your six word story — "wild strong muscle, the heart is"
name: matthew “matt” fuller
faceclaim: jacob anderson
i thought i knew exactlywhat heaven looked likeit was football practiceon a sunny friday afternoonit was pictures of baby yodawhere he has his little arms raisedbut then you walked into the bar& into my lifeand you were cuter than he ever waswild strong muscle, the heart isso i-
a groan escaped his lips and matt dragged his ballpoint through the words he’d just penned down in his crumpled, yellowed notebook. some of the pages stuck together, a trace of all the times he’d knocked over his lukewarm lager in his attempts to write a decent poem. he was sure that if he got it just right, he’d be able to woo the hottie at the bar he’d been staring at for the past hour.
chicks dig poetry, right ?
( truth be told, matt thought it was kind of dope, too. he just wasn’t very good at stringing the words together and making them rhyme. )
he sat there for what felt like forever, writing and scribbling as his glass got steadily emptier and the hour grew later and later. matt glanced at her every couple of minutes. just to see if she was still there, hoping that he would be struck by a bolt of poetic genius. it had, at some point, occurred to him that he could just go up to her & chat her up like a normal person, but somehow that felt like admitting defeat. and matt, according to coach campbell, was a winner.
at long last, his masterpiece was complete. another glimpse at the bar told him she was still there, and better yet- the dark-haired girl she had been with had disappeared. she just sat there, unmoving, staring into her glass of white wine. matt stumbled to his feet, downed the last of his beer, and went in.
“hey babe, this seat taken ?”
without waiting for an answer, he slid onto the bar stool next to her. she was looking at him now, big eyes set deep into her pallid face. she wasn’t looking great, if he was being honest. sort of sickly, as if she’d been ill for a very long time. still, an amused smile lay on her lips as she spoke.
“what can i do for you, hot stuff ?”
at the nickname, he flushed, words spilling out from his lips. “i- uh, i’ve been watchin’ you, from uh, from over there.” he gestured vaguely in the direction of his table, where his empty beer glass now stood abandoned. the smile faded from her features, and it took him a couple of seconds to figure out why.
“no! no. oh my god, no. not in like, a creepy way or whatever. i… i wrote you a poem. i don’t think i got it to rhyme, though.” any semblance of smoothness had definitely gone out the window, but in a final attempt to reclaim it, he put on his signature smolder™, guaranteed chick magnet.
“so, wanna hear it?”
she was straight up grinning now. damn, he hadn’t even gotten her name. “sure.”
he cleared his throat.
glanced down at his notes.
& opened his mouth.
“so it’s called, uh, love letter to the angel at the bar. that’s you.
i sure wishthat bar stool had the shape of my jawso i could finally sayan angelsat on my face”
he let out a shaky breath, eyes fixed on her face for any sign of a response. the girl stared at him, open-mouthed, before a genuine, throaty laugh escaped her mouth. “that was great, eh… what did you say your name was ?”
“matt,” said matt, sheepishly. the realization that he hadn’t thought further ahead than this was beginning to dawn on him.
“well, matt, i think you have great potential.” she was still grinning, stopping only to take another swig of wine. “in fact, i-”
before she could finish, the dark-haired girl from earlier appeared at her side, interrupting his bar stool angel with a “honeybee, we gotta get going. don’t want the boys to worry, y’know.”
whoever these boys were, matt thought they were super fucking annoying.
the girl looked at him, an apologetic smile on her face. “i’m really sorry, matt. i gotta go.” she slid off her stool, swung her purse over her shoulder, and began to walk away. matt, perhaps because he was a romantic at heart, perhaps because he’d watched a hallmark movie the night before, shouted after her:
“am i ever gonna see you again ?”
she was either already gone or pretending really hard not to hear him. not that it mattered anyway. he did see her again, rather sooner than he’d expected. matt saw her the next morning, over breakfast, as a mugshot on the news.
your six word story — "i wish i could explain myself"
NAME: michael ‘mickey’ rivero FACECLAIM: tommy martinez
At first he thought she was a mirage. Or a side effect of the heat stroke he was inevitably gonna get out here. Red dress, red lips, red heels higher than anything he’d ever seen, and waving to people like she was at some kind of meet and greet. Stopping to shake hands, to crack jokes, and at one point, he swears to god, kiss a baby.
“Who the fuck’s that?” He asks Todd, because he’s stupid as shit, and useless, but he’s the only one here. Todd blinks a second before he’s looking up and clocking who he’s pointing at. His grin is all crooked teeth.
“What, you don’t know? The bandits are in town. Y’know, from the news.” Todd replies brightly, and Mickey has to do a double take.
“That’s a bandit? You know who I’m pointing at? The bitch in red.” Mickey asks as he points at her more firmly, just to make sure Todd’s minuscule brain hasn’t got who he’s pointing at mixed up with someone else. But Todd nods insistently, like he really knows what he’s talking about, which would be a first.
“Yeah, man, that’s her, I swear. She’s the one in that video the news has got– you know, where she’s settin’ that mop on fire.” Todd clarifies, and he looks like he’s getting pretty full of himself, telling Mickey something he doesn’t know. He’ll have to take care of that later.
