burningxheaven

burningxheaven

[burningxheaven]

Welcome to my indie. Penned my Leila, EST, 25, She/Her

Brooklyn Cox (Madison Pettis) || Intro || Pinterest || Connections || Neo Mancuso (Tom Welling) || Intro || Pinterest || Connections || Damian Cole (Charlie Hunnam) || Intro || Pintrest || Connections || McKinley Ryan (Antonia Gentry) || Intro || Pintrest || Connections || Killian O'Rourke (Tyriq Withers) || Intro || Pintrest || Connections || Carrigan O'Rouke (Michelle Randolph) Nico Macavoy (Jake Weary)

[scarsrcmain]

It took Jason a second to register his uncle at the door—posted up along side what would eventually become the office of his new fucking gym. The whole damned thing was still so surreal to Jason—the gym, his uncle back in the city—and he couldn't have hid it if he tried—the slow curve of his mouth that followed as Nico stepped into the space. His always hardened jaw practically eased on the spot, and a ghost of something genuine, almost child-like, flickered in those blue eyes of his, giving Jason up like he was facing twenty to life.

"Fuckin' hell Nico," Jason rasped out. It was all he could manage, and he didn't wait for a response. He just moved to bring it in and clap a hand to uncle's backside. "Proud enough to give me a hand?" A low laugh rumbled off his chest. "C'mon, lemme give ya the fuckin' tour, ol' man."

[burningxheaven]

"Fuck yeah, I am." He said with a smile, "What do ya need help with? and you should know, I am in need of a job now that I've returned; it seems my old association isn't fond of those who leave, returning." Maybe that could be good for Nico, finally getting himself into the MC.

"Yes, give me the tour. I want to see everything. I also want to know everything you have been up to while I was away. How has the city been and all that crap too."

[scarsrcmain]

"Get the fuck outta here," Jason couldn't believe what he was hearing. Him? Running the place? He was the guy who cleaned up the mess and did the dirty work, the bouncer, the enforcer—not the guy in charge. And just the thought of getting his ass back into the fighting game, even like this, hit Jason like a shot straight to the dome—profound and humbling. He was just barely holding his shit together.

"Y'really want me to be the asshole to run this shit?" Jason went on, saying it like he needed to hear the words come out of his own damn mouth to actually believe them. "You're fuckin' with me, right? Both of ya.”

There was a pause, then a loud, humorless scoff that followed, filling the longing silence and echoing gruffly off the warehouse walls—his warehouse walls.

Jason didn't know what else to say. His jaw flexed once, then twice, but his answer was stuck somewhere in his throat, thick and suffocating, lodged between a knot of disbelief and something far more dangerous—that Damian wasn’t fucking with him; he was dead fucking serious.

Suddenly, those blues, usually so sharp, so piercing, looked too damn bright in the warehouse lighting. He blinked—hard, sizing up the space once again. Then, he looked over at Sophia, who was still jumping, and finally over to Damian, his president, his best friend. The excitement in his tone was a solid, undeniable. And like hell, Jason would refuse the call. He straightened himself up, squaring his shoulders like he might as well have been strapping on battle armor.

"Fuck it," Jason finally manned up. “Yeah, alright, let’s do this shit." He paused, then nodded his gratitude to Damian and nudged Sophia—the right asshole for the job through and through. “Drop and gimme 20, Soph.”

[burningxheaven]

Damian held the smug look on his face as he gave Jay an assuring nod. Jason has done all the dirty work Ian had given him without a complaint. Damian would say 'with a smile on his face' but that wasn't in Jay's style. Damain looked down at his daughter, "I think he might have taken too many hits on that old nuggon of his. He doesn't understand what we are saying." He teased his friend. His best friend.

"We want you to run this place, Jay. It's yours. I will, of course, help, and I'm sure Ox and Hero will want to be involved, but it's all you, bud. Jay's boxing or whatever the hell you want to call it.

D waited and watched Jay's reaction; he wasn't one of outward emotion, but he knew all the excitement was reeling through his head, all those emotions he never showed.

Damian's smug spread wider into a smile as Jason agreed, "Ya hear that, Soph? We are doing this shit!" He said with a small laugh as she jumped on him and he picked her up.

"Oh shit. We are starting now, baby girl. You'd better get to work, and you better not disappoint." He teased, his voice was light and encouraging. She knew it wasn't out of a place of pressure. He dropped her on her feet, and she got right to work, doing the most horrid push-ups ever. "This is so much better than ballet!"

