Heeppy Hoolida

heeppy hoolida

I hate you

Fanfic based on Our Life: Beginnings and Always, Baxter DLC

1999 words

Tw for drinking cursing and it is slightly suggestive towards the end

A drunken confession fic

Fueled with hate and alcohol, you arrive at Baxter's place. And everything he does pushes you towards the truth.

Stumbling through the hall you found the apartment you were looking for. With both hands, you steady yourself. You fake a stance you believe shines " totally sober" before you knock on the door.

It doesn't take too long before Baxter opens the door, he's wearing a silky white and black pajama set that fits him so well you assume it has been tailored. You focus on his body, and the set does a phenomenal job highlighting his physical assets. His slender waist flows perfectly to his lean chest which leads to his beautiful shoulders. That's when you see his face. Watching as it shifts from a confused look to a smug smirk.

"And may I ask why you are here?"

You answer quickly.

Or at least you believe you did. In reality, you gawked a little longer before slowly pushing yourself inside, while saying.

"You owe me a drink."

Baxter stepped aside to allow you in and closed the door. He didn't miss your unsteady steps or the smell of alcohol on you.

"Is that so"

You take a seat at the inland. Baxter makes his way around to be across from you, standing. You avoid eye contact as you confidently reply.

"Yep."

He chuckles a little, it fills your ears and then your heart. You know it's fondness but you must hate him. So you pretend the love in your heart is rage. Scoffing and keeping your eyes focused on something else.

" Why is that?"

You think or try to. Your brain is slowed by the alcohol, and baxters arms. He was resting them on the countertop, his hands as beautiful as you remembered and his forearms just slightly buff, you wondered what it felt like, to squeeze,  to be squeezed by them. How it would feel to be held both softly and roughly by them. Your thoughts are interrupted by Baxter answering his own question after he figured you weren't going to answer.

" Would it be because the bar you were at may have cut you off?"

In disbelief of the correct accusation, you make eye contact with him. Loudly claiming he's wrong.

" Then I must assume you're here because you wanted to see me."

Your breathing halts a little, those brown. eyes captivate you, there's so much hope behind them. You could almost fall for it. But the color was still all so familiar. It was still Baxter. The man who, with his brown eyes, stared into your soul and tore your heart apart. 

You want to start yelling at him, force him to apologize, to cry, even to deny the truth. You just wanted a reaction. 

Instead, you sit as he fills a glass of water and sets it in front of you. 

Not right in front of you. 

It's like he's trying to avoid offending you.

Or avoiding getting too close.

But you can't tell which because of your dissociated state, and because he's always been quite good at hiding how he feels.

A small bubble of anger filled in your stomach but you held it down. 

You would not embarrass yourself more.

So you reached for the glass.

You failed to take a sip, spilling a decent amount on yourself.

When you looked up for help.

Baxter was on his phone.

Paying you no attention.

Even when he talked to you, he just stared at his phone.

“ Is there someone I should call for you, or I guess you have a list I could call, so it's more about your preference.”

And for some reason, that's what caused your anger to burst.

Cause why would you show up at his door if you wanted someone else to take care of you.

You wanted him.

Even if you couldn't admit it.

Abruptly you stood up, hands gripping the counter.

" I hate you! You know that! You have to know that! Even if you’re beautiful and handsome, it doesn't change how much I hate you. I can't stand to look at you and your big stupid chocolate eyes. It's nauseating. Why did you have to become even hotter? I hate it. It was easy to hate you when I couldn't see you but now you're right in front of me, showing off your amazing body and perfect arms. And I hate you and I hate how much I want to kiss you and you hate that I'm here and that you don't care!"

You breathe heavily after your confession. Your energy suddenly plummeting. Your eyes release tears as you can't hold them back anymore. 

Your tears blur your vision, but you feel a gentle, hesitant pair of hands on your arms. You let them guide you to the living room and seat you down.

" I do care."

It wasn't defensive like you were half expected.

To him, it was just a fact. 

" I care for so many reasons. I care because you're drunk and it worries me. I care because you're upset and I don't know what to do. I care because I'm the reason you're upset. I care because I'm only making it worse. I care because I never stopped. "

He was sitting next to you, but allowed distance, yet your hands found each other.