“… Well, I’ll be damned.” Mickey murmurs for a moment, as he watches her from afar. Now that she’s a bit closer she does look familiar. Mick shifts his jaw for a moment, simply watching silently before he’s smacking Todd on the shoulder and pushing off the step they’re sitting on with a cool, “I’ll be back.”
“I’ll come with you!” Todd calls as he tries to scramble up, but Mickey doesn’t even bother to look back at him.
“No you won’t, Todd. Stay the fuck over there.” He can hear the dull thud as Todd falls back onto the step even as he continues to make his way forward confidently, closing in on the brunette with razor sharp focus. Her back is turned to him as she’s talking to someone else– and what a fucking view. He almost doesn’t wanna ask her to turn around. He waits a bit to do it, just to savor the whole thing you know, before he’s making himself known with a smooth, “Hey there, gorgeous.”
She pauses mid sentence to glance at him behind her, arching a pretty little brow in surprise before she’s glancing between him and who she’s talking to. And it’s just fucking Ronny. Who cares.
“Can I steal you for a minute? Always wanted to meet a celebrity.” Mickey says with a wink, and she smiles. It’s a pretty smile, almost hesitant like she’s not sure exactly what he’s doing, but also like she’s in on a joke she’s not. He’s into it.
“…A-Actually, we were in the middle of something, Mick–” Ronny stutters out, like Mickey gives a single fuck what he thinks.
“Get the fuck out of here, Ronny.” Mickey replies without so much as looking away from the pretty thing in front of him.
“But–” Ronny tries again, and Mickey’s gotta be losing his touch for a bitch like Ronny to be this bold with him.
“What’d I fucking say?” Mickey asks as his eyes finally flick up to meet Ron’s. Ronny pauses a moment, seemingly trying to gauge whether or not tumbling around with him would be worth it. He makes the right choice, and leaves with a grumble, but his tail effectively between his legs. Good.
“… Well, aren’t you king of the castle.” Her voice comes out in an amused purr, smooth like butter, and when Mickey’s eyes meet hers, her doe eyes are crinkled with her amusement. He grins right back at her, brows bouncing suggestively.
“You bet your cute little ass I am. You know, I’m actually in the market for a queen. You interested?” He asks shamelessly, and she laughs, bright and genuine and free. None of that pretty fake shit.
“You’re pretty smooth, huh?” Her voice is coloured with her laughter as she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, meeting his gaze almost coyly. Jesus. He can only nod.
“I am.” Mickey flicks his tongue over his chapped lips, looking her up and down in a way he knows is not subtle at all. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Kitty.” She says without a moment of hesitation. Mickey doesn’t hesitate either.
“That’s not your name.” He says, simple matter of fact. She smiles, closed lipped and not even secretive. Just amused.
“No, it’s not.”
“Why don’t you give me your real name?” Mickey lowers his voice to be a husky thing, his brows arching at her imploringly. Her smile widens enough to reveal a dimple as she backs away from him, stopping only once her back meets the railing of one of the old sets.
“Oh, honey, you gotta earn that.” She replies playfully as she hoists herself up to sit on the railing. The skirt of her red dress falls perfectly around her thighs. Honestly, Mickey’s still half convinced she’s a mirage.
“Oh, yeah?” He asks as he closes the space between them. He stops only when his torso is pretty much brushing her legs, placing both of his hands on either side of her hips to cage her in like the pretty bird she is. Her eyes twinkle.
“Yeah.” And there’s that look again. Like she’s in on a secret he isn’t. Like she knows something he doesn’t, and it’s the funniest thing he’ll never hear.
“… I’m Mickey.” The words fall out of his mouth without thought. It’s worth it to see her smile grow.
“Like the mouse? Cute.” She utters the words without an inch of teasing, which only encourages Mickey more.
“So you think I’m cute.” He latches onto cockily as his gaze scans her face. She hums as she leans back thoughtfully, dark eyes seeming to examine him in return.
“Maybe.” God, she’s just teasing him now. And the worse part is, it’s working.
“Baby, come on. Why don’t you come home with me? Huh?” The words are jokingly close to begging, and it’s the right move cause she laughs again. But then she simply looks at him again, eyes twinkling and secretive, and fuck. “What do I gotta do to get you to come home with me? Hm? Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”
He doesn’t know if that was the right thing to say at first. Cause suddenly she gets real quiet. Head tilted so her dark hair spills over her bare shoulder, eyes boring so deep into him that he feels almost exposed and… read in a way that he’s not sure he’s comfortable with. And then she’s speaking, and he’s regretting even asking the question. “… Tell me why everybody’s scared of you.”
“What?” Mickey blurts out instinctively as he pulls back, hands leaving the railing to drop to his side as he looks at her. She arches a brow and juts her chin in Todd’s direction of all places.
“Your little friend over there quakes in his boots whenever you so much as open your mouth. Poor Ronny had a full head on you, and yet he went white as a sheet the moment you rolled up. And every else has cleared out too. Right around the time you got up.” She gestures around them with a finger, and Mickey has to follow her gaze. Honestly, over the years he’s gotten so used to it he barely noticed, but she’s right. Everybody’s gone but Todd who’s too stupid to follow. Just waiting for him on those steps like a loyal dog. “And I wanna know why. What’d you do?”