[destroyingxolympus]

Closed Starter: @burningxheaven Where: Dive Bar

It was both awkward and comforting being around her sister. She felt connected to her, yet Brooklyn was a stranger now, no longer the older sister she'd once shared a bond with. The realization left the younger Pierce sibling feeling muddled, lost in a tangle of emotions she couldn't quite comprehend. "Cool, cool… yeah." Stuffing her hands into her pockets, she slowly rocked back and forth on the heels of her worn Vans. "Me? Just chilling… you know." She sighed, then quickly added, "You hear about what happened at the pit the other night?" A sickening feeling washed over her as the flashes returned, sending her back to that moment.

"I don't want to go into details… I just.. I want to say I'm sorry." The apology lingered in the air before Rav finally turned to take in her sister. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you."

[burningxheaven]

Brooklyn cleared her throat and gave a small nod. "Yeah, I heard about it." She said with a somber smile. She wasn't gonna push her to go any further. She knew what it was like to be in Rav's shoes; she had been through it. She knew the struggles she would be facing the next couple of weeks. And there wasn't anything Brooklyn could do to take away that pain. Rav would have to find her own way through it, and she just hoped to be there to support her along the way.

Brooklyn shook her head. "You don't have to apologize Rav." She said softly. The last thing she wanted was Rav feeling guilty. "I didn't give you any reason to trust me to listen to me. That's on me for burning that bridge." She paused as she took a step closer, "I just hope that with some time, we could build a new one?"

[destroyingxolympus]

Seeing that face, not on a TV screen or a phone, she froze. It was him. Older now, somehow even more attractive than she remembered. Those oceans of cobalt eyes, the very same she used to drown in. Sharp, chiseled features and that deep, resonant voice that had haunted her fantasies and called to her at night… And here he was, saying her name as if it were the first time.

"Neo…" Ivory sank into the tender flesh of her lower lip, delicate fingers constricting around her clipboard. "You'll be with me today." But the words tremor, her breathing a struggle to settle. "Um, this way, please…"

[burningxheaven]

Neo couldn't believe his eyes. She was here. She was standing right in front of him. The girl he gave his heart to, the one he hoped to marry. She took a piece of his soul with her that day, leaving him behind, hurting just like everyone else did. His eyes narrowed as he looked at her, overwhelmed by the thoughts and feelings firing off in his head.

He schooled his expression; it was blank, sharp, and every bit of icy as he followed her back into the room. He needed to contain, to stay in control. He couldn't let his ugly side get the better of him. She wasn't deserving of that. She left him. She shouldn't get his anger. He should be indifferent

But he couldn't pull that off. Not as the door clicked closed behind him and he was stepping in close to her, taking in her scent, every little freckle on her face, ber pump lips. "What the actual fuck, Libby."

[scarsrcmain]

“Don’t push it.” Jason shot Brooklyn a look. Not a glare, but his eyes were sharp enough to toe the line between a warning and a challenge. “Ya won’t like my answer anyway,” he added, his faint smirk lowering the same moment his stare did. It dropped to where Brooklyn had nudged him, then flicked over to the bar top and settled on the empty glass in his own hand. 

He was looking down at it for a long while, long enough for his words to hold some weight and for Brooklyn to tease him about them. “Nah, not like that.” Jason said, but didn’t elaborate—couldn’t.

There was just something so oddly sobering about the drunken honesty. The weight of it like a gut punch. It jabbed right where the warmth of the alcohol and the nostalgia of the past had settled in the pit of his stomach, bringing with it a renewed sense of clarity Jason hadn't asked for but didn’t fight. 

He wasn't eighteen anymore, and he didn't want to be. 

“Y’know what,” Jason went on, his eyes finally lifting up from the empty glass. "Just forget ‘bout it—the whole thing was fuckin’ stupid.” he shook his head, giving her a short, rough wave of his hand like the movement alone could take back the words. “But I’ll hear out whateva ya gotta say to me.” 

His brow ticked up next. Brooklyn must have been more shitfaced than she was letting on, because Jason had been talking to the woman behind the bar when he’d asked to put the drinks on the MC’s tab. He didn't get the chance to clarify before Brooklyn was up and out of her seat. She was going on about fights and ideas and trust with a familiar glint in her eye that Jason had come to learn only meant one thing: trouble.

