, but no cops ever came. The reality was that Gold had half the police force in his pocket, and the other half were too scared to cross him for fear of what he’d bring down on them. Gold might be ridiculous and over the top, but he was powerful, and more than that he was smart, so smart Emma knew better than to ever try to run and think she could get away with it.

“Well, well, well. Ain’t you lookin good tonight, sweetheart?”

Emma fought the instinct to roll her eyes at the slurred and shouted words that crossed the bar top over to where she was standing. Two months into her captivity here, and Emma knew better than to let her baser instincts win out. Despite how gross this man was, and how underwhelming he was on any metric of attractiveness, Emma couldn’t cave to her want to blow him off. Doing so was a risk, and if she had any chance of surviving this hell hole, she could not afford to take those.

“What can I get you, Mr. Black?” Emma asked, ignoring the stench of sweat and booze that mingled with the man’s cheap aftershave. She looked at him for only a second before looking down again, knowing her best bet was to try and blend into the background and let these men set their sights on the women who actually wanted to be here.

“I’ll take a night in bed with you, darlin’.” Emma chocked down a gag but flashed an insincere smile as she shook her head.

“You know the rules, Black. I work for Gold in a strictly drink-serving capacity.”

“Damn waste if you ask me, putting talent like you up in the bar.”

A waste? Emma considered it a small miracle. Since the day that Gold’s men had swarmed her apartment with guns drawn, looking for Lily, Emma had been completely at the will of a monster. She knew from the second they apprehended her and brought her back here that she could be destined for anything. People talked about Gold in this city and there was no crime he was too good to partake in. He had brothels all over the place and a stake in the skin trade. He ran drugs and guns, made people disappear and black mailed anyone he could. He had no moral restrictions, and no love greater than the one had for money and control. He owned this city in almost every single way, and if he chose to, he could make her life even worse than it was now. So much worse. It sent a shiver up her spine to even contemplate some of the things she’d heard whispered about. But Gold, as dark and twisted as he was, did have a code, and he’d briefly explained it to her the night she was brought in.

“I’m a man who collects his debts, Miss Swan, but I am also a man who sees a whole story. You had nothing to do with Lily’s betrayal, I know this. You’re collateral damage, a source of collection through no fault of your own. The debt must be payed, but since you yourself have never wronged me, I’ll be good to you. You even think of crossing me, however, and you’ll live to regret it.”

Emma knew the truth when she heard it. Her gut was never wrong. Even with Lily, the problem wasn’t that Emma had missed her true colors, she’d just chosen to ignore the telltale signs of a problem person because she really had no other friends. She hoped that Lily may come around, that she’d get better and really try and make a go of things in an above board way, but with Gold there was no doubt as to the veracity of his threat. If he felt Emma was disloyal, he’d punish her, and if at the end of this there was any doubt that she’d turn on him, she would never be free. She had to be picture perfect in her actions. A pretty, polite prisoner who served their time and then kept silent. She was ready to do that, she just had to stick to her plan and keep her head up in the meantime.

As she made Mr. Black’s drink and got caught into the flow of the bar, serving men their beer and liquor until they all got drunk as hell, Emma counted down the seconds until the night would be over. She gathered her measly tips, and kept them guarded close, and she knew that tonight would be like every other. She was trapped here, in this darkness, destined to be unhappy but determined to survive. When she was free of this she’d go as far away from Gold’s hold as she could. She’d find a cabin somewhere, live a quiet kind of life, and she’d never put herself in this kind of position again. Her lesson had been learned – she could trust no one but herself, and though that was a totally lonely sensation, she had to try and accept it or risk hurting herself all over again down the line.

Suddenly, in the midst of the normal night’s activities, the front door blew open and Emma felt a tingling of anticipation when it did. She hadn’t looked in that direction all night long, never liking the people who would dare to enter here, but her instincts were screaming at her to turn around and look. She had no idea why, but when she obeyed the internal command, she was shocked into stillness, caught up in the sight of the man who’d just walked in.

Tall, dark, and fiercely handsome, this man was sin personified and so much better looking than the other thugs that came here every night. He didn’t look out of place though, aside from his attractiveness. The clothes he wore were made of leather and spoke to some dangerous intent. He made no show to hide the side arms he was carrying, one on his hip and one strapped across his chest, and the scowl on his face made him seem hard and unapproachable. For a moment, Emma had the chance to take him in, and despite the fierceness of his expression, she felt a flutter low in her stomach.

His chiseled jaw with the well-trimmed beard he had was hot, as was the symmetry of his features and the way his broad body clenched and she could see his muscles. But if someone were to ask her what stood out most about this mystery man it was his eyes. They were blue, like the ocean in places she’d only read about. They weren’t icy or cold, but warm somehow and so thoroughly enticing. She felt herself lost in them, and then he looked at her, their gazes connecting, and that sensation grew so much stronger. She felt a kind of pang echo through her ribcage the moment he took her in, and she watched as the hardness of his face shifted ever so slightly. It was a small tell, most people wouldn’t have noticed, but Emma did, and she knew that he felt this too. Whatever the hell this was – the man who’d just arrived was just as captive to it as she was.

“Ah, Captain, you’re here!” One of the regulars said, laughing and flailing about as only truly drunk men did. “Didn’t think we’d ever get you to The Lair. Thought you was too good for us.”

The man they called ‘Captain’ tore his gaze from Emma and moved over to the man who’d called him over. His stride was measured and almost graceful, and Emma couldn’t help but follow him with her eyes. This was so unlike her. She made it her business not to watch anyone too closely. The less she knew about what everyone was really up to the better, but she was intrigued by this newcomer in a way she’d never been before.

“Boss wants to see you, Alvin. Something about the McManus shipment.” Alvin blanched at the comment and swallowed harshly and Emma knew for certain that this man was in trouble with Gold. She didn’t have much sympathy for Alvin, and in fact most of her intention was focused on this stranger, who had the touch of an accent she couldn’t quite place. His voice was silky and low, tantalizing in a way, and she wanted to hear more of it. “Perhaps you’d like a drink for the road. Not sure when you’ll have the chance for another.”

“Bring them this,” Sydney said, materializing from nowhere next to Emma. She jumped at the unexpected intrusion into her thoughts, and looked at the two glasses.

“Is this rum?” she asked dumbly and Sydney nodded.

“The best. Captain likes the good stuff.”

“Right,” Emma said, moving over with the tray to the table where both men sat. When she got there, she was struck speechless again. Being so close to this man only added to the allure. He was even more interesting close up, and she lost her head a little bit at the sight of him, but tried to pull herself together as best he could. “Your drinks, gentlemen.”

Alvin took the drink and downed in, but the stranger took his time, glancing at her over the glass and nodding. He didn’t smile, but his eyes conveyed a warmth he’d shared with no one else here. “Thank you, love.”

Knowing she couldn’t linger, Emma moved back to the other tables, continuing her work, but when she noticed Alvin and the mysterious man standing up to go a few minutes later, she felt a dash of disappointment. He was leaving, and she didn’t even know his name.

Okay, seriously? What the hell Emma? He’s one of them. He works for Gold. You don’t care about him. You can’t care.

The voice in her head scolded her for her fanciful thinking and this completely mistimed attraction. It was so foolish to think of him as anything but a threat, but her heart lurched at the thought. She was overcome with these weird feelings. Being so drawn to a man so quickly had never been her style. Certainly not now when she was in survival mode. But as she turned around to fill a tray with empty glasses on one of the far tables, she felt a presence behind her. She whipped around too quickly, only to run into him, and if it hadn’t been for his steadying hands, one on her arm and the other on her tray, the glasses would have shattered.

“You all right, love?”

“Um,” she licked her lips as her eyes darted up to and she nodded once. “Yes. I’m fine.”

“Good. Just wanted to give you this,” he said, handing her a tip. It was generous. Like a couple hundred-dollar bills generous. It was way more than their drinks had been and way way more than she could ever accept. It felt wrong, but there was a part of her that was desperate to keep it. This would put her that much closer to freedom. It was almost a week she wouldn’t have to work. Still she pushed it back at him.

“I can’t. It’s too much.”

“It’s hardly enough,” he replied ardently and her brow furrowed as she looked at his face, the earnestness on it clear as day to her. “I know these men, love. There’s no way they give you what you’ve earned. Not tonight, not ever. So please, take it.”

“Okay,” she agreed after a moment’s hesitation, feeling gratified by the fact that she had earned this, even if he wasn’t the one who should have to pay. “Thanks…”

“Killian,” he filled in before she could decide to use the nickname that Alvin had called him by.

“Killian,” she repeated, tasting the name on her tongue and loving the way it felt as it passed through her lips. “I’m Emma, by the way.”

“Emma,” he replied with a grin that was there and gone so quickly she would have missed it as she blinked. As it was, she knew she saw it, and that look was even more breathtaking than the rest of him. No one had a right to be that sexy. No one. “Well, until next time, Emma.”

With that, he turned and walked away, cold and composed once more as he led Alvin out of the bar and headed off into the night. And though Emma knew very little about him, she had a feeling she’d just met someone very important. Through the mist of all the new emotions and excitement, she sensed, deep down, that this man – Killian – mattered, and that somehow, someway, their fates were intertwined, destined to lead them back to each other in one way or another.

Post-Note: So there we have it! This is a short glimpse into the fic, kind of like a prologue if you will. Next chapter will flash forward a bit, because this honestly was angsty enough for me to write. I do not want to dwell in the bad circumstances Emma finds herself in, and instead want to get us to a fluffier, if still a bit wilder place than I am used to. As the description says this will be an MC (motorcycle club) romance, and we’ll reveal how that will come to pass in the next few chapters. In the meantime, I would love to hear what you all think! This is a break away from my usual fare, and pretty much the opposite of the other fic I am currently writing, but I have wanted to write a story like this for a really long time. I’m eager to share the rest of this fic with you all, and hope you will join me on this fun new journey. Anyway, thanks for reading and hope you have a great rest of your day!

[untilmynextstory]

Chapter 2: THE SLEEP OF BABIES

WORD Count: 7.9k

Enjoy!

Jax and Alma are laying in bed in his dorm room. They are still in lockdown. It’s midafternoon and the kids are out with his mom. It left him and Alma some valued alone time. With the door locked and Alma’s shirt raked up to under her breasts, Jax takes the time to admire her flat stomach as his hand lays atop of it. He can really soak in that they will be having another baby in the house. He barely thinks about the fact he is about to be promoted to Vice President. It pales in comparison to this news. 

Though, as he tries to spot the small changes that pregnancy brings to Alma, he does disclose everything that has happened the past few days within the club. He brings up the general unease the guys feel about agreeing to sell to the Mayans despite their current deal with the Niners. 

“You don’t seem happy about it.” Alma points out. Her small hands grab his and she contorts his fingers as she pleases. A small smile forms as both of his kids do the same thing. 

“It’s less blood, but now the Niners won’t be happy.” It’s like exchanging one enemy to make a new one. 

Alma’s teeth tug at her lips. “They have to understand that it’s just business.”

“We promised to never sell to the Mayans.” He informs her. It was the one thing that gave them such an easy alliance. Now they will be selling guns to their enemies that will aid them in their ongoing turf war. 

Jax doesn’t want to talk of club business anymore. He shifts so that he is laying in between his wife’s legs.  His breath tickles her stomach. “When can we announce the news?”

“I’m 10 weeks.” She informs him. “But I want to wait a little bit longer…”

“You’re worried?”

“Cautious. After Kaylee…I’m just cautious.” She informs him as she plays with his blonde hair. 

Jax places a kiss to her flat stomach. He doesn’t know how to ease her valid concerns, but it doesn’t take away the joy he feels for the upcoming expansion of his family. 

“I’m your old man,” he whispers to his unborn child. 

.

.

Jaxs’ smile threatens to break his cheeks as he embraces Opie. He clutches his friend tight and thanks god that he sees it fit to keep his friend safe and alive in prison. He is even thankful Darby has not broken his deal. 

He hates that his friend is stuck in prison for 5 years. But his friend is alive and that is all that matters. 

“Oh hell, don’t tell me you managed to knock Alma up again?” Opie guesses correctly. 

Jax smiles brightly. 

“Congratulations, bro.”

“Thanks. Having the two is crazy enough, but three,” Jax mutters. 

“You got yourself a good family.”

“The kids miss their Uncle Opie. Kaylee was upset she didn’t have the picture she wanted me to give you done in time.”

“I miss them. I miss all of them.” Opie tells him tightly. “But what else is going on?”

Jax lets the conversation change. “Well, you are looking at your new Vice President.”

“Get the fuck out of here.”

“We’re getting closer.” Jax tells him. They are getting closer to achieving their childhood dreams of being head of the club. 

“So new baby, promotion, what is the third thing we should be looking out for.”

Jax chuckles. “I don’t think the 3rd thing will be a good one.”

Opie tugs at his beard. “That sounds ominous.”

“I painted a wall.” Jax informs him. 

Opie’s eyebrows skyrocket. “What color?”

“Blue for the green. Had to be done. It looks better with the black.” Killed an official for the Irish. For the money. They had to kill Brenan Hefner and they basically got a free shipment of guns. 

“Someone helped.”

“Yeah, but green isn’t turning out to be my favorite. Doesn’t look right. I covered the carpet and windows, but I’m not sure…”

“Well painting isn’t our business.”

“I know.” They weren’t hit men. But maybe the thought of new life has him having doubts about taking one. 

“It’s just the impending fatherhood.” Opie cautions. 

“Maybe.”

.

.

It’s funny that it isn't until Alma realizes she is pregnant that her house is incredibly small. It’s then she notices how it’s not just having two kids leave her tripping over toys, but the fact there is barely any room for them. Even after going through and having the kids decide what they wanted to keep or donate, she realizes a third baby would be a tight fit. 

Alma loves her small home. It was hers and Jaxs’. They managed to make it their home. It is where she raised her babies. She doesn’t want to give it up. She thinks maybe they could add to the house. 

She knows Jax would contemplate it although ultimately deciding it would be better off just to buy a new one. She thinks she could manage him to at least add a room. She imagines it would be cheaper. 

She just doesn’t want to give this up. She is attached to this house after all the work and love she has put into it. 

She smiles as with her being pregnant she knows she can convince Jax of nearly anything. They would be keeping the house. She stands in front of her bedroom mirror and lifts up her shirt. Before Jax had left to head to Chino to see Opie, the doctor had confirmed she was two months and a couple weeks into the 3rd month. She turns to the side and she doesn’t really expect to see anything. She just looks bloated. But it’s all the evidence she needs to be extremely giddy about the pregnancy. 

She’s worried, of course, but it doesn’t stop the happiness at the thought of her and Jax bringing another child into the world. She doesn’t care if it’s a boy or girl. She just wants a healthy baby. 

A knock at the door startles. She drops her shirt and thinks it’s Gemma. She has the kids. She doesn’t know why she would knock, but she doesn’t think too hard on it. She walks to the door and expects the whirlwind of her children, but her body freezes at the sight of Agent Stahl standing at her doorstep. 

“Mrs. Teller –“

“Agent Stahl, how can I help you?” Alma interrupts. 

The tall blonde smiles at her. “I was just wondering where I could find your husband.”

Alma folds her arms across her chest. “I bet if you looked hard enough you could find him.”

“True, but actually I’m more interested in you and your family history.”

“Don’t know why? I’m not that much fun.”

Stahl chuckles at her. “I think dad would’ve had a problem with the Prince knocking up his daughter at 16.”

“This is old history, Stahl. The only person you could piss off with that knowledge is my mother. So tell me why you are here?”

Stahl quickly drops her charade and digs a photo out of her bag. “You recognize this man?”

Alma looks at a picture of an older gentleman. He looks like an average white man who could be anyone. “No, should I?”

“His name is Cameron Hayes. IRA. He is a known terrorist who we managed to track down in the Northern California area.”

“What does this have to do with me and my family?”

Stahl smirks. “A port commissioner was murdered a couple weeks ago. Rumored to piss off the IRA. Wondered if some friends helped with that.”

“Speculations don’t add to a warrant. If you appear on my doorstep one more time without one, I will call your superiors for harassment.”

“Gemma trains them well.” Stahl muses.

Alma keeps a blank face as Stahl walks back to her unmarked vehicle. It’s only her luck that Gemma pulls up into her driveway and Stahl even has the nerve to wave at the biker matriarch. Alma assumes the two women have already encountered each other. 