“Nothing.” Another instinctive answer. He feels weirdly cornered, which is ridiculous. This girl is five foot nothing and in a frilly red dress for fuck’s sake. He could tear her in half with his teeth.
“Seems like it.” Her head bobs with her nod, and Mickey looks up at her in disbelief. She noticed all this shit about him, pointed it all out, and yet she still feels like she can talk shit?
“… Fine. I killed a guy or two. Real public.” Mickey admits nonchalantly, even if the words settle like ice in his stomach. But the ice isn’t as cold as it was yesterday. Tomorrow it’ll be warmer still. Eventually he won’t fucking feel it at all. Eventually he’ll just be numb.
“How come?” The question startles him out of his thoughts, making him zero back in on her and blink away his pity party, mostly because to how fucking casual it is. Like he hasn’t just admitted to the worse thing a person could probably ever do. Her big brown eyes are filled with curiosity and a lack of judgement that almost makes her seem innocent in a way he’s pretty sure she definitely isn’t. She is a bandit, right? Todd’s dumb ass didn’t get it wrong?
Mickey stares at her another few moments, waiting for the punchline. There isn’t one.
“I wanted to.” Mickey answers briefly and confidently, somehow hoping that will be the end of the conversation. It’s a lie, but it’s a comfortable one. One he’s told before.
And instead of being running for the fucking hills like a normal person, she nods. Like he told her that it’s gonna rain tomorrow or some shit. “Okay.”
The reaction is too casual. So nonchalant that Mickey feels the need to defend himself, to clarify. “I had to.”
But she just nods again, expression just… accepting in a way that Mickey can’t quite understand. “Okay.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Mickey snaps, and the act of lashing out feels familiar. It feels right. Until her expression shifts into one of confusion, brows furrowing delicately.
“It just means okay, baby.” She replies in turn, and Mickey can feel his anger ballooning in his chest. Can feel it rising up in his throat like bile.
“It’s not fucking okay.” The words are sharper than they have any right to be, acidic and almost growled at her like she’s the one who did something wrong. Like she’s the one at fault here. Any girl in her right mind would be long gone. But her whole face just softens.
“Okay.” She says gently in return, and Mickey’s jaw clenches in reaction. But then she puts her hand on it, flat of her palm cupping the hinge of his jaw like he’s not all sharp edges. Her hand is soft. “Easy now. You wanna talk about it, honey?”
“Talk about what.” He doesn’t know why he hasn’t pulled himself away from her touch yet. Honestly, he doesn’t even know why he’s still here or why he’s still talking. He should leave. “I killed them.”
“… yeah, but about the rest of it.” Her hand drops from his jaw, and something in her face looks almost sad. “About why.”
No one had ever asked him that so… kindly. Without any judgement. Or disgust.
“… I had to. I–” Mickey feels small, and he hates it. He feels like a kid under this weird knowing look she’s giving him, and he hates it. “I fucking had to.”
“… Okay.” She says, and he’d be starting to hate that word if she didn’t say it all soft like she did. Like she understood. “Who was it?”
The words are hard to come out. Mickey isn’t even looking at her. Instead he’s looking at her stupidly high red heels. They’ve got little red puff balls on them. “…My dad. And my uncle.”
And she just hums. Melodic and quiet like she’s encouraging to continue. And for some reason beyond him, Mickey does.
“… I fucking had to. And I tried to explain it to them. To all of them. I wish I could explain but– no one would fucking listen to me anyways. None of them ever even tried.” He’s never said those words out loud before. Not to Todd, who’d be too dumb to understand anyways. Not to his mother. But instead to this random, mirage-like, stranger who steals people’s shit for a living. He doesn’t get it.
“… Sometimes it’s hard for people to see other people as anything more than what they wanna see.” He finally looks up at her then, but she’s not looking at him. Her head is tilted up towards the sky, and she’s looking directly up at the cloudless expanse of it, seemingly immune to the sun’s rays. She’s not even squinting. “It’s almost scary for them, I think. To think that they could empathize with someone who’s done something horrible. They think that makes them horrible too.”
“So what you’re saying is you think I’m horrible?” Mickey’s words come out in what can only be described as a croak.
But she laughs, that same free laugh, and her head finally tilts back down. She looks at him with that secretive smile again, but this time she lets him in on it. “Honey, I’ve got an ex in jail for first degree. I ain’t judging you.”
Mickey doesn’t know why he’s surprised. She’s a bandit after all. After a moment of simply meeting her gaze, he moves to the side of her, leaning his side against the railing as he smoothly asks, “…So what you’re saying is, you’re single?”
She arches her brows at the comment, her red lips forming a small ‘o’ of surprise for a moment before she’s narrowing her eyes playfully at him. “…Oh, you’re good.”
He is. He feels good. Better. He watches her a second as she begins to swing her feet, seemingly content with the bubble of silence between them. “…What did he get put away for?”
“… He was an asshole. You know the type. Real jealous. Real possessive. Think they own you, and anyone who looks at you is entreating on their property. For a long time it was really hot. But one day a guy looked at me, and he went too far. What can you do, you know?” She shrugs, nonchalant, like that’s just life, and maybe it was for her. Mickey doesn’t know. “But he just killed that guy just cause he was mad. Not for any real reason. For a while I fooled myself into thinking it was for love but… that’s not love, y’know? Not really.”
