#ANYWAYS. i have never experienced a desire to get wasted and i hope it stays that way

[mars-ipan]

i am such a one drink girlie. tipsy is plenty and i do not want to experience a hangover ever in my life

[ddarker-dreams]

Yan Childe, Diluc, Kaeya, Zhongli, Beidou & Ningguang / Courting Darling.

Warnings: Stalking, implied blackmail, kidnapping, and gaslighting. Note: this is a bit of an amalgamation from different asks i’ve gotten, put into one thing bc i thirst for these six characters so hard .

Childe:

“What’s life without a little adventure? You can stand to miss work for a day or two, it’ll still be there waiting for you when we get back. People have even gone so far as to say I’m an absolute joy to be around. You want to know who said that? Sorry, that source is staying a secret.” 

Childe is an erratic whirlwind of highs and lows. You never know what to expect from him, and he likes it that way, always keeping you on your toes. He doesn’t bother with having his friendliness appear genuine. If you want to doubt his goodwill, then so be it, he won’t stop you. It just makes it all the more interesting to keep you around should you be wary of his presence. 

He doesn’t care for the traditional conventions surrounding romance. It isn’t his thing, and he’s used to being considered the odd one out of every crowd, so why stop now? Childe doesn’t tone down any aspects of his bloodthirsty personality in your presence. It’s difficult to tell how serious he’s being since most of it takes the form of jokes or other lighthearted jests. In his mind, the fact he’s even spending so much time with you should make it obvious he’s interested. Whether that’s good or not. 

You’re going to be dragged all over the place. Childe’s stamina is seemingly an infinite well, as he takes you from activity to activity. By the end of the day, you’ll be exhausted. Unfortunately, he doesn’t take no for an answer, weaseling his way into your schedule despite your protests. Childe is particularly fond of getting into situations where a fight is inevitable, purposefully taking you to areas with monsters to show off his combat prowess. 

“Did you get a look at that, [First]? Aha, I haven’t had this much fun in ages! You already want to head back? Hm, I don’t know, the night is still young. Stop dragging your feet or I might just have to carry you. Not that I’m complaining, should that be the outcome. It’s up to you. Oh! Now that’s the spirit! I’ll try not to be hurt by how fast you’re moving now.” 

Diluc: 

“Ah, [First], I take it you’re doing well. I couldn’t help but notice you eyeing this book at the market earlier. I’ve had a copy of it for ages, but with how busy things are, rarely do I have time to read. I’d be appreciative should you accept this and give it a better home.” 

Diluc is self-assured in many areas of his life, romance is not one of them. He knows how to carry himself in the company of businessmen, staying polite and vigilant, but this rigid method doesn’t work in his favor when it comes to wooing you. To soften the blow on his side, Diluc tells himself that it was never about a relationship anyway. That his main priority was and will always be to ensure your safety. He tells himself this, but... isn’t sure if he really believes it. 

He’s a perfect example of pining from afar. Subconsciously, he’ll drift towards areas you tend to linger around, hoping to spot you amidst the bustling crowds. Each time he tells himself that this’ll finally be the time he approaches you. The opportunity is set before him, waiting to be taken advantage of, but he rarely follows through with his desire. 

It frustrates Diluc to no end how easily others flock to you. He’ll stand there, still as a statue, eyes boring into whatever pest currently holds your attention. This would be the push to finally send him your way. It’s a surprise to you both when Mondstadt’s wine tycoon materializes by your side, politely asking to speak in private. Truth be told, he just can’t stand the thought of another person holding your attention that isn’t him. 

“I apologize for my abruptness back there. There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you about for some time, and well... would you consider having dinner with me tonight? I’d appreciate your company.” 

Kaeya:

“It’s a funny thing, really. How we keep bumping into one another like this. Ah... that suspicious expression, it wounds me deep, sweetheart. When did you start looking at me like that, I wonder?” 

There’s no doubting Kaeya’s interest in you, from the first time he sauntered over to you and started a conversation. The problem you have is deciding how genuine his advances are. While Kaeya might not be the textbook definition of a heart-wrenching playboy, you’re familiar enough with the many rumors surrounding him to be wary. It doesn’t help that he’ll point this out to you when guessing the source of your apprehension. 

His methods are, oddly enough, effective. Kaeya balances the various aspects of seduction with ease. He reveals just enough about himself to draw out your attention, before focusing the conversation back onto you. You’ll never get to stop and realize how little you know about the man sitting in front of you, he makes certain of that.

Kaeya might hide certain aspects of himself, but his dubious morality is never concealed. He has you entirely wrapped around his finger, words validating his actions falling from his lips with the utmost ease; he’s a force to be reckoned with. You’ll start a conversation heated about something you’ve learned, only for it to end wondering why you were ever upset in the first place.

“Now, now, there’s no need to get all riled up over something like this. Don’t you trust me by now? When have I ever given you reason to doubt me? You need to take a look at the bigger picture. Hey, take a seat. I’ll sit here all night explaining to you if it’s necessary.” 

→[More underneath the cut].

Zhongli: 

“There must be something that I can assist you with. It may not look it, but I’m familiar with many fields of work, even obscure ones. Please allow me to lend a hand.” 

Zhongli, despite having been around for many centuries, is somewhat clueless in romantic pursuits. He’s aware of his fondness for you, but doesn’t know what to do with it. This leads him to becoming your shadow for some time. He focuses on what he knows best: observation and processing new information. Your every little movement will be analyzed and tuck into the back of his mind for later usage. 

Zhongli’s soft over the idea of you coming to rely on him for everything. He prides himself on his wealth of knowledge and work ethic, believing it a strong appeal, one that he puts on full display when you’re around. It’s not rare for you to overhear neighbors and friends speak highly about Zhongli. They’ll mention in passing how they were having difficulty with something, only for Zhongli to come around and help without asking for anything in return. 

This is exactly what he’s been hoping and waiting for. Zhongli has patience and sets himself up to be a desirable partner in your eyes, the efforts from his labor coming into fruition. Before you even speak to him for the first time, you’re likely to think highly of him, having heard all the ways he’s helped people close to you. Now that the stage is properly set, he’s ready to make his interest in you more evident. 

“I’ve heard a lot about you, [First]. Oh? You can say the same for me? Well, I hope I can live up to your expectations. I had just been on my way to Yanshang Teahouse, would you care to join me? My treat, of course.” 

Beidou: 

“You haven’t lived until you’ve experienced a voyage with my crew and I. I’ll set up a nice cabin just for you, how does that sound? Hm? Special treatment? Don’t worry your pretty little head about that, lass.”  

Beidou’s attention is overwhelming and oftentimes dangerous. Traditional social conventions are nothing but a waste of time for her, meaning that common courtesy is disregarded in favor of always speaking her mind. Which might not be so bad if she wasn’t so amorous. Even the most oblivious person couldn’t miss Beidou’s overt favor towards you.

This reverent display of affection is only exacerbated when she’s drunk, face flushed and an arm swung tightly around your shoulder. She doesn’t care who sees, who’s judging, or what gossip will be born from her actions. Beidou makes a point of showing everyone in the vicinity that even if you aren’t officially partners yet, a claim has been staked on you. 

Whether it be coercion or some other unsightly method, Beidou is intent on bringing you on her ship at least once. Or that’s how she initially phrased it to you. Imagine your surprise, that when you finally caved so she’d drop the subject, her crew was untying the ropes keeping the boat at port. 

“The fun’s just getting started, you haven’t seen anything yet. Don’t get all teary-eyed yet, sweetheart, I know you’ll come around. This’ll be a story sung by sailors for generations to come.”

Ningguang:

“If I’m being honest, not many are given the opportunity to speak to me outside of business-related ventures. I never thought I’d find it this... pleasant. I hope you’ll continue to entertain me as you do now.” 

Ningguang starts off her wooing in a subtle, almost coquettish manner. She is confident in her charm and brilliance. Not many have been gifted in the art of conversation to the same extent Ningguang has, her silver tongue paired with quick intellect making it difficult for you to escape. She’ll corner you verbally without you even noticing it. 

Ningguang finds amusement in how you stumble over your words, pure of heart and not chained down by special interests. Your forthright but considerate demeanor intoxicates her. She’s used to people cowering in her presence or trying too hard to pursue their goals. You might even earn a rare compliment or two, disguised as politeness, that doesn’t register for hours. 

She is a lady of fine taste. The sky’s the limit when it comes to her wealth, which is unrivaled throughout Tevyat, and you’ll be quick to notice this. Ningguang is most partial to sending you traditional Liyue adornments, believing the rich culture behind each piece suits your beauty. She’s also fond of the fact that when you wear her gifts, everyone in the vicinity will know it’s from her, due to its extraordinarily high cost. 

“Do you like my latest gift, little dove? It was made custom with you in mind, an unrivaled display of craftmanship, if I may add. Wear this and carry me with you... always.” 

[fieryhonesty]

“Story’s based on a request from a Nonnie and they are right! Our Xiao needs hugs and rest a bit.”

Words: 1910

Genre: fluff, f!reader

Xiao is always keeping things for him. He will never seek company to share his burdens. After all, there is no trouble which will last long enough, he says. However he can't deny there are moments when he is fed up. Be it the never ending war he fights or his own problems. Which are having roots back in history.

Sometimes there's too much to handle at once, yet he stands tall and faces it headon. Never argues or falters with decisions. As long as it means he can protect Liyue. 

To anyone who has never seen him or rarely, he looks like a strong and cold man. But is he really like this? He is an Adeptus, he has seen a lot and experienced some battle scars. Was Xiao always like this? Back in the days when all other Yaksha existed. 

Many things happened in his life. He can't even count or remember it all. But all those things made him who he is now. Although there are things which still surprise or confuse him. 

He never liked showing himself in front of mortals. There are just a few ones which he tolerates or even allows to talk to him. If he is in a good mood of course. The ones who know Xiao also know about keeping distance when he is upset.

