#which member of the pack is he speaking to? fuck. could be any of 'em

[agwitow]

Alpha Wolves

content warning: swearing, mild violence

Marcus yawned, his jaw cracking, and shook out his pants. It had been a long night, helping two pups with their first change. They were already packed into their parents’ SUVs, fast asleep, and on the way to their homes. In a few months they would be good to join a pack. It wasn’t always as simple with new shifters, but those two each had a parent who was one as well. Even at eight and ten, they knew a fair amount of what it meant to be a lycanthrope.

Dressed in sweats and a light cotton long-sleeved shirt, he ran a hand over his jaw and sighed. Full moon changes always made his hair grow. Even though he’d been clean-shaven before the change, he had what felt like two-days of growth now. Shaggy hair didn’t bother him nearly as much as a beard did, though by the end of the three days he’d need to get that trimmed as well.

He padded barefoot into the little cabin that served as his base of operations while helping new shifters and started a pot of coffee brewing. He hated the stuff, but it would be at least a couple hours before he could head home to sleep, so he needed something to keep him awake.

While it percolated, he checked his phone. Three emails from work, two from the pack, and some spam. He’d just opened the first email when the phone rang.

“Porter Consulting.”

“Mr. Porter, it’s Deputy Palerma from the EKSD,” a male with a pleasant tenor said.

East Keddol was a small town several miles from Hapburgh, the city Marcus lived and worked in. It was in the interesting position of being almost perfectly between Hapburgh pack territory and Redview pack territory. Surprisingly few places fell into the odd in-between spaces between packs, and, as far as he knew, no one had developed any specific protocols for dealing with them.

“How can I help you today, Deputy?”

“We have a shifter—twenty-three-year-old male—who attacked his friends when he shifted for the first time. Miss Davidson recommended I call you.”

Kaelyn Davidson did for the Redview pack what Marcus did for the Hapburgh one. She was, if he remembered correctly, also a month or two out from giving birth. Handling an adult shifter who’d already hurt people was probably not high on her list of ways to spend her time.

“I see. Is your new shifter awake?”

“No. We had to hit him with a tranq to be able to bring him in. He’s changed back, but hasn’t woken up yet.”

Marcus snorted. Safety Departments were, mostly, better than the old police system, but sometimes they were still a little too trigger happy. At least it was a tranquilizer dart instead of a clip of bullets. “I’ll send someone to pick him up. He’s going to wake up before they get there, and he’s going to be cranky and hungry.”

“I’ve taken the class on shifters, Mr. Porter,” Deputy Palerma said, sounding offended. “There is a post-shift recovery kit in the fridge.”

He stifled a sighed. “If that’s all you have, that’s fine, but it would be better if the new shifter could get freshly made food. Eggs, nuts, oats, cottage cheese or Greek yogurt, and pumpkin seeds are best. Avoid meat, if possible, especially red meat.”

“I thought shifters need protein the morning after?”

“We do, and the foods I listed are all high protein items. New shifters can find meats to be… an issue at first. As I’m not able to speak with your young man at present, it’s better to be cautious.”

There was a moment of silence on the line before Palerma said, “Alright. Who will be coming, and when should we expect them?”

“It’ll depend on who is free.”

“Can’t you just tell someone to do it? You’re the alpha, aren’t you?”

Marcus had to grit his teeth to keep from groaning. That damn study from the 40s. “That’s not quite how things work. All pack members have proper ID.”

“Fine,” he said, the word ending with an annoyed click of his tongue.

“Thank you. Someone will be there between 10:30 and noon.”

Once they’d said their farewells, Marcus sent out a quick message through the pack’s group chat.

New shifter, East Keddol holding, possible alpha complex. Any takers?

He set the phone down and poured himself a cup of coffee, adding enough cream and sugar to make it mostly palatable, before settling on a stool at the tiny kitchen’s bar-height table. He’d drunk half the cup before a chime indicated he’d gotten a response. Two more chimes rang out before he’d picked the phone back up.

Eddie: I’m free but never handled an alpha complex b4 wdin2k?

Ksenia: lol take a muzzle

Julianne: y can’t the Reds take em?

Marcus rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighed, and replied: Kaelyn’s 8 mo. Pregnant. Take the green SUV, put him in the back, and keep the divider up.

Eddie: is it that dangerous?

Thomas: alpha-complexers are just assholes

Julianne: TOM! There are CHILDREN in this chat

Thomas: no regrets!

Marcus temporarily turned notifications off for the group chat, replied to the most important of the work emails, set up reminders for the other two, then headed for the cabin’s futon. By the time he’d make it to his apartment in the city, he’d barely have any time to sleep before he’d need to head back out to meet the new shifter. So he’d nap on the futon and feel stiff for most of the afternoon.

#

A little after 2pm, the rumbling and crunch of a vehicle coming up the gravel drive to the cabin announced the arrival of Eddie and the new shifter. Marcus set aside his laptop and headed out to the porch to greet them. He was still barefoot and wearing sweats and the long-sleeved shirt, but he’d run a trimmer through the beard so he felt less like a back-woods mountain man.

The car had barely come to a complete stop before the back door opened and a young man stepped out with a glower. He was around average height, with enough muscle mass to indicate he worked out at least somewhat regularly. Dark blond hair hung to his shoulders and a thick beard wrapped his jaw—though whether that was a stylistic choice or the moon driven change accelerating his hair growth even more than it did for Marcus was unclear.

“You Marcus?” the young man demanded.

He raised an eyebrow, crossed his arms, and leaned against one of the porch supports. “I am. And you are?”

“Joseph.”

He nodded and shifted his gaze to Eddie, who’d stepped around to the front of the SUV. “How was the drive?”

Eddie shrugged, his gaze darting to Joseph and then away. “S’okay. Wouldn’t want to do it again, though.”

“Don’t blame you. Thanks for doing it, though. See you next week for a run, okay?”

His shoulders relaxed and he smiled. “Of course. Later, Marcus.”

Joseph scoffed. “Like he would be any good.”

Marcus shook his head and stepped down off the porch. He was a little shorter than the new shifter, though broader in the shoulders and with more muscle mass. “You will respect each and every member of our pack, or you’ll be sent to Palstead Institution. It is not a pleasant introduction to being a shifter.”

“Whatever, man. Just give me whatever stupid speech you’ve got so I can challenge you.”

“There will be no ‘challenging’ here.”

“Fuck that. I ain’t no submissive bitch.”

“What you do or don’t do in the bedroom has no relevance to this situation.”

Red flooded Joseph’s face a moment before he took a swing at Marcus. He’d obviously had a little bit of training, but the movement was still too big to be truly effective.

Marcus side-stepped and twisted a little so that he had more leverage as he placed a palm against Joseph’s arm and pushed. It wasn’t a big push, but the kid had overextended himself and it knocked him off balance enough to make him stumble. He took a step back and waited for the next attack he knew would be coming.

Joseph didn’t disappoint. He came up swinging wildly, rushing toward him as if he couldn’t decide whether to beat his face in or tackle him to the ground.

Marcus calmly deflected each blow, leading Joseph in a circle as he side-stepped and backed away from the attacks. Less than a minute later, Jospeh was panting and struggling to even come close to landing any blows.

“Have you finished with your temper tantrum, yet?” Marcus asked.

Joseph glared at him but stopped, bending over with hands on knees as he panted.

“You seem to be under the misunderstanding that pack members fight each other. Different packs rarely even fight each other.”

“How…how do you know who’s alpha, then?”

“There is no ‘alpha.’ Not the way you’re thinking, anyway.”

“What?”

Marcus sighed and took a seat on the ground. The grass was soft and, thanks to a sunny morning, contained no hint of dampness. After a moment’s hesitation, Joseph slumped down as well. “Pack is family. Would you pick a fight with your dad to try and take over the family?”

“No…”

He shrugged. “Picking a fight with a pack member makes about as much sense. We each have a role to play, and that role is based on our skills and personality and knowledge. Not on who we’re able to beat up.”

“Aren’t we wolves? At least partly?”

“Yes. And that’s how wolves behave.”

Joseph stared at him blankly.

He sighed again. “Come inside. I’ll make you a tuna sandwich and you can read one of the brochures.”

Joseph followed him inside, silent, but with a simmering edge of anger beneath his exhaustion. Once the full moon was over and the forced changes weren’t sapping his energy, he would be a real pain in the ass if Marcus couldn’t nip the problem in the bud.

“Here,” he said, picking up a glossy tri-fold and handing it over. “Have a seat. Read. I’ll make the sandwiches.”

He settled onto a stool, shoulders hunched and brows drawn. “Why Alpha-Dog Theory is BS,” he read. “Seriously?”

“Mhm,” Marcus replied. “Some of the pack wanted to title it It’s Not Your Inner Wolf, You’re Just an Asshole, but that seemed a bit confrontational.”

“… Oh.”

“Mhm.”

(Moon-Bound - part 2)

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[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 32

A/N: Another ‘friend’ of ours makes an appearance in this chapter (unfortunately for me lmao)

August 2nd, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was as prepared as she could be for Game 1 against the Columbus Blue Jackets.  

Scotiabank Arena was freezing – more freezing than normal – because of the three-games-a-day and all the hockey being played.  She knew the players and team personnel would complain if the ice was crap (apparently they could tell, though it beat the shit out of her how they could tell), and of course Scotiabank Arena, and the Leafs in general, wanted to make an excellent impression.  They were the centre of the hockey world, so Aberdeen knew they could pull it off.  It just didn’t help that it was August and it felt like early November indoors.

She joined Brendan and Kyle in their usual box – luckily they didn’t have to give that up.  The team was taking their pre-game skate below and Aberdeen watched as William shot pucks towards Freddie in the net, sneaking one past him before skating around their perimeter of the rink a few times.  On the other side of the ice, the Columbus Blue Jackets were doing the exact same thing, though she barely knew or recognized a soul on the team.  One of them could walk by her in the arena and she wouldn’t know better.  

“How do you think it’s gonna go?” Brendan asked from six feet away from her, his black mask covering his face.

Aberdeen shrugged her shoulders.  “You should stop asking me these questions, Brendan.  I know nothing about hockey.”

“That may be,” he said, not letting up, “but you know the boys, on a level far superior than your knowledge of hockey.  So what do you say?”

Aberdeen thought about it.  She knew them on a personal level, but that didn’t matter at all – at least she didn’t think it mattered – when it came to a playoff game.  She knew how much pressure the guys were under.  She also knew that they were still adjusting to the bubble life and how weird everything was.  Make no mistake – they were being taken care of exceptionally well by the staff at the Royal York Hotel, and Aberdeen made sure she said a loud thank you to every worker she came across and interacted with.  She heard every single one of the guys do the exact same thing.  But she didn’t know how that would translate into a hockey game.  They were two different things.  They were to different entities that she had no idea how to join together.  

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, her voice soft.  “When you ask me these questions, I feel like you want me to be Nostradamus or something.  What if I said they were going to lose 2-0?”

“I’d believe you,” Brendan shrugged.

***

The Leafs lost 2-0.

“C’mon Nostradamus,” Brendan said as he packed up his clipboard and tucked it under his arm.  “The social media posts can wait.  You need to go mediate the post-game interviews and press calls.”

Aberdeen packed up her iPad after she rolled her eyes.  She shouldn’t have said anything.  She should have responded ‘They’re going to win 5-0!’ the first time he ever asked her that question and kept that answer throughout the entire season.  She followed six feet behind Kyle, who was in turn six feet behind Brendan, as they made their way to the locker room.  By the time they got there, Sheldon was nearing the end of his post-game speech.  Most of the guys were half undressed – at least at the top – and a few of them were shoving off their elbow pads and chucking their tape from their socks into the bins.  They all looked irritated.  

She made her way into the media room and set up the Zoom call where a bunch of reporters joined.  Morgan and Auston walked into the room, and she quickly typed in the chat which players were there so they could organize their questions accordingly.  Morgan and Auston sat down in their chairs.  

“Is Steve on the call?” Auston asked suddenly while Aberdeen was adjusting the camera.

“Uh, yeah.  Why?” she asked.

Auston pursed his lips together and shrugged it off.  

The interviews were going fine.  She hated hearing the sound of her own voice on recordings but she knew she’d have to suck it up for the sake of the media call.  She called on each reporter by name.  The boys answered their questions.  It was all very routine.  

“Steve Simmons from the Toronto Sun,” Aberdeen called out.  She waited, and while waiting, she saw Morgan’s and Auston’s demeanour completely change.  

“Uhhh, Steve Simmons, Toronto Sun for Auston – it’s one thing to hear about how tight they play, and to even watch the films of how tight they play.  What was it like to experience it?”

Auston took the lead.  “Uh, well I mean first of all, it’s unfortunate that I’mn getting a question from you at this point, Steve, but I just wanted to say I didn’t really appreciate the article you wrote about me a couple months ago.  I thought, uh, it was very unethical to be honest, but…uh, moving along…”

Aberdeen didn’t hear the rest of his answer.  Truthfully, she didn’t care.  All she could feel was a burning sensation shooting up her spine at Auston’s words.  He did it.  He called out Steve Simmons, the most annoying reporter known to mankind.  

She smirked.

***

After the media interviews, Aberdeen found a quiet space and took out her iPad again to post the final score graphic to the team’s Instagram page.  As she finished typing the caption – ‘Battled hard.  Back at it on Tuesday.’ – she heard some fairly loud footsteps behind her before they stopped.  “A girl?” a voice from behind her said.

She didn’t recognize it – and it wasn’t like anybody from the team would refer to her as “a girl” – so she furrowed her brows and turned around.  She saw what had to be a member of the Columbus Blue Jackets staring at her.  She couldn’t see it, but she automatically knew from the way he was standing and the energy he gave off that he was smirking smugly underneath his mask.  “Yeah, we exist,” she shot him a look, not ready to take any bullshit from him or anybody else.  The way these men thought she was a complete novelty astounded her.  “Have you never seen one of us before?”

“So Barzy was right,” the man continued.  “The Leafs have a girl in their bubble.  Incredible.”

Aberdeen could tell by the way he said and emphasized girl that this conversation – if you could call it that – was gonna be a doozy.  The guy was huge but didn’t look any older than she was, so she knew she would be able to put him in his place.  “What are you even doing in this hallway?  You’re not supposed to be on this side,” she said sternly.  “I suggest you leave and go back to your area of the arena unless you want me to complain to the NHL that your breaching protocol.”

From the very end of the hallway, another figure walked by, stopping at the gap when he apparently found who he was looking for.  Aberdeen could at least recognize him – John Tortorella, the head coach of the Columbus Blue Jackets.  “Pierre, what the fuck are you doing there?  Come on, we gotta go.”

The man, named Pierre, gave Aberdeen a smoldering look.  She rolled her eyes.  “Must have taken a wrong turn,” he said, loud enough so John would hear.

Dead set on not taking any bullshit, and just really, really wanting to put this guy in his place, Aberdeen didn’t let up.  “Perhaps you should remind Pierre of how to speak to the staff of another NHL team,” she said sternly.  Both men were too far away to notice how red she was getting, but she could see Pierre whip his head to look at her and his eyes go wide in shock.  “And perhaps he should read another copy of the social distancing and bubble protocols tonight in his bedroom so he doesn’t make this unfortunate decision again,” she said, deliberately using ‘decision’ instead of ‘mistake’, because she fucking knew this was no mistake.  She wondered what other rumours were swirling in the Royal York about a girl being in the Leafs bubble.  

Pierre scurried to the end of the hallway.  From her spot, she could hear John chuckle.  “You must be the Aberdeen Bloom I’ve only ever heard good things about,” he said.  “Keep it up.  I might ask you to take my place to keep the boys in line.”

She couldn’t help but smile.  Pierre took one last look between his coach and ‘the girl’.  “I could take ‘em,” Aberdeen commented, getting a nod from John before he and Pierre disappeared.  

She let out a breath.  

***

After the team got back to the hotel, picked up their pre-packaged dinner, and settled into their rooms, Aberdeen showered and changed.  She sat at the desk where she put the meal and took out her phone.  She sent some quick texts to her parents, Siena, and Camden before bringing up William’s name.

U up?

lmao minskatt isnt that what i should be saying to u *wink emoji*

Do you want to eat dinner together?

of course

I’m ready whenever you are babe

She waited for him to start the call.  Not even two minutes later, her phone began to ring and “Head Empty” flashed across the screen.  She accepted the FaceTime call almost immediately.  When it connected and he appeared on her screen, walking in his hotel room with his bathrobe on and his hair wet and tied back, she smiled.  “Hi.”

“Hi minskatt,” he said, his voice low.  She watched as he put a pair of headphones on.  “That’s better.”

Hers were already in.  “I’m sorry about the game tonight,” she said, perching her phone on a high point on the desk.  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

He shrugged.  “Not really.  At least, not right now,” he said, putting his phone down too.  “Maybe later.  Like, after we have dinner.”

“Promise me we will.”

“I promise,” he said, looking into the phone.  He knew she would want him to talk about it, and he made her a promise all those months ago.  He would never break it.  “Right now I just want to have dinner over FaceTime with my girlfriend even though we’re less than fifty feet away from each other.”

Aberdeen chuckled, if only because she agreed wholeheartedly that this whole thing was ridiculous.  The tone of William’s voice made her know that he thought it completely ridiculous too.  “It’s hard.  I know.  At least we get free food,” she held up a forkful of the marinated chicken breast.  “And good food.  It’s not like it’s airplane food.”

William smiled slightly.  “First thing I do when we get out of here is bring you to Canoe or Ardo or Miku and splurge on every meal they have on the menu,” he said.  

“Sounds good to me.  Maybe by then I’ll have a new job to celebrate, anyway.”

“How’s the article coming along?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said.  She’s started in the other day and already had about 1500 words worth of material.  She figured the best way to go about it was keep a sort of diary every day and then edit it down when she could.  “Might talk about how fucking awkward you hockey boys are these days with women.”

“I’m excluded from that, right?” he asked.  “I mean, I totally swept you off your feet when we first met.”

She couldn’t help but smile.  “You did.”

***

August 3rd, 2020

Aberdeen accompanied the team to one of the workout facilities just so she could catch a glimpse of sone sunshine on the day off.  Instead of working out, she sat on the sidelines of where all the equipment was and the boys worked out, furiously typing away on her personal laptop.  Every so often when she’d glance up, she’d see Morgan’s thighs almost ripping through his shorts as he did some lunges; she’d see Auston’s biceps almost bursting through his sleeves as he lifted weights above his head; she’d see William’s thick torso exposed as his shirt rode up from him throwing a heavy medicine ball above his head.  

A million girls in this city would kill her to be in her position.

And here she was, writing 10,000 words about them instead of ogling them.  Well, everyone except her secret boyfriend.

***

August 4th, 2020

Game 2.  

Aberdeen was confident that the boys would respond to Columbus’s win in Game 1.  She could tell in their energy throughout the day and in the arena they were ready and they were ready to win.  

“Hey Nostradamus,” Brendan called out, winking.  Aberdeen saw Kyle chuckle from behind his mask.  “What’s the score gonna be?”

“Oh shut it,” she shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest and smirking to herself.  Except she couldn’t hold her tongue.  “3-0, but this time for us.”

“I believe her!” Kyle piped up.  

Brendan snorted.  “Who’s placing bets?!”

The bell rang and everybody settled down to stand for the anthem.  As the game got underway, Aberdeen could feel rushes of electricity move up her spine every time the Leafs touched the puck.  They were playing phenomenally.  They looked focused, into it, and like a complete team.  It was a night and day difference from Game 1.  Though the first period didn’t have any goals, Aberdeen knew they’d be coming – for the Leafs only.

In the second period Auston scored and Aberdeen jumped out of her seat to celebrate.  And when John scored late in the third period to get a two goal lead, she was even happier.  

Then, with less than two minutes left, disaster hit.  

It was a play behind the net.  Pierre Luc Dubois – the guy from the other day, Aberdeen had learned – basically cross-checked Jake Muzzin, and Jake fell awkwardly, trying to break it, with his head hitting a Blue Jackets player’s leg.  He fell to the ice.  

He wasn’t getting up.  And the referee hadn’t blown the whistle.  

Those fuckers.

“BLOW THE FUCKING WHISTLE!!!” Aberdeen screamed at the top of her lungs, startling Brendan and Kyle.  Her face was turning red.  She was sure she’d been so loud the referee actually heard her, because he finally blew it.  Jake was having a hard time getting up, and then he lay back down.  One of the trainers immediately made his way onto the ice, rushing towards Jake.

The replays began to play from every angle, and Aberdeen watched on the TV screen in the box how his head and neck contorted once he hit the player’s thigh.  She had tears in her eyes as she watched the worst angles.  She looked back out onto the ice to see Jake still lying there.  The trainer was still with him, though more were making their way onto the ice now.  Then, she saw one of the trainers put his hands near Jake’s neck.  They called for a stretcher.  

She bolted out of her seat.

“Aberdeen!” she could hear Brendan call out after her, but she didn’t listen.  She didn’t turn around.  She hurried down to ice level, her mind running a mile a minute, and flashed her credentials to anyone and everyone she needed to, not bothering to stop so they could actually see them.  

By the time she got to ice level, she could hear the distant sound of sticks tapping, letting her know he was being stretched off.  She met all the trainers and the stretcher at the entrance.  “Jake?!” she asked frantically.  

“Aberdeen?” he asked.  

“Are you okay?  Did you break your neck?!”

“I didn’t break my neck.  I can feel my arms and legs,” he said.  Aberdeen let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding in.  “Did it look scary?”

“Is that a joke?” she asked.  “I ran down here the second they called for the stretcher.”

“We’re going to take him to the hospital.  He’s going to have to leave the bubble,” the head trainer informed Aberdeen.  “You need to tell Brendan and Kyle.  Then update us on the protocol of what it will take to get him back into the hotel.”

Before she could acknowledge what was just said, Jake spoke up again.  “Aberdeen?”

“Yeah Jake?”

“You need to call Courtney for me.  Tell her I’m okay,” he said.  “She’s probably worried sick.”

Aberdeen’s heart sunk into her stomach.  Courtney.  “Yeah yeah, of course—”

“—You have her number, right—”

“—We really need to get him to the hospital—”

“—Yeah, I have her number—”

“—Call Courtney, please,” were Jake’s last words before he was stretchered off.

Aberdeen watched until they were out of her line of sight.  For a few moments, the images of what just happened flashed through her mind, and she momentarily forgot about everything.  She felt sick to her stomach.  Jake said he felt okay, but she knew hockey players always just said that.  Morgan had been playing injured for the better part of the year until he actually got injured.  High sticks to the face, lost teeth, blood drawn – these guys just put a bandaid on it and said they were fine.  But this was different.  

When Courtney’s face crossed her mind, she jolted back to life and grabbed her phone out of her pocket, scrolling until she found Courtney’s number.  The phone didn’t even have to ring twice.  “Aberdeen?!” she asked frantically.  “How’s Jake?”

“Hey Court—he’s okay—”

“He’s okay?!”

“Well, they’re bringing him to the hospital right now,” she said.  “But I was able to talk to him because I rushed down to ice level and he told me he was fine and to call you.”

“So you—you were able to talk to him,” Courtney said, her voice much calmer than just moments before.  “You saw him?”

“Yes.  He told me he could move his arms and legs,” Aberdeen informed her.

“Okay.  Okay.  Does that mean he has to leave the bubble though?  I mean can I go visit him?”

Aberdeen cringed.  “I don’t think so,” she said.  As she did, she could hear Luna being fussy in the background and Courtney trying to calm her.  “The NHL has an agreement with Toronto General about potential injuries.  If everything is okay and he comes back into the bubble, all he has to do is pass three negative tests,” she explained, listening to Luna get even fussier.  

“Okay.  Alright.  But they’ll call me, right?”

“Absolutely.  I’m sure Jake will even be able to call you from the hospital.  Our trainers all have their phones on them.”

“Thanks Aberdeen,” Courtney said, and Aberdeen could hear the relief in her voice.  She knew all Courtney wanted was to hear from her husband.  Luna let out a loud cry.  “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye Court,” Aberdeen ended the call.  

Families.  So many of them had families.  So many of them had families that were suffering and making do with a prolonged absence and Aberdeen couldn’t take it.  The players were sacrificing so much to be in the bubble.  And their families were sacrificing so much letting them go into the bubble.  She knew most of them had money – to cope, to do whatever, really – but that didn’t compensate for presence.  That didn’t compensate for having daddy around to play and snuggle with.  

She began to cry as she found herself walking towards the locker room, not even knowing whether or not the game had ended.  She didn’t really care at this point.  All she could think about was Courtney and Luna at home, worrying about Jake as he was being taken to the hospital.  To Aberdeen, nothing else mattered right now.  

She heard some commotion from the locker room and she knew the boys were back in.  She didn’t know how long they’d been back for, and didn’t bother to peek in to see.  She didn’t want to when her eyes were still red and welling up with tears.  Instead, she hid herself around a corner, crouching down with her knees against her chest, wiping at her eyes every so often and trying to control her emotions before having to go in, or getting called by Brendan, or by Kyle, or—

“There you are.”

Well, so much for that.