It’s weirdly like she’s far away for a minute. Swinging her feet, and just looking at them like they’ve got the answers. Mickey’s pretty sure they haven’t. He does though. Have an answer for her, the first person who ever really wanted to know. “I did it for my mom.”
She blinks up at him in honest surprise at that. He guesses she wasn’t expecting anything. Mickey can’t blame her, he really wasn’t expecting to say that either.
“… Y’see, that’s love. Noble even.” She says with a slow smile, and it’s the first time someone’s ever said that about anything he’s done ever in his fucking life. That was the kind of word people used for knights and shit. Or real kings. Not assholes from towns like Johnstown. But she seems to think differently because she’s looking at him with this kind of brightness in her eyes. Mickey can’t help but feel like he shouldn’t be allowed to be looked at that way. “You’re a good person, Mickey.”
His eyes feel hot. And his throat feels fucking tight, and he somehow feels like shit but also like… fucking seen. Or whatever. Like for the first time in his life someone is looking at him and seeing more than just what’s on the surface. Like this random thief is peeking into his soul.
He licks his lips again, and waits until the hot feeling in his eyes calms down before he’s breathlessly asking, “… you sure I can’t take you out sometime?”
“Oh, so now it’s gone from a fuck to a whole date? I’m flattered, but… no dice, honey. Nice try though!” She hops off the railing and dusts off the back of her pretty red dress with both hands. Mickey isn’t ashamed to admit he checks out her ass. She might be some weird mythical mirage creature or something, but he’s only a man. She shoots him a wink as she twirls around and moves to leave, eyes still sparkling as she says, “See you around, Mickey.”
The moment she’s moving away it hits him. The moment she’s gone she could be really gone. The one person in this goddamn town who ever let him say what’d been weighing him down forever, what even his own mother wouldn’t hear a word of, could be out of here forever. And he would have missed his fucking chance. It’s on a whim that he moves after her, grabbing her by the hand and swinging her back around like they do in those fucking sappy movies, an arm around her waist as he leans in—
Only to stop at the feeling of something awfully sharp poking into his gut.
She smiles at him, a real pretty but almost sharp thing, as she trails the pocket knife, his pocket knife that he swears to all fuck was in his pocket a second ago, up his t-shirt with almost playful slowness.
“Oh, Mickey.” The knife finally reaches the collar of his shirt, hooks on it briefly before she’s sweetly bringing it to his throat. He swallows hard, and his adam’s apple bobs. “Don’t push it, honey.”
Mickey doesn’t even know what to say. Honestly, he’s trying to figure out if he’s turned on or terrified.
“You know, I’ve been lookin’ for a souvenir.” She says as she examines his knife. It’s nothing special really. He stole it off some other guy, but it’s got some engravings on the metal of the handle. It’s just roses and shit but her eyes seem to light up as she runs her thumb over them. “I think I’ll be taking this.” With that she beams up at him as she closes the knife and tucks it into her bra, like she didn’t just steal from him right in front of his damn face. Mickey thought he would breathe a bit easier now that the knife wasn’t at his throat, but then she’s leaning forward until her lips are brushing his ear. Her hair smells like mango. “And you know what? If you can take it back from me… maybe you’ll earn more than my name.”
She struts off then, walking backwards through the dirt road as he stands there mildly stunned. He can do nothing but watch her walk away until he hears Todd’s stupid heavy breathing getting louder and louder as he jogs over. He’s panting a bit as he finally stops at his side, folded over with his hands on his knees as he catches his breath.
“So… what happened? Were you guys… talking about me? It looked like… you guys.. were talking about me…” Todd asks between his dramatic heaves, but before Mickey can do much more than open his mouth his name is being called from a distance.
“Mickey! Hey Mickey!” She’s got her hands cupped around her mouth, red lips perfectly framed by them. Mickey arches a brow. “You follow me home and I’ll cut your balls clean off, okay? I’ll spayed you like a dog!”
The weird thing is, she’s grinning as she says it. Waving at him wide and grand with her whole arm over her head like this is some big farewell. She blows him a dramatic as hell kiss before she’s turning the corner, but despite all of it, the threat still somehow feels very real. Mickey doesn’t follow her.
He can only blink for another few moments, silent before he turns to his dumb best friend, the only asshole who’s never left him because he’s too stupid to be on his own. He looks at him, and he honestly says, “… Toddy, I think I’m fucking in love.”
Todd blinks at him. Once. Twice. And then he smiles, his big dumb crooked grin. “… Nice.”
your six word story — "you, you deserve to be happy"
she looked sad.
he had seen her around for the past few days, her bright hair hard to miss in a crowd. most people that passed through were the same: outlaws on the run, trying to hide from their problems back home. but she - she was different, that he knew from just looking at her. she didn’t seem like the rest; she wasn’t glad to be here, she wasn’t running. she looked trapped.
even with an underlying aura of sadness that seemed to float around her, he couldn’t help but notice that she was beautiful. yes, she was physically gorgeous but there was something deeper about her, something that shone from within. that was where the real beauty lived within her, that much he knew but just looking at her.
he admired from afar for as long as he could, not wanting to cause the girl any distress, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was something special.
he couldn’t stop himself from approaching her this time, the sadness behind her eyes evident from across the room of the abandoned saloon. he approached cautiously, not wanting to startle her in any way. a crooked smile pulled at his lips as he leaned against the bar beside her, her own soft smile seemingly warming up the damp room.