Alma steps down from the steps and goes to Gemma’s Escalade to help unbuckle the kids. 

“Mama!” Kaylee exclaims from her carseat. Alma unbuckles her and holds her close as she presses a kiss to her head. “Did you have fun with Grandma?”

“Lots!” Kaylee exclaims as she wiggles to be let down. “Is Daddy home?”

“Not yet,” She tells her daughter. Nathan doesn’t need help out of the car as he grabs his bag and rushes back in the house. Kaylee rushes in after him. 

She shakes her head and Gemma stands next to her. “What did Stahl want?”

“Just playing mind games.” Alma says brushing off the encounter. She’s been through this before. 

“It’s bullshit. They don’t have anything.” Gemma adds. 

“It’s all smoke going after the women, huh?” Alma knows the boys did something. She just doesn’t want to dwell on it. She wants nothing to distract her from the pregnancy. She doesn’t need the stress. 

It’s then that she gets a strong whiff of Gemmas’ perfume that her stomach turns. It has her running to the closest garbage can, which is in the kitchen. 

Fuck, her morning sickness couldn’t have come at a better time. She heaves and heaves until her throat burns something fierce. She groans and grimaces as she can smell her sour breath. She walks over to the sink to rinse her mouth out with some water. She needs a shower at this point. 

“So?” Gemma questions. “The last time I saw you throw up was when you decided to decorate my rose garden when you were pregnant with Kaylee.”

Alma takes another swish of the water. It seems the cat is out of the bag. She faces Gemma and wraps her arms around herself. “I’m two months along.” She admits. 

She watches as an ecstatic look overtakes Gemma’s features. The biker matriarch embraces her in a tight hug. “Another grandbaby. Who would’ve thought. Why the hush hush?”

“I’m just worried.”

“Sweetie –“

“I know.” Alma says with a sigh. She knows worrying will make her pregnancy more stressful, but she can’t help it.

“Everything will be fine.” Gemma assures her. 

.

.

.

It was quite easy to see that the wife of Opie Winston was the weakest link out of the few SAMCRO old ladies. Agent Stahl knows the recent single mother will crumble easily under the weight. Her intel had informed her how the small brunette had begun isolating herself from the inbred bikers. It was a rookie mistake and would leave the woman vulnerable. 

Stahl seats at the wooden table with the angry brunette. A baby is sleeping in a bassinet in the living room with the oldest boy coloring. Stahl tries to at least feel pity for these kids. 

“How are things going for you, Donna?”

“I’m pretty sure your notes already tell you how I am doing.”

Stahl gives her a stiff smile. “You’re smart, Donna. You can only see how SAMCRO is going to rip your family apart. It already has.”

“My family is fine.”

“And in five years…a lot can happen.” Stahl tells her as she leans up. “Are you aware of the enemies that your husbands’ motorcycle club has? Mayans, Nords…just to name a few are surrounding your husband right now.”

“Are you threatening his safety?”

“I’m giving you the facts. Two kids, a single income…it is going to be hard to manage. You might fall behind on the mortgage or get in credit card debt.”

“And what can you help me with?”

“I can help your husband.” Stahl tells her bluntly. “I can get him out this year and as a sign of good faith move him closer to home. Six hours is a long drive.”

Donna snorts. “You really need to work on your sales pitch.”

“We both know when Opie gets out he is going to go back to the club…back to arson…or back to prison if he even makes it out of this sentence.” Stahl tells her without any care. “If anything, think about the two kids who will be without a father. They are more important than that club.”

Donna stands up from the table. “I don’t know shit about Opie’s club business. And even if I did, I'd never rat on him. Get out of my house, bitch.”

Stahl gives her a grim smile and doesn’t need to be told twice. Her partner, Estevez follows her out the house. 

“Well that went well.” Estevez mutters. 

Stahl chuckles. “No, it went perfectly well. She is going to run to Alma Teller. Means we got her rattled or doubting. We just need a crack.”

.

.

.

To see Donna on her doorstep after weeks of silence and broken playdates with the kids has thrown Alma for a loop. Clearly the recent prison widow is struggling and Alma is glad to help. However, she can’t help but feel this isn’t just out of Donna’s own doing. Something pushed her to try to mend the broken bridges she had been trying to burn. 

Alma knows she won’t be vindictive and turn her away. Ellie is sleeping peacefully and Kenny is glad to be back to playing with Nathan and Kaylee. It leaves the two women some privacy in the kitchen.

Alma has her own cup of green tea in front of her while Donna has a glass of water. Alma stares intently at the brunette and wonders when they start to become strangers. 

“What happened?” Alma asks softly.  

Donna chews on her bottom lip as she picks at her fingernails. “A fed came by my house. Was trying to see if I knew anything about Opie’s business.”

Alma blows on her tea and nods her head. “Agent Stahl, I presume.”

“She said she could get Opie closer to home and out in a year.”

“They will say anything to get you to make a slip up Donna. That would only hurt Opie and your family.” Alma replies. 

Donna’s brows furrow. “Opie is in jail that is hurting my family. This club hurts my family.”

“You married into this, Donna. You knew going into this what could happen.”

Donna releases a bitter laugh. “So that excuses everything? I’m just supposed to accept that the father of my children is a convicted felon.”

The grip on her mug tightens. Alma knows she is treading on dangerous territory. She knows what she can say can push Donna in 20 different directions that can only hurt Opie. “If you talk to Stahl…you can get him killed, Donna.”

Alma watches as the blood leaves Donna’s face. Maybe, Alma shouldn’t have said that, but she also believes Opie should’ve had this talk with her. It would make a lot of things easier. 

“From who? The Mayans? Nords?” Donna hisses. 

Alma’s brows furrow and she assumes Stahl gave her those names. Alma thinks it is better for Donna to have that conclusion considering that Alma was talking about the club. Alma knew Jax would never let anything happen to Opie, but he was only one person. If Donna talked…

“From you. You coming here talking about giving a Fed information is gonna have him spun. He is going to be too focused about what is going to come out of your mouth than his safety in prison.” Alma tells her honestly. 

Donna releases a bitter laugh. “This can’t be happening. I came here for a friend and I feel like I am talking to Gemma.”

Alma takes a sip of her tea. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m not going to encourage you to rat.”

“Because your family is perfectly safe and fine right? Jax is still here. Who cares about Donna?”

“It isn’t even like that.” Alma snaps. “And the fact of the matter is one day I will probably be in your position or worse burying my fucking husband in an early grave. Don’t forget I grew up in this shit, Donna.  I lost my father to this life.”

“And look where you are! Married to the fucking Vice President of the outlaw motorcycle club!” Donna roars. “What does that say about you, huh?”

“What’s going on here?”

Both Donna and Alma jump at the sound of Jax’s voice. His eyes are going back and forth between Donna and Alma. Alma can see his concern and agitation because the last thing she needs is stress during this pregnancy. 

“Nothing,” Donna spats. “I was just leaving.” 

Jax raises his eyebrow at the venom in her tone. He doesn’t stop her from leaving as she picks up Ellie’s carrier and interrupts Kenny playing with the kids to leave. She doesn’t bother with a goodbye and even slams their door. 

Alma moves from the table with her tea and places it in the sink. She hears Jax moving behind her and his arms wrap around her. 

“Does the club need to be concerned?” He asks her softly. 

“Stahl rattled her.” Alma admits. “And I don’t know what is going on in her head.”

“Going after the women is a smart tactic especially ones that have the most to lose.” Jax mutters to her. 

She turns in his hold to peer into his blue eyes. “What is going on Jax? Don’t tell me it’s smoke because they wouldn’t wait until after Opie’s case and sentence to start digging into club business.”

Jax pulls back some as he looks over her and sighs. His hands come up and caress her face. “I don’t want you worrying about this shit.”

“Don’t use this pregnancy to keep me at length. Not telling me shit keeps me worried.”

“A port commissioner was killed. He was the enemy of the Irish.” He tells her and nothing else. 

“Jax…” Alma knows there is more to the story. He isn’t telling her everything and it burns. 

“Babe, if it becomes something trust me I will let you know before shit hits the fan. Just focus on the little one, yeah.” He tells her as he pulls her close and back into a tight hug. 

Alma only nods her head against his chest. 

.

.

It was a close one Jax can admit. Luckily, with Unser on the payroll, it had been easy to sneak into the police to relay word to Luann about the Feds plan. Unfortunately, it meant Otto getting more infractions against him as he gave Stahl a busted nose and black eye. He hasn’t yet told the club about Donna’s visit to Alma or even Opie about his wife’s doubts. He hopes now that he won’t need to. 

The club is in a good mood. It still hasn’t settled in that he is now Vice President of his father’s club. He has just gotten through his first, but many waves of heat the club will always get. He didn’t fuck it up and that is a plus. He smiles as he spots Alma at the bar. The new Prospect, Half Sack, is keeping her company. 

God, his wife is beautiful and he knows he is a lucky bastard. He glances over to the portrait of her father. Sometimes, he wonders how he would’ve handled knowing he had gotten her pregnant and married her. Jax knows for sure he would’ve gotten his ass handed to him. Though he hopes the man is at least comforted in the fact he is taking care of her. He knows he treats Alma thousand times better than her father ever treated Ana. 

Jax makes his way to his wife and wraps his arms around her. She laughs at the affection, but she melts into the hold. 

“Miss me, baby?” She questions. 

“All the damn time,” he admits as Half Sack slides a beer to him. 

Alma smiles as she sips her cranberry juice. He moves to her side and is practically hovering over her. She doesn’t seem to mind. “I think we should tell people.”

“Now?”

He nods his head. “You’re closer to four months now. If you weren’t wearing loose sweaters people would know by now anyways.”

Jax can see her hesitation. He watches as the gears turn in her head. He doesn’t like it. His fingers pinch her chin bringing her back to him as he places soft delicate kisses on her lips. “It’ll be okay.”

Alma relaxes in his hold and she nods her head. A small smile pulls at her full lips. He slams his beer back before he pulls his beer close. 

With his right hand he brings his fingers up to his mouth a whistle gathering everyone’s attention. 

“Listen up, I got something to tell y'all.” He shouts. All eyes are on him. Curious as they look between him and Alma. He smiles wide. “I got another kid on the way.”

The club roars and he gives Alma a deep kiss before his brothers tackle him with hard slaps on his back in form of congratulation. 

.

.

It was hard saying goodbye to their old house. Due to Alma’s heightened emotions, they didn’t sell the house, but decided to tackle being landlords. Alma just could not give up their former home. 

The new home was a massive upgrade that Jax didn’t really care about and showed off the perks from his lifestyle. The European inspired home was 6 bedrooms with a 4 car garage. An in-ground pool in the backyard. 

To welcome them into the home there were massive columns and arched windows over the front door. From the foyer it featured two circular staircases leading to the balcony that overlooked the Formal living room. 

The kitchen included a prep island, a walk-in pantry, and a 6-person eat-at peninsula bar. Leaving the kitchen it opened into the breakfast room and family room, which featured a curved wall of windows. It also included a fireplace and directly across from there they had a covered porch. 

Like the family, the master suite also had a curved wall of windows and Jax and Alma were treated to their own private covered porch. Their master bathroom had a corner glass shower, a whirlpool tub, and walk-in closets for him and her. 

The hallway from the foyer leads to the spacious game room, large home theater and guest room with private bath. 

The second floor of the house, which basically belonged to the kids, included 4 additional bedroom suites each with a private bath. 

It was a beautiful home. 

Jax smiles as he brings his arms around his wife and caresses her bump. Alma pregnant is his favorite site in the world. He presses a kiss to her cheek as she giggles. 

“It is so big, Jax.” She whispers as they watch the Prospect being ordered by Kaylee where boxes are going. 

“Nothing but the best for my family.”

Alma turns in his arms. Her bump pressed against his stomach. Her brown eyes are glowing. “I love you.”

“I hope so. Being married to you ain't cheap.”

Alma scoffs as she slaps him in the stomach. “It’s cheaper to keep me. You remember that.”

Jax smirks and he gives his wife an Eskimo kiss. “So no Kobe rings could ever help me out in the future.”

“Are you purposely trying to irritate your pregnant wife?”

“Maybe.” Jax quips as he presses a kiss to her lips. 

“You’re a jerk.” 

“I’ll give her a full body massage later, yeah.” 

“You promise?”

“Of course, darlin’.” He promises as the doorbell rings. “I’ll get that. You should be sitting somewhere. Direct from the couch.”

“I’m perfectly capable of standing,” he hears Alma mutter to his back. 

Jax doesn’t bother checking the windows to see who is at the door. He thinks it is probably his brothers wanting to see where their new place to freeload is. 

He swings the door open and his good mood is instantly soured by the presence of Agent Stahl. “Can I help you?”

Stahl opens her mouth, but she is interrupted by the sound of his kids laughing behind him and Kaylee saddles up to his leg. 

“Daddy! You missed it. Half Sack –“ She stops as she looks at the group of suits at their door. 

“What’s going on, Dad?” Nathan asks as he too looks at the people on his steps. 

Jax manages to keep a straight face as he picks up Kaylee and presses a kiss to her head before setting her back down next to Nathan. “Go to your mom.”

Nathan’s eyes widen at his words. “Dad –“

“Go now,” Jax orders. 

No one is prepared for Kaylee to scream for her mother making all of them jump. They are all frozen when Kaylee attempts to close the door on the agents. “You’re not taking my Daddy!” She screams before latching onto her father tightly. 

“Jax – “Stahl begins. 

“Don’t do this now,” he says between clenched teeth. 

“Is your wife home?” Stahl asks instead. 

Her question is answered as Alma appears confused. “What is going on?” Half Sack is behind her. 

“Mrs. Teller, you need to take your daughter.” Stahl says. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I really wouldn’t like to do this in front of your kids.”

“Sack, take her,” Jax orders. 

The Prospect comes over and with a tight grip pries Kaylee away from him. Jax forces himself not to watch as his daughter’s screams and cries echo throughout the house. 

He presses a kiss to Alma, who is standing in shock as realization dawns on her. “I love you. Call my mom.”

He hugs his son real quick. “You take care of your mom and your sister and the little one.” Nathan nods and holds him tightly before letting go. 

Jax walks away from his family. 

He stands in front of Stahl as an agent with cuffs walks behind him. 

“Jackson Teller, you're under arrest for the murder of Brenan Hefner. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.” Stahl says as she begins leading him to the unmarked car. 

He is silent as he walks to the car. He doesn’t resist as they push him in the backseat. 

He doesn’t want to look at his family as he is whisked away. But as the car pulls out of his driveway, he looks back as Nathan begins screaming for him. 

Alma stands behind their son who has turned in her arms. His tears staining her swollen belly. 

.

.

.

Sometimes, Alma hates the club. She hates the hierarchy it upholds. She hates that her husband is in jail. Right now, she thinks she may even hate Clay Morrow. It wasn’t as if she was a fragile newlywed. She had grown up in this shit. He was beating around the bush and not giving her a straight fucking answer on as to why her kids had to witness their father being arrested. 

“I know you’re upset –“

“I’m fucking pissed!” Alma snaps at her father in law. 

Clay purses his lips in displeasure as Gemma even keeps her lips shut as she massages his hands at their dining room table. 

Clay knows he is in a tricky spot. For one, he isn’t in the chapel and his status as President doesn’t matter right now. Right now he has his son’s wife demanding an answer because now club business is bleeding into family business. 

He isn’t about to open his mouth because he doesn’t know what Jax wants Alma to even know. At the same time, he doesn’t want to get taken out by some pregnant broad. He has dodged bullets from soldiers and rivals; his life isn’t coming to an end due to an angry pregnant woman. 

“Alma, jail time is always a risk for what we do.” He says slowly. He can see the steam rushing out of her ears. 

“Don’t be fucking patronizing. I want to know what the fuck he did.” Alma seethes. “I have that right.” She knows it is a murder charge, but she wants the details. 

“Alma, you need to calm down,” Gemma says, finally speaking up as she watched Alma cradle her stomach. “This isn’t good for the baby.”

Alma snorts. “That bitch arrested him in front of the kids.”

Alma doesn’t know why, but the tears just pour out of her eyes. She knows she couldn’t shelter her kids forever. She knew this day would come where her and Jax would need to explain their world. She just never wanted her kids to witness their father being taken away in handcuffs. 