But there's one mortal whose boldness or maybe stupidity never ceases to amaze him. He told you so many times to leave him be, added harsh words and yet... you didn't turn away. Instead approached and offered a companionship. 

He eventually gave up with chasing the silly female away. At first he didn't know why she was so stubborn. Mortals are strange but you are like one or two levels stranger than anyone else. Just why do you wish to spend time with somebody like him?

You are like a bridge between the silent and closed up Adeptus and mortal realm. Part of him is still hesitant and refuses to share his burdens. He might have allowed you to stay beside him, be it in silence or tell him what you did that day. What strange things happened or something. He would just sit there and listen. But none of this means he will let his guard down. He will always be fully aware of what's happening around. 

You are often asking yourself: does he ever rest? As you know him for a while you are able to recognize when he is really sad and you shouldn't say much. Or when he is quite alright and willing to listen to your rambling until you fall asleep. The fact you can peacefully sleep in Xiao's presence amazes him.

Today is one of those nights when he would have preferred to be just alone. But why does he feel this burning desire to pay you a visit? Is it because you didn't come for a few days and he got worried? No. That can't be it. Xiao has no attachment to anybody, especially mortals.

Truth to be told, he feels tired and despite feeling the way he feels. He decides to silently knock on your door. At first he thought he knocked too lightly. For a brief second he thought to himself to leave. Why is he here anyway? But then he heard your footsteps from behind the door. 

He feels so conflicted. He shouldn't be here, seeking anyone's company. Solitude and sadness are nothing to him.

When you open the door of your apartment, the cold is immediately making you shiver. Not wasting any second grabbing Xiao's wrist and pulling him inside. The cold is too much for you. How the heck he can just stand there and not shiver?! 

Be it anyone else touching him, he would have asked them if they do have a death wish. He got used to your touch at least a bit. You sometimes gently squeezed his hand in a friendly gesture. To assure him you are there, willing to listen to anything or just sit silently and observe the sky.

Letting go of his wrist and looking into his golden eyes. As usually his expression is the same but you can feel he is not alright. His shoulders are unusually down and overall his posture is different. 

"Is something wrong?"

You ask with a slightly tilted head to the side. You are not even aware of this, you do it automatically all the time. It's kind of cute but don't expect the Adeptus will say it out loud. He is already confused. He wanted to be alone, why did he come here. He is clearly delaying your bedtime. He should have never come. But the words escaping his lips are even more confusing him. 

"You didn't come..."

Is he really worried about a mortal? Didn't he promise to himself to never get any attachment to anyone? Not even to another Adepti. 

Your next move is really bold and unexpected. Xiao gasps in surprise as you wrap your arms around him.

"Y/n? What are you...?"

Perhaps embracing him would not be the brightest idea if you consider how little he knows about human interactions. But you couldn't help yourself. Feeling a bit guilty for making the poor man worried. He already has a lot on his plate.

"I'm sorry if I did worry you."

You said as you gently rubbed his back, drawing circles in a soothing manner. 

It took him a while to realize what was going on. He seen this act between other mortals but never cared what does it mean. It's just two people are in close proximity, touching each other. But there's something strange about the act. 

Your warmth. 

He didn't feel cold while being outside, he is used to it. But when he feels your warmth he can't help it but feel a bit at ease. When you pull back to check on him, he feels a little... sad? Perhaps he missed the opportunity to repay the act. 

"You know. There's something I had noticed about you, Xiao."

He lifts an eyebrow at you. Unable to contain the curiosity.

"How much do you trust me?" 

You ask while trying to keep your smile. Aware of how much the question doesn’t make sense with what you said before.

Xiao on the other hand is pondering over your question. How much does he trust a mortal like you? And why are you asking him in the first place?

"That's stupid thing to ask. You should have known the answer already."

There we go again. Xiao and his not so sugar coated words. Surely you know he has at least a bit more trust in you than other humans. But would he let you touch him even more? No matter how you put it, it will sound wrong.

"Well then... it just crossed my mind out of nowhere but. Uh... There's something that always bugged me. Do you ever rest or relax at all? I mean yes you do just hang around at Wangshu here and now. But I mean like a real rest..."

You had to stop yourself. Feeling how your monologue was getting worse by each said word.

"I don't need to-"

"Yes, you do." 

Oh no. It slipped out faster than you could think of it. He is silent, eyes slightly narrowed. Did you anger him? It's quite easy to do it after all.

"What do you propose then?"

"Eh?" 

"Don't 'eh' at me. If you think I need to relax then you should have an idea how."

You are finally on the same page. Sometimes you hate your brain to jump into way too fast conclusions. You motion for him to follow you to your living room where you both sit on the sofa. Telling him to sit turned back to you. 

You are sitting behind him. What are you planning? Ah! A gasp escaped his lips making him feel embarrassed. You just barely touched his shoulders. Not even using too much force, just a gentle squeeze to test waters. 

"So, can I give you something that my mom calls a medicine for tired muscles?" 

A simple massage. Just by a single touch you could feel how tense his muscles are. He nods. Being glad you can't see his face now. Biting his bottom lip. He didn't know how much his back actually hurts. Not paying attention to it anymore. But now, he is melting under your touch. 

You try to be gentle but also applying some pressure to help his muscles to relax. You had learned how to massage when you were teen as your mother always had back pain from her work. This was the fastest help, along with pain killers.

Xiao deeply exhales, closing his eyes. He hates to admit it but this feels good, maybe too good. Perhaps he could let his guard down for a bit, at least for now. Letting your skilled fingers caress him. Exhaustion and fatigue is slowly getting under his skin. And this warm feeling, he wants more. Just like when you embraced him a while ago. 

You noticed how much he relaxed under your hands. You can't help it but smile from ear to ear. The mighty Guardian, always so rigid can't endure the pleasant feeling. 

"If you are tired you can sleep over, I don't mind. Unless... you have plans to mess up your back just right when I fix them up?"

You had secretly hoped he wouldn't disappear when you are done. You know when he leaves your place he will go back to his stiff attitude again. 

"Somebody has to keep you safe at night. Take it as a payment..." 

You giggle as he says that. You could tease him about admitting he likes this but decided to rather not.

When you were done and brought him a spare blanket you noticed his blush. Not saying anything and just offering the warm cover. What you did not expect was him grabbing your wrist. 

"Xiao?"

"How can... I keep you safe if you are in the other room?"

Oh damn. Your brain is preoccupied with why he just won't admit he wants to keep you close. 

"Um, you want to move the sofa into my bedroom?" 

He groans. Why you must play dumb now? All he wants is more of your warmth. When you embraced him, when you touched him. He felt at ease�� which is new to him. Is it too much to ask for more? Well, maybe he should actually ask and be straight for once.

"Just... stay close." 

"Oh-"

That escalated quickly. For both of you. You decided to spare him from more suffering as you could see his face was slowly turning to tomato color. And you? You weren't much better. Turning off the lights before sliding under the blanket. For once being glad to have a bigger sofa. 

As you are both laying on your sides you feel Xiao's hand hesitantly go over you to pull you closer to him. Don't even think of escaping when he falls asleep. He has you secure. And certainly he won't admit any of this the next morning.

He is tired and confused by his behavior but he decided to blame it on his fatigue. You better don't mention any of this. Not even the way he is having a firm grip of your clothes. Or how quickly he fell asleep.

[astaroth1357]

Long Distance Longing with the Brothers

Want a little angst and sweetness? I love how this turned out and I think it’s a new favorite for me. I honestly should wait to post it... But I have no patience, I love it too much. Weirdly enough, thank Taylor Swift’s new album for giving me this idea. Go figure. 🤷‍♀️

Warnings: Angst, implied starvation

Intro:

The brothers knew it was going to happen eventually. The year can't last forever, and at some point they were going to have to say goodbye to their human for the break… But that didn't make the situation any easier. Nobody likes being so far from the one they love. It was only a matter of time before our boys are reaching a breaking point...

Lucifer

Lucifer has never really had a reason to not to work before… Like, yeah there are those days where things get stressful and he takes a step back, but actually taking an extended period of time to just... not work? A "vacation" if you will? He’s never had the desire. What would he even do with himself?

Well, for the first time in literal God knows how many centuries, he had an answer for that question. He was going to be with MC.

And that's exactly what he told Diavolo when he finally accepted that missing the MC was negatively affecting his work. 

He wanted a… "vacation."

Diavolo had never once thought Lucifer would ever ask, and to be fair the man never thought he would either, but he's more than happy to give his friend a few days off to visit his dear human.

Whatever brief hit that his pride took by having to admit that he needed a break was more than made up for by finally seeing the MC again. He knew he missed them, painfully aware of that fact, but just the sight of them waiting to meet him outside the portal was enough to nearly take his breath away…

His first vacation was sure to be paradise. 

Mammon 

Oh, the distance was killing this poor boy. Any day where he can’t have the MC on his arm feels worse than when he's on a losing streak…

Speaking of a losing streak, he's been stuck in one for a whole month without his beloved partner in crime with him. Did he lose his lucky charm or was he just too down in the dumps to gamble well? Anyone's guess.

Well he got fucking sick of it. He wanted to see the MC, ASAP. But how would he get to the human world…?

It takes a week but he gets an idea. It took another for it to actually trigger.

Like clockwork one of the witches he's regularly in debt to, one that just happens to be a bad gambler herself, summoned him out to give her a little extra luck. Usually, he'd just kick whatever slot machine she’s parked herself at and be done with it but this time he's got to ask… How long does that summon spell last, eh?

He made a new sort of bargain. She gets to take Goldie out for a spin if she gave him some time in exchange… 24 hours to be exact.

He didn't waste a second after striking the deal because he had a lot of flying to do.

The MC probably didn't expect to hear frantic knocking on their door at the break of dawn, nor to find a beat tired and disheveled Mammon leaning outside it….

