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theshapeshifter100 · 2 years

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Jackieboy-man and IRIS

So this is the result of a conversation on The Watch discord between me and @dawnstar13, and @isa-ghost‘s posts.

If I stare at this work much longer I might scream

Word Count: 2,141

Warnings: strong language, kidnap, inplied needles (right at the end)

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IRIS, like many dubious facilities, has levels of security. Not all key cards allow all access. Not all security personnel have the same level of training.

Not all the corridors have the same level of security. Not all of them had a pair of guards every five metres and three, five-inch steel doors going down it.

At the far end of this corridor, is an eleven-inch steel door. Two blocks of five-inch steel and one-inch of lead. Naturally.

On the other side of that door, a figure paced. He paced at the speed of a sprint, moving across the room that only had a basic bed shoved against the back wall. In a corner near the ceiling a camera sat, a black blob in mostly grey room with an ever present, blinking, red light.

Jackie glared at it as he paced, blue eyes flickering bright green. If he messed with the camera, this already cramped room would be stormed by armed and protected guards and he’d be hauled somewhere with even less space. As if that was going to help.

The bastards fucking kidnap him, pump him full of shit, drag him out every now and again for random tests, and then just leave him. What the fuck?!

The anger made his brown hair flare the same bright green as his eyes before settling again, glaring at the camera again before slumping onto the bed with enough force to send loose sheets flying up.

His eyes naturally fell on the door. The stupid, fucking, door. Thicker than any door had any right to be, with one of those panels in the top that can slide open so someone could look in. Smug pricks.

His eyes flicked from the camera to the door. Maybe…

Planning and prepping with an ever-present camera was tricky. There was always the chance that someone was watching, and the already sparse room would be tossed. At this point he was lucky to have a bed frame and not just a mattress on the floor.

So, spur of the moment it was.

In a blur of green the camera was ripped from the wall and Jackie had pressed himself against the wall by the door, counting down.

There was shouting outside that he could just pick up on, thumping of boots and rattling of guns as the near endless supply of grunts filed outside.

3…2…1…

0…

-1…

Okay these guys really needed to work on their timing.

Five beats late, the door burst open, and Jackie was already moving.

He couldn’t fight these guys. He was stronger definitely, but if enough got their hands on him, he was screwed. They had training and numbers. So running was the best option.

His hair and eyes glowed green and the world slowed to a crawl as he darted past armed guards in black tactical gear. Word seemed to be getting around and the doors ahead were starting to close. At the speed of a snail, so if he took his time, he might have rush to make the last one.

There was an extended boom of a gunfire, and Jackie had the time to look over his shoulder to dodge it. He passed the first door, glided through the second…why was the world getting faster?

Jackie’s breath began to rattle in his lungs as he slowed. No no no no no no no! That door was closing!

He stumbled through the final door as it hissed shut behind him, green glow stuttering like a candle in the wind. The few remaining guards on this side hesitated, all of them appearing confused for a minute.

The dozen blinking cameras in the corridor made Jackie focus, and before the guards could recover he had punched a couple hard enough to rattle their brains and send them to the ground. The last remaining one swung a baton, which Jackie caught and accidentally crushed.

Both of them stared at the plastic splinters that now littered the floor, then back up at each other. The grunt wisely stepped back.

“That’s what I thought,” Jackie tried to sound tough before he jogged past. Corridors extended past in all directions, making it seem like an endless maze. Knowing IRIS, it could be.

“Shit.”

Noises filtered out from all directions, different volumes, they didn’t make sense. He could hear the sound of klaxons wailing as clear as he could hear the scientists clanking forks against bowls while they were on break.

His ears rang with the sudden influx of noise and he pressed the heels of palms against his ears and screwed his eyes shut in pain. He needed to get it together!

Thundering of boots caught the edge of hearing, and he forced his hands away from his ears. They were getting closer. He had to go. It hurt, but he had to move.

He had to move.

His eyes flickered green as he ran, suddenly able to see so much. He could see those scientists on break, rooms away. He began to walk, and immediately hit a wall.

He grunted in pain and stepped back, closing his eyes and shaking his head. It wasn’t helpful, that power needed to go, and he needed to think!

There was no way in hell they would keep him near an easy escape, underground surely? He hadn’t seen outside when his eyes had done the x-ray thing. So, stairs? Then, he must be able to punch his way out. If he could shatter a plastic baton, without trying then a concrete wall was doable with force.

He managed to find a set of stairs before the first lot of fresh grunts found him, rounding the corner as he opened the door to the stairs. They weren’t afraid to open fire, but even he knew at this point that the bullets would just bounce off. It was like getting rubber balls thrown at his back, mildly annoying.

“Come on, come on super speed,” he ran as fast as he could up the stairs. His hair and eyes flickered rapidly as he tried to get back into that headspace. He wanted to run like the wind, he needed to run.

The glow became steady, and the world slowed down around him.

“Yes!”

Jackie fist pumped and he kept going, passing grunts and scientists before they even knew he was there. Green emergency exit signs started to appear, and the speed kept coming. No time to be complacent, the joy of the run, of impending freedom, kept it all going.

Laughter hit his ears. High pitched. Mocking.

Chills run up Jackie’s spine and he skidded to a halt, casting around to see if he could find the source.

The speed faded and the world returned to normal speed. Klaxons wailed as lights flashed red, but otherwise, he was alone.

Or… was he? Was that a human shape he could see between the flashes?

Nope. Nope nope nope nope he was not sticking around for that!

He ran straight for the emergency exit and burst out. The wall cracked from the force and the door hinges might have broken, but it didn’t matter.

For the first time in who knew how long, Jackie could feel the breeze on his face, see the night sky. He was just in a grey t-shirt and joggers, no shoes, but that wasn’t important, not now.

He looked back at the grey facility, weirdly small for the maze he’d just run through, then took off into the night.

It took a while for him to get set up. He couldn’t go by his old name, even if no one thought he was dead, it would be the quickest way to find him. For him to get dragged back… No. That wasn’t going to happen.

Because of that though, he had no money, no official identity, nothing. It was hard, almost impossible some days.

There were times where he almost wished he was back in that cell, at least it was warm, and out of the wind, with food. It would only take a second for him to realise why that was a shit idea.

Still, he got somewhere, eventually.

A flat, a new name, part time job, moonlighting as a superhero.

If you’ve got powers, might as well use them, right? He was getting better with them all the time!

A red morph suit, a blue mask and some good shoes was all it took to start with, then it was stopping muggings, breaking up fights, that one guy who brought a digger to dig up a cash machine.

The police weren’t fond of him, but hey, very few superheroes had the police on their side. Not everyone could be Batman, and he was definitely more Spiderman than Batman. Which was good, Spiderman was his favourite.

Still, things were building up. He’d heard word of a ‘Red Room’, of kidnappings, which did make his stomach turn, and his skin crawl, but he needed to do this. No one else had to go through what he did, or worse. The Red Room didn’t sound like IRIS, they at least pretended to have a point. The Red Room sounded like pure sadism.

The first stage, finding who was behind it, then where they were taking these people.

That was how, instead of investigating in the real world, Jackieboy-man was sat in front of his computer, psyching himself up to go pouring through the nightmare that was the Dark Web.

“Alright,” he cracked his knuckles. “You got this, Jackieboy. No fear!”

All of the fear.

Every single light in his flat was off and the curtains drawn, just in case anyone got suspicious of what he was doing at 3am. This was mostly for creepy guys who knew or worked out that he was digging into stuff, or just the police getting suspicious. Last thing he needed.

He had been warned, however, that people could find him just from him going through these websites. That was…great. He’d be fine. He was Jackieboy-man! Of course he’d be fine!

As he clicked through disgusting website after website, half of which wouldn’t load, put hacks down before they had the chance to begin, he could feel his palms sweating. The suit, which he had put on to help him feel brave, was sticking to his back. It wasn’t that hot in here, was it?

His hair sparked green with nerves and he swore he could hear things that he shouldn’t be. His hearing was sensitive these days, but he shouldn’t be able to hear beyond normal night-time stuff. Why was he hearing footsteps? There was no one there!

The last time he thought that…

He spun rapidly in his chair, eyes adjusting from staring at his screen. Nothing. The flat was empty.

Jackie let out a nervous laugh and pushed green and brown hair out of his eyes. He was fine, everything was fine. Well, nothing he was looking at was fine, but he, currently, was safe. Safe as houses. Had to be.

There was breathing, but he was nervous, it was his own breathing damnit!

He clicked away from the Dollmaker site, feeling ill and like spiders were crawling over his skin. There was a gentle ‘thunk’, which sounded like the bathroom window falling shut.

He jumped out his skin and spun to look in the direction of the bathroom in the dark flat.

Hadn’t he already shut it? Or maybe he hadn’t? Why would you shut a bathroom window? Steam and smells and stuff needed to get out. It was just the wind, he probably just needed to get the latch looked at.

Breath rattling and heart pounding, he turned to look back at his screen.

Moments later something was pulled over his head.

Jackie let out a muffled scream and struggled as he was yanked off the chair, said chair clattering to the floor. He yelled and kicked out, smashing the table where his computer sat, and he tried to pull the bag off his head. Many hands grabbed his arms and forced them behind him, and the body weight of many people pinned him to the floor.

“GET OFF ME!” he bucked and squirmed, and horror jabbed his belly when he recognised the tactic. “NO!”

Something sharp jabbed into his upper arm, and Jackie continued to struggle, with more people adding their body weight to keep him down, until he felt like he might suffocate. How were there so many of them? How had he not heard them?!

Gradually, his struggles began to slow. Tears of frustration and fear soaked the inside of the bag over his head until the noise faded, and he went limp.

Mission successful, Jackie was secured and dragged away.

Less than 24 hours later, it looked like no one had lived in that flat in months.

It has been a while since I’d written for the egos. This is not likely to continue

Could there have been more lab rat details? Sure. Am I confortable physically writing that and putting it out for people to read? Absolutely not.

#Jacksepticeye #Jacksepticeye egos #Jackieboyman #IRIS #TheShapeshifter100 writes

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transfemmegeddylee · 1 year

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Post-race

Short summary: Jackie meets Francois in the garage after the race.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Francois Cevert/Jackie Stewart

Warnings/tags: omorashi, watersports

Author's note: I'm begging you that if you don't like this, don't read/interact it'll save us both a lot of grief

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It was the end of yet another race day. Jackie had managed to bag another win today, with his adversary Francois Cevert standing on the second stair of the podium with him. He was always eternally proud of whenever Francois performed well and especially because of how much he had taught Francois in their years together. He’d tell him that later, though, because one thing was for certain. Jackie had had way too much water to drink and needed some relief.

He made his way through the pits, accepting congrats from his fellow drivers, fistbumps and hugs and more. As he just started passing the Tyrell garage, he heard a familiar voice dripping with a French accent calling out his name.

“Jackie! Oh Jackie!”

As much as he needed relief, he couldn’t deny Francois the time of day. Funny, though, how Francois had been hanging out in the back corner of their garage where nobody else was, as crew members had mostly all left by this point anyway.

“Jackie, how are you feeling?” Francois started off.

“Proud of you! Do you know how well you did today?” Jackie began excitedly.

“Thank you, dear,” Francois responded, “but what else are you feeling?” His voice had something of an edge to it now, but Jackie couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. He also noticed that he was now the one backed into the corner with Francois standing over him.

“Uhh…” Jackie wondered aloud. “I don’t know. Tired? It sure has been a long day.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Stewart.” His voice was more stern now. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been practically limping through the paddock after the race today. You have to go to the bathroom again, don’t you? You need to stop drinking so much water.”

Jackie didn’t exactly know where Francois was going with this, but it was starting to make him uncomfortable at being called out like this. “Well, yes, that’s where I was going…” he trailed off. “In fact, I should probably get there soon…”

Francois smirked something devilish and laughed. “You should have gotten there sooner instead of coming to talk to me. Because I’m not letting you leave. You can certainly go, but you can’t leave.” He was towering over Jackie in the corner now, his arms holding him up above the little boy.

“W-what are you talking about? Francois, I need to go!” Jackie attempted to take a step past Francois, but he was blocked by his larger frame.

“I told you, I just want you to stay here with me. You can go anytime you like,” Francois said in mock innocence. He smiled at Jackie in mock innocence as well.

Jackie’s mind was whirring. There was absolutely no way Francois could just bar him from leaving like this, but he knew the man wouldn’t take no for an answer from him. He also knew there was absolutely no way he could just go right there, in his racing overalls no less. And with Francois watching him so intently.

“I… okay…” Jackie almost whimpered.

Francois immediately changed the subject. “So, Jackie, how was your racing today? I know you won today! I’m so proud of you too!” He giggled and smiled so widely that Jackie couldn’t help but melt. Even when he was being put in a situation like this he couldn’t help but melt for Francois.

He engaged with him in the conversation, trying to ignore the dull ache in his lower region. He stepped from foot to foot, but that only made him feel the liquid sloshing around inside himself more.

He wasn’t sure how long they’d been talking for. 20 minutes? A half hour? However, by this point he couldn’t ignore the ache anymore. He’d trailed off in the middle of what he’d been saying to Francois, too.

“Jackie?”

“Francois… I really have to go to the bathroom…”

Francois huffed and put a hand on Jackie’s waist. “Dear, I already told you that you could go whenever you wanted.”

“But- but- we’re in the garage! And I’m in my overalls! Here! With you! Plus, it’s embarrassing!”

Francois frowned slightly at the smaller boy. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to deal with that, then.” He moved his hand from Jackie’s waist to rest over his bladder area and he gave a small shove.

“Francois!” Jackie exclaimed. “What are you doing!?”

“Helping you,” he replied simply as he shoved again, this time also bringing up his other hand to rest under Jackie’s crotch.

Jackie wriggled and whimpered in Francois’ clutches but he was unable to escape. He was starting to panic slightly now, even though he knew in the end he’d have no choice. It would be extremely embarrassing, but a small part of him didn’t mind since he knew he’d be doing it for Francois. He tried to ignore that part though and focus on escaping.

Eventually, the moment came that Jackie was dreading. Francois shoved him especially hard and he was starting to lose control. He could feel a wet spot starting to form on the inside of his fireproofs and there was nothing he could do about it. “Francois…” he begged, looking up at him pleadingly.

This only seemed to encourage him. “Jackie, you’re so cute like this, you know,” he mused.

“Francois, no-”

Suddenly, that was the end of that and Jackie had fully lost control. He squeaked and crossed his legs, shoving his hands between them to try and stop the starting flow, but to no avail. It was as if his muscles were actually listening to Francois and had just given up on him. He squeezed his eyes shut as he couldn’t bear to look on at the horror of what was happening to him. Here he was, a grown man, an F1 driver, pissing his pants in the middle of the garage, in front of his best friend. He was horrified at himself as his brain felt the wet heat of the piss spreading down his overalls and didn’t even protest all that much. It almost felt… nice, in a way.

Francois still had a hand resting under Jackie’s crotch, feeling all of the dripping wetness up close and personal. His other hand was over his mouth now, trying to hide his adoring smile to keep Jackie from feeling more embarrassed.