Alma collapses in a chair as the tears don’t stop. Gemma moves up from the table to comfort her. They all think it is better for Alma to break down now than later. She can do it now and leave the house strong for her family. 

“We’ll figure this out,” Clay promises over the tears. 

.

.

.

Clay is annoyed and pissed. That ATF bitch is blocking all attempts of making contact with Jax. The only thing they know is that he is being charged for the hit they did for the Irish. He is more concerned how in the hell there was a witness. He looks at Tig and Bobby, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. 

“How’s Alma?” Bobby asks. 

Clay leans back into his chair and sighs. “Pissed once she was able to read over the charges fully and the penalties. I thought you guys said it was clear?” He asks with more bite than he intends. 

“It was, Clay,” Tig assures. “Easiest hit ever. Besides, Bobby and I were there. Wouldn’t they arrest us too?” 

Clay sighs. He doesn’t know what game that ATF gash is playing. 

“I don’t think it needs to be said, Jax ain’t gonna rat…so how in the hell are we gonna get him protection?” Bobby says speaking up. 

Clay runs a hand through his hair. The last thing he wants is to ask the Nords for more help. “What we need to do is find the rat.” Clay tells them. 

“Serious allegation, Clay,” Bobby cautions. 

“No shit, but how in the hell do you explain someone identifying Jax as the shooter?”

Both men turn silent. 

“Something ain’t right about this.” Clay mutters. 

.

.

“You need to calm down,” Gemma orders as she watches Alma pace in the kitchen of the unpacked home. Boxes are still closed and Gemma guesses Jax’s recent arrest has made her neglect certain things. 

Most importantly, Gemma is just worried about the health of her unborn grandchild. 

“I fucking can’t.” Alma tells her. “We just bought this house. I don’t work. How in the fuck am I going to support three kids on no salary?”

Gemma frowns. “You know that you don’t need to worry about that.”

“That is not the point.” Alma stresses. Alma wants to scream in frustration at being in this situation. She knows after this baby comes she is going to make some major changes in her life.

Gemma purses her lips together. She wants to snap and tell Alma that she needs to get her shit together. It is just a stark contrast to how Alma is usually calm and reserved. It makes Gemma wonder how much Alma buries or this is literally pregnancy emotions that can’t let her even allow to comprehend one emotion to latch onto.  

“How about we take things week by week, or better yet focus on that baby in your belly. Let the club worry about Jax.” Gemma advises. 

Alma takes a calming breath as she places a hand on her prominent belly. It’s a tense and uncomfortable silence that Gemma isn’t used to being on the receiving end of. Gemma almost jumps when fat tears escape Alma’s eyes. She watches as the tears splash against the woman’s cheeks and stain against her shirt. 

Gemma doesn’t exactly know what is stopping her from consoling her daughter in law. She is almost embarrassed when Nathan comes in and sees the state of his mother. 

Nathan rushes over to his mother. “Mom, what’s wrong?” He asks as his arms wrap around her as much as they can. “It’s going to be okay, Mom.” Nathan whispers. 

Alma opens her arms and embraces her oldest child. 

Alma’s eyes meet Gemma’s. The tears stop coming. 

.

.

The only good part about being locked up in Federal custody is that he isn’t in the general population. He is isolated and the food isn’t’ that shitty. He doesn’t need to try and make friends, which could mess up his standing and getting a deal. So he is not complaining or making a fuss too much and the last thing he wants is to give Alma added stress. 

And after two days of nothing, the agents were finally dragging him to the visitation room. He sits quietly before Stahl comes through the door with her manila envelope. 

She doesn’t bother with a greeting as she takes a sit opposite him. “You killed a state official, Jax. The U.S. Attorney will seek the death penalty.”

“I didn't kill anybody.” Jax tells her.  “And if you have anything else to say, why don't you talk to my lawyer?”

Stahl smirks. “Well, if my witness statement is a lie... then maybe you should hear all of it, hmm?”

Jax smiles. “Yeah, I like a good story.”

Stahl leans back in her chair as she opens her folder.  “Hefner got spooked by seeing Bobby. He turned back to you. You jammed your gun in his sternum and fired four shots. Hefner fell. You and Bobby fled the balcony... and met up downstairs with Alexander Trager.”

“Great fiction.”  Jax replies. Although in his mind, the wheels are turning. He knows Bobby and Tig would never rat, so someone had to be tailing them to know that.  

“Eyewitness fiction.” Stahl counters. “If you confess now, the attorney might go lenient. Maybe get you a better deal to maybe see your unborn child get married at least. Do you know what you’re having?”

Jax clenches his jaw. “Are we done here?”

“Is there anything you would like me to tell your family? I know that she is due soon.”

Jax doesn’t bother with a reply. 

“I would think about your family Jax. You’re going to be doing years. I can’t imagine a child only knowing their father in prison clothes.”

.

.

Clay can feel the other parents glaring at him, but he doesn’t fucking care. With Jax being in jail, Gemma handling the garage and family business, and Alma running errands to deal with Jax's future sentence, Clay is on babysitting duty. 

He is not really complaining. He loves being around his grandchildren. He loves every minute being with them. Though now, the reason parents are glaring at him, outside of him smoking his Cuban cigars, were the visitors he was getting at the playground. 

Usually Clay does his best to separate his business from family life. He knows Alma will have his ass on a sling if he finds out he was handling business at a wooden picnic table. However, with Jax locked up, business needed to be handled and he needed to figure out how to make sure his son can come home on a reasonable time frame. 

Clay looks over his shoulder to find his grandchildren causing havoc on the slides. He smiles before he almost drops his cigar at the site of Rosen. Usually, Lowen, Rosen’s associate, would get her fancy pumps dirty to deliver messages. 

He knows it must be serious and for a minute he is scared shitless he is about to deliver the worst. 

“Clay,” Rosen greets as he reaches the table. 

“Is it Jax?” Clay asks. 

“Surprisingly, no,” Rosen says as he sits opposite of him. “I got a message from Opie.”

Clay’s eyebrows skyrocket. 

“I should say Lenny’s lawyer reached out to me with a message from Opie.” Rosen clarifies. 

Clay doesn’t even want to know how in the hell Opie managed to get a message to Lenny, who is in Stockton, from Chino. 

“And how much are you charging me to deliver this message?” Clay quips. 

Rosen doesn’t banter as he looks at Clay in the eyes. “Opie says the Feds have gone to see him. A few times and even with the added threat to tack on more to his sentence.”

“Why?”

“Apparently someone is talking to the Feds. Gave a detailed list to the Feds of a bunch of alleged crimes Opie and Jax partook in. I mean it’s a lot of shit that goes back to their prospect years.”

What the fuck.

“Is it just Opie and Jax?” Clay asks. 

“He said there is some other shit that is more broad, but specifics are mostly him and Jax.” Rosen tells him. “Now before you say anything damning, I’m gonna go. We never had this conversation.”

Clay seethes as he watches Rosen walk away. Of all the things he expected to hear. There is a goddamn rat at the table. And he knows who the fuck it is. The goddamn fucking rat. 

“Fucking Kyle…” Tig mutters. 

“You put a goddamn tail on him.” Clay seethes quietly. “Call Happy down here. Download him. Figure what Kyle’s been up to.”

“On it boss.” Tig says as he pulls out his phone and walks away. 

Clay regrets that he didn’t see this coming. He failed as the President by not realizing the potential fallout of patching out Kyle. 

“Grandpa! Push me on the swings, please!” Kaylee yells out. 

Clay looks at his granddaughter. Her smile is a carbon copy of Jax’s. 

Kyle won’t be shown any type of mercy.

.

.

.

Alma finds it hard to sleep at night. It’s not that she isn’t tired. She is and the baby is sucking the life out of her. It is just that her mind won’t stop. Her thoughts won’t let her rest. It’s not like she can exactly go to a therapist to talk about the shit she lives through. 

But she knows she can’t go on for long like this. She does need to think about her children. She believes if she wasn’t pregnant her emotions wouldn’t be as severe. She would be able to pull back and let things simmer. She would be able to wade through the water before finding a crystal clear path. 

Besides, the last thing she needs is for Jax to be worrying about her. She needs to get it together. Nathan shouldn’t have seen her crying like that. She feels awful that he had to comfort her. She should have shed her tears alone in her bedroom where the cold is prominent on Jax’s side of the bed. 

“Mommy?”

Alma turns from where she is sitting at her vanity. She finds Kaylee standing behind the door in her purple pajamas. 

Alma smiles. “And what are you doing out of bed?”

Kaylee smiles sheepishly as she walks further into the room. Alma’s heart breaks a little to think that her baby is about to be five years old. It seems only yesterday she gave birth to her little girl. She was still changing her diapers. Now, she will be starting school. 

“I couldn’t sleep, Mommy,” Kaylee replies. Kaylee stands in front of her mother. Her attention focused solely on the cosmetics and beauty items laid out. 

“Couldn’t sleep? And why is that?” Alma questions. 

Kaylee gives her a mischievous smile. A smile that she knows that she inherited from Jax, Alma has seen that smile many times. 

“You’re very pretty, Mommy.” Kaylee says with a blush. “I want to be pretty like you.”

“You’ll be prettier than me when you’re older.” Alma says as Kaylee plays with the brushes on the counter. 

“Daddy says you are the most beautiful girl alive.” Kaylee tells her. 

“Did he?” Alma asks. She is at least grateful Jax’s absence hasn’t affected Kaylee’s love and fond reminiscents of Jax.

Kaylee smiles. “Can I brush your hair, Mommy?”

“Of course. Let’s move to the bed so you can reach me alright.”

Kaylee beams and hastily gets on the bed. Alma moves to the edge and her little girl is eager to start brushing. 

“Your hair is getting so long.” Kaylee says as she runs the brush through her long dark locks. 

“Do you think I should cut it?” 

“We both can get haircuts!” Kaylee decides. 

Alma laughs. “We’ll see after the baby is born.”

Kaylee brushes for a few more moments and then stops as she settles next to her mother. Her small hand is timid as she reaches out and places her palm against her protruding stomach. 

“I’m sad.” Kaylee announces. 

Alma frowns as she wraps her arms around her daughter. “Why are you sad, Baby?”

“Because you’re sad that Daddy isn’t here.”

“Kaylee,” Alma says shakenly. Alma isn’t even sure how to respond to that. 

“Do you think the baby will be sad?”

This Alma can answer. “No, the baby will be happy. They will have you and Nathan as a big brother and sister. They’ll be happy. And…Daddy will come home one day.”

“You promise?” Kaylee asks her with wide brown eyes. Alma’s heart almost breaks as she is reminded of a similar conversation she had with her own mother when her father went to prison. Her father never came home. 

“How bout you sleep with Mommy tonight. I’ll feel better when I wake up in the morning.”

.

.

It’s been a weird few days. Clay has been quiet on what’s going on with Jax. Alma doesn’t focus on it. Her main focus needs to be on her kids and she is just lucky her mom hasn’t gone on a soapbox about her situation. 

Besides, she promised the kids a camping trip in the backyard. She is sort of looking forward to it herself as she fills her cart up with marshmallows and chocolate. She wonders if she can borrow the Prospect to help. If anything it might be a vacation for him. 

She is leaving the aisle when her cart almost hits someone. 

“Sorry.” Alma says apologizing. 

“It’s alright, Mrs. Teller.”

Alma freezes at the sight of Stahl. “Agent Stahl, I would say it’s been nice to see you.”

Stahl presses her lips in a flat line. “Considering I am feeling generous, I would pick up tomorrow’s paper.”

“I think I would rather not.”

Stahl licks her lips. “I mean you had to see this coming? This life you lead and if your husband would talk he might get to see his youngest graduate from high school.”

“Screw you.”

“Any bit of cooperation can help your husband.”

Alma laughs bitterly. “If anything the very least you can let me talk to my husband.”

Alma walks away from Stahl and goes to check out, but the skinny agent follows her. “You know I get it.”

“Get what?”

“The struggle you must feel. Wanting to give your kids a good life and raise your kids with their father. But it’s a fine line though right. You’re about to be on the verge of repeating the cycle. After all, your father never came home from prison.”

Alma whips around to look at Stahl. She almost can’t believe the words that escaped the agent's mouth. 

Alma opens her mouth, but a pained gasp escapes her lips. 

“Mrs. Teller, you okay?”

Alma feels her lower body tighten. She looks down between her legs and finds blood spreading. 

.

.

Jax had been doing his daily workout routine when the guards had come to his cell. Usually they make some smart aleck remark and  there would be some light hearted banter. Today, there was none of that. The men were quiet as they escorted him to the small visitation room. As he sat and waited for Stahl, he wondered what bullshit she was going to sprout on him. 

He thought she would be up his ass the whole time during his stay, but she surprisingly left him alone. 

He is waiting for a couple minutes before Stahl presents herself and he doesn’t miss that the camera is turned off. She doesn’t greet him. She walks stiffly to her seat. She has no papers. Nothing. She just sits and stares blankly at him. 

“You got something you wanna say?” He asks, breaking the silence.

Stahl looks at him blankly. Jax feels he isn’t going to like what is going to come out of her mouth. That is the usual feeling with her, but this time something is extremely off. Something is wrong. 

She clears her throat. “I wanted to give you this news in person.”

Jax leans back in his chair. “Well, that doesn't sound good.”

Stahl chews on her bottom lip before she sits up straighter and looks him in the eyes. She folds her hands across the table top. “Your wife, Alma, she’s in the hospital.”

Jax’s spine stiffens. “What are you talkin' about?”

“She had a miscarriage. I can’t tell you what exactly went wrong, but it was a close call for her. She lost a lot of blood.”

Jax doesn’t say anything as he looks up at the ceiling. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “You make it sound like you were there.”

“I was the one to call the ambulance. She was at the store when it happened.” Stahl reveals to him. “There was a witness who fingered you. We also got some corroborating statements from Kyle Hobart about past crimes.”

“Why are you tellin' me this?”

“We'll be charging you with Hefner's murder. U.S. Attorney will seek the death penalty. I guess I'm feeling guilty about the pain your wife and children will go through.” 

Jax shakes his head. “I’m surprised you feel anything.”

Stahl stands up. “He was a boy, by the way. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Stahl leaves the visiting room. Jax doesn’t even wait to be taken back to his room as he breaks down in tears. 

[imdoingthismspaintadventure]

Worm 2.09 (part 2) - In which they seem like good people

Sorry, I had been gone for a while.

Let’s continue then!

I nodded, absorbing the information.  It sounded very underwhelming to me, but I was willing to admit I could be underestimating it.

We were discussing Alec’s power last time, and how it sounded silly but it could be really OP in the right hands

“Well,” I said, after a long pause, “I think I pretty much get what everyone can do, then.  Correct me if I’m wrong, but Bitch can turn those dogs into those freakish monsters I saw the other night?”

Sitting a few feet away, Bitch muttered, “They aren’t freakish.”

I think Bitch’s power is the most obvious of the group, so it’s normal it hadn’t been discussed yet.

Lisa answered my question, ignoring her. “Rachel can do it with any dog, actually,” she said, stressing the name, “And no codenames when we’re not in costume, ‘kay?  Get in the habit of using the right name at the right times, and it’s that much harder to slip.”

It was hard to think of Rachel by her real name.  Bitch seemed really fitting given the stunt she had pulled.  I apologized to Lisa, “Sorry.”

Yeah slip-ups concerning secret identities and the like could be baaad

Pfft, I love these little inside-comments Taylor makes, like the bitch thing.

Lisa gave a small nod in response, then told me, “She can use her power on any dog, but only Brutus, Judas and Angelica are trained well enough that they’ll listen to her when they’re pumped up.”

Oh so her power juices up the dogs, but doesn’t make them submit to her control like Taylor’s power does with her bugs. She has to actually train them

Makes sense, as Bitch seems to care for her dogs quite a bit (”They aren’t freakish...”) while Taylor really only uses her bugs as a means to an end, and even feeds some to others.

I really like when the nature of the superpower fits the kind of person that it belongs to, and can be used to explore their personality further.

Ah, so that was it.  “And Brian makes that oily darkness that screws up your hearing.  The Parahumans wiki said it was darkness generation.”

Brian smiled, “I put that into the wiki myself.  It’s not wrong, but it does catch people off guard when they think they know what you can do, and there’s something more to it.”

That is something people would do if superpowers were real, no doubt! Editing the wiki about their own powers, either to bring attention to themselves or to obfuscate the truth. Very nice detail to add.