But he embraced them for all it's worth anyway. If it meant feeling them in his arms again, he'd trade away the whole world if he had to...

Leviathan 

He… didn’t do so well with the distance. Like at all. He'd mope around the house, constantly bemoaning how unfair things were. Not even his favorite games can give him any joy because those were the games he used to play with MC…

Sneaking in the occasional video call was pretty much the only thing that could make him smile anymore. Just seeing their face felt like getting a cold drink in the middle of a scorching desert… But he wanted more.

Thankfully, the MC themselves gave him a really, really good idea…

For two weeks straight, Levi seemed to get out of whatever funk he was in to help out around the House… Like, really help out. Suck-up levels of help out. It creeped everybody out...

After a time he finally approached Lucifer and made a simple request. There was an anime convention going on in the human world soon and he'd like to attend…

The ulterior motive for this little visit is practically written on the wall, but he'd been acting so damn unnerving for the past two weeks Lucifer just gave him permission to make him stop.

When the MC agreed to meet him on the opening day, they said they'd be dressed up as someone he'd recognize. Frankly, he was expecting Henry or maybe Ruri-chan but he was completely floored to see them waiting for him dressed in a familiar black hoodie with coral-like horns on their head and a carefully crafted serpent's tail behind them.

To this day he still can't decide what made him happier: seeing the love of his life so adoringly dressed as him or finally feeling their body collide with his after they came running to each other outside the convention hall...

In the end it probably doesn't matter because for that whole day alone, he finally felt like he had everything he could of ever wanted right there with him.

Satan 

Satan's not one for idle moping so when he felt that yearning in his chest finally hit a tipping point, he didn't whine. He didn't complain. He got up and did something about it.

Teleportation magic is tricky to master and dangerous to perform even with sufficient skill. One wrong move and you could end up smearing yourself across three different continents…

But like that would stop him.

He pulled out every book he could find on the subject, researched for days, then practiced for weeks. First on books and apples, then on some of Lucifer’s belongings.

He had to keep making new excuses to throw Lucifer off the scent (especially after he started sending some of his shirts away to different parts of the house) but after some time, it finally paid off.

Satan was probably the last person the MC would have expected to see show up in their room randomly one night, sitting casually by a lamp and reading a book like he didn't just master time and space just to come say hi.

But who was going to be all that picky when they could finally shower their nerdy cat-lover in all the love and kisses they've both been missing for months now?

Asmodeus 

If you took Asmo at his word, then the sheer depths of longing and despair he was experiencing while the MC was away could far outweigh that of anyone else to ever have existed in the history of all time.

He was the Avatar of Lust, desire was in his nature. Couple that with a burning need to have his lover as close to him as he possibly could and it was safe to say he was losing his mind!

This might have been the reason Solomon finally gave in after his 16th-ish time trying to beg the sorcerer to help him. He really was quite pitiful in this state...

When Solomon told Asmo that he could smuggle him out of the teleportation gate between the Devildom and human world ONLY if he could magically disguised his appearance, he was kind of expecting Asmo to refuse. This was Asmo he was talking about. He honestly thought that he'd rather die than deprive the world of his beauty so selfishly…

The world is full of surprises, ain't it?

No matter where they were, no matter what they were doing, the MC was suddenly mowed over by a "stranger" running at them at top speed like an Olympic sprinter. It’d probably have been pretty scary before Solomon lifted the enchantment shortly after to reveal their demon’s gorgeously familiar face.

Solomon wasn't going to let him stay too long, lest he incur the wrath of Lucifer, but Asmo couldn't care less. Be it a thousand hours or a few short seconds, he could always find a way to make his time with the MC last a lifetime...

Beelzebub

Fun fact, Hell freezes over a little every time Beel says "I'm not hungry…" No. Seriously. A freezing wind blasts across the entire Devildom like the realm itself gets a sudden chill...

So imagine the levels of panic that went through pretty much everyone there when his appetite started to fail him.

It's not like the poor baby could help it, food just tasted so much better when the MC was there that eating without them was like trying to digest actual disappointment… He got tired of trying after a while.

A few days of this behavior were worrying, but when he started to get a little thinner the family went into an uproar, starting with Belphie but soon spreading to the rest of the House as well.

Lucifer's soft spot for the twins may have influenced his decision. I mean, it was awfully generous of him to get Diavolo to approve of an fully sanctioned, planned meeting between Beel and the MC. He probably wouldn’t have offered that to anyone else...

Not that Beel cared about all that background favoritism anyway. Hell, on the day that he was finally allowed to see them, he couldn't be bothered by anything other than holding the MC close and hoping they'd never let him go again.

His appetite did return to him eventually, of course, but as long as he had his human with him even the cheapest street taco tasted like a fine five star-meal.

Belphegor 

Frankly, Belphegor was sick and tired of missing people.

Ever since the Celestial War he missed Lilith. When he was stuck in the attic, he missed Beel. And now that the MC was away he was supposed to just sit patiently and miss them too? No way. Not happening. Something about that had to change.

It wasn’t the first time he'd gone to Lucifer in an angry huff, but admittedly he had more ammo than usual...

There was a… discussion between the two. It went on for a couple hours… There may have been some words to the effect of, "Don't you think you owe me?" exchanged… 

Honestly, it was kind of amazing Belphie didn't end up in another attic "timeout" by the end of it. But he got what he wanted, so what's to complain about?

With a little persuasion on his part, Lucifer managed to get Diavolo to approve of a weekly visit for the two, SO LONG as Belphie stayed on his best behavior in the human world.

There wasn’t really much worry about him acting up, though, since he'd have his nap buddy back. It would be pretty hard to be a threat to humanity when he was too busy staying snuggled up to his favorite person until well past noon...

[my-writings-and-musings]

I got a wonderful commission to share here today. I hope you're all ready for some ADORABLE shenanigans!!

MTMTE/Brave Police Crossover

The bots rescue an unusual group out in space, and make some unexpected friends.

"So, how are our new arrivals doing?"

Ratchet kept his voice rather low, but had little need to do so with the bots in question chatting away too eagerly to overhear him. 

"Good, as far as they've told us." First Aid replied, looking over the notes on his data pad with an expression of still overwhelmed awe. These "Brave Police" truly were a marvel; earth made bots just as capable as any Cybertronian, complete with the ability to transform! Casting a glance back to the group, he had to pause at the sight of Drift chatting happily with them all, feeling as left out as everyone else did for the moment. Being the only one who had their particular earth language in his files, the ninjabot had been their translator from the moment of their unexpected arrival, though had quickly become amicable enough with the gathered group to start chatting away even when there was nothing to interpret. Noting that he technically had yet to speak to any of the new arrivals directly, First Aid amended his statement. "Well, as far as they've told Drift, anyway."

"We'll have a language download primed in just a few minutes, conversing will be far easier in short order." Ultra Magnus reassured the gathered bots from his monitor, finishing up the unexpected language program they had so sorely been needing. Despite the copious quantities of data they had on alien languages, not a single file on earth languages had been ready to go... Rodimus had been less than happy at the news. "A few minutes after that, the whole ship will have access, eliminating further language barriers."

"A few slow minutes!" the captain remarked in a huff, tapping his pede as he watched the loading bar crawl to completion. Casting a longing glance at Drift, he made no effort to hide the source of his impatience. "I should have been able to welcome these bots on board, I'm already late to the job!"

"Complaining will not make this go any faster-"

Even Ratchet had to chuckle at Ultra Magnus's expense when the monitor suddenly pinged to notify them it was finished, but Rodimus wasted no time rubbing it in, practically fist pumping only for a moment before diving in. Downloading the program at impressive speed even for him, the captain booted up the new language straight away, leaving everyone else to catch up as he hurried over to their guests.

"Hey everyone!" he greeted happily, loving the thrill of a whole new manner of speaking. The Brave Police perked up at the sound of their primary language, which Drift had referred to as "Japanese", with the aforementioned bot looking especially pleased. Smirking at his friend in particular, Rodimus addressed the whole group as the bots behind him finished up installing the program. "Am I coming through loud and clear?"

Drift smiled, but looked to the blue mech that had identified himself as the head of their team. Even if he hadn't, however, Rodimus could tell by the way he jumped up and saluted that the bot in question was a natural leader. "Very clear!" he said enthusiastically, offering a hand to shake with impeccable manners that almost seemed to be made all the more charming by his boundless enthusiasm. "Though we've already met, I would like to personally introduce myself and thank you for the rescue."

"Not a problem! We were in the neighborhood, you know?" Rodimus replied, finding things infinitely easier now that the two could talk directly. As the rest of his own team caught up behind him, with Magnus giving him a pointed look of disapproval, he allowed the earth based bots to speak freely at last.

"I'm Deckerd, and these are the other members of the Brave Police." said the police bot, looking to his assorted friends and opening the floor for them. 

"I am McCrane." a reserved but friendly mech said, giving a very polite nod of his helm as a greeting. "It is a pleasure to meet you all."

A far more brightly colored mech, of a similarly solid build, gestured eagerly to himself. "I'm PowerJoe."

"Call me Dumpson!" a bright red mech announced, flexing an arm to show off his impressive strength. Rodimus had no doubt the bot would be very popular at Swerve's, and almost didn't notice the source of the next introduction from a sparsely lit corner.

"Shadow Maru."

Drift looked immediately impressed at the stealthy mech's skills, but before he could say a word the next member was speaking up quite emphatically 

"I'm Drill Boy!" he said from atop a medical berth, kicking his legs eagerly and bursting with so much energy one might actually miss the soccer ball positioned in his chassis. Every bot present mutually wondered if it was a design or an actual functional ball, especially Rodimus, but the topic was minor enough to be filed away for the moment. A red and white mech spoke up next, his tone so flat Rodimus immediately knew Magnus would have a new friend by the end of the day.

"Duke."