Jackie seemed to go for what felt like an eternity, an agonizing one for him but a lovely one for Francois. When the stream finally started to taper off, Jackie just barely opened his eyes, making sure to stare far away and not downwards at his soaked overalls or the puddle around his feet. “Francois, I’m so sorry,” he couldn’t help but croak.

“Dear, don’t apologize. You’re such a good boy and you were so lovely like that. Thank you for allowing me to indulge,” Francois told him lovingly. He took his hands and looked him in the eyes. “Come, I’ll even help you clean up.”

Jackie warily followed Francois to the bathroom for real this time as he grabbed a new set of Jackie’s overalls off the shelf. He kept his senses wide open for if Francois was going to pull any other piss-related shenanigans.

#f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 rpf #french stew #stewvert #omorashi #omo #male omorashi #omocute #piss kink #piss k1nk #fc #js

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mrb52563 · 2 years

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I DONT NEED MISGUIDED INFO OR LINKS THATS DONT MATCH WE NO THIS MATCHES WERE AWARE FROM 1974 THE ROYALS NEW ALL ACTUALLY FROM 1965 SO WINDSOR THE RUNNYMEDE JFK LINK SO WE DONT NEED MEDIA TO MP OR USA SAYING YOU DIDNT NO SEE WHY BLOCK FROM 2015 social media if you didn’t no so EMILY THORNBERRY ED BALLS ED MILIBAND DAVE MILIBAND TO YVETTE COOPER SCOTCH LINK

LABOUR NEW ALL SAME CONSERVATIVE EVEN ROYALS NEW SO ADVICE OR YOU NO BETTER

No you don’t no better

We own all even in USA richard nixon to jackie kennedy 1994 death we have all and I can’t be framed or killed why dead at 1984 SO LOOK AGAIN LAW FRAMED THEN THEY FRAME WESTWOOD AFTER GRENFEL TOWER POINTERS UK GOV

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skylawrites · 3 years

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A/N: Hi! I wrote this a month or two ago, based on the song "Achilles Come Down" by Gang of Youths. And it turned into this! It's Hurt/comfort. With some angst. Also I would like to mention that if any of my stories have a spelling or grammar error that I missed feel free to correct me! So I hope you enjoy!

Trigger Warning: Suicide attempt. Suicidal Thoughts. Yelling/fighting.

Davey was tired. He was tired of having to deal with this stress. The stress of everything going downhill. His family's health wasn't the best at the moment, and in a result he was being ignored. His basic needs being pushed aside because someone was worse off. He didn't want to resent his family but he didn't know how not to. How he was expected to be this perfect boy, when he too was human and made mistakes. His dad had gotten badly sick and now Davey had to work twice as hard as before to pay for the medical bills and so his family had a place to live.

He had basically been put in charge of caring for Les because his mom was constantly at work. Which in its self was hard. How do you raise a child at age 17? He didn't even have his own life together.

Davey was done.

The cold wind whipped through his hair. The lights sitting the sidewalk seemed small from the edge of the building. The people looked like ants, each having a role in society's anthill. And what was Davey here for? He wanted to have a life. Be able to talk to his friends again. If he had any left, after distancing himself from them for so long.They probably hated him, didn't want anything to do with him.

His feet were pressed against the edge. Looking below at the concrete, which he would soon hit. When he took this next step he would be gone. In a flash. No more running, no more hiding. Just gone. He wished he could say goodbye to Les one last time. But he couldn't back down now. Hopefully Les will understand. And someday grow to be a responsible, successful adult.

Taking a deep breath and absorbing the last of the feel of New York. His home. Then he stepped off with one foot.

🗞🗞🗞

Jack and Crutchie stood in the streets. Walking to their rooftop in which they lived to settle down for the night. Jack sighed in frustration . Davey had been avoiding Jack for 2 weeks now. Why? He had tried to exchange conversation but every time Davey didn't seem to hear. He wasn't coming with the others to Jacobi's like usual. Nor had he seemed to talk to anyone else. Jack hadn't seen Davey smile in a long time. And to say the least he just missed Davey. Was it something Jack did or said? Maybe if he-

"What's that?" Crutchie asked snapping Jack out of his thoughts and back to reality. Crutchie was pointing towards the top of the building. It was hard to make out but jack saw a person. Standing dangerously close to the edge. Jack immediately understood what was going on and gasped.

"Crutchie keep heading home I'll be right there." He said urgency prominent in his voice. As he was running away he called behind him "if trouble arises go to the theatre!"

And with that Jack was off. Climbing the fire escape stair by stair, the rattling sound of metal resonating through the silent night air. When he made it to the top he shook with shock.

Davey started to fall. But something Jerked him back. Something caught his body, hurling it back, Landing on top of someone with a thud. He hissed in pain.

"What the hell dave,"

Davey would recognize the voice of Jack Kelly anywhere. But opposed to the confident, sarcastic, flirtatious tone he usually had his voice sounded weak, scared, hurt.

Davey didn't respond. A hot tear glided down his face.

Jack placed a hand on Davey's shoulder. Looking him in the eyes.

"Why?" He whispered out.

Davey didn't respond.

"WHY!?" Jack yelled.

Davey couldn't look Jack in the eyes. His forced the words out of his mouth

"Jackie I am so sorry..."

then he broke. Falling to his knees on the pavement. Sobs racking his frame.

"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry."

Jack took his arms and wrapped them the other boy.

Chiding him. He stroked a hand through Davey's hair.

Tears spilled out of Jack's eyes as well.

Davey cried until he had nothing left in him. He sat sniffling and gasping for air. He pushed away from Jack. Standing up.

Jack stood as well. Both boys eyes were red from the crying.

Davey turned to walk away.

"I should get going it's getting late,"

"You say that as if nothing ever happened."

Davey chuckled. Wiping his wet eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

"I guess I've got a few minutes to spare."

Rain began to spill out of the dark clouds above. Smashing against the pavement.

Jack looked at Davey then at the streets. He grabbed Davey by the arm. And led him down the stairs and off the roof of the building.

As the ran became harder Jack's pace quickened. He hoped Cruthie had made it back to the rooftop alright. Just as he went to turn into an alleyway Jack ran into someone. He looked up, his eyes meeting none other than Oscar Delancy.

"Oh my? If it isn't our favorite little newsboy." He snarled.

Jack took a step back. Regaining his stance. Oscar raised a first. Morris's eyes caught Davey's and had a mutual moment of understanding. Morris grabbed his brothers fist before he could do any harm.

"Let's get going. It's getting late." He said gesturing towards their apartment.

Oscar looked pissed but didn't really have to energy to argue with Morris.

He looked Jack in the eyes one more time and said, "don't think you're getting some special treatment Jack." Before flipping him off and leaving.

Davey mouthed "thank you," to Morris and he nodded back.

The rain began to come down harder. Thunder boomed. Davey and Jack exchanged a look.

"My house is about a mile down." Davey said. "We can split paths now? Or you could come home with me?"

Jack examined the sky. The wind was picking up speed.

"I know a better place."

He pulled Davey about a block down until they were outside the theatre. Jack swung open the back door and Davey followed him inside.

They stood gasping for air, clothed drenched.

"Is that you Jack?" A voice called. As Medda appeared in front of the boys.

"Yeah," Jack greeted her,

She examined the boys and exclaimed "oh my, it is really coming down out there. Here take these."

She threw 2 towels to jack and he took one a wrapped it around his shoulders and the other around Davey's. Medda looked over at Davey's tear-stained face.

"Would you like some water dear?" She asked.

Davey nodded. Medda turned to walk away, Jack stopped her.

"May I get one too?"

"Yes Jack," she called behind her.

When she had left Davey went over to the nearest wall. He leaned and sunk to the ground in a sitting position. Plopping his face into his hands.

Jack sat down next to him. And wrapped an arm around him in comfort.

Davey sank into the embrace and sighed.

"Jack, I am so sorry,"

"Hey," Jack wiped the tears off Davey's face. "We went over this, I ain't mad."

"I- I know but-"

"There's no buts. I'm just happy your alive Dave."

Davey let out a small laugh. And whispered "me too."

Davey fiddled with his hair. Which stuck to the sides of his face. Dripping with rainwater.

Jack noticed and took one of the towels by his side and ruffled it through Davey's hair. Davey burst out laughing. And playfully slapped Jack with the towel beside him. Jack lowered his hands placing the towel on the ground. Davey's hair was now just damp and had started to become frizzy.

Miss Medda returned with the water a few moments later handing them over.

They both thanked her.

"If you boys need anything else, don't hesitate to ask alright?"

"Alright." Jack confirmed.

When she left again Davey leaned his head on Jack shoulder. Jacks face flushed a bright red. He rubbed soothing circles on Daveys back. Both boys sat for what seemed like hours. Before drifting off to sleep.

Medda had come back into the room a little while later to find the boys soundly sleeping on each other's shoulders. She smiled to herself. Those boys really were made for each other.

1,396 words

A/N: If you ever feeling Suicidal please reach out. It's important for you to take care of your mental heath. And I know that times may be hard. And it may seem like it will never get better, but it will. So stay around. And find the thing that makes you want to stay.

I hope you enjoyed that! And I should have another oneshot soon after I edit it! I hope all of you lovely humans have a wonderful day!! （＾∇＾）

- Sky ☁️

#newsies #fanfic #newsies fanfiction #jack kelly #david jacobs #davey jacobs #javey #javid #hurt/comfort #newsieshurt/comfort #angst

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falseroar · 3 years

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Dog Days Part 15: Going for a Walk

((Y/N is talked into going on a walk that does not end well. A second attempt, however, allows them to meet some new faces--and discover one they didn’t expect to see again.

Warnings: It wasn’t my original intention, but Y/N being stuck in wolf form could come across as body dysphoria, especially in some sections here. This section also has the former DA dealing with anxiety and negative thoughts.

Here are links to the previous part and to the whole series, if you need them.))

Jameson and Jackie walked into the house to find Chase seated in one of the living room chairs, slumped forward only slightly so that he was on eye level with the wolf sitting a few feet away from him. He didn’t look away as they walked in, and aside from a twitch of your ears, your silver-clouded eyes did not break their stare with Chase.

“What happened to taking a walk?” Jackie asked, setting down the folded puppet theater stage behind the couch for now.

“Still working out the details,” Chase answered. “I could get one of those retractable leashes that go out, like, 15 or 20 feet.”

You narrowed your eyes, considering the image, before shaking your head. Last thing you wanted was to accidentally get tangled up with a mailbox or something.

“What if you wore the leash, but just let it drag behind you until someone else comes along?”

You tilted your head, but Jackie shot that idea down quickly, saying, “Nope. If Y/N goes out, I want at least one of you sticking close to them. Last thing I want to do is spend my night visiting every dog pound in the city looking for a disguised werewolf.”

Chase finally broke his staring contest with you to hold up the enchanted dog collar for Jackie to see the tag hanging on it. “Marvin made a tag with his number on it, just in case.”

Jameson stepped closer to get a look and frowned. “It doesn’t have their name on it.”

Good, you thought to yourself. You might have been tempted to tear it apart yourself then.

“Yeah, he didn’t think that was a good idea,” Chase said with a shrug as he flipped the tag over himself. “Not sure why he put a cat engraving on there, though. Must’ve gotten bored or something.”

Your personal thoughts on that were soon forgotten when you caught a whiff of Jameson, or at least one particular scent hanging around him. It was faint, mixed in with all of the other scents picked up walking around the city and performing his show, but for a brief second you caught an almost familiar, hazy mix of stale tobacco and coffee tinged with the musty scent of leather and gunpowder. A sharp, wistful feeling hit you but then the already faint scent was gone, lost among the sharper, fresher smells.

You paced around the room, your sudden restlessness unnoticed by the others who were still talking about whether the cat engraving was another spell or just Marvin trying to stay on brand, until you came to a stop in front of Chase and sighed before nudging his hand.

You’d take the collar, even the leash, if it meant some fresh air and a change of scenery. Anything to take your mind off of the memories trying to reemerge.

Chase and Jameson weren’t about to question it, and soon they walked out of the house with you looking once again like a too large Irish wolfhound. It was strange, looking down and seeing a different body than what you felt or remembered, but then you had plenty of practice getting used to having the wrong body at least once a month even before this. As long as you didn’t look at your paws too much, it was easy to forget, and the visual reminder that you didn’t look like a wolf was nice every time the three of you passed one of the neighbors out in their yards or on the sidewalk.

It was easy to forget about the leash too, until you felt the stretch of nylon held loose in Chase’s hand brush against a shoulder blade or slide across your back, like when you moved to put the two of them in between you and another pedestrian going the other way.

Easy to forget, but as soon as you remembered it was all you could focus on: the leash, the weight of the collar around your neck, the other people, the sudden but unshakeable sense that they could see you, that they knew, that at some unexpected second the spell would break and the screaming would start.

You didn’t even realize you had started shaking until Chase and Jameson stopped at the corner, until Jameson dropped to a crouch in front of you to make sure you could see his hands sign your name.

You took a deep breath, or tried to, and then another, until you were lying on the sidewalk, paws over your eyes and ears in a futile attempt to block out the suddenly too bright sunlight washing out the monochrome world around you, the voices of strangers and the constant noise of cars driving by and leaf blowers roaring and it was all too much.

You don’t know how long it took, of Chase and Jameson sitting there with you, Chase reassuring the passing neighbors that you were fine while Jameson stroked your back and signed his own reassurances that you couldn’t focus long enough to see, before you were finally ready to stand up and walk with them back to the house, head and tail down in shame. You just knew that the sun was setting, and the three of you had barely made it to the end of the block.

They tried to tell you that it was okay, Chase saying he shouldn’t have pushed you to go out until you were ready, Jameson saying something about little steps while Jackie and Marvin tried not to sound too happy about the idea of walks being shelved for now. When the doctor emerged from his room for the night, you chose to go into your own room while the others tried to be tactful about how to explain what happened.

Nothing they said could help the embarrassment and then anger you felt at yourself, for not being able to handle something that should have been so simple. Right? It was just a walk, what was wrong with you?

You paced around the room, pausing at the neatly folded pile of clothes left at the foot of the bed you hadn’t slept in since the full moon. Something one of the others, Jameson by the smell of it, had left there without a word, in case you need them.

In case you changed back.

What was wrong with you?

You left your room, skirting around the others on your way to the backdoor. Your teeth found the short length of rope hanging from the sliding door, but when you turned to close it from the other side a hand on the frame kept it from sliding. You looked up to see Marvin’s cat mask, the shape a white, fuzzy but still distinctive blur in front of a tangle of dark hair, the eyeholes two black pinpricks through which you couldn’t make out his eyes.

“…We’ll be in here in case you need us, okay?” Marvin said, and you looked away before nodding. Right now, you just needed some time to yourself, and the others seemed to respect that.

Even as the shadows in the yard lengthened and night came on, you just heard the door slide open once, Jackie’s voice letting you know there was food ready when you wanted it, until Jameson came out to let you know he was going to sleep but his door would be open if you wanted in. He knelt next to you in the grass, just as unbothered by trying to keep his dress pants clean as he had been before on the sidewalk, and brushed the top of your head once with his hand before going back inside.