“Nah—c'mon. Not fuckin' here." Jason tried to stop her, his hand shooting out and closing in on nothing but the stale air. “Goddammit.” He gritted his teeth as she scampered off, bringing that same hand back up to his forehead like tomorrow’s hangover hit him right then and there.

It wasn't just that he still didn’t trust her. O’Malley’s was an MC spot; he was a regular, muscle for them from time to time. He wasn't about to burn a bridge in the name of the good ol' days—not when the Veil was still at large. And sure as hell not when they were on the payroll. All he wanted was to knock back a few cold ones, catch a buzz, and watch the game in peace. Not relive some bullshit they used to do back in the day. 

Yet, Jason still pulled himself upright. The movement in his ribs was stiffer than usual but never enough to keep that old, familiar rush at bay. He knew what to do with it—what that punk-ass kid would do—and he choked that shit down, far down. He could play along—but on his terms. 

Jason waited until the last play. The Yanks clinched, and he pumped a quiet fist just as other patrons flooded the bar to celebrate, completely obscuring his view of Brooklyn. That's when Jason caught the eye of the other bartender, sweetheart—an older woman the enforcer had come to respect over the years. She was the anchor of O'Malley's, could manage a dozen rowdy bikers without even batting a lash, and like hell Jason was about to get on her shit list. 

“This, too.” He mouthed as he reached over and helped himself to the Jameson behind the counter. “And give yourself a fat-ass tip.” She shot him a knowing glance, and Jason tapped the bottle against the counter as his confirmation. The MC was good for it.

Then, Jason made a clean break for the door, drawing his hood to really sell it. He waited outside with his boot kicked up to the brick beside the entrance. The bottle was dangling from his fist, and those blues—they narrowed, then sharpened. "You're gettin' slow."

[burningxheaven]

Ever since Brooklyn went through her redemtion arch, she hasn't been much of a drinker. Truth be told, drowning your sorrows in a bottle of whiskey for several months isn't very great. This drunk was different, though; it's a good drunk, a happy drunk. The kind of drunk that was out of good times, happy memories, and a lot of laughter.

The kind of drunk that brought out the reckless carefree side of her that had her skipping through the bar trynna distract the bartender. Brooklyn wasn't very up to date with the MC business, what bars belonged to where, tabs, and all that shit. She knew this was one of his favorite spots, though.

She had a feeling Jason would follow her wherever she dragged him. In her heart, she was helping. He needed this distraction, to have some good memories and remember baby. She also enjoyed spending time with him, but she wouldn't admit that to me. Admit that this night has been great so far.

Brooklyn talked to the younger bartender, capturing his attention by some random ass question, though everyone's attention fell on the screens as the last play of the game went out and the Yankees were able to secure a win.

Looks like they will have something to celebrate tonight.

Once she saw Jason move for the two, she saluted the bartender, raising her forehead and waving off like a soldier before spinning on her heel and skipping out. Brooklyn pulled her bottom lip between her teeth in an attempt to hide the shit-eating grin on her face as she looked at him with his head pulled up and the bottle in her hand.

"I am not!" She protested as she gave him a light yet playful punch to the arm. "These shoes were not made for running." She said as she kicked her leg out to show off a dazzling pair of silver heels. "Come on." She said as she opened the car door that was waiting for them. "Does a grampa like you with a flip phone know what an Uber is?" She asked as she slid into the seat.

Brooklyn made a point of not telling him where they were going. That little spot they loved so much down at the beach. There was something about it that let them sit in silence and enjoy each other's company. Some nights they would talk a lot, and others they would just enjoy the view.

It was the place she learned the most about him, and it could bring him some ease. She could see it in the way he carried himself, the tightness in his shoulders, and the ice behind his eyes. He was on edge, and who could blame him with the veil running around.

"Please tell me you have upgraded from the Nokia by now." She said as she looked over at him, knowing that was not the case. "It's giving Gibbs from NCIS."

[destroyingxolympus]

Closed Starter For: @burningxheaven Who: Libby & Neo Where: Physical therapy spa When: Re-meeting after three & a half years.

Avoiding Neo Mancuso had been a battle. For three and a half years, she had done nothing but try to remain invisible, a shadow of the past, better forgotten than remembered. That hadn’t stopped her from missing him every day that slipped by. But fate was cruel. Despite all her efforts, they were now on the same team, and she could no longer remain a whisper.

