Yourstrugglingwriter

An AU I’ve been thinking about for a while, inspired by 8x06. It’s the late 60s, and Shawn, Gus, Juliet, and Lassiter all run a rather shady nightclub that caters to a criminal clientele. They’re not exactly the good guys anymore...

For @xdawnofthestarsx .

Juliet O’Hara can take care of herself. She’s a quarter of the manpower keeping Santa Barbara’s hottest club afloat, after all. A club that happens to be filled with criminals and mobsters, all going about their dirty business. So yes, she can handle a drunk guy with a few black-market guns on her own.

That doesn’t mean it’s not fun to let Shawn do it, though.

Her lover had arrived just before Juliet has pulled her own weapon, and as he stood behind her, his chest against her back letting her feel his growled warning to their patron, she’d decided to let him handle this one.

Now, he’s got his gun out, spinning it casually in his hand as he threatens the weapons dealer. Juliet smirks and leans against the bar, watching him work.

“You’d better be careful, buddy,” he says, flicking the safety of his weapon off, then on, then off again. “It’s pretty damn stupid to be flashing your precious cargo around, as wasted as you are.”

The man laughs too loudly. “‘M not drunk!”

Shawn snorts quietly; Juliet only shakes her head.

“Well, then, you’ve definitely got a lot of balls, coming in here and threatening my woman. She runs this place as much as I do, y’know?” Shawn steps closer, without waiting for an answer. By now, he’s really holding his gun, his finger brushing the trigger. “A lot of balls,” he repeats. “And if you don’t get out of here soon, you’ll be leaving with fewer than you came with.”

“Alright already,” the man grumbles, scowling at Shawn’s weapon, which is pointing right where he’d threatened to shoot. “I’m goin’, I’m goin’.”

Once he’s under the supervision of the bouncers, Shawn returns his focus to Juliet. She’s already a bit hot under the collar from watching that... impressive... show, and the grin he gives her doesn’t help matters.

“How’d I do?” His hands rest on the bar behind her, on either side of her hips.

She gives him a teasing smile. “I don’t know. A bit crass.”

“Crass?” Shawn leans down, his forehead resting against hers. “Excuse me, I am a gentleman.”

The liquid burns as it makes its way down her throat, but Cassie pays it no mind.

A certain warmth wraps around her like a cocoon. She feels warm and fuzzy, the way she used to when she was young and she and Mom would curl up under their coziest blankets together. It’s a feeling she craves even in her sleep, and she spends all of her waking hours seeking it out. The whiskey chases away all the bad feelings, the feelings of being simultaneously too much and not enough.

Not that anyone knows exactly how bad off she is. Cassie prides herself on appearing fully functional, with not even Dad seeing through her perfectly crafted facade. If anyone were to find out just how broken she was, they’d pack up and leave her in the dust, wounded and abandoned. She promised herself she’d never be abandoned again, like that’s ever stopped anyone before. But if she could prevent it, she would.

Her life is a series of perfectly crafted images with one thing in common: perfection. The perfect daughter, sister, athlete, student, teacher. Perfect, perfect, perfect, wrong, wrong, wrong. The perfect one. The alcoholic. Cassie snorts and rocks in her chair. The weight of perfection is heavy; her heart constricts at the thought of doing it again tomorrow. 

But she’s fine. Functional. Fine.

"Don't get too attached to me, okay?"

Their tone was teasing, but the protagonist wasn't in the mood for joking.

He heard Kaltain sigh, a soft breath escaping her thin lips. He couldn’t help but stare at the strange girl. His eyes leafed over her sunburnt skin that peeled in random spots and her pale complexion that looked almost sickly. Dark locks of matted hair hung from her scalp, tumbling into harsh waves that barely past her shoulders. She was so thin, like a dead weed ready to be swept away by a passing wind. 

Lucien felt his heart twist with guilt. Growing up, the thought of his next meal had never sparked concern. Three meals a day, sometimes more. And all this time, Fort Banks suffered through years of minimal crops and a multitude of diseases. 

He could only thank his Father for the safety of his lifestyle. As son of the Governor, his hands would always remain soft. His stomach would never endure the pain of emptiness. His skin would never fry under the sun’s merciless rays. His head would never lie on anything less than plush pillows and coloured silks. 

“Race you to the middle,” said Kaltain, her bony elbow ramming sharply into his side. He nearly doubled over in pain. She was strong for a twelve year old girl. 

She ran off without hesitation, squealing in excitement as she entered the maze. Sobering from his shock, Lucien jumped into action. He chased the trail of her dress, patches of various fabrics poorly sewed together flowing in the soft breeze. 

“You cheated!” He cried, his voice cracking thanks to puberty’s slow work. Lucien was no match against the young girl’s speed, his own endurance having never been under such strain. But despite his loss, he couldn’t help but giggle. 

For once he had a friend. Sure, she was one of the servant’s daughters, but it no longer fazed him. This morning, she had walked straight up to him and said he looked fat. They had never spoken before. It had stricken the thirteen year old boy, not only because it was insulting but also because he had never spoken to a girl his age. 

She had mentioned she was going on an adventure, and needed a sidekick. The only criteria was to be able to run. Lucien’s pride had been too strong to admit he wasn’t much a runner, forcing him to go along and prove his worth. The adventure had brought them all around the estate, from the cold pond in the forest to the attic inside the house, and finally to the rose garden. 

After many twists and turns and the occasional retracing of footsteps, the two found the centre of the maze. There was only a small open space covered with perfectly cut green grass. The moon watched overhead, bathing the garden in a silver glow. Fireflies danced around them, following the rhythm of their own melody. 

Without a word, Kaltain sprawled herself onto the lush grass like a lazy cat. Her bland grey eyes stared up at the vast sky, freckled with stars. Moonlight shone across her damaged skin, putting it under a spotlight. She didn’t flinch or turn away, didn’t ask for shadows to cloak her flaws. Her pointed chin remained focused ahead. 

Beautiful, Lucien muttered to himself. He laid beside her tiny frame, shoulders only a sliver apart. His heart, innocent as it was, beat uncontrollably. His palms were moist as butterflies erupted in the pit of his stomach. 

“I love you,” he said. He’d heard Father and Mother say those three words to each other many times. They would always follow with blushing smiles and gentle chuckles. They were happy together, as he was happy with Kaltain. So of course, it could only mean love. 

“Don’t say that,” said the young girl, her voice suddenly sharp. All traces of carefree happiness vanished. 

Weird, he thought, Mother doesn’t usually say that to Father. 

Lucien turned to face Kaltain, but stilled at the sight of a fat tear rolling down her cheek. As if realizing he was staring at her, she quickly wiped it away and craned her neck to face him. They were only inches apart, gazing at each other. If I only move a bit, our lips will touch. 

She let out a shaky sigh, softening the creases in her brow. “Don’t get too attached to me, okay?” Her tone was teasing, slicing the heaviness that spiralled between them. 

Lucien frowned, not in the mood for joking. His heart felt heavy, his pride stricken for the second time today. “Why does the idea of someone loving you seem so terrible?”

The young girl shifted her gaze back towards the moon, her eyes growing moist. Although Lucien couldn’t read her mind, he had an odd feeling the girl was plagued with memories better locked away.

Although the girl was lost in her own nightmares, the boy’s eyes never left her blotchy face. Only one word echoed in his mind, directly from his youthful heart. 

@grishasnet : event 4 | alternate covers