You were okay out here. You could still hear the sounds of the neighborhood coming over the fence, the steady hum of cars passing by and distant voices. Was it really that different than going for a walk out there?

Than being paraded along on a leash, playing the role of a dog because that’s all you seemed to do these days.

What was wrong with you?

You paced around the yard, each go around making it feel smaller and more cramped than before, until you knew every single divot in the grass, every leaf and branch and clump of stubborn weeds, until you felt ready to scream.

When you finally pulled open the sliding door and slunk inside, it was to a mostly dark house. Someone had left a light on for you, and there was a plate full of cold food waiting on the kitchen floor that made your stomach twist at the smell of it. You padded your way down the hall and found Marvin, Chase, and Jameson’s rooms all dark and silent, their doors cracked open in case you were ready to join any one of them in sleep. Jackie, it seemed, had gone out for the night, and the doctor was long gone.

But you weren’t ready to sleep. You weren’t sure what you wanted to do, what you were looking for as you walked around the house until you stopped at Jameson’s boxes of props, left behind the couch and apparently forgotten after the walk. You sniffed, taking in the scent of different fabrics and Jameson’s familiar smell, before you caught it again. Just a flash of that odd but too familiar blend of scents that left an ache in your chest that you didn’t want to think about.

You backed away and bumped into a side table, where you heard the clink of metal against wood. The tag of the collar scraping against the table where Chase had left it earlier.

You didn’t remember making the decision, just knowing it was a bad idea even as you tried to slide the collar off the table and knocked it to the floor, even as you pushed it around with your nose until you finally found the edge, until you finally slipped the loose fit up and over your muzzle, eyes, and ears, until it came to rest around your neck.

You shook your head, the tag jingling, but when you looked down it was to see the body of a wolfhound again. You could take the collar off right now, and leave it at that.

But you didn’t. Your paws couldn’t work the front door, not without causing enough noise sure to wake one of the others, but you could go back out through the back door and slide it shut behind you. At the side of the house, you looked up at the gate separating you from the front yard, the top of it nearly blending in with the night sky.

You could probably jump that.

Another walk around the yard, another chance to build up some courage or talk yourself out of it, but as you approached the gate again your steps changed, moving from pacing to running to a full sprint, until you launched yourself up, up—

And felt your chest hit the top of the gate as you completely misjudged the height of it, the wind leaving your lungs as you stopped and made a less than graceful roll over the fence and onto the ground on the other side. The blow hadn’t even scraped the skin, but you had to lay there for a second and let your pride recover. At least no one seemed to have heard or seen that, and when any noise failed to come from inside the house you eventually got back up and shook yourself again, the jingle of the collar letting you know it was still there.

Outside once again, but it was an entirely different experience now as you walked through the yard and stopped at the edge of the road. It was so quiet now, the nearby houses still and dark, the sound of cars a distant hum with pockets of silence in between. Where before the sunlight had washed out your vision, turning everything into nearly unidentifiable shades of white, the streetlights now cast just enough light to give an edge to the shadows, to make it easier to ignore the gaps in your vision and make the lack of color seem more at home.

Without the noise and the voices and the fear of being watched, you could take your time, rely on your nose and hearing just as much if not more than your eyes without being distracted.

Almost like practice.

You took a deep breath and caught the doctor’s scent, still lingering in the air from when he left earlier. There, something to follow, a goal to work toward. The doctor’s clinic wasn’t that far from here, and a walk there and back seemed more than doable. After all, he did it every day with no trouble at all. Just a short walk, on your own, to prove you could do this. You could do this, and you could turn around at any moment without anyone to judge.

It was a slow walk, your senses on high alert for any noise or sign of anyone else as you followed the doctor’s trail, but aside from surprising a raccoon digging in the trash and a bout of internal cursing directed at whoever had dropped a still warm cigarette on the ground that briefly lit up your sinuses like the Fourth of July, it was also a quiet walk.

You were almost surprised, when you reached the end of the trail and found the light coming through the windows of the still open clinic. You paused near the door, snout scrunched up as you caught a whiff of the same smell that had been on the doctor’s shoes earlier—had someone spilled something here? It was a faint, almost medical smell, but for some reason it reminded you more of Marvin’s room and his work than the doctor.

You didn’t have long to consider it, as a pair of headlights rounded the corner, filling the street and in your eyes washing everything white, and sent you darting into the nearest alley. You waited, heart pounding, and when you heard the car pull to a stop across the street you told yourself you were only backing away because it must be one of the doctor’s patients, that you couldn’t risk them spotting you and telling Henrik about the giant dog they saw outside. Reason enough to get out of there, turning and running down the alley until you were on the next street over, where you were realizing too late that there wasn’t a clear way to double back around.

In his car, Abe sank back into his seat with a groan and rubbed his eyes. For a second there, he thought he’d seen something move out of the corner of his eye, a dark shape near the doctor’s office. Too many hours driving around, trying to narrow down the right house, too much looking over his shoulder in case he was being followed again. He needed a new plan, a different angle on this problem.

While the hunter tried to figure out what he was missing, you continued walking, emboldened by making it this far on your own and curious about how much the city had changed while you were gone. Maybe it was the darkness, your messed up vision and memories playing tricks on you, but some of these roads seemed so familiar, the curve and bend of the streets like some you had walked up and down so many times before except the buildings on either side were all wrong. Every now and then you found one that looked slightly familiar, but just like the street signs hanging overhead, no matter how hard you stopped and stared, you couldn’t quite make out the letters on their darkened signs. The rest were a mystery, leaving you with a vague sense of things being slightly off as you wandered from one street to the next in search of any kind of solidly familiar landmark.

The lights of a large hotel drew you near, one you thought you recognized except that it seemed taller now, the front of it missing the statues you thought you knew. Then again, you thought as you squinted upwards at the white walls, maybe they were there and you just couldn’t see them.

Someone was coming, multiple someones.

You could hear footsteps on your left and on your right, and after a moment of panic you backed into the street, trying to convince your already racing heart not to panic.

Both sets of footsteps were slow, one measured and accompanied by the clack of wood hitting the pavement, the other more erratic, occasionally speeding up only to stumble and slow again.

The stumbling footsteps were the first to reach the halo of light around the hotel’s entrance, but the heavy scent of alcohol surrounding the man beat him there. Clearly someone who had spent a little too long at the bar, he swayed on his feet, muttering under his breath about strays when he caught sight of you but otherwise keeping his distance.

Keeping his distance from you, at least. At the foot of the stairs to the hotel’s entrance, the drunk man’s path crossed with the man coming from the other direction, who was leaning hard on a wooden staff nearly as tall as he was. Rather than wait for the slower man to pass out of the way, the drunk man shouldered into him, hard enough to knock the other man off of his feet.

Said man hissed when he hit the ground, the sound so full of pain that without thinking you moved to check and make sure that he was okay. Granted, you realized a little too late, having a huge dog looming over someone probably wouldn’t be helpful, especially when you saw that the man on the ground’s eyes were wrapped with stained bandages.

But, maybe hearing you or feeling your presence, he reached up and gently touched the side of your head before patting your neck.

“The Host—”

“Watch where you’re going, you useless bum!” Despite knocking him down, apparently the drunk man thought he had every right to be angry. “And keep your mutt on a leash before I call the pound on it!”

You heard the spit hit the ground near your front paw more than saw it, and that’s when you felt the blind man’s hand on the back of your neck tense, as though ready to hold you back. Or, perhaps, to keep you from running when he took a deep breath and began to sing.

It was a soft melody, one you didn’t know but somehow familiar to you, like you’d heard and forgotten it long ago. It was beautiful, nostalgic, enchanting—and so very, very wrong.

The drunk man stopped on the hotel steps, his entire posture changing so entirely that it was like someone else turning and walking back toward you, and toward the man who you now realized smelled of blood and saltwater and who sang with so many voices layered and mixed in to each other, like a choir pouring out of one mouth whose song both made you want it to never stop and want to get away from here as far and as fast as possible.

The drunk man’s face was in shadow with the light of the hotel behind him, so you could see nothing of his expression as he returned and helped the blind man up to his feet. The blind man took the driftwood staff when the drunk man silently offered it to him but didn’t stop singing, and didn’t let go of the grip his other hand had on your neck, on your collar.

For a second, you felt your entire body tense. You hadn’t sensed something like this since the time you stared down another werewolf, a murderer who wanted nothing more than to tear you open—it was the presence of another predator, one carefully weighing his options.

Before his song shifted, becoming almost airy as the drunk man took out his wallet and with shaking hands pressed several bills into the other man’s chest before turning and walking back up the stairs. The song gradually faded as the door closed behind him, before the blind man sighed and relaxed his grip on your collar.

“Petty, but the Host feels a little better now,” the blind man said out loud. You could still hear it, the other voices lurking underneath his “main” one, although they were quieter now. His hand pressed down slightly harder on your back, as though feeling your heart pounding, your unsteady breaths, and he chuckled. “He would have hardly been an appetizing meal for the Host. Who, for the record, also has no interest in werewolf meat. Too chewy.”

You pulled away from him, hackles up as you backed away, a low rumble in your chest that you hoped would be threatening enough to warn him away.

The Host, if that’s what he was calling himself, just tilted his head and raised his hand. You saw the light reflect off of something in his hand, and the realization sank in that you could no longer feel the weight of your collar on your neck.

“There is the smell of magic on this,” he said, shaking the collar just enough to get a noise from the hanging tag. “But not enough to hide the smell of wolf. The Host…apologizes, if his comment seemed out of line. He really does have no interest in harm tonight.”

You hesitated, doubting whether you could really believe that but not willing to leave that collar behind. Every second you were standing on the open street as a wolf felt like a second tempting fate, for someone to drive along or look out of one of those hotel windows and see you.

So as much as you didn’t want to get any closer to whatever this man was, when he held out the collar you could only struggle for so long before giving in. He helped guide it up and over your ears, and despite not being able to feel the spell take hold again you still gave a sigh of relief.

“A risky form to take in this city, but…understandable,” the Host said. He gave a soft sigh of his own before shifting his weight with an easy to miss wince of pain. “Being human is difficult, isn’t it?”

You nodded without thinking, before realizing he couldn’t see you do so. But for a moment, you thought you could hear the pain in your chest at those words echoed in his strange voice.

“It seems as though the Host suddenly has money for a good dinner tonight. Perhaps he could tempt you to join him?”

You tilted your head, with a curious whine. The sudden offer presented so many questions that you didn’t even know where to start, even if you could actually put a voice to any of them.

“There is a restaurant near here that doesn’t worry too much about the shape of its customers, and the Host would…appreciate the company. And if he may be honest, he hopes that perhaps a friendly gesture might encourage you to share your story with him one day, should that become a possibility. There is nothing the Host enjoys more than a good story, and he suspects yours will be an…interesting one.”

Yes, you supposed running into a werewolf masquerading as a dog probably would probably raise a few questions. And if you were honest, your own curiosity about this stranger was slowly getting the better of you, even considering the lingering sense of danger every time he so much as spoke.

Plus, as your growling stomach was too eager to remind you, you kind of hadn’t eaten in a while. Still, no reason for the Host to laugh at that, and your ears fell back to your head in a pout even as you followed him down the street. The Host walked slowly, his breath catching as though every step hurt, but he soon fell into a steady rhythm. Walking beside him, you startled when his hand rested on your back, only to realize that he was checking to make sure you were still there.

“The restaurant is not far from here,” he said as you walked together, your pace falling into step with his. “It’s close enough to the harbor to get all kinds arriving at any time of day or night. The Host has gone there often, just to listen to the stories passing through.”

Stories again. He said the word with the same relish as someone might talk about a fine wine or a rare treasure, and you wondered how much control anyone had over what they told the Host, once he asked with that strange voice that had so easily enchanted the other man.

It didn’t take long to reach the restaurant in question, where light and several voices spilled out of the glass doors, sending a new tremor up your spine that made you wonder what you were doing here. You stopped short, ready to turn and run, and the Host stopped with you.

“The Host does not believe anyone would questions a blind man with a dog, if that is a concern. And should it come to it, he can easily make people stop asking questions.”

You gave a low growl and he shrugged.

“But he doubts it would come to that here. So long as the meal is paid for, any customer is welcome here.”

Reassuring, but more reassuring was that those doors looked easy enough to push open from the inside, even with a set of paws, which meant you could always make a run for it if you had to. Plus, the smells coming from inside of the building were doing a lot to make you forget about anything else.

The host standing at the door did do a double take when the two of you walked in, but didn’t say a word when the other Host asked for a booth, just as the waiter didn’t even blink an eye when the Host ordered for both of you. In the space of seconds, you found yourself sitting at a table across from the Host, trying hard to keep your claws from puncturing the vinyl seat underneath you.

You tried to keep calm, tried to focus on the bowl of water sitting in front of you in place of a glass, tried to tune out the clatter of eating utensils on plates, the scrape of chair legs against carpet, the voices, so many people, why were this many people in a restaurant at this hour of the night—

“Easy, easy,” the Host murmured, the other voices growing a little stronger, washing out the other noises and filling the booth with his soothing tone. “Breathe in…breathe out…Focus on one thing at a time, start with right here and my voice…”

He kept talking, drawing your attention to the water, encouraging you to drink, then to count the lit candles, focusing only on the small lights that dotted the room and nothing else. As you did so, you realized that while it was brighter in here compared to outside, the only light in the room came from the lit candles and a fireplace in one wall. The Host encouraged you to ignore the long table full of people talking and to listen to the crack and snap of logs burning, to watch the flames flicker and leap.

“The Host often finds himself overwhelmed in the city, surrounded by so many voices, so many stories. Removing himself from the noise is not always an option, but narrowing his focus, choosing one thing to occupy his mind and fill his attention until he is ready to face the next, that has helped him more than once.”

The Host paused and sighed heavily before adding, “Although he understands completely if the extra company proves unbearable.”

You tilted your head, trying to figure out what he was talking about, when you heard the thump of footsteps so heavy that they sent tremors through the floor. As you looked for the source of the sound, a huge man that you could have easily mistaken for a bear at first sight entered the restaurant and greeted the crowded table near the fireplace with a shout.

Almost immediately, his eyes seemed drawn toward your table and the Host, who was slowly sinking down in his seat. A huge smile lit up the small square of face that wasn’t hidden by his hair or massive beard and the newcomer strode over, a pair of thick, wooden legs supporting his huge frame and punctuating every step.

“Look who it is! Me favorite crewmate, with the voice of a dirty angel!”

He slapped the Host’s back, nearly knocking him face first into the table, and asked, “What brings you around here at this hour? Don’t tell me yeh’ve heard the ship’s sailing first thing in the morning! Not anglin’ to join me crew again, are yeh?”

“The Host is just here to enjoy a good meal with a new acquaintance.”

The captain looked at you and nodded, as though completely unsurprised. “Mighty fine-looking dog. Mind if yeh scoot over and let the old captain join you two?”

Not that you had much of a choice in the matter, as you soon found yourself wedged in the tiny bit of remaining seat in between the captain and the wall. You winced as he shouted to the waiter for his regular order, the sound so loud that you could feel it. Everything about the captain was huge, from his size to his voice to his smell, but if the Host’s advice was to find one thing to focus on, the captain made that easy. With him next to you, there was no hope of anything else in the restaurant distracting you, that was for sure.