"Seeing you at the restaurant was my worst nightmare and my dream came true."

He was hesitant but after a few deep breaths, Baxter mustered all his confidence. He moved from off the couch to kneeling in front of you. He took both your hands.

" I hate myself. I can't say for sure I hate myself more than you hate me.  Though I know I've regretted that night, more than I can ever put into words. So just…"

He leaned in, the smell of his cologne was faint but it was all you could focus on. But then your hand was sandwiched between Baxter's chest and hands. His pulse could be felt from both.

His heart raced.

And without words, you could feel it. 

The love.

The hurt.

The pain. 

The regret.

The begging. 

It was all on the table.

His heart was in your hand.

He was once in this position. 

Years ago, when you begged him to try.

That's all you wanted was to know you were worth fighting for.

When your heart was in his, he crushed it to dust.

And now that you had the opportunity to do the same.

You couldn't.

Part of you screamed at yourself when you pulled him in. When you held him, held him to heal him, held him like he was yours.

But a much larger part of yourself felt complete. 

And relief.

So much relief you cried and giggled in this tender hug.

It confused Baxter as he pulled out of the hug.

But not away.

He adjusted, his hand holding your face.

“ Are you- what's going on?”

His eyes are so big and sad, concerned.

At least till he caught your eyes, though blurred with tears he could tell you were  full of glee

Soon his face lit up the same, the sad look turned to a smile, which turned to a laugh.

A laugh you found to be your favorite sound.

And every negative thought you had about this man floated away.

When the laughing stopped, he looked into your eyes. 

His eyes filled with sparkle once again.

“I never stopped loving you. I locked it all away, locked you out. I thought it was the safest option. Maybe it was. I thought I was protecting both of us from disaster. Maybe it will be a disaster But these past years, without you. Being without isn't worth it. I want to be with you, to try. Even if it ends in us hating each other, let's love each other for as long as we can?”

A full smile was locked on his face, but you could still see his anxiety in his body language.

You leaned toward him, initiating the kiss.

Your hands find his shirt, pulling him closer.

He laughs into the kiss before moving his hand down to your neck.

He bites at your lip before keeping the kiss.

He's practically on top of you. 

His knee between your legs, your neck craned up for the kiss.

His hands mirror each other as they caress your skin from your neck, down your shoulders and arms.

When he gets to your hands he takes hold of them, backing up and lifting you off the couch so you are both standing.

You push further into the kiss, but he pulls away.

A small bubble of fear builds in you.

“Before you get the wrong idea, dear, I'm stopping because I don't want our first time to be while you're not completely in control.”

One of his hands moves from your hand to your face, gently holding it as his thumb softly grazes your skin.

“I'm just kissing you, you perv.”

You joke before moving in for another kiss.

He kisses you back before pushing you away. 

“ It is just kissing, but I'd like to remain a gentleman but your tongue in my mouth is infecting my mind, coercing me further.”

You reach for his shirt again, wanting to pull him in again.

Before you can accomplish your goal he spins you around. And wraps his arms around you. 

He leans into the crook of your neck and whispers.

“ I want the time we spend together,  on my bed, against a wall, in the shower, over the counter or anywhere else you'd allow me to devour you. I've dreamed of nights where I would have you, where you'd have me, the years of temptation have my restrictions thin. What keeps me, and my hand away from your body, away from bringing you all the pleasure you deserve, to prove that forgiving me was worth it. What keeps me away is knowing your mind is intoxicated by alcohol, I want to be the only thing intoxicating you.”

Your breathing becomes labored as you take in everything this man is saying. You can't help but agree with him. As much as your body craves him now, your mind pleads for the day Baxter takes you with passion, and you want to be able to recall that moment.

“Take me to bed, Baxter.”

His arms relax from your body, his hand finding your arms, sweetly caressing them

“Of course my love”

Maybe you imagined those words but if you didn't you prayed to hear him say it again, and if he never did, you hoped you'd be able to remember the way those words sounded in his voice.

He took your hand and led you to his room. He treated you like royalty as he ensured you were comfortable, as he tucked you in.