She looked up from her crouched position and saw Jason looking down at her.  He wasn’t completely undressed – he had all his UnderArmour on – but he was still sweaty from the game and his hair was matted against his head.  She wiped her eyes one last time before getting up.  “Hi.”

“Did you see Jake?”

She nodded.  “He’s okay.  He can feel and move his arms and legs or whatever.”

“Why are you crying?”

She knew he wasn’t asking to be insolent, but did she really have to have to spell it out for him?  “Don’t tell me you’re immune to this shit,” she said.  “I just had to call Courtney and explain to her that her husband didn’t break his neck and end his God damn career.  Luna was crying in the background.  It’s a lot, okay?”

Jason nodded his head.  “I know it is.  I’m not trying to…fuck, I know that came out wrong.  He’s gonna be okay, Aberdeen.”

“Thanks.”

“Come on, Aberdeen,” he said soothingly.  “It’s gonna be okay.”

She shook her head, wiping away the last of her tears.  “I know.  I’m just being a big baby.”

“No you’re not,” Jason said.  “You’re not being a big baby.  You’re being a human being.  Someone you cared about got hurt.  Do you want to talk about it when you get back to the hotel?” he asked.

She considered it for only half a second before she shook her head.  “No.  I know you call your girls every night.  I can’t take time away from them.”

“Aberdeen—”

“I’ll be okay,” she asserted.  “I promise.  I’ll be okay.”

“Aberdeen!” Kyle’s voice suddenly called out.  He rushed towards her with his phone in his hand.  “They took him to the hospital, right?”

“Yeah,” she nodded her head, trying to steady her voice and make it seem as professional as possible.  “He’s technically left the bubble, so we have to update the trainers on protocol to get him back into the hotel and how—”

“I’ll handle that with Brendan and Josh,” he interrupted.  “But he was okay?”

“He could feel his arms and legs.  That’s what he told me.  Then he asked me to call Courtney and I did that.”

Kyle nodded his head, looking – really looking – at Aberdeen for the first time in their conversation.  “Were you crying?”

“I’m going to be fine,” was all she said.  

***

“I’m going to come to your room,” William said through the phone in a strained voice.

“Don’t you dare,” Aberdeen chastised him, a new batch of tears having fallen down her face as she lay in bed.  “Don’t you even think about leaving your room, William.”

“Aberdeen, you need me and I need to be with you right now—”

“And you need to stay in your room so you don’t get kicked out of the bubble,” she said sternly.  “I’m being serious, Will.  Don’t come over.”

She watched as he bit his lip and shook his head.  She could see all over his face how conflicted he was.  It was one of the things she loved most about him – to the world, he seemed cool and unemotional and that he didn’t really care about anything or take anything too seriously, but to her, he was the entire range of emotions in one conversation.  He had a heart full of gold and she knew it would always stay that way.  “This is killing me, minskatt,” he whispered, his voice defeated.  “I want to be there for you when you need me.  Always.  I mean…you need me, right?”

Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach.  She didn’t know where this was coming from, but like some things with William, she felt like it was something that had been on his mind for a while and was only letting out now.  He was still learning to talk to her about his feelings.  He was keeping his promise from February, so she could appreciate that.  “Of course I need you,” she said softly.  “I’ll always need you like you need me.  We’re in this together.  You know that.  But you need to be on this team right now.  You need to help them fight.  This isn’t about me.  It’s about the team.”

“It’s always about you,” William said.  “You still don’t get it, do you?  It’s always about you.”

“Don’t make it about me right now, Willy.  It’s not about me.  It’s about Jake, and the team,” she paused for dramatic effect.  “Make it about me later,” she added, trying to be humourous.

It garnered a small smile from him, and she felt proud of herself.  “I love you, minskatt.”

“I love you too Willy.  Promise me you’ll get some sleep?”

He nodded slightly.  “I promise.”

***

Aberdeen’s iPhone was still in her hands as she woke again from its vibrations.  She jumped at the sensation of being awoken in the middle of the night.  If it was Willy calling her at three in the morning, she was gonna kill him.  

“Hello?” her voice was groggy.

The voice on the other end was not William’s.  “I lived, bitch.”  

***

August 6th, 2020

It wouldn’t be a Toronto Maple Leafs series without some drama, apparently.  And the drama tonight was how the team blew a 3-0 lead, allowing the Columbus Blue Jackets to win 4-3 in overtime, with Pierre-Luc Dubois scoring a hattrick.  That meant the Columbus Blue Jackets were now up 2-1 in the series.

It meant the Leafs could go home tomorrow.

Aberdeen tried not to think about it.  

She didn’t bring it up with anybody as they went back to the hotel, and she knew, judging by the looks on their faces, that they didn’t want to hear about it either.  Nobody would be turning on their TVs tonight, and she doubted they would check the news on their phones, either.  Maybe they’d play video games to take their minds off of it.  Or maybe they’d go right to bed and rest, since they had to do all of this again in less than 24 hours.  Fuck.

Aberdeen took a shower.  She washed her face.  She did her skincare.  She put on a sheetmask.  

Her phone rang.

She knew it was William, so she tucked herself into bed and accepted the FaceTime call.  When he realized that she had a sheetmask on, a smile broke out on his face from ear to ear.  “Nice sheetmask,” he said, biting his bottom lip.

She smiled cheekily and shrugged her shoulders.  “You’re used to it by now.  Shouldn’t come as much of a surprise,” she said.

“I am used to it by now and—oh shit, hold on, I forgot something…” he said, trailing off as he set his phone down so Aberdeen could only see the ceiling in his room.  Knowing William, he probably forgot to turn the light off in the bathroom or something.  But the longer he took, the more Aberdeen became skeptical of his whereabouts.  She barely heard anything on the other end.  “There we are…” she heard his voice.  And then she saw what he had on his face: a sheetmask.  He was still smiling from ear to ear.  “Now where were we?” he asked.

“William!” Aberdeen squealed, letting out giggles she couldn’t hold in at the sight of him.  He looked ridiculous.  It was clearly the first time he’d ever put one on himself.  “What in God’s name are you doing?”

“You love these things!” he tried to justify himself.  “I brought one because I knew I’d catch you at least once in here with one of these things on.  And if we can’t do it together…well, physically, then we can do them together in separate rooms.  Like everything else we need to do.”

Her cheeks flushed red – not that he could see.  He bought sheetmasks and put them on with her.  He gave her time to write.  He encouraged her writing.  He listened to her.  He cared for her.  He was even better than anything she could have imagined in a dream boyfriend.  How did she get so lucky?  How did she let guys treat her like shit before him?  She felt tears well in her eyes.  He was going all out to make the best of the bubble, and she couldn’t be more thankful.  “I love you so much, Willy.”

“I love you too, minskatt.”

“No…I love you Willy.  Like love you love you.  Love you love you love you.  I don’t even have the words…and I’m a writer!  You make me speechless, Willy.  There aren’t enough words in the English or Swedish languages that I can string together that will, like, tell you or show you how much I love you.”

“I get it, minskatt.  Don’t worry.  I feel the same way.”

“I don’t know how I got so lucky with you.”

“I annoyed you enough until I wore you down,” he quipped.

She giggled.  “You seduced me is what I’d call it.”

“I don’t know about that.  If I remember correctly it was you rubbing yourself against my thigh that morning.”

She made a face at him.  He made the exact same face back but crinkled his sheetmask so he had to flatten it with his free hand.  She watched him with complete adulation.  “Willy?”

“Minskatt?”

“Can we listen to our song together?”

William smiled.  He fiddled around with his phone and his ‘Minskatt’ playlist until the familiar chords started playing over the phone, filling the air with the nicest, best, most beautiful sound Aberdeen had ever heard – save for Willy’s laugh, maybe – because she knew this song was about her, about them, and it was still their little secret.

[btsqualityy]

Set It Off / Part Three

Jimin x Reader

Genre: Angst, mafia!AU 

Warnings: guns, robbing, murder, a minor character (i.e: a member) does pass away in this part so pleaseeeeee, if that makes you uncomfortable, DO NOT read this part! 

“Here, take your headsets,” Namjoon instructed as he handed a set to you and Jimin. Today was the morning of the heists, and all of you were at the organization’s headquarters getting ready.

“Hobi and I will be in constant contact with the four of you, giving you updates on the status of security and any police presence,” Yoongi told you and you nodded your head.

“How long do you think you’ll be able to get us inside?” You asked. 

“A minute and a half,” Hobi sighed. “Two if we get lucky.”

“Don’t worry hyung, that’ll be more than enough time,” Jungkook smirked as he finished loading one of his guns and cocked it.

“Jungkook, no happy trigger finger,” Namjoon said firmly. “Just get in, get the money and gold bars, and get out.”

“Alright, alright, I hear you,” Jungkook grumbled, and you couldn’t help but to smile at how genuinely disappointed he seemed. 

“Jimin, you prepared to help them out in case shit goes left?” Namjoon checked and Jimin nodded, reaching down and lifting up the hem of his shirt to show the two pistols that he had tucked into the waist of his pants. 

“Ok. Now, remember Taehyung,” Namjoon said as he turned to him. “You’re going to go in, flirt with the bank teller and get her good and distracted before giving Y/N-ah and Jungkook the go-ahead.”

“I got this hyung,” Taehyung smiled, taking his knife and sliding it into his sheath that was tied to his leg before pulling his pants leg back down. 

“Well, I guess there’s nothing else I can tell you guys,” Namjoon sighed heavily and you smiled knowingly at him. 

“Don’t worry Joon, we’ll be fine,” you assured him as you finished loading your gun. “In and out.”

“I know,” he smiled back. 

“Hey guys, I put a small emergency kit in the car that you’re gonna be using,” Jin announced as he strolled into the room. “So that if something does happen, you’ll be fine until you make it back here to me.”

“Thanks hyung,” Jimin nodded. “Alright guys, let’s load ‘em up!” After saying bye to the guys who would be staying back at headquarters, the four of you went out to the large garage, immediately going towards the Dodge Charger and getting inside.  

“Tae, try not to flirt so long this time,” you instructed him as you glanced over your shoulder from your spot in the front seat. “You flirted too long last time.”

“Well, excuse me for being caught off guard at the fact that that security guard was actually cute,” Taehyung pouted. “Too bad Jungkookie here killed her.”

“She was gonna call for back-up, the fuck else was I supposed to do?” Jungkook shot back.

“Enough, you two,” you chuckled. “Focus.” The rest of the ride passed in comfortable silence, the 10 minute drive to the KB Financial Group building passing all too fast, yet all too slow at the same time. 

Jimin pulled up to the front of the building, parking in a spot and unlocking the doors. 

“Don’t forget the code phrase,” you reminded Taehyung and he just nodded.

“I got it,” he murmured, reaching over and opening his door before getting out and shutting it behind him. You waited with bated breath as he opened up the front door to the building and walked inside. 

“He’s in,” you spoke into your earpiece.

“Great,” Yoongi answered, and you could hear the faint rapid tapping of a keyboard happening on his end. “Me and Hobi are getting the security system down now.”

“Hello,” you could hear Taehyung say through his earpiece. “I’m new in town and I was wondering if you could maybe help me...set up a new account.”

“O-oh,” you heard the bank teller stammer. “Of course Sir.”

“She’s so whipped for him already,” Jungkook snickered.

“It’s Taehyung, would you not be if you were female?” Jimin questioned.

“I am and I’m male,” Hobi laughed, making you smile at his words. A small conversation continued between Taehyung and the bank teller as she detailed all of the ways to open up a new account to him. 

“The hell is taking so long Yoongi?” You demanded to know, since it had been well over five minutes since Taehyung had walked into the bank. 

“Give me a fucking minute,” he growled back, followed by more rapid typing. “Got it! We’re in!”

“Tae, we’re good on our end,” you muttered into your earpiece. 

“You know, you are absolutely gorgeous. Would you like to go out with me sometime?” Taehyung cooed and you knew that he had heard you since he said the code phrase. You and Jungkook quickly gathered your guns, opening your doors before stepping out.

“Be safe baby,” Jimin called behind you, and you turned around to give him a small smile. Jungkook opened the door to the building for you and you walked inside, immediately sneaking up behind the security guard and butting him in the back of the head with your gun, effectively knocking him out. 

“Everyone, get on the ground! Now!” Jungkook bellowed and all of the customers slowly lowered themselves onto the ground. 

“We don’t want to hurt anyone, so just stay down!” You instructed, slowly moving through the crowd over to the counter, where the safes sat behind it.

“Go ahead,” Taehyung told you, climbing up onto the counter and holding all of the tellers at gun point. “Get the money.”

“Ok,” you nodded, lifting yourself up and hopping over the counter before instantly going over to the safes, which were already open. Pulling out a portable duffel bag, you set your gun on top of the safe and began to pack it with as many stacks of money and as many gold bars as you could. Once that bag was full, you threw it onto the counter next to Taehyung’s feet before proceeding to do the same thing with two more duffel bags. 

“Hey, we can only keep the wall down for about 45 more seconds,” Hobi warned the three of you. 

“Don’t worry, we’re good,” you assured them, zipping the third duffel bag shut and grabbing your gun before hopping up onto the counter again. “Grab a bag,” you told Taehyung, who nodded and did so, slinging the strap over his body.

“We all good?” Jungkook asked and you nodded, handing him the second bag and watching as he slung it over his body as well. 

“We’re moving towards the door, 10 seconds,” you said. 

“Doors are open, car’s running,” Jimin replied and you nodded slightly. You couldn’t believe that everything was going off without a hitch, and you started to almost feel foolish for doubting the job so much in the first place.

However, that feeling didn’t last for long.

“Holy shit,” you heard Hobi gasp. “Guys, watch your sides! There’s a security guard there!” 

Just as you moved to turn to the side, you saw the exact moment when the bullet hit Taehyung in the chest. 

You watched in horror as he immediately fell down to the ground, loud wails of pain coming from his mouth. 

“Tae!” You screamed, going over to him and covering his body with yours. “Jk, cover us!” 

“Already on it!” He grunted, standing in front of the both of you and shooting towards the security guard’s direction, managing to get a head shot which made the security guard fall over the railing of the upper floor and crash onto the ground of the first floor. However, more guards appeared, returning Jungkook’s fire. 

“Jimin, you’re gonna have to come in!” You shouted into the mouth piece. “Tae got hit and Jk’s covering us but I can’t pull him out by myself!”

“Here I come,” Jimin replied instantly and within seconds, he had busted through the doors of the bank, helping Jungkook by taking out a few security guards before he leaned down and picked Taehyung up bridal style. You reached down and grabbed the duffel bag that Taehyung had dropped as well as his gun, before running over and grabbing Jungkook by the back of the shirt.

“Let’s fucking go!” You hollered, making Jungkook follow behind you as the two of you run outside. Jimin had managed to put Taehyung in the backseat so you slid inside with him as Jungkook got into the front passenger seat. As soon as the doors shut, Jimin pulled off, immediately making a u-turn in the middle of the street before heading back towards the organization’s headquarters. 

“Hey, you still with me?” You asked Taehyung and he nodded his head slowly. Seeing that he was ok for the moment, you reached down and tore his t-shirt open, a large gasp escaping you involuntarily when you saw how large the gunshot wound was. 

“That doesn’t sound good,” Taehyung joked quietly and you couldn’t help but to laugh as tears formed in your eyes.

“No, no, you’re gonna be alright,” you assured him, reaching down and grabbing the small first-aid kit that Jin had packed in the car, pulling out a large amount of gauze and immediately pressing it to Taehyung’s chest. 

“Hey, shit went bad,” you could hear Jungkook speak into his earpiece. “Taehyungie hyung got hit, tell Jin hyung to be ready because we’re two minutes out.”

“How bad is it?” Namjoon asked and you could hear Jungkook’s sharp inhale of breath. 

“Bad,” he finally answered and you saw Taehyung exhale roughly.

“Hey, hey, let’s take this off,” you whispered, reaching up and taking off the earpiece that he had been wearing. “You’re gonna be fine.”

“You’re a bad liar, you know that Y/N-ah?” Taehyung whispered and you just sighed, more tears streaming down your face. 

“I know,” you admitted gently, reaching down and holding Taehyung’s hand tight in yours. Soon enough, Jimin pulled up to the front of headquarters, immediately getting out and opening the backseat door. You gently lifted Taehyung’s head out of your lap and moved out of the way, letting Jungkook and Jimin carry him inside. You managed to grab the three duffel bags and carry them inside as well, shutting the door behind you to see Jimin and Jungkook laying Taehyung onto a gurney that was set up near the front door, Jin already there with his medical supplies to take care of him. 

“What the hell?” Jin whispered as he worked on Taehyung. “What kind of gun did that security guard have?”

“A fucking AR-15,” Jungkook spat. “Since when are security guards packing like that?”

“I guess they are at the largest bank in the country,” Jin muttered. Just then, Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hobi came into the room. 

“How is he?” Namjoon questioned and Jin sighed. 

“Honestly, not good,” he admitted. “He’s lost a lot of blood and I can’t get the bleeding to stop.”

“Well, try harder Jin hyung,” Jimin insisted. “We can’t let him die!”

“Don’t you think I’m doing that?!” Jin shot back. “I don’t want to see him die anymore than you do Jimin, but it was a fucking AR-15! I’m not a god damned miracle worker!”

“Stop,” Taehyung’s now raspy voice spoke up. “It’s ok.”

“No the fuck it’s not,” Jimin said but Taehyung shook his head lightly.

“I knew the risks, and I’m ok with this outcome,” Taehyung murmured and you couldn’t help the sob that wretched itself from your throat. 

“Taehyungie hyung, we can’t let you go,” Jungkook whimpered. 

“You have to, or else you all are gonna go down with me,” Taehyung sighed. “Just in a different way.”

“Tae, are you sure?” Namjoon checked and before he could answer, you could hear the faint sound of police sirens. 

“I’m sure,” he stated firmly. Everyone moved over to the gurney then, whispering their final goodbyes before jumping into action. After Jungkook said goodbye, you walked over to the gurney and moved Taehyung’s fringe out of his eyes. 

“You’ll be...a good....mom, Y/N-ah,” he whispered and your heart broke at his words. 

“I’ll miss you, and I’ll always be sorry,” you cried softly.

“Don’t....be, because I....love you,...and... Jiminie,.... and the rest... of.. the... guys,” he hummed before letting his eyes shut for the final time. 

“I love you too,” you sobbed, leaning over and kissing his forehead firmly. 

“Guys, police are five minutes away,” Namjoon announced and that made you look up at him. “We gotta go.”

“Baby, come on,” Jimin said, gently grabbing your hand and pulling you away from the gurney. As he did so though, he stopped and stared at Taehyung’s body, and you saw silent tears streaming down his cheeks. 

“We’re gonna split up into three cars, each car takes a duffel bag,” Namjoon instructed. “Hobi, Jin, you two are with me. Yoongi and Jungkook, you guys in the second car. Y/N and Jimin, in the third car. Let’s go people!”

“Jimin?” You called out to him and the sound of your voice seemed to shake him out of his thoughts because he grabbed the duffel bag that had been sitting at your feet with one hand, grabbed one of your hands in his other, and the two of you ran out of the building. Getting into a new BMW, you threw the duffel bag into the backseat while Jimin started up the car and immediately pulled away from the building. 

Turning to look out of the window, you saw both of the cars that the others were in take two different directions from yours and you found yourself hoping that you’d be able to see them all again.

[meepmoopfanfics]

you don’t get a win unless you’re playing the game: Daveed Diggs x Reader. Chapter 2.

Reminder: this is gonna be a long fic! please be patient :)

You are finally ending an excruciating first week of dance rehearsals.

You’re gearing up finishing Act I finally, your brain feeling completely fried from all of the material given, especially the vocal parts. You were so used to singing the melody line of all the songs and being given the alto part was a challenge in itself, let alone applying singing while doing the choreography. The dancing was second nature but you didn’t realize how much stamina you’d actually need to getting the notes out without sounding breathy, pitchy or exhausted. You did NOT want to embarrass yourself in front of the OBC when it came time to integrate.

You had only worked with the ensemble closely so far and were getting close with Stephanie, the universal dance captain of the show. She had mentioned to you that the principals and ensemble members would be having a little hang out session at her brother’s penthouse apartment downtown after rehearsals ended tonight.

“Brilliant work today everyone. I know it’s been tough. But take the weekend to really review the material and let everything sink in.” Stephanie’s eyes were lit up. The way she was so attentive to detail and every backstory of every movement was so inspiring and eye opening.

You wiped the sweat off of your face as you partner, aka M3, aka George Eaker, aka Cedric, gave you a wink and a thumbs up. You were way too lucky to be matched with Cedric. If you jumped across the stage, somehow you’d trust him to catch you with seconds to spare before landing.

The ensemble cheered together and began to pan out to the house to grab their things and head up to their dressing rooms to get ready for the party.

“Is everyone coming tonight?” Stephanie yelled excitedly.

You heard a cannon of yeses and hell yeahs around the group.

“The wolfpack’s coming too!” That was her nickname for the OBC crew. “It’s gonna be a raaaaaager!” She started gyrating her hips. Everyone erupted with laughter.

“A safe one at that, of course. Be on your best behavior around Lin… just kidding he’s an absolute child.

Alright now go, get out. Go get hot.”

You followed the ensemble up the stairs backstage to end up at your dressing room which you shared with W4, Michelle.

“Girl... what’re ya wearing tonight? I can’t decide.” Michelle asked while anxiously rummaging through her back full of scribbled on legal pads, muscle rollers, and random items of clothing.

You had packed your favorite black jeans that made your legs look flawless, your signature suede boots, and a Kith hoodie. You wanted to look put together but also casual and cool. Most importantly, you wanted to impress all of your idols. This was your only chance to give them the best first impression of you.

You thought about grabbing your Oakland sweatshirt that your parents got you as a gag gift for Christmas, in honor of your celebrity crush’s hometown. You immediately regretted even thinking of wearing it, as Daveed would definitely find it way too weird. You were from Massachusetts... not California. The Bay Area would be embarrassed for you.

“I just brought these little guys. All black, of course. Feel like it does the job. Also, the sweatshirt will let me eat alllllll of the pizza guilt free.”

Michelle stared longingly at your suede boots. “These are fuckin fancy!”

“They’re only Steve Madden!!” You were proud of your ability to find luxury looking goods for a cheap price. You don’t think that will ever change, even when you saw your first broadway check hit your checking account.

You were happy you could share a safe and fun dressing room space with Michelle and knew the two of you would become close friends.

You both ran into the shower room across the hallway, and quickly washed off. You decided you were going to straighten your long light brown hair. You loved your hair, but it got so curly and tangled when you sweat. Thankfully they were going to put you in a wig for the show instead of using your natural locks. Being a head sweat-er was the worst. Your makeup was minimal, as you looked best with a nice dewy makeup glow, with highlighted cheekbones. You wore a nude matte lipstick, which matched the natural color of your lips, and lightly liquid lined a cat eye over your big (insert eye color) eyes.

You saw your reflection. You didn’t know if it was the confidence of finally reaching your goal or if you just were having a good hair/makeup day... but you were stunning.

“Damn mama!” Michelle gasped as she saw your finished look. “Whose mans are you about to steal at this gig? Better not be Cedric, he’s mine.”

You laughed. You couldn’t help to think about who you already had your heart set on.

“Definitely not Cedric.”

Michelle opened her iPhone 11 plus and immediately opted for a mirror selfie. She quickly opened Instagram and posted it to her story.

You opened the app yourself to go check if it looked good.

Posted 32 secs ago

#MamaHam and #TheBullet hit the town 🎉

“Ready?” Michelle asked, putting the final touches of her gold Fenty highlight on her cheeks. “We should grab a quick bite before hitting the place. I plan on drinking my weight in Truly seltzers tonight.”

“Let’s get it.” You smiled. “I’ll call the uber.”

——

You called the uber, hopped in, and began driving downtown. You felt your anxiety creeping up on you.

“Trulys? Really? I’m gonna need to be doing shots of Jager in order to be able to speak a single word to any of these principals.”

“What are you... nervous? You already got the role. You’re equals with these guys.”

She wasn’t wrong.

“Guess I’ll just have to act as chill as possible. That’s the plan anyways... also Michelle, wanna know something ridiculous?”

“What?”

“I’ve had a middle school full fledged crush on Daveed since I can remember.”

She blurted out with laughter.

“Well girl he is on the market now. Shoot ya shot.”

You already knew this. Daveed was recently single and focusing on rebuilding himself up. His breakup with his last girlfriend wasn’t bad. It was mature and mutual. You knew he was taking time to himself, so you didn’t want to be overbearingly flirtatious when you first met him.

You also couldn’t stop thinking about your ex, whom you left last year around this time. His goals just weren’t lining up with your future. He hated musicals, he hated almost everything you liked... but you couldn’t stand the fact you shattered his heart.

“I’ll see what happens... after 5 shots.” You responded, winking at Michelle.

__

You arrived at the cutest little Italian place downtown in TriBeCa. You knew carbs and wine were the perfect pregame for this shindig.

After loads of pasta and splitting a bottle of wine, you began to feel the confidence needed to shake the nerves from you. You hit the bathroom to give yourself a double check before walking to your final destination.

—

As you walked up to the massive high rise residence, you couldn’t believe this was your lifestyle now. As you approached, you noticed an extremely familiar face exit the revolving door.