“well hiya,” her voice rang, laced with friendliness. “what can i do ya for?” she asked with a laugh, her head motioning towards the empty liquor bottles.
a chuckle escaped his own lips, his shoulders lifting in a shrug. he hadn’t expected her to be so welcoming - he hadn’t even said a word and she had already brightened his day. she continued to look at him, brows arched in curiousity as he stood before her.
“sorry,” he started, realizing he had yet to speak, “i’m adam. nice to meet you..” he paused, realizing he didn’t know her name. weird - he felt like he knew her, yet he didn’t even know something as simple as her name.
“willow.” she finished, holding her hand out to shake his. “pleasure’s all mine.” she said, smile stretching across her face.
“you’re with the bandits, huh?” he asked, fingers tapping against the counter. “you guys are sort of famous around here. what’s a girl like you doing caught up with a grimy group like them?”
as soon as the words left his mouth her smile faltered, and there it was - the sadness behind her eyes. he couldn’t help but want to reach out and hold her, tell her everything was going to be alright.
“ah,” he said, slowly lowering himself onto the stool beside her. “not by choice, i’m guessing?” she nodded her head in response, her bright hair falling over her shoulders in loose waves. he bit his bottom lip, wanting to choose his next words wisely.
“look - i know we don’t know each other,” he started, gaze fixated on hers, “and this is going to sound really, really weird but i can’t shake the feeling that you deserve much more than this.” his arms motioned around them. “i can tell you’re a good person. i know that sounds weird, but i just know.”
her eyes searched his face for a moment, eyes glazed over with what he assumed were tears she wasn’t letting fall. “you don’t know a thing about me.” she said quietly, almost under her breath.
“you’re right.” he started, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. “but i do know one thing. you, you deserve to be happy. i don’t know how i know it, but i do. and i just wanted to tell you that.”
before she could say anything else he was out of his seat and through the door, leaving her there with her mouth slightly open, a single tear falling down her cheek.
your six word story — "you remind me of someone good"
local’s name: naomi
fc: odeya rush
there is a broken watch on the constructed nightstand beside her. it is stuck at 1:03 am and this strikes the brunette as strange cause the blood in her veins seem to pump to her extremities faster than ever with no evidence of stopping.
naomi can still make the shape of the male’s silhouette in the darkness of the room. his chest is bare, branded with wet kisses that would soon enough evaporate in the morning as she was sure that adrian would never spare another glance in her direction. what began as a magnetic encounter soon flourished into a ravenous adventure of tearing each other’s clothing as the two lost themselves in the spur of the moment in an attempt to forget what plagued their lives. the stranger is still unsure what trauma in the male’s life had cut his edges rough, but a part of her also saw through the facade that he was still attempting to write as he laid next to her in the disheveled sheets of the bed.
he’s been quiet for several moments, eyes peeled to the ceiling of the bedroom as his bare chest continued to work to level his breathing. perhaps, he was finally at peace. all the weight of the world that he carried on his shoulders was finally crashing, threatening to pull him under the surface of the water but naomi can see it. - adrian is trying so hard to find a reason to move forward. he’s just not found his purpose yet.
she’s heard stories about the adventures of the bandits. five individuals with five different intentions but one goal. she’s also seen the girl that was strung along in their mischief - collateral of an unfair life that each bandit had before their mission but nevertheless, a part of the team too. but she’s never seen the lives that they lived outside of the eyes of the public or the words of the hidden crowd here. instead of the ruthless leader with a tendency to be impulsive, adrian seemed to be a body that sought to protect anything that he was capable to care for.
“you remind me of someone good-” she says without much thought, now resting her weight on her right forearm as she props herself up to get a better look at adrian. even the slight stubble on his cheeks reminds noami of her deceased brother- an individual that was filled more knowledge than he could probably handle, but had the ability to be incandescent no matter the amount of shit life threw at him. there is evidence of loss in adrian’s eyes as he looks at her now, lips pursed as he tried to find the appropriate response but she beats him to it. “if you have been given a different life, you’d probably be in bed with the love of your life- the dark creases under your eyes only a possibility in your dreams -” she continued to list different fantasies for the male, things that she wished she had the ability to give. whoever it is- damn, they will be special.
a manicured digit slides against the roughness of the male’s shoulder, the dewiness of sweat still glistening adrian’s forehead as she continues to speak. “i think you’re still a good person,” it’s a rather bold statement, especially when his covered face has been plastered on several televisions and police stations across the nation. but the way that adrian had noticed her- someone that is usually invisible- noami knows that he’s got a natural talent for bringing the best out of people but there’s a fear that is still holding him back. “i don’t know what ghosts you have, but fuck- i hope they stop haunting you. cause when this is all over, you’ll have no one else to protect but yourself.”
Piper! Your job is to mingle with the fast food workers at rest stop 88, and see if any particularly friendly workers will give you a key to any of the building’s back doors. Bored Macon restaurant employees have been itching for someone interesting to pass through, so make sure to give ‘em a show!