“Would you like me to join you?”

You blushed at the respectful question. You knew if you told him no he'd listen with a smile. 

“Please”

He was so pretty when pleased, but before he climbed in he spoke again.

“Could I -”

His face flushed slightly as he cleared his throat.

“My Apologies. How would you feel about me holding you .”

You thought it was cute how nervous he was to ask about something far less scandalous than what he was telling you mere minutes ago. You know to him these sweet innocent moments were harder for him.

“No need for the apologies Baxter, get in and cuddle me.”

He let out a short laugh, it seemed to be so easy for him, and that's what he wanted. 

So he did as you said. Climbing in, nervously finding a comfortable way to hold you. Settling on the classic spoon, his hand laying over your waist. There was an awkward gap between your bodies, so you took the liberty of closing it. He stiffened a bit but soon he was able to relax into you. After years of regret, hate, and yearning the two of you found what you wanted, falling asleep peacefully in each other's arms.

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed please comment or reblog and check out my other work

( If i missed a TW or spelling mistake please let me know )

The Kings Blood

Chapter one of my Royal Vampiric Redacted AU

I posted " The King Precious" a small piece of this story, this is the beginning of the story. You don't need to read "The King Precious" for this story to make sense but if you'd like to it is linked

This story is about the servants so there are uncomfortable bits of unconceual stuff, I will label the chapters as specifically as I can.

Words: 1.5 k

Characters: William, Quinn, Tank, Vincent, Sam, Porter and Treasure

Tw: Servitude, mention of character death ( non-descriptive), vague threats, Quinn, Unconsensual smelling ( vampires smelling human blood), nonconsensual control ( pushing and pulling a person around) Vampires speaking down about the human race ( sees them as meat and servants.)

They were gathered at the entrance chattering among themselves

The king didn't leave often and when he did he made it a point to update his people on his journey 

Except for this time

Which put everyone on edge

They were all ready for answers from their king

The chattering halted when the grand doors opened 

Revealing a vampire that no one could name

The people began to talk again

Watching and judging the man as he just stood there

The sound of heavy metal hitting the floor rang through the castle 

King William's cane rolled across the floor

The room filled with fearful silence

The man who through the cane spoke

“Perfect.”

Everyone was confused, but too afraid to talk or look away

“ Servants of Dahlia castle. I, Quinn Fox, have killed your king.”

The people stayed quiet but a chill ran through everyone

“ Compared to King William's power, you servants are nothing so I exp-

“ Residents.”

Vincent, the adopted prince of Dahlia, steps out from the crowd.

He moves without fear approaching the vampire

“ They are not servants.”

Vincent is too distracted by his rage to notice the vampire wave for protection, but the crowd stays silent.

Vincent steps closer

“They are the residents of King William.”

Before he can take another step, a knight blocks his way, a sword dangerously close to his chest.

The sword isn't what stops Vincent.

It is the face of the knight

“ Good Porter. Let's be a little faster next time.”

Porter moves forward forcing Vincent back into the crowd.

“ Like I said William is dead, making him no longer king. So I will call my servants what I want.”

“YOUR SERV-”

Porter's sword moves closer, shutting Vincent up

“ I dearly hope the rest of you aren't this idiotic. Yes, MY servants. I killed your king and have come here for the throne. So make way.”

Porter releases his sword and makes his way towards the throne

A few people whisper ‘traitor’ as he makes his way through

He ignores them

Many people notice a frail-looking person following behind their new ruler.

The person is shackled, bites liter their body, and their head stays pointed to the ground.

The people know what this is, it wasn't uncommon for powerful vampires to keep specific humans as constant food.

It made the people uncomfortable because they realized that could be their future

King William was described as strange by many powerful vampires, because of the way he treated humans.

Most vampires saw them as cattle, servants they could feed off and sell.

William saw something else. 

He treated the act of feeding as a trade, humans sacrifice their blood and in return, they would be given extra rest from their other duties, or if they preferred extra resources.

The people began to realize that their luck had run out.

William's killer took a seat on the throne.

He was pleased, his arrogance was palpable

As Quinn sat in the throne his eye scanned through the crowd.