Holy shit, that’s Rafa.

Rafael Casal. Daveed Diggs’ best friend.

You stopped in your tracks stunned.

He turned his head immediately in your and Michelle’s direction.

“Y/N?! What’s going on?!”

“Shut up shut up shut up...” you whispered through your teeth. “Just keep walking.”

As he passed you both, he smiled, and turned into the Duane Reade on the corner. Probably picking up something he forgot.

You realized you would be on edge all night not being able to keep your cool. Rafa wasn’t even in the damn OBC and here you were, freaking out entirely on the freaking sidewalk.

Through the doors you went, passing the crystal clear marble floors, giant chandeliers, and up to the doorman.

“Can I help you beautiful ladies?”

Michelle blushed. The doorman was actually attractive.

“We’re here for Klemons? Penthouse 2?”

“Oh yeah! Hamilton!!! Love that show. Have fun!”

You hit the elevator as you looked down at your phone.

9:18pm

Perfect timing. Almost 20 mins late. Fashionably late, of course.

“Oh shit shit shit.”

You realized you haven’t changed your wallpaper from Daveed grabbing his crotch.

Michelle laughed as you fumbled to change your wallpaper to a pic of you and your family from when you were younger. Perfect. A conversation starter. Your overthinking was killing you softly.

Your teeth were legit chattering. You felt anxiety waves rush through your nervous system. The pit in your stomach grew. Your heart was beating a mile a minute. This was it. Your chance at something greater than you ever thought was possible to achieve.

The elevator doors opened to the open concept apartment. Voices were clashing over the blaring hip hop music in the dimly lit room. A full bar in the corner, Joe’s pizza scattered over the island in the kitchen. Beer pong set up on the dining room table.

There they were. Every single one of em. Scattered across the flat. Starstruck wasn’t even the beginning of what you felt.

Your eyes scanned quickly around.

There he was. Curly headed locks and all. Leaning up against the floor to ceiling windows that circled the place, holding a cocktail in his strong, large right hand accessorized with a few rings. Simply staring at the sights of the city. He looked like a million bucks and he was in a simple casual outfit. Light washed jeans, black boots, with his left hand in his black hoodie pocket.

Wait. You guys were wearing the same hoodie.

The same fucking hoodie.

Of course this would happen.

tag list:

@alexander-hamilhoe

[artifcial]

full name:  minsu ji  kitae hong nicknames:  ki, tae place of birth:  ████ current location:  ████ sexual/romantic orientation:  bisexual preferred pronouns:  he/him, xe/xem, she/her gender:  that’s between xem and god bro. i do not know.

one personality trait they’re proud of having:  kitae doesn’t feel pride in anything. what’s there to be proud of? you exist, is that not enough? anyway, minsu was proud that he’s caring enough to sacrifice his own happiness and health for his family. never said it was a good thing. defining gestures:  varies between who he was and who he is, but some things have stayed the same. he still runs his tongue over his lips when he’s deep in thought, fiddles with his earrings (or earlobes if he doesn’t have any in), clicks pens, and crosses one leg over the other when he sits. also, xe always seems to be  looking far away, like he’s not quite there.  speaking style:  soft voice, stern words. sentences sound like questions and questions sound like sentences. his speech is well paced, not too fast and not too slow. minsu was able to adjust his vocabulary usage depending on who he’s speaking to, but kitae doesn’t show that same capability and speaks like he’s fifteen years older than he is sometimes. insecurities:  kitae doesn’t feel insecure about anything at all. he believes he’s perfectly average in most things. minsu was a bit insecure about how well he was providing for his family. there were some underlying insecurities about his physical appearance but they were never weighing too heavy on his mind since he couldn’t waste time and be selfish like that. positive traits:  kitae is pragmatic, honest, selfless, and trustworthy (if we ignore the fucking chip in his brain) negative traits:  blunt, unemotional, apathetic, and ocassionally gullible. other people’s opinions of them:  minsu was often overlooked, no one really seemed to care for him and he didn’t work hard to stand out either. he was never seeking attention so it was fine. adults in positions of power (teachers, professors, doctors, higher ups on the ems squad, managers, etc) often described him as a quiet hard working kid that sometimes stuck his nose where it didn’t belong but he looked after everyone else no matter if he knew them or not so overall people had a positive opinion of him. as for kitae....well, his squad members think he’s strange and for good reason. they think of him as a damn good paramedic and not much else. if they ever talk about him otherwise, it’s because they think he said something weird and yeah they laugh at him that’s just how the world works. three words to describe them:  silly little android.

one major turning point in their life:  when his mom got injured and sick, that’s basically what turned everything on its head for him. minsu couldn’t really be a kid anymore. in the matter of a day he was carrying out duties no teenager should have to. it’s also what lead him to pursue ems instead of being a doctor like he wanted to. if they could time travel, when would they go?:  minsu would want to go back to the morning of his accident. not even to save himself, but to tell his sisters a few things beforehand, maybe pack some lunch, tell a neighbor to take care of the plants for a few days, transfer what little savings he had to his sisters. just little things like that. favorite way to waste time:  kitae people watches and minsu hates wasting time they’d rather be dead than have free time. given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?:  write. even as kitae, he’d write. i don’t think journaling ever left xem even as kitae. it’s an outlet for him whether he likes it or not. view on home and family?: minsu always valued family over himself. if his family isn’t fine then what’s the point? and home was wherever his family was, but he did place a lot of value in the house he was raised in, which is why he never moved out. if you ask this to kitae, he blanks. he doesn’t understand. he lives alone in a disturbingly clean, almost empty apartment. that’s home. home is a place to sleep and shower and eat. what’s family? he was asked about his family once and he just stared. he wasn’t given memories about that. he doesn’t know. it’s a foreign concept. any secret stashes?:  he absolutely fucking hates that he ever does it, but minsu did have a pack of smokes that he hid from his sisters because he’d lose his shit if he found out they were smoking. he didn’t do it often at all, just after a particularly rough day (which, like, almost every other day was rough but it had to be very bad) he’d sneak out to have one or two at 3am when everyone was asleep. his mom saw him sneak out a few times though, but she never brought it up. kitae doesn’t have shit.

how do they express themselves?:  minsu expressed himself through his journals. he had... so so many. kitae doesn’t do shit though.  what did they want to be when they grew up?:  minsu wanted to be a surgeon! he wasn’t sure of what kind, but something about trauma surgery seemed particularly thrilling to him. before his interest in medicine, he really wanted to become a marine biologist lol what do you like most about them?:  TT____TT i just think he’s very neat and despite the fact that kitae can be really difficult to write interactions with sometimes, its so fucking fun because there’s something always a Little Bit Off about them its kinda eerie hehe also i think he has great potential for development if i ever fucking write him

one or more plots you’re dying to have:

someone who knew him as minsu :p maybe an ex (or someone that was almost something to him? idek if he ever had a relationship lol) that finds him as kitae and is like wtf.....

unrequited stuff.... pls ... kitae is a silly goose he won’t even realize someone likes xem until they say they like xem.

errrr other human experiments :3

enough of kitae taking care of ur muse... let kitae (or minsu, i have a regular verse for him) be taken care of

actually let kitae take care of ur muse too

someone who knows what he is? maybe they’re sent by the agency that experimented on him to check up on him every so often .. see if he’s still functioning..... or sent by Another agency that’s interested in how the fuck kitae came to be

idfk im head empty just gimme plots

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘:  @shinizenchi​ thank u ^___^ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆:  i encourage stealing. if u wanna do it u can tag me :D

[potatoesandsunshine]

Campaign 2 Wrap Up: Anna Potatoesandsunshine Edition

Seemed like it would be fun to go through all the fan content I made for this campaign and try to find at least one thing I like about each thing! Kind of like looking back through a photo album. Under the cut because as it turns out, I wrote kind of a lot! (As in, 21 fics and 3 playlists kind of a lot!)

the sea, once it casts its spell (fjord speculation, what’s up with all this ocean stuff?? the fic)

The first thing I wrote for c2, wayyy in the beginning of things. We had no idea about Uk’otoa or Avantika or anyone at this point, it was pure ocean vibes for my favorite warlock. I really like how hard I leaned in on the “the ocean follows Fjord to land” idea.

so many things will fill my life (but only one will do) (post-campaign cali/jester fluff, written the night of the cali episode and so sweet it could rot your teeth)

This one is just good. I just did good with this one. I’m one of those people who hates their own work the night of posting and then when looking back at it goes, “Wow, this is great.” My favorite thing is the little gifts sent along with the letters! Cali was so fun and cute :)

when the dust does roam (Beau study up to Episode 42, 2k words of Beau poking at the idea of grief)

Best thing I did in this fic was have Caleb-through-Frumpkin bugging Beau about getting some sleep. They really... they’re siblings, your honor. 

“  “Fuck off, I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” Beau picks the bird up and sets him in the hood of her own cloak, out of reach of any weasels or startled monks in the morning. It’d suck to have to tell Caleb that his Frumpkin got eaten by Sprinkle.” C’mon guys, let’s do the sibling dance.

keep your swords out by your sides (the idea for this was, What If Fjord Has Nightmares From Uk’otoa Every Night and just doesn’t remember them)

Assigning everybody a word Uk’otoa had said for each nightmare in this was a challenge; I went into it knowing I wanted Caleb for Learn and Caduceus for Consume and had to guess the rest - for an angry eye snake Uk’otoa didn’t give us a ton of quotes. 

“ He reaches over and runs a hand along the wall of the ship. From his touch, mushrooms begin sprouting.” Caduceus starting to decompose the Mistake in the middle of cooking was maybe the best moment in this story for me. Like, yeah. Yeah. Ok you funky little grave cleric.

strange but not a stranger (Caleb & Jester, in the immediate aftermath of Caleb’s charm in Episode 55)

the first of my “the Mighty Nein won’t have these conversations with each other in canon so they have to be had in fic” ideas that turned into a full-fledged story. I still had not discovered the em dash at this point, so the formatting of this makes me cringe a little bit, but this fic was really about The Emotions Of Being Out Of Control which turned out to be a very big Thing for the Mighty Nein.

now this story was when swords were humble (fake academia mixed with a Yasha study)

Honestly I’m still obsessed with the AU I made here where Yasha was just awakening every sword she used without knowing it?? Why did I use that here only?? That might come back. But the best part about this fic is the citations; me at my most in-joke and ridiculous.

through the teeth of this tempest (Written in the immediate aftermath of Episode 69, Yasha internally trying to break Obann’s control over the course of a month.)

The most “I wrote this to cope with canon” fic out of all of them. I was crying writing this, I was so upset that Yasha was gone ugh just remembering it. Still waiting for past me to discover the em dash, I genuinely don’t know why I didn’t know how to do it and I’ve thought about going back and editing all of these but I’m just Not Gonna Do All That. Anyway, I really like how Yasha catches lightning with her sword in this. We all really manifested that happening.

nothing more than what the losers settle for (Time travel, a series of oneshots where each member of the m9 sans Caduceus went back to a different point in the timeline and murdered Trent Ikithon)

This was my longest fic for c2, so I’m mostly just glad it got finished. This happened somewhere around the time Matt released that set of notes that mentioned Trent in more detail and I hated him so much I just had to write him dying six times. That speaks for itself.

Revolutionary!Fjord was also a good turn. He could pull it off, I think.

we’re gonna show ‘em a thing, or two, or three (Jester growing up fluff!)

I really like how I did Jester & Artagan in this, even though he barely appears. Someone better at songwriting than me please write the Dragon Song. Em dash makes an appearance here but the formatting is still wrong. I Am Once Again Asking For Proper Use Of The Em Dash.

the best things (happen while you’re dancing) (Mid-Episode 97 Divergence, Jester taking the reins at the party + hints of jester/beau/yasha bc i still love my girls so much)

Jester’s a little out of character in this, but not wildly so, and it was for the purposes of a Trapped By Societal Convention plot that I wanted her to mastermind so I think it was fine in the end. I’m still fascinated by the way she unbalanced Ludinus Da’leth in basically every interaction they had, and while their scene feels pretty cliche in this... the cliches are there for a reason. They’re so fun to write.

Em dash my beloved, there you are.

plus thirty-one varieties of sacramental wine (The Galavant crossover that truly nobody asked for, Beau + the monks)

Yeah, this one’s just fun. Not much more to say about it. Critical Role and Galavant are both fantasy, but they’re honestly pretty different in tone, and it was fun to write Beau dropped into a comedy musical.

oh we were sea-bound and aimless at best (Purely angst, a What If The Fjord & Orly Resurrections Didn’t Work fic)

Made myself care about Marius with this one, y’all. What more can I say? Beau having to go from first mate to captain was just... deliciously painful, because she would.

lost my shape trying to act casual (Beau & Yasha during travelercon, another mid-episode fic, this time of 104)

Yasha comforting Beau, who feels guilty for not feeling guilty... That Mighty Nein wasn’t lying, Mind Control and Autonomy can be themes. Another in the  “the Mighty Nein won’t have these conversations with each other in canon so they have to be had in fic” tank. They really just... didn’t open up to each other for a long time, which made sense, but I wanted them to.

so long as you don’t mind a little dying (Beau & Caduceus, sometime in the peace talks arc)

Keeping with the Mighty Nein Please Talk To Each Other theme, I feel like I did a pretty good job with the late-night conversation energy of this fic. This was at a time when I was looking at Caduceus, can opener in hand, ready to make this firbolg open up about his feelings. Beau in this is prickly and confrontational but only in service of her friend’s well-being.

amber light, bending (Eiselcross speculation, Widofjord and all the messiness therein)

THE widofjord fic of my two widofjord fics. The blueprint. The better one. Finally I got the dynamic figured out. I maintain that the tower is an absolute expression of Caleb’s love for his friends. The way that neither of them have the braincell in this fic... yeah this one is just good.

and a blade between them (Widofjord happening... sometime.)

Okay so this is not as good as amber light and I will never be able to look at it and like it as much, but it was still fun to write. Anyway, the intimacy of shaving someone else. That is good. The tag “if they didn’t want me to think about the blood pact they shouldn’t have made the blood pact” is the most useful takeaway from this fic and is the driving force behind the Fjord/Jester/Caleb fic I’m working on now, so it wasn’t a waste of time or anything.

feel the ground beneath my feet turn into the sky (Post-Campaign Astrid-retires-to-Nicodranas, Astrid/Jester)

This is another one where I’m like “Yeah, this is just good.” Packed full of Wizard Fashion, Artagan making an appearance to rope Astrid into having a happier future, and the power of Going To The Seaside. Good for you, fic-Astrid.

spend your days biting your own neck (Role-reversal where Beau is the one mind-controlled this time and Yasha is the one chasing after her, set very early in the Tomb Takers arc)

So much of this fic is about not saying things aloud - Beau’s POV spends a good chunk on body language and Yasha writes multiple letters on paper and in her own head - but devotion bleeding through anyway because there’s nowhere else for it to go. The two of them go tumbling over a cliff together at the end but Yasha has wings, ugh. Yeah this was a good one.

and blow the dry leaves from the tree (Somewhere before the beauyasha date but otherwise timeline-nonspecific Nicodranas, Yasha & Yeza become friends)

Yasha & Yeza making pancakes together when neither of them know how to do so... is good. This fic is very much about grief sneaking in, but it’s even more about finding someone to share the moment with you. I think these two have more in common than we think.

oh, lend a mending hand (Caleb & Caduceus during Beau’s tombstone meditation in Episode 130)

I wrote this entire fic as an excuse for Caleb and Caduceus to hug and it does what it says on the tin. Got em.

it’s about the passing of measures (Beauyasha at the end of Episode 134, Aeor speculation)

This fic got extremely sidetracked because I rediscovered the marble machine during it and I do not apologize for that. I still really like the idea that Aeor as a whole, not just the Cognouza, is somewhat-alive. Too much magic and too much death for it to be anything else, in my mind. And I’m a sap for hurt/comfort.

the blumentrio playlist nobody asked for

If I think too much about how deep in each other these three people are I will cry. Made myself a soundtrack for those tears. 

the caleb playlist nobody asked for

what if this angsty wizard had a playlist of songs that mostly just... make me want to dance? that question was answered here.

the caduceus playlist nobody asked for

songs about home, leaving home, dying, changing, becoming someone new, coming home and finding it’s changed... this to me is caduceus.

yeah... this campaign has been fun!! I probably won’t stop making things about it; I still write about Vox Machina, for crying out loud, but... it feels good to lay it all out like this. It’s been a long few years, and it’s wild to be seeing the end of it now.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Sixty-Two

A/N: okay, this is the chapter a majority of you have been praying for. Good luck.

Words: 5.2k

Warning(s): explicit language, violence, explicit sexual situations, drug abuse

Tag List: @unknownoblivion  @sinningsixx  @edwardtriggerhandzz  @lemmyjelly  @haileynicoleseavey17  @cierrasixx19  @oskea93  @mgkobsessed  @vamprlestat  @sharon6713  @itsametaphorbriansblog  @miriampraez  @allie-mcginn @xpoisonousrosesx  @rebeccaphillips14  @nicholeh7  @fandomshit6000  @lilmou5ie  @tamedhearts  @divaanya  @kingbouji3 @evrsncnewyork @6ixx6ixx  @ratedrkohardychick91  @floregrohlssard  @oldschoolimagineblog  @thanks2pete  @abaldboi  @swoopygorl @justjodeye @liith-ium  @caos18blog  @ytwahsog  @shamlessobsession  @scarecrowmax  @toadspleen @random-internet-user-4471  @solohqrry  @loveofmyloif  @sparxx27  @kaitieskidmore1  @cruecifymesixx  @ijustwanttokiss70srogertaylor  @emmaelizabeth2014 @meetthesixxter  @sixxsixxsexx @sublimeprincesswasteland @arianareirg  @girlnight-terror  @mcnibberachi

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LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED

Nikki slams back yet another strawberry margarita as our food is set before us in the mexican restaurant, Doc, Fred, Rich, Ross, Donna, Emi, Tommy, Mick, Vince and Tansy all joining us at our celebratory dinner before Nikki and I are due to sneak away tomorrow morning for the next couple of days off to a location that has yet to be disclosed to me. 

Although I'll be surprised if we make it there and Nikki's still sober being that he's beginning to slur his words together. 

"Okay, hold up, picture." Ross states, grabbing his Polaroid and we all grown, wanting to eat our food. "Say, 'I'm so surprised these two are still married'." He jokes, and the second he snaps the shot of everyone of us smiling, Nikki's throwing chip crumbs on him, earning a blatant 'damn it!' that's got Nikki giggling like a little boy. 

"So, when does your flight leave?" Donna asks me and I raise my brows. 

"Flight?" 

"Yeah, for your little getaway." She explains as Nikki and Tommy start trying to out slur each other as they eat their food and talk. 

"It requires flying?" I ask her and her face suddenly pales before Emi is whispering in her ear, more than likely telling her I have no idea where we're going. 

"Oh…" Donna mumbles, giving me a small smile. "...Forget I asked." 

Before I can open my mouth to prod her about where exactly this location is, she's being swept back into her conversation with Emi and I'm furrowing my brows slightly, glancing at Nikki, who's already getting another freaking refill of his margarita. 

"Can we have some water, as well?" I ask the waiter, nodding toward Nikki and he looks from me, to Nikki, who's obviously not going to accept anything less than alcoholic. 

"I don't need it, man, just keep 'em coming." Nikki smirks to him and I shoot him a look. 

"He's drunk, he needs water, please." I void what Nikki just said and our waiter seals his lips together before going to the kitchen with Nikki shouting after him how he doesn't need water. 

I slip away to the bathroom to pee and touch up my makeup, returning just in time to hear a glass collide with the floor with the sound of iced water splashing, and Nikki shouting:

"I don't need any fucking water!" 

While Fred and Doc are shouting at him to calm down. 

I find our table in nearly a sprint in my heels, seeing a sloppy Nikki standing, nearly face-planting, about to get in the waiter's face. 

"Nikki!" I stop him, interjecting myself between him and the stranger, feeling absolutely horrible for how he's treating the man for just doing what I asked him to do. "Sir, I'm so sorry, we're about to leave if you could just--"

"--I'm not fucking going anywhere until this motherfucker apologizes to me!" Nikki demands, pointing over me to the waiter, everyone in the restaurant is now looking at us. 

"Nikki, shut up." Doc orders him as he and Fred glare at him. 

"Fuck you, Doc!" Nikki barks. 

"I'm so, so sorry." I apologize to the waiter as Doc and Nikki begin arguing, my hand slipping into my purse to grab a few stray bills Nikki gave me before we left home, handing $300.00 to the waiter for having to be screamed and pointed at so aggressively. "This is the tip, we'll pay the bill once he's out of here." I assure him and he looks at me, taking the cash, his eyes wide. 

"You can suck my fucking dick, Doc!" I hear Nikki outburst. "Just get on your fucking knees and start--" 

I'm grasping at the hand he's not pointing at Doc, tugging him to the door along with Fred's help and Doc stays behind to pay the bill. 

When we get in the parking lot, Fred's throwing Nikki to the ground.

"Stop it!" He screams down at my husband, the vein in his forehead sticking out. "You're being a fucking asshole, Sixx, just shut the fuck up and sober up!" 

Nikki's stumbling to get up, and when he does, he's punching at Fred.

"Nikki!" I scream angrily, stepping into range without realizing it just as Fred throws his punch, which accidentally hits me, knocking me to the ground. 

My cheek is throbbing, my lip busted open, and Nikki's hazel eyes widen before he's looking at Fred with merely empty irises, lunging at him. 

If Fred wouldn't have had a black belt, Nikki would have possibly killed him, but before he did too much damage, Doc was getting the two men separated while Emi, Donna and Tommy were helping me off the ground and making sure nothing in my face was busted up. 

I suffered a busted lip and a giant bruise on my face, which nearly got members of Guns N' Roses on a plane to kick Nikki's ass when I arrived home after the Vanity bullshit, before I explained to them that Fred had accidentally hit me.

"I'm fine." I assure Doc as he's making me hold ice to my lip as I sit on the bed back in my room, letting out a breath. 

"We don't need the press accusing anybody of being a wife beater, got it?" 

"Won't matter, whatever the hell we do wrong, it just makes people love us more." Vince mumbles and me, Tommy, and Mick, all look at him. "What? I'm not saying Nikki should start beating her, I'm just saying if this gets out to the press nobody will give a flying fuck that Nikki Sixx raised hell in a mexican restaurant. It'll just give us more publicity." Vince explains. 

"That doesn't mean it's okay, Vince." I argue and he rolls his jaw. 

The sound of the door unlocking has our attention and as Fred walks in, his face looks worried. 

"Nikki's passed out in my room." He explains. "Viv, I really am sorry, I didn--"

"--I know, Fred. It's okay." I assure him, wincing. 

"Nothing that can't be covered up with some makeup." Doc adds. 

It wasn't a big deal to me, honestly. I was use to covering up shitshows with makeup, fake smiles and laughter, and a lot of bullshitting.

I was a pro at the point, which would have to be severely executed in the following months.

Morning soon comes and although my face is kind of sore, the excitement I feel for my anniversary is nearly making me jump around on the bed I'm laying next to Nikki on. 

He's still knocked out in his margarita coma so I decide to get a shower and get my things together for our getaway. 

By the time I'm out, he's pulling himself back to life, sitting up in our bed while I step in wearing nothing but my towel, running a brush through my wet hair. 

"Good morning." I grin at him. 

"What time is it?" He asks.

"Almost 10:00." I reply and he nods. 

"Our plane leaves at 3:30." He tells me, getting out of bed, stumbling to the bathroom to throw up into the toilet. 

I wrinkle my nose at the sound, crossing my fingers that he gets a shower because he smells horrible. 

My wish comes true when I hear the shower start and I change into a tshirt and jean shorts before going over to our room to pack my things and Nikki's. 

When I get back, he's out of the shower, brushing his teeth, and when he's done is popping as many over the counter pain meds that I'll allow for his hangover. 

"So, where we going?" I ask him once he's at the foot of the bed, digging in his suitcase for clothes, his towel hanging on his hips. 

"I'm not telling you." He smiles, grabbing jeans and a RATT shirt, causing me to raise a brow. 

"It requires a plane." I explain and his smile grows. 

"I'm not telling you." He repeats, not giving me a second glance before he's about to go get dressed.

I catch his hand to keep him from walking away, my bottom lip being pulled at by my teeth as I tug him back to me and he gives me a crooked smirk when I grab the clothes from his hand and toss them aside, running my hands down his sides, kissing at his chest, down his abdomen, my hands discarding his towel. 

"Viv." He sighs out when I wrap my hand around his prick. "We don't have time for this." He tells me with a glint in his eyes and I start taking my clothes off until theres not a thing on me except for my crucifix and he lets out a sharp breath.

"Then tell me to stop." I whisper hotly, my lips brushing against his as I run my thumb over the slit in his cock.

He's suddenly grabbing at my hair, not enough to hurt me, before tugging me into the floor so I'm on my knees at his feet.

My mouth waters as he slides his hand up and down his shaft, liquid beading out of him, causing my tongue lick it up. 

"Fuck." He lets out with a satisfied grin, and I wrap my lips around him. 

"Sixx!" Fred's voice and a knock comes from the other side of the door and Nikki rolls his eyes. 