At last, a lightly colored bot chilling on an open chair spoke up, lazily offering a playful salute as he introduced himself. "I'm Gunmax, baby."

Rodimus knew, straight away, he had found his own favorite amongst the group. At least, this bot would undoubtedly be the one he related to most. Behind him, a grumpy presence cleared his vents and spoke up.

"I'm Ultra Magnus. Now that we are all acquainted, I believe it is time for some more in depth explanations-"

"Come on, Mags! These bots have been through enough!" Rodimus said, patting the much larger mech on the arm and ignoring the look of frustration it got him. Perhaps there was residual impatience from the language delay, but he had no intention of sitting through anything he didn't feel like. "Besides, I think we established the basics well enough. You guys are from earth, right? Human constructed?"

"Yes. We were in space to foil a criminals plot. We were successful, but had it not been for your rescue, I fear we would not have made it home." Deckerd replied, calling back to the shell of a space station they'd been rescued from. Evidently some human had invented a kind of interstellar travel for nefarious purposes, been stopped by the Brave Police, but not before managing to get them all incredibly lost. Looking to the floor, the police cruiser continued a little awkwardly. His request was wrapped up as a tentative statement. "That is... we are still hoping to return home."

Rodimus smiled, hoping to get the group comfortable eventually by being as welcoming and laid back as possible. Clearly they weren't accustomed to calling their own shots. "To earth? Hey, not a problem! It's a stone's throw from here... on a cosmic scale."

There was a small groan of exasperation, and Drill Boy hopped off the table, pouting like a sparkling. "Aww, do we have to go back right away?"

"Drill Boy-" Deckerd admonished, turning on the spot to face the younger mech but never getting a chance to finish.

"I agree with him, boss!" Dumpson affirmed, making their poor leader's face turn to mortification as he was quickly outnumbered. Power Joe affirmed the sentiment, gesturing to the medical bay that had awed them when they'd first arrived.

"Yeah! We've only heard rumors of beings like us, yet now look where we are!" he said, recalling their impossible wonder at furniture their own size being *everywhere*. The Cybertronian presence on earth had never been especially heavy in their home country, and with official information at a minimum, their rescue had been a discovery for both sides.

"We certainly can't overstay our welcome!" Deckerd countered, blushing as he tried to compel his fellow officers to comply. Far too polite to share his own desire to stay, the police bot flinched as Gunmax piped up, offering his usual level of laidback snark in a single retort.

"Then let's just stay until we're no longer welcome!"

"Everyone-"

"Hey, no worries!" Rodimus said, stepping in to rescue the poor leader before an argument could break out. Endlessly amused by what he was seeing, the captain was quite confident he spoke for everyone when he offered an extended stay. A quick glance along mostly affirming looks told him as much. "You guys are welcome on the ship while we chart a relaxed course for the blue marble, sound good?"

Deckerd flushed again, looking down and kneading his hands together as he replied. "We wouldn't want to impose-"

"No imposing here. Magnus, Drift, can you relay a message to earth so these bots can call home? Ratchet, any chance you can synthesize some fuel for them out of what's in stock?" Rodimus said, putting an arm around Deckerd and speaking quickly so there'd be no time to argue. There was thankfully no resistance, as Magnus appeared too resigned to offer any. Ratchet, however, had a quick request to make before anything else could proceed.

"I'll need access to... diagnostics. Our anatomies differ quite considerably, so if I'm going to offer care, I'm going to need more information." he said, likely recalling how shocked he'd been upon first scanning them and discovering no sparks. Not to mention their use of earth fuel over energon, or how they lacked transformation cogs, and that was to say nothing of their unfathomable processor design... It had been the first time he'd experienced surprise in the medical bay in a long time.

Deckerd nodded politely, gesturing helpfully to himself as he did so. "I can share my own, doctor. Theirs are based on mine."

"There, we all good?" Rodimus said, guiding the group of new arrivals to follow him out the door. He could tell these poor bots were unaccustomed to a world designed around beings like them, and thus he wanted very much to show them what they were missing out on. Plus, they deserved a bit of fun after everything they'd been through. "In the meantime, how about a tour?"

"Yes! Yes please!" Drill Boy replied, hopping right beside Rodimus and nearly bouncing on his spot. The enthusiasm was almost infectious, and the captain couldn't help but puff up as he pinged the doors to open. 

"Alright, let's go!" 

The entire group followed in short order, even the most reserved of them looking curious as to what awaited them. While the antics reminded him of sparklings, Rodimus had to remind himself they were incredibly young, so the comparison technically wasn't too far off. Considering that, he felt he owed them a good time. Drill Boy made that easy, at least, hurrying beside him with wide and amazed optics.

"Is the whole ship this big?!" he asked as they stepped into the hallway, turning in circles as he tried to absorb the entire space at once. Deckerd stepped forth to explain the actions of his teammate, though he was clearly quite impressed himself judging by the delighted smile on his face.

"Only our office is built to accompany beings of our size." he said, giving the Cybertronian pause as he considered living in a world designed for much tinier beings. Earth had seemed okay while visiting, but suddenly the thought of living there seemed... cramped. Judging by how these bots were marveling at a mere hallway, he wasn't wrong. Did the humans just expect them to squeeze through everything all the time?

Gunmax joined Drill Boy in appreciating the change of stretching out his arms high above his helm and looking quite pleased at how he didn't even come close to the ceiling. "This is way better! There's elbow room to spare!"

"Look! We can fit through all the doors!" Dumpson announced, standing beside a random doorway to emphasize how his bulky frame could easily slip inside. Rodimus had to fight the urge to chuckle at the sight, especially with how delighted every one of his charges appeared at the idea. Several even tried the comparison for themselves with multiple individuals beside a single frame. When they finally did go back home, he'd have to leave them with a parting gift of Cybertronian door technology. Perhaps even some blueprints for a building in their size were due.

"Hold up!"

A familiar voice made him stop and turn on the spot with a delighted grin.

"Drift!" he called out as his friend hurried up behind them, looking just as excited as Rodimus felt. The Brave Police looked equally delighted by the return of their initial interpreter, especially when he was offered a spot on the group. "Wanna help me show these bots around?"

"I'd love to! Magnus is handling the transmission message." he said, looking to their guests with a helpful smile as he explained what that meant. Not that he wanted to assume anything, but interstellar communication didn't seem to be amongst their skills. "You guys will be able to call home when we're done."

"Boss will certainly be relieved to hear we're all safe." Deckerd said, looking like the news had taken more than a little weight off his own shoulders. Exactly who their "Boss" was hadn't been specified, but from the sound of things they did admire and care for whoever it was. Which was good, because if there was even an inkling the humans weren't treating them well... Rodimus had his thoughts cut off by a polite question. "If I may ask, where did you learn to speak Japanese?"

"When I was on earth I spent some time in Japan." Drift replied happily, recalling how he'd explored the country and added the native language to his database to better understand what was going on around him. Thankfully he had kept it despite leaving earth behind, or these bots wouldn't have had a way to communicate their medical needs. Considering how flabbergasted the medics had been... that was an immeasurable blessing. "I've still got a number of other languages saved up, more for the memories." 

"Can you speak English?" Duke said, surprising even his cohorts with the question. Looking a little flustered at the attention, the surprisingly shy bot quickly clarified with an addendum under his breath. "It was... the first language I was programmed for..."

"I'm pretty sure most bots who have been to earth can speak English, learning a language isn't too hard for us as long as we have a download pack for it." Drift explained helpfully, and Rodimus had to stifle a smile at how his friend appeared ready to take the bot under his nonexistent wings. Ultra Magnus might have some competition befriending this one, it seemed. 

"Hey, what's a "Swerve's?" Drill Boy asked, pointing ahead and totally oblivious to the conversation they'd just been having. The bright neon lights on the wall and the bots hanging about gathered the attention of the entire Brave Police, and in an instant Rodimus and Drift shared a knowing look of anticipation. Hopefully, this would be the most fun their guests had ever had.

"The best place on the ship to unwind, make friends, and knock back a few drinks." Rodimus declared proudly, gaining the attention of the bots outside the bar as he did so. While the news of the "Earth made bots" had traversed the entire ship several times over, no one had seen them yet, and thus there was an immediate buzz of excitement. Rodimus hoped they were all ready to become very popular in a short stretch of time. 

"Drinks? For real?" Gunmax said, quickly moving to the front at the mere mention of the word and looking absolutely ecstatic. "About time, I'm parched!"

"But we don't consume the same types of fuel!" Deckerd reminded them all, looking uncertain and perhaps, a little hopeful to be wrong. While he didn't actually know the ins and outs of their differences in fuel consumption, Rodimus knew there was a bot who would, and was banking on him to have already crafted something. 

"Let's see about that." he said, somewhat obscure on purpose as he guided the group past Ten. Each one appeared to go through a cycle of intimidation to confusion when the big tough door guard said his single word and welcomed each of them with a wave. The inside of the bar was buzzing already as they squeezed inside, the newcomers optics going wide as they beheld the incredible activity thumping away to the music. Chatter only increased as their presence was noted, but Rodimus made it clear the group was with him and on a mission. He didn't want to unleash them to the chaos without loosening them up a bit.

"Hey Swerve!" he shouted over the noise, clearing enough space for everyone to gather beside the bar. The barkeep pretended to have just heard him, despite clearly having been watching them all from the moment they came in, and he stepped right up to the counter with a glowing visor. Clearly, he'd been waiting for this.

"Need something, Captain?" he greeted, still playing coy and acting as if he wasn't buzzing with excitement for the new arrivals. 

Rodimus, ever the sport, happily played along. Having ensured the whole ship had access to the language file, and allowing everyone interested to download it at their convenience, he spoke so that their guests could easily overhear the conversation. "Not me, but do you have anything for some travelers from earth?"

Before Swerve could answer, Drill Boy secured a seat at the bar, grabbing an empty drink and holding it up as the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. By the sparkles in his optics it might have been.