Everyone saw as his pupils blew open and his eyes landed on someone.

“Delicious.”

His grin grew, as the person he spotted looked into his eyes

“Porter, retrieve that one for me.”

Porter took a step before stopping as the person stepped forward their self

“I do not need to be assisted.”

The person boldly strutted up to the throne

Stopping a mear foot away from the new king

“ What is it you want from me.”

Quinn laughed

“ You are quite bold for a human.”

He waited for a reaction from the human, disappointed to only receive an emotionless glare

“Tell me precious, what's your family name?”

“ Why does it matter?”

The room got tenser every time they spoke

“Testing a theory.”

“ I never knew my family.”

“Ohh how sad. Now I'll never know for sure.”

“Know what?”

He ignored their question

“Anyone ever tell you how amazing you smell?”

In retaliation to his avoidance, they stayed quiet.

“Well, you smell divine. Quite literally in fact. You see, some families have blood that is more enticing to certain vampire clans. Cost us vampires a pretty penny. And your blood, my precious.”

He takes their hand, pressing his nose into it as he breathes in the scent of their blood.

“ Was made for me.”

He looks at them, his eyes have turned red. 

He watches as the human still doesn't react.

“ You don't believe me?”

The human doesn't reply

He is starting to like this challenge

“I shall prove it.”

He stands up from the throne

He makes his way to the edge of the crowd.

Investigating the servants closer than before.

When catches a hint of what he is looking for he motions his hands

The people move out of his way. 

He smiles when he locks eyes with the vamp.

He motions for the vampire servants to approach. 

He obeys

“You are a vampire, correct?”

The man replies call a steady.

“Not compared to you sir, but yes.”

“Oh, I can tell.”

The king scuffed at the lower vampire 

“Come”

The two make it out of the crowd and back to the throne, where the person remained

The king took rest in his throne, before instructing the other vampire.

“ Smell their blood, and describe it to me.”

The two servants faced each other.

The vampire's jaw tightened as he looked at his close friend

He hadn't done anything yet but his eyes could only be described as apologetic

“ Word of advice for the future, I am not a patient king, nor am I merciful. So, smell them.”

Sam peered through the corner of his eyes at his new supposed king.

He knew this man was dangerous

He peered back at Vincent

The only one in the castle who understood the torment this brought Sam.

Sam respected and cared for this person too much to act without permission.

This isn't how he wanted this to go.

Not to mention that he didn't need to get close to describe their scent

He knew it better than he knew his family

It was best to keep that hidden from the king

To Sam, the best choice was to defy the king.

He was ready for the punishment.

Vincent could tell exactly what he was thinking

He cursed him silently, feeling powerless

Then they lifted their hand

Sams's eyes widened

This situation was unique

But he never expected them to play this man's game.

Sam looked into their eyes.

He had never seen that look in their eyes

A little watery

So bright

With fear

With need

Their eyes were the definition of pleading

And he couldn't deny them

So as gently as he could, his hand met theirs

Taking the weight for himself

He stepped closer

He looked into their eyes again

His eyes red

Yet still full of apologies

He held this eye contact as he leaned down to their wrist

Their pulse was strong, almost racing

He noted it as fear as he took a moment to smell for their blood

Instinctively closing his eyes as he took it in

Fresh rain

Pine trees

The smell of a forest path on a dewy morning

The smell makes Sam dream of the world outside of this castle

Outside in the free, empty land that he used to call home.

He rises away from their hand, softly dropping it back to them

His eyes still closed as he takes a deep breath, cleansing his senses.

He opens his eyes

They've returned to dark silver

He gives them a comforting smile before turning to Quinn

“They smell of pine, sir.”

Quinn's smile grows

“ And what do most of the humans you feed off smell like?”

He is taken aback

“I don't feed often sir”

Quinn rolls his eyes

“Well of course, not with your weak blood. Still, answer my question."

Sam felt humiliated in front of his human friends. 

Though he answered

“Meat sir.”

“Exactly, you can return to the crowd.”

Sam wants to risk a look at them but he's smarter than that. 