"What, man?!" Nikki says back, and I sit back on my knees, waiting for Fred to leave before I continue. 

"Open the door!"

"I'm a little busy right now!"

"Nikki, it's important! Open the damn door!" 

"Damnit, Fred!" He complains, going to the door, snatching it open. "What, fucker?" 

Fred says something to him.

"What?" He lowers his voice, confusion in his tone and Fred continues to speak as I give up and pull my clothes back on. "Are you fucking me right now?"

"No." I hear Fred reply clearly and I slowly make my way to them.

"What is it?" I ask and Fred glances at me as Nikki looks down at me. 

"Nothing." Nikki shakes his head and Fred raises his brows at him. 

"Dude, what the fuck is Vanity doing  in the fucking lobby?" Vince grumbles, only seeing Fred and Nikki, and when he sees me, his face falls. 

"Vanity's here?" I ask and Nikki and Fred shoot daggers Vince's way. 

"She wants to surprise you guys." Fred explains to me and I raise my brows. 

"For what?" 

"Our anniversary." Nikki spitefully hisses. 

"Ohhh." I say, thinking a moment. "Well, that's sweet."

"No, it's not. It really fucking isn't." Nikki states with a scoff, leaving my side to go get dressed. 

"I was thinking since she unexpectedly came to surprise the both of you, it might be a little rude to just up and leave her here. If you know what I mean." Fred explains, looking at Nikki and Nikki pulls his pants on and sighs. 

"Trust me I am one fucking step ahead of you." He assures him and I furrow my brows. 

"What? No. She didn't tell us she was coming. She can't be upset we had plans. It's not rude if we go do what we planned, and besides she'll be here for a while and we'll only be gone a couple days." 

"Vivian, you don't know anger until you've got a pissed off, coked out, irrational Vanity screaming at you with her finger in your face, telling you to hit her and knowing you can't because you're a man and it's not right to just punch the ever loving fuck out of women even if you really, really want to. Except you don't have a dick and hitting her would be socially acceptable, so you'd get into a fight with her and that's not good." Nikki warns me. "We'll just take a rain check on the trip. I don't feel like hearing her bitching." 

"Nikki--" 

"He's right, Viv." Fred takes up for him. "If you go down there and tell her she came for nothing, she's gonna flip shit and no offense, but you don't have a stable temper as of lately."

"Stable temper? Excuse me?" I hiss. 

"As of lately? That's it? Are you kidding?" Vince states and I glare at him. 

"Really, Vivian. Raincheck." Fred repeats to make his point and I feel my face fall in disappointment. 

"Hey, I'll make it up to you, alright?" Nikki kisses my cheek and I sigh out before nodding. 

"I'm gonna go back to sleep." I tell them, and Nikki steps out of the door. 

"We're gonna go meet Vanity and get her a room paid for." Fred explains and I nod. 

Vanity didn't come to surprise us for our anniversary. Her and Nikki had gotten into an argument and she strategically dropped by just to make him sweat over whether or not she'd really be cruel enough to confess to his wife what had been happening for over a year between them, on the day of his four year anniversary.

Everyone was losing their shit on the inside, even Doc, because they decided Vanity was officially a loose cannon (and threat) when she showed up that day to continue to tour with them for X amount of time. 

It wasn't a matter of "if" she had an artilary and was going to eventually use to blow every fucking thing to hell, it was a matter of "when" she was going to get an itch to pull the trigger over something minor Nikki pissed her off about, and open fire. 

The irony in it all is that she didn't let it out because she was angry at Nikki, but because she was so high on coke she actually forgot altogether he was still with me because she had heard him constantly repeat how he was going to leave me and marry her when the "Girls" tour wrapped up in the US, before he got sober from junk.

I'm waking up to the feeling of Nikki peppering my face in kisses, causing me to giggle, my lips pressing to his, causing me to hum. 

"Hi." I smile at him.

"Hi." He replies, laying next to me with a smirk. "So, I was thinking since we can't have our Mexico trip--"

"--We were gonna go to Mexico?" I ask, even more disappointed.

"It's only put off for a little bit, Viv." He chuckles. "But how about we spend the rest of the day together, and I'll take you out to dinner tonight--minimal alcohol so I won't be an asshole--and then we can come back, go swimming and then spend the rest of the night screwing the ever loving fuck out of each other." He proposes and I laugh at his enthusiasm saying the last activity. 

"Deal." I agree, kissing him again.

What actually ended up happening.

"Have you seen Nikki?" I ask Doc. 

"He just left with the guys, Tansy and Vanity." He replies. 

"What? To go where?" 

"Didn't say." He shrugs. "Hey, you look nice, where you going?" 

"Nowhere, apparently." I mumble, glancing down at my red dress. 

I go back to our room, glancing at the clock.

8:00pm. 

Nikki slept through the afternoon and then woke up, making me think he was going to get ready to take me out. 

But by the time I got ready, I realized he wasn't anywhere around.

I kick my heels off and shut the hotel room door behind me, going to scrub off the fresh face of makeup I just put on, and change into my swimsuit, hoping he'll be back before the pool closes at midnight.

Once 11:50pm rolls around, I'm giving up and changing into my pajamas. 

I wake up to the sound of the door swinging open, heavy steps thumping in to the bathroom before shutting the door. 

After a few minutes in the bathroom, Nikki's silhouette is making its way to the bed and I feel his hand reach out and run over the curve of my hip.

"I'm a fucking asshole." He slurs slightly, and I bite my tongue to hold back from crying. 

"It's fine, Nikki." I say, not having the energy to argue with him. 

He's quiet because he knows it isn't okay. 

I feel his lips press to my shoulder and I close my eyes, trying not to be upset with him, although I have a good reason to be. 

His lips trail up my neck to my lips, our tongues intertwining.

His mouth tastes like a straight shot of wine and whiskey, and I'm intoxicated by him in merely seconds, pulling him closer to me, pushing his jacket off of his shoulders. 

By the time his shirt is off next, he's pulling me onto him, my tshirt being thrown into the corner of the room, his lips immediately sweeping down my neck to my chest as my fingers thread through his thick hair, my head tilting back as satisfied sighs push themselves past my lips when he sucks my nipple into his mouth. 

I let out a gasp, my mouth pulling into a smile, the junction of my thighs grinding into him, causing him to let out a groan. 

My hands fumble to get his pants off and he takes his attention away from me to help me, tossing the jeans to the foot of the bed, his arms pulling my bare chest against his, his lips catching mine before he's pinning me under him, his devious eyes looking into mine as he presses a line of tongue filled kisses down my chest, his teeth grazing against my skin, his hands holding mine at my sides against the mattress and I arch my back when his tongue starts lapping at my clit. 

When he's satisfied with his work of bringing me to the edge of orgasm after orgasm, only to stop before I can finish, and leaving me a pleading mess that's desperate to get off, he's grasping at his cock and teasingly running it against my pussy before pushing into me, causing me to cry out in ecstasy as his face buries in my neck. 

Within less than a minute, Nikki's sweating profusely, his body purging liquor from his system, and I furrow my brows when he starts breathing abnormally, more like panting, and stops moving. 

"Nikki?" I question, the weight of his body that he was just holding in his arms while he lingered above me, is now crushing down onto me. 

His face is in my neck and his breathing is heavy, like he's asleep. 

"N-Nikki." I gently try to wake him up, to no avail, before I'm trying to get out from underneath him,which I have the same luck doing as trying to wake him up. 

Frustration and disappointment is fuming out of me, as bratty as it is. 

It's our anniversary and he fell asleep inside of me in the middle of sex. 

Tears gather in my eyes and I make one last effort to get him off of me, finally succeeding. 

I wince at the feeling of him sliding out of me before I sit up in the hotel room's bed, covering my naked chest, trying to figure out where in the hell to go from here. 

Deciding to just shower and pretend like this never happened is what I opt for before heading to the bathroom. 

The second I open the door, I'm hit in the face with that familiar, bitter scent. 

I immediately start rummaging for needles and sure enough, I find clean needles in his boot at the foot of the bed, and the bottle cap he used to heat the smack up in the garbage can by the toilet.

"No, no, no this is not how this is supposed to go." I cry out to myself, my tears finally breaking over my lashline as I sit on the floor in front of the bathroom door.

Nikki was sober from heroin, but decided to have a shot of it in celebration of his sobriety. 

As you can imagine, he never got back on the wagon for the rest of that tour, but he had lied to himself and convinced himself he surely would.

"It's okay." I lie to myself in the mirror, forcing my tears away with my fingers, taking deep breaths. "It is okay. Everything is okay. Don't be like this." I order to the tired girl in front of me, who's green eyes are beginning to lose their hopeful light now that their owner's husband is up to no good once again. "It was one time. He shot up one time. It's normal for addicts to fall off the wagon every once and a while. This doesn't mean anything. It is okay. It will be okay. He'll be okay and you'll be okay so stop…" my voice cracks, and I can't bring myself to continue to fucking lie, so I don't. 

I simply finish, saying:

"Stop, Vivian. This is not what we do." 

The training my brain's gotten over the years automatically responds to my words, my tears being forced back as I whipe the last of them away, letting out a deep breath, before getting into the shower. 

Once I'm clean, I check Nikki's pulse to make sure he's still breathing, he is, and I put pajamas on and decide to hangout with Fred.

When his door swings open and I see a brunette slip into the bathroom, I raise my brows at him. 

"I can come back if I need to." I tell him and he shakes his head, his hair and body wet from showering. 

"No, it's fine, c'mon." He steps aside and I avert my gaze as he pulls underwear on and slips back into bed. 

"What's up? I thought you'd be with Nikki for your four years together." He nudges at me and I let out a breath. "Hey, look, I know it sucks you two didn't get to go on your little two day vacation but it's not the end of the world."

"We were suppose to eat dinner together, he bailed. We were suppose to go swimming, he bailed. He finally got in from spending a majority of our anniversary with Vince and Tommy and Tansy and Vanity, and then proceeded to pass out inside of me while we were screwing around. I'm not just aggravated over not getting to go to a stupid beach for my anniversary. I'm frustrated because coked out Vanity came to town unannounced and we don't know when she's coming home, and now Nikki's unconscious and Tansy's probably in the same position, too, which I'm afraid is gonna get worse because Vanity isn't a good influence, and Nikki chose partying over spending our day with his wife." 

He looks at me, his expression solemn, before he reaches out and grabs at my hand, holding it tightly. 

"I'll kick his ass in the morning." He assures me and I smile a little. "Ya want me to go get some clothes on and we can go find some food?" 

"Yes." I reply. 

"Okay, Kid, I'm on it." He says with a chuckle, getting out of bed to pull clothes on. 

We end up grabbing greasy drive-thru, and in the midst of getting the food back up to the room, we run into Tommy, Tansy, Vanity, Vince and a couple groupies when we get to the elevator. 

"Where did Sixx go, Viv?" Tommy sloppily lets out as a blonde holds at his fluffy hair and kisses up and down his neck and I feel sick to my stomach. 

"He's married." I say as I tap the girl on the shoulder and she sneers at the fact she was interrupted. 

"Viv." Tommy complains and I raise my brows.

"You're wearing your wedding ring." I state. 

"I don't mind." The girl hisses at me. 

"No, but his wife sure will." I argue. 

His eyes cut suddenly, his alcohol laced breath hitting me in the face when he scoffs out, "fucking ironic coming from you."

Fred clears his throat loudly before Tommy can continue on, and Tommy shuts up as Vince gives him a death glare while Tansy keeps her eyes on the floor, and Vanity has the smallest little smile on her lips. 

Before I can ask what the hell he means, the elevator opens and Fred is pulling me in the direction of his room. 

"Don't fucking start shit with them when they're fucked up, Viv, you know that." Doc scolds me when we get in the room and I roll my eyes. 

"It just pisses me off. Vince is married. Tommy is married. They have wives." I tell him and he sighs. 

"I understand, but still. Don't be stupid. You can't pay them any attention when they're like that. They're completely different people than when they're sober." 

"Except Vince." I mumble and he let's out a breath. 

"Why don't you just tell Sharise and Heather, then?" 

"Because they've been my friends since grade school, alright? I love Sharise and Heather but I've known Tommy and Vince longer." I explain. 

"So, like, I've known Sixx longer than you so if he was screwing around on you, it wouldn't be right for me to tell you since I've been friends with him longer?" 

"Well...that's not even possible because Nikki won't do that." I brush it off, eating a fry. 

He takes a sip of his drink, not replying and I raise my brows. 

"Nikki hasn't done that, right?" I ask him.

"Would it surprise you?"

My heart clenches. 

"Fred, has Nikki cheated on me?" 

"No, Viv. He hasn't, alright? I was just asking that to put into perspective how fucked it is, is all." He explains. 

"Oh. Okay." 

I think if Fred knew what would happen three short weeks later, he would've gone ahead and told me the truth.

"Viv, it was one time, it was three weeks ago, I'm not on smack again, alright? It was a celebratory shot and that was all it was." Nikki groans, pulling his boots on. 

I hug the covers to my exposed chest as I sit up and he glances over his shoulder to look at me. 

"How the fuck are you so perfect?" He randomly says, smirking at me before grabbing my ankle and tugging me to the foot of the bed before he stands over me, his hand running through my disheveled hair and I try not to smile. 

"Mmhmm." I sarcastically let out in response to his statement and he snickers, kissing me, his thumb running over my bottom lip. 

"At least Vanity's gone." He adds. 

"Be nice." I scold him, again, trying not to laugh. 

"Two whole weeks of Vanity, Viv. We survived two whole weeks of Vanity." He proudly declares. 

Those two weeks were a nightmare. Vanity was excellent at not competing with the women in her industry, always praising them when an interviewer would try to make her say something against another woman in her business, but for someone who typically competed with herself in terms of success and stardom, she and Nikki were like two giant male lions trying to fight for the lead. 

She would get viciously jealous if he was getting more attention. 

She'd dance up on the speakers like a stripper at their rehearsal, and dance the same way in the photo pit at their shows. 

Everyone would be quietly telling Nikki "get your bitch's shit together for her, before I do" while I was oblivious.

Vanity went home a week before the show in Texas. 

Nobody knew that would be the last time we saw her before she completely damned everything.

"Yeah, we survived." I reply, smiling softly at him as he kisses my hand. 

"You wanna come out with me and Tommy tonight?" 

"No, me and Tansy were gonna watch Vanity's interview with Arsenio tonight." I explain and he wrinkles his nose. "Quit it." I lightly hit at his stomach. 

"What, the two weeks with her weren't enough?" 

"It's called being supportive, Nikki."

"Yeah, have fun with that." He kisses me one last time before heading to the door. "Goodnight, baby." 

"Goodnight, Nikki." I say as the door shuts behind him and I smile to myself. "Be careful. I love you." I whisper to myself, letting out a sigh before going to wash off. 

Tansy's soon knocking on the door and I get my PJs on and let her in before switching on the TV to tune into Vanity's interview. 

"Aww, she looks pretty." Tansy comments, seeing her beaming smile as she grasps her sister's hand as her sister is sitting next to her while she explains her dress. 

"Ya know, I bought this in an antique store in Newyork about five years ago. And it was just a block, like, it looked like 'grandma's' dress, really. And, um, I said, 'I think I can something with that' I mean it was only fifty dollars and I had it taken in." She explains, and I take notice that her sister is grasping one of her hands while Arsenio is grasping the other, and I realize what appears as her being hyper and excited, is really her being coked out, and they're holding her hands to try to keep her grounded.

"By a Japanese girl, she took it in." She says next.

"Well she did a very good job at taking it in." Arsenio assures her and she and the crowd chuckles. "Get the Japanese girl on the phone. I wanna talk to her 'cause she did a very, very good job. It's a beautiful outfit." He adds. "And it's good to have you here." He starts next. 

"Oh, thank you." She softly replies. 

"And it's good to have your sister here sh--"

"I'm getting married, look." Vanity states, taking her left hand out of Arsenio's hold and flashes a shining ring on her ring finger and my ears perk up, apparently Tansy's pulled from her drugged stupor, because her heavy eye lids pop open and her face pales when I look at her as I hear Arsenio comment, "okay, um, here's something for Jett magazine," going with the sudden turn of events presented by the starlet. 

"Did you know she was engaged?" I ask Tansy and she's at a loss of words. "I didn't even know she was dating anybody." 

"Vivian." Tansy's tone is dreadful and I wait for her to tell me about it, Arsenio cracking jokes in the background, causing Vanity's enthusiastic laughter to infiltrate the room. 

"This is a beautiful ring." He states, grabbing my attention once more. 

"Isn't it pretty?" Vanity agrees as he examines the rock on her finger. 

"You, didn't you--"

"--Nikki Sixx." She interrupts him, and my brows furrow even more, confusion taking over me. 

"Nikki." Arsenio hesitantly replies, and I think I completely missed the part about who she was engaged to and they somehow got on the topic of her friendship to Nikki, until…

"Yeah, I'll be Vanity 6 once again. Isn't that nice?" 

Arsenio is obviously just as confused as me, I hear some mumbles in the audience of people probably also confused.

It just takes one look at Tansy to know what the hell is happening. She's already got tears streaming down her face. 

My heart fucking stops, and my breath is shoved out of my lungs as if one of Nikki's demons has finally succeeded in getting me out of the way, his talons puncturing at my chest, leaving me clawing at my throat for air as my whole world shatters. 

[whirlybirdwhat]

Prompt: modern au (?) Gin wants to ask Sanji out, but he has to go through Zeff first

let me preface this with a HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIN I LOVE YOU!!!!  and a thank you for the request! 

Now, onto the story! Also read it here on ao3!

what you do for love

Gin has broken into a great many places. Some were worth it! Some were not. Some had the security of Fort Knox, and others were like an open door. He’s done it across the coast from east to west, but never, never, has he found a place so hard to get into like the Baratie.

And this time he isn’t even doing it for fucking Krieg!

It’s for Sanji.

Whom he likes, very much, and would like to invite on a date, thank you very much.

It’s not happening – different schools, Sanji has work, Gin has a job, Sanji’s taking down governments with his own gang, there’s never a time to get to him.

So Gin decided to ask him out at Sanji’s work.

Only… Gin had forgotten that the Baratie wasn’t only Sanji’s workplace… but his home. Where his dad and pseudo big brothers lived.

The first time he walked in to ask, he was met with Zeff, smaller than Gin but twice as muscular with a mean kick despite only having one leg. Zeff had given him a once over, taking in Gin’s leather jacket, tattoos, bandana and flyer to next month’s fight arena and promptly… did nothing, except give Gin a warm meal.

(It wasn’t the first time, nor the last.)

Until that is, Gin went up to go talk to Sanji.

Then Zeff swept his feet out from under him and sent him flying out the door, laughing.

From his place on the sidewalk, hidden by the high storefront windows, Gin heard Sanji asking “What was that,” and Zeff brushing him off.

Surely a fluke, Gin foolishly thought.

Only to find that the second time he went in, Carne was there, waiting with a strong hand to lift Gin by his collar and drag him out to the back-door entryway and throw him into the ground outside.

“Bye,” Gin could see Carne mouthing, mischief in his eye, followed by a swear.

Fuck off! Gin wanted to scream back but decided to rest in the ground instead, contemplating his failure.

Why, he thought, why.

He tried again, and again, and again. Zeff kicked him out the window with a first aid, kick, did a round of combat with flying kicks, gave him a warm meal then had Patty and Carne throw him onto the shallow beach outside.

Gin didn’t get it, because each time Zeff had this look that he approved of Gin, which, what.

Why was he kicking him out then?

Dads were weird as fucking hell.

After the seventh time this happened, Gin decided to get a little smarter, which leads to the current situation: breaking into the Baratie.

Which, as previously mentioned, is hard as hell.

He doesn’t want to get to the money, so he’s thankfully avoided the more dubious traps, but he’s tapping on what he assumes to be Sanji’s window and it’s not opening.

He questions why he thought this was a good idea, then remembers that Sanji did the same thing last year because he wanted to ask what food Gin wanted for his birthday, so this is just him returning the favor.

The windows finally opening, thank fuck, he was scaling the gutter for this.

“Hey, San-” That’s not Sanji.

That’s Zeff.

“Shit.” Gin says out loud and isn’t fast enough to dodge the kick that smacks him into sliding down the gutter.

Fuck.

Zeff gives him a wave, throws down and ice pack, and leaves.

Should have known Red Leg Zeff wouldn’t let anyone near his home without his permission. Hell, even the gang members follow his lead.

Gin sighs, staring up at the window which apparently isn’t Sanji’s, and decides he’s not being smart enough.

Or maybe, he thinks, staring at the straw-hatted jolly roger emblazoned in graffiti on the side of the building, I’m not being crazy enough.

-

Gin’s phone was destroyed in a fight two weeks back, half of his troubles with talking to Sanji, but that also means he has to track down the Straw Hats in person.

It’s not the most difficult task though – just look for the biggest commotion and you’re sure to find at least one Straw Hat in the fray.

Gin turns the corner, swearing to find a Straw Hat tonight, and runs smack into the Straw Hat, who is sprinting and holding a bag of what looks to be… meat themed jewelry? Gold? Gold nuggets but chicken nuggets? Gin can’t tell and doesn’t want to ask, but takes the opportunity anyway.

(The world always had a way to fall exactly into Luffy’s whims, and Gin supposes that if this must be happening it’s a sign of hope.)

“Straw hat!” Gin shouts, snatching out a hand and dragging Luffy into the alley corner.

“Bandana Guy!” Luffy says happily as Smoker rushes by the alley entrance. “What’s up? Sanji misses you!”

Gin lets a dopey smile bleed onto his face before speaking. “Yeah, I miss him to which is why I need your help right? I need you to bring your crew into the Baratie tomorrow, around sixish, and cause a ruckus so I can ask Sanji out, alright? Zeff and the others keep kicking me out.”

“They do that to you too? Shishishi! Sanji’s dad says I’m not allowed there without superpowers.”

“I think you mean supervision, anyway, will you be there?”

“Party at the Baratie tomorrow night, got it!”

That’s as close as Gin is going to get with Straw Hat, so he lets them go.

Time to get ready for action.

-

Gin should have expected this. He really should have expected this.

This being the Strawhat’s starting the ‘party’ whenever they feel like it, which is not six which was planned but five.

Gin sighs.

Whatever.

He can make this work.

Gin walks into the Baratie and, for once, is not immediately accosted by members of the Baratie’s staff.

Straw-hat can’t follow a plan but at least he can cause a ruckus. Gin looks to the left where the swordsman is balancing bottles of beer on his swords to raucous cheering, and steps to the right.

And then Gin spots him. Sanji, coming out of the kitchen, laughing and smiling the way he’s only prone to do around his crew (and Gin, on occasion.)

He’s not talking to anybody, just enjoying the chaos, which means this is Gin’s chance.

His only chance.

There’s a flash of yellow in his vision, accompanied by two flashes of white, and Gin knows he has to move fast if he wants to beat Zeff and Carne and Patty.

Gin runs, jumping over smashed glass and dodging around rushing waiters, all the while shouting “SANJI!”

Zeff trips him but he manages to turn into a roll, and comes up standing right in front of Sanji.

“Sanji!” He says again, out of breath but with a smile on his face, offering the carefully folded but now crumpled flyer in his hand. “Would you – would you like to go with me to Red Line’s Battle Arena on the twenty-third… as a date? If your family doesn’t kill me first?”

Sanji’s staring at him, and he hopes he hasn’t said the wrong thing. He had thought the date out perfectly, it was something they both enjoyed, food provided, near the sea, he had tickets to the booth seating so it wasn’t as chaotic as usual and –

Sanji cuts off his internal monologue with a smile. “Yes. I’d love to.”

Gin practically faints only managing to keep himself upright through sheer determination. He doesn’t know what to say after this, hadn’t really thought that far but—

“FINALLY!”

“Brat smartened up at last.”

“Now we can tease ‘em both at once! Boss, can we kick them both out?”

“Not until the party’s over. But yes. Eventually.”

“HELL YEAH!”

Gin is lost at the commotion coming from the chef’s around him, who have now stopped attacking him and started cheering for him.

Like… what?

Sanji takes pity on him. “They’ve been teasing me for months about you, trying to get me to ask you out. You stopped showing up so…”

“Oh. That was because your family kicked me out when I was trying to ask you out. Its been going on for a month. Tried banging on your window and everything but they literally kicked me out.”

“Oh.” Sanji starts snickering.

“Yeah.” Gin says to his boyfriends(?) apparent mirth at the situation.

Sanji snorts one last time before turning to his family and screeching. Gin swears there’s fire coming off of him as he yells “WHAT THE HELL YOU SHITTTY BASTARDS!? WHY THE FUCK WERE YOU KICKING HIM OUT? WHY ARE YOU THIS STUPID THIS COULD HAVE BEEN DONE AGES AGO AND-“

“It’s cause we like ya!”

“Yeah! We have to tease you!”

“Making up for that time you kicked me in the face.”

“And me! And the time you met the Straw Hat Brat!”

“Yeah!”

Zeff cuts in through the shouting. “Eggplant, you’re a bit short on the braincells. Had to make sure this brat was good enough to replace the ones you’ve lost. He passes. Welcome to the family brat, we got cake in the back. Straw Hat told us to throw a party, and I’m sure Sanji mentioned that it was your birthday today. Eat up.”