Piper can feel the heat of every eye in the rest stop on her as she makes her way through her ice cream. It’s a powerful feeling honestly. All she’s doing is sitting here, wrapping her lips around a spoon and yet none of them can take their eyes off of her.
Well. Maybe the dress has something to do with it, but Piper will maintain that it’s mostly her doing.
Some may say that walking into the rest stop in a very cute thrifted wedding dress was overkill, but to that Piper would say that she had this very cute thrifted wedding dress and she was going to find an opportunity to wear it if it fucking killed her. Besides, go big or go home right?
Piper makes sure to sniffle pathetically as she shovels another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, swallowing down the icy treat with a stifled sob that she knows from experience sounds genuine. She can see the fast food workers buzzing behind the counter they’re meant to be working at, all crowding together and whispering as they try to pretend they aren’t sneaking glances at her when they think she isn’t looking. But she can see them in the reflection of the window she’s facing, clear as day, watching her like she’s some sort of cheap show.
Piper isn’t particularly offended. Honestly, she kind of is (a cheap show that is).
Piper lets out a shuddering sigh as she looks out the window dramatically, tears falling down her cheeks leaving behind black smudges of mascara. She dips her spoon into the little plastic cup again, only to blink when she discovers the cup is empty.
Right on cue Piper starts full on sobbing.
Even through her wet eyes Piper can tell feel the atmosphere in the room shift from mild curiosity to full on panic. Customers sneak peeks at her. The employees seemingly try to decide who’s job it’s going to be to approach her. Piper hiccups particularly pathetically as she swipes at her wet eyes, checking the reflection subtly and-- oh, there you go.
One of the employees is breaking away from the pack to approach her.
Aw, he looks sweet. Kind of on the skinny side, and definitely a bit young. Even through his blatant panic, he’s got a certain softness in his eyes that she can work with.
This’ll be a breeze.
“Um, Miss?” His hand hovers over her shoulder hesitantly, and Piper makes a point to startle like a frightened baby deer. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just… wondering if you were okay?”
“Oh.” Piper blinks at the guy, eyes big and wet and innocent for a moment before she looks around the restaurant as if just seeing the havoc she’s caused for the first time. Her face contorts in horror. “Oh! I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t mean to cause trouble for you, I am so sorry, I’ll leave--!”
The moment Piper moves to collect her ‘things’, which honestly is just here measly little plastic ice cream cup, he jumps into action.
“No, no, it’s okay!” His hands flail around as he quickly moves into the seat beside her, obviously trying to calm her down. Piper stills long enough for him to think that it worked. “I-- I’m Kit. What’s your name?”
Kit. Aw.
“... Lola.” Piper replies hesitantly, and Kit gives her this big encouraging smile. It’s a bit patronizing honestly, but genuine so… She’ll give him a pass.
“Hi, Lola. Rough day, huh?” Kit tries gently, and okay pass revoked because no shit, Kit.
“A-a bit…” Piper replies as she stabs her spoon weakly into her empty cup, unshed tears building up in her eyes until she finally releases another wet hiccup.
“You wanna tell me about it? I’m a pretty good listener…” Kit tries gently, and he actually sounds sincere about it.
Piper takes that sincerity as a good sign that Kit will believe pretty much anything. Soft people are gullible, after all. She should know, she is one.
Her lips pulling into a weak smile for a moment before she hesitantly says, “... Okay.”
♡ ♡ ♡
“He cheated on you with your best friend? The maid of honour?” Laura (at least, Piper thinks her name is Laura) repeats in disbelief. Piper bobs her head in a nod as she sucks the last of the ice cream off her spoon, watching the crowd around her at the fast foot counter look at her in varying expressions of awe and horror. She’s sat on the counter like it’s a pedestal, a full head above them all so they all have a good view of her telling the story. The transition from her lonely table to here wasn’t nearly as hard as you’d think. Bored nosy people really don’t tend to question a lot when it comes to a free show.
“Can you believe it?” Piper asks almost shrilly as she gestures wildly with her spoon. Certain members of her newfound audience shake their heads in answer, and Piper can feel a curl of satisfaction in her stomach. She’s got ‘em hooked. “He didn’t even tell me about it! I had to catch the two of them together in the confessional booth!”
There’s a string of gasps throughout the employees. The rest stop is pretty much empty by now. It’s just her, Kit, and the members of staff that have circled her in search of entertainment Piper is happy to bring.
“God, Lola, that’s horrible.” Kit says gently, and it’s actually kinda heartfelt. Piper honestly hopes he at least has a foot fetish or something. She really needs something to hate about him.
“I know. I lost two...two of the most important people in my life today, and everybody at the wedding knows, and I was just so embarrassed. I had nowhere else to go, so I just… kept driving until I found myself here. And I saw you guys sold sundaes so…” Piper looks down at her three empty sundae cups by her side pointedly, before a heavy calloused hand lands on her knee. She blinks up at the owner of the hand in surprise, only to be greeted by a lot of tall, a lot of blond, and a lot of muscle. She’s pretty sure this guy is the fry cook judging by his apron. Will definitely probably have a key to the back.
“You can have as many sundaes as you want, darlin’. On the house.” He says gently, but his smile is a lot less pleasant than Kit’s. The kind of smile a lion would give a gazelle just before it pounced on it.