"Deckerd, look!! Everything is our size, even the cups!" he exclaimed happily, sitting up haphazardly on the stool as if he'd never had a place to sit in his own size. Technically speaking, he'd only ever had the one, so this might as well have been life changing. 

"I've got more than cups, I've got some mixes for you to drink out of them!' Swerve declared proudly, producing a bottle of oil based liquid that astounded the gathered bots. Having only ever had fuel for practical purposes, the very idea of consuming for fun was resulting in some beautiful expressions of surprise. Loving the reaction, Swerve explained his process with well deserved delight at the accomplishment. Dark, iridescent liquid that shimmered at the smallest movement was poured into waiting cups as he did so. "I looked at your usual fuel formula and made a few tweaks that should make it taste a lot better. What do you think?"

While each bot took their cup and drank with varying levels of bravery, there was still undeniable curiosity from every one of them, even the most cautious. Dumpson, Power Joe and Gunmax knocked theirs back like a shot while Duke, McCrane and Deckerd sipped politely, the rest falling somewhere in the middle as Swerve held his metaphorical breath. Thankfully, the results came in with incredible speed.

"Fuel can taste this good?!" Drill Boy shouted, finishing off his entire cup in a rush and leaning over the entire bar in a desperate search for more. "Please tell me you made enough for us to take home!"

"No wonder Gunmax always drinks it, this is amazing!"

"It never tastes like this, this is something else!"

"Is this why the Boss always drinks so much?! It can be this good?!"

Rodimus and Drift couldn't back some good natured laughs at the reactions, quite happy to have introduced the bots to some much needed fuel and a fun time at once. Swerve, looking like he was overwhelmed with pride and genuine emotion at the compliments, had to regain himself before opening another bottle. 

"I made plenty! Plus, I can make more!" he said, pouring more glasses for his new group of fans as the rest of the bar quickly fed off the growing celebratory energy. "As much as you want while you're here!"

"Hear that, everybot?!" Rodimus said above the din, taking advantage of the segway to set the newcomers free to mingle and hopefully befriend a few more bots. He could already see a few potential takers now; Tailgate appeared to be bursting with questions, and First Aid had reappeared to do the same, not to mention Ultra Magnus and Ratchet were stepping inside... The whole ship had to be present, and thus he made sure to be audible by everyone as he issued a statement so informal it could hardly be called a command. "The Brave Police will only be with us until they have to return to earth. In the meantime, let's show them how to have fun, Cybertronian style!"

A hearty cheer rose up, and by the natural fusion and fission of social groups, the earth bots were soon surrounded by eager and curious Cybertronians acting like long lost siblings.

Rodimus was vaguely aware of a tap on his shoulder, and while he expected to turn and see Magnus, Deckerd appeared rather sheepish as he held a partially drunk cup in both hands. Speaking just loud enough to be heard, he asked a question the captain hadn't actually prepared for. "If I may ask, what is this "Cybertron" I've heard referenced so often?"

The query was unexpectedly heavy, but he answered regardless. "It's our home planet, and-"

Before he could finish, Deckerd appeared shocked by the mention of " planet", as if something had finally come together in ways he struggled to process. "There's truly a whole planet of beings like us-you?" he said, betraying the source of his wonder in a single misspoken word. Rodimus felt his spark, something he had to remind himself the other bot didn't share, ache a little in sympathy for the bot. One could hardly tell they were of different worlds, but for all the problems of Cybertron, it was clear to him who had the advantage. The Brave Police didn't have an entire species of their own, and their time here had undoubtedly made them a bit more aware of that. It only made Rodimus all the more determined to give them a good time. 

"Yeah! It's a little rough right now, but once we clean up a bit you'll be welcome to visit." he said, noting that plenty of friendships would be made today to help that happen. Drill Boy was showing off tricks to a whole team of bots, Gunmax was competing with Dumpson and Power Joe to down shots, McCrane was having a conversation with Cyclonus as Tailgate watched with a glowing visor, Shadow Maru was actually chatting with Ravage, and Duke was indeed hitting it off with Ultra Magnus. There was no shortage of enthusiastic camaraderie to go around. Primus, he merely had to blink and there was a transformation speed contest, his shipmates awed at their shared ability to transform...

"I'm certain it will be fun." Deckerd said as he surveyed the minor chaos with a chuckle, optics warming with delight at his team having so much fun beside their newly discovered companions. Rodimus wanted to tell him that it would be more than fun. The Lost Light was wonderful, obviously, but there was a whole galaxy out there to explore! Hopefully he'd be able to convince them all to come on some future trips when they slung by earth again in the future. Maybe they weren't durable enough for meteor surfing, but they'd undoubtedly appreciate theme parks, virtual reality hubs, and the countless bars that lined the stars. 

"I promise it!" he said enthusiastically, putting an arm around the other bot like an affectionate big brother. For all of his reserved traits, the police bot chuckled at the gesture. Beaming as a monitor and microphone in the corner caught his optic, Rodimus guided the other mech through the crowd, speaking over the noise as he gestured with excitement. 

"Now, while we're still sober enough to appreciate it, let me introduce you to bot sized karaoke!"

[wannabemobwife]

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas - Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Blood is Thicker than Water

Dad!Mob!Tom x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield, Rosie Holland x Linus Perry

-Warnings: References to sex, language, typos, sad thoughts, attempted suicide, vomiting

-Words: 4.4K

A/n: Thank you so mucg guys with all the live support. Finally done, yay, with part 1

Chapter 17: Blood is Thicker than Water

Words: 4.4K

Four years had passed and Rosie was the only one to stick around. Everything had changed. You and Tom were currently on your trip around the world. Traveling everywhere from Cuba to Greece. Taking in sights of the world.

Embarking on journey covering 3 continents and 10 countries so far. You had already visited the Taj Mahal in India, the Amalfi Coast for some sun, and Iceland just for the blue lagoon hot springs. You and Tom were having the time of your lives, it being the perfect distraction from everything back home.

Rosie was running the mob along with her new right hand and consigliere, Linus. Rosie had been taking on the mantle as the new leader of the Holland mob. Picking up where Parker left off. Trying to do him justice. Tom had helped her learn the ropes but she always had that fiery personality desired for a mob persona.

After four years, Rosie learned to embrace her grief instead of shoving it away, she began to visit Parker’s grave more and more. Tried to every week, but life got in the way. She would bring a new set of flowers to freshen up the old ones.

She knew today would be especially hard, every year it was impossible. Rosie could barely get through the day. Today was her 20th birthday, marking 4 years of celebrating without Parker.

Rosie and Henry’s relationship had grown into one full of misery. Trapped in a loveless relationship, but he was still her best friend. With just one look he would know what she was thinking.

Over the past couple years, Henry has been so obsessed with keeping her safe that it was driving her mad. Rosie understood that Henry didn’t want to lose her like he lost Parker, but Rosie ran a mob and danger followed her everywhere. They started drifting apart when everything happened with the Holland family, creating unfixable cracks in their foundation.

Lately, Rosie had been feeling someone watching her every move. Following her whenever she would be downtown. Feeling a presence she hasn’t felt in a while. Constantly shivering in fear, feeling as though she was observed. From then on, every move she made was calculated and thought out.

When Rosie first took on the mantle, she cleaned house. Eliminating those whose loyalty would always lie with Tom. Trying to affirm the fact that she was so much more than just Tom’s daughter. She had let William go and few others because she brought in Linus.

Even after starting her new regime, things have been a bit off, lately. She hasn’t been sleeping through the night. She’d jolt out of sleep, drenched in a cold sweat. Henry would be startled awake as well by her movement as move to comfort her.

“Roo, you okay?” Henry asked groggily, yawning a bit. Rosie gasping to catch her breath. Her dreams were supposed to be an escape but now they were doing more harm than good. “I don’t know. I keep having these dreams about Parker. Like he was trying to tell me something,” Rosie said, gathering her bearings. It wasn’t everyday she was visited by her deceased twin brother. “From beyond the grave?…Rosie, he’s gone,” Henry pondered. “I know, I just can’t shake this feeling. That he is… he’s.”

“What? Still alive? Honey, we buried him. You cried over him. If he was still alive don’t you think we would’ve shown his face by now. Wilson and Carter are gone, they have been for awhile now,” Henry explained, hoping it would bring her some solace. Henry wasn’t blind to the change in her demeanor, she did open up to him about being followed everywhere she went. “I guess you’re right. But my dreams feel so real,” Rosie whispered, lying back down. Ready to drift off into a deep sleep. One not tainted by the memory of Parker. “Go, back to sleep baby.” Henry said, he knew they would be getting up in a few hours anyway. Tomorrow was a very big day. Henry knew he and Rosie had been drifting but he was all set to give her the best birthday ever.

Henry had bought tickets for you and Tom to fly in for her birthday and stay for awhile. This time of year was hard for all of you but it wasn’t fair to Rosie. The day that is supposed to be about her has always been shared but now no one dared acknowledge it. It was just a reminder of what had been lost.

“Good morning, beautiful. Happy birthday,” Henry whispered, peppering her face in kisses as the morning sun shone through the curtains.

“Thank you,” Rosie sighed. Every year was a challenge. It got a little better every year but she knew she would never fully accept his absence.

“What do you have planned today?” Henry inquired, he was always one for big gestures. He absolutely hated that she no longer enjoyed her birthday.

As a kid she loved the idea of turning a year older, getting to grow up and getting loads of presents of course. You always made the priority of throwing the most perfect themed parties for Rosie and Parker. One year they had a pirate themed pool party with a treasure hunt and another a circus/carnival theme with fair games and a petting zoo. You loved going all out for their birthday. Just spoiling them in general.

Rosie and Parker, also Tom, can’t forget about him, made life worth living. You and Tom did everything for your kids, never wanting them to feel an ounce of sadness.