Lisa added, “It’s not just hearing.  It also cuts off radio signals and dampens the effects of radiation.”

“That’s what her power tells her, anyways.  I haven’t had much chance to test that part of things.  I get by as is,” Brian said.  He turned his hand palm up and created a handful of the darkness.  It was like smoke, but so absolutely black that there was no texture to it.  It was like someone had taken a scalpel to reality and the blackness was what was there when everything else was gone.  I couldn’t even gauge the dimensions of it, unless I looked at it from a different perspective.   Even then, with the way the darkness shifted and billowed like smoke, it was hard to judge the shape.

Brian’s darkness nullifies or weakens wavelengths and senses! That’s amazing! I can see how it could be really really useful.

I love the description of the darkness. It’s absolutely pitch-black, like when you were staring at something bright and then turn all lights out. That darkness so all-consuming you can’t make out dimensions or distances inside of it. Only in this case contained within a single place on his hand.

It remains me of the nothing from The Neverending Story, in that they both feel inherently wrong.

The Nothing was way more unsettling and indescribable though. Especially in the book.

More of it just kept pouring from his hand, climbing upwards to cover the top of the room.  As the light from the windows near the upper edges of the room and the florescent bars on the ceiling was cut off, the room got a great deal darker.

He closed his hand into a fist, and the darkness thinned out and disintegrated into strands and tatters, and the room brightened again.  I looked at the light coming in from the windows and was surprised it wasn’t later.

It can expand and cover the whole room just like that?

Imagine going up against these guys and you suddently get surrounded by this type of dark abyss and completely lose your bearings. That sounds scary as fuck.

“What time is it?”  I asked.

“Nineteen minutes before five,” Lisa said.  She didn’t look at a watch or a clock as she said it, which was unsettling.  It was a reminder that her power was constantly available to her.

Lisa’s power is still by far the most dangerous, with the tactical advantage she represents in any battle. She’s also the most fundamental threat to Taylor’s little undercover plan, easily.

Brian asked me, “Do you have somewhere you need to be?

“Home, I guess,” I admitted, “My dad will wonder where I am.”

I bet Danny could never imagine in a million years the type of situation you are in.

“Call him,” Lisa suggested, “Now that the introductions are over with, you can just hang out for a bit, if you want.”

“We could order pizza,” Alec suggested.  Then when Lisa, Brian and Bitch all made faces, he added, “Or maybe everyone’s sick of pizza and we could order something else.”

“Stick around?” Brian made it a question.

Alec really is the most chill out of all of them.

This all feels so normal, hard to believe we were having a fight just moments ago.

I glanced at Bitch.  She was sitting on the table behind one of the couches and looking like a mess, with a bloody bandage over one ear, blood smeared below her nose and lip, and a bit of green around the gills that suggested she was feeling a little worse for wear.  With her in that state, I didn’t feel particularly threatened.  Staying meant I could work to get things more copacetic and maybe dig for a bit more information.  I’d also missed socializing with people – even if it was under false pretenses with a group that included an apparent sociopath. It had been a sucky day.  Just chilling out sounded good.

Damn Taylor really fucked her up! Maybe even Rachel respects her more now, with that warped view of things she seems to have. Or maybe she is more pissed off, hard to tell, don’t know her enough yet.

Taylor’s clearly looking to socialize with them, but I like her attempt to justify it to herself as part of her undercover mission. Oh boy you’re totally going to end up becoming a member for real

“Okay,” I decided, “Yeah, I think I’d like to.”

“Phone’s in the kitchen if you want to call your dad,” Lisa said.

I looked over my shoulder as I headed across the loft.  The others got settled on the couches, with Alec turning on the TV while Lisa and Brian took a second to clean up.

I found the phone and dialed my dad.

“Hey dad,” I said, when I heard the phone being picked up.

This has the potential to be awkward, painful, sad or any of the three

“Taylor.  Are you alright?”  He sounded worried.  It was unusual, I supposed, my not being home when he got back from work.

“I’m fine, dad.  Is it cool if I hang out with some people tonight?”

There was a pause.

Yeah that’s not normal for her

As an introvert, I imagine it would be jarring if my parents heard I’d be staying for dinner at a stranger’s house unnanounced.

“Taylor, if there’s anyone that’s making you make this call… the bullies or someone else, tell me everything is fine.  If you’re not in trouble, tell me your mother’s full name.”

Oh that is really smart and really great on Danny’s part. You’re a good dad, Danny.

I felt momentarily embarrassed.  Was it so unusual for me to hang out with people?  I knew my dad was just trying to keep me safe, but it was bordering on the ridiculous.

I feel like in a world with supervillains people would be more paranoid in general about these things.

“Annette Rose Hebert,” I told him, “Really dad, it’s cool.”

“You’re really okay?”

My gaze roved over the kitchen, taking in the details, as I gave him my assurances.

“Better than ever.  I kind of made some friends,” I said.

Well that’s kinda true I guess...

My eyes settled on their dining room table.  There was a stack of money, wrapped with a paper band just as the money in the lunchbox had been. Beside the money, plain as day, was the dark gray metal of a handgun.

....Fuck

Well that’s a really effective visual to drive home the reality of the situation she’s in and of the people she’s hanging out with...

My attention caught by the gun, I only barely caught my dad’s question.  “What are they like?”

“They seem like good people,” I lied.

....

That’s such a good ending line. It gave me chills.

What kind of hole are you digging for yourself here with this?

...

Well, I’m hooked.

[nerianasims]

Billboard #1s 1981

Under the cut.

Blondie -- "The Tide Is High" - January 31, 1981

I have problems trying to figure out what to say about Blondie. This song is reggae-ish, as it's a cover of a 1967 rocksteady song. The song itself is really good, and Blondie do interesting things with it without changing it much or being disrespectful. Of course, it has a lot more icy determination and a lot less vulnerability than the original, because Debbie Harry. It's enjoyable, but now that I've heard the original, I prefer that one. Nothing against Debbie Harry, but I usually prefer more warmth in music, especially when it comes to love songs.

Kool & The Gang -- "Celebration" -- February 7, 1981

I've heard this song way too much, and it's not a song that particularly rewards hundreds of listens. It's a good party song and all, but I'm never going to listen to it again if I have a choice.

Dolly Parton -- "Nine to Five" -- February 21, 1981

Having a steady 9 to 5 job that makes you a living sounds like a dream in the gig economy. But it did suck. They had no idea how much worse things would get, though. It's still a rich man's game, and you spend your life putting money in his wallet. As it's been since Babylon at least. This is a really good song, and the music is upbeat, and Dolly Parton is a world treasure, but my current 2020 mood means it depresses me too.

Eddie Rabbitt -- "I Love A Rainy Night" -- February 28, 1981

I'm trying to remember all the songs about rain I can. There's "Here Comes the Rain Again", "Purple Rain", "November Rain", "It's Raining Men", "Have You Ever Seen the Rain", "Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head", "Rainy Days and Mondays", "Set Fire to the Rain" -- they're always about something else. Rain sets the stage, or it's a metaphor. This song is more like "Laughter in the Rain," which is simply about enjoying walking in the rain with someone you love and nothing more. But this is even less than that. He loves a rainy night. That's it and all and entire. And he is going to tell you he loves a rainy night 24 times. I counted. There's no musical variation either. That's the bulk of the song. Other than that, he loves lightning and thunder. It's no wonder I'd never heard this song before, because it is deadly dull.

REO Speedwagon -- "Keep On Loving You" -- March 21, 1981

It was the thing to denigrate 80s power ballads when I was a teenager because we'd had more than enough of them as children, thank you very much. We'd had more than enough of the 80s generally (they sucked, actually, no matter what those day-glo colors tell you. Reagan was an atrocity.) But power ballads didn't deserve the ire, and so they've been embraced again. This is one of the classics. It's about the narrator -- and the singer Kevin Cronan, in reality -- forgiving his wife for cheating on him. I didn't know that until now, because I never really listened to the song. It's far from my favorite power ballad, as how hard Kevin Cronan hits the consonants bugs me. Yeah, I'm from Michigan, I say "r"s like a pirate too, but not to that extreme.

Blondie -- "Rapture" -- March 28, 1981

Debbie Harry sort of raps on this. I dunno, I'm too distracted by the lyrics. The singing part makes sense, as it's about dancing causing rapture. But then the rap (?) part starts. "And you drive all night and then you see a light/ And it comes right down and lands on the ground/ And out comes a man from Mars/ And you try to run but he's got a gun/ And he shoots you dead and he eats your head/ And then you're in the man from Mars/ You go out at night, eatin' cars." It goes on like that. They're some of the weirdest lyrics I've ever seen, and I was a teenager in the Beck "Loser" era. They're probably supposed to just be weird, but... what? That's my opinion on this song.

Daryl Hall and John Oates -- "Kiss On My List" -- April 11, 1981

This is another 80s song I've heard a ton but never really listened to the lyrics. It is a love song, but I'm not quite sure what the narrator's getting at. "If you want to know/ What the reason is I'll only smile when I lie/ Then I'll tell you why." He says it's because your kiss is on his list, and he misses it when he turns out the light. He also seems to be hiding you from his friends. Is he cheating with you? Or maybe he's not with you but wants to be? I don't know, and I'm putting too much thought into what's really a slight but enjoyable pop song.

Sheena Easton -- "Morning Train (Nine to Five)" -- May 2, 1981

What a boring, repetitive beat. This is the opposite of Dolly Parton's "Nine to Five." The narrator in this one stays home while her husband goes to work on the morning train. The whole day, all she does is sit around thinking about him. Nothing else at all. I've nothing against one partner staying at home while the other goes out to work -- I'd be a hypocrite if so, because that's what I do. But I do have something against pretending any woman's brain is so utterly empty that literally all she can think about is her husband. She's not even trying to make a nice home or anything. She apparently just sits around obsessing over her husband. Maybe they've been married for two days, but even so. Also Sheena Easton doesn't hit the high notes she goes for, so that was an unpleasant nails on a chalkboard surprise. Terrible song.

Kim Carnes -- "Bette Davis Eyes" -- May 16, 1981

I love Bette Davis. I do not like this song. In fact, I hate this song. It's Kim Carnes' voice. She sounds like she's been smoking 3 cigars a day for 40 years. Worse, the way she chooses to sing is completely off the rails. She sounds like a cartoon character. I like Jackie DeShannon's original. I can't stand this version.

Stars on 45 -- "Stars on 45" -- June 20, 1981

Baby Boomer nostalgia is the most powerful force in the universe. Which doesn't mean all, or most, baby boomers are drowning in nostalgia, but the ones who are (like my father) are sure a profitable demographic. This "song" is a medley of a bunch of hits to make them go "I recognized it so I clapped." Incredibly bad.

Air Supply -- "The One That You Love" -- July 25, 1981

It's an almost power ballad song that sounds vaguely Broadway-ish, or would if Russell Hitchcock were a good singer. He's about as good a singer as me, except with a weaker voice. That is not good. He doesn't give me a headache or anything, and he does manage to hit the notes right (barely) and to put emotion into his voice, but the guys who sang the leads in our musicals in high school were better. Anyway, he's trying to get his lover not to break up with him, insisting over and over that he's "the one that you love." The lyrics aren't exactly great, but they're not horrible either. But this guy does not have a strong enough voice for power ballads. Yet again, I am wondering what Barry Manilow would have done with this.

Rick Springfield -- "Jessie's Girl" -- August 1, 1981

I remember people going kinda nuts for "Jessie's Girl" some years back, and being like... really? It's fine, but nothing special. He can't even seem to remember the name of the girl he wants. I dunno, whatever, I have no real problems with it, and it does have a nice beat, but it comes and goes without making an impression on me.

Diana Ross & Lionel Richie -- "Endless Love" -- August 15, 1981

Drowning in glop, send help.

Christopher Cross -- "Arthur's Theme (Best That You Can Do)" -- October 17, 1981

The movie Arthur is rom-com about a man who was born rich, has never grown up, has never faced any consequences, and treats women like garbage. Fuck aaaalllll the way off. We have reason to be particularly intolerant of this stuff nowadays, and we never should have tolerated it. Romance novelists are smart enough to give their rich heroes some trauma in their pasts, and nowadays the heroes rarely treat women badly either (Christian Grey being an exception. And even he at least has a tortured soul.) The song basically lays out the main character's personality, or lack thereof. There is the neat line, "When you get caught between the moon and New York City." And I woke up with that line -- and nothing else from the song -- in my head, so I can understand why it became a hit. But if I want a movie about the moon and New York City, I'll take Moonstruck.

Daryl Hall & John Oates -- "Private Eyes" -- November 7, 1981

This sounds like Scientology's theme song. Except the "private eyes" are metaphorical. He means he can tell you're hurting even when you try to hide it. "Why you try to put up a front for me/ I'm a spy but on your side, you see." Still, boundaries dude. It's musically fun enough, but the lyrics... eh...

Olivia Newton-John -- "Physical" -- November 21, 1981

This is an aerobics song. Technically it's supposed to be about sex, but Newton-John's in aerobics gear on the single cover, the music video is at a gym, and the beat is for exercising to. Not even dancing. It's not seductive in the slightest. Aerobics in the 80s led to a lot of hip replacements in the 00s. As a song, all I hear is background music for a workout, so... yeah, not interested.

BEST OF 1981 -- "Nine to Five" by Dolly Parton. WORST OF 1981 -- "Stars on 45" by Stars on 45

[synoxshots]

What is left behind

Angsty, melodramatic vignettes of Ticcer’s life, from the Sacking of Coruscant to revenge on Skavak. 

Oneshot so all under the cut below. Crossposted to ao3 if you prefer.

Warnings for death and grief, perhaps some mild PTSD.

2054 words.

14.

Days tend to all start the same. Wake up, get out of bed. No indication something will change your life forever.

He was with friends when it all started. Sharing jokes, trading silly insults, the usual things a teenager gets up to. His sister Kyria wasn't far away, sharing a packet of sweets with another girl and giggling at passers by. It could have been any day.

When they heard the first rumble, they didn't give it a second thought.

Coruscant was noisy by nature, a city planet that never truly slept. Time was arbitrary anyway when you were too low down to see the sun. Whether it was coming from above or below, or on the same level, there would always be some sort of commotion going on. Learning not to take notice was key to living there.

The second rumble, and the booms and bangs that followed, they were harder to ignore.

The ground shook more than he'd ever known it before, knocking him down onto his hands and knees. Buildings started to crumble around him, city streets turning into piles of rubble in a matter of seconds. The stench of something burning caught his throat, the smoke and dust choking his attempts to breathe.

As he tried to stand, he focused on one thing. Kyria.

He could hear screams, but he couldn't tell whose they were. They could have been his own, for all he knew. He scrambled forwards, stumbling towards where he'd seen her last.

Chunks of buildings fell from above. A scrap of rubble made contact with the side of his face. He barely felt it. Amazing what a singular determination to save a person you loved could do for you.

He never knew how they survived that day when so many others didn't. Even their parents hadn't, crushed as their shop was reduced to ruins. There was no home to return to either, nothing more than a heap of bricks.

Everything was different now. All they had was each other.

The Republic did their best in those first days after. Food and shelter for the displaced, promises to rebuild. Some senators even made it down to their level to help out, meet those affected.

But the time between those visits grew longer. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months and years. Gradually they'd been forgotten. The senators went back to focusing on themselves, forgetting the population were on their knees.

All they could do was fend for themselves. Find some way, any way, to survive.

And one day, he'd make the Empire pay for what they took from him.

* * * * * * * *

17.

He'd never wanted Kyria to get caught up in this. There were sacrifices that he'd needed to make, going from a cheeky teenager to an adult in the course of a morning, but Kyria deserved to hold onto whatever childhood he could give her.

She didn't see it like that of course. She was too smart for her own good, much cleverer than him and just as determined. She was the one that was supposed to make something of herself, and her future had been snatched away in a single morning. When she looked at him with those big, innocent, pleading eyes, how could he say no to her?

She was the same age now as he'd been when this had all started, after all. Something she liked to remind him. At some point he had to let her do things on her own.

But she always had such an appetite for risk. They were just like each other that way. Maybe she'd even picked it up from him.

He should have protested more when she said where she was going. Should have been with her from the start. Should have stopped her from going at all. Too many should haves, might have beens.