“Thank you…” Piper trails off pointedly, and his shark like grin just widens.
“Lance.” He introduces cockily, and Piper has to wonder if that’s a name to be that proud of.
“Thank you, Lance.” Piper repeats again, lips pulling into a sugary smile as she slides her hand over the one he still has on her knee. “You’re so sweet.”
Lance’s ego seems to inflate like a balloon at that. Good to know. He’s probably her best bet.
It’s probably time to change gears.
“You wanna know what the worst part is?” Piper turns to the gaggle of girls on her other side at this, meeting all of their gazes with her own pitiful one.
“There’s a worse part?” A redhead --Cindy, she thinks-- blurts out in surprise, and the brunette beside her elbows her in the side.
“What’s the worst part, Lola?” The brunette asks hungrily, and Piper knows it’s a lot less that she actually cares and a lot more than she’s living for the trainwreck Piper is presenting her life to be. Oh, if only she knew.
“We’d been dating since high school and I… I was saving myself for him.” Piper lets go of Lance’s hand to tuck her hair shyly behind her ears. “And I thought he was saving himself for me, but based on all that skin I saw in that booth... he obviously wasn’t.” Piper looks at the girls hopelessly, watching as they all melt in the kind of sympathy that only comes from a similar experience. “Oh, I feel so silly. I just… I just missed out on all that stuff for nothin’.”
“Aw, sweetie.” Laura reaches a hand out and pats her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze with a blunt, “Men are trash.”
“They really are.” The brunette agrees solemnly.
“Uh-huh.” Cindy seconds gently after her, and honestly? They’re not wrong.
“Well, now that the two of you aren’t together, you can try all of that stuff you missed out on.” The girls all blink at the interjection, turning to Lance as Piper does. He’s stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, gaze roaming over Piper as he shrugs unapologetically. “I’m just sayin’.”
“Lance! Stop hitting on the girl, she just ran away from the alter this morning!” The brunette snaps as she slaps Lance’s thick shoulder. Lance only arches his brow at the girl in return.
“Yeah, that means she’s single, Rita.” Lance says. He meets Piper’s gaze in a long drawn out way he probably thinks is real sexy. It isn’t. “She can act like it.”
Well. An opening is an opening right?
♡ ♡ ♡
God, he tastes like burgers.
Kinda gross but also kinda brings her back to high school.
Piper pulls back from the kiss with a perfectly practiced girlish gasp, straightening up enough to feel the steering wheel of Lance’s old dodge press into the small of her back. His chapped lips travel down the column of her neck, and his hands wander dangerously high underneath her white skirt, but well.
This is all about as sexy as a wet paper towel if she’s honest. He’s got big meaty hands but no idea what to do with them.
His fingers edge dangerously close to her underwear and Piper rolls her eyes at the ceiling of the car.
“Hey, hey, wait--” Piper says as she grabs his face, trying to drag him away from slobbering all over her neck long enough to meet his gaze. But Lance’s head is apparently as thick as it looks, because her words fall on deaf ears, the hand under her skirt hooking in the side of her underwear and tugging. “Hey--” Piper’s breath hitches a moment as Lance continues to do no such thing before she’s fisting a hand in Lance’s thick hair and sharply tugging his head back with a firm jerk, voice like honey on the edge of a knife as she snaps, “I said wait.”
Lance blinks up at her in blatant shock, but Piper merely gives him a demure smile in return. Her gaze falls to her hand as she walks her fingers daintily up his shoulder and says, “Not here.” Piper pouts and juts her head towards the pitstop window, noticing about five different people suddenly busying themselves with menial things at the attention. “Everybody can see.”
“So?” Lance asks as he slowly relaxes with a big toothy dumb smile, and god. She can’t wait to see someone shove a gun in his face.
“So...” Piper replies slowly as she leans in to whisper in Lance’s ear, fingers loosening their hold in his thick hair as she says, “I think we should take this somewhere more private.” Piper pulls away just enough that she’s nose to nose with him, batting her eyelashes prettily. “How about… I get out of here, get myself lookin’ all pretty for you and meet you back here later? You’re closing right?”
“Yeah,” Lance grunts as he slides a hand up and over the swell of her ass. Piper pretty vividly imagines breaking one of his meaty, grubby, greedy little fingers and smiles.
“Well... I’ve never had sex before, and I’m willing to bet that you’ve never had sex in an empty rest stop before,” Piper smiles almost shyly as she pulls back to sit back on his lap, eyes twinkling. “It’ll be a first for both of us.”
“Holy shit,” Lance breathes, giving her ass a squeeze presumably for emphasis. “You’re pretty dirty for a church girl.”
Piper ducks her head bashfully and she giggles like she imagines Lola would giggle. Soft, shy and innocent. She looks back up at Lance through her lashes and decides to finally get this over with. She chews on her lip a moment before smiling around the meat of it and hesitantly asking, “...Speaking of… you think you can get me a key to the backdoor, stud?”
Lance’s thick caterpillar brows almost look like they’re crawling towards each other as they knit together. “What? Why?”