But the times had changed, you were no longer the mother to a son. It was just Rosie and you thanked God everyday that she was still there but your heart will forever be scarred.

Scars take forever to heal, sometimes never. There will never be a day when you don’t miss Parker or he doesn’t cross your mind. Everything you did from the moment he died was for him, in one way or another. You knew the grief would never stop but you hoped Rosie would one day be able to move on with life.

“You know…” Rosie murmured. “Oh yeah, say hi for me,” Henry nodded along remembering Rosie was going to spend the day next to her better half, Parker.

Rosie proceeded to get dressed and ready for the day. She wore a tight grey dress showing off the perfect curves of her body. And a pair of black high heels to complete her power woman ensemble. “Henry, you aren’t throwing me a party right? I really don’t want one,” Rosie inquired. Rosie would prefer to have all birthdays pass and wash away but she knew Henry wouldn’t allow that. At the most she would have a nice dinner with him and watch a movie.

“You’ll just wait to find out,” Henry grinned cheekily. In reality he was throwing her surprise party to help her find the joy in her birthday again.

“Henry seriously, not this year,” Rosie announced. “It’s never any year. You haven’t celebrated in 3 years. You need to get over this.”

“Get over what? The death of my twin brother?” Rosie asked, astounded at Henry’s previous statement. The nerve he had, wow.

“Roo, I’m sorry,” Henry tried to apologize but Rosie left in a huff.

“Talk later, Linus is waiting for me,” Rosie yelled, already walking out of the room. “Linus, you ready to go?” Rosie said, as she found him drinking coffee in her kitchen. He sat at the bar, legs dangling off the chair as she came down. “Yes, Roo,” he said, a little out of breath from taking the awe of her beauty.

“Please don’t call me that around Henry… What’s on the agenda?” Rosie asked Linus as she poured herself her own cup of coffee.

“Well, Shaw owes you 3 million and the deadline you gave him expired,” Linus explained, he knew Rosie hated having things held over her head. She would prefer to get them out of the way as soon as possible.

“Well then, let’s go pay him a visit. I could use a drink. Afterwards, can you drop me off at the cemetery?” “Of course, Roo,” Linus said. Rosie huffed in response, rolling her eyes at the name. Linus loved to get a rise out of Rosie. Her remarks to his comments were just a sign of their playful banter.Rosie’s relationship with Linus was complicated. They were partners, most of the time.

Rosie had gone really dark over the past years. There were days where she refused to get out of bed. Sitting in bed wasting the entire day away. Henry would come home from work and try his best to comfort her but after Parker he was just as lost as her. They lived in the same house but not truly together. Not as lovers, maybe as roommates.

All Rosie could feel were thoughts of hopelessness, desolation, and misery. Never being able to find that light at the end of the tunnel. She didn’t deserve to find it, thinking she was the one who pushed you and Tom away. Blaming herself for Parker. All these feelings and Henry wasn’t there, too busy with his own life.

One day, Rosie had gotten real low. Couldn’t find a way out so she went to the gun room grabbed the closest pistol, a bottle of scotch, a glass and sat in Tom’s office. She rested on Tom’s chair trying to find the will to end it all. To point the pistol and pull the trigger.

It would be so easy, the flick of a finger. No more pain. She tried not to think about everything she was giving up. Never seeing you or Tom again, or Henry. Never loving him again, if they ever did manage to find their way back to each others arms. Never experiencing the things that made life worth living.

All her thoughts were halted as Linus barged in. He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the broken girl hold a gun unto her temple, its safety clicked off. The room was cold as an icy chill ran down his spine.

“Rosie, what are you doing!?!” Linus thundered, trying to stop her before she pulled the trigger. “I don’t know. I think I’m trying to end it all,” Rosie whispered as tears streamed down her face. Deep down she didn’t want to pull the trigger, she wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

“End what all? Your life?” Linus asked, trying to talk her off the metaphorical ledge. Something had to happen that pushed her to this point. Rosie had to be drowning and calling out for help but no one came. “No, it was never about killing myself. It was just about ending the pain and suffering,” she cried.

“Rosie, listen to me. There is so much more you have to live for. This will pass. Think about everything you are giving up.” Linus tried to appeal to the people she loved, you, Tom, and Henry. Losing Rosie would no longer make you a mother. How could Rosie take that away from you?

“I already have and it hasn’t, for 2 years. How do you know it will get any better?” Rosie begged for a true answer. She had been slumping around, letting the days pass her by as she stood silent, screaming non-vocally for help. Trapped in an asylum of misery. “I don’t. But I’ll be there to help you,” Linus exclaimed, giving her the truthful response she wanted. Rosie just needed to hear that she wasn’t alone in this world anymore. “No, you won’t. You’ll just leave like everyone else. Henry doesn’t love me anymore. My parents left. I’m all alone.” “Roo, you aren’t alone. Just hand me the gun and we can work this out. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be here,” Linus pleaded. That was the first time he had used that nickname. The name had been reserved for only Henry, Parker and you. In that moment Rosie saw someone she missed so dearly in Linus, Parker. Parker was the only person who was 100% there for her. He was there to talk her off the ledge. He was there at her weakest and in a split second he was standing in front of her.

Rosie gave in, removing the gun from her temple, clicking the safety one and handing it over. She slowly stood up, coming over to Linus and collapsed in his arms. Rosie whispered a small “I missed you” as he held the broken girl. He was the only one who could pull her out. Not Henry, god she wished it was Henry. Linus understood her pain and didn’t try to fix everything.

Henry was the opposite. Constantly worrying about Rosie and trying to find a solution for everything. Things from the slightest backache to feelings of hopelessness. Rosie didn’t need fixing she just needed to be heard and Linus made sure she was. At Harmon’s, the bar was quite empty. Just Shaw and a few of his men. Shaw has borrowed money from Rosie to clear of a few charges. The Holland name had some pull in the legal community. Dating back to Dom’s days but Tom mostly laid down roots.

Linus entered first, firing two shots to take out Shaw’s capos. “Jesus Christ,” yelled Shaw as his protection thudded against the floor.

Rosie followed Linus in, making her presence known, “Shaw, you know I’m not a fan of people not staying true to their word. Do you have my money?”

“Rosie, doll. I paid you in full already. If this just your sad attempt to stir something up we can work this out another time. Shoo, let me finish my drink,” Shaw snickered. “Shaw, I know your games. You have 3 minutes to transfer my money right now. One for each million. I have Linus checking for a deposit of 3 million, make this simple and do it,” Rosie stated with an unchanging expression. “I need more time, that’s not enough. It’s all in separate accounts,” Shaw asserted, his voice starting to waver as he stared down the barrel of her pistol. “Well then, I’d hurry if I were you. Here’s your phone. Just wire the money… Starting now,” Rosie exclaimed as Linus devoted his stare to watch. Glancing at the seconds tick away.

“Fine, I’m going,” Shaw screamed, about to crack under the pressure.

“2 minutes left,” Linus chimed in. “Okay, I’m just inputing the dollar amount, it’s a lot of zeros.” Shaw tried to explain. He was about to lose his life because he was slow.

“50 secs.”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6—“

“I’m done,” Shaw said, letting out the breath he was holding.

“That was fast but not fast enough,” Rosie whispered raising her gun square to the back of his head. Her finger slipped to the trigger and fired a shot.

BANG

“Wow, I didn’t think you actually kill him,” Linus said, impressed by her ruthlessness.

“He was getting on my nerves, besides he will never borrow money from me again if he is dead,” Rosie chuckled. “You know I found that really hot,” Linus whispered in her ear. “You always do.” Rosie grinned at his advances, trying to pull her close to his chest. “Hey, this can’t keep happening.”

“Oh, come on. You say that every time. I can’t hide my feelings for you anymore.”

“Well, you are going to have to. I was clear about what this was. So I’m going to ask you this once more time, what do you want?” “I want you.” “Well you can have me in the bathroom in 2 minutes.” “Roo, you’re too good to me,” Linus smirked, following her as she glided to the restroom.

Everything lasted about 30 mins. They were in and out in a flash. The bar now smelled of sex and a dead bodies. Linus was the first to finish, coming out of the bathroom looking disheveled as hell. Sporting the same juts had a quickie look. Linus went to pull the car around after fixing his hair in the mirror.

Linus would never be Henry and that was a good thing, Linus was different. By no circumstances was Rosie in love with Linus or will ever be in love with him, he was merely a distraction. Rosie knew her relationship with him was wrong but he made her feel alive once more.

Rosie emerged from bathroom breathing heavy, almost gasping for air, with sweat glistening on her chest. She straightened out her dress as combed down her hair. Stepping out of the doorway, the smell of a fresh rotting body hit her.

Rosie immediately turned around and lunged for the toilet. She had been in the business for 3 years and never before had her body reacted this way. She hurled into the toilet for a good ten minutes. Eventually bringing her head out of the toilet bowl to wipe off her mouth. The air was now coupled with sex, dead bodies and vomit. She was clueless to what forced her to keep her head in a toilet bowl.

After her nausea spell passed her, she had Linus drop her off near the cemetery. “Oh, you can drop me off here. I need something from the pharmacy anyways,”Rosie informed Linus. She was planning on picking up something for her stomach, it was very unlikely for her to throw up suddenly.

“Ok, Roo. Do you need a ride home?” Linus questioned.

“No, Jared is supposed to pick me up. Thank you,” Rosie exclaimed, getting out of the car. “Alright. Happy birthday by the way. Can I have a kiss goodbye?” “Thank you and no. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah for the party,” Linus called out slowly driving away. “Wait! What did you say?” Rosie remarked but he was already long gone.

Rosie was mentally kicking herself, she didn’t have the willpower to deal with a party tonight. She specifically told Henry, not to throw one but since when did he listen to her.