He returns the crowd

Once he is there and Quinn knows everyone is watching he grabs the servant

The smallest gasp escapes their mouth as he pulls them closer to him by their wrist

They land on his lap

“ You see precious. Most humans smell like meat, then there's some that smell of fruit, those aren't too rare to find, just rare to find unclaimed. Now you…”

He takes a sniff from their collarbone to their ear

“ You smell like a forest. Seems unappetizing to now vampires but it's a true treat. You were made for vampires. Your family is a line of breed humans the vampire desired. Unfortunately, they weren't pleased with that life and many did everything they could to escape, even ending their own lives…but you are here, by some miracle, just for me.”

No one could see

Even if they could they were too busy watching the king

But sams mouth was filling with his blood

His fingernails made gashes in his hand

Holding himself back

Refusing to make this worse 

Vincent noticed as his friend blew hot air from his nose

He was ready to step in himself to stop this from going any further

But someone else had the same idea.

“Sir, are you ready to be shown the rest of the castle?”

Porter announced 

Quinn's eyes brightened ready for more royal pleasures

“Of course.”

THANKS FOR READING!!!!

Tell me if you see a grammatical mistake or if I missed a trigger warning

(Secret tip if you want more of this story then leave a like or reblog, it's my biggest motivator.)

If you want to see more of my work here is my masterlist

Did he just appear in my apartment and kill a man? Yes, BUT, he's been reading things about humans and learning to make food to understand me better, so it's okay 😊

oh god i’d heard about the “i won’t commission artists who undercharge for their art” post and now it’s making its rounds on my dash.

please understand that this concept does not actually help anyone. the sensible thing to do if an artist is undercharging is to tip them for what you think their work it worth, and be sure to let them know that. even if this doesn’t cause them to actually change their base prices, at least YOU’RE paying for what it’s worth, and THEY’RE getting business instead of nothing.

by essentially boycotting artists who are already unsure of the value of their own work (and are thus underpricing) you’re not sending any positive message. no one is going to up their commission prices when nobody is buying them. the only thing the artist gets out of it is that people don’t want to buy their art for some reason, and people who’s products aren’t selling aren’t going to say “oh i guess it was because i wasn’t charging enough, i’ll pump up the prices!”

if you want to support a commission artist, please do it by actually SUPPORTING THEM WITH COMMISSIONS rather than by choosing to take your business elsewhere because their prices were too low.

Scraps to a Tank

Ive been working on this AU for a while. I'm very excited to finally post the first chapter. I'd love feed back from anyone, about anything. This is one of my favorite things I've come up with/written, and want to know how I can improve.

I am tagging some of my favorite redacted asmr writers/Tumblr pages because I'd love to have some feedback (if comfortable and have the time) but also I just want to share what I have.

This chapter is a little cheesy, so small warning for that.

 1.7 k words

Fandom: Redacted Asmr/Audio

TW/CW: Quinn in other words toxic, controlling, abusive relationship. nothing graphic. This is a Boxing/Fighting Au so there is fighting, i wouldn't consider it graphic, but everyone's different so read with your own discretion.

Let me know if I missed a trigger or spelling mistake.

Please comment and reblog, it lets me know people like my stuff and encourages me to write more!!!!!!

The building was intimidating.

It wasn't tall or fancy like the buildings a couple of blocks down.

It was an average building.

An average gym.

And yet it was still so daunting.

They checked the card for about the sixteenth time.

The sign matched the card.

The dirty, crusty, crumbled-up card.

The card's appearance didn't match its meaning.

This card was their lottery ticket.

“That name doest fit you.”

They turned around, a man, a beast.

He was tall, big, rugged.

The definition of strong.

Standing right in front of them.

“Excuse me?”

“Your fighter name, it doesn't fit you. And honestly neither does this.” 

His hand slowly waved around, gesturing to the alley.

“You're better than an alley fighter.”

They couldn't hold back their laugh, short and dry.

Just like Quinn’s. 

“You must have mistaken me for someone else. I'm the fighter that lost.”

“I know.”

He steps closer.

Yet distanced.

He was still giving them space.

He respected them.

“And everyone and their mothers knows that fight was rigged. Though I could see it.”

Intrigued, they took a step closer.

“See what?”