“What’s your dog’s name?” the captain asked, already patting the top of your head.

“The Host does not know, but they are not a dog, and they do not belong to him.”

“Hm, well this collar here says…” The captain leaned in to get a look at your tag and frowned at the engraving Marvin had made. “That this here is a cat? Well, what do I know, if that’s what yeh feel in yer bones that yeh are, who am I to question it?”

He ruffled your fur again, leaving you confused and slightly dizzy as he turned his attention back to the Host.

“So, what would it take to get yeh back out on the sea again?” The captain nudged you with his elbow and (loudly) confided, “Not the most useful in traditional piratin’, but this guy here has a talent when it comes to picking new members of the crew. Can tell yeh everything about a guy after two minutes, and he can sing anything, especially that one song that always makes me blubber like a little babe.”

“The Host is not singing ‘Baby Shark’ again, no matter how many times Captain Magnum tries to bring up that infernal song.”

Captain Magnum sniffled. “Aye, probably for the best. Even thinkin’ about it brings a tear to me eye—”

“Why?” the Host asked, and you suspected it wasn’t the first time.

The captain went on to both tease the Host about his time on the ship and not so subtly suggest reasons for him to come back, and sitting here between the pirate captain and the man with the strange voice, it slowly dawned on you: siren.

You had heard bits and pieces, stories and legends of creatures who lived in the sea or on rocky shores, with voices that could tempt a person to do anything, even dash their ship to pieces on cliffsides or leap into stormy seas never to be seen again. The stories were never confirmed, but when a ship went missing or a crew came back to the docks too shell-shocked to ever go back out on the water again, well, it was easy to have something to blame besides a negligent captain or novice crew. Even hunters were split on whether such a thing even existed, but the longer you sat with the memory of how the Host’s song affected that man, the more sure you became.

And here was Captain Magnum, trying to get one back on his ship. Did he know what the Host was?

If he did, would he even care?

You were starting to guess on that last one by the time the waiter returned with your food, which he placed on the table before nodding to each of you in turn and walking away. Leaving the Host to pick up a fork and the Captain to skewer his barely cooked steak with a knife.

Leaving you to look from them to the plate in front of you, mouth already watering at the smell even if the monochrome bits all looked the same, only to feel the same dread that began to build with every meal back at the house. Except here you couldn’t just wait until the others were gone or distracted, not when they were literally sitting right next to you.

Before the mirror, you never once ate in wolf form. To be fair, you had avoided being in this shape as much as possible, but it never occurred to you to even consider the idea. Now, you were all too aware of every bite, of being on all fours hunched over a plate or a bowl, of being seen as just another animal. It’s when you heard his voice the most, the mocking tone, the jokes you could only too easily imagine him making if he could see you now.

An elbow nudged your ribs and the captain winked at you as he said, “Yeh better eat it before I do, that’s all I’ll say.”

“Captain Magnum is not bluffing. The Host says this with far too much experience.”

The captain grinned and took another bite of his steak, which he was holding up on the end of his knife like it was an overlarge shish kabob, his teeth easily tearing through the meat without any need of another utensil. The Host meanwhile was making his way through a fishy-smelling meal you couldn’t quite see from the other side of the table, but the size of the dish was large enough to fit quite a few whole fish on there.

You looked back down at your plate and cautiously took a bite. Neither one was watching you, too focused on their own plates, and before long you found yourself licking the bowl clean until the last grain of gravy-soaked rice was gone.

The Host let what looked like an entire intact fish skeleton drop to his plate with a happy sigh, and the captain licked each of his fingers before wiping them off with the extra-large sized napkin the waiter correctly assumed that he would need.

“Not bad,” the captain rumbled, and the Host nodded as the waiter returned to take their plates away.

“Perhaps thanks for the chef are in order?” the Host suggested, and the waiter seemed visibly surprised for the first time tonight.

“Really? I mean, he would love it, but, uh, our chef isn’t the…friendliest guy around,” the waiter said, getting a laugh out of the captain.

“He can join the club then! Send him out and I’ll give him a thump on the back meself.”

The waiter shrugged and headed for the kitchen, dirty dishes in hand. Meanwhile, the captain turned his gaze on the Host with what looked like a knowing gaze as he said, “Not like you to suggest somethin’ like that, Host. Almost friendly-like, if I didn’t know better.”

“The Host appreciates a good meal.”

“Hm. And taking care of someone else’s do—er, cat, too.” The captain ruffled your fur again, causing the tag on your collar to jingle. “Yeh’re not up to somethin’ now, are yeh?”

“The Host is very much not getting involved in anything at the moment,” the Host said, and you couldn’t tell if the sound of his other voices getting louder was supposed to mean he was being emphatic or absolutely lying. “And again, they’re not—”

His correction about you would have to wait, as he was interrupted by a shout from the kitchen followed by the doors bursting open.

“Who’s got somethin’ to say about my cooking?” the chef snarled as he walked out, waving away the waiter trying desperately to explain with the ladle still held tight in his hand.

All of the other sounds in the restaurant became a white noise, your ears ringing as you recognized that voice and the silhouette growing steadily more focused as he zeroed in your table. You would have known that angry tone anywhere, and as the chef’s face came close enough for you to make out, you realized neither had changed a bit since the party.

You stared openly, thoughts numb as the Chef slowly realized that the Host and the captain were actually complimenting his food. You listened as, totally flattered, he described how he opened this place with his bare hands, sweat, and tears. And maybe the financial backing of an old coworker who inherited quite a bit when their old boss kicked the bucket, you eventually connecting the dots and figuring out that he was talking about Benjamin the former butler.

And Mark.

He didn’t know, he really didn’t know that Mark had lived, that he had left the house. Just like it had never hit you until now that the others could still be out there. The Chef, Benjamin, George, they had all left while they had the chance, before…

You had to rest your head on the table as the restaurant began to spin, as the Chef’s appearance kicked up more memories than you could shove back down in time. You were almost relieved that he might be about to go when another person walked up to the table, wanting to talk to the Host and the captain.

“Meri! Ready to join the crew, then?” the captain asked the young woman, whose smile almost rivaled his own.

But it was her scent that caught your attention. She smelled a lot like the sea, in a similar but somehow distinct way from the Host, and yet there was another smell clinging to her skin and her clothes, a scent that you had recognized before but couldn’t bring yourself to think about, to even imagine it could be—

“You bet I am,” she said, before clasping her hand over the Host’s, a movement that seemed to take him by surprise. “Thank you, thank you for telling me about that hunter. You were so right about him, Abe—”

Whatever she was about to say next was interrupted by your front paws hitting the table as you rose up and bounded forward because, while you couldn’t kiss her or the Host for bringing you here, you could do the next best thing and try to lick both their faces. Flipping over the table in the process wasn’t the plan, but by that point you couldn’t care less.

Because he was alive.

He had survived the shot, he’d gotten back up again.

Abe, your Abe, was still alive and still out there somewhere.

And you, well, now you just had to find him.

((End of Part 15. Hope you’re enjoying the story so far! Thanks for being okay with a longer one this time, I would have felt bad leaving it at them jumping the fence. Plus I just really, really wanted to get to that final reveal already.

Link to Part 16: Caught on Camera.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch @autumnrambles @authorracheljoy @liafoxyfox ))

#markiplier #jacksepticeye #fanfiction #wkm district attorney #werewolf au #chase brody #jameson jackson #the host #captain magnum #wkm chef #abe the detective #sometimes you just need to do things on your own terms #and in your own time #and that's okay

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inkribbon796 · 3 years

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In their Place Ch. 3

Chapter 3: A Shattered Reflection

Summary: Illinois and Eric rejoin with the group as Damien’s condition persists.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3

While the fight with Dark had been going on, Illinois was busy taking the hero’s bait and circling around Eric.

“Well, well, what’s a cute thing like you doing in a dangerous place like this?” Illinois smiled at Eric. “Ooohhh, dulcito,[1] this suit looks amazing on your calves. Tell me who made it, so I can commission them to make more.”

“Logic and Bing,” Eric was blushing under his mask.

“Well! I know where my next paycheck is disappearing off to,” Illinois decided, and out of the corner of his eye he saw a pair of Jims racing over with a camera. “Well let’s put on a little show for the cameras, hero.”

Eric startled and looked at the camera. Illinois didn’t even give him time to be embarrassed because he dove right for him and began a fight that was half wrestling, half throwing magic that if it hit Eric was mostly a light show; and all a show for the camera.

Both Illinois and Eric were having fun playing it up for the cameras when Illinois’s heat physically lifted off his head and Illinois caught the little bronze star inside it glowing a violent dark purple and kept trying to tug the hat in a direction. The direction that Dark had flown off to fight the heroes.

“Let’s lose the paparazzi, dulcito,” Illinois told Eric. “My old man needs some help.”

“Ills, wait,” Eric told him before Illinois produced a couple smoke bombs and dropped them around them. He scooped Eric up into his arms and ran off with him. Both of them disappeared into the smoke.

The heroes had finally relocated outside the ruined building, taking Damien and the chair with them.

Marvin was pacing and trying to come up with a new idea. Silver was floating nearby with a new mask, courtesy of Marvin. Jackie standing to him, talking. Patton was sitting on the ground next to Damien. And the mayor had an ice pack to his chest and a cigarette in his mouth.

Damien had a lot to think through, he was apparently in the future, he’d been running around with a demon. His father would have killed him if he was still alive.

He needed to finish his cigarette, go home and take a nap.

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out,” Patton tried to reassure Damien helpfully. The mayor rolled his eyes. He’d been told the hero next to him was named “Captain Morality” and along with not being an absolute asshole had given him the ice pack. So Damien was pretty sure that out of the three he was currently Damien’s favorite.

Then Marvin stopped and looked at two people running over. “Shite! Illinois’s comin’ in hot.”[2]

“Where is he? What did you fuckers do?”

“Ills.”

The arguing was giving Damien a migraine, he couldn’t deal with more new people. He was still sore from the apparently failed exorcism. Or maybe it was successful, he’d never even been allowed to see one to tell.

“Slow yer[3] roll casanova,” Marvin ordered.

Rolling his eyes, curiosity got the better of him, and he looked back to see someone standing next to Marc. He was the only one not masked and he looked younger than Marc. Damien looked at the dark hair, the light tan complexion, the way his eyes narrowed and brows furrowed when he was clearly angry and thought: “Is he Celine’s?”

With that one thought Damien decided he was done with this charade and wanted to go home. He wanted to go home and lock himself in his basement, and get so completely lost in whiskey He couldn’t remember who he was anymore.

Damien could still feel the phantom hand of his father on his shoulder. The man had only been dead a couple of years — at least to Damien, now it was a couple decades at least — but his threats and orders still weighed on his soul.

It seems he’d been mentally gone so long that he’d missed another of Celine’s children, and probably countless more.

Damien shakily got up from his chair and started to turn away, clutching his cigarette like a lifeline. The ice pack left on the chair.

I don’t want you to even look at that child, his father had ordered. It’s bad enough you’ll be related, but I can’t have another null in the family. You—

“아빠”[4] The young man was coming to stand in front of Damien.

The mayor instinctively flinched away, looking back and expecting Marc to come over and pull his son away.

“I’m not,” Damien started, more confused. “I can’t—”

“아빠[4] are you okay?” The young man asked, clearly worried.

“I,” Damien faltered, his mind trying to push down the hope. “Marc!”

Illinois startled and tracked Dark’s eyes to Silver, glaring at him in absolute rage, “Ex-fucking-cuse you?”

Mark held up his hands, “I’ve told him ten times now, I’m not whichever Mark he’s thinking of.”

“We’ll deal with this later,” Illinois decided, then turned to Dark. “Alright, what happened?”

As Illinois had been talking, Damien was having a minor meltdown. Illinois saw the look on his face and his expression and tone softened considerably.

“It’s me,” the young man tried to urge. “Illinois?”

When he saw a continued look of confusion, Illinois realized that Dark wasn’t hurt, he was having an episode. “Oh no, we need to get you home.”

“Yer not goin’ anywhere,”[5] Marvin ordered.

“Fuck off, Copperfield,” Illinois pulled out a piece of chalk and drew open a portal. Dark flinched away from it.

“Come on, dad,” Illinois held out his hand, halfway through the portal.

Almost as if the Manor was sensing a problem it extended out and pulled Illinois, Damien, and the heroes into the Manor and the portal winked closed.

“Ughhh, you’re gonna be pissed when you come to again,” Illinois realized as he saw the other heroes, pulling Eric closer to him.

“Great,” Damien looked around, recognizing the Barnum estate. “You should have just left me there, it was closer to my place than here.”

“No, we live here,” Illinois clarified.

“Yes you live here but I don’t,” Damien snapped back up as he started for the door.

Just as he hit the foyer, Damien stopped at the large portrait hanging on the wall. It had previously sat in the Manor’s living room office, hidden and tucked away in the most private corner for Dark to look at. Since the portrait had been updated the demon had been convinced to bring it out into the main entrance hall.

The sight of it froze Damien dead in his tracks because neither Marc nor Celine were in the picture. Illinois was there but so were four other young men, one young lady, and two individuals that Damien thought looked familiar but couldn’t recognize.

Along the black frame frame in golden colored letters read the name: “BARNUM-DOOM” which completely halted Damien enough for Illinois to catch up.

“I think you need to lie down for a bit,” Illinois tried to offer.

“Where— Who—” Damien tried to place why the one with the curly mustache looked so familiar. Then Damien really looked at the man’s wide toothy smile and everything clicked.

It was Wil’s smile.

Damien’s hands trembled as he reached out to touch the picture, treating it so delicately as if the image would change to a different man.

“아빠?”[4] Illinois walked over, seeing the tears starting to fall from Damien’s face.

“Is,” Damien’s throat felt like it was clogged. “Is this your father?”

“You’re our father too,” Illinois reminded him.

There was a sharp intake of breath from Damien, he looked like he’d been completely frozen in place.

“We’re adopted,” Illinois told him, then corrected, “well most of us, Bim is yours by blood.”

“I can’t have children,” Damien’s response was quiet, almost a whisper.

“You guys did it with magic,” Illinois lied, mostly because explaining to Damien how cloning worked when Illinois barely understood it himself and the mayor would just be here for an hour at most seemed like a bad idea.

“Oh,” Damien replied, looking back at the picture. “That’s me with him?”

“Yes,” Illinois answered.

Damien fought the feeling that his throat was unbearably tight and he gave the only response he could: taking a step towards Illinois and wrapping his arms around him.

Illinois flinched a bit in surprise because normally Dark was not a hug-person, he avoided touch. The young man’s only thought was that Damien felt ice cold. But he ignored that thought, his father needed him.

“He did come back.” Damien was shaking as he held onto Illinois. “He came back and gave you to me.”

Illinois gave a sad smile as he hugged him back. “I’m here.”

Eventually, Damien pulled away, looking back at the portrait with a huge, excited smile, “Six? That’s amazing.”