Gin gets a caked shoved in his hand and a hug from Sanji in a matter of seconds, followed by approving nods from the rest of the Baratie Staff as the Straw Hat pirates cause chaos in the background.

He’s bewildered. Confused. Bamboozled. Any other word to describe this feeling. Sanji just laughs at his face.

“They’re always like this,” he explains. “When Luffy first invited me to join his crew they thought pretending that they hated my food was a good way to make me leave and chase some dreams. You can see how well that turned out, but that’s just how they are. Hazing the new guy and me, at every. Single. Opportunity. Ugh.” Sanji’s complaining, but Gin can tell he loves this place.

“I can see that,” He says, and watches how Sanji smiles so brilliantly. “You want to escape this mess?”

Sanji laughs. “Definitely. Happy birthday, Gin.” He places a kiss on Gin’s cheek and strolls out the back door, waiting for him.

Gin smiles in return. “Thanks, Sanji.”

Zeff nods one last time behind his back before turning away.

Gin has finally passed the Baratie Bar of approval.

Thank God. That was exhausting.

[moon-ruled-rising]

as the rain hides the stars

read the full story on Ao3...

iii. the land was godless and free

she moves with shameless wonder,

the perfect creature rarely seen.

Since some lie I brought the thunder,

when the land was godless and free

-Hozier, “Foreigner’s God”

The great castle of Winterfell was much older than the other keeps in the North but unlike its younger counterparts, there wasn’t a permanent settlement around it. Wintertown was exactly as it sounded, deserted in the summer and packed full in the winter. When it was empty like it was, the royal family came out to play and the only place open in summer was The Smoking Log.

The little dive was a favorite of the young royals. They went so often, their security personnel never followed them out. Most times it was just Robb, Jon, and Theon, but recently they started dragging Sansa along. She was only seventeen (seventeen and three-fourths, she would remind you) but the owner of the Smoking Log didn’t care. As long as they paid their tab.

Thinking about their family dynamic it was strange how close they were.

From day one, Robb and Jon were built-in-best friends. There was a brief tension when their father decided to legitimize Jon. All of it stopped when Robb realized he could do whatever he wanted and would have much less stress on his shoulders. 

At first, Sansa wanted nothing to do with Jon and joined in her mother’s bullying. When she started secondary school and it became clear she could never have normal friendships, she started hanging out with her brothers. They taught her how to fight and drive and beat every game they played. In return, she kept them in line when they went out.

And when Robb came back from Barrowton after university, he started bringing his girlfriend Talisa with them. She was good fun and held her liquor as well as the Starks.

Though, they were all going hard and Jon wasn’t feeling like himself. The music playing over the speakers was too loud and he couldn’t decide if the lights were too bright or too dim. He could handle beer, but his glass that night was filled with whiskey and he wasn’t keeping track of how much he’d had. On any given night he would, he had to keep himself under control, but Wintertown was deserted.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re tipsy, Snow,” she taunted.

Only Ygritte was allowed to call him Snow. As the legitimized bastard of King Eddard Stark of the North, she should’ve referred to him as “Your Royal Highness” but they’d known each other for so long, referring to him as anything other than Snow was foreign. 

Ygritte wasn’t an official member of their entourage but she was friends with them since they were young. Her father was the ambassador for the wildlings living in the Gift. When he left the position and moved back, Ygritte stayed and started working at the tavern.

“Someday you’ll have to stop calling me that,” he warned.

“Aye. When we’re both dead and in the ground.”

The fiery red-head was always giving him a hard time. It was a second job for her.

“I’m good for another glass,” he stated, setting his down.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty.” she filled it. “And tell your brother to stop with the PDA, it’s grossing everyone out.”

Jon looked to the booth in the corner. Sure enough, Talisa and Robb were all over each other. It was drunk and sloppy and Jon felt the urge to vomit. 

“Would you like to join them?” Theon Greyjoy, always over confident and sleazy, asked.

Ygritte leaned forward, narrowing her eyes at him, “I thought I told you I didn’t like your kind.”

“Ironborn?” 

“Men,” Jon answered and took a sip of his whiskey. It wasn’t burning like it had at the beginning of the night. 

Ygritte reached over the bar to punch him in the shoulder and Jon spilled a little on himself. 

“Shut up, Snow. You know better than anyone I play both fields and I do it damn well.”

They both laughed like it was some great joke but Jon had to look away from her. Theon slipped away to terrorize some other single women.

Unfortunately for him, the only other single woman present was the owner and she was stern and middle aged.

The door to the bar opened and a group of men strode in. Ygritte groaned.

“Here they come.”

“Who?”

“Those three. They’re regulars and they love picking fights. Cops’ve been here every night to haul ‘em off.”

“I don’t remember them.”

“You haven’t been here in months, Snow. You’d better keep your head down, they know you’re an easy target.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve got a rep for your short temper. Not to mention you’re the crowned fucking prince of the North. They’d kill to be able to boast they punched the pretty boy prince. Better take my advice and stop drinking.”

Jon considered it but took another drink from his glass. Being young and angry at the world and having an intense weight on his shoulders made him a lash out in ugly ways. And even after his service on the Wall and learning to control his temper, the reputation still followed him. 

He surveyed the room again. There was supposed to be another red-head in attendance, but she was missing. 

“Where’s Sansa?”

Ygritte didn’t know either. Then he spotted her, walking past the gang of troublesome boys. His grip tightened around his glass and he could see the lecherous looks in their eyes. 

“Sansa can handle herself. Just relax.” Ygritte attempted to make him see sense but he was too far gone to heed her advice.

Without wasting another second he made his way to her. 

“Hey Princess, sit and stay a while,” one of them called out.

“No,” she deflected.

Sansa was loveable and fun and she never wanted to hurt anyone’s feelings. She could also be down-right mean when she needed to.

“Why not?” another questioned, his tone suggestive.

“Because I don’t want to.”

The men laughed, “That doesn’t sound like a very good excuse.”

“How’s this one? I don’t want to because you’re a bunch of sleazy creeps.”

“Only for you baby,” one of them winked.

She scoffed and walked away, but one of them got up and stopped her. It was clear she couldn’t control the situation anymore, so Jon stepped in.

“Everything alright Sansa?” Jon placed his hand on her shoulder.

She opened her mouth to respond but was cut off.

“Excuse you, we were having a conversation.”

“I think that’s over.”

“I think the lady should decide whether it’s over or not.”

“It never even started,” Sansa spit.

Jon put his arm out to stop her. They let out whistles, as if her aggression was a turn on. 

“Sansa, why don’t you go round up the others. I think it’s time to leave.”

“Jon, I-”

“Sansa,” he warned.

She sneered at the men around her but got out of the way. 

“Hold up, it’s the pretty boy prince they keep locked up in the castle,” the one standing in front of Jon noticed.

He was taller than Jon but that never scared him. Jon beat men twice his size while sparring with Sir Rodrik.

“Which one?” 

“The bastard,” the one in front of Jon leered down at him, “They put a crown on his head and thought we would be fooled.”

Jon shrugged their comments off. He was used to people putting him down for a decision that wasn’t his. When he was younger he broke himself trying to prove he was a true son of the North. He joined the military instead of going to university and served at the Wall protecting the ungrateful fucks in front of him. 

“Careful, you’ll hurt his feelings. Our dear prince is known for lashing out.”

Jon tried his best to control his anger. Nothing good ever came from the fights he started.

“Shame he’s so protective over his half-sister. We could’ve had some fun.”

There was no one there to stop Jon when his fist collided with man’s face. In the moment he forgot about the other two so he was shocked when a fist smashed into his face as well. Another in his gut and Jon was stumbling back into the table. 

The alcohol in his system wasn’t helping. It only made the spinning sensation in his head worse. The familiar metallic taste in his mouth was no more sobering than the punch that caused it. He saw Sansa coming back from across the bar with Robb draped over Talisa’s shoulder. Some help he was going to be.

One of the men got back in front of him. Jon prepared to throw another punch, but someone’s leg kicked out the attacker’s knees and gave him a solid kick across the face. Jon threw himself at the other man that was still standing, delivering an uppercut to his jaw and kneeing him in the groin. 

Ygritte came from behind the bar with a bag of ice and a clean rag,“I’ve already called the police so you’d better get the hell out of here.”

The Starks didn’t need to be told twice. Jon took the ice and rag while Sansa dragged Theon away from the bar and Talisa helped Robb to the car. 

“You should’ve let me handle it,” Sansa reprimanded.

“I’m sorry-”

“Those dumbasses are going to run their mouths-”

“I know.”

“And we’ll have a whole new wave of critics claiming you’re unfit for rule.”

“You won’t tell Catelyn, right?”

“I won’t,” she confirmed, “But I’m not helping you with dad, that’s your own battle.”

Jon almost forgot about the small council meeting the next morning. He would have prefered to miss it but his father expected him there. As the next leader of the North, he needed to experience them. But he arrived late and received too many disdainful looks.

He sat to the side of the room, never speaking and wishing he was invisible. If he remained still with his head down they wouldn’t notice his swollen eye. The lords of the great houses all sat along the table, sneaking looks at Jon. Roose Bolton, Duke of the Weeping Water and Lord of the Dreadfort, didn’t try to hide his distaste.

It was known the Boltons held an ancient grudge against the Starks. Ever since Jon’s ancestor Brandon Stark defeated them in battle and forced them to stop flaying their enemies. Jon was sure they never stopped the practice. It was rumored that Ramsey, Lord Bolton’s bastard son, had a taste for flaying small animals and Roose condoned the behavior.

“I think that’s all for today,” King Eddard stated, rising from his stately chair at the head of the table. 

He thanked the lords of attending and they bowed and left.

“You’re being awfully sullen, Jon.”

He arranged the papers in front of him. Jon ran a hand through his messy curls, exhaling loudly.

“Long night out?”

“You could call it that,” he grumbled.

“Do you mind telling me why you were late this morning?”

Jon stayed silent and tried to avoid eye contact.

Ned looked at his son and sighed, “Gods Jon, look at your eye. What happened?”

“I got into a fight,”

“Over what?”

Jon wanted to hold his tongue but Ned taught him to always be honest and do the right thing. And lying at that moment seemed like a bad idea.

“I was protecting Sansa,”

“You took Sansa drinking with you?”

“She’s almost eighteen.”

“Her age doesn’t matter, I know Sansa can handle herself. But you … this is the third fight this month. It’s a good thing Ygritte watches out for you otherwise we’d have an even bigger mess to clean up,”

“I’m sorry,”

“What goes on inside that head of yours?”

“It’s not easy being your bastard son who got lucky,”

“Sit down,” Ned commanded and Jon did as told, “When I chose to legitimize you it wasn’t because I thought you were lucky. It’s because I knew you were going to make a great leader.”

Jon huffed. Ned started the legitimization process when Jon was ten years old, there was no way he showed promise as a leader at ten.

“The North is heading towards a new age and she needs someone who will guide her through the confusion.”

His father’s words were idealistic. The North hadn’t changed in the past 100 years as far as tradition was concerned. Technologically, sure, but the people of the North were still set in their ways. 

“You don’t believe me now but you’ll understand,”

It sounded like Ned wanted to put a ‘soon’ at the end of the phrase but Jon didn’t question it. He wanted to get out of that room as soon as possible.

“Jon, your mother wouldn’t like the way you’ve been acting either.”

Ned rarely mentioned Jon’s mother. With all the information Jon knew about her one would think she never existed and he was born by some miracle. He didn’t even know her name and he didn’t think the castle staff would appreciate him running around, interrogating them for information on the King’s old flame. Especially Her Majesty, Catelyn. 

Catelyn despised Jon, though his only crime was being born. He supposed cheating her precious Robb out of the title he was meant to inherit could be added to his list of offenses. She should’ve blamed her husband for those actions but she took her aggression out on Jon. It was worse when he was younger. She would spit names at him as he passed by, exclude him from her children's lessons and sit him furthest away during dinners. As he got older and showed more responsibility and leadership, she relaxed. Mostly because Robb was still galavanting around Barrowton at university and Jon was serving time in the military. There was still the matter of her evil looks for no reason but some things couldn’t be changed.

“Why is it that you use my mother to condemn me but you’ll never speak about her otherwise?”

“Your mother … oh, you know I don’t like talking about her,” Ned remarked.

“I know,” Jon began, “but I would like to know more.”

Most people could at least form a picture in their minds when they thought of their mothers. The most Jon could do was a blank silhouette.

Ned smiled, “One day.”

He stood and began to leave the room. He paused in the doorway, “Oh, and Jon?”

“Yeah dad?”

“Next time you start a fight over a girl, don’t let her finish it for you.”

They had an emergency family meeting later that day. Robb was sure it was about the scuffle at the bar last night but Sansa disagreed. Part of Jon wished it was about that so he could know what to expect. 

They gathered in the library, the most private place in the whole keep. Sansa, Robb, and Jon all arrived together. Although they had close proximity with the Stark family, Talisa and Theon weren’t allowed to attend the family meetings. They were for blood related members of the family only, excluding Catelyn. As mother to the royal children it was her right to be there.

The library was ancient and still warmed by giant hearths. It provided a sense of weight and distinction. The place where the old Kings of Winter would consult the maesters in times of turmoil. Jon couldn’t help the feeling that a tumultuous time was upon them, why else meet in a place that carried such a reputation.

Sansa situated herself on the nearby chair, leaving Robb and Jon to stand beside it. Catelyn and Ned stood with their backs to the hearth which hosted a roaring fire. The North was never warm. It was still early summer so the snows were frequent and the temperatures were just above freezing everyday.

“Where’s Arya and Bran?” Catelyn asked.

The twins, as they were more commonly known, were always causing trouble. It was their nature. And now they both had driver’s licenses. Catelyn tried to regulate their time allowed outside of the keep but they never listened. 

Jon remembered what happened when he defied one of Catlyn’s rules when he was a teen. He was accused of being a bad influence on Robb and Theon, although it had been Theon and Robbs idea to go running off into the Wolfswood without a security escort. They paid the price in extra lessons on Northern history, complete with one of the longest essays Jon ever wrote.

Arya came through the door, running a hand through her short dark hair. Out of all the Stark children, Jon and the twins favored their father the most. Robb and Sansa got Catelyn’s Tully features. 

“Sorry we’re late,” Arya gushed, “Micha stopped us on the way in from the garage.”

Bran came bounding in after Arya. He was always slower than his sister but he kept up just fine. The two settled on the floor beside the chair. They made a pretty picture he was sure, all the King’s children posed for a regal portrait.

“It’s fine, Arya. But now that we’re all here we can get started. The King of the United Kingdoms of Westeros extended an invitation to their annual charity gala,” Ned stated.

“Why would they do that? We haven’t mingled with the south in a century,” Robb quipped.

“The cause they’ve decided to support this year is environmental conservation. Seeing as it’s a cause we support greatly, we’ve decided to attend.”

Sansa sat up straighter, he had her undivided attention. She was obsessed with southern culture and considered them much more interesting than the Northerners. 

“I will travel south with Jon, Robb, and Sansa. Catelyn will stay here with Arya and Bran. We should only be gone a week at most.”

There weren’t any complaints. Jon and Robb knew it was their duty to represent the North alongside their father. Sansa wanted to see the south, Arya and Bran couldn’t care less, and Catelyn knew she needed to stay and hold down the keep. She hated traveling anyway and Jon couldn’t blame her. Hours couped up in a car with minimal stops only to end up in a foreign land. He avoided it when he could.

“We leave tomorrow morning so I expect you packed tonight,” Ned addressed his eldest three then turned to his youngest, “And I expect you to behave while I’m gone.”

“It’s not like we’ve got the whole castle to ourselves, you’re leaving mom,” Bran pointed out.

Ned laughed and mussed his hair.

“And some expectations for behavior while we’re south. No fighting, no running away from your security officers, and as always, lots of smiling. We are their guests and we want to leave a good impression. Now go pack.”

“That wasn’t what I was expecting,” Sansa confessed as they descended the stairs.

“How are we supposed to entertain ourselves if we’re the only ones our age in the castle? The Prince and Princess are tweens.” Robb asked.

“There is the King’s sister but she lives in Essos for most of the year. I doubt she’ll come home for a charity gala. You know, I read the craziest thing about her this morning!”

[detroitbydark]

Moonbeams and Ridinghoods Chp7

Pairing: Werewolf!Haz/Reader, Tom Holland/OC

Word Count: 2100+

Warnings: None

Summary: In which Harrison comes to a realization that changes everything.

A/N: We're getting there lads. Slow and steady and all that jazz. Thank you to @aossi​ who convinced me not to delete the whole thing and start from scratch. Love you child of mine!

Harrison and Tom slump into the house. Training had been later than expected after issues at one of their clubs had caused the work day to run long. It was always something whether is was a personnel issue or a supply chain problem. There was always a proverbial fire that required attention. After going some rounds with Tom before  hitting the weight room everything ounce of him felt heavy.

“How you feeling man?” Tom asks posting up with his elbows on the kitchen counter.

“Fucking knackered. I want dinner and bed, one directly behind the other.”

Tom chuckles as he scrolls through his phone.

Harrison pushes his exhaustion to the back burner as rummages through the fridge for one of Emily’s prepped post workout meals. He pops the lid and inhales deeply. the smell of sliced steak and spicy mixed vegetables makes his mouth water but another scent hits him as well and he drops the Tupperware on the counter before looking over at Tom. The Alpha’s nose is twitching and he inhales deeply. 

“Cat is here.” He notes cocking his head to the side. 

Harrison smells her familiar scent, that was no shock. She was close with Tuwaine and, while not officially pack, she was treated as an honorary member. Cat’s isn’t the scent signature that makes his wolf take note. There’s another, far softer scent, sweet like vanilla. Tom doesn’t know who it is but Haz does. He’d know it anywhere. It’s Y/N.

Tom is not pleased. Harrison can see it instantly in the way his jaw tightens and his nostrils flare at the unfamiliar signature.

“It’s Y/N” Harrison clarifies and though Tom doesn’t seem any more happy because of the knowledge at least he hasn’t stormed out of the kitchen yet.

“I don’t like strangers in my house Harrison” Tom’s voice is low and even.

Harrison waves his hand in his friends directions “Last I checked we all lived here and yes, Tom, I’m very aware of your predisposition.” He feels irritation and something else prickling under his skin. He doesn’t miss the quiet growl as Tom pushes from the counter and stalks out of the kitchen. Following on his heels, dinner forgotten, Harrison reminds himself that Y/N doesn’t know pack rules. Emily did. This was Emily’s fault that he was going to have to deal with a pissy alpha wolf after a shitty day and try not to let you get mixed up in it at the same time. 

Tom is just a few steps ahead of him as he enters the movie room. Tom makes a beeline for Emily who is quick to rise to meet him. Harrison knows that look in her eye. She knows what she’s done, purposefully broken Tom’s rules. She unapologetic.

Harrison’s eyes move from the alpha couple to Y/N’s pretty face. Her eyes are glazed and her body is loose, head resting lazily on Harry’s shoulder. Of course. Emily got her drunk. He hoped Y/N hadn’t tried to keep up with Em and Cat. Their metabolisms could handle more than the average human could. If she’d tried to match the other women, Y/N was bound to be hating life in the morning. 

Harrison levels a glare at Emily who. Leaning past Tom, the alpha female waves the tips of her fingers and blows a kiss.  Tom steps in front of her, blocking Harrison’s single fingered gesture. An irritated growl rises in his throat. Unable to get at Emily his eyes narrow in on Harry next. To be sure he knew who he had his arm around.  Even if he hadn’t  laid a proper claim, his own packmate should have enough sense not to mess with the woman he was… What was he doing with Y/N? He’d tried hard to be practical when thinking about her. She wasn’t like him. They had a code of secrecy to maintain. She probably wasn’t even going to be staying. Even with all that and more he couldn’t keep his feelings out of the mix. His wolf, his other half, knew exactly what she was. Harrison, the man, was just being slow to accept it. 

 His head throbs dully.  Harry’s eyes go wide as catches Harrison 's.  He dislodges his arm around Y/N’s shoulder, moving quickly away. That’s when she decides to finally notice him. Her eyes brighten and a smile slips across her lips. It’s instantaneous, Harrison’s irritation shifts to delight. 

“Haz!” Y/N slurs excitedly. 

Harry moves close to Harrison, his eyes cast toward the ground. He freezes when Harrison’s hand clamps around his shoulder and fixes him with a look. A  quick explanation tumbles from his lips. 

“No funny business,man.” He holds his hands up. “I stopped her from getting any worse off.” he points between Em and Cat. “No thanks to these two. You know I would never-”

Harrison holds up a hand. Taking a steadying breath he nods and the two come together, touching foreheads in a quick greeting before Harry's eyes are darting across the room from his brother to his future sister-in-law. The two are close and their voices are low and angry.  Everyone feels the crackle of tension between them. 

“Christ Emily we’ve talked about this!” Tom snarls. His body is tense, muscles coiled tight as he waves a hand in Y/N’s direction. Harrison feels his hackles raise.

“Get off of it Thomas.” Emily’s prim tone was a well crafted ploy to irritate the piss out of her mate. He hated when she did it, hated it even more when she called him ‘Thomas’. She turns to move away and Tom’s hand wraps around her upper arm. She tries to shake him off but he holds firm. 

“Rules are in place for a reason. You know this!” His hand runs roughly through his hair, his eyes close and he takes a deep breath before refocusing on Em.  “Come on, do you think i do this shit because I want too? It’s to protect this family. To protect you!” Emily jerks away, teeth bared. 

“To protect me? You’re the reason I am who I am Tom. For better or worse, right? I’ll bring a friend home if I want and I’ll certainly bring her here when I see you two.” Her dark eyes flash at Harrison before she’s turning back on the alpha, “Trying to tempt history into repeating itself. She has every right-”

“Enough!” The snarl rises from deep in Tom’s chest. Emily freezes mid-sentence. Even she knew when it was time to stop pushing. Tom glares daggers from Emily to Y/N and Harrison finally has an explanation for that prickling sensation he’s been feeling since realizing she was here. 

He needed to protect his mate. Y/N doesn’t know what she is to him yet but it’s crystal clear to him now.

The instinct is urging him between Tom’s line of view and Y/N. She was only safe so long as he could protect her. The pull to move to action is strong and rooted in his bones.

 The alpha raises a brow in question as Harrison follows what his gut is telling him. Tom gets a stiff shrug from him in response. Of all people, Tom should know what it was like to be compelled to protect what was his. Y/N was his as much as Emily was Tom’s and he can’t shake the sinking feeling in his stomach as she talks about history repeating. 

Y/N is trying to stand and he turns his back to the alpha pair and takes her hands. When she’s on her feet she leans against him her face immediately nuzzling into the crook of his neck, hiding from the loud voices and angry posturing.  

“Christ Haz” Tom snarls, “Get her out of here.”

Harrison’s lip curls and he fights back his own indignant sound. If Y/N wasn’t here maybe things would be different but he’s too close to getting what he wants. He can’t let her find out like this. He’s got to learn from Tom’s mistakes. He has to ease her into it, not allow her to be thrown face first. 

The sour tendrils of fear rise from Y/N. They’re faint, acrid, just slightly burning at his delicate nose. Her apprehension is obvious. Even as blitzed as she is she has enough sense to recognize danger when she’s in its midst. He doesn't acknowledge either of the pack leaders as he loops his arms under Y/N’s knees and scoops her up. She sighs softly, pressing further into his arms. The trust she puts in him tempers his foul mood. He’d have it out with Em and Tom later. For now he had his girl to take care of. 

Toeing the door shut Harrison takes a moment to enjoy having Y/N close. He buries his nose in her hair, inhales softly. The sour smell is dissipating and her sweet vanilla has returned. It reminds him of birthday cake and home.

“You smell nice” Her voice is a soft slur as she nuzzles against his chest. A tremor of excitement runs through Haz.

“I smell like I just showered at the gym.” He corrects gently

“Underneath that” she mumbles ‘Smells like you.”

Y/N’s voice is far away and airy as she speaks, Haz can feel the way her nose bumps against his pulse as she snuggles in closer. 

It’s an adorable challenge getting her to bed. He’d thought to place her safely in one of the guest room but after the argument downstairs he didn’t want her out of his sight. He didn’t know if he trusted his baser instincts but right now his wolf wouldn’t allow for her to be anywhere but with him. 

Figuring out how to get her into pajamas is his first trial. She’s like an octopus the way she clings to him. He can feel her delicate lips against his neck as she murmurs. She’s got him half hard by the time he drops her unceremoniously to his bed. She bounces and laughs falling back, her hair falling into a halo around her. She continues to giggle softly as she attempts to push herself into a sitting position. She fails miserably. 

“I’m stuck” she whines.

A soft smile crosses Harrison face. It felt right having her here. In his home. In his room. In his bed. 

After retrieving sweats and a t-shirt he has to manhandle her back into a sitting position. 

“Come on sweetheart. Got to get you ready to go to sleep.” He says propping her up. He tries to keep his eyes averted as she clumsily pulls her shirt over her head and slips into his t-shirt. She’s a happy drunk at least, he thinks as she giggles each time she fails to put her arm in the appropriate hole. 