"Mancuso," Glassy hues goggled at the back of his head, her heart enmeshed violently behind her ribcage, the sound reverberating in her ears. "-you're next…"

[burningxheaven]

Neo still remembers the last day they spent together. A win from a big game, her asking to hold off celebrating and go back to his place for some alone time before the partying began. He didn't know that would be the last time he saw her. He was just shy of graduating, already drafted for his dream team in the NHL. It ripped him apart, more than he would ever let her or anyone else know.

He went on to join the NHL and he had a few good seasons with his former team. But now he was in a new city, new apartment, new arena and a new team. He was drafted and now he was starting all over again making bonds, building relationships with his teammates and coaches. Neo was scrolling on his phone when his name was called out, the voice was soft, yet familiar. And when his head snapped up, his eyes meeting her's there were flames growing inside him, on the verge of escaping. His head tilted to the side in disbelief, utter shock written between his face for a split second before he schooled it in. "Libby?"

[burningxheaven]

Location: Jay's new Gym Status: Closed @scarsrcmain

"I couldn't believe my ears when I heard about this playce." Nico said as he stepped inot the space. He had been gone for quote some time. After the number Francesca did on him, trying to use him for a story and making him fall for her... it did some damage, damage he needed to be free of. So he left New York. It's been about a year since then, since he saw his nephew last.

"What is all this Jay? Can't say I am surprised though, consider me proud."

[scarsrcmain]

"Ain't just 'bout me,” Jason leaned into the space, his voice dropping to a low rumble—especially now that the Veil put targets on all their backs. "Whole MC could use a spot to practice.” He nudged Sophia, acknowledging her words from before. “Keep us sharp and shit."

He was looking at the far wall now like he had the gym already mapped out in his head. Heavy bags, speed bags, weights, mats and an octagon dead in the center of it all. His knuckles curled, then slowly relaxed like his fist could already feel the rush, the pain, the fire of stepping into that imaginary cage—a void throwing drunks out of the Pitt and brawling for cash never could seem to truly fill.

And damn, Jason missed it.

“Not a bad cover for the other shit, too.” He ran calloused thumb over the edge of his jaw, snapping back to the logistics. “Just gotta find the right asshole to run the joint." His shoulders lifted into a shrug as he looked between Damian and his daughter. "Maybe Soph knows a guy."

[burningxheaven]

"You have a great point, we could all use it to be honest." He said with an exhale. He didn't like how things were turning out these days, more and more people getting hurt and ending up in the hospital. His own sister landing in there after being shot. They needed to learn to protect themselves and he didn't know a man better for the job that his very own best friend.

Damian hummed in responce, it would be a good cover for the place, just what they need. "Got anyone in mind Soph?" He looked down at his daughter as she started jumping up and down. "Uncle Jay, Uncle Jay!" SHe cheered and a smile crossed his face.

"What do you say Jay? Want to open a gym here? I think Soph thinks you are just the right asshole for the job." He said with some excitiment in his bones. This could be the next big them for them, something they could do together too.

[vcdkacranberry-deactivated20260]

holly  knew  she  was  being  reckless  ,  but  she'd  spent  so  much  of  her  life  playing  it  safe  ,  she  decided  that  maybe  taking  a  risk  wouldn't  be  the  worst  thing  in  the  world.  she  nodded  at  kelly's  words  ,  hands  moving  to  settle  against  his  chest.  “  i'll  help  you  ,  ”  she  agreed.  “  you  wanna  get  out  of  here  ?  ”

[burningxheaven]

A grin spread across Kelly's face as the warmth of her hand spread through his chest. "I know you will." He hummed as he stepped in a bit closer to her. "I do." He let his hand slide down into her free hand. "I know just the place."

[prcttyhurts]

── CLOSED STARTER

for: @burningxheaven (carrigan) where: dressing room at bergdorf goodman

Tallulah was on a mission now, rummaging through expensive dress after expensive dress in her fitting room suite. She tossed each away like she would last week’s edition of Harper’s Baazar, nothing seeming to match the vision Tallulah had etched into her mind for the upcoming charity gala she was organizing. She wanted something slightly tighter, a little shorter, more low-cut perhaps? Classy, of course, but an ensemble with just enough va va voom to say she was ready to get back on the horse after James' passing, and nothing was going to hold her down now. 