He couldn't have stopped his parents dying, but he could have saved her.

When he arrived it was all too late. The gangs were warring again, and somehow she'd been caught between them. Left as a body on the ground that neither side cared to stop for. But he couldn't see anything else, hear anything in the world around him. He clutched at her failing body, shaking, never wanting to let go.

She had enough strength to put her hand on his face one last time.

“Ledri...”

It was the last time anyone used that name.

He remembered arriving at the hospital, carrying her body in his arms. He couldn't remember how he made it there. It didn't matter anyway. Nothing mattered now. He had nothing left.

* * * * * * * *

19.

Survival was the priority. Looking after one's self. Caring for others had only ended up with him getting hurt. Best to look inwards, be your own number one.

Nobody to hold him back either. He'd gotten more ambitious as time had gone by. The risk was higher, but so were the rewards.

And when it had gone wrong, prison had only taught him how far he could push the line. It was supposed to be a deterrent; it had actually been more of a learning experience.

He could spot spacers from a mile away. Cloudheads, they'd always called them down on the lower levels. People who'd gotten too much air to their brains, made their heads go all funny. Perfect targets for a con or a bit of light theft.

This guy was clearly one. Fancy clothes: some swishy cape that flowed behind him effortlessly, boots that were far too clean to have seen hard work. Not a single hair out of place, facial hair trimmed to perfection. Obviously lived a life of luxury, probably not a clue about the real world. An easy target.

Or maybe not such an easy target after all. He'd always considered himself a master of the con, but this one had unravelled. Badly.

He hadn't wanted to kill him, it was just a matter of self defence.

It was the first time he'd killed anyone. He might have caused serious injuries before, but it had never gotten this far.

The world was spinning faster than it normally did. Had his heart always been so loud?

He rifled through the man's pockets, not really knowing what he was looking for. Credit chips mostly, money to survive a few more months.

Probably not a datapad with codes to a ship. But he couldn't turn that down.

He'd always wanted his ticket off this planet, he'd just never envisaged the day actually coming.

When he saw the sky, it was the first time he'd stopped running all day. He couldn't have moved his feet even for all his will. The air felt different: cooler, lighter. He'd never realised how dense it had always been. Colours he never knew existed, even his own green skin looked different in the sunlight. Everything seemed so clean, not mired in decades of muck and pollution. It may as well have been a different planet.

Maybe he couldn't blame cloudheads for being like they were if this was the world they knew.

But no amount of awe would make him belong.

The sky, those beautiful stars that filled it, they would be his home now.

He’d forgotten what having a home had felt like.

* * * * * * * *

24.

Smuggling had started as a great adventure, an opportunity he'd fallen into by chance. What his old boss had called his 'happy accident' when he turned up with that spacer's ship full of guns.

It wasn't some spacer's ship now. It was his.

The first big thing he could say he owned. The first home he'd truly known in years.

Living in a dead man's ship had been odd at first, but it turned out that sort of thing was commonplace in this new world he'd found. Finders keepers, that was the rule.

He rechristened her the Firebird, people started calling him Captain. It suited him. She became as much a part of his identity as anything else.

Not just a ship. She was home.  

It burned him badly when Skavak ran off with her. Wastoid didn't know what he'd taken from him. Nobody seemed to fully understand.

Without her, he was just that kid on Coruscant again, struggling for scraps and a place to sleep.

He'd told himself he didn't have to be that person any more.

He was going to kill that son of a bantha for ever making him feel like that again.

* * * * * * * *

24.

He didn't really know how he'd ended up with a crew of his own.

Corso tagged along after Ord Mantell. Skavak had wronged him too, betrayed his trust and run off with his best gun. He didn't really understand how someone could be so attached to a gun, but each to their own.

Kid was a bit too keen for his tastes, too much enthusiasm and faith in the Republic, wanting to be the good guy.

Almost like he had been when he was younger. Before all the hope got kicked out of him. There were only a couple of years between them, but sometimes it felt like decades.

But he was a good kid at least. Wouldn't double cross him. Appreciated the Firebird when they got her back. Hated Skavak. The key things for a first mate.

Risha turned up on Coruscant, not that he had any choice in the matter. He didn't know if he trusted her, but something about her kept drawing him back.

She was promising to make him rich too, which was a big plus point.

And she cared for the ship as well, even making the kind of upgrades he'd always dreamed of but never managed to afford.

He wasn't sure what she got out of this arrangement. Or where she sourced these mysterious items he kept on delivering for her. But he didn't want her to leave.

With all the bad memories Coruscant had dredged up, he didn't know if he even would have had enough in him to protest. So much there was the same, but he felt like an outsider now. He couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not.

Bowdaar joined the crew on Nar Shaddaa. He couldn't have let him take that fight alone, and having a big guy would be useful, anyway. He'd never be able to fully understand all the things the Wookiee had been through, but he could understand how important it was to choose your own fate.

It was good for them to stick together.

Somehow the four of them had become a family. They might bicker all the time, but they were comfortable together. He was in charge, but they were equals off the job. He was learning to enjoy himself, enjoy being around people again.

The stakes were getting higher, but this time he wasn't alone.

* * * * * * * *

25.

Skavak. No matter where they travelled, what they did, he kept cropping up. Mercs sent after them on Taris, the man's ex-girlfriends trying to kill him to win back favour, cheating him during his job on Alderaan.

Even his name was horrible. Skavak. Harsh on the mouth. An ugly sound.

Just thinking of the man filled him with white hot rage. A gloating reminder of the pain he caused. The same pain the Empire had caused all those years ago. He'd turned him back into that scared fourteen year old, who didn't know where he'd sleep from day to day, who swore revenge on the Empire for taking away the life he knew.

This wasn't a mere annoyance. This was personal. A matter of principle.

He shouldn't have been surprised when he popped up again after the trip to the Long Shadow. It was supposed to be his big moment, but Skavak just to go and get in the way.

Killing him was a form of catharsis. So many things he'd been holding on to all came out in that one moment.

He'd learnt a long time ago that one man with a blaster and all the luck in the world couldn't take down an Empire by himself.

But he could take down Skavak. He could make him pay.

It wouldn't bring back the life he'd once known. His sister. His parents. His home. Anything that he'd lost. But it could ease the pain.

Just for a moment.

[ellana-ravenwood]

“I’m in, I’m all in” - Jason Todd x Single!Mom reader part 5/5

And here we are, the end of this series. I really enjoyed writing it haha. Well, obviously since this was supposed to be a ONE SHOT and turned into a...Five part series haha. Anyway, I really hope you like this last part, and thanks to y’all for all the reactions to this series, it was really motivating and encouraging <3.

FINISHED SERIES : PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4  NEWLY ADDED EPILOGUE : PART 1/3

My masterlist blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives

________________________________________________

A few weeks before Viggo’s kidnapping :

Jess’ can’t catch his breath, as they take his head out of the dirty rain water they were drowning him in. He coughs some filthy liquid, but just as he barely catches his breath they dip him in once more. 

And again. And again. And again. 

Each time, he almost drowns, but not completely. It’s pure torture. 

“This’ll teach you to not pay your debt.” 

He hears one of the thug who keeps plunging his head into the water say. And here we go again, face first into the shallow puddle. 

How humiliating it is as well, to be drowned in that way, in a dirty puddle, behind an old warehouse...Oh ? This time, the thugs don’t hold his head under water as long as the others, and Jess is able to catch his breath faster. 

His mind is racing as he begs : 

“Wait wait wait !” 

He didn’t actually want to do that but...This was his last chance of survival. His last chance to get out of the mess he put himself in. So what if others have to suffer because of him ? 

Now sure, he never wanted to ever involve you in his life again, not after he left without a word, but right now..The situation was hopeless, without you. 

And so, Jess heard himself say : 

“Wait wait wait ! I-I have an old buddy of mine who recently got in contact with me ! He wanted some- cough - some information about my ex fiancee !” 

The two thugs who were waterboarding him look at their boss, a sinister smirk on their faces. Said boss, Antonio Falcone of the Falcone family, arguably the most powerful mafia in Gotham (if it wasn’t for those damn Maronis), shakes his head, exasperated at the poor attempt of this guy to save his life.

He owed them hundred of thousands of dollars, and couldn’t pay them. If it was just a couple thousands, they would have broken his legs and made him do odd jobs for them to make it up to them once he healed...But that Jess ? 

He owed them more than most of the people that borrowed money from them REUNITED ! It was outrageous. And somehow, that sleazy motherfucker always got away with getting more and more money, while never paying it back. 

But it had been going on for long enough. 

Antonio wouldn’t let that go. Couldn’t. Especially not since he was in a good line to get up in ranks. At least, according to his uncle, Carmine Falcone, the Don of the family ! 

Having a guy owing them that much money in his district was bad publicity. He couldn’t let that go. He gestured for his thugs to waterboard him some more before finally ending it, but that annoying little man kept on going : 

“He’s a paparazzo you see ? He takes picture of...Well you know what paparazzi are ! Well he took picture of that woman, who was hanging out with the Waynes, you see ?” 

The Waynes ? As in “Bruce Wayne” ? Richest family in Gotham ? Antonio Falcone stopped the thugs from drowning that poor excuse of a man and said :

“What about them ?” 

“Well my buddy wanted to know if- cough- if the woman was her. My ex. My ex fiancee. And it was, it was ! He had pictures of her kissing one of the eldest Wayne boys, that Jason guy, the one whom everyone thought died ! And she has a son ! I mean...”

A light came on in Jess’ minds. Yes. Of course. Why didn’t he think of that before ? Yes. They would be his salvation ! 

“Yeah ! It was her ! And my son ! And they were close to the Waynes ! I have pictures, I can prove it to you ! I’m sure we can...I’m sure we can come up with some sort of a plan so I can get your money, and even more, thanks to them ! I have hundreds of pictures taken of them being the entire day together, and clearly being close ! We know Bruce Wayne already paid ransom before, even if Batman had to get into it and ruined things but...I’m sure we can be smarter ! I’m sure we can have a plan ! A man like you, mister Falcone, surely is smart enough to get away with it ! As long as nobody gets hurt and we plan things smoothly, it should be fine, right ? We-I mean you, could go away from this much richer than you were before !”

Jess surely had a good self-preservation instinct, as he instantly switched to flattery and...Well, it always worked very well on “Mister Falcone”.  

Antonio Falcone looked upon that miserable man with disdain, but with also some kind of new found respect. A man willing to sell his own kid to save his life ? Well, it was someone he could relate to haha. After all, he didn’t hesitate to kill his own father to climb up in ranks...

And Jess said his ex-fiancee and his son were hanging out with the Waynes huh ? Well. Well well well. 

As much as he disliked that that asshole would get away with owing them that much money once again, Antonio had to admit that they needed Jess to come up with a plan that would keep everything “bat free” and smooth...

Oh, this could actually turn an embarrassing situation into a way of shining in front of the boss ! 

************

A few hours before Red Hood tries to save Viggo : 

And this is how a plan came to life. A nasty plan, made by cowards. A plan to steal a child from his family, just so they could have money. 

But for what it was worth, Viggo was never supposed to be hurt. Plus the Waynes ? What would a couple of millions do to their bank accounts ? They were all filthy rich ! 

Jess tried to rationalize his bad decisions after bad decisions, tried to shift the blame on others, as he always did. Besides in the end, he was still alive. And that’s really all that mattered to him right now. So what if they bribed a couple of judges and lawyer, and go the kid’s custody thanks to that ? 

Only there was a little problem in their perfectly laid out plan...That goddamn child being way too curious and hearing things he shouldn’t have ! 

“COME BACK HERE YOU LITTLE BRAT !!”

Never before Viggo had been that afraid, as he heard “his father”’s steps grow closer and closer. He rushed as fast as he could down the stairs, almost falling over and breaking his neck. He jumped over the last two steps, and ran to the bathroom he saw when he first came in the house. 

He snatched the home phone on his way. He figured that trying to escape through the front door was stupid, as he saw Jess closing it earlier. Plus where was he gonna run to anyway ? In Gotham’s street ? At this hour, no one would take notice of him and Jess would catch up too fast...

But barricading himself in the bathroom with the phone ? He had a chance to warn someone ! To say what was happening, and get some help !

Jess was right on his heels as Viggo closed the bathroom door. 

“Open up right now, Viggo ! This isn’t what you think !” 

Jess said, banging loudly on the door. Viggo scoffed and answered : 

“Oh yeah ? Well what is it then ?!” 

Silence. Two more bangs, grunts and bad words, and then...total silence. 

Viggo didn’t wait for an answer or anything, as he typed his mom’s number on the home phone. He also figured that there was no point in calling 911. 

First, in Gotham, they were always very slow. And second, what was gonna happen once they arrived ? Jess would tell them about winning custody not long ago, about being his dad, and the cops wouldn’t believe anything he would say. Because custody battles ? They were always pretty nasty so...

If anything could be said about Viggo (Y/L/N), it was that he wasn’t stupid. 

Jess was quiet outside of the room, which was pretty worrying. He gave up way too fast trying to open the door...But Viggo’s mind, no matter how smart that little boy was, wasn’t thinking about that right now. 

No, instead, he was praying for you to just pick up and quick ! Tears were slowly gathering in his eyes, as he was slowly realizing that he might be in really big troubles, and he just wanted to see you...

Your phone rung a  few times before it went to your voice mail. Viggo’s heart stopped. No. No already ?! 

It was late, you were at work. You didn’t answer your phone when at work. At least not when it was an unknown number. If it was your best friend, or whoever babysat your son, you’d answer immediately, but a random number you never saw before, such as Jess’ home phone ? Nope...

Especially when working at the bar, like tonight. You might have not even heard your phone ringing ! 

He left a message, hurriedly talking about what he heard Jess say on the phone, talking about the Falcone and all. And then hung up. He tried to call a few times, but he knew there was not much hope...

Now, Viggo really wanted to cry. He felt so helpless, and it had been such a tough day ! Making his luggage to follow a dad he never even met before, only to realize that this was all a scam of some sort...

It was a lot, for a little eight years old boy ! 

But that said little eight year old wasn’t one to give up easily, and so he started to call the next person he first thought of. 

Jason.

He knew Jason’s number by heart, and typed it on the phone, sure that the man would rush to his aid no matter what he said ! There was NO WAY Jason wouldn’t come to help. Even if he wasn’t with his mom anymore, Viggo was convinced that he’d rush to his aid anyway ! 

And if Jason didn’t pick up, cause it was late ? He could always call the Manor ! Or Bruce ! The man gave him his number last time, when they ate ice cream and all, before his mom came back. He said : “call whenever you want, whenever you need” ! Yes, Yes Viggo would just...

A loud bang, a gunshot, made him jump in the air, scared and...What ? 

The door handle fell on the floor, fuming slowly. Smoke filled the small bathroom quickly, as the door opened on two large men holding guns and...

“Are you kidding us, Jess ? Really ?” 

“What ? The little fucker is fast ok ? I couldn’t grab him before he locked himself in there. I tried to bust the door open but I couldn’t.”

The two men shook their head, exasperated. One grabs Viggo, but the little one wasn't ready to get caught without a fight. He kicked him as hard as he could in-between his legs. The man let him go, and fell to his knees, holding his crotch and whining something along the line of “motherfucker”.  

Viggo tried to escape again, and he almost succeeded as Jess was just staring at him dumbly but...The second stranger grabbed him. He laughed and said : 

“Haha that kid has more courage than you’ll ever have Jess ! And he’s definitely smarter than you. Are you sure he’s yours ?” 

Jess just glared back but didn’t say anything. Now the man was pointing at the phone that escaped Viggo’s hand when he got surprised, understanding that the kid tried to call someone. 

“Did you manage to get anyone on the line ?” 

He asked, as he roughly lifted Viggo by his shirt. Your boy tried to struggle more, but the man was too strong and with his free hand stopped him from squirming. Keeping a face full of pride, and trying to look very unimpressed, Viggo said : 

“Yeah I did. And they’ll be here to kick your ass very soon !” 

Of course, that was a lie. But they didn't know that, did they ? 

The man took the phone from the floor and lifted it to his ear. The answering machine from Wayne Manor was just ending on a “Wayne are not here, please leave a message if you must”. The man hung up, whistled, and said : 

“Ah, well damn, he’s really related to the Waynes too somehow ! Damn Jess, who would’ve thought you’d be the one leading us to a treasure like that huh ?”