Their road to ultimately heartbreak was a two way street. Both of them had done something to warrant the loveless relationship. Rosie admitted to herself, that she eventually did stop trying. She stopped constantly asking if Henry wanted to go out for dinner and what time he would be home. Rosie prefers to blame Henry but in reality, she was then one who let go first.

Rosie stopped showing him love, too distraught by his every move because it was a constant reminder her brother wasn’t there anymore. Henry would try to work him into every little conversation, remembering Parker in everything. It grew too much for Rosie. Rosie had never been one for confronting her feelings, preferring to shove them down but how could she, when Henry would never shut up about Parker.

Parker was the main reason a wedge had been driven between them, but she wouldn’t dream of blaming her dead brother. Who couldn’t even defend himself. Rosie needed a reset after Parker but Henry was stuck living in the past.

Rosie was ready to start her life with Henry after graduation but he couldn’t let go. After a while, Rosie became just like him. Stuck drifting into a void of pure sadness. Rosie couldn’t let go, along with Henry. Their lives went in different directions, Rosie was blossoming into a ruthless leader who would only act soft around Parker, vowing to visit his grave everyday. And Henry got left behind at some point, not seeing how he fit in her life anymore.

In the pharmacy she scanned the aisles for some sort of quick remedy. If Henry was throwing her a surprise party, one she specifically asked not for. Rosie didn’t have days to recuperate, maybe a few hours.

She found the largest bottle of Pepto-Bismol and stopped by the card aisle. Carefully grasping a birthday card for her favorite person. One that was funny yet endearing. Parker was addicted to all the corned jokes she would crack. She made her way to the register. In front of her stood a little old woman, she wore a purple floral dress and her white stained hair was pulled into a clip.

“Just this for you sweetie? Oh, who’s birthday is it?” Asked the little lady, referring to the birthday card Rosie grabbed for Parker.

“My brother’s and um, could I also get this,” Rosie responded as her eyes glanced below her. Skimming over the candy bars, gum packets and eventually landing on a pregnancy test. Come to think of it, Rosie was late about a week and a half.

“Of course, honey. Would you like to use the restroom?” Queried the lady. Rosie nodded in response. She finished paying and quickly made her way to the restroom. Following the directions on the box carefully, she needed to be a hundred percent sure, before she told anyone.

Right around the corner was the cemetery. She glided through iron gates, walking across the cobble stone path before she came upon the place she loved most in the world. The place where she would hold nothing back, spilling everything to him.

Life of a mob boss was dangerous but things started to seem eerie for Rosie. She would feel weird presences or someone watching her at eerie times. The same feeling plagued her at the cemetery, today. She knelt down to the headstone, engraved in it read “Here Lies Parker Jackson Holland, Taken from us too soon, a son, a brother, and a friend.”

“Hey, P. You probably get tired of me visiting you. Everyday I’m here and sometimes I think I do it for my benefit more than yours. I hope that wherever you are, you are happy and most likely you are with Charlotte. I’m happy for you, Parker. No matter how much I wish you were here with me, I know that you are happy that you escaped this life. Happy 20th birthday.” Rosie whispered, fixing the flowers that began to wilt from yesterday.

“I have some really amazing news to share with you, but it will have to wait till next time. You can’t be the first person I tell, I’m sorry. He deserves to know before you…. Oh my god, you’ll never believe what happened at work…”

This is the one thing that brought Rosie solace. She persistently blames herself for that fateful night 3 years ago. Rosie would spend hours kneeling next to his headstone. She would tell him about her life and read off the postcards you and Tom sent from your travels. Talking to him as if he was still there.

Rosie glanced at her watch, it was half past five and she hadn’t even called Jared yet to pick her up. “I’m sorry P, I gotta go. Henry, god love him but, that bastard is throwing me a birthday party. I guess I should at least make an appearance. I’ll see you tomorrow, I love you.” Rosie said, walking towards the parking lot.

She stood under the gate for ten minutes waiting for Jared to arrive and escort her home. The weather completely shifted as the sun set around her. The once blue sky changed to one painted with vibrant yellows and pinks. The sky was a sight not to be missed but she could do without the freezing winds that accompanied.

A chill ran down her spine as she waited in the darkness. Feeling a sensation that only warranted panic. Rosie felt someone watching her once again. Maybe from a far or up close, but she definitely wasn’t alone. It was silly that she let feelings like those get to her. She was a mob boss for god sakes, scaring even the most menacing of men into submission.

Rosie eyes started darting everywhere a noise left. In the corner of her eye she caught a figure drenched in shadows approaching. She tried to scramble for her gun, but soon realized she left it in Linus’s car.

The stranger kept making advances and managed to get to her. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a cloth to her mouth. Causing her to be consumed in darkness as her body grew limp.

Back at the manor, Henry was setting everything up perfectly. His mission was to make Rosie love her birthday once more. While Henry was working hard at hanging the birthday banner and decorating every corner with balloons, Linus was no help at all. Lounging on the couch and finishing a beer.

“So are you going to pick up Rosie and get off your ass?” Henry barked, pulling the coffee out from under Linus, causing him to spill his beer.

“Seriously, dude. What’s your problem?” Linus snapped.

“My problem is my girlfriend isn’t here. Aren’t you supposed to pick her up?” “No, Jared is.” “Linus, Jared is here. He has been for a few hours. Where is she?” Henry questioned, starting to worry. “I don’t know. Last, I left her at the cemetery.” “Henry! It’s so good to see you,” you cheered as Tom and you walked in. Hugging Henry after not seeing him for awhile. It still pained you to visit, traveling was the perfect distraction.

“Hope you have been taking care of yourself, son. Where’s Rosie?” Tom questioned. “Yeah, I’ve been good. At the moment, I don’t know where she is. She’s missing,” Henry concluded. You and Tom stood completely still as you processed the news. It wasn’t everyday that your daughter would disappear into thin air, but her job did keep her life in danger.Rosie missing was uncommon. It had happened once or twice in the past but that was 3 years ago. So much had changed, for the better. Yet, you were once again in the same place, in the house you left because everything was too familiar. Rosie missing was all too familiar.

Rosie came to. Opening her eyes to a place she chose to forget. For all she knew it was an exact replica. Warehouses riddled all of London’s ports, she could be anywhere.

“Text your driver and tell him Henry picked you up for a special birthday dinner,” Rosie’s kidnapper barked, thrusting a phone in front of her.

“Really? You kidnapped me? After 3 years of being leader of London’s most feared mob, it’s like been there done that. Do you want money or something? I have a party to get to.” Rosie quipped, annoyed with they man’s pursuits.

“Oh, I know. I believe happy birthday is granted. 20 years is a milestone.”

“Whatever, I don’t really like my birthday anyway.”

“Wanna talk about it?” The stranger pestered on. Rosie had learned lesson from the last time she was restrained to chair, rope around her wrists and ankles, ceasing blood flow. This time it was zip ties, a little basic for any mobster she has had a run with.

“No. I want you to let me go. Seriously, what do you want? I don’t think you know who I am. Or who my father is,” Rosie asserted.

“A moment alone together is all I ask and I know exactly who you are and who your dad is. Correction, who our dad is.”

“Parker.”

A/n: Finally the end. Alright, I'm going to bed. There is no set schedule for the sequel series, I'm just going to post a chapter when I finish writing it. Let me know if you like to be tagged in the sequel chapters.

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Looking Through A Window (7)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Sorry for the delay! I either have my shit together in real life or fandom life, but never both at the same time lol. Anyway, I got endless joy from reading all your reactions to last chapter’s clifhanger (sorry not sorry). I didn’t respond to comments because I don’t trust myself not to spoil anything, but just know that I appreciate every single one of your theories. Also, many of you were at least somewhat correct. (Yikes am I becoming predictable?? Gotta fix that.) This chapter ends at a good stopping point, so I’m going to switch gears and write a couple chapters of other fics (which I encourage you to read!!) before coming back to this. But fear not! I have big plans for the future of this fic, and I’ll send you all down the theory rabbit hole soon enough. xoxo

*****

The world narrows until Mac is only aware of two things: his racing heart and the fact that Riley is gone. 

The blood is fresh, but there’s no sign of a struggle—no sign of anything, really. The windows are locked and unbroken, the bedroom door is half-closed the way it always is. Not a single thing is out of place…except for Riley. 

So, where the hell is she? 

His body goes taut as the worst case scenario plays in his mind. Please don’t be gone, Mac silently begs. Please. 

The apartment is quiet. Too quiet. So when the shower turns on with a loud thunk, Mac flinches. Hard. Without thinking, he scrambles out of bed and lunges for the bathroom door. 

As he bursts through the door, Mac’s awareness shifts to three things: Riley is alive, she’s naked, and she’s screaming. 

“Mac!” She hisses, glaring over her shoulder. If looks could kill, he’d be very, very dead by now. At least her back is to him. “What the hell?” 

Mac barely hears her over the roaring in his ears. He scans her naked body, trying and failing to be professional as he scans for injuries. 

His eyes land on the blood smeared between her thighs, then the thin stream rolling down the inside of her knee. As understanding dawns on him, Mac holds out his own blood-covered hand in silent explanation. 

Riley winces. “Sorry about the blood.” 

Mac still feels a little disconnected from his body when he says, “I was afraid you were dead.”

Embarrassment floods Riley’s face. She begs,“Can we please finish this conversation when I’m not naked and bleeding all over the floor?” Mac’s gaze automatically flicks to the drops of blood between her feet, but he doesn’t move. His limbs are still frozen in place, the way they’ve been since he found her. “Get out!” Riley snaps. 

His own embarrassment finally taking hold, Mac stumbles backward, tripping over the door frame on his way out. 

While Riley showers, Mac busies himself by stripping the bed and washing the sheets and blankets. Not just because it needs to be done, but because it’s easier to process emotions when his hands are busy. It feels like he just experienced the entire spectrum of human emotion in the span of three minutes, and now all these untethered feelings are floating around in his head. As he works, Mac examines them one by one. 