“Car–!” Tallulah called out from behind the velvet curtain, half-zipped in a Tom Ford number that was all wrong for her. “Absolutely nothing’s working." She sighed loudly, her magnificent pout adorning her high cheekbones now. "Please tell me you're at least having more luck than I am.”

[burningxheaven]

Carrigan was looking forward to the upcoming charity event, anything to spend her husband's money on a designer gown she would only wear once. Plus, it was a night away from the kids. Carrigan had slipped into an almost decent dress. It was stunning, but the light color of it washed out her paler skin and blonde hair. "Ugh, No!" She said as she pushed her own velvet curtain open and stepped out.

"Let me see what you got on." She said as she looked at herself in the larger mirrors. "I love this dress, but this dress doesn't love me. You would think I worked my ass off to get my body back after Lily destroyed me, only to look this bad in a dress." She let out an exhale as she waited for her friend to come out.

[scarsrcmain]

“And ya made it easy to wanna show off.” Jason countered, voice low and edged in amusement. “Especially in that car.” His mouth curved, just barely and just over the rim of his glass. The booze was doing exactly what it was supposed to, exactly what crazy ol’ Tommy always warned him it would: keep hair on his chest and keep him honest—real fuckin' honest, kid.

He looked over at Brooklyn more directly now, his eyes less shadowed, more honest. “Then ya got nothin’ to be afraid of.” Jason told her, leaning in just enough to make sure he was heard over the clank of pint glasses and the scrape of pool cues. "Cuz ya never disappointed me.” At least, that’s not what Jason would have called it, not exactly. Guys like him knew better—or should've, than to count on anyone other than themselves or be more than just a threat that everyone kept at arm's length. 

Then, lower, much lower, almost inaudible against the ball game on TV, the booze betrayed him, giving Jason up like it was facing twenty-five to life with no shot at parole. “But no one knocked the wind outta me like y’did though, and I've taken some fuckin’ brutal hits.” Jason paused only to huff out a breath, the sound bittersweet in a way that could only be blamed on the whiskey. “Scared the shit outta me, too.”

He stared down at the near empty glass that had ratted him out, shoulders lifting into a shrug while the corner of his mouth twitched into something that resembled a half-hearted smirk. “Always did.” Still might, even after everything. 

And, he hated it.

Jason couldn't have knocked back the rest of his whiskey faster, the burn still flaring in his chest when his attention snapped back to the Alina of it all. "Ya don't owe me an explanation or anythin',” he told her. Not anymore, not since they split, and Jason wanted to be clear on that. "But if ya wanna tell me,” he went on, setting his cup back down to the counter. “I’ll hear ya out on it."

At the rambles that followed, Jason didn’t say anything at first. Just huffed a low breath and shook his head as Brooklyn talked in a long circle. Because in that instant, it was like nothing had changed even though everything had. Like he was still eighteen in that same neighborhood dive watching those same damn Yanks about to blow the playoffs while Brooklyn was going on about something he was only half-listening to.

When Jason finally spoke, he almost laughed. Almost. He gave her a quick nod instead, recalling how the rest of that night unfolded. Somewhere in between the heckling and the shove Jason pressed squarely to the prick's chest New York managed to pull through all those years ago. “Yeah, it was.” He said, his eyes remaining fixed on the TV ahead. “Got us a win that night, too.”

It was the bottom of the ninth now, New York at bat with it all on the line, three outs away from repeating history. “Nah, c’mon, don’t do that.” Jason actually turned away from the ball game. For once, it wasn’t a pride thing—just a business thing. “Put it all on my tab, sweetheart.” He pushed his empty cup to the bartender, and like hell he was taking no for an answer.

Then, he turned back to Brooklyn. “The MC’s,” he clarified, though he figured she already had somewhat of an idea of what that really meant. “Y’know the club rate and shit. It'd just be stupid if ya paid.”

[burningxheaven]

Brooklyn let out a little hum, "Show off for me or show me off." She teased him lightly. She gave his arm a small nudge to show she was just kidding, thought she did want to hear the answer to that question, thought she already knew, or thought she did. Both would be her best guess.

As he looked at her now, she felt herself relaxing somewhat, "Yeah?" she questioned. She thought she had disappointed him several times by now. She knew she wasn't perfect, far from it. And maybe it was trying to live up to her own expectations of herself that was her ultimate downfall. Jason always looked at her like she was worth a billion bucks.