“I told you didn’t I ? There literally were hundreds of pictures of her kissing that Jason Todd guy, and of my boy here playing with the two youngest Waynes !” 

“I’m not your boy !” 

Viggo yelled, angry, twisting his head to look at Jess, daggers shooting out of his eyes while still being stuck in that man’s arms. Said man laughed again and said : 

“Well kid, if it’s any consolation, you’re definitely nothing like that coward. You, have got spirit. He, sold you to save his own life haha. How’d that make you feel ?” 

Why ? Why was that man twisting the knife further into Viggo’s heart ? The little boy already understood that his own father was doing something very fishy, but knowing that he was selling him to those guys ? That was...well, actually, that didn’t feel as bad as Viggo thought it would. 

It was in fact some sort of relief ? To know that that Jess was nothing of a father ! To know that he didn’t actually want to be part of his life, and that he didn’t have to forget...Oh, but THAT did hurt. The pang in his chest as he realized he wished Jason was there, that HE was the dad he always wanted. 

But hey, maybe that it was clear that Jess was an asshole, Jason would come back, realizing that he still had his place in the picture ? 

It was funny, that Viggo’s mind wandered to the one he wanted so bad to be his dad, as he was carried away by two scary strangers, and thrown in a car. 

“So what am I doing now ?” 

Jess asked, and one of the thug turned to him and said : 

“You call her tomorrow and then...Nothing. If this all deal goes well you’ll never hear from us again. If it goes sideways however...”

Leaving the threats flying in the air, he climbed into the front seat with a dangerous smirk, and Jess gulped. The other man, the one whose balls’ Viggo kicked, rubbed his crotch a bit and was about to climb in the car too, in front of the wheel, when Jess stopped him : 

“Hey, you’re not gonna hurt the kid right ?”

“Why, you got attached to him or something ?”

“No, I never wanted kids. But he...He didn't do anything ok ?” 

“No he didn’t, and yet he’s paying for his father’s sins. How unfair life is right ?”

“But you’re not gonna hurt him right ? It’s not part of the plan.” 

“Him kicking me in the nuts wasn’t part of the plan either. And him knowing our plan, wasn’t part of the plan. Oh, and us being here that early to pick the kid up ? Definitely not part of the plan. All that because you couldn’t find a quiet place to call Antonio. You fucking idiot. So now, who knows what will happen right ?” 

There’s a silence, and Jess suddenly feels sick. Sure, so far he didn’t really think of anything else but saving his own skin, and he worked so hard to try and get close to you again...but then you destroyed all his attempts and they had to retort to going to court and now...Now slowly, Jess realized what he had done. 

But it was too late now. Anyway, was it really that big of a secret, that he was a piece of shit ? After all, he left his pregnant fiancee fending on her own just because he couldn’t face her and say it was too much for him ! Still, one last time Jess says : 

“Nothing will go according to plan, if you hurt the kid.” 

The man doesn’t answer, as he just smiles and climb into the front seat. And slowly, they drive away. Jess’ eyes caught Viggo’s terrified gaze as he was taken away, and a sudden pang of regret took over his heart...

Up until he realized that he still was able to feel his heart beating thanks to that kid. And to his ex, you, who happened to be linked to the Waynes. Plus, that guy was just trying to scare him, of course they weren’t going to hurt the kid ! They needed him in one piece, if they wanted the money ! 

And with a sigh, Jess went back into his house. He just had to wait until the next day to call you and say they had your son and all that, and this all nightmare would finally be over. FiNALLY. 

************

The present : 

Jason’s heart drops. His blood freeze. His mind goes blank.

Viggo wasn’t breathing. And his skin was so cold.

No. No no no no no. Please god no. Everything but this.

Not Viggo. Not his precious little boy. No…

But no matter what Jason was doing, his CPR didn’t seem to work. And the kid was growing colder and colder.

“No ! No ! Come on Viggo ! Come on boy, please ! Please don’t leave me !”

The boy was unresponding. His lips were blue.

“Don’t go please don’t go ! You can’t go ! You can’t leave your mom ! You can’t leave me ! Please, please !”

But Viggo wasn’t breathing. Wasn’t moving. And his skin was know frighteningly cold. His eyes weren’t opening…and he wasn’t breathing.

“Come on, come on breathe. Breathe…Come on, son, BREATHE !!”

A minute went by, and Jason knew the situation was dire. How many more minutes until the boy would have permanent brain damage ? And...What if he didn’t wake up ? 

No. No no no. This wasn’t possible. Viggo couldn’t die ! His little boy couldn’t die !! 

Jason, tears in his eyes, kept on giving him CPR, with the desperation of a man who would do anything to save his child. 

“Come on, come one Viggo, come back to me ! Come on, you’re a fighter right ! Come on, come back ! Please ! Please son, come back !” 

Another minute went by. And Viggo was still not breathing, growing colder and colder and...

Three little coughs. 

Jason’s breath caught. 

************

A few hours before Jason tries to desperately revive Viggo : 

Coming home to an empty house was odd. This was the first time you were alone in your apartment, without Viggo welcoming you back cheerfully (the little fucker never listened to his babysitter about his “bed time”, and would always wake up to come and jump in your arms). The first time in eight years. 

You didn’t like it. You didn’t like it at all. 

You felt as tears came back to your eyes, at how unfair this all situation was. 

You knew that this trial to get Viggo’s custody was bogus. That somehow, Jess had rigged it. You had no idea why, but you knew there was no way any sane judge would give custody of a child to a father who wasn’t there for the first eight years of his life. 

Even more so since everything went so fast, every paperworks was signed in a matter of a few days ! And they took him away from you and...

The tears spilled over. This was starting to be too much. And you caught yourself wishing Jason was here...You knew that he would know exactly what to do, in that situation. You knew he would never let it happened in the first place ! 

But Jason wasn’t here. Jason broke up with you. Because it was “too much” for him and...Yup, you were definitely crying again. 

It was fine though, this time, Viggo wasn’t there to witness it...The thought of your son not being peacefully asleep in his bedroom made you cry even more.

You went to his room, and laid in his empty bed. Holding his pillow tight in your arms, you cried and cried, smelling his odor as it was already starting to disappear...When would you be able to see Viggo again ? 

Jess didn’t seem to want you to see him much. Actually, you were pretty sure he was planning on making you regret those weeks of him trying to come back into your life, and you pushing him away. 

And so you cried. Without anyone to comfort you, not even your little precious son...That’s when your phone rung. 

Uh ? A text. You just received a text. You quickly looked at it and “a new voice message is waiting on your voice mail”. Oh right. Probably from that unknown number that called a few times before, when you were at work. 

You never answered those calls, especially not at work, but messages ? Sure, you listened to them. You never know, some could be good news. 

“Mom !”

Your heart skipped a beat. That was Viggo’s voice ! And he seemed scared ! You had no idea how you knew, but you could feel how your son felt even through the phone ! 

“Mom ! Jess didn’t want me still mom ! He’s with them Falcone people ! The ones in the paper ! And I don’t know why but he wants to take me to them and he wants to call you after mom ! Mom come please !” 

This send a rush of adrenaline to your brain, and you jumped on your feet, grabbing your bag before running out of your apartment. 

You didn’t go far though, realizing you had no idea where Jess lived. Motherfucker didn’t even give you an address. For “his own safety” they dared to tell you...But you had his number ! 

Without thinking twice, you called him. It rung three time before he picked up : 

“Hello ?” 

“What the fuck is happening Jess ?!” 

“Ah, (Y/N). Well, hello to you too. I’m doing great, what about you ? Why are you calling so late anyway ?” 

Of course he recognized you instantly. Just like you recognized his unpleasant sniveling little voice ! How did you even date that guy again ?! You barked : 

“What do you mean ? I just received a panicked message from Viggo telling me some pretty concerning things ?! What is happening ? Where are you ? I’m coming over.” 

“Calm down please (Y/N). I’ll have you know all our conversations are recorded, in case I need further evidence for the court that you’re unfit to be a mothe...”

“Shut the fuck up and answer me.”

“Answer you what ? Nothing is happening ok ? Viggo missed you and called you, if he sounds a little distressed it’s no big deal. He’s just a kid who misses his mom alright ?” 

Oh. It was clear Jess had actually no idea what your son could have possibly said to you in his message, or he wouldn’t be so chilled about it all. You continue : 

“You say those conversations are recorded right ?” 

“Yup.” 

You wished he was right in front of you right now, so you could bash his stupid face in. You hated the way he just said “yup”, so proud and satisfied of himself. So you delivered your fatal blow quickly : 

“Oh ? And what would they think when I’ll tell them Viggo said you had something to do with the Falcones ?” 

There’s a silence at the other end of the line, and you’re pretty sure you heard his breath catch as you said your last words. Finally, he says : 

“Ok well, I guess I won’t play more games then.”

************

The present : 

Three little coughs. 

Jason’s breath caught...to finally let a long relieved sigh when Viggo started to vomit some water, and breathe again. 

“Yes, yes that’s good my boy, that’s good, let it all out. Let it all out...” 

Jason said, helping Viggo to sit up, patting his back soothingly as the little boy coughed the rest of the water that were stuck in his lungs. 

Jason never felt so relieved. So light. So...He was going to be ok. The boy was going to be ok. Right ? He turned his face to him, and was suddenly worried again as Viggo’s eyes seem to have trouble focusing on his face. 

And the kid was still so cold. 

Without thinking about it twice, Jason took his jacket off, thanking his father for creating all their costumes waterproofed ! Even though Jason jumped into the freezing water too, his clothes were still dry and he therefor wasn’t as cold as the poor kid. 

Jason wrapped Viggo’s small body in his heavy leather jacket. He helped him put his legs where the arms were suppose to go, so as to create some kind of pants for him, and wrapped his upper body with the rest of his jacket. 

Jason was a tall man, and Viggo ? A rather short eight year old. The Red Hood’s jacket fitted around him perfectly, big enough to wrap all around him. 

The boy took a few deep breath, but was still not speaking. And his teeth were clacking against each others...

Jason took him in his arms, and held him close, rubbing his back and legs in an attempt to warm him. 

“Come on Viggo, you’re ok son, you’re ok. Right ? You’re ok. You’re breathing. You just need to warm up, you’ll be fine. Right ? You’re ok, you’re ok.” 

Jason heard himself chant, more trying to convince himself than anything else. And Viggo was still not talking...but his teeth and shaking were slowly disappearing. 

Until finally, he calmed down and snuck closer to Jason, snuggling his little face in the man’s warm chest. 

“Viggo ? Are you ok ?” 

“The Jason...”

Fuck. He recognized him. Well, duh, of course he did, Jason had to take his helmet off to give him CPR, and didn’t put it back on. Obviously he was going to recognize him ! Well. Too fucking bad. It was too late now to do anything about it anyway. 

So what if he knew his secret identity ? Jason trusted that kid enough to know he’ll never tell anyone else. Viggo pulled away from Jason slightly, and, still wrap tightly in the leather jacket, he managed to free an arm and reached up to lay a small cold hand on the man’s tears riddled cheek. 

“This explains a lot.” 

For a second, Jason lost himself to the touch of his little boy. Yes. “His”. He didn’t even want to hide how he felt about that kid anymore. In his heart, Viggo had been his son for a long time. And finally being able to be near him again made Jason feel lightheaded. 

He had dreamt for so long, to be able to talk, play with and hug that little one. Just like when he was still dating you. Putting him in bed, and telling him bedtime stories, as you looked upon the both of them fondly. 

Jason had craved, without even realizing it, to see that kid again. And so here, as he laid his small hand on his cheek, wiping away his tears...Jason couldn’t help but feel a little helpless. A little overwhelmed. 

He was suppose to be the one reassuring the kid right now, after that traumatic experience. And yet, here was Viggo, wrapped like a little bundle of hay in his leather jacket, comforting him by his mere touch. 

For a few seconds, his words didn’t register quite well in Jason’s head until...What ? Uh ? What does “this” explain ? But before Jason could ask, Viggo continues :

“That’s why you left right ? Because you’re Red Hood. You didn’t want us to get involved in all that right ?” 

Viggo said, showing the three unconscious men around him. And there’s hope in his eyes, and for a moment, Jason thinks about breaking that kid’s heart forever...but he can’t. 

He was planing on just saving him and then bringing him home to his mom, but stay cold and distant with him. Stay away. Make him hate him. Not leaving any hope that Jason cared...But here he was, crying his eyes out as he cradled that small boy in his arms, paternal instinct seeping out of his every pore. 

And so he couldn’t. He couldn’t stay away from that boy, he knew now. Just like he knew since the beginning that he couldn’t stay away from you forever. 

Seeing this hopeful little boy. He just can’t break Viggo’s heart, not after what just happened to him. And damn, why did that kid had to be so insightful and smart ? So observant, too ? Suddenly, he was reminded of all the time you told him that sometimes, having an intelligent kid wasn’t that great. 

Because Viggo always seemed to understand what he wasn’t suppose to understand. Always seem to know when things were up, and figured things out way too fast (for real, the easter egg chase wasn’t even fun as he quickly figured out wherever the “easter Bunny” could have put eggs...). 

And so Jason looks at Viggo, and he can’t. He just can’t. He can't decide to leave for good. Even more so because even as he thought he was safe if he left his life, he got hurt tonight and...

“You know, we’d be safer if you were with us right ? See, you left us and for the first time in my life I almost died. You should stick around...” 

Jason couldn’t do that to him. He couldn’t do that to that cute little one...He couldn’t resolve himself to definitely break his heart and shove him out of his life. Because he loved that kid. To death. And when he got hurt he got so angry, so sick with worries, so helpless, so...so... 

Jason couldn’t do that to him. But he also couldn’t do that to himself. He couldn’t stay away like that. He couldn't...Maybe it was selfish, but he didn’t want to not be part of your life, of Viggo’s life. He...He wanted to...he...

Viggo, thoughtfully, was still wiping away Jason’s tears. Not missing one. Focused on his task, as he continued : 

”If we’re with you, you can protect us. It’s easier. Cause you’re already there. And you’re Red Hood. So you will always protect us. I’m guessing your family are the rest of the people ? Batman and all ? If we stick around with you, and with them, we’ll be safe for sure. Right ? So you should really come back. And stay with us. Stay with me.”

Jason’s breath caught, and he felt tears welling up in his eyes again. But this time, they were happy ones. Because here, in front of that brave, smart little boy, he never felt so joyful before in his life. 

Here, as he finally decided what the actual right thing to do was. 

“Smart cookie...” 

He says, and then he grabs Viggo by the shoulder before hugging him tight against his heart. Not letting go. Not ever planing on letting go again. 

“Don’t leave me alone again, Jason...” 

“I won’t, I promise.” 

Viggo wraps his little arms around Jason’s neck, and hold him with all his force. Hugging him like he never hugged anyone before, refusing to let go.

Jason doesn’t mind, of course. On the contrary. He gives the embrace back, and stands up, holding the kid against him. Viggo clings to him for dear life, and Jason has absolutely no intention of letting go.

Not this time.

Not ever. 

“I’ll never leave you alone again.”

This time, Viggo knows that Jason won’t ever go back on his words. Because there’s so much strength, so much certainty in his few words...Yes. Viggo knows. He knows he finally found what he had been looking for for so long. 

And so the little boy lays his head against Jason, and says, right before falling asleep after all those emotions he went through : 

“Thank you, dad.” 

************

An hour before Red hood saves Viggo : 

Jess owed money to the Falcone family. And they took your kid in hope to ask for a ransom to Bruce Wayne. 

When you explained you weren't with Jason anymore, Jess panicked and got angry...But then he remembered that Bruce Wayne had paid for the release of total strangers before. Of people he didn’t even know, helping out just because he could. So paying for his son’s ex girlfriend ? He’ll do it. 

You tried to tell him this was a ridiculous plan, and to give Viggo back to you before anything could happen but...that’s when he shattered your heart as he explained that your son was already in the Falcones’ hands. 

Your mind went blank. You’re pretty sure you insulted and threatened him some more, until you realized there was no point in doing so, right now, you unfortunately had to work with him. 

You obviously agreed to not call the police. Not that they’d help much anyway. Plus them knowing would most likely involve the “Bats”, and neither you nor Jess wanted that. 

Because no matter how much you admired those night vigilante, and how much you were sure they were needed in Gotham, you were too worried for your son’s safety to want them involved ! 