“Will you sleep with me?” 

His eyes fall to her. She’s managed to shimmy her jeans off and is wearing his t-shirt like a nightgown. It skims her thighs giving him far too good a view of her smooth legs. Her eyes are innocent and unfocused as she yawns.

“Will you behave?” he asks and she pouts. Harrison chuckles as he watches her crawl to the head of the bed. She wiggles her legs under the covers and crosses her arms over her chest. 

“Wanted to kiss you.” she says sulkily. He can’t help his grin, knows it’s entirely too predatory but her admission makes him happy. “I’ll give you all the kisses you want, Darling.” Y/N’s face lights up only to fall a moment later, “when you're sober and know what you’re doing.” Paying her no mind he moves to his closet to change into his own sleep clothes. He’d normally just wear a pair of boxers and call it good but he wants more between them than just a thin scrap of fabric. Grey sweats and a clean white tee will protect his modesty he thinks with a chuckle. 

He’s only gone for a few minutes but when he comes out he finds Y/N already asleep curled up around one of his pillows. Her breathing is soft and slow as the covers are pulled back and he readjusts her body to cover you up. Soft little disgruntled sounds slip from her throat as her arms search for him. Once he’s tucked in close she quiets. His arms were meant to be around her, her body fits perfectly against his own. It all feels right. The wolf and the man are both of the same mind. Y/N was his mate.  She belonged tonight, tomorrow, forever.  Now, he just needed to have the hardest conversation of his life and hope she could understand. 

[argyleandjonathansmokingajoint]

My Boy Keeps Me Strong

Pairing: Byeler/Byler

Words: 4k (a little more but close enough)

Summary: Will and Mike have been through more than they ever should've together, but nothing feels as scary as coming out to their best friends does. Then, when it all goes south, they're left to pick up the pieces of each other again. But all their years of friendship can't just really be over like that, can it?

Warning: Uh, slurs, homophobia, and cussing.. The homophobia is sorta resolved though?

Author’s Note: This just came together through my venting, basically. So, I hope you enjoy! I just love them so much. (Btw, in a perfect world, none of the party members would be homophobic and I usually like to headcanon them as such, but I'm very gay and I was just feeling some type of way, sorry..) Happy ending though, I swear! You can find it on my AO3 here.

“Hey guys, guys! Um, so We had something we wanted to tell you.” The party were currently all splayed out around the Basement in the Wheeler residence, as per usual. Mike’s comment had drawn their attention though, so everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to face the taller teen and Will, whom they assumed he must also be talking about, since he was standing beside him.

“Okay, Mike! It looks like you boys have the floor!” Dustin yelled, earning some light jeering and laughs from the teens.

Will could feel his palms growing sweaty. He was more nervous to do this than he’d ever been to do anything probably. Mike looked over at him, knocking into his arm and smiling to reassure him, although his own nerves were no better.

El, seeming to sense the emotions from the two boys, brought silence to the room so that they could continue, and so, continue they did.

“Uh, yeah so anyway, gonna try to keep this kinda short, I guess.” Mike’s voice wavered and there were a few laughs around the room, but nothing else, so he continued. “So, where to start?” He looked at Will, and the boy gave an encouraging smile, so Mike took a breath and just went for it. “We’re gay and we’re dating!” It came out in a rush, and for a second, he wasn’t even sure if he had said it at all, but then after a couple of beats of silence, silence he would come to wish he could have back, all hell suddenly broke loose.

“What!” Lucas jumped up from his chair and Max was off of the floor beside him, not a second later, grabbing his arm, as if she thought he might hit one of them. Honestly, Mike was kind of thinking the same thing.

“Wait, since when?!” Dustin looked more than a little freaked that two of his best friends suddenly happened to be homos.

“I don’t understand. Is this bad?” This one little question from El gave them a brief glimmer of hope amongst all of the shit that was starting to pile onto them right now.

“I-I” Will couldn’t even seem to form any words, but it didn’t matter to the group because apparently, Lucas had plenty to say, or more specifically, just one thing to say.

“No, I-I just can’t, okay? Jesus, I can’t even look at you!” And that was that from them because then they were storming out and dragging El away as she looked back with confusion in her eyes.

Well, they were kind of confused too, to tell the truth. Their best friends since childhood had just had one of the worst possible reactions imaginable to their coming out, and the worst thing of all? Neither of them had even imagined this scenario taking place at all. They were so sure, so confident in their friends’ love, loyalty, and bond that they hadn’t even questioned it. Well, that had royally screwed them this time, hadn’t it?

“I-I just stood there. I can’t believe I just stood there.” Mike was looking at the floor, his face in complete shock.

“I was no better, Mike. I couldn’t even make a case for us.” He registered the words as he said them. He shouldn’t have to make any case, right? What were they doing, feeling guilty? Will looked down at his hands and realized that he was shaking. He eyes then landed on Mike to see that he, on the other hand, looked almost numb from the experience they had just gone through. Will placed his hands around him and delicately wrapped his arms around him, waiting for Mike to lean into it. Mike’s head immediately curled into Will’s neck and his cheek landed on his shoulder. Even though he was a tall guy, Mike loved his comfort positions and Will secretly loved him all the more for it. It hurt to see him like this though. Will just wanted everything to be okay. He wanted their friends back, and he almost wished they could take back their most well-guarded secret. But looking at Mike, he thought, almost, but not quite, with a warm feeling in his heart.

“Those fucking bastards! I mean, honestly, screw those guys! Ya know, baby? who needs ‘em anyway, huh?” Mike huffed out a ragged breath and looked behind him as if the party members would still be standing there. “Bunch of lousy “so called” friends.” As he said it, he put in air quotes and the disgust was clear, then his shoulders slumped and he wrapped his arms around the shorter boy in front of him and pressed his forehead into Will’s own, closing his eyes tightly. This conversation had been going on for awhile now. Maybe around three hours already. But Mike was fired up and Will was exhausted, and they were both feeling extremely let down about the whole thing, not to mention just hurt and betrayed by the rest of the Party.

“Hey, hey now. You don’t mean that.” The voice in which Will used was gentle, trying to soothe the aching pain his boyfriend was feeling, even as his own heart still smarted from the rejection of their friends. Were they still friends? They’d been through something akin to hell and back together. Was this really the driving force that was going to rip them apart?

“Will, I really, really fucking do. Those assholes! I’m through with the whole lot of ‘em! They think they can just go around and say anything and it won’t matter? Well, it f-fucking matters to me, damnit!” Mike’s entire body was shaking, even his hands were trembling, and he was breathing heavily from his outburst. After catching his breath and seeming to compose himself a bit, he spoke up again. “Doesn’t it mean anything to you?” His voice was much quieter now, almost a whisper even.

“Of course, it does! Of course.”

“Yeah, yeah. Alright.” His boyfriend started nodding and then grabbed him by the hips, pulling him closer. Will held his hands that were gripping him and linked their fingers together, giving him a smile. This must be a good sign. Everything was going to be okay. Then Mike began to speak again. “L-let’s just go somewhere together. Somewhere far, far away from here.”

Will’s look turned to one of confusion. “What? Where?”

“I don’t know! As fucking, far away as we can stand! Let’s just go, please, please, Will.” The anger and hurt were clear in both his voice and face, but more than that, there was that deep-rooted fear they both shared. He was scared, probably more than he had been when they’d faced the demogorgan, or the mind flayer, or the flayed. Any of the upside down’s tricks, but homophobia had that beat by a thousand miles or more. Will could understand, now knowing why Mike was acting the way he was. It made sense. But even though he got it, Mike was what made Will strong, so even though, yeah Will was scared, he’d face just about anything if he had Mike by his side, whether that be interdimensional, portal hopping demon or your everyday, old-fashioned homophobia.

“Mike, sweetie.” The tone he used carried a slight pleading tone to it. “I know you’re hurt, and I get it. Like I actually do, more than I did earlier. I know it’s scary when you’re like… us, but I’m not scared. Do you know why?”

Mike’s head was facing downward, his shoulders shaking slightly. Will could see a teardrop fall from the corner of his nose and he brushed it away. Mike shook his head, a sign for Will to continue talking. “Because I’m never scared when I’m with you. Not really. You give me the strength to be brave, and if you really wanna leave all this? If you just want to pack up and go, leave everyone behind? Our families, friends, everything we’ve ever known… I’ll go.” Mike’s head lifted when Will said this, the shock in his face clear. His tear stained face was blotchy and red, and Will couldn’t help but smile softly at his boyfriend, reaching his hand up and cupping his face. “I won’t lie, I might be scared. But I’ll go, and I know we’ll be okay because, at least we’ll be together.”

A breath left Mike’s chest in a whoosh when he heard Will’s heartfelt confession. It might as well have been a love poem and a dozen roses for the way it made his heart feel. “You stupid, I love you so much!” Mike dragged him into a hug, and if it weren’t for the loud sobs wracking his body, Will wouldn’t know he was crying at all.

“I love you too, you big baby.”

_____

Will was a little drunk and more than a lot pissed when he found out the party members were hanging out down by the quarry without Mike and him, so maybe he decided to do something a little bit stupid and a whole lot brave about it. He was going to go out there and confront those dicks and tell them just exactly how much it pissed him off.

But, safety first! A drunk person should never operate an automated vehicle. Or, something like that. No, Will forgoes his brother’s hand-me-down car and grabs up his bike that’s a couple sizes too small by now and hops on, pedaling down to the quarry as fast and as steady as his drunk legs will carry him. The bike’s still in pretty good condition since he uses it sometimes to go riding with Mike or the rest of the party. Well, they used to. The memory stings, urging Will on faster and he ignores his aching legs in favor of pedaling harder.

When he finally reaches the quarry’s edge, he sees them all out there, laughing and having a good ‘ol time. It makes him so angry that he throws down his bike as he gracelessly gets off. He might’ve regretted that if he were sober, but as it stands, he couldn’t care less. Will stumbles down to where the party are sitting, and they look up as they hear someone approaching.

“Will?” El is the first to say anything. She sounds surprised but pleased to see him. Will doesn’t even care anymore. He’s through giving chances, playing at Mr. nice guy.

“What are you doing here? Where’s Mike?” It’s Dustin this time. He doesn’t sound too off put, but not too thrilled either. Yeah, Will’s not surprised with the show he put on the last time they saw each other at Mike’s.

Will scoffs. “Do you really care? Let me guess. You wanna make sure he’s not in the bushes, with like b-binoculars or something, creeping on you? Huh? Is that i-it?” He lets out a noise that is supposed to be a sound of disbelief, but really just sounds like a poorly done fart sound.

“Uh, are you drunk?” Max looks worried, after all the time is only around four or five in the afternoon, so her worry isn’t for nothing. However, Will doesn’t even register her, too lost in his own emotions and drunkenness to even hear the sound of her voice.

“You know what, fuck you guys! Okay, Mike was right. You don’t even deserve to have us as friends. W-we put so much trust in you that we actually, stupidly thought you might- I don’t know, not care who we love, or who we sleep with!!” Will’s voice cracked over the last bit and he could feel the sting of hot tears in his eyes, but he tried his best to hold them in. He couldn’t, wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him break down. “You bastards think it’s easy?! I’m a walking fucking poster for the Aids epidemic! Damnit, you have no idea, none, what mike and I go through every day. Even if I wasn’t gay, I run the risk of being killed or beaten in an alley because I “look too fucking queer”, and that’s something someone told me once before he punched me in the face, so take your sorry excuses or non-excuses for why you can’t be friends with the two fags and shove it.” If he wasn’t crying before then he definitely was now. Great, heaving sobs suddenly filled his chest and he collapsed in on himself. He wanted Mike. They didn’t get it, no one did, only Mike. Mike was the only one that ever did. Will was genuinely weeping, huge gasps leaving his body and an onslaught of new sobs taking over. It felt as if he were mourning some great loss and, in some way, he was.

He looked up at the sudden feeling of arms surrounding him, and for a moment he thought that maybe he’d imagined the whole thing and he was actually with Mike right now or just dreaming. But when he looked up, it wasn’t into the smiling face of Mike, it was into the concerned faces of El and Max, with Dustin sitting in front of him, looking equally as concerned. Lucas was a bit further away, but still near and all of them wore matching expressions of shame and guilt of varying degrees.

Dustin’s voice startled Will out of his thoughts. “I-I’m sorry, Will. We shouldn’t have treated you like that. I mean, I don’t really get it, I guess, but that’s no reason for me to treat you differently. Besides, you’ve always fought so hard for me, for all of us, and I know you always will. So, I’ll do the same for you. I love you, buddy.”

“But, even though we’re gay?” Will’s not sure what the question is, but the others seem to understand well enough and rush ahead to reassure him.

“Hell yeah, I mean it. I’m like, all in now!” Dustin smiles a big, goofy grin, that almost makes Will want to smile himself.

“Yeah, dude! Besides, I’m from California. I mean, this kind of thing is nothing new around there, so I’ve seen it plenty.” Max places a comforting hand on his back and this time, Will does smile.

“Really?” Dustin actually sounds a little interested, but Will can’t tell if it’s real or for his benefit. Either way, it’s appreciated.

“Wow, so you’ve seen people like Mike and me lots?” Will can’t help himself. He’s never been able to share this side of himself or ask questions with anyone else but Mike, so this is a pretty nice feeling.

“Oh sure! Tons! They’re just normal people after all, but some you can just- tell. It’s really cool though, actually. There’s a lot in, like San Francisco, I heard my dad say once, and even New York has a lot. I guess because it’s such a big city and nobody cares what anybody else is doing, I don’t know.”

Will’s cheeks are starting to hurt from smiling. “Woah, you actually know a surprising amount.”

“Yeah, you pick up some things living in the big city.” Max just grins back at him and pats his back.

“Will?” El speaks for the first time since he first arrived at the quarry. He nods to let her know that he’s listening. “I’m happy that you’re happy again, but I don’t understand why you and Mike were sad? Is gay good or is gay bad? I don’t know.”

Will lets out a small sigh. He really doesn’t know how he feels about having this conversation with El in front of everyone. Or at all. Everyone said they were okay with it now, well, everyone except Lucas, who hasn’t even spoken yet. He might as well get it over with, though. It’s what he came out here for, after all.

“Well, it depends on who you talk to, really. Some people hate it, hate everything about it. But there are some people that just think it shouldn’t matter if you’re a boy and love a boy or a girl and love a girl or even whatever else there might be out there. They say that love is just love and that’s that. Well, that’s what I think. Mike, too. Um, so yeah.” He looked down after finishing, feeling suddenly bashful. Maybe the alcohol was wearing off.

“El, it doesn’t matter who you choose to love. It’s just love, and that’s a beautiful thing. You know that, right?” Everyone looked over to the one that had spoken. There, staring back was Lucas. It was the first time he had spoken since Will had arrived at the quarry and everyone was more than a little shocked by the words coming out of his mouth. The other party members, excluding Mike and Will, had personally heard Lucas go on more than one rant about having queers in the group for so long and not even knowing about it. Now he was speaking again though. “I mean, isn’t that true, El?” Her nod was enough of an answer for Lucas to continue.

“I’m sorry, Will. Everything you said today just made me think and… I was a real asshole. I love you no matter what.”

Will looked at him for a long moment, as if considering, then shook his head wryly. “I-I love you too, but you guys should really be apologizing to Mike.”

Lucas nodded firmly in agreement, his aura radiating determination. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

_____

The soft melodic voices of the band, Chicago were playing in the background, softly droning on. Just say you’ll love me for the rest of your life. I gotta lot of love and I don’t want to let go. Huh. It was just Mike’s luck that the radio would be playing something that only made him think more about his problems, instead of taking his mind off of them. That’s how it usually went, wasn’t it? He was still so scared and hurt by how everything had happened with the party the other day, but more than that, he was worried he’d overstepped things with Will. Maybe he’d gone too far, said too much, and now he’d ruined everything. As the next song popped on, one he didn’t recognize, he heard feet coming down the stairs.

A lot of feet come to think of it, and he hadn’t actually heard that sound in over a week. Mike turned his head towards the sound, where one by one his boyfriend and each of his friends, or ex friends, he wasn’t exactly sure, came around the corner and stopped a few feet away from him.

He blinked a couple of times and then looked at Will, as if to say, um what’s going on here, and then that’s precisely what he did say. “Will, what’s going on? What are they doing here?” He couldn’t keep the bitter edge out of his voice, even as it was clouded by confusion.

“Uh, well they wanted to talk to you.” He could see that Mike was about to interject, and it didn’t look like he had anything nice to say so Will quickly continued before he could put in any words of his own. “Hold on, before you say anything. I already talked to them, okay? And I know this doesn’t fix everything-”

“You’re damn right, it doesn’t!” Mike was on his feet now, looking almost ready for a fight. “I don’t care what you guys think, okay-”

“Sweetie, don’t-”

“No, Will! Are you forgetting what those assholes said to us?! How they treated us?” At this, Will looked down at the floor. He hadn’t forgotten, of course. And sure, it still hurt. But he knew that they meant it when they said they were sorry. “Cause I-I haven’t forgotten.”

“You’re right.” Everyone turned their heads to Will in surprise. “What they said hurt and I can’t just forget that kind of pain, but Mike, look at me.” He walked over to his boyfriend and tipped his chin so it was facing his own face. “They apologized to me, and they meant it. I know they did. So, just give them the chance to do the same to you before you make your choice. Please?” A small smile painted his lips when he saw Mike nod his assent.

The taller teen turned his attention to the rest of the party, who had been looking on in fascination and awe as they watched Will coax Mike into talking with them. Now they seemed to straighten up at having his attention on them.

“Well, talk then.” Mike growled out, clearly impatient and in no mood to be doing this at all.

It struck Max that he was only doing it for Will in the first place, and what a wonderful thing their relationship must actually be. To show that much restraint, clearly uncomfortable and looking ready to crawl out of his own skin. But he stayed, for Will. He didn’t turn them away, for Will. She caught Mike’s eyes and noticed the way his gaze shifted quickly away from hers. Max shook herself out of all of her other thoughts. All she really wanted to do was let him know that she didn’t see him any differently.

“I’m sorry, Mike. I should’ve said something when you guys told us, but I was scared and I thou- well, yeah. I guess, I was just too scared.” Mike kept quiet and looked off to the side. It might seem to ruse to someone else, but Max saw it for what it was. The boy was afraid. She noticed he was clutching Will’s hand, tightly, so she just continued speaking, her tone earnest and soft. “I want you to know that I don’t think of you guys differently, at all.” Mike’s head jerked up to hers at this. “It’s like I told Will, growing up in California, you see gay people all the time. I’m used to all kinds of different people there- I mean, n-not that you guys are different! It’s just not something that everybody l-likes, I guess. I mean- sorry.” She trailed off in a whisper, sighing. Somehow, she had the feeling like she had made things worse, but when she looked at Mike’s face it didn’t look like she had. He had that same wide-eyed look on his face that Will had when she had told him about California and New York.

El patted Max’s arm like she was trying to make her feel better, before she looked at Will and Mike. “Will told me about gay and what it means, so now I know. I’m sorry I didn’t before, Mike. I don’t understand why we dated if you don’t like girls, but you can tell me when you’re ready, okay?”

Mike’s face paled and the group could see Will squeeze his palm. Then Mike said, in a barely there voice, “O-okay.”

El nodded and smiled. “Okay. I’m always here for both of you. Promise.” Everyone felt themselves relax a little when Mike gave her a small grin.

Surprisingly, Lucas was the next to speak up. “Mike. I’ll just get right to it. I know I said some shit things.” Mike let out a snort, but otherwise kept silent, allowing the other teen to continue. “I was a total ass, okay?! And, and I’m just so sorry, man!” Mike was shocked, not by the words, but because Lucas was crying. It’s not that he’d never seen him cry, but it must’ve been a few years at least.

“W-wait, you’re serious right now? This isn’t a joke, right?” Mike was wary, but hopeful. He stepped up to his friend, who suddenly rushed him, pulling him into a massive hug which nobody expected.

“You should love whoever you love, I know that! That’s your right. And you and Will are two of my best friends! Fuck, why would I ever try to stop you from being together? What kind of dick am I?!” Mike didn’t know what to say, so he just did his best to comfort Lucas, rubbing his back and telling him it was alright, everything was fine, but Lucas insisted that everything was not fine, he was actually a giant tool that shouldn’t even be forgiven.

That actually got Mike a laugh out of Mike and it was like the dams breaking open. Then Dustin was running over to them with tears in his eyes, pulling Will in and creating a group hug between the four boys, which Lucas complained about, still grinning ear to ear with his own tear stained face.

“This is Mine and Mike’s moment, Dustin!” Lucas tried shoving the curly haired boy off, playfully.

Dustin just pushed back, ignoring him completely. “But I’m sorry, too! God, can we all just agree that everyone here are assholes except for Will and Mike? And maybe Jane, because there’s a lot she still doesn’t know?”

“Oh, okay actually, yes. I can totally get with that.” Lucas chances a look at his two friends, grinning when he sees that they’re both actually smiling.

“Hey, you two get in here!” And then Mike’s pulling Max into the Hug, and Max is grabbing onto El to drag her into the lovefest and they’re all just hugging. They’ll deny the tears until years later.

_____

Later, when everyone else has gone home and it’s just Mike and Will, they will listen to much happier songs on the radio and talk and Will will mention to Mike that one day, when they do decide to move away, because they will, they should maybe think about New York or California. He hears San Francisco is nice. Mike will whole-heartedly agree. Besides, as long as he’s got his boy by his side, they’ll be alright.

[the-durin-boys]

You’re Okay Pt. 2 ~ Thorin and Company x Reader

Here’s part 1!!

-----

The weeks following the little itty-bitty hypothermia incident was kind of iffy, to say the least. Thorin hasn’t let you out of his sight, always insisting that you sit next to him for dinner, or that you sleep close during the night, and at first you didn’t mind enjoying the feeling of being looked after and cared for, but after a while, you began to feel very cramped and claustrophobic. Wherever you went, there was a dwarf. Whether it was Thorin himself or another member of the pitying party. But you didn’t complain, not wanting to seem ungrateful to the dwarves care. And so the over-protective watchfulness of Thorin Oakenshield continues.

“Everybody, get down!” The hushed, almost panicked whisper of Thorin resonates through the forest air, and everybody drops to the dirt, rolling to hide in bushes and behind boulders. The company has been hunted down by an orc pack for several weeks, and Thorin hasn’t let you leave his side. That’s how you got into your current situation, on the ground, shrouded by shadows and body pressed tightly against the warm, firm chest of the dwarven king. His hot breath tickles your ear and picks up the hair on the back of your neck as the orcs and warg scouts jump over the cleverly hidden divot in the forest. The orcs, having found nothing, continue on their path, but Thorin doesn’t allow any of the company to stand for the fear of one of the orcs looking back and seeing the dwarves rise out of the dirt. And so here you are, trapped between a boulder and Thorin, questioning why you could almost fall asleep, with Thorin’s arm curled protectively around your waist and steady breathing gently lulling you to sleep. Thorin must have taken notice of the gradual sleepy relaxation taking hold of your body, because he shifted away, just a bit, and let the cool evening air softly wake you once more. You, dreadfully tired from the journey and already now half asleep, moan quietly in disgruntled annoyance and you scootch back until your back finds its previous source of warmth. You can almost swear, through delirious haze of fog of sleep, that Thorin Oakenshield chuckled but you couldn’t really care less, because all you want to do right now is sleep. You, Thorin, and the rest of the company lay still for almost half an hour as the pack circles back. By the time that Thorin is sure that the orcs are long gone, the sun has set and so have you. Thorin can’t help but look at you and smile, feeling a fluttery touch on his heart knowing that you felt safe enough in his arms to fall asleep. He calls for camp to be set up, and while the others work, he stays next to you, a little upset that he can’t hold you in his arms in the presence of others, so he makes up for the loss of touch by covering you in your blanket and guarding you as you sleep, blissfully unaware of what was to come.

The next morning, when you wake, you immediately felt that something was off. A sort of deep feeling that sits in your gut and twists your stomach into knots kind of a feeling.

“G’mornin’ lassie. Sleep well?” You blink up at Bofur and wipe your eyes, shaking sleep and that terrible feeling from your chest. You nod dazed as you try to take in your surroundings.

“Where did everyone go?” Bofur looks up from the small fire that he was tending (they kept building it really close to you in the night so you don’t freeze again.) and surveys the camp for himself.

“Well Thorin took the boys out huntin’ and I think Dwalin went with ‘em. Everyone else is down at the stream bathin’.” You yawn and pull yourself up onto the log that Bofur sits on.

“Why aren’t you at the stream too?” Bofur chuckles and pats your head, letting his head come to a rest on your shoulder.

“Well someone had to watchya, didn’t they?” Bofur looks at you, and before you can protest, continues speaking. “Of course, I agreed to stay behind an’ watch, so don’t feel bad about it. I don’t mind watching over someone as beautiful as you.”

“Bofur!” You squeak, hands flying to cover up your reddening cheeks. Bofur laughs and pats your shoulder, only causing you to burn a deeper red. “It’s not funny! Stop laughing!” Bofur is about to speak again when a deep, rumbling voice interrupts.