“The passion. The strength, the techniques, you are a fighter.”

“I’m not.”

“You have the will to be.”

He stretched his hand out, a business card.

“I can teach you.”

“So this guy approached me today.”

All Quinn did was grunt and roll away from them.

“He says he can teach me how to fight.”

Their excitement was palpable.

“I already did.”

The air tensed as he fought to dampen their excitement.

For once, he failed.

“No, like real fighting, I looked up the name on the card. His dad is Gabriel Shaw, like Gabe Shaw!”

They hadn't felt this hopeful for a long time, and they wished Quinn would share their interest, at least a little, at least for once.

“Gabe Shaw, like the 3 time champi-”

“Two time, I recognized the name, he died before the last fight.”

The air tensed more.

Quinn was good at pushing things to their limit.

Even the air.

They hated it.

It was sicking.

They were sick of it.

Sick of Quinn.

“I think I'm going to take him up on it, he doesn't fight anymore, but from what I saw he’s good, just as good as his dad, and his fighters get pretty far. I could be a real fighter, I could learn real techniqu-”

“I already taught you real shit, and we already win.”

He moved fast and with anger.

Out of the bed he charged at them.

“Quin-”

“We already win. You're getting too cocky. Winning isn't about the fight itself, winning comes from the fuckers that bet, the poor drunk suckers we trick with the fights. That's how we win. You are no fighter, you know that. I’ve shown you that.”

He looked into their eyes, he didn't have to threaten them.

Not with details at least.

They knew it all too well.

That look in his eyes.

The tone in his voice.

It was all he had to do. 

And he knew it.

And he loved it.

He smiled, wicked and calm. Like this was normal, they supposed it was.

They didn't want it to be.

Not anymore. 

His hand reached for their forearm.

“Let us get to bed now precio-”

 They moved.

 Just slightly.

Just enough to avoid his touch.

"You don't want to do that, precious."

He was right.

They weren't ready.

They had to be ready.

They will be ready.

"I couldn't take it."

"What?"

The other fighter spoke, they weren't looking at you, their eyes on Quinn.

"Being with him. Dealing with him once a month is too much."

"Yeah. You're the first one to say that."

"Probably because the other fighters want to get in his pants. They just can't resist ‘The Viper’ "

They don't reply.

"Sorry, I thought you knew."

"I do, there's not much I can do."

"I think there is.”

"You don't understand"

"I do."

They look at the chunky heart-shaped ring on their finger.

"You can get out."

Those words drew them in.

Cautiously they expressed their interest.

"He's quite insecure, use it. Take away his control.”

There was a pause.

They looked around again.

Their eyes caught on Quinn.

A decision was being made behind those eyes.

When they made their decision it was clear.

They made eye contact.

Strong eye contact.

And continued.

“You'll have your moment. I promise. Take it or don’t, it’s up to you.”

They turn their back. 

" It's a little strange that you never win these staged fights. I think it's about damn time.”

"I hope everyone's bets are placed because the books are closed for Scraps vs Sweetheart!"

The announcer looks at Quinn, and with a quick nod, he starts again.

"Fighters ready?"

Sweetheart has an intense stare as they nod.

Scraps, on the other hand, doesn't hear the announcer the first time.

"Scraps? This fighter isn't even prepared, it's your fault if you took your chances on this underdog."

They snap back. 

"I'm ready."

And they were.

"Then…..FIGHT!"

The match starts, as planned. 

A couple hits, a swing of the legs and Scraps is knocked to the floor, as planned.

Sweetheart approached, to taunt, as rehearsed.

"Don't take this personally."

That's the only hit they give sweetheart.

Sweetheart's eyes glimmer as they smile.

"I won't. Take your moment."

Scraps grabs their neck, slamming their heads together before flipping them behind. Scraps moves fast as they get up. In the crowd, they see Quinn and his goons moving to the ring. 

"Sorry, thank you."

"Don't be, go."

They climb the makeshift fence and run. A huge smile stains their face as they leave the building, rain washes the sweat off their face. They keep running. Not running away from Quinn but towards freedom,  towards their future.

They took a deep breath before they opened the gym doors.

It’s bigger than they'd expected.