And so the obvious next step was...To go to Wayne Manor, and beg for their help. Deep down, you were pretty sure you wouldn’t have to beg that much anyway, knowing how Bruce had been a few days before, when Viggo skipped school to bring back his birthday present to the Manor. 

They had ice cream. They played together. They talked. They...They bonded. You knew Bruce really liked Viggo. And really liked you. You knew he would help. But it’s still very nervous that you drove to there. 

************

A few minutes before Red Hood saves Viggo : 

It was rather late, when you arrived at the Manor and rung the bell. To your surprise, Alfred didn’t answer the door. Bruce did (it was rather late at night, and Gotham had been quiet. He came home early that day, taking advantage of the quietness to take care of Wayne Inc business). 

“Wait wait, (Y/N) calm down, calm down. I don’t understand anything you say. Please breathe, and start over.” 

He listened to you, a serious face on. Asking you questions sometimes, to have more details. He listened to your entire story, and he felt his blood boil. 

That Jess...How dare he ?! Bruce felt an intense urge to hurt him. To make him regret, to make him suffer, for what he did to you and Viggo. It kind of surprised him, to realize how strongly he felt about this entire issue. 

It made him realize, in that moment, that you and your son were already holding a special place in his heart. That all he was waiting for up until now, was for his son to wake up and get back together with you ! 

It made him realize, as some of his worst side surface, thinking of all the ways he could make Jess suffer, that you two were already family to him. And the would do anything to protect you. So when he listened to you, hearing that Jess gave Viggo to the Falcones’ to pay off his debt, int he hope that your tie to the Wayne family would be enough...His blood boiled. 

He, of course, did not hesitate one second to accompany you to the address Jess gave you, “taking his checkbook” with him...Though he had no intention of letting that sleazy ball off the hook that easily. 

************

The present : 

It was infuriating, to see Jess smile as he opened the door to see you and Bruce Wayne himself. 

The little shit was so sure he’d won...it drove you crazy, that he actually did. Because you were here, with Bruce Wayne himself. So of course he won. Bruce was going to give him money to get Viggo back, and Jess would get away with it (again). 

The man was actually pretty proud of himself. He handled the situation perfectly, he thought. He came a long way, since having his head shoved in a puddle of water huh ? 

Ugh. But he was so obviously proud of himself, it made you furious. And if you weren’t so worried about your son’s safety, you would have already punched him and told Bruce it was time to go. 

However, Viggo’s life was on the line. You could feel your son being in genuine danger. And so you did not do anything when he said : 

“Please, come on in.” 

You followed him in the living room, noticing that your boy’s luggage hadn’t even been unpacked...Your poor baby must have been so scared. Must still be so scared right now, surrounded with strangers ! 

You hoped to everything you held holly that he was ok. That you’d be able to take him in your arms soon. That things would go back to normal. 

And your heart bled at the mere thought of your son all alone, with strangers, and scared. You wanted to hold him against you, you wanted to-wanted to...Bruce’s gaze was fixed on you, and his jaw visibly clenched as he saw tears starting to well up in your eyes. 

It was fairly easy to know what was running through your brain right now. He had been in somewhat similar situations than yours before, with his own children. Each and everyone of them had been in danger at some point, and everything had relied on his shoulder to save them. 

More than once, he failed to...Jason suffered the consequences of him not being fast enough...The anger this entire situation provoked in Bruce came rushing back, and he turned to Jess, glaring at him. 

All of a sudden, the man lost his color, as the famous Bruce Wayne gave him a threatening look. Yo. What was up with that guy ? He always seemed so charming on Tv ? Now sure the situation wasn’t really one to be happy about, of course, but everything would go well if Bruce signed that check. Like chill, it was fine, the situation was handled perfectly well ! 

You were about to say something, but Bruce didn’t let you. Because there, right now, faced with Jess’ infuriating satisfied smile, Bruce took a decision. And so he says : 

“(Y/N) wait for me outside. This is a business transaction between Mister...I do not know your last name. Mister Jess here, and I.”

You look at him, surprise, and starts to say a  “But-” but he cuts you off instantly : 

“I insist, please.” 

You don’t know what made you listen to him, but you can’t find the energy inside you not to. Usually, you would have argued. Say that there was no way, and that you were gonna stay. But...

Bruce had a tone of voice that was hard to resist to. 

Plus, you realized that you were completely and utterly trusting him, and if he said you should wait outside, there must be a reason. So without arguing further, you gave him a knowing look and exited the house, going back to the car. 

Bruce turns to Jess, and smiles. A dangerous, scary smile. A “Batman” smile. Jess takes an unsure step back, and says : 

“So um...are you writing that check or what ? The soonest we’re done with it, the soonest we can get Viggo back.” 

That was the straw that broke the camel. The moment Jess should have shut up. Too bad for him now. In a swift move, not letting Jess the time to even know what was happening, Bruce caught him by the collar of his shirt and brought him up to his face. 

Bruce was much taller than Jess, and quickly, Jess’ feet left the ground. 

“Oh what the fuck man ? What are you-”

“How dare you ? Your own son ?! How dare you use him like that ?!” 

“Put me down man ok ? I’m sorry but I didn’t have a choice, I-” 

Bruce did not want to hear it. He knew what was going to happen, if he let go. Jess was going to find himself excuses. He was going to justify his disgusting actions. And he was going to stall, and not tell him where Viggo truly was. 

And Bruce didn’t want to hear any of it. He was about to cut to the chase. No beating around the bush on that one. “Beating”, what an interesting word...

Bruce threw Jess against his fridge, and the man fell on his ass, the wind knocked out of his lungs. Maybe a few cracked ribs. Definitely lots of bruises.

But Bruce wasn’t finished yet, oh no. He took hold of the man’s collar again, and dragged him to the kitchen’s table, where he smashed his back on said table and head butted him. Hard. Pretty sure he broke his nose. 

Jess yelled in pain and fear, and tried to squirm his way out of Bruce’s grasp, but he clearly had no idea who he was facing. 

“Where is Viggo ?” 

Bruce asked, holding Jess against the table with even more force. 

“I don’t know ok ! They took him and I-” 

Bruce rolled his eyes and straightened Jess back up, before punching him in the face. Not using his full force, of course. After all, he needed the man conscious for his interrogation... 

“Enough bullshit, where is he ?” 

“I don’t-” 

“Tell me you don’t know one more time, lie to me one more time, and I’ll break your knee cap.” 

Bruce says, setting Jess on the floor in front of him and taking hold of one of his leg. Bruce laid a foot on Jess’ chest, making sure the man couldn’t move, and slowly twisted his knee. 

“Outch outch outch please, please stop !” 

“Tell me where the boy is.” 

“Stop ! Please stop !” 

But Bruce had no intention to stop. He was sure (gut feelings) that Jess knew where Viggo was, and he wasn’t about to let that asshole get away with all this.

Punching him felt incredibly satisfying. And right now ? Crushing his ribs cage under his foot so he wouldn’t move, and slowly twisting his leg as to give him as much pain as possible ? Well, Bruce didn’t know he could feel such pleasure hurting others. 

But when someone touched his family, he tended to lose control... 

“Alright fine fine !! Ok ok stop ! I know where he is ! I know where he is ! I’ll tell you everything ok ? I’ll tell you everything !” 

But Bruce doesn’t quite let go of the leg yet, instead, he raises an eyebrow and says : 

“Start talking.” 

And Jess indeed started to talk. He gave all the informations Bruce needed, and there, laid on the floor of his kitchen, looking miserable and pitiable, face bloodied and bruised...Bruce couldn’t help himself. 

As soon as he got the informations, he made a quick snapping motion and broke Jess’ leg. And he would have done more, if it wasn’t for you waiting, impatiently in his car. 

He was worried that you’d worry too much. He wanted this to be over quick, but he also wanted to give Jess something to think about. 

Jess’ scream resonated inside the house, and he grabbed at his limped leg screaming : 

“WHAT THE FUCK YOU FUCKING PSYCHO !!??” 

But Bruce only looked at him with hatred in his eyes, scoffing once more and saying : 

“I’m the psycho ? Maybe. But I never sold my own children to the mafia. I never ran away from taking care of my kids once. Sure I have many flaws, I might have liked a bit too much snapping your leg like a twig, but at least I’m not a piece of shit like you who doesn’t even care in the least about his own son.” 

Ah. So that was it. More than Jess attacking his family, it was the fact that he dared to give away his son that easily, that infuriated Bruce. Now he realized it. And of course, to Bruce, his children were everything. 

So seeing a man as despicable as Jess, never even wanting to meet his son up until he owed money, and used him...It drove him mad. 

“What does it matter to you anyway ? I never even wanted kids ! She forced it on me you know !” 

Jess whined, and he immediately realized once again, he should have shut up. Because now Bruce, who was about to leave, was kneeling down next to him and grabbing him by the collar again : 

“She forced it on you ? Please, tell me the story. I heard her side, I’m sure you have a lot to say about yours.” 

Never in his life would Jess have think that the charming and smiling Bruce Wayne he saw on TV could be that scary, but there he was, staring at him with dead eyes and talking in that creepy voice... 

“I mean I...She didn’t quite force it it’s just...Ok maybe when she got pregnant I said we should keep it, and maybe I acted like I was excited but it’s because of the...pressure, you know ? Of the...um...I...” 

“Say you’re sorry.” 

“You just broke my leg and you want me to-outch outch outch SORRY !”

Bruce was pushing down on Jess’ broken legs, pressing exactly where the bones broke, and got what he wanted out of him. With a last look full of disgust, Bruce stood back up and started to leave, saying : 

“You don’t deserve to have a child like Viggo. Or a girl like (Y/N) in your life. I suggest you never enter in contact with them again, or I’ll come back. Better yet, my son, Jason, who’s dating (Y/N) ? He’ll come back. And believe me when I say he’s much less patient than I am.” 

Bruce was about to leave but Jess desperately threw himself in his legs and grabbed at the bottom of his pants. Whining, in pain, he managed to say : 

“Wait man, you can’t-You can’t just leave like that ! If they know I told you anything, they’re going to kill me ! You hear, kill me !” 

Bruce looked down upon Jess with great disdain, and scoffed. 

“And how is that my problem ?” 

He said, before leaving the room. 

Now, of course, his “no killing” rule applied to “not letting someone kill another person”. If he could avoid any death, Bruce would do it, and most likely, he’ll set up a surveillance of some sort to make sure Jess wouldn’t get killed. 

Well, to be honest, Bruce was actually planing on getting Jess behind bars. It would be somewhat easier to make sure he wouldn’t die that way, plus he deserved to spend the rest of his life in prison. He was pretty sure that the charge of kidnapping, and in a way attempted murder would be enough to let him rot in prison for a long time. Plus if he had ties with the Falcones...

Yes. Bruce obviously wouldn’t let Jess die, no matter how scummy he was. But hey, Jess himself didn’t know that, did he ? He had no idea that Bruce Wayne was the famous Batman. 

And you know what ? It was utterly satisfying, to see a bloodied Jess weeping on his floor, scared to death, so sure he was going to die...Very satisfying indeed. 

************

When Bruce came back in the car, the first thing you noticed was his bruised knuckles. But you didn’t say anything. 

You listened to him filling you in, listening to him saying that they were holding your son in an old warehouse and that was the rendezvous point, and didn’t mention the bloodied hands. 

You could only imagine Jess’ state, by the look of Bruce’s damaged knuckles. And so you just smiled lowly, knowing that at least for this once, justice was somewhat served...

************

Bruce goes in the warehouse alone, leaving you in the car. He convinced you that it was better if he went alone, as they would expect him anyway more than you...But the truth was, he didn’t want to put your life in danger. 

He wasn’t about to come in from the front door, if Falcone’s guys were involved, they were most certainly armed and dangerous. He couldn’t risk an entrance obvious like that, Viggo’s life could be in jeopardy. 

Bruce noticed a window open on the first floor, and made his way up there quick, lifting himself up thanks to his arms’ strength and agility. He raised his turtle neck all the way to his eyes, so they wouldn’t recognize his face, and slip into the warehouse...

To discover that someone came here before. 

Viggo was nowhere to be seen, and three men were laying on the floor, definitely not in a great shape. 

Bruce let himself fall on the ground, and went to check the men. 

They were definitely Falcone’s. He recognized their guns, no other used this specific build. The two men had been roughed up pretty bad, and were unconscious. Not much infos to get out of them. 

But a bit further, was a third man. He was soaked from head to toe, and barely breathing. A batarang was stuck in his shoulder. 

Bruce knelt down and made sure the man was actually still alive. He was, but he was definitely weak. Bruce quickly made an anonymous call to the closest hospital and to the police, and gave them the address to the warehouse. 

But the men didn’t interest Bruce further. No. What interested him was those water marks, there, near the unconscious-batarang-to-the-shoulder-man. It was shape like someone kneeling next to a small person. 

Or rather. A child. Viggo. 

Bruce felt his heart beating faster, what happened ? Was he too late ? Did the worst happen ? 

Next to the water marks, he found a little piece of fabric...Brown leather...

“Jason...” 

Bruce said out loud, recognizing from where this piece of fabric came from. His son’s leather Red Hood jacket. Ah. So he got here first. But how did he know ? 

Suddenly however, Bruce felt more at ease. 

Because of Jason managed to get here and Viggo wasn’t around anymore, it surely meant that...He saved him, right ? The fact that there was water everywhere was a bit alarming, but Jason would never give up on that little boy...Just like Bruce would never give up on his son. 

He stood up, and went straight to the exit of the warehouse and to his car, where you were waiting. 

“What happened ? Where is Viggo ?!” 

You asked, full of panic. But strangely, Bruce’s words calmed you down (even though he was freaking out internally as well, he hid it well) : 

“He’s with Jason.” 

“What ?” 

“I’ll explain on the way, ok ? And please...bear with me.” 

************

Viggo couldn’t believe it. Wow. WOW ! So THIS was the Batcave huh ? 

That was crazy. There were so many things, Viggo just didn’t know where to look ! Was that a dinosaur ? AN ACTUAL FUCKING DINOSAUR ?! And what was up with that giant coins anyway ? 

Jason had brought him here a few minutes ago, and sat him up on the infirmary table. And though at first Viggo felt very sleepy (he slept most of the way, curled up against Jason even as Jay was driving back to the bat cave), being there, in the middle of this amazing place (the infirmary was where there was most lights, in the center of the cave) woke him up instantly ! 

But when it seemed like Jason was leaving, Viggo had clutched to his sleeve, scared to be alone again, but Jason reassured him that he was just going to fetch some clothes for him. 

At the same time, Jason took advantage of this to fill his brothers in on what was happening. The night had indeed been calm for them, and they were all already home. 

Their father had gone earlier, without telling them where, which was surprising but...he could tell him everything later. He knew that he wouldn’t be mad that he brought Viggo back to the cave.

Once everyone knew what was up, they surrounded Viggo and gave him words of support and encouragement, making him feel like he was...part of the family. 

Like they really were his super cool and dedicated uncles and aunt. 

Damian especially, tried to cheer the little boy up, knowing how traumatic this kind of experience could be. Cassandra was the only one that didn’t say much, but she clutched his hand and Viggo felt instantly better just with this. 

A few minutes later, Jason came back with some of his old clothes (that every single kid after him wore, including Cassandra) and gave them to Viggo. They were still a bit too big for the boy, but it was good enough. 

A red hoodie (of course), some sweatpants they all wore during training (they were in remarkable condition really), and socks. He couldn’t find shoes that would fit him, so he just brought some slippers that were too big but with which he could still walk. 

However, right now, Jason forbid the boy to walk, as he still had to get over the shock of almost drowning...Well to be honest, Jason had to get over the shock of almost losing his boy. Because Viggo ? 

He kept gawking at everything in the cave, and asking hundreds of questions to everyone, and seemed completely fine. Jason however needed to-

“MOM !” 

Viggo jumped from the table he was sitting on, and started running towards the entrance of the cave. The entrance coming from the house. 

Confused, Jason turned back and...his heart clenched. 

There you were. With his father ? 

The hell just happened ? Wait, doesn’t matter, because you were there. And Jason found himself, despite how awful those past few days had been, smiling like an idiot just by seeing you. 

But...Were you going to forgive him for leaving you like he did ? 

Viggo was almost to you now. On the way, he lost both his slippers but it didn’t matter. You closed up the rest of the way, running to him, and grabbed him in your arms, clutching him against your heart as he returned your embrace. 