"Well, good. I would have hated it if I did." She said softly, She knew she fucked up in the past. They were young and dumb. They made mistakes. She knew what she had to do to gain his trust back and build a semblance of a foundation on which they once relied. She wouldn't stop trying until she succeeded, until they were on better terms again.

And the first step was in the right direction.

Brooklyn leaned in at his words; they were low and barely audible, but they were there. She felt her lips part and a small gasp escape at his words, and a pink blush cross her cheeks. "I wondered why you were always so breathless. I just chalked it up to you being out of shape or something." An obvious tease, as he was the farthest thing from out of shape.

"Feelings do that to you, though, leave you a bit scared." She knew that well. It was the main reason she hadn't told him sooner. Fear of losing him, irrational yet strong. She wished she were stronger back then, braver. They could have been so great together if she had opened up and fixed their other issues, too.

Brooklyn watched as he knocked back the rest of his drink, and she evened herself out at the bar, letting her gaze drift away from him. "I know I don't owe you one, but I do." She paused, "Want to tell you." Maybe it was what she needed to finally put that mess behind her. She had been holding on to it, letting the guilt sit at the back of her mind as a constant dull ache, never fully leaving her alone.

Brooklyn liked the feeling. Of the warmth the alcohol brought, but also how familiar this felt. Like no time had changed. They were those dumb kids all over again. Except now Brooklyn could hold her alcohol... a little better.

"You did always look good defending the yankee's honor in a sexy ass bar fight." She said with a soft laugh. She did mean that, though; she loved watching him fight. He was so talented and good at it. She wasn't one to shy away or cry to be careful or be overly concerned when he came home with bruises.

"Okay, okay. I'll let you win this time." She said with a bubbly smile, "Only because I love it when you call me sweetheart. Do it again." She leaned on the bar and looked up at him with a smile. She missed this. Missed nights like these. Missed him.

Brooklyn slammed her hand down and jumped off the barstool. She briefly grabbed his arm to stabilize herself before looking at him with wide eyes. "I got an idea!" She said brightly, a big smile on her face, the devious kind. It was paired with a familiar twinkle in her eye, one that said they were in for a good time and she wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Do you trust me?" She paused before shaking her head. "You know what? Don't answer that. We know you don't. Just go with it anyway." She said as she waggled her brows at him. She picked up the glass the bartender just set down and took a drink. "Drink up." She said as she whipped out her phone and ordered an Uber. "I'll distract the bartender. I believe you know what your job is. Just like the good old days, Jajy."

She raised her hand to her forehead and gave Jason a salute before chugging the rest of her glass and moving down the bar and calling over the bartender, leaning over the bar and twirling her hair to obtain all of his attention.

[vcdkacranberry-deactivated20260]

“  well  ,  i'm  sorry  to  hear  it.  ”  she  could  only  imagine  it  was  unpleasant  walking  every  day  in  his  shoes  ,  and  she  felt  terrible  for  him.  holly  found  herself  instinctively  wanting  to  comfort  him.  holly  reached  forward  ,  a  hand  gently  resting  oh  his  shoulder.  she  wasn't  usually  the  type  of  girl  to  carelessly  got  involved  with  people  ,  but  with  everything  happening  lately  ,  she  was  feeling  a  little  more  daring.  “  i'm  very  willing  and  really  interested.  let  me  help  you.  ”

[burningxheaven]

Kelly leaned in at her words. Very willing and really interested. His favorite combination. "Oh, yeah?" He raised a brow as he slowly allowed the space between them to draw closer. "Help me than. Holly." His voice was low and husky as he placed a hand on her hip. "I promise there is a lot in it for you."

[scarsrcmain]

“Yeah, shit." Jason straightened, finding his usual, solid stance—the movement cleaner than it had been since the wreck. "Club gave us a run for our money.” He muttered, sizing up the warehouse again, a thumb tracing over an old gash at his jawline. Mentally, he was sectioning it off: space for the butchery, the front, maybe some storage—a back office? The hell he knew.

"A punching gym, daddy.” Sophia piped up before Jason could and poked a bruise at his knuckle. “Uncle Jay needs more practice. He keeps getting beat up.” His stare shot down to the little girl, all that tactical focus gone. Then, Jason laughed—he actually laughed, a rough bark of a sound that rolled off his chest.