Illinois looked back at the family portrait, and smiled. They’d had to force King and Yancy back into suits to take it. Illinois pointed to each of them. “That’s Host, there’s me, Kaylor or “Kay” for short, Yancy, Yan, and Bim.”

Damien’s hands traced over the bandages on Host’s face. “What happened?”

“He had a bit of an accident,” Illinois explained carefully. “He’s blind but his magic helps him navigate around.”

“The poor thing,” Damien looked around, “is he here?”

“No, he lives with his boyfriend but he’ll probably turn up,” Illinois told him. “He has a way of doing that.”

“Bim, Yan, and I are the only ones who still live here,” Illinois explained. “The others have moved out.”

At that Damien looked emotionally crushed, “Oh, I guess you are adults.”

Illinois looked back into the other room where the heroes were all awkwardly watching, Illinois and Damien blocking them from leaving through the front door. The young man needed to completely defuse the situation. “Damien” needed to go to bed and he needed to kick everyone but Eric out.

So Illinois took a deep, quiet breath and decided to tackle it one problem at a time. Step one: isolate Eric from the other heroes.

“Before we lose the plot,” Illinois began to gently steer Damien towards Eric who looked nervous. “Sweetheart, he already knows your face, you can lose the mask.”

“Oh,” Eric realized and quickly pulled it off and put his glasses back on. “Hi, Mr. Dark.”

“Uhhh,” Damien looked a bit uncomfortable.

“아빠[4] this is Eric, he’s my fiancé,” Illinois reintroduced. “We’re getting married in September.”

“Aren’t you a little sweetheart,” Damien smiled at Eric.

Eric smiled back nervously, his smile getting bigger as Illinois came over to wrap his arm around him.

“He’s amazing,” Illinois smiled lovingly at Eric who blushed and ducked his head at the compliment.

Illinois began herding Eric and Dark to the nearest couch, talking about wedding plans and Damien seemed to get more excited.

He turned to the four heroes, and opened his mouth to start the process of ushering the unwanted intruders out of his home.

But another voice cut through the air.

“Are we having a party?” Wilford’s slurred drawl cut through the air like a bullet. “Been ages since we’ve had company.”

The adventurer looked to see his other father walking in from the kitchen and Illinois only had one thought in his mind: “Fuck!”

Wil chuckled as he walked over to throw his arm around Illinois, “Sorry my boy, did I interrupt a good ol’ fashioned joke?”

Illinois heard his phone go off and looked to see that almost all of his siblings had tried to contact him. “Dammit!”

Damien stared up at Wil from his seat on the couch and unseen a metaphorical fuse was lit. But for now Damien was so happy. “Wil?”

“Mhmm?” Wil looked over at Damien. “Yes my sweet licorice?”

Illinois answered his phone, it was too late to quietly whisk Damien safely away so he had to run damage control, “Yeah, King, just saw your texts.”

Damien let out a choked sound and came from around the couch to run at Wil and wrap his arms around him.

Wil returned the hug and chuckled, “My, someone’s cuddly today.”

“I thought you’d forgotten about me,” Damien clung onto his partner.

“Never for long,” Wilford chuckled as he picked Damien up, his arms bracing the other man like a seat. “I am here now my Darkling, don’t you worry about a thing.”

Mark was a bit surprised by the look of complete adoration on Damien’s face.

“Yeah, you are, aren’t you?” Damien smiled, resting his forehead against Wil’s. “You are.”

“Is anyone dead?” Bim walked out of the kitchen. Then he froze at the three heroes, “The flying fuck are you doing in my house.”

“We’re having a party,” Wil announced.

“The fuck we are,” Bim spat and looked at Damien, who was still in Wil’s arms, “are you serious?”

“I—” Damien started.

“You know what, have fun, I’m heading somewhere else,” Bim decided, not even letting Damien finish. He used his hand to cut through the air with his aura and made a portal large enough for him to walk through. It snapped closed after him.

Damien looked like he’d been stabbed as he glanced at the spot Bim had just been in. He glanced at Wil, “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no,” Wil was very quick to reassure. “He’s just in a mood is all.”

“Bim’s a brat,” Illinois announced loudly, briefly pulled away from his conversation with King

“Fuck you Ills!” Bim’s voice came from upstairs.

Illinois laughed, “Talk to you later Kay.” Then he hung up and pocketed his phone.

“Dad, why don’t you go get some drinks?” Illinois offered to Wil.

“Oh, of course, how rude of me,” Wil chuckled, setting Damien down who tried to follow Wil.

“Do you need any help?” Damien asked.

Wil gave Damien a quick peck on the cheek, “I know my way around a liquor cabinet, just go enjoy yourself, my dear.”

“If you insist,” Damien smiled and went back to the couch.

He looked back at the living room and had an odd flash of recognition, the faces of the people in the room briefly flashing to different guests he couldn’t quite remember.

As if something was dreadfully familiar.

“You okay?” Patton asked, immediately picking up on the tense air around Damien.

“I just,” Damien began but was distracted by some pictures on the mantle. Pictures of what looked like a happy and lovely family. One he couldn’t remember because a demon had been walking around in his body.

Giving him everything he had ever wanted and more.

“A demon is supposed to ruin your life, not make it infinitely better,” Damien said.

“Well that’s great fer yah,”[6] Jackie chimed in. “But he’s made our lives a livin’ hell.”[7]

“Don’t,” Illinois placed himself protectively in front of Damien.

“Don’t what?” Mark felt indignant fury come over him. “Don’t tell him that he let a demon crawl around in his skin and strangle the life out of my town.”

“Now I—” Damien tried to defend himself as Mark lightly pushed Marvin out of the way.

“Or how about the fact that Dark let Logic almost get tortured and killed by the guy who just walked through here,” Mark argued, turning to Patton. “Or did you forget.”

“I didn’t forget, I just—” Patton spoke up but Silver was so angry.

“Wil’s a mass murdering nut job,” Mark reminded.

“Wil is many things,” Damien argued back, “he might be an eccentric but he’s not a murdered.”

“He is and Dark has been letting him fly off the handle and kill people whenever he wants!” Silver shouted. He pointed to Illinois, “You’re a thief. Bim’s a cannibalistic psychopath.”

“You’re lying!” Damien tried to push around Illinois to punch Mark in the face, but Illinois held him back. Rage and anger boiling from a part of Damien’s soul he couldn’t control. “Wil would never! You should know better, he’s your own brother! You’re just jealous that Celine left you for him!”

The instant those words left Damien’s mouth the fuse hit the end of its line and the memories came flooding back. The awful memories that left Damien dead and hollow.

In the wake of the mayor’s words the room went deadly silent. As if a bomb had gone off in the room.

“You,” Damien choked out as a dull ringing echo slowly seeped back into the room and the colors slowly started to fade. Recognition flared in his eyes, and slowly the black bruises on his neck came back and were getting darker and more necrotic-looking. “You stole everything from me.”

The look in Damien’s eyes was one of such hatred that Mark could physically feel it.

Illinois felt an aura push him out of the way. Damien let out an enraged scream and lunged at Mark.

Mark threw his hands up to protect his face, and began floating so he could get away but the hit never came. When he looked back Damien seemed trapped by some force as he screamed and tried to struggle. All too soon his screams began to get weaker and his skin began to turn grey.

Damien stiffened and Dark looked up.

“Get out of my house,” Dark growled and four was a gust of wind before Patton, Mark, Jackie, and Marvin were all tossed outside the front door.

Illinois and Eric were left in the living room as the house went back to normal.

“You can stay,” Dark told Eric who looked nervous. “You have a new suit I see, it certainly seems better than the old cloth one you had.”

“Uh, thanks,” Eric stammered nervously.

Wilford walked out with a tray of drinks, all of them swirling with his aura. The Host quietly, as his narrations would allow, followed behind him. He looked around the room. “Huh, didn’t we have company?”

Dark walked over and kissed him on the cheek, “That was last week, Wil.”

“Oh, silly me,” Wil chuckled and a portal opened for him to practically throw the tray into and dusted off his hands. “You know time, she plays hard to get.”

Illinois stomped over to stand next to the Host, glaring at his older brother, “Why didn’t you help?”

“Illinois will see that events are better this way,” the Host explained. “Besides, the Host helped stall Warfstache in the kitchen while Dark’s blue soul was losing himself.”

“You’re a real asshole sometimes, you know that right?” Illinois glared at him.

“The Host has been told,” the Host smiled and took a seat on the couch.

As the two young men spoke, Dark took the opportunity to portal to the front steps of the Manor and saw the four heroes still there.

“I thought I told the three of you to leave?” Dark reminded.

“I was so close!” Marvin shouted.

“How’s Damien?” Patton asked, everyone just letting Marvin rant off to the side.

“Screaming in eternal torment, as he usually does,” Dark told him, watching Patton flinch in sympathetic pain.

Dark’s expression softened, “As I hate being on anyone’s debt, expect me to pay back the favor shortly.”

“But I didn’t really do anything,” Patton reminded.

“Damien’s dead isn’t he?” Silver asked, that got Marvin’s attention immediately.

“Ahh, the matter of you,” Dark smiled. “By the reaction you had to Damien calling you “Mark” I can conclude that is also your name? You’re lucky that I’m not as blinded by rage that I can’t tell that you have a different face.”

“You saw that?” Silver asked.

“Of course I was watching, I was trying to get Damien back on his leash,” Dark snapped. “Do you know how long it takes to get him to do anything? He’ll be throwing one of his fits for the next month!”

Dark groaned and after cracking his neck twice, her form changed to look like her red soul. Marvin stared at her in realization. “There, at least he fell back asleep. He was resting peacefully before you four showed up.”

“They’re both dead, aren’t they?” Marvin thought out loud. “That’s why the spells never worked.”

Dark looked at Marvin. “Damien as a person is dead and shattered into pieces. He’s more like a wild animal than a person. He feels things, and occasionally can string errant thoughts, but the nice docile mayor you all desperately have been trying to reach is gone.”

“Is there—” Patton began, still trying to be helpful, and reminding Dark a bit of Damien’s old naivety in the process.

“No,” Dark began massaging her temples. “No, you’re all decades too late to help. Just let him rest. In about a week he would have been fine, but now that you’ve woken him up early that might not be the case. Just go and never bother me about this again.”

With that Dark turned to walk into a portal, the huge gate doors to the property opened. It took a while for the heroes to finally leave. Marvin heading off first and Patton lingering behind, as if he wanted to knock on the door and try to offer to help again.

Eventually the fronts were left cold and vacant, the gate doors swinging back closed and locking behind the heroes.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations

1. “sweetie” in Spanish

2. Shit! Illinois’s coming in hot.

3. your

4. “Dad” in Korean, under informally. Phonetically read as: “appa”

5. You’re not going anywhere

6. Well that’s great for you

7. But he’s made our lives a living hell.

9 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Taste of a Poison Paradise, Chapter 1 (Multi) - Joley

a/n: there were too many ships to fit into the title but the ones in this fic are crygi, lemyanka, sportsdoll, jaidie, and branjie/kamjie

Lemon let out a whiny groan as her alarm went off. Unlike the average alarm, hers was set to 6:30 at night, leaving her just enough time to get up and ready for her shift. She sat up and looked over, then gave Priyanka’s shoulder a light shove. “Rise and shine,” she mumbled as she got out of bed and grabbed the lingerie she’d laid out that morning and covered it with sweats and Priyanka’s flannel shirt.

“Every day I have to wake up and participate in society,” Priyanka lamented as she got out of bed. Her uniform consisted of a simple black t-shirt and jeans, making her routine much shorter than Lemon’s, who had to get all dolled up. “Gonna make coffee,” she decided, shuffling into the kitchen.

While Priyanka was making coffee, Jan came out of the other bedroom. “We carpooling tonight, Pri?” she asked, propping her elbows up on the counter and resting her chin on her hands.

“Yeah, if y’all aren’t planning on hanging out once the shift ends,” she answered, a slight stiffness in her tone. “Can’t stick around.”

Jan knew she needn’t say anything else. “Gotcha,” she nodded before grabbing her sweatshirt off the couch.

The three of them arrived at the club and clocked in on time, much like they always did. Priyanka went to get her station set up while Jan and Lemon joined the other girls in the dressing room to finish their makeup.

“Brooke Lynn told me she’s bringing in a friend of hers tonight,” Vanessa remarked as she swiped highlighter along her cheek. “Met at a convention or some shit in France and this is her welcoming celebration ‘cause she just moved out here.”

“Rich and French?” Jan’s brow quirked with interest and she strummed her fingers together, acting as if she were ‘scheming’. “Damn, I’m glad I just got my hair done.”

“But what if she tips you in euros?” Gigi chuckled.

“Actually,” Jaida chimed in, “the euro is worth like, twenty percent more than the dollar. So, it’d be a better gig if she did.” She tilted her head when the rest of the girls looked at her with either surprised or perplexed expressions. “What? I can know shit too.”

Jackie poked her head into the dressing room, then leaned against the doorframe. “I come in and you guys are talking about economics? I never cease to be amazed at this place. Anyway, just letting all of you know that the new security guard is starting tonight. I expect you all to be nice to her.”

“We’re always nice,” Jan cooed and batted her lashes. “Aren’t we, girls?”

“Speak for yourself, I’ve got an image to maintain,” Lemon retorted.

Just as Jackie was about to turn and leave, she heard footsteps and turned around. “Oh good, Kameron, you’re here. Come say hi to the girls,” she said, excitedly gesturing her over.

A muscled, tattooed blonde made her way over, stopping just a step into the dressing room. She seemed very aware of all the eyes on her, and perhaps a bit shy because of it. “Hey,” she greeted with an awkward wave.

Jackie went down the line introducing the girls. “This is Lemon, Jan, Gigi, Jaida, and Vanessa. Don’t worry, they don’t bite.”

“I make no promises,” Vanessa chimed in, twirling her hair around her finger as she looked Kameron over.

Jaida chuckled and tapped Vanessa’s thigh. “Down, girl. Sit. Stay.” Then she looked back up and warned Kameron, “Vanjie likes blondes.”

“Behave,” Jackie jokingly chastised, though she knew it would fall on deaf ears. “I’m gonna go get Kameron set up out front,” she said before the two of them left.

Once they’d left, Gigi leaned over to talk to Vanessa. “How’s your girlfriend gonna feel about you giving bedroom eyes to the new recruit, huh?”

“Relax, I just looked at her, not like I tried to eat her pussy or somethin’,” she retorted. “And you can’t say shit about girlfriends when your ass can’t even ask Crystal out on a date.” She got a chorus of ‘ooooh’ from the other girls at that and made Gigi turn red.

——

“Gigi, Jaida, and I are gonna hit up that new diner two blocks over after work, you in?” Crystal asked during a slow point in their shift.

Priyanka sighed and looked down at the empty glasses she was clearing off from the bar. “Can’t,” she mumbled, then reluctantly added, “I told Mark I’d pick him up from the airport.”

“I should’ve recognized that pain face,” she mused with a sympathetic nod. “Does your girlfriend know your boyfriend’s back in town?” she asked, cocking her head to the stage Lemon was dancing on.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Priyanka caught the defensiveness in her tone, so she tried to playfully follow it up with “she’s my mistress.”