You took a good look at him, looking at his face, arms, legs, making sure he wasn’t hurt. But the only thing he seemed to have was a few bad bruise on his face, and a swollen eye. Other than that, he seemed perfectly healthy. 

The batfamily gave you and your son time to hug each other, kiss each other and whisper promises that you’ll never leave each others again. And then, slowly, you turned to Jason. 

The man was pretty sure that he heard Viggo say “be nice” to you as you walked towards him. 

Jason saw Viggo go to Bruce, but he barely register how cute it was that Bruce just instantly picked up the kid as if it was normal, as if he had always been his grandkid, and mentioned something about...ice cream ?

Because you were in front of him now, and he couldn’t read your face at all. Were you happy ? Relieved ? Mad ? Sad ? Furious ? 

It seems like you’re about to reach for him, but then, at the last second, your hand bunch up in a fist and you punch him in the guts instead. With all your might. 

In the background, you’re pretty sure you heard Damian exclaiming : “Haha yeah ! Serves him right !” and his siblings half-heartedly telling him to not say such things, even if they kinda agreed. 

Ok. So you were definitely mad. Jason was straightening back up and ready to apologize profusely to you, when you grabbed him by the back of his neck and crashed your mouth against his. 

Savagely. Fiercely. Whole heartedly. 

Passed the first few seconds of surprise, Jason kissed you back. 

With all his heart too, passionately, fervently. 

The world around you dissolved slowly, as there was just you and Jason now. Just his lips moving against yours. Just his tongue licking your mouth open, and then tangling with yours ardently. 

You don’t even hear your son asking Bruce to take him away to get some ice cream because this was getting gross, and everyone slowly leaving to go upstairs, in the Manor to leave you two alone to...Figure things out. 

The kiss dragged for long minutes, his arms were now tightly wrapped around your waist, as yours were around his neck. 

Days of heartbreak, of regrets, of sadness and frustration...vanished in the force of this beautiful kiss. 

When finally you separated from each other, you whispered : 

“Don’t ever decide something for me like that again, Jason...” 

Ah. Of course, just like your son, you figured out why he left. Jason figured that his father probably told you about this all...”Batman/vigilante” thing while driving you here. Eh, he’ll ask him about details later, right now, it wasn’t important, as he answers : 

“I thought you’d be safer without me. That you deserved better.”

“I decide what I deserve.” 

The way you sound so sure of yourself, so adamant...it makes him feel lightheaded once again. Just like when Viggo touched his cheek, wiping his tears again. 

It makes him feel so utterly happy, that he doesn’t know how to react. And he finds himself kissing you again, his lips reluctant to let go of yours. His arms definitely not letting go of you. 

“I decide what I deserve.”...Yes, yes you do. How foolish was he, to think he could ever stay away from you anyway ? When you were so strong and...Everything he ever wanted ? 

He pulls away from the kiss, and says : 

“I have to tell you, (Y/N)-”

“If you’re about to tell me how dangerous it is for me to stay with you, or some bullshit like that, I’ll punch you again. I’ll have you know that as soon as you left us, that’s when we started to be in danger...” 

The exact same words your son used. Well, like mother like son. After all, your boy had to inherit all his greatness from someone. And it was certainly not from Jess. ...Jess, whatever happened to him ? 

Jason figured that if you were with his dad, it probably meant you went to see Jess and retraced Viggo’s whereabouts and...It didn’t matter for now. He’ll ask his dad later. And he’ll pay a little visit to Jess later, too. 

“No, I wasn’t about to say that.” 

“Oh. Sorry. Ok, well go on then.”  

“Ok - deep breath - I...I want you to know. That this. You and I. I’m in. I’m all in. I’ve always been all in, but I was also an idiot. But now ? Tonight has been eye opening. And from now on, I’ll be there. I won’t leave, unless you want me to. Ever. I’ll never even think, of leaving. I love you. I love you so much. And I know now that I...I can’t live without you. And without Viggo. You two, are my life. I realized that when dumbass me broke up with you, it felt like dying...And I would know how that feels like, believe me. I...I just love you. And you’ll never be “too much” for me, never. In fact, every seconds with you aren’t enough. I love you.”

Wow. You were...certainly not expecting such a love confession. You found yourself speechless, while you wished you could tell him so much. But right now, the shock and joy you felt stopped you from saying anything. 

And so you kissed him again, whispering a “I love you” against his lips. And he smiled in the kiss, dragging you with him to the elevator leading up to Wayne Manor. 

That night, maybe you were unable to tell him how much you truly loved him, but you definitely showed it to him, rolling around with him in his sheets all night long...

All the while, Bruce and his other kids were having ice cream with Viggo, living their best life binge watching fails video on YouTube. Bruce figured he should give you and Jason some private time...Plus, he really didn’t mind at all spending time with that little boy. 

On the contrary... 

************

Two years later : 

“Dada !” 

The little girl exclaims excitedly, moving her arms and legs around and grabbing at the man’s face lovingly. She repeats the word a few times, almost singing it, and then giggles happily.

“No Laura, granddada ! I’m GRAND-dada, not dada !” 

Bruce says for the hundred times, as Jason’s daughter is sitting on his lap, facing him and now apparently very interested in his eyebrows. 

She stands clumsily on his lap, and reaches up, giggling to herself, and Bruce can’t help but give her a fond look full of love, letting her pulling his eyebrows even if it’s painful. Ah, he’d let that little girl do anything really. The joy of being a grandfather. You could spoil rotten the kids, without fear of any consequences ! 

Except maybe for a few mis-plucked eyebrows...

“Don’t bother dad, Except for her mom whom she calls “mama” and for Viggo that she calls “ ‘igo”, she calls everyone she likes “Dada.””

Jason says sadly, plopping down in the couch next to his dad. 

You, Jason, Viggo and little Laura were visiting the mansion today, to the rest of the family’s greatest pleasure. Dick came by too, just to see everyone, and it quickly became a very pleasant family day. 

“How is it fair that she calls her and only her mama ? But then as soon as she kind of like someone she calls them “dada” ? I swear Roy is annoying the hell out of me with that, and he’s telling her that he is indeed, her dada !” 

Jason continues, a bit of frustration in his voice. Bruce laughs, unable to stop himself at how sweet it is to see his son get upset at such a trivial thing. Happy, too, that his son can get upset at such a trivial, normal thing, and that his worries aren’t always related to his...”night life”.

“But isn’t it good, dad, that she calls everyone she likes “dada” ? It means that she decided that your name fitted the best the people she loves, because you know, you’re someone she loves very much !” 

Jason turns to his son’s voice, and Viggo smiles at him brightly. 

Sometimes, like right now, Jason couldn’t quite believe that this was real life. That he really had a family now, and that they were just so...so...So perfect. 

You’re walking behind Viggo, and you smile mischievously as you see how upset Jason is that your daughter calls basically everyone nice to her “dada”, and go to him. He grabs you by the waist and drag you on top of his lap, to then kiss you. 

Viggo immediately looks away, and goes to his grandfather to hide both his sister’s AND Bruce’s eyes, that sweet little man. He then says : 

“Ew, I try to cheer you up and you answer with a sneak kiss attack on mom. So gross !” 

Once again, Bruce chuckles. He never laughed so much than in the presence of his grandchildren...But both Viggo and tiny little Laura were extremely funny and sweet, he couldn’t help but smile and laugh when with them ! 

Damian was coming in now, with a plate full of cookies (made specifically by Alfred so that a one year old little girl could eat them without any danger), and set it on the coffee table in front of the couch, before going to seat in-between his father and Jason, making the latter growl because it meant that he had to shift you in his lap and damn, the little sucker couldn’t sit elsewhere ? 

But Damian wanted to sit next to his beloved niece. He had a cookie in his hand, and with a fond smile that appeared on his face only when in the presence of his niece and nephew (like father, like son), Damian gave the cookie to Laura. 

The little girl reached for it cheerfully, and patted Damian on the head as a “thank you” (and if it was anyone else but her, Damian would have been furious), and raised the cookie up in the air. She pointed at it and, with a voice full joy and excitement said : 

“DADA !” 

Everyone in the room burst into laughter, as Jason’s smile was replaced with a vexed frown when he realized his daughter was calling a damn cookie “dada”...

The End (?). 

________________________________________________

AND BAM ! The end. I hope you liked it ? Don’t hesitate to leave a feedback and/or reblog ! It’s always very appreciated and encouraging <3 ! Also, I’m thinking of making a little “epilogue” to this story, just fluffiness and cuteness with Jason’s new little family. I mean, I’m convinced he’d be a great dad, so...kinda wanna write more about him with Viggo, and his little girl :). Anyway. Tell me what ya think about that too, and thanks for reading ! This was a blast to write.

Oh and I hope that all Jess story isn't confusing. I didn’t want to go into details about his backstory, so I hope it’s clear enough that he just basically owes money to the wrong people, and bam. That he had been living in Gotham all those years, just avoiding to see reader or Viggo. And that he did some stupid shit...Which prompted him to use reader and his own son ! And bam. Piece of shit alright. I just hope it’s not confusing and was clear enough, as I tried to make it understandable without going into boring details cause the story definitely isn’t about that asshole.  

[shedoesthings]

I Need To Know - Part Two

Thank you guys for being so supportive so quickly over this story! I appreciate it so much!

Part One 

Billy Hargrove x Reader

Billy was… interesting. Not that I was going to let him know that. He expected that. He didn’t actually present himself as the type of guy who wanted to get to know you for your personality. Yet his self-assured nature was something I always admired, its why my and Steve became such good friends. But there seemed to be an instant difference between Steve and Billy. Steve was self-assured in the sense of confidence, he used it to get to know people, a real social creature. Billy seemed to use it purely for self-gain, and by the sound of others I wasn’t exactly wrong.

“Did you hear he went home with Heather last night?”

“When did he even start at Hawkins?”

“Like two days ago, he just showed up in his Camaro like he owned the place”

“He’s been talking to Erica a lot tonight, she’s sure she’s in there”

“Lucky girl… I mean have you seen his ass?”

Its lovely to know girls can be just as bad as guys in this department. People are just pieces of meat to other people and if that doesn’t make me want another drink I don’t know what does.

I wandered over to the island in the middle of the kitchen which was covered in red solo cups, one of these had to have a drink in them.

“Looking for one of these?” I turned around to see Jonathan holding two cups filled with beer and a relieved smile on his face.

“You always know the right thing to say” I smile back, taking the cup he was offering me and taking a long sip. “When did you get here?”

“About five minutes ago, knew I’d find you hunting down a beer” he laughed. “And… I thought you’d stopped that habit?” he says with judgemental but joking eyes, staring at the almost finished cigarette in my hands.

“Oh, yeah… I kinda just stole it of some guy… I needed one anyway after his conversation”

“Who did you take it off” Jonathan laughed nervously.

“Some d-bag, Billy I think”

“The new guy? Someone’s got some balls. I heard he was gunning for Steve in gym today. Something about trying to take his crown?”

“God not another one. Why are people so obsessed with popularity in high school? It’s over next year, no one will give a shit if your prom king them”

“That’s high school though. Thought someone as smart as you would realise that” he jokes. I give him dagger eyes before breaking and laughing back.

“Okay Byers, shots…”

-----

An hour later and I am no where near as drunk as I would like to be. Byers could only do one shot since he needed to drive home later and there was something too sad about doing shots by my self which didn’t seem appealing. Me and Jonathan sit together making the most of it though, laughing at the others as they do things they’ll probably regret in the morning, and as for the guy wearing a toga, we’re taking bets on how many times he’ll throw up tonight. We’re already up to 5.

We laugh as his face turns green again and we know number 6 is on its way when I see Steve rush down the stairs and head straight for the door.

“Hang on” I say to Jonathan as I get up and quickly pull open the door before it can slam, following Steve outside.

“Steve” I shout, but he doesn’t seem to hear me. “Harrington!” I shout louder and he stops in his tracks, turning to face me. As I get closer I can see the tears forming in his eyes. “What happened?”

“Nothing” he say, trying to put on a brave face, blinking rapidly to make the tears disappear from his eyes.

“Steve its me, who do you think your fooling?”

“Can you just not, Y/N?”

“What?”

“Can I just have time to process something without you being involved constantly?” there it is. The real kick in the teeth. I was already feeling a wedge between our friendship, now it was just being smashed further into place by Steve himself. But instead of feeling sad, I just started to feel angry.

“Me? Being constantly involved? For your information Harrington, this is the longest conversation we’ve had in what feels like weeks. Every time I try and talk to you something comes up or something better comes along. You convinced me to come tonight yet this is the first I’ve seen of you since we got here, so go on, tell me how I’m constantly involved in anything cause I don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on with you right now but your not the person I know.”

He stands there for a second, looking down at his shoes intensely. He takes a second to breath and the waiting makes me want to march away but deep down I know he’s my best friend, and he’s in there somewhere.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” he sighs. “I just need to drive for a little while.” He says walking towards his car and opening the drivers door. “I know I’m your ride home, I’ll be back soon to come get you” slamming the door behind him he starts the engine.

“Whatever” I sigh, turning on my heels and walking back towards the party.

---

It’s been an hour of sitting on my own now and with my fourth beer in hand my blood has began to simmer down and instead is replaced with a more warming, fuzzy sensation. I know if Steve comes back we will need to talk but currently he is the last person I wanted to speak to. I thought I would be able to talk to Jonathan when I went back inside, but during the whole commotion with Steve, he apparently found Nancy about to pass out upstairs and took her home.

Instead I was just stuck here, in a house with people I didn’t really care about, not wanting to speak to a single soul. What a great night this turned out to be.

I decide to wander outside. The party was getting a lot quieter now, only a few people scattered around the grass finishing their drinks, a couple of others pressed up against the wall too involved in each other’s tongues to notice me stealing a cigarette from the pack which had been left on the table. I stand by an empty space of wall and light it.

“Why do I always find you stealing my cigarettes?” Says a voice. I look around the corner to see Billy standing there with his own cigarette in hand.

“Well, if you didn’t leave them lying around they wouldn’t be stolen, would they?”

“I don’t remember leaving my other one lying around earlier” he smirks, referring to me literally stealing it from his lips earlier in the night.

“That was just what we call karma”

“I didn’t do anything bad to you… yet” he smirks again, clearly having had a few more drinks since the last time I saw him since his words are slightly slurred, but still with the same level of confidence. I decide to ignore the last part of his comment. He’s clearly looking to get a rise out of me, even in my slightly drunken state its obvious to see.

“I’m sure you’ve done some pretty shitty things in your life, doesn’t have to be directed at me”

“You haven’t told me your name yet by the way”

“Told you, you don’t need it”

“Well you see, I think I do, cause I think we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other”

“That’s where your ridiculous confidence faults you. You really think that once Steve gets back to take me home I ever plan on speaking to you again? Your just here to pass the time”

“Your waiting for ‘King Steve?’” he mocks, blowing smoke out of his nose, almost making him snort. “What you fucking him?” I simply roll my eyes at him. His determination to get to me is flawless, I’ll give him that, but he doesn’t know me, and I plan on never letting him. “Didn’t think he’d be your type” he smirks.

“Shouldn’t you be off fucking Heather or something?”

“Oh so someone’s done their research.” He waits for a response, but he doesn’t wait long when he realises I’m almost done talking to him. “She’s old news. I have bigger and better plans while I’m in Hawkins”

“Fascinating” I reply sarcastically before throwing my cigarette out on the ground and putting it out with my foot. Enough was enough, and I’d definitely had enough of him for the night, maybe a life time. I walk away without another word, surprisingly he has no reply.

As I walk back into the living room I’m met with the depressing sight of toga man throwing up once again, this time in a vase on the windowsill. God someone should take him home. I’m just about to sit down when the front door opens and Steve walks in, frantically looking around before he notices me. He gives out a sigh of relief but I just stare at him coldly.

“I’m sorry” he says when he gets closer to me. I just continue to stare at him. “Ready to go home Y/N?” I decide not to give him the privilege of words just yet so I just nod my head. I know I would rather deal with the car ride home with Steve then stay here any longer and talk to Billy, so I walk with him to the door.

“I knew I’d get your name, Y/N” shouts a voice. I turn quickly to see Billy, leaning against the door to the garden, the rest of his cigarette hanging out his smug mouth.

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