“Damn, pipsqueak. That's cold.” He smirked and gave her a low-five before looking over to Damian. “Kid’s onto somethin' though.”

[burningxheaven]

Damian let out a dry laugh, "Your tellin me." But they both had been through it when it came to the club. Once Damian found out the truth about the shit going on there, he started planning and taking action. While things these days were much better, the past left a bad taste in Ian's mouth.

Damian's eyebrows raised, and he pressed his lips together at Soph's words. It was definitely a good idea. "You think?" He said with a smile, "Yeah, Uncle Jay, what is with that? I thought you were supposed to be a good fighter." He teased along with his daughter.

"What do ya say, Soph? Should we make Uncle Jay a better area to practice?" He paused, "You may be right Jay. I do think she's onto something. And, I think it's right up your alley."

[scarsrcmain]

Jason didn't smile—not in the way most people would recognize. But something in his expression shifted and those blues lost their hardened edge for a fraction of a second. Just long enough to catch the smile Brooklyn was trying to hide. “Yeah we did, didn't we?" His voice was low, letting his stare drift over her shoulder out past the dim-lit bar and into a fractured memory he snuffed out as quickly as he recalled it. "Just a couple of idiot kids, but we always did have a helluva good time.”

His calloused fingers curled into a half-fist on the bar top, a reflex against the pull of the past, and he focused on the present now. The way Brooklyn challenged him right back and saw right through the empty threat—always did. “Bankin' on it." He didn't waver, holding her gaze like a challenge of its own. “Cuz ya never were afraid of me.” And that was something that still seemed to be true.

There was a pause, enough time for Jason to take one last look at the phone screen—at Brooke, Brookie, Alina. Whoever the hell she was back then. Then, for his eyes to drag back up again to Brooklyn, meeting not just her eyes but the firmness in her voice and the weight behind her words. It was grounding, and he probably should have given her more credit. Because even with all their shit, she still knew exactly where to find him, was still clocking his cheap shots, and still didn’t back down from them.

He gave her the smallest nod—one of those nods that said more than his words ever could. His way of telling her that he finally saw what she was trying to do too, the effort she was making. And that beneath all the scars and hardened edges the recognition of it was there, somewhere.

“Guess that’s why ya picked it, huh Brookie.” Jason used the old nickname on purpose. There was no heat to his words. No judgement, no ill will either. Just something that passed for understanding—or rather, trying to, a ceasefire in the wake of the Camaro. And a step towards wrapping his thick skull around the confession she'd laid on him months ago. Getting your shit rocked in a car wreck would do that to you.

At her quip, Jason merely shook his head and leaned back into his seat, pressing his shoulder blades to the back of the stool. “Yeah, yeah,” he didn't fight her on it for the sake of moving on from this part of the conversation, voice low, steeled in that infamous gruffness he wore like a second skin. "I can live with that.”

Then, Jason shot Brooklyn a sideways glance and watched her drain half her drink. It was with the kind of swiftness that no amount of whiskey could wash away, but hell, he wasn’t about to stop her from trying. Nah—he was about to do the same and go sip for sip like they had some unspoken pact of needing to take the edge off.

He raised the glass, his eyes lifting to the briefly forgotten ball game on the TV. The Yankees were at bat again now with only an inning to go and everything on the line. “Nah, it was Chicago—White Sox." Jason told her, stretching his knuckles as if they remembered that game too and the wisecrack that got his ass thrown out. "Prick wouldn't stop runnin' his mouth." He shook his head, then took a long pull of his drink. "What 'bout him?"

[burningxheaven]

Brooklyn gave him a nod, "In that car especially." The good times, the spicy times. They made a lot of mess and found themselves in trouble. She's pretty sure she got naked more in that car than in any other place. "You made it easy to be a little reckless." When they first met, she was so closed off and uptight. But not in a way of privilege but in a way of protection and fear. Fear of being caught. He taught her how to survive first and then live.

Brooklyn let out a soft laugh, "Oh, never. You were not the slightest bit scary, I saw right through those frozen blue eyes as you started me down, that gun pulled and thought, wow, this kid is so dam cute, I could pinch your cheeks." She teased lightly. "Never scared of you." She paused. In a much softer whisper, "just disappointing you." A fear she let come true, and she was right to be afraid of it; she hated that feeling of disappointing him and yet she had done it a few times.