Crystal chuckled, dividing her attention between her coworker and the customers that came up to the bar. “Whatever you gotta call it. At least he’s out of town like, what, forty weeks out of the year?”

“And yet it never feels like enough.”

The other bartender shook her head. “Remind me again why you’re still with him.”

“He’s… my safety blanket. No one asks me too many questions if they know I’m still with him. I can be normal and not have to worry about my family disowning me,” she explained.

“Oh, right, I forgot how far in the closet you are. Which is easy to do when you consider… every other aspect of your personality.” Crystal looked over and spotted Brooke Lynn approaching with a dark-haired woman at her side. “Who’s your friend, Brooke?”

“This is Nicky, she just moved here from Paris. Had to give her the proper welcome, you know?” Brooke explained. “I ran it by Jackie, gonna have her set up in the VIP room once she picks who she wants to-”

“Her.” Nicky had only turned away for a moment when her eyes locked on one of the dancers. “I have decided. I want that one.”

Brooke looked over, amused at the promptness in her decision. “Jan? Good choice. Crystal, set Nicky up with a cognac while I go let Jackie know to get her set up,” she explained as she got up. “If I don’t come back, assume Vanjie’s got me captive and don’t send for help.”

Priyanka watched as Brooke left. “God, that bitch has her whole life together and then some. Like, actual life goals, you know?”

“Priyanka also aspires to be a rich businesswoman that gets to rail a stripper on the regular,” Crystal explained to Nicky as she handed her the drink.

Nicky lifted her glass to her in approval. “Aim high, love,” she said and took a sip. “So, tell me about this girl I’ve picked, Jan, yes?”

“Oh, Jan’s great,” Crystal told her. “She’s a real sweetheart, you know? Like, the type to accidentally make customers fall in love with her because she just radiates that warm energy. Even had to ruin the illusion by outing herself a couple of times.”

“Yeah, but that was when that guy proposed to her, remember?” Priyanka chimed in. “Nice guy, stupid as all fuck.”

Nicky listened with amusement to the anecdotes the bartenders went on about until she spotted Jan coming her way, instantly tuning out everything around her to focus on the scantily clad woman.

Jan smiled and held her hand out. “Follow me, I’ll take you to the VIP room.”

“Then, by all means, lead the way,” she purred and followed her as they weaved through the club, to a room behind velvet ropes.

The room itself was designed to look even more expensive than it was with its red and gold color scheme and velvety fabrics. There was a plush couch, a table with champagne in an ice bucket, and a basket containing various sexual accessories – fuzzy handcuffs, lube, things of that nature. It was also perfectly spotless, which was easy to maintain with how rarely it was used. For the most part, it was up to the dancers to decide if they even wanted to confirm the existence of VIP rooms, let alone bring anyone into that space.

But Jan seemed thrilled to have Nicky in there with her. Especially since she knew she wouldn’t have to keep up her professional pretenses – Nicky came in with Brooke, after all. “So, I’m sure Brooke probably told you, but we make up whatever rules we want based on the client. But since this is your big American welcome present, I’m cool with following your lead.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Nicky cupped Jan’s face. “I don’t know if you want to give me that much power. There’s just far too much I’d like to do to you.”

Jan felt a chill go up her spine. The intensity of Nicky’s gaze paired with the coolness in her voice had her entranced on the spot. “Even better. Nothing’s sexier than a powerful woman.”

“As if I had any doubt on what a bottom you are,” she lightly teased as she sat down on the couch. She leaned back, admiring the beautiful woman she had all to herself. “Purple is your color,” she observed, admiring the way the violet lingerie fit her body, how it framed her perfectly while still begging to be ripped off.

“Why thank you, it’s my favorite,” Jan hummed, making her way over and straddling Nicky’s lap. She wasn’t used to having any sort of banter on the clock. Normally, a customer’s brain would short circuit as soon as they saw her tits, and that was how she liked it – the best man was a silent man as far as she was concerned.

But even Nicky seemed to have had enough with the talking, having moved on to kissing along Jan’s neck while her hands wandered her body. Eventually, she let them rest on Jan’s ass, which she groped and slapped while the two of them made out.

Jan let out a pleased sigh against Nicky’s lips. She rolled her hips slowly at first, arching towards Nicky’s touch and threading her fingers through her hair. “God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” she murmured as she undid her new client’s top.

“So are you, angel,” Nicky purred as she unhooked Jan’s bra and let it drop to the floor. She could tell she had caught Jan a bit off guard – normally the client would never undress the stripper. But it was clear Jan didn’t take issue, so she continued, kissing down her neck and chest, between her breasts, then teasingly swiping her tongue over both nipples. While she licked and sucked at her breasts, Nicky moved her hands back down, lightly snapping Jan’s panties against her and peeling them off once Jan lifted her hips up to let her.

It was so rare for Jan to be able to give up control at work. Her true submissive preferences were reserved exclusively for her personal life, lest anyone get the wrong idea. But Nicky had her under her thumb without even trying, and honestly, Jan found that even hotter. She wanted Nicky as badly as Nicky wanted her, and she didn’t make any attempt to hide it, going right to undressing Nicky once she was naked herself.

“So eager,” Nicky couldn’t help but call her out. “You must be so desperate to get fucked after teasing ugly men all night, hm?” She moved her hand between Jan’s thighs and traced her fingers along her slit. “You’re wet already, you little whore.” She then tapped her thigh lightly to redirect her. “On your knees,” she instructed, “you know what to do.”

Of course she did, Jan had just been eagerly awaiting her command. She got on her knees in front of Nicky, pulling her trousers and panties down to her ankles before situating herself between her thighs. She licked a stripe up her slit, then eased her tongue in, alternating between slow and fast, deep and shallow licks and thrusts.

Nicky tilted her head back and let out a deep moan. “Fuck, good girl,” she grunted. Her hand moved to the back of Jan’s head, holding her head in place with just a bit of firmness to keep her going.

Not that Jan would’ve stopped even if her life depended on it. Every time Nicky bucked her hips up or pushed down on her head, it turned her on and encouraged her all the more. Her hands gripped onto Nicky’s waist to hold her close and not let up until she was certain she had came, then pulled back with a bright, hopeful expression.

And Nicky knew exactly how to react, she could tell right away that Jan was the type that thrived on praise and positive reinforcement. “You did so well, babygirl,” she cooed and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Get up and sit on my face, Mama’s gonna make you feel good.”

Jan nearly tripped over herself with how quickly she scrambled to her feet. She waited for Nicky to lay down on the couch before straddling her face and gripping the arm of the couch, then let out a breathy moan when she felt Nicky’s tongue inside her. “Fuck…”

Nicky held onto Jan’s ass as she thrust her tongue steadily. She smirked to herself when she heard how desperate and needy the younger woman’s moans were. This was not going to be their last encounter, that she was certain of, and by the time she had made Jan come, she was already thinking about the next time.

“Oh my fucking god,” Jan was still trembling when she got off of Nicky, sitting down to catch her breath. “Is that what French kissing really is?”

“I like to think so,” Nicky chuckled, sitting up and getting dressed. “Either way, that was just the welcome I had hoped for, and I will certainly be coming back for you. I’d take you home if I could.”

“Who’s to say you can’t?” Jan batted her lashes and twirled her hair around her finger.

——

“You know, with the way Nicky pounced on Jan, you might not be getting her back tonight,” Brooke warned. She was sitting in Jackie’s office with Vanessa sitting on her lap, though Vanessa had more or less checked out while Brooke and Jackie caught up.

Jackie laughed softly. “If I know Jan, and I tend to think I do, she won’t mind in the slightest,” she assured. “Though sometimes I worry you’re gonna keep bringing your friends in and pairing off all my girls.”

“What can I say? I’ve found my niche,” she hummed. “And it’s all good as long as you keep up those profit margins, right?”

“Oh god, are y’all just gonna talk business and shit all night?” Vanessa whined.

Brooke arched her brow at her girlfriend. “We’re not making you stay here, babe. You can go do a set or hang out in the dressing room,” she suggested. “You know, considering this is still your job,” she added.

“You can just get Kameron to babysit her,” Jackie remarked offhandedly, oblivious to the way Vanessa had suddenly tensed and sat upright or the way she was glaring a hole into her head.

And Brooke hadn’t picked up on it either, just coming off as confused. “Who’s Kameron? Another dancer?”

Vanessa had started to answer. “No, she ain’t nobody, she just-”

“She’s the new security guard,” Jackie explained. “I like her, she seems nice, really funny once she warms up to you, a little quiet otherwise.”

“Is she…you know…”

“Gay? Yeah, she a fitness dyke, I can tell,” Vanessa chimed in.

Jackie cleared her throat awkwardly. “I mean, I didn’t want to assume.”

Brooke arched her brow. “You, the woman who has managed to employ five lesbian strippers and two lesbian bartenders, didn’t want to assume? Like, you want us to believe that was purely coincidental and not your full intention?” While she had meant it lightheartedly, she noticed Jackie start to curl into herself. “Jackie… do you think we don’t know?”

Jackie swallowed thickly. “Vanjie, do you think you could give me a minute with Brooke?” she asked softly, then waited for Vanessa to leave before she redirected her attention to completely focus on Brooke. “I-I don’t know what you mean. What are you talking about?”

Brooke’s expression became more concerned. Her brows furrowed as she leaned closer and spoke in a hushed tone. “Do you… wait… are you not out?”

“Out of what?” she bristled, sitting upright and pointedly averting her gaze. “There’s nothing for me to be ‘out’ of. Because I’m not. I’m not.”

“Jackie…” she reached out and took her hand. She knew what a delicate subject this could be, but she also knew she would be remiss if she ignored it. “If there was ever a safe space…”

Jackie shook her head, suddenly getting up and pacing back and forth across the room. “You don’t understand. Firstly, my family, they… they just wouldn’t get it. They still think I own a restaurant.” She sighed heavily, finally stopping and leaning against her desk. “Besides, acknowledging my attraction to girls in a place like this… it’s just asking for trouble, you know? Priyanka is the only person that knows, and that’s just because she’s in the same boat.”

Brooke nodded as she listened. “But even still, Pri’s out to everyone here. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

“Pri’s out to everyone here so she can fuck Lemon in peace,” she retorted with a dry laugh. “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t thought about… like I wouldn’t…”

“You’re afraid of catching feelings for one of the girls.”

“No,” Jackie squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, everything she had spent so long burying was pushing through all at once. It made her feel dizzy and nauseous and faced with the realization that telling the truth was the only thing that could relieve that sense of unease. “I’m afraid I already have.”

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pandoraborn · 4 years

Note

“Don’t you trust me?” Evil! Jackie with Chase maybe? -🍂

Swallowing thickly, Chase leans forward, pinching his hat between his index finger and thumb. He’s staring down at the mess of colors, trying to ignore how blurry his vision is, or the voice of his once best friend from across the room.

Jackie’s speaking, voice a low thrum that he’s trying to tune out, but it’s incessant, somehow quiet enough to blend in with background noise, loud enough to interrupt his thoughts.

Chase wants to clamp his hands over his ears to block it out.

Jackie’s been talking to him about his magic for the past several minutes, explaining what he can do. It’s not a topic Chase is comfortable with, the man himself is enough to make Chase uncomfortable these days. Why him? Why was he selected out of the rest of them? Chase wants to interrupt and tell Jackie to fuck off, to find another sucker to mess with, but there’s also that low, vague thought that Chase can’t push aside.

He misses Jackie.

Rather, he misses who Jackie used to be. Chase can recall in vivid detail Jackie’s award-winning smile, his bright laughter that seemed to cure his negative moods, or even the sleepy aura Jackie seemed to have around him while he relaxed. All those components are gone, and before Chase stands a completely different person. Somehow the bags under his eyes are more prominent, his hair is wilder, darker, and his smile lost its spark. The way Jackie smiles now makes Chase shudder and want to find a cabinet to hide in.

“Shut up,” Chase finally murmurs. He glances up, pinching his hat tighter. “Shut up, I don’t care. I don’t care.”

“You don’t care? You’ve been so quiet for the past ten minutes, I assumed you were quietly listening. You used to listen to every word I said.” Jackie tilts his head to the side, no trace of hurt in his eyes. He looks more amused, if anything.

“That was before you let magic corrupt you. You still haven’t told us where you got it from.”

“That’s because no one needs to know. Maybe I got it from a spell book, who knows?” He kicks away from the door frame he’s leaning against, moving closer to Chase. Chase recoils with jerky movements, still refusing to make eye contact with Jackie.

“Jackie, don’t.”

Jackie pauses, lips widening with a grin. It’s not a pleasant smile; it speaks of malicious thoughts, or even actions to come. It scares Chase to his core. Whoever this this, it’s not his friend. “Don’t you trust me?” Jackie asks, voice low, almost soothing. A hand is reached out, a finger touching the hat. Chase drops the hat as if he’s been shocked.

“No,” he lies. “I don’t trust you. I don’t want anything to do with you, get out of my house.”

“My house. So, you really have banded together to kick me out. But also, ‘my house’, as if you’re the only one living here. What’s the matter, don’t want to drag anyone else into this conversation?”

A fist is drawn back as Chase glares up, making eye contact with his former friend. “Get out, before I punch you. Remember, I’m almost as strong as you are, I can take you in a fight.”

“I also know you won’t. I see right through you, you’re going to come crawling back to me sooner or later, brother.” Jackie takes several steps back, still wearing that sinister grin. “You’re predictable.”

“You’re not my brother. My brother died the second he decided to rely on magic instead of his friends. Get out before I call for Marvin.”

That wipes the grin right off Jackie’s face, expression contorting into a nasty expression Chase doesn’t even recognize. He can feel the hatred radiating from Jackie though, and it has him recoiling again. “You’re going to see me again, Chase. I will get my way sooner or later, and you’re going to have to make a choice. I’ll see you soon, brother.“

He disappears in a dulled golden flash, leaving Chase alone with nothing but his hat to keep him from drowning in his own grief.

#writersofjack #miishae writes #jackieboy man #chase brody #corrupted!jackie #dark!jbm #angst #sad #long post #nonnie

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dreamonhunters · 4 years

Text

dyin’ ain’t so bad, not if you both go together

tw // major character death, graphic depictions of violence, guns, blood, references to drugs

yet another birthday present!! happy birthday to @aw-jus-let-em-try ! rizz i love you so damn much and i’m so grateful to call you my friend!! ♡ i do hope you enjoy immortal javid as much as i think you will 🥺

read it here on ao3!

Jack Kelly died when he was twelve years old.

And again, when he was thirteen.

There’s a tombstone that says he died when he was fourteen, again at sixteen, eighteen, nineteen, and the one on his twenty-first birthday that he doesn’t talk about because alcohol poisoning isn’t a very cool way to go.

Different names, of course. He’s many things, but stupid isn’t one of them.

There’s more. Jack remembers each and every last one of them, vivid technicolour in his mind. Some of them are lost to time now, forgotten and unrecorded. Never been one to keep his legal documents in order.

He’s twenty-two now, and the tally on his chest — emblazoned on the soft flesh over his heart, dark against tan skin — says he’s died twenty-seven times.

He’s lived more lives than years.