“Bofur.” There is no chill nor menacing tone nor a threat on Thorin’s tongue, but still Bofur stopped laughing and straightened out. He knows of the kings little crush on you, but he still smiles and seats himself further away from you to make room for the royalty.

“‘Mornin’ Thorin. Lovely day, innit?” Thorin looks at you, watching the shade of red fade to pink on your cheeks.

“Yes, I suppose it is a good morning.” He seats himself between you and Bofur (his spot since that night) “A good morning indeed.” The airy tone that contrasts so hilariously to his usual  regal tone, and the love-struck gaze in his eyes causes Bofur to smirk and then stand.

“I’m going to join the lads at the stream.” You look up at Bofur and playfully throw a twig at him when he waggles his eyebrows. “Want to join.”

“Bofur oh my goodness, give me a chance to wake up, will you?” Your face heats up again and Bofur watches victoriously as Thorin’s back shifts and his gaze turns to a glare.

“Oh so that means you’ll be joinin’ me later, then?”

“Bofur!” You throw another twig at him and Bofur laughs. “Get lost!” Another twig.

“Alright! Alright! I’m going!�� Bofur holds up his hands in surrender. You don’t say anything, but Thorin does.

“Bofur, go clean yourself and inform the others that breakfast will be late.”

“On it. And (Y/N)?” You peak at him through your fingers while almost hiding behind Thorin.

“What?” Came your muffled reply.

“Have a good morning.” He winks and then sets off, not missing the growl from Thorin and the squeak from you. “It’s going to be a lovely day.”

--

Now, you aren’t a picky person at all, and you definitely don’t mind some attention now and then, but you do very much enjoy your own personal space, and being able to hang out with yourself and a good book. Ever since you fell asleep cuddling Thorin, (which was a direct result of the stupid hypothermia incident) he has grown so fiercly protective of you that you haven’t been able to hang out with Fili and Kili, even Bofur and Bilbo (especially Bofur). But still, you didn’t complain, aside from a few grumbles. You aren’t really sure why Thorin is acting the way he is (you know that you’re a bit emotional dense, that’s why you befriended Bilbo, who acts as a translator for these kinds of things) but it’s starting to grate on your nerves. Who does he think he is, trying to control you like this? It’s been starting to negatively affect you. Maybe it’s because he thinks that you’re weak? That you need protection? You sigh outwardly and bite at your thumbnail. It’s one of the rare moments of peace that you got without Thorin and an assortment of other dwarves breathing down your neck. Right now you are at the stream, alone. You had managed to whisper your whereabouts to Balin before slipping into the trees armed with your bag and blade. The water is cool and clear, and the stream is less of a stream and more of a shallow river. The warm afternoon air is tinged with the scent of rain and the forest is quiet. Almost too quiet, but you don’t pay attention to that, but instead pay attention to the thick layer of filth and grime covering your skin. You sigh and take off your shirt and fiddle with a tear in your sleeve, but decide that that is a problem for later and toss the shirt aside. You’re reluctant to take off anymore clothes, so you decide to bath in parts, to never be truly naked. You dip your makeshift washcloth in the water and start to scrub away at the grime, really wishing that you had picked up some more soap whilst you and the rest of the company were in a little town. A rustle and a few snaping of twigs catches your attention and you snap your head up and squint across the river, just in time to catch the familiar glint of an arrow as it flies through the air.

“Shit!” You throw yourself to the side, but the arrow still catches your shoulder, cutting deep into the flesh. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck!” Several more arrows, by orc design, you note, fly from within the trees. You’re barely grab your blade to deflect the arrows when two stick, one in your left thigh and the other right under your ribs. You gasp, stunned for just a moment. You hear the notch and the fling of another arrow and duck out of the way just in time to let it fly by. The tree you lean against provides enough cover to duck out of the way and move quickly and swiftly through the woods, but you leave behind your bag, the only thing with you is your blade. The colors of the forest start to blur together as you stumble forward, following the smell of woodsmoke. There are no signs of your attackers from the river but you still move quietly along the skirts of the camp, just to make sure before you finally step in.

“(Y/N)?” You don’t know who’s speaking to you, you consciousness fading. You pitch forward and fall into the sturdy arms of a dwarf.

“Orcs. Orcs at the river. They’re at the river…” Your eyes roll back and you go limp, succumbing to your wounds.

-----------

“Where is (Y/N)?” Thorin returns back to his seat, next to where you should be, from his conversation with Dwalin.

“She’s gone down to the stream to bathe.” Thorin looks over at Balin.

“And you let her go alone?” Balin quirks an eyebrow up at Thorin.

“Did you want to join her?” Thorin scowls and turns away.

“When did she leave?”

“Five minutes ago.” Thorin almost growls but says nothing and sits down. Time passes extremely slowly for Thorin, but he doesn’t want to stand and go after you and cause an embarrassing scene for both you and himself, so he sits and waits, occupying himself by tending the fire.

Another five minutes pass.

“(Y/N)?” Thorin looks up at the sound of Ori’s voice and sees you pitch forward into his arms, speared with two arrows of orcs making. The company is up in a panic but everything else falls silent as Thorin races toward you, and everything slows, all he can see is you.

“Orcs. Orcs at the river. They’re at the river…” Your eyes roll back and you fall limp just as Thorin reaches you and Ori. All the blood in Ori’s face drains out as he passes you onto Thorin and as he stares down at his own bloodstained hands.

“Oin!” Thorin has never felt such red hot anger, such fierce and horrible burning hatred like he feels now. Orcs, disgusting pigs, attacked you when you were alone and the most vulnerable. Your soft skin, slick with blood, burns his skin. How….. how dare they! Oin shoves his way through the crowd and takes you from Thorin’s arms, leaving Thorin to stand so fiercely that the rest of the company backs off. His eyes miss the angry and tear-filled faces of the rest of the company, only seeing red.

“Everyone else, take up your arms and follow me.”

[jellyfishdooter]

Okay so, back when I asked for asks for my Ego DnD AU, @lace-maze sent a really good ask a while back asking about why each of the egos chose the characters they did and their playing styles- and I can’t for the LIFE of me find the original anywhere on my blog. ;3;

But! I finished it and I bet it reads horribly but whatever who cares I’m tired- enjoy!

So to FINALLY answer your question, the way I went about choosing what each of the egos would play more or less boiled down to a combo of trying to pick what I think THEY would want to play, and what I figured they would be in the Dungeons and Dragons universe. (wink wonk)

Marvin- Dragonborn Sorcerer

One of the top veterans of the game, he likes to play something with more of a challenge and a lot more mechanics. And since he’s a magician it’s definitely has to deal with magic of some kind (I mean c’mon, he’s already got the aesthetic wardrobe irl for it so why not?). So he’s currently playing a Sorcerer- a magic caster who has the power naturally within him (which ties in his Race for it’s from his draconic bloodline:)

He could have easily chosen his race to be a Tabaxi (a human-cat like hybrid), but he already got enough shit of being the “furry” of the group as it was so instead he decided to go for a Dragonborn. In the game there are different types of Dragonborn, so specifically he’s Brass- which both deals fire damage breath, and is also resistant to fire.

Being one of the older players, his play style depends on the day. For the most part he is the cool, collected member of the party who doesn’t rush in and thinks things through... Until it’s later in the evening with a few drink in ‘em and then they just say, “Yeah, this might as well happen.” Before taking another shot and round-housing someone poor guy’s ass for mocking his scaly features.

Jackie- Half-Orc Fighter

Always wanting to be the hero, Jackie wants to fight and protect his fellow party members. He only has a few sessions under his belt, but he’s confident in saying that he's comfortable with playing more tanky characters and dealing heavy damage.

Jackie doesn’t have a lot of reasoning for his Race other than Orcs Are Cool so he just rolls with that.

As for his Class he likes having a bunch of different fighting styles to choose from while in combat so he can pick and choose which would work best for the situation (they also get more of a range in picking which Armor Class they want-).

His play style is Protect the Party, but also Rush In Head First Into Danger. He’s always in the front lines of a fight to tank the most damage and provide cover for the more squishy characters. It can get quite frustrating for the healer at times when he runs battleaxe-first into battle, leaving his head behind.

Speaking of healers-

Henrik- High Elf Alchemist

A lot like Anti, Henrik found the idea of playing to be quite silly. But once he got into it, the doctor found it quite enjoyable to get into a fantasy character and forget about the real world for a couple of hours. But wanting to retain some kind of dignity, he decided to play as a High Elf. He was drawn to their grace, wonderlust for adventure, and near perfectionism. To say the least, it's easy for him to slip into character.

Strictly speaking, Alchemist is not the the 5E DnD Handbook, but Jack allowed it and made some homebrew additions to the character so their party would actually have a fucking healer. So in addition to the damage-dealing bombs Henrik’s character uses, he also has a special healing bomb he can yeet at the other players when needed.

Henrik’s play style is serious, but curious. He’s always wanting to explore the world Jack created for them and peacefully interact with the NPCs, enjoying events that unfold naturally. However when it’s time for a proper fight he does not beat around the bush, staying in the back for more long-ranged attacks rather than right on the front lines.

Chase- Human Ranger

The recently-single father needed an outlet other than drinking to try and cope with the loss of his family. So like any good friend, Jack offered Chase a spot in his campaign that he was putting together! He wasn’t too sure at first, Chase said that the game seemed really complex and hard to get into. But Jack waves it off and told his friend, “You honestly have to fully jump into it if you’re gonna get anywhere. There’s not really a small way to start. It’s pretty much all or nothing. But trust me, it’s gonna be great!” And ever since his first session, Chase always looked forward to next week’s game.

Being one of the newer players, Chase doesn’t really play anything too crazy, so he sticks to his guns and runs a Human pc. And he may or may not have based the character on his old life to some degree. Giving himself a stable home, a fulfilling job, and a big loving family and at least 3 dogs. Ya’know, real heavy fantasy stuff.

Jack offered him the newer class/ homebrew of a Gunslinger, but he politely declined ‘cause he didn’t want to have to deal with new rules. So he decided to go with a Ranger for his class, figuring it would make for a cool character to play.

Chase’s play style is pretty average (no pun intended), and not all that spectacular. He gets a few good one-liners in here and there, but for the most part he plays passively. Fights when there’s a fight, and interacts almost only when others interact with him directly. (He’s been trying to get better at being more engaging, but he tends to zone out.)

Jameson- Halfling Bard

This session being JJ’s (and Robbie’s) first ever game, JJ pleasantly surprised Jack when he decided to be a Bard. When asked why, the silent man replied simply, “There’s nothing in the rules saying bards HAVE to sing. At the core of them, they are performers.” Jack beams and asks what’s their instrument of choice then? Jameson smiles and shows him this video, saying he thinks it would be interesting to have this as his musical item. (Also gotta love that good The Bard Seduces Everything trope. He’s keeping that in his back pocket for the right moment.)

As for being a Halfling, Jameson figured it would be fun to play a smaller character. And nobody ever suspects the small man to pack such a whaloop. But really, his love for the hobbits in the Tolkin books had captured his heart and really wanted to try and emulate that in the game! Maybe leaning more towards being a little prankster, but still at the core- in short- Soft Cottage Aesthetic™

Jameson’s play style is bouncy and go-gettem. He’s eager to explore the world and have fun with the NPCs. In battles he’s more comedic relief in the back inspiring the other players (and intimidating enemies by aggressively cranking his music box rapidly). And AT LEAST ONCE he has had Jackie’s character YEET his at the enemy to get the final blow to slay the beast. That was a fun session.

Anti- Changeling Rouge 

Do I really gotta explain this one? 

Naturally Anti always tries to play the edgiest characters he can. Giving them dark, moody personalities but with a slight crazed tick. (Chase naturally calls hypocrisy when Anti says his character is a self-insert to the game.)

I’m almost out of steam here so in short-

Anti loves the idea of having puppets to mess around with irl- so in the game he can somewhat do the same- by changing his figure/ features to mimic those of somebody to manipulate another. He doesn’t care much for the society around him and does his own thing, but can easily blend in and slip into other’s traditions if he needs to. His character has a tendency to pick fights pretending to be someone else before ducking out and watch the fight take place with a smirk on his hidden features. None of the party has ever seen his real face/ form, always changing it subtly so every time someone tries to take a second look something seems different or off.

Rouge: Quick and Stabby. Like the bitch himself.

Robbie- Undead Druid

Jack had to make a special homebrew character for Robbie ‘cause he was set on being an Undead. Apparently Robbie and Marvin talked about character ideas before hand and Robbie got a little overwhelmed with all the options that they had, so Marv suggested something Rob could relate to easier. So after an afternoon of crafting a special stat sheet, Jack allowed their favorite zombie ego to play.. Well, a zombie. (I’m sure someone else has made something similar out there but I might try and make a sheet later.. That could be fun lmao)

As for Druid, I like to see Robbie as being a little more connected to nature than the rest of the egos. Since he.. Yaknow, crawled out of the dirt at one point. (Side story- before the others found him in an old cemetery, he liked to just hang out around the area that was slowly being reclaimed by nature and liked watched the birds and animals). So he was pretty drawn to choosing this class. It’s a little complicated at points, but that’s why Marvin sits between him and JJ, so he can help them out through the whole process. Robbie gets really excited when one of his spells works in combat or just having fun interacting with the NPCs by growing them some flowers to be nice. 

As a whole Robbie’s play style is pretty passive. He gets distracted pretty easily and unless Jack is waving his arms around or using miniatures/ figurines to keep a visual, the zombie will sometimes lose focus and stare off into space for a minute before coming back to the game and raising his hand for something to be repeated.

It’s one big mixing pot of different people and play styles, but at the end of the day, Jack has a lot of fun trying to bounce around and keep up with everyone’s antics and storylines. It’s hard as hell at times and it gets a little frustrating when things get out of hand, but they all try to check each other and keep things rolling. And at the end of the day, all the boys enjoy the game and what Jack has to offer and really fucking enjoy themselves. DnD is a good destresser for most of them and all around a grand fun time!

[inactiive-shit]

When The Violence Causes Silence

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Warnings: apocalypse, zombies, fighting zombies

Pairing: platonic Moxiety

Words: 2,900

Summary: Virgil has to train the New Recruits.

And he is just ecstatic about it. /s

I’ve been trying to finish anything recently because I am working on a thirteen chapter story and I just need something to be finished to feel like a successful person. So I wrote this. Happy Hunting.

They were on a mission. In full honesty, it wasn’t even a particularly hard mission. They were just going to go into the nearby town for food and supplies, and avoid the reanimated corpses while they were at it. The town had mostly been wiped out of zombies already, which was why it was a great training ground for new recruits.

Virgil, on the other hand, was not a new recruit. No, he was the lucky member of his mid-apocalypse society that was chosen to show the new recruits the ropes.

Fortunately, he wasn't alone. Talyn was chosen to help him, though they didn't get his annoyance with the situation at all. Somehow, they thought teaching the scared people who should know better by now was fun. Then again, Talyn thought puke was fun. Maybe their ideas of what constituted enjoyable were a little fucked up.

But whose weren’t, nowadays?

Anyway, the point remained: Virgil hated this work. He hated doing it, he wasn’t good at it, talking to people and showing them how to do things they should rightfully already know was absolutely not something he could force himself to do with any degree of effectiveness. But they made him, because newbies didn’t die on his watch. What he did could not be classified as teaching; it was coddling and everybody pretended it was a good thing because nobody wanted to be on training duty and Virgil was new enough that he wasn’t allowed to complain too much.

So Virgil sat brooding in the passenger seat of the jeep with the three new recruits in the back and Talyn driving. They were going about a hundred feet back from the edge of the forest and then they’d walk the rest of the way into town, fill their packs, and head back out. It was a nice, easy little introductory trip that let them get used to moving with packs, using their brains to decide what was a need versus what was a want, got them used to seeing zombies, and, most importantly, how to take down a zombie in real time.

Talyn threw the car into park. Somebody whimpered. Virgil tried not to groan.

“C’mon, get your bags and stay quiet,” Virgil ordered. He climbed out of the car and didn’t wait for them to set off for the city. They scrambled after them, and Talyn shushed them before turning to Virgil.

“You think any of ‘em are going to die?” they asked. Virgil snorted.

“That’d ruin my record,” Virgil said back. It was Talyn’s turn to huff a laugh in that silent way you did when in a forest that there could be zombies wondering through. Virgil grinned at them, and Talyn smiled too. It was warm enough out today and there was plenty of sun. Not the best for going unseen, but it felt amazing on Virgil’s skin and it was way better than being cold.

“So, uhm, where are we going?” asked one of the newbies. Virgil shot Talyn a look. They rolled their eyes.

“The town.”

“Are we going to be...ya know? Killing things?” the man asked. He was walking close enough to be stepping on the backs of Virgil’s shoes. They were about to get their first real-time lesson early, and it was going to be about personal space.

“I don’t know,” Virgil hummed. “Are you holding a knife?”

“I-yes?” the guy stammered.

“I wonder why on earth that would be,” Virgil said. He chanced a glance back. The one speaking was eyeing the forest around him like they were going to be swallowed up any minute. The woman was walking cavalierly like she didn’t have a care in the world, knife in her hand and swinging by her side in a way that tickled Virgil’s anxiety. The third man was hunched in on himself, eyes darting around the trees at every noise, knuckles white from how hard he was holding onto his own hands.

Weird. He’d done pretty damn good in training. Wonder what he was so worked up about.

“Oh, well-” the first man started, but the woman cut him off.

“We only kill them if we see them. We’re not looking for them,” the woman said. “That’s what you said, right Tal?”

“My name is Talyn,” Talyn replied, and Virgil knew they were going to have fun with this batch. Conflicting personalities and all. “And yes, if you listened you would know that we’re only here for supplies and some controlled-environment action, should any show up.” The group slipped through the fence and crept up behind the first building. Talyn sent a chilling grin over their shoulder at the newbies. “Word of advice: don’t get bit.” That garnered another whimper, and Virgil sighed through his nose. This was going to be a long day.

They went through a quick round of rock-paper-scissors, which Talyn lost. “Damn. Alright, you two with me. We’re on a food run.”

“We’re splitting up?” squeaked the one Virgil was taking; it was the man who hadn’t spoken at all to this point. Virgil repressed another sign of his exhaustion and nodded.

“They’re on food, we’re on meds. Trust me, we’re better off,” Virgil said. “You know how to make a lot of noise?” He nodded, eyes wide. “Good. Don’t do that and we should be fine.” Virgil spun around, surveyed the empty streets, and then set off. The newbie kept almost on top of Virgil, obviously terrified despite his proficiency. Virgil waved him back, and he only stayed back for a few yards before getting close enough Virgil couldn’t breathe without bumping him again.

“Dude, back up,” Virgil snapped, glaring. “You’re fine. Stop acting like a fucking toddler and get your shit together.”

“I’m sorry,” the man said. “I just-I don’t-”

“I don’t care about your sob story,” Virgil cut in, sighing again. “We all have one, and I guarantee I’ve heard it before. Right now, you need to focus. Don’t think about what’s already happened to you or all the bad things that might right now. You are getting supplies for a community that is depending on you with a partner who is very good at he does. I know this isn’t the first time you’ve been around the zombies, you were out here for a long time before you came to us. You’ve lived this already, you’ll be fine right now. Okay?” The man seemed sorry-confused-embarrassed, but nodded nonetheless and then Virgil continued on. He lead them right up to the pharmacy with no other problems, and he carefully showed the man where to step so that he wouldn’t crunch the broken glass littering the floors and alert every dog-eared dead thing in the town.

“Alright, look,” Virgil said quietly. “Do you see how most of the shelves are empty? That’s because we hid a lot of the meds. It’s so that they’re not all in one place and if we’re sacked or over-run or whatever there will still be some for emergencies. Got it?” The man nodded. Virgil stared him in the eyes for a moment, examining his broken glasses and freckles, the deep brown eyes that...didn’t seem scared. Something else, maybe. Like hesitant or reluctant, but not afraid.

Stranger and stranger.

Virgil looked away. “For now, you’re just going to empty all of this section into your bag.” Virgil pulled open a few sets of cabinet doors hiding a treasure trove of bottles.

“Yeah kiddo, alright,” the man said quietly. Virgil wondered how old he was; if he was any older than Virgil himself or younger. It’s hard to tell, everyone so dirty and tanned and wrinkled and gray-haired well before old age. Anway, age didn’t really matter at the end of the day. What mattered was what you had been through, what had aged you whether or not you had the years to match, and Virgil knew for a fact that this man could not hold a candle to what Virgil had been through already.

He didn’t say that. Instead, he sighed again and started to shove droves of pill bottles into his pack.

The man made quick work of the pill bottles, and he moved astonishingly quietly. They barely even clacked as he dropped them in. Virgil wondered if this had been his primary job with whatever group he’d been with before. Getting in, getting supplies, and getting out quickly and quietly enough that no fighting had to be done. Virgil wondered what had happened to his old group that he had shown up alone in the middle of the night, half dead and being followed by a dozen zombies. 

Either way, it didn’t matter. It didn’t do to ask questions about where people had been or who they’d been with or what they’d done. It really was all just one communal sob story, varying a little from one person to the next. Virgil had his own leg of the journey stored away in a locked box; he didn’t need anybody else’s.

Getting all the supplies they needed only took a few minutes, and then Virgil was showing him again where to step. They made back onto the street without incident, and Virgil began to lead the way back at a leisurely pace. There was no way Talyn’s group would be done with the grocery run yet, and even if they were, Virgil wanted all the time away from those two as he could get. They were both so loud and talked so much it made Virgil want to scream. After living so long in silence, loud was hard to adjust to.

The shuffle of feet echoed around a corner a few yards behind them, and Virgil spun around. Perfect. A fucking zombie.

The newbie let out a short, trilling scream and pinwheeled to get behind Virgil. “Let’s go, let’s go. We need to run. We have to go, please. Please, we need to go.” The man wrapped one hand in the strap of Virgil’s bag and started to tug, trying to force him to move. Virgil planted his feet wondered how long it would take before the man gave up and left without him.

“Nah,” Virgil said. He motioned. “That one’s yours.”

“What? No.” The man shook his head wildly. “No no no. I can’t. I can’t do this, I’m not-I’m not made for this, please, we need to leave.”

“We will,” Virgil said. “Just as soon as you kill it.” He reached over and unsheathed the knife at the man’s side and pressed it into his shaking hand. “You know how to hold a knife, and how to dispatch a rotter. I’ve seen you in practice. This is your next piece of practice. Go do it.” Virgil dragged the man to stand slightly in front of him.

“No, no. I can’t. I can’t do it.” The man frantically pushed back against Virgil, but as much as he tried he still had nothing on Virgil’s strength.

“Why can’t you?” Virgil asked.

“I’m scared,” the new recruit whimpered.

Virgil, who had been scared most of his life, said, “We’re all scared. Be angrier than that. Be spiteful. Be compassionate. And do it anyway.”

“Compassionate?” the man whispered.

“They're suffering. If you're too afraid to do it for yourself, put them out of their misery. Bring food back to the kids. Find a reason that’s bigger than your fear and go.” Virgil shoved the man harshly at the zombie. He froze for a second, then brought his knife up in precisely the way he had been taught - he was surprisingly good in practice, caught on quicker than most, but moved with a certain stiffness and fear that they needed to work out of him before he was being depended on for protection - and slashed at it. The swing wasn’t perfect - most things weren’t - and it didn’t completely decapitate the zombie.

Three more rounded the corner.

“Shit.” Virgil ran up to the combat-engaged newbie. “You just worry about this one. Make it stay down.” He continued past him, drawing his own knife. His first hit drove the blade right into the temple of the first zombie to reach him. It went down like a ton of bricks, but the knife caught in its skull. Virgil released it and drew his second knife. Either he’d win and have to time get that weapon back after, or he wouldn’t be needing it anymore. It could wait for him.

The second zombie he kicked in the stomach. It staggered back and then crashed down to lie with the first. Not dead-dead yet, but out of the way for the moment so it wasn’t two-on-one. Virgil brought his knife up and, in a much better rendition of the same move the other man had attempted, slashed through the neck and spinal cord in one. The zombie fell. Virgil dropped to his knee near the last creature and jammed his knife through this one’s forehead. The knife hit concrete on the other side, and Virgil yanked it back out. He wiped the brain matter on the dead thing’s rags, and then man-handled the other knife out of the head of the other zombie. He wiped that one on the same rags and turned around to see whether or not the newbie had lived through his induction.

The man was standing, staring at Virgil with those wide, disbelieving eyes. He looked sick, and there was something on the ground next to him that could definitely have been puke. Virgil stalked over and poked at the zombie the man had killed with his boot.

“Good job, uh,” Virgil said. 

“Patton,” the man supplied, still shaking.

“Good job, Patton,” he reiterated. “You did it once, despite not wanting to. Now ya just have to do it again.” Virgil turned and began walking away. Patton looked almost dead himself when he got to Virgil’s side.

“Does it ever get easier?” he asked, and Virgil was struck with the urge to play dumb and pretend he didn’t know what Patton was asking about. Or to lie, and tell him what he probably wanted to hear - what Virgil wanted to be the truth.

Instead, he sighed. “For some people. For some people it gets easier, for some people it was never hard to begin with. But-but for people like you? I doubt it.” Patton let out a breath.