The club. The backroom, the Alina.

The thing about Jason was his face, movements, and expressions said more than his words ever could, and she learned how to read him. A quirk of his lip was his version of a smile; his tone was everything, and the intensity of his eyes could change the meaning of a sentence. The small nod told her what she needed to know. Recognition of effort, and she was trying like hell.

Brooklyn tilted her head to the side with a big smile as he called her Brookie. "Yeah, Maybe. I could have gone with anything." She said with a small nod. His tone now was different than the past few times the topic came up; this time, it was free of judgment. It wasn't out of malice. She never told him the whole story, though she was sure she would need another drink for that. She's never told anyone the whole story. Henry took the small bits of info and said Okay, she barely gave anything to Oxana. "I had a good reason for it all, you know." She pauses as she looks away from him. "Reasons I can get into here," She looked around, not in public. "But I'll tell you everything. If you ever want to know."

It's a peace offering, an explanation. So maybe someday he won't blame himself or have a dozen questions.

Brooklyn pressed her lips together and let out a pop sound as he graciously moved the conversation along. This wasn't the time to fall into that sad shit and get all deep and emotional. Well, Jason doesn't get emotional.

It wasn't the first time they went tit for tat in a bar, and likely wouldn't be their last. In these moments, though Brooklyn could hold her own, each drink was getting closer to not being true. Each one she poured down, she could feel the alcohol flush grow warmer on her cheeks and the warmth inside spread.

She let out a small laugh, "I don't know. I just remember him being so mad." She said with a smile. "We just kinda didn't help, egging him on and shit with the heckling." She looked back up at the TV. "I wasn't sure where I was going with that, but you know. It was another good memory."

"Excuse me," She called out to the bartender, "We will take another round please." Before she looked over at Jason. "Don't worry. This one's on me. I probably owe you for something, and if I don't, consider it payment for emotional damage or something."

[vcdkacranberry-deactivated20260]

“  name's  can  do  that  to  you  ,  ”  she  stated  ,  nodding  at  the  man's  words.  she  knew  what  it  was  like  to  walk  around  with  the  weight  of  a  name.  holly  observed  him  silently  ,  listening  to  what  the  guy  had  to  say.  “  i'm  sorry  to  hear  that  ,  ”  the  blonde  told  him  sincerely.  “  that  must  be  terribly  difficult  for  you.  i  ...  i  can't  even  imagine  what  that's  like.  ”  she  swallowed  ,  eyeing  her  own  glass  briefly  before  looking  over  at  him  again.  “  is  there  anything  i  can  do  for  you  ?  to  help  you  get  your  mind  off  of  things  for  a  little  while  ?  ”

[burningxheaven]

He raised his eyebrows as a form of response. She sure was right about that. "Well, I'll tell ya, it's kinda shitty." He picked up his glass and drank more from it. Shitt was an understatement. He was miserable. He thought over her words. He could use a distraction, something to keep his mind busy. "I'm sure there is a lot you could do for me, sweetheart. The question is just how willing and interested you are."

[scarsrcmain]

Jason took a good look around the warehouse, letting the door clang shut behind him. A small smirk was already tugging at the corner of his mouth, Sophia and her brutal honesty echoing off the graffitied walls and high ceilings. The kid wasn't wrong—not at all. Place really was a shithole. It was covered in dust and grime, littered with trash and empty bottles, a couple of cracked windows and the floors could use a hell of a hosing down. But that was the point, and that’s what made it perfect.

“Dirt cheap is right, huh Soph.” Jason joked, giving her an Uncle Jay style nudge before she busied herself with Damian's phone. “Ya did good though, bro.” His voice trailed, a low, satisfied rumble. “Place really is huge. Big enough to run three friggin’ Butcheries out of if ya wanted. What the hell we gunna do with all this space?”

[burningxheaven]

"I know baby, I know." He said as he looked around. "That's the best part though, Soph. We can to fix it and make it our own which is a lot of fun. And Uncle Jay is right, it was really cheap." He said with a smile as he looked around the space, pondering all the possibilities. It was a perfect fixer upper.

"Honestly I don't know. We could do anything with it." He said honestly. "We obviously need space for the butchery, and something as a front. Then we can really do what we want with the rest, I am open to ideas. What would you do with the space, Jay?" He looked around. "I don't want another club or anything along those lines."