Fingertips graze over those dark lines. A blessing and a curse. Jack Kelly is unbreakable, because his life isn’t so fragile. You fear nothing and nobody when you can’t be destroyed, when the light behind your eyes can never be extinguished.

He hears shifting beside him, and his eyes flicker over to the bed. Expensive sheets cover a man’s sleeping form, curled on his side, one arm resting beneath his head. Softly illuminated by the rising sun, filtering through the cracks in the blinds.

David is beautiful when he sleeps.

Jack lets out a soft sigh, allowing the fabric of his shirt to drop back down. Turns to watch his lover sleep, a small smile tugging the corners of his mouth upwards. He’s a lucky, lucky man, truly. People like David Jacobs don’t fall for Jack Kelly. But neither of them should exist, because they both died a long time ago, and so Jack doesn’t look at the improbability of it anymore.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” he murmurs. Davey mumbles something unintelligible, rolling over onto his back. “C’mon, we got work to do.”

“What time is it?” Davey asks, voice still thick with sleep. Blinks blearily up at the ceiling, letting his eyes adjust to the change in light.

“Half seven,” Jack answers, without glancing at the clock on the wall. Doesn’t need to, because he wouldn’t get up any earlier than that without six alarms and a strong cup of coffee. “Think Finch an’ Albert are up. Heard ‘em bickering.”

“Unsurprising.”

He laughs, turning to lean against the wall. Davey rolls back onto his side, and that little smile lights up Jack’s world. Reminds him why he fell in love with this man all over again.

“You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous,” Jack murmurs.

He laughs, shaking his head. “No need to flatter me, Jackie. I’m getting up.”

“Not flatterin’. Admiring.”

Davey pushes himself upright, stretching his arms. Arches his back until Jack hears that satisfying crack, the type you get from a good stretch. “You’re sweet.”

“Don’t you know it, sugar,” he murmurs, moving across the room to press a soft kiss to Davey’s lips. “C’mon. Up an’ at ‘em. We got a deal to close.”

Davey’s laughter fills Jack’s ears as he waltzes out of the room, rolling his shoulders back. Shoots a tired-looking Racetrack his trademark grin as he passes. Albert and Finch are still bickering in the kitchen, although they both look a little more animated now. Romeo’s head rests on the table, a glass of orange juice long forgotten beside him.

“Mornin’, lads,” Jack greets. Uncharacteristically cheerful for this time of morning, but he chooses to ignore that minor detail.

“Mornin’, boss,” Albert drawls, mimicking Jack’s tone in the most obnoxious manner possible. “Didn’t think you were gonna make it.”

“I ain’t that lazy, Al,” Jack deflects. “Gimme a break.”

“You want coffee?” Finch offers, placing his own mug back on the counter.

“You already know I do.”

“I don’t think Jack can function without his coffee,” Davey’s voice chimes in, and Jack turns to see his lover standing in the doorway. Leaning against the frame, small smirk tugging at his lips. Cocky. A quiet challenge, just between the two of them. The top of his shirt hangs open, unbuttoned. Unusual for Davey, but more than appreciated.

“Good mornin’ to you too, David,” he drawls playfully, turning back to smile at his boys. “What’s got you lot up so early?”

Finch groans, sliding a cup of coffee across to Jack. “Ask me after.”

“Someone’s cheerful,” Albert comments, earning himself a sharp jab to the ribs.

“Racer had another stupid idea,” Louis mumbles, somehow managing to avoid eye contact with anyone as he enters the room. As he always does. “And you know he isn’t gonna just give up on it.”

Jack simply laughs, sits himself down beside Romeo. “Rise an’ shine, Juliet,” he teases, nudging the boy’s shoulder. He stirs, grumbling something under his breath. Still doesn’t lift his head.

“We’ll be out most of the day,” Davey adds coolly, retrieving the milk. “Got a deal to close.”

“Anything important?” Finch asks, head inclined slightly towards Davey as he rejoins Albert at the table.

Jack shakes his head, jaw cracking as he yawns. “Nah. These guys ain’t regulars. That’s why I want more money off ‘em.”

“And you think tha’s gonna work?” Albert questions.

“You know me,” Jack smirks. “I don’t take no for an answer.”

“And we don’t have long,” Davey reminds.

“That we don’t,” he agrees, draining his cup. “Laters, boys. Don’t burn the house down.”

“So keep Race away from the toaster? Got it,” Albert teases, earning himself a dark glare from the blond.

He follows Davey out of the kitchen, and maybe he’s lagging behind just a little to admire his lover. Not that he’d admit to that.

Davey and Jack have always made a good pair. Maybe has a little something to do with the fact they slept together on their second meeting, but Jack likes to gloss over that fact. It’s not the most romantic story, but it suits them, he thinks. Jack was never one to beat around the bush.

“You sure we shouldn’t bring Racer along?” Davey asks, voice betraying just the slightest hint of anxiety. They’re in the garage now, with Jack making a beeline towards his preferred vehicle. “He’s the talker.”

“Nah. I got this, Dave, don’t worry ‘bout it. You know I got a way with words, an’ you’re not exactly quiet.”

He doesn’t have an answer for that. Doesn’t really require an answer, really, because Jack’s right, and they both know it. They’re equally as competent, and sometimes it’s nice to have something for just the two of them.

They don’t talk while they drive. Jack doesn’t have anything to say, and Davey doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s at the wheel. A quiet hour to prepare themselves, mentally and physically.

Jack fiddles with his glock. Flicks the safety on and off, that soft clicking a small distraction for his mind. Davey would complain if he weren’t so focused. Occasionally, he’ll hum quietly to himself, break the silence for a few fleeting moments, and it’s nice. Pleasant. Comfortable.

Davey pulls up a few blocks away, rests his arms on the steering wheel. Jack knows that expression. Steeling himself.

“You ready?” Jack asks softly, leaning over to press a light kiss to Davey’s cheekbone.

“Mm,” he answers, not meeting Jack’s eyes. He needs these moments. It’s a little harder for Davey to create that mental separation.

They stay there for a short while longer, listening to the other’s breathing. Jack waits for Davey to unbuckle his seatbelt and pop his door open, taking another deep breath as he steps out. And he follows his lover’s lead, tucking the glock into his waistband. Insurance, more than anything.

Davey’s by his side in an instant, the back of his hand brushing against Jack’s. He resists the urge to intertwine their fingers, just for those few fleeting moments, because he doesn’t quite need that physical reassurance anymore.

You can’t hurt Jack Kelly, and you can’t hurt David Jacobs, because every time they come right back. Death has no permanence. Blink, and they’re awake, side by side, gasping for that first breath all over again. A blessing and a curse.

Jack’s fingertips trace the tally on the inside of his lover’s wrist, a feather light touch. Davey isn’t so laidback, however. He explains his fears quietly, when it's just the two of them in a darkened room, bodies pressed against each other. Every death marks one closer to the end for him. A fear that one day this little performance will come to a horrifying close, and suddenly the fragility of life will become all too real. There has to be a limit to their immortality, he insists, even if Jack disagrees. Just how far can they push it?

His head turns, steely blue eyes meeting deep brown. “Be safe, Jackie,” Davey murmurs, eyes filled with a concern most people wouldn’t quite understand. When you don’t quite fear death, your biggest fear is loneliness, Jack realises.

“Don’t gotta tell me twice.”

A modern office building towers above them, morning sunlight reflecting off the large glass front.

“Little bit more than I expected,” Davey murmurs, and Jack shrugs. Punches a code into a small keypad, buttons glowing blue beneath his fingertips. Not a single smudge on those glass double doors.

“Hey, they’re payin’ us good money. I just want a little more, y’know?”

“As always,” Davey sighs, with that faux irritance that Jack knows and loves.

A voice crackles over the little intercom, a female voice. “Who’s here?”

“Jack Kelly and David Jacobs, here to see Mr. Pulitzer?” Jack asks, that usual drawl disappearing from his voice. He means business.

There’s a soft click. The doors slide open, and the pair step into a modern lounge area. “Floor twenty-seven,” Jack murmurs, shoes clicking against the polished marble floor. Nobody else around, no other sounds.

Davey doesn’t speak, follows Jack into the elevator silently, leans against the cool metal railing as they ascend. His brow pinches together with a silent anxiety. Gets like this every time. The doors slide open.

“Kelly. Jacobs. Good to see you again,” a smooth voice greets. Pulitzer is a tall man, greasy hair that’s greying at the roots and bright blue eyes that crease up a little when he smiles.

“You too,” Jack smiles, lips pulled into a tight grin. False, a little too strained around the edges, but only Davey would pick up on that. “This ain’t gonna take long.”

“I’m sure it won’t,” Pulitzer mutters, turning on his heel. Leads them towards a door, right down the far end of the hallway. Too polished and perfect. Their footsteps echo as they walk. Holds it open for them. Davey shoots him a small smile as Jack sits down.

“So,” Jack drawls, leaning forward. Long arms cross on the edge of Pulitzer’s desk, one hand coming to rest under his chin. “I got bad news. We’re gonna have to up rates, ‘cause suppliers are screwin’ me over.”

“Is that so?” he asks, leaning back in his seat. Davey’s fingers hover over his own gun, just a little anxiety settling in his gut. “Who supplies you, may I ask?”

“Smaller cartel across town. The Delanceys.”

“Interesting.”

Pulitzer drums his fingertips on the desk rhythmically. A dim sound, and somehow it echoes in Jack’s brain. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, hyperaware of the way his clothes feel against his skin, the weight of the gun on his hip, the gentle sound of Davey’s breathing somewhere close behind.

“How so?”

There’s tension in Jack’s shoulders. Something in Pulitzer’s expression just doesn’t sit quite right with him.

“I just so happen to know a certain Morris Delancey. And I just so happen to know he hasn’t changed his prices in four years.”

Shit.

There’s a predatory grin on Pulitzer’s face, toothy and shark-like. Jack doesn’t like it one bit. Can’t think of a way to talk himself out of this one, and Davey isn’t forthcoming. He’s a deer trapped in the headlights, waiting for Pulitzer to finish him off.

His brain doesn’t quite register the gun, or the shot that fires off, or the smell of smoke that fills the room. Dimly, he registers the sound of a body hitting the ground, and he already knows it’s Davey. Doesn’t have time to react, because his vision is hazy as a second bullet pierces his own skull.

There’s a sudden moment of peace. The darkness envelopes him, like an old friend, a comforting embrace. Fleeting.

And then there’s agonising pain, splitting his skull straight down the middle. Because recovering from death isn’t a painless process, of course not. There has to be some kind of drawback to immortality. Every single time, your body has to rebuild what is broken from the inside out, bring itself back from the end, and that’s no easy feat.

Maybe that’s why Davey’s so afraid it’ll all be over one day. That there’s a limit, and one day his body will give out, unable to muster the strength to rebuild itself once again.

Jack isn’t so sure.

When his eyes reopen, he feels concrete beneath his fingertips. Gunpowder on his tongue, blood stuck between his teeth. Coppery. Licks his lips, sore and cracked. Darkened sky, the few stars you can see despite the city lights glinting overhead. Distantly, he can hear cars, somewhere far below. A rooftop.

How fitting.

He’s alive, all over again, and he lays there for a few quiet moments. Feels the way his chest rises and falls with each breath, how he can move each finger independently. The ground is scratchy against his skin.

Davey’s there, and he sits up a little too fast. Chest heaving, eyes wild. Some things never change.

“Hey, calm down,” Jack murmurs, slowly easing himself up. “You’re fine. We’re fine. It’s good.”

“This time,” Davey whispers, voice cracking just a little on the second syllable. “This time, Jackie.”

“An’ that’s what matters, ain’t it? This time? I don’t give a damn about next time, ‘cause it ain’t happened yet.”

Davey shakes his head, still trembling. “I don’t know how we live like this.”

“‘Cause if there is a limit, we ain’t gonna find it by standin’ still,” he answers. “C’mon. You’re gettin’ yourself all worked up over nothin’. We’re alive, Dave. Who gives a shit about this ‘limit’?”

“I do.”

Jack sighs, moves his hand to rest on top of Davey’s. Familiar touch. Smooth skin beneath calloused palms, worn rough from years of firefights and underhanded tactics.

“Let it go, Davey. We’re okay.”

“This time.”

“Sure, this time. An’ all the times before.”

Davey’s still shaking. Slowly, carefully, Jack pulls him a little closer. Intertwines their fingers. Matching gold bands gleam in the streetlights.

“You still got me, ain’t ya? And I ain’t goin’ nowhere without you,” Jack reassures. There’s a smile on his face. A different look, softer behind the eyes. Silent promise, just between the two of them. “I love you, David.”

“I love you too,” he replies. Breathy. Eyes still wide with shock, heart still racing. It’ll take a while for him to calm down, back to that trademark neutrality Davey’s better known for.

Jack lays back down. The concrete isn’t comfortable, but he doesn’t really feel like walking back. They could be miles away, for all he knows. Dark eyes fix on the stars, lips twisting upwards. Innate comfort. A ghost of a smile.

“Sleep here tonight, Dave. They ain’t gonna miss us.”

He silently shifts closer, rests his head on Jack’s chest, lets his lover hold him close. There’s no words. Doesn’t need to be, because they understand each other perfectly without the need for words. Davey drifts off first, exhausted from the whole ordeal. And Jack feels him breathe, feels his heartbeat, feels the warmth of his skin. Calm.

He’s alive, and real, and in a strange way it feels like he’s never been alive at all.

Jack has died twenty-eight times. Davey’s on fourteen.

One more strike over his heart.

#rayray writes #my writing #newsies #fake newsies au #javid #jack kelly #jack newsies #david jacobs #davey jacobs #davey newsies

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gottlem · 4 years

Text

summer fl(in)g. part 2 (gigi x crystal)

summary: after lockdown, Gigi and Crystal find it hard to keep their chemistry in person. Will they ever figure out how to get it back? (3.6k)

The first time Gigi and Crystal see each other in person after lockdown is with Jan and Jackie. Jan had insisted in their little group chat that they all meet up as soon as possible, and it just so happened that everyone was already free - having been unable to make any plans due to complete uncertainty of the future. But that’s in the past now. It was finally time to go and see friends, hug them, appreciate the things they had taken so easily for granted. Like how full the park was - before the lockdown, the four would have bitched about the excitable children and ignorant adults. But today was different. Today, sat in the same park they had been in many times before, felt like a turning point in everyone’s lives. They laid out a checkered blanket onto the grass (Gigi couldn’t risk the stains and Jackie didn’t like how the grass made her legs itch) and started their small, last minute picnic.

The cool summer air enveloped them in a welcome hug - it was starting to become a little cooler, with the hottest part of summer being in the middle of lockdown. Of course they were disappointed in missing the heat, but they knew how necessary the lockdown had been (a/n STAY INSIDE) and couldn’t complain when they were finally outside and feeling the refreshing breeze on their exposed skin - it was (thankfully) still just warm enough for shorts and t shirts, giving the girls a quick taste of summer before the clothes would have to be swapped out for jeans and sweaters.