“Good. I don’t want taking life to be easy. Even if they’re already dead.” Virgil stumbled slightly at the words, turned to look wide eyed at Patton, but he seemed to not realize what he’d said at all. He kept shuffling along quietly, gray in the face and eyes scanning their surroundings quickly enough Virgil doubted he was seeing anything that was actually there.

He wondered what Patton was seeing.

Virgil shook himself out and grumbled, “I’ll make sure they don’t put you hunting duty, then.” It startled a laugh out of Patton, who then clapped a hand over his mouth and gave Virgil a sheepish look.

“Sorry. You just-you caught me by surprise there, kiddo.” He smiled, looking actually kind of genuine. Virgil didn’t return it.

“Yeah, well, get used to it. There’s plenty enough surprises out here.” Virgil sped up slightly so that Patton was following him instead of walking even with him, and they made the rest of their trek in silence.

Talyn was back at the jeep with the other two already, leaning back, doing a poor job of concealing their worry. Virgil waved a hand and they jumped up, watching closely as they approached.

“What took you so long? I thought we were going to have to send out the search party.” They raised an eyebrow - something they did roughly as often as Virgil sighed.

Virgil sighed. “We ran into a little trouble.” He stole a glance at Patton, and decided Patton probably wouldn’t want anybody to know that he’d killed anything. It wasn’t going to be a point of pride for him like it was for some. “We handled it, though. Wasn’t a big deal.”

“Did you kill one?” demanded the woman, eyes locked on Patton. “No, I bet you didn’t. He said ‘we’, so you probably didn’t help at all.”

“He was very helpful,” Virgil said.

“Unlike you,” Talyn added, sending a terrifying look at the pair. “They almost got us killed. Not once, not twice, but four times.”

“Wow,” Virgil said, deadpan. “I think that might be a new record.”

“People can always get stupider.” Talyn sighed, rubbing at their arm.

“I wouldn’t feel too bad about it, kiddo,” Patton said. “I cried when the zombie came up.” The woman and man looked oddly relieved at this information, and Virgil looked at Patton.

“Maybe we should all practice together,” the man suggested. “You know, so we’re all better next time.” Virgil made eye contact with Talyn. They shook their head. Virgil had absolutely no idea what was going on right now. He sighed.

“Get in the car. We’re heading back before something else shows up and somebody does die.” He climbed into the passenger seat, bag settled between his feet, and stared out the window. Yeah, what Virgil did? It wasn’t teaching. It was coddling and everybody knew it. He didn’t know why they had to send him out on these missions. He wasn’t any good at it.

In the backseat, Patton started to hum.

[kariachi]

Am I completely happy with the end of this? Not really. But It’s been like six hours and 2500 words and damnit this is what y’all are getting.

Some almost-OV-compliant royal Kev fic!

~~

“Tell me I’m not set to inherit anything.”

“Well that all depends on you,” the Speaker said. “As a member of the Imperial clan you are, by default, in the running for any major clan position, including that of Imperial Heir.” Even with his face buried in his arms, Kevin’s groan was audible. Argit rubbed his back and muttered something in his ear in Erinaen that had him groaning all the louder.

“What if I don’t want to inherit anything,” he asked. Gracidea shrugged.

“You’ll have to take that up with the relevant members of the clan. I’m just Voice of the Clan.”

“Then shouldn’t you-” Argit began, only to be interrupted.

“I haven’t been given authority to speak for anyone on this matter.”

“Of course not, we couldn’t be so lucky.”

~~

Things had gotten, rough, after the Rooters incident. Finding out your recently dead mother had never actually been your mother at all. Remembering your actual, not-so-recently-deceased mother. Learning your stepfather was a fake. Remembering your actual stepfather, who’d never been sober enough to be scared of you. Learning your relationship was started on a lie. Having that relationship strain as the traits that had been forced on you to facilitate it crumbled away. Finding out the man you’d been made to think was your father had never existed, remembering you at no point had any idea who your actual father was. The sudden influx of a load of forcibly-repressed trauma. These were all things that made life difficult for a young man who with every passing day really just wanted to buy some land in bumfuck-nowhere Chenango County and become a hermit raising sheep in the spaces he couldn’t restore to pre-colonial standard and occasionally throwing a new patent out into the galaxy.

There wasn’t much besides trauma Kevin’d gotten out of the situation. A few tentative friends? Siblings? Things did not stop being awkward there so… He’d gotten the Tennysons and some security out of the situation, which he supposed was a good thing. He didn’t count Argit on the list though, the longer they knew each other the more certain they each became that they would’ve found each other eventually. Nor did he count learning his species, unlike the Tennysons, because that he learned from Kwarrel.

His best father.

His only father.

No matter what anybody else said.

Gwen had been the one to spearhead the ‘find Kevin’s father’ campaign. She meant well, and it wasn’t as if her logic wasn’t sound- the Empire kept track of it’s citizens so in theory it shouldn’t have been too hard to find out who was on Earth and where at the appropriate time as log as they asked nicely. Very nicely. Exceedingly nicely. (In the end Kevin had had to ask, complete with a chunk of the story, because no Osmosian was going to give that sort’ve information to some random Plumberbrat.) In the end all Gwen wanted was for Kevin to have some loving, living family in his life. All Kevin wanted was for this to not turn out to be a shitshow.

At least one of them was getting what they wanted.

Kevin would’ve appreciated it being him for once.

They’d all been expecting- hoping, in Kevin’s case- to find something fairly mellow. Just some random shmuck passing through, who Kevin would be perfectly happy to have not want anything to do with him. (And where had that come from, when all his childhood he’d wanted to meet his actual father and have him at least give half a rat’s ass?

Oh. Yeah. Trauma.)

At best they’d thought they’d get a merchant, or maybe his father really was a Plumber at least. But no. Kevin didn’t get that lucky. What Kevin got was another Osmosian showing up at his door (the door for the house he’d bought his not-mother, the one he was thinking of giving to the other Amalgams), a Speaker for his father’s clan.

A Speaker for the Imperial clan.

Ben was never going to let him live this down.

If he didn’t just run away and buy that acreage tonight.

So he’d called up Argit, because like fuck he was getting any the Tennysons involved while he was off-kilter, and Argit had come out and the three of them started talking and-

And Kevin wanted to dig a hole and bury himself in it.

Because apparently his father was a prince. And just because that title didn’t technically extend to him (“I mean, Mother’s sire is a territory holder, but that’s a separate clan, there’s nobody you could have inherited the title from.” “Wait, if it has to be through his ma, then he’s not part of your clan either.” “We’ll get to that.”) didn’t mean he wasn’t already feeling it weighing on his already well-worn shoulders. Because really, like couldn’t go his way just once without a fight-

~~

“Okay, so, let me get this straight.” Argit leaned back in his seat, surprisingly little of his food eaten given Kevin felt like spending the next week stress-baking, and fixed Speaker Gracidea (his Aunt Gracidea) with a look that had once left Vulcanus fidgeting like a misbehaving third grader. She hardly even blinked. “Osmosians are part of their ma’s clan, which means Kevin can’t be part of the Imperial clan. But, he’s still in line for this shit.”

“Yes.”

“Because…?” Gracidea smirked, and Kevin could just make out Argit muttering about it ‘looking familiar’.

“As an adult member of the Imperial clan I’m allowed to adopt new members into the clan as long as I have the approval of the Clanhead. Approval I happen to have.” She turned to Kevin, expression softening. “Vaca would’ve come out and done it himself, but it was decided having a higher level of authority involved would be for the best.”

“Understandable,” Kevin about managed to squeak out, even if it really wasn’t. Gracidea nudged his plate closer to him and continued.

“It wasn’t as if it was a hard decision, mind. You’re an underage orphan of Imperial blood, we weren’t about to just abandon you now that we know you’re here.” He kind’ve wished they would’ve. Just how interesting of a life was he going to get before this curse was satisfied? “Besides, even if you weren’t blood, some… research has been done and Astel intends to make some examples of people.” Argit’s mane rose in interest, ears somehow twitching even further forwards.

“Examples of who,” he asked with the heavily veiled excitement of someone who was trying to maintain authority but also really wanted some people made examples of.

“Starting with the Magistrata and working her way down.” Turning to Kevin, Argit flashed a grin.

“I think I like these people.”

“You just like the idea that I might end up on a throne,” Kevin replied, swatting him on the arm.

“Well yeah, but along with that, I think I like these people.”

Again, Kevin dropped his head on his arms and groaned. Louder and longer this time.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Gracidea said, “we have plenty of cousins eligible for the same positions you are. Unless you make yourself standout as someone prime for the position it’s unlikely you’ll end up head of the clan, nonetheless Emperor.”

“Does it have to be an option at all?”

“Like I said, talk to Chern and Astel about it.” More groaning. “Is he always like this?”

“He’s had a very long… life, really. I think he’s expecting this to be another thing that blows up or crumbles in his face.”

“Huh. Any advice on making him not feel that way?”

“Talking like I’m here might help.”

“Not really. I mean the problem is that he’s normally right. Sometimes he’s not, but even then he generally ends up with somebody rubbing his nose in it so in the end he still turns out right.”

“Poor thing.” Curling up and dying was starting to sound more and more appealing.

“How am I supposed to tell the Tennysons about this?!”

“Don’t,” Argit said, scoffing. “Not their business, let ‘em find out with the rest of the galaxy when the Emperor apparently makes heads roll.” Gracidea chuckled.

“Oh it won’t be anything so easy.”

“Can we focus on my struggles for a moment please?!” Argit reached out to pat his shoulder.

“Look, there’s no hurry. I’m sure the Emperor’ll hold off on shit long enough for you to at least get comfortable with the whole situation-”

“She will. You’re clan, and the problem people aren’t going anywhere soon.”

“-so just, take you time. Get used to shit.” Grumbling, Kevin leaned into his touch.

“I’m running away. Gonna be a hermit in the New York wilderness.” Gracidea raised an eyebrow, but Argit just chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah, give me a couple hours to pack, leave a note letting Helen know how much the rent is on this place.”

“You will charge rent over my dead body.”

“It can be arranged.”

“You wouldn’t, then you’d have to ward me again when you brought me back.” Across the table, Gracidea’s expression was getting more and more fond.

“Kev, buddy, at this point I just count warding supplies as the baseline cost of knowing you.”

“I do not die that often.”

“Three times.” That got the Speaker’s attention.

“How many times?!”

“It’s not that many.”

“Yes, it is Kev. That is an excessive amount of deaths.”

“Agreed!” With a final groan, this one finally with an aggravated air instead of a ‘please kill me now’ one, Kevin shoved away from the table and stood. The other two stayed where they were, Gracidea gaping at him and Argit rolling his eyes.

“Look, you two wanna discuss that, go ahead, I’m gonna be in the kitchen, making dinner or something.”

~~

The problem was that Kevin was perfectly okay being a nobody. As a child he’d wanted attention, all the attention, any attention, but he’d grown up since then. He’d seen what having attention got him. How many times had he been kidnapped and/or enslaved now? And that was just as a result of his powers and being close to the Tennysons. How bad would things get for him if his being cousin to the Emperor of the Osmosian Empire got out? He was going to never know peace. And then add onto that the possibility of being chosen as Imperial Heir (was it likely? in a just world, no. in the world he lived in? practically guaranteed) This was his life, an ongoing disaster that sometimes tried to disguise itself as good things.

He didn’t want any part of it.

Oh there was a whole lot out there about how awesome loving families were, but it wasn’t worth the risk. Best case scenario, he ended up in charge on an Empire which he would probably ruin. Worst case scenario, everyone died. Most likely scenario, this whole thing fell apart around him, leaving him right back at square one but with even more trauma.

He had to stop listening to the Tennysons, really he did. They meant well, but they didn’t get it. Good things happened to them. Actual good things. Any good thing that happened to him was a trap. Which was why they couldn’t find out about this, because if they did not only would Ben never let him live it down, but Gwen would insist he go along with it. For his own good, she’d poke and prod and bulldoze right over him until he played along with a situation that was only going to end with him punching a wall.

It already felt like a five-puncher.

~~

“Kevin?” He was scrolling through his phone when Gracidea walked into the kitchen, going through property listings as he waited for dough to rise and sauce to meld. And now considering if throwing himself out the front window would be rude.

“Yeah?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” She leaned against the opposite counter, giving him plenty of space. “I know having this dropped on you is probably rather…”

“Overwhelming? Disconcerting? A blow to the gut for somebody whose opinion on authority is generally ‘fuck off’?” He flashed her a half-hearted smile. “Tell me when I’ve got it.”

“That, all sounds about right,” she said, then sighed. “Nobody intends to force you into anything, you know. Not even having anything to do with us.” Clearly she had never met a Tennyson in her life. “Yes, it would give us more ammunition to tear down those who’ve denied you your rights and your justice, but even if you refuse to become part of the clan we’ll still pursue them, if just to prevent mistreatment of further chicks.” Scraping his teeth over his lips, Kevin sighed and put down his phone.

“Mike Morningstar.” Gracidea chirped questioningly. “He’s another Ossy hybrid, don’t know anything about his clan or if he even has one but, it’s not near as much as me-” thank fuck, he wouldn’t wish that shit on anyone “-but he’s been through some shit. Ya know, if you need more names to throw around.”

“We didn’t really but,” her eyes were narrowed as she spoke, “it certainly won’t hurt. I’ll have the matter looked into.” Kevin nodded and the room lapsed into silence as she looked him over. “You know, you might make a decent clanhead.” He actively kept himself from tensing. “Even if you don’t accept an adoption, at this rate within a few years you’ll have made enough of a name for yourself to start a clan of your own.”

“Yeah,” Kevin replied with an awkward chuckle, “that’s not the best idea. Not exactly the most stable person, in case that didn’t come up in your ‘research’.” Gracidea just shrugged.

“You get it from my mother, and she’s made a great leader.” She smiled at him. “I admit, I don’t know you well, yet, but from what I’ve seen there’s some potential there. I’d rather it be added to the clan, I’d rather you be added to the clan, but it’ll come out somewhere regardless.” He bit his cheek, checking the sauce for something to distract himself. “We’d love to have you, Kevin, but your comfort is more important. Just, consider it. Please.”

Kevin glanced at her. Easily as tall as Aggregor had been, if not more so, though maybe it was the antlers giving that illusion. Dark hair, dark scutes, and those same blue eyes that had come to Eric seemingly out of nowhere. Smiling at him, the asshole.

“I’ll… think about it,” he said, and her smile widened the slightest bit.

“It’s all I ask, nibling-mine.”

~~

There was a good hundred acres of land available right where he wanted it for only a few hundred thousand.

Kevin put flying back out east on his schedule.

[cruelangelstheses]

red jenny needs a rhythm guitarist!

fandom: dragon age rating: T characters: sera/female inquisitor, sigrun, charade words: 2k additional tags: modern au, punk rock band, first meetings, fluff description: one night while performing with her band, the red jennies, sera spots a beautiful girl in the crowd. a/n: this was supposed to be done for yesterday - @serappreciationweek day 3: headcanons/aus - but i was delayed due to having to evacuate for hurricane dorian lol. anyway this type of au is my fav thing ever and sera said gay punk anarchist rights

read it on ao3

—

The air thrums with anticipation. Backstage, Sera can hear the buzz of the crowd as she finishes applying her eyeliner, fucking it up on purpose because she loves the way it looks. She laughs and sticks her tongue out until it touches her septum piercing. Everything about her calls for chaos: old sneakers with holes in them, ripped skull-patterned shorts, spiked cuffs, tattoos on her arms, a black tank top hand-painted with the anarchy symbol, and a myriad of piercings in both ears—some studs, hoops, a chain, and an industrial piercing. One good thing about being an elf, she’s found, is that she has more space for them.

Behind her, Sigrun whistles the opening of one of their songs. “You about ready?”

Sera spins around in her chair and grins. “Frigging right I am.”

“Well, good,” Charade adds as she makes her way toward them, her bass guitar slung over one shoulder, “because I think they’re getting antsy out there.”

“Dagna said they were almost done,” Sigrun says as she takes a look in the mirror and smudges her eyeliner so that she looks a bit more...dead inside. Her knife earrings, black fingerless gloves, black jeans, and combat boots add to the “don’t fuck with me” look, complete with a black leather jacket that she’ll probably take off halfway through the set so she doesn’t die of heatstroke. Still, her dedication is inspiring.

As if on cue, Dagna, the band’s audio engineer, appears in the doorway of the dressing room. “Everything’s all set up,” she says with a smile. “Whenever you’re ready. Knock ‘em dead.”

Sera jumps to her feet and claps her hands together, grabbing her black-and-yellow guitar from off the floor. “Yes! Okay!”

In the center of the room, the Red Jennies form a tight circle. They’re a three-piece group, a “power trio,” with Sera as the lead singer and guitarist, Charade as the bassist, and Sigrun on the drums. It’d be nice to find a rhythm guitarist so Sera can focus on lead guitar, but they make it work. Charade has her hair tied back into a bun and is dressed in her usual getup: jean shorts, a t-shirt from the thrift store, and a plaid flannel, this one red.

Once they put all their hands in the center, Sera starts their chant. “Never mind the rich tits!”

“Never mind the bullshit!” Sigrun adds with a smirk.

“Never mind the bollocks,” Charade says, laughing.

Then, together, throwing their hands up in the air, they shout, “Here’s the Red Jennies!”

Sera leads them out of the room and up the stairs. The music playing inside the bar stops, and the crowd roars in excitement. They know what that means. It’s a relatively small venue, but it still packs a decent amount of people, and the show tonight is sold out—sold out for them. The Red Jennies are the main act. The idea makes Sera’s head spin.

Sera is the first person to step onstage, and the crowd cheers louder as the band takes their places, Sera and Charade plugging in their guitars and Sigrun sitting down at her drum set. Then Sera grabs onto the microphone with one hand and shouts, “Make some frigging noise, Wycome!”

As the crowd yells, Sigrun taps her drumsticks together four times to count off, and then they jump into their opening song, a politically-charged anthem aptly titled “Eat the Rich!!!” It’s one of their more “screamy” songs, which is why it’s first: perfect to pump up the crowd, as well as remind them why they’re here.

As Sera takes in the crowd, she notices a pair of bright purple eyes shining near the back of the venue. The fact that she can see them glowing all the way from the stage is enough to tell her that they belong to another elf, though she could’ve figured that out by the pointed ears poking out from underneath the girl’s mop of brown hair, as well as the distinctly Dalish tattoo that surrounds her left eye. She’s sitting at the edge of the bar with a drink in hand, watching the show with interest and looking as though she’s never seen the Red Jennies before.

For a short, weird moment, Sera feels...exposed? Judged? An age-old fear grips her, that she’ll be looked down upon—like always—or seen as uncivilized, crazy, a traitor to elves, perhaps all of the above if she’s unlucky enough. But then the girl looks right at her, right at her, and smiles, a snaggletooth grin that transforms her whole face, and those fears wash away, and Sera is herself again.

Alright, pretty elfy girl, she thinks. I’ll give you a show.

The concert is a whirlwind of jumping and sweating, of starting mosh pits and screaming her lungs out to a room full of strangers. It’s wild and cathartic, and no matter how many times she does it, she never gets tired of it—of reaching fans new and old, of hearing people yell her own words back to her, of music so loud she can feel it in her chest. When she’s surrounded by the wailing of her guitar, the heat of the stage lights, Charade’s voice on backup vocals, the rapidfire drums...that’s when she’s home.

Sometimes they hang out after a performance, and sometimes they don’t. Luckily for Sera, they have a day off between this show and the next, and they’re not planning on leaving Wycome until tomorrow, so they have some time to mingle. The girl at the bar only seemed to get more and more into the performance as it went along; Sera will be damned if she doesn’t at least speak to her.

She practically leaves her bandmates in the dust, as she heads back out into the bar barely ten minutes after the end of the show. “Sorry! Have to catch a pretty girl!” she calls over her shoulder. “Updates later!”

It takes a little while to get to the bar, since the crowd still hasn’t really dispersed. Since she’s small, it’s not difficult to weave through people without them really noticing, but she gets caught more than once by a fan. They’re wonderful, though, so she doesn’t really mind. Normally she loves talking to fans, and she still does; it’s just that tonight she has someone specific in mind.

It’s her lucky day. When she finally reaches the bar, she finds that not only has the pretty girl not left yet—the seat next to her is empty. Taking a deep breath, Sera pulls herself up onto the barstool and says, “Hey.”

The girl jumps a little and turns around, her eyes widening. “Oh. Hey!” she says, and Maker, her voice is so nice. “Great show, by the way!”

“Uh. Thanks,” Sera replies, already feeling her face heating up. The girl is even prettier in person, all tan skin and kissable lips and eyes like starlight. Sera doesn’t normally go for elves—too afraid they’ll think she isn’t elfy enough, and besides, a lot of them are too skinny and bony for her taste anyway—but this girl’s arms are more toned than most elves’, and her face is rounder and fuller. “I’m Sera. If you didn’t know.”

The girl giggles a little, rubbing the back of her neck. “I didn’t, actually,” she says sheepishly. “I’d never even heard of you guys until a few days ago. My brother bought two tickets and gave one to me. Don’t know where he is now, though.” She shrugs and takes a sip of her drink. “I’m Rana. Rana Lavellan.”

Her name sounds like music. Sera nods. “Saw you when I was up there, yeah?” she says, gesturing to the stage. “Your eyes are really...wow.”

Rana smirks a little. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

For a moment, they both just kind of stare at each other. Then Sera clears her throat and says, “You ever listened to any punk before us?” She smiles mischievously. “Or did we take your punk virginity?” She says the last bit in a more dramatic voice.

Rana laughs. “Unfortunately, no, you did not,” she says, “though that would’ve been something. My brother invited me because he knew I liked your kind of music.” She deepens her voice in order to impersonate him. “‘Rana! You have to check out this band! They’re a bunch of punk rock lesbians singing about eating the rich! All your favorite things!’”

They both laugh at that. Then Rana adds, “Sometimes I think I’d like to be in a band. But I don’t usually get along well with other people. I have to really click with them, or see something in them that makes me want to talk to them.”

Suddenly, Sera feels immensely honored to be having such a fantastic conversation with her. “Oh!” she says. “What instrument do you play?”

“Guitar.”

Sera swears that the stars align right then and there. “Wait,” she says, trying not to get too far ahead of herself just yet. “Can you play rhythm?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Rana replies immediately, and then it starts to dawn on her. “Oh, yeah, I noticed you’re the only guitarist—”

“Want to join the Red Jennies?” Sera blurts. She can feel her heart pounding in her chest.

Rana blinks a few times, somewhat taken aback. “I...didn’t realize you guys were looking for a new member.”

“Well, we’re not, like, putting up ads on Craigslist,” Sera says, speaking quickly, “but we think it’d be nice to have a rhythm person if we could find one, ‘cause then I can do more cool shite on lead.”

Rana seems to think it over for a few moments, and then she nods. “If the other members will have me,” she says, “I’d be honored.”

“They will!” Sera says, finally allowing herself to get excited. “Really. Sigrun looks scary, but she’s lots of fun. And Charade’s a sweetie. Kind of have to work to get on her bad side. It’ll be good! Promise!”

Something twinkles in Rana’s eyes, something like amusement or endearment or pleasant surprise. Her face breaks into that beautiful snaggletooth grin again, and she says, “Then I would love to join the Red Jennies.”

Sera has to cover her mouth to stop from yelling with joy. Holding an index finger up, she pulls out her phone and sends a text into her group chat with Sigrun and Charade: I GOT US A RHYTHM GUITARIST!!!! SHES CUTE AND COOL AND LIKES PUNK AND HATES THE RICH AND I THINK SHES GAY???? DSJFDKFLKSJKD

Charade replies with some shocked and happy emojis. Sigrun says, pics or it didnt happen

Sera tries not to laugh. “They want a picture!”

Rana raises an eyebrow, but there’s a good-natured smile on her face. “Alright.”

Sera opens up the front-facing camera and holds her phone up so that both of their faces are in the shot. Sera does her standard pose—putting a peace sign up to her mouth and sticking her tongue out—while Rana just stares into the camera with a serious face, like she’s posing for a fashion magazine or something. Sera wonders if it’s possible to die of gayness.

When she sends the selfie into the chat, Charade says, Ahhh Sera that’s amazing!! Can’t wait to meet her!!

Sigrun writes, oh she’s definitely gay

Sera grins and turns to Rana, who is watching her expectantly, as if she’s expecting Charade and Sigrun to hate her. “You’re in, Buckles!”

Rana cocks her head. “Buckles?”

Sera nods. “Right. Buckles. That’s you. Said you’re not too good with people, yeah? Like a boot buckle. Serious. But take the boots off, and there’s the softness.”

Rana stares at her in awe for a moment. “You came up with that just now?”

Sera shrugs. “Well. Maybe a few minutes ago.” Suddenly feeling self-conscious, she adds, “I can change it if you think it’s stupid.”

Rana shakes her head and smiles warmly. “I don’t think it’s stupid. I like it. I think it’s kind of brilliant.”

Sera tries not to blush and glances down at her phone, where she sees another message from Sigrun. This one reads, Go get her, tiger.

Sera grins. “Well then, Buckles,” she says, “welcome to the Jennies.”