“Well, let’s just say I’m not exactly planning on wearing anything suitable for any eyes but yours tonight, and I’ll need a way to get in…” Piper purrs seductively, and she can pretty much see the moment Lance puts two and two together, the moment that key is as good as hers. Her shy smile becomes a full on grin. “So? Is that a yes?”
honey! your job is to stalk the outer perimeter of rest stop 88, and find the patrol cop known to be lurking around. see what information you can pull from him, and whether the guy ever takes a damn break. i hear he’s friendly… and particularly lonely!
the rain came down fast & hard. it had turned the dirt roads that wrapped around the back of the rest stop into rivers of muck, and honey’s sneakers ( which had been white once upon a time but had now taken on a rather unappetizing shade of brown ) made sucking noises every time she pulled them out. silently, she cursed their leader for giving her the one task that had to take place outside. honey thought of piper, sitting snugly inside the rest stop, and of logan, who was one long drive away from having his ass fuse to the driver’s seat.
suffice to say, she was feeling terribly sorry for herself.
it had been a good 20 minutes already, and still there was no sign of the supposed patrol car. her hair has lost its appealing shine and had turned into a wet mop that stuck to the sides of her face. her clothes were drenched. a thunderclap echoed through the sky. she shivered. somehow, honey had imagined the criminal lifestyle to be a bit more glamorous than this.
fuck this.
she wondered if she would get in trouble if she went back without having found the patrol car. probably not. she could just lie & say he refused to say anything. there was no way they’d doubt her. still, a twinge of guilt stirred in her gut at the thought.
another corner rounded and she found herself back on the main road. honey sent a silent thank you up to the heavens for the paved road she now found under her feet. she wiped the rain out of her eyes and looked around. holy fuck. there, pulled over on the side of the road, was a patrol car. bingo.
tick. tick. tick.
honey’s fingernail tapped against the car window. she caught a glimpse of her reflection- the soaking hair, the ruined makeup trailing down her face. she looked positively terrible. this might actually work.
the window bzzzzzz’d down, and revealed a young, scrawny looking kid in a police uniform. he looked to be around honey’s age-certainly too young to be patrolling at by himself. his round wire-rimmed glasses stood crooked on his nose, red hair tousled from a recent run-in with the abysmal weather.
“can i help you, ma’am ?” he had the kind of southern drawl you read about in books- thick & rich & charming. honey smiled; she had quite the sweet spot for country boys.
“i’m terribly sorry to bother you, sir, but i seem to have gotten quite lost and the weather-” another thunderclap. honeys drenched frame cringed to underline the severity of the situation. “the weather is getting worse by the minute, you see. so i was wondering, officer- ” she leaned through the window frame, squinting at the cop’s nametag. “-jackson. officer jackson, if you could give a girl a ride ?”
a bat of her lashes, a twirl of her hair.
officer jackson smiled at her. “of course, ma’am.”
before he could change his mind, honey had crossed to the passenger side door and gotten it. her shoes made muddy footprints on the floormats. she hoped he wouldn’t mind. “i’m jackie, by the way. you’re an angel !” at that last part she’d placed a hand on his arm. she could feel his sleeve dampening where she touched it.
“where are we going, jackie ?” he was gripping the steering wheel a little bit tighter than before.
“i’m in the motel a few miles from here, officer. i-”
“you can call me tom, if you want.” he was sticking the key into the ignition, smiling nervously up at her. tom reminded her a bit of a puppydog. she hoped he’d stay far away from rest stop 88 on friday.
***
conversation with tom was proving to be a bit of a challenge. the kid was so tightly wound he flushed at every move & every flirty remark honey made. he talked a lot, but nothing that came out of his mouth was of interest to honey. she had fired question after question at him, and yet she wasn’t getting anywhere. yes, he was from around here. no, he didn’t have a partner. ( this question had led to a rather hopeful rant on budget cuts and squad overhauls, but nothing else came from it. ) no, he didn’t work every day of the week: he had mondays off, on which he visited his mother. did that mean nobody was looking out for the people of macon, georgia on mondays ? jackie thought that sounded quite dangerous. tom had quickly reassured her- on mondays his shift was covered by robert, who – according to tom – was a creepy dude, but jackie had to promise she’d keep that to herself.
after another couple minutes of excruciating silence, the motel was now coming dangerously close & honey wasn’t any closer to finding out anything of importance. so honey shot her shot. tom was turning bright red.
“do i have a girlfriend ?” he stared at her in abject horror.
“or a boyfriend- i don’t judge.” honey flashed him her pearly whites.
“n-no, i don’t.” his face now matched his hair in terms of redness.
“well then, tom,” honey placed a hand on his knee. he looked like he was going to pass out. “would you like to grab a coffee with me ?”
he’d pulled into the motel parking lot. it was now or never.
“y-yea, i mean-“
“perfect ! how does friday sound ? what time do you get off?’
tom got off at 6. honey grimaced.
“that’s no good. how about a break ? do cops take breaks ?”
turned out, they did. tom stopped for a latte and a jelly donut at the lava java coffee shop in downtown macon every day between 3 and 4 pm.
“then i will see you,” honey prodded her finger into his chest. “on friday.”
she opened the car door to get out, but hesitated. she turned back around to plant a kiss on his cheek. he was cute; nobody had to know. then she jumped out of the car and disappeared into the motel.