Crystal loved how vibrant everything looked. She adored the way the grass was just so green, and the sky so blue. And Gigi was so Gigi. They sat next to each other, their bare legs ever so slightly brushing up every now and again, sending shivers down Crystal’s spine. She only hoped that Gigi was experiencing the same electricity. Crystal felt stuck, she was so scared of getting too close to the girl and scaring her away. She cared about what they had too much to risk it for the chance of something more.

Everytime Crystal smiled, or laughed, Gigi would find herself absolutely captivated by the sound. It was intoxicating to her. What she loved more, was the fact that every time her ears picked the sound up, Gigi would find that she was the first (and only) thing Crystal would look at. It made her feel special. Like maybe what they had started during the lockdown wouldn't be wasted. Though, she could never describe it that way, even if nothing else came out of it all, the time couldn’t have been wasted when she found so much joy within the memories.

“Gigi. G. Gig. Genevieve. Babe” That last word was what took Gigi out of her thoughts. She was suddenly very aware of how close Crystal’s face was to hers. Turns out, she had completely zoned out and now all she could think about was how good Crystal smelled. She wondered why she hadn’t noticed before, but the realisation came crashing down onto her soon enough - she had never actually been this physically close to Crystal before. Though, it was difficult to believe, with how much they had bonded. All Gigi wanted was to stay like this forever. Stay close to Crystal forever.

But alas, Gigi had been taken out of her trance, which was Crystal’s cue to sit back, and return to stealing subtle stares at the girl. Gigi caught every single one, and returned it with double the intensity. That’s all they could do. Look. Admire. Appreciate from a distance, all the while longing for so much more. They could have a whole conversation with their eyes, but neither would admit it. Not to each other, not to themselves. Not yet, anyway.

The day out is filled with laughter until the sun starts to set and the girls start to get chilly. Crystal had brought an extra jacket (because of course she had) and gave it to Gigi, without trying to think about it too hard. Jan and Jackie had both spotted how the interaction had made both girls turn impossibly red, and giggled amongst themselves, instantly catching onto what was happening, and remembering when they were in the same boat a few months prior. They decided to let them figure it out themselves - it would be fun to watch unfold, and meddling would only complicate things. Though, even if they didn’t know the full story, it seemed to be pretty complicated already.

When Crystal returned to her apartment, her face stung a bit from the cold, Gigi having been given the warmer of her two jackets. And the only one with a hood she could have used to at least try to stop her ears from freezing. The warmth from her apartment was comforting as she made herself a hot chocolate and let herself relax after the day she’d had. She was exhausted from being around a group, a group that included Gigi, for so many hours, but she relished in the way it made her feel. She was content.

When Gigi returned to her apartment, she went straight to her bed and almost passed out. But before falling asleep, she let her thoughts wander to the green haired girl she felt so deeply towards. It had become her routine, her guilty little pleasure, to let herself imagine what could be if she just told her how she felt, what she wanted. But she didn’t want to lose what they had. What if she didn’t feel the same and suddenly felt too awkward to keep up the flirty banter? Or worse, what if she felt exactly the same and they started dating, only to lose that spark they had. She shook the thoughts out of her head - thinking like that wont do her any good. But then again, neither will imaginary scenarios filled with light touches and gentle kisses. It didn’t take her much longer to fall asleep fully, with Crystal’s hoodie hanging loose on her small frame and her perfume comforting her senses.

Two weeks passed after the lockdown was lifted, and the small group had met up countless times, trying desperately to make up for lost time. Gigi and Crystal stood next to each other, taking in each other's presence but barely talking. They were so scared to ruin what they have by speaking, they were just ruining it by avoiding each other. Everytime they returned back to their apartments, they would spend their time drowning in thoughts about the other, dreaming up the things they weren’t bold enough to do in real life.

Crystal hated the silence. She had gotten so used to calling, so used to spending her waking hours on the phone with Gigi: chatting, laughing, flirting. She kept waiting to hear her phone to ring, or to get a text. She just wanted something. Something to show that what they had was still there. And as if Gigi could read her mind, despite being blocks away, she got a text.

goodemorning: hey. i’m gonna call u, if that’s ok?

Crystal could feel Gigi’s hesitation from the way she had typed out the message. Gigi was just as scared as she was.

CRYstal: ...when has it ever not been ok? ofc u can call b

The call was slow. And awkward. Their dialogue was stilted and it felt like they were walking on eggshells around each other, their new dynamic being achingly polarizing. They tried to idly chat about nothing, just like they would have three weeks ago, but to no avail. They both knew they were holding themselves, and each other, back.

“Ok, no, I can’t deal with this anymore,” Gigi took a breath before continuing. Crystal froze up. “Listen I’m just gonna say this; what are we? I mean, we talked so much on lockdown, like, so fucking much and then all the flirting started, I mean, you call me babe for fucks sake, so, what does it all mean? Because this isn’t how friends act, Crys, you know that, right? This isn’t how ‘just friends’ act around each other, you had to have known that. You had to! Cause God knows I do, far too well.”

Gigi hadn’t expected to sound so angry. She wasn’t angry. Or maybe she was? She couldn’t really tell anymore. All she knew now was she felt horrid watching the tears prick behind Crystal’s eyes at her words, and instantly wanted to go back in time.

“Hey, no, don’t be upset. Look at me, I’m not mad, ok? I’m not mad. I’m just confused. I just want to know what’s going on because it’s just too much right now, so please just, talk to me?”

Crystal took a breath. She had been waiting for this moment. Waiting for one of them to finally acknowledge that there was something more going on here. There was no going back now - so that's why Crystal asked:

“Why don’t we try a date? We could go grab some coffee or something. If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work and we can go back to being just friends”

In reality, Crystal hated the idea of it not working. She would do anything to keep their relationship as is. The flirting, the electric touches, they kept her going. Made her feel wanted. Gigi agreed to the offer in an instant, letting out a breath she was holding and physically relaxing at the way the unspoken had finally been spoken.

But they were still both terrified.

Crystal was the first to arrive at the small cafe. It's a quaint little shop - quiet, not too empty nor too full. Perfect for a first date. In theory. In practise, the first date has more to do with the compatibility of those in attendance. This shouldn’t have been a problem for Crystal and Gigi, they could spend hours and hours talking to each other from the safety of their bedrooms. Apparently doing this in person is easier said than done.

Gigi walked in nervously and Crystal was overwhelmed the moment they locked eyes. Gigi joined her at the table she had taken up in the corner. They sat opposite each other. The tension could have been cut with a knife. Crystal sipped on her tea she had ordered not long before, and Gigi stood up slowly, announcing she’d get herself a drink.

When she sat back down, the conversation didn’t pick up as well as they had hoped. It didn’t really pick up at all. Suddenly they were reduced to simple small talk, as if they had never even met before. Crystal could feel Gigi’s knee touching hers under the table. It didn’t spend sparks flying through her body. She felt uncomfortable. She didn’t know what to say anymore, it was like the title of this being a ‘date’ had taken every word out of Crystal’s mouth. The thing was, she still felt so strongly to Gigi, she wanted more than anything to have that cliche moment of figuring out if a kiss goodbye on the first date was too much, of laughing at stupid jokes, of interlocking picky fingers until they’re bold enough to preoperly hold hands. She wanted that with Gigi. But she felt awkward, like their chemistry had vanished.

Gigi wasn’t any help either. She would stare off, deep in thought. But it wasn’t like how she had stared before. No, before she would stare at Crystal with what might have been described at love in her eyes. Pupils wide, smiling contently. Now she looked right through Crystal, trying to come up with something good to say, but coming up just as empty as Crystal had. While the date wasn’t completely silent between them, it was undeniably awkward. Unlike any interaction they’d had before.

When Gigi finished her coffee, she left. Excused herself and apologised that the date hadn’t lived up to expectations. Neither knew who, or what to blame for it. Crystal didn’t leave straight after. She sat there for a while, ordering another tea and letting herself get lost in her thoughts. Just as she felt tears behind her eyes, Jan walked in. Despite the fact that she was still in the corner, feeling small as ever, the blonde spotted her instantly, her face falling when she saw Crystal’s glassy eyes. As soon as she had her latte in hand, she sat down by Crystal.

“What happened. Why are you alone? Did someone stand you up? Oh my god I’ll kill them. Do you want a hug?”

Jan had never been the best at comforting upset friends, her constantly high energy often not matching the mood of the room. Crystal didn’t mind. They had all gotten used to it, and knew the myriad of questions she would ask came from love. Crystal let out a sad giggle at Jan’s energy despite the situation, and nodded to say, yeah, I do want a hug.

Jan always gave the best hugs. She held on tightly, giving a little squeeze every now and again, as if trying to either take her friend’s pain away, or pass on some of her own happiness. When Crystal started lightly crying onto her shoulder, Jan just hugged tighter and whispered to her that it would be ok, and that she wasn't going anywhere. She waited for Crystal to pull away first, and when she did, she wiped her tears with her thumb and gave her the softest look.

“I had a bad date”

Neither Crystal nor Gigi had mentioned their date to their other friends, but Jan wasn’t surprised when she started to tell the whole story of what happened. The two girls spent a couple hours in the corner of the coffee shop, Jan refusing to leave until Crystal was back to laughing and smiling again. She couldn’t do anything to help Crystal and Gigi sort themselves out, but she could be a shoulder to cry on. And sometimes, that's all you need.

When Gigi had left, the first thing she did was ring Jackie. She explained everything, from how much they had talked in lockdown, to the failed date. Gigi was confused. Jackie somehow wasn’t.

“Y’all are forcing it. You made this connection when we were all stuck inside, and now suddenly things are different. You’re trying to act like things aren’t. Of course it’s gonna be awkward. But if you stick to that stupid ‘stick to being just friends if the date fails’ agreement, I’m kicking both your asses”

Trust it to Jackie to make some sense of the situation.

After the date, Gigi and Crystal were scared to talk to each other at all - flirting or not. This is what they were scared of, and yet neither were bold enough to make a move to get them out of it. A few weeks passed, and they had barely exchanged a few words. They would steal glances at each other during group outings, but the other never seems to notice, or at least not pay attention like they used to. Crystal remembered when Gigi would purposely brush her hand on her thigh when they were sitting next to each other. Gigi remembered when Crystal would wink when she caught her staring. They didn’t do that anymore.

The last week of summer had the four friends buzzing with excitement - Pride was finally happening! It was supposed to happen much earlier, but couldn’t go ahead due to the lockdown. Everyone was beyond pleased when they found out Pride had only been postponed and not cancelled, and would be taking place at the end of Summer instead. Jan, Jackie, Gigi, and Crystal didn’t even have to ask for them to go together - they had been going as a group every year since they had come out to each other. Over the years, they started to get more and more excited for the event.

It was surprisingly warm despite the time of year, but it allowed the group to enjoy the sun. The energy of pride was hardly ever dampened, but it was often a bit more difficult to have as much fun when it rained, or if it was a little too cloudy. That, thankfully, wasn’t the case this year. The four met up an hour before the parade, just as they did every year. Gigi and Crystal were scared of ruining each other's fun, worrying that their presence would make the other feel awkward. But somehow, the atmosphere surrounding them threw that possibility out the window as soon as they locked eyes. Each girl had dawned rainbow colours, and Gigi had done the most beautiful pride-inspired makeup. Crystal was in awe.

As the morning passed, the group had visited every stall, collecting an array of freebies. Each girl had an arm filled with multi coloured wristbands and were starting to warm up to the day ahead. Gigi and Crystal stood next to each other, brushing their arms up close and smiling intimately at each other. Now when Gigi stared, Crystal stared right back, winking in the exact same way she had before. Somehow it wound Gigi up more than she was used to. By noon, the pair were joined at the hip, hands intertwined like their lives depended on it. Conversations flowed naturally, and Gigi was back to hearing the laugh she had grown to love over the past few months.

In the early afternoon, Jan and Jackie left to ‘get some food’ while Gigi and Crystal stayed on the huge field, periodically getting themselves another drink. In their tipsy state, the girls couldn’t help but giggle at their friends' departure, knowing fully well they didn’t leave to get something to eat (well, food at least). Neither girl was accustomed to drinking during the day, but pride was an annual exception, so they allowed themselves to get a bit tipsy - it was pride after all. Barely anyone was 100% sober, and if they were, it was usually because they weren’t old enough to buy any alcohol.

Later on in the day, they found a small tent, music blasting from speakers inside it and filled with people dancing like nobody was there. Crystal pulled Gigi in, giving her no other option but to dance with her. They stayed in the tent for an hour or so, bodies getting dangerously close as the time progressed, but neither girl was complaining. It was as if they were daring each other to come closer and closer.

They left the tent when the main stage started to gather a bigger audience, opting to join everyone else on the open field. Their hands stayed intertwined as they danced and sang along to the live music , the buzzing atmosphere egging them on to stay impossibly close. Crystal found herself looking at Gigi more than she did at the stage, feeling hypnotised by the way she smiled. It was a smile she Gigi wasn’t even thinking about - she was truly happy, enjoying herself by Crystal’s side. Crystal smiled just as wide and just as truthfully.

The pair decided to move to the back of the crowd when Gigi started complaining that her feet hurt. While it was the truth, it was really just an excuse to sit down with Crystal, who put her head in her lap the second she sat down. Gigi found herself not caring about the grass stains this time. The sun had started to set, and cast a dreamy golden light on the pair as they began to sober up and take a moment to relax with each other after the crazy day.

They fell back into their rhythm quickly, with Crystal’s head in Gigi’s lap and Gigi playing with her green hair. They were both so comfortable. So content. Happy. This is what they wanted, this is what they had expected for their date. However, Gigi had spent the whole day getting progressively closer to the other girl, and she was starting to get sick of coming to what seemed like a dead end. She decided it was time for that to change.

“You know Crys… I remember you promising to give me something when the lockdown finished, remember what it as?”

“When this is over, I’ll kiss you, don’t even worry about it” Crystal was only half joking. GIgi went red, but tried to act as if the thought of Crystal kissing her didn’t phase her at all.

“Oh will you now?”

“I’m not kidding”

“Well. I’d very much like that Miss Methyd”

She didn’t quite remember at first, but it didn’t take her long to understand exactly what Gigi wanted.

“Well, I’d hate to not stick to my word”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Crystal answered that question by bringing her face up to Gigi’s and planting a firm kiss on her lips. From the start it was certain, and wanting. They stayed like that for a while, letting the sounds of the music grow smaller until the only thing that existed was their touching lips and hands in each other's hair (well, Crystal's hair, Gigi had kept hers shaved after Crystal kept saying that she thought it was hot). When they pulled away, they didn’t say anything. Crystal rested her head back into Gigi’s lap and smiled up at her. Gigi smiled back.

Jan and Jackie joined the pair not long after, as if they had been watching and waiting for something to finally happen between them before they interrupted. And maybe they had been. But none of them seemed to care.

That night, Crystal went home with Gigi. They made up for lost time, taking in each other's presence and the way their bodies worked together as if they were made to fit, and they never let go of eachother until morning.

#here it is y'all #finally finished #pls tell me if u like it !!!#and if u want more content from me !!!!#give me prompts n stuff :)))#gigi goode #crystal methyd #jan #jan sport #jackie cox #side jan x jackie #gigi x crystal #lesbian au #drag race #rpdr #rpdr12 #i love the season 12 girls

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