They'd never been in a professional gym like this. 

There were multiple rings, real rings, not the homemade stuff they were used to.

There's no reception desk like a public gym, but luckily David Shaw was the first person they spotted.

He was in a ring with someone.

They walk towards the ring, they can feel the other fighters watching them.

They get to the ring David is in.

Neither he nor the other fight realizes it.

"David?"

The two whip their head to you.

"Get out."

He was calm but still seemed angry.

"I'm Scraps, from the-"

"I know who you are. Now get out!"

They climb out of the ring, and begin their walk to the door, feeling defeated and quite offended they, whisper to themselves.

"Well fuck you mister big shot ."

"I'm not a big shot."

David says from behind. 

Scraps freezes up.

"When I said get out I meant the rink."

They stay still.

"Will you turn around?"

David didn't hold back his frustration.

Scraps feels it'd be best to turn around.

"Sorry."

"You shouldn't enter a ring without permission, not here."

"Sorry, I've never been somewhere this professional."

"You don't mean that."

"What?"

"Those sorries. That is not how you feel."

"I am sorry. And how exactly would you know how I feel? You just met me."

David's eyebrows raise as his eyes keep a dull annoyed look.

“To quote you ‘Well fuck you mister big shot’, that's how you feel, Don't act differently,  it pisses me off. I hate suck-ups."

Scraps believes him.

"Well, I'm not sorry, only because you don't have to be an ass, you said you recognize me, then you should of figured I wouldn't know these rules."

"I was an ass so I could protect you, get used to it."

Scraps smiles.

David rolled his eyes.

"It’s been about a year."

"Does the offer still stand?"

"Yes."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Nothing."

Silence rests between them.

Scraps isn't patient enough to let it continue. 

"So can I start today?"

"We can't just take you in at the last moment, the trainers have others to train.”

"I don't." 

A curly-haired blonde yells across the room, near a punching bag, and starts rushing toward the two.

"I'll do it." 

David takes a breath so deep it is visible from his chest. Before he let out a sigh.

"No."

"Oh come on David, I'm a great trainer."

"Asher, I know that, but I said no. You are not the right fit. "

"Ohhh you want to train them."

Asher starts walking towards Scraps.

"Lucky bastard."

He whispers, without maliciousness.

"So what do we call you?"

"Well, I've gone by Scraps for a while."

"Scraps? Really?"

He looks them up and down.

"That won't work"

"He's right, I'm not calling you that."

David seconded Asher.

"Well, I don't really have any other ideas."

"Tank!"

Another voice echoes throughout the gym. 

Scraps wasn't expecting to recognize anyone other than David, but rushing towards the group was the boxer who gave them the nudge they needed.

Behind said fighter was a guy, seemingly trying to stop the other from coming over. He was failing.

"That would be Sweetheart,  they're our newest addition."

Asher kindly tried to keep Scraps updated through all the chaos.

"They know who I am Ash, at least I hope they do, with the concussion they gave me. You've got one thick skull."

Slightly overwhelmed by all the attention,  Scraps freezes and doesn't answer.

"But listen, Tank, it's perfect,  there like a machine. They gave me a concussion for God's sake, and then, after slamming our heads together,  which had to have hurt them too, they flipped me. That mother fucker acted like I weighed nothing. They're a fucking tank."

"How many times have I told you to watch your language."

David made a sound comparable to a growl.

Sweetheart rolled their eyes, then looked over to Scraps, to engage them.

"He's not a fan of my filthy mouth."

"I sure am."

"Milo"

David sounded like he wanted to strangle Milo.

Yet, to Scraps surprise no one was scared.

The group just laughed it off.

It was strange to Scraps.

"Ohhh my god!"

Asher shot his hands out to get everyone's attention.

"If you go by Scraps now, and we change it to Tank it's like, like you're being rebuilt, becoming stronger. Which is fucking sick."

David shakes his head at the profanity. Before turning to Scraps.

"It's up to you, it's your name. You don't have to choose now. "

"I like it. I mean, I love it."

That's all they said, they wanted to say more but didn't want to overshare about their life after five minutes of meeting these people.

"I am a tank. So I'll be Tank."

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