He woke up this morning wanting to cuddle with Riley. Not just wanting to, but comfortable enough to act on that desire. 

When his hand landed in the blood, his brain immediately jumped to the worst case scenario. He is deeply afraid of said scenario. 

Then panic set in, as he desperately tried to prove himself wrong. 

Followed by relief at finding Riley and learning the blood was not from an injury, but from a normal bodily function. 

Then embarrassment, because he freaked out and barged in on her over something he could’ve deduced for himself if only he’d just stopped to think. He’s supposed to be smart, so why couldn’t that big brain of his, as Jack would say, figure this out? 

The answer to that question, at least, comes easily: Because it’s Riley, and he doesn’t always think with his head when it comes to her. 

For example, while he’s mortified at seeing her naked, a part of him wishes she’d been facing the other direction. 

Mac starts the washing machine and decides to do the mature thing and hide in the kitchen for the entire foreseeable future. He spies Harley lying on the couch, gazing out a window. “And where were you for all of this?” he asks. “A heads-up would’ve been nice.” 

Harley stares at him for a few seconds before resuming her vigil, and Mac hears the message, loud and clear: You’re on your own. 

When Riley still hasn’t emerged from the bedroom long after the shower turned off, Mac suspects that she’s hiding too. He doesn’t blame her. 

It’s late morning by the time the laundry is finished, and Mac can’t hide any longer. Clutching the still-warm sheets and blankets to his chest, he cautiously ventures into the bedroom. Riley is lying on the bed with her knees tucked up to her chin, and a pang of sympathy echoes in Mac’s chest. Her eyes are closed, but Mac doubts that she’s actually asleep. 

Dropping the sheets on the floor, he asks, “Are you alive?” 

Riley groans. “No.” 

“Could you please go die on the couch then, so I can make the bed?” She groans again and mumbles something incoherent. “Also you’ll feel better if you eat something.” 

“No I won’t.” She sounds like a whining toddler, and Mac has to stifle a snort. Still, a bit of the awkwardness dissipates. But only a bit. 

“Yes you will. I know you, Miss Hangry.” 

“I’m not hangry.” 

“Says the one who skipped breakfast.” 

“I was hiding from you.” 

“So was I,” Mac confesses. Riley cracks a single eye open at that, just in time to see his cheeks heat. “Trust me, I am way more embarrassed than you.” 

It takes him a second to notice that she’s blushing too. “Wanna bet?” 

Mac starts putting the fitted sheet on the unoccupied side of the mattress. “I didn’t see anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Nothing he hasn’t seen before, anyway, but Mac wisely decides to keep that part to himself. “Victoria’s secret is still a secret,” he adds with a wink. 

Riley rolls her eyes. “You did not just say that.” 

“Made you laugh, didn’t it?” Mac gives her a shit-eating grin, and despite her best attempt at hiding it, amusement slips through the cracks in Riley’s unimpressed facade. 

“Whatever. We don’t have to do anything today, do we?” Mac raises his brow at the question. For all the years he’s known Riley, she’s always been more of a ‘suck it up’ kind of person, not a ‘stay in bed’ person. So her question is surprising, if not mildly concerning. 

“Nope.” He pauses. “Are you okay? This isn’t like you.” 

Riley rolls onto her back. “Dude, it feels like someone took a cheese grater to my insides.” 

Mac winces at the mental image. “Ouch.” 

She pauses, as if contemplating her next words before she says them. “I got a new IUD a couple months ago, and this one makes my cramps way worse. I used to be able to ignore them, but this sucks.” 

Not knowing how to reply to that, he squeezes Riley’s ankle in a way he hopes is reassuring. Mac flicks his gaze up to meet hers and finds Riley already looking at him. Her gaze is warm and steady, but Mac can see hints of pain clouding her dark eyes. He thinks it isn’t fair that her body turns on her like this. 

"I'm getting back in bed the second you're done making it," she warns. 

"Go right ahead." 

Riley wanders into the kitchen, and, true to her word, reappears right when Mac finishes smoothing down the comforter, with Harley at her heels. To Mac's surprise, Harley jumps on the bed, waits for Riley to get situated, and then tucks herself into Riley's side. A smile blooms on his face. Riley puts an arm around Harley, pulling the dog into her stomach before moving to scratch her head. When Harley licks Riley’s face in return, Mac suddenly gets the feeling he's watching something private. 

Satisfied that Riley is in capable hands, Mac leaves without another word.

*****

Beneath the weathered wooden conference table, Harley’s head rests on Mac’s foot as she dozes through the Patriots’ council meeting. When they arrived, no one looked more put off by their presence than Conrad, but, true to his word, Ethan welcomed Mac and Riley with open arms and encouraged their participation. A murmur of dissent snaked through the room, but no one openly questioned Ethan’s decision to include them. 

Twenty minutes in, Mac would rather be anywhere but here. The “meeting” so far has been very little business and mostly rehashing some fishing trip a few of the guys went on over the weekend. Mac is holding out hope that it won’t be a complete waste of his time, but said hope dwindles each time someone exaggerates about the size of a fish. 

There’s nothing interesting to look at in the room, save for Riley. No art, no plants, no wall of guns. Not even a clock. Just drab gray walls with no windows. And he doesn’t dare study any of the men for longer than a second or two each. Making an enemy is as easy as looking at someone the wrong way, and Mac has no desire to antagonize the other members of the Patriots…at least not yet. 

Extricating his foot from beneath Harley’s head, he’s just about to make an excuse about needing to use the restroom when Ethan’s phone rings. After quickly checking it, Ethan excuses himself from the meeting with a curt nod to Conrad. Mac understands the look; he’s given and received it countless times himself, after all. Permission to continue without him. Because despite his tendency to toe the line, Conrad is still Ethan’s trusted lieutenant. The exchange is subtle, practiced, and apparently insignificant to the other men at the table, who are somehow still talking about fish. 

When the storytelling finally lulls, Conrad clears his throat. "Let's start with recruitment. Report." No nonsense, right to the point. Maybe he’s tired of the fish conversation too. 

As Conrad steers the conversation through the various items on the agenda, Mac realizes two things. 

One, the Patriots are far more organized than he originally made them out to be. This is no grassroots startup, and their plans go much deeper than protests and parking lot shootings. 

Two, Conrad is careful not to let anyone share too much information, instead asking everyone to give their detailed reports in individual meetings. And it's more than just trying to keep him and Riley in the dark. It's almost as if…almost as if Conrad doesn't want anyone to see the big picture besides himself. 

Mac decides to take his theory for a test drive. "I know I'm new here," he says, "but why have everyone meet with you a second time individually instead of sharing their full reports now? Wouldn't that be a better use of time?" 

Conrad sneers. "On the contrary, boy, why would I waste everyone's time making them listen to information they don't need to know?" 

It takes every ounce of Mac’s self control not to roll his eyes. 

Beneath the table, Riley grips his knee, nails digging in through his khakis. Mac wants to tell her that he’s thinking the same thing she is, but he can’t. The best he can settle for is a brief touch on her arm before needing to do something with his hands to distract himself from the way his skin burns under her touch. He elects to drum his fingers on the table, mostly to push Conrad’s buttons even further. 

If Conrad’s furrowed brow is any indication, it works. 

“Do you mind?” Conrad says with a pointed glare at Mac’s hand. 

Feigning ignorance, Mac replies, “Mind about what?” 

“The tapping.” 

“Oh!” Mac makes a show of sliding his gaze down to his hand before flattening his palm against the table. “My bad.” 

Looking none too pleased, Conrad moves on, but to Mac’s surprise, the man sitting beside him leans in to whisper, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. He's not the one to piss off." His words are tinged with genuine concern, and under different circumstances, Mac would appreciate the advice. 

"He's a man," Mac whispers back, "just like everyone else at this table." Minus Riley, of course. 

The man presses on. "The previous occupant of your seat was shot point blank for asking too many questions." Mac's brows raise at that. "You're sitting in a dead man's chair." 

Mac pockets that little detail gratefully, but he hesitates before ultimately heeding the man's warning. He fiddles with the button on his sleeve, impatiently waiting for the meeting to end so he can share his theory with Riley. 

What Mac doesn't anticipate is Riley beating him to it, pulling him aside before they're even back in the car. "Conrad's compartmentalizing information," she says in a quiet, confident tone. 

They’re too exposed to be having this conversation. Mac nervously checks for eavesdroppers, but doesn’t spot any. Deeming it safe for now, he replies, "Yeah I thought so too." 

"He's made himself essential. No one else knows how everything works." Riley pauses, eyes catching on something over his shoulder. Barely audibly, she adds, "An asshole and a control freak." He doesn’t need to turn around to know she’s looking at Conrad, not when she has a white-knuckled grip on Harley’s leash. 

"So if we eliminate him…" 

Riley nods in understanding. He’s controlling everything in an attempt to rise through the rankings and seize power. So if they eliminate Conrad, the whole organization may very well come tumbling down in his wake. 

Now they just have to figure out how the hell to accomplish that. 

"What if we help him?" Riley suggests, reading Mac’s mind. 

"What?" 

"We've spent all this time looking for the weakest link, but maybe…maybe we need to attach ourselves to the strongest one." A stray curl falls in Riley's face, and as she brushes it behind her ear, Mac absentmindedly wishes his fingers were brushing it back instead. Riley continues, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think we should help him become more powerful than he already is. That way, we can do as much damage as possible when we take him out." 

A man they don't know walks by, and Mac nods in greeting. Waiting for the man to move out of earshot, Mac drops to one knee, giving Harley a good scratch. She wags her tail and opens her mouth in a smile, clearly enjoying the attention. When the coast is clear again, Mac says, "You just made this op so much longer, but I think you're right." 

Riley snorts. "What, is there somewhere else you need to be?" 

Gazing up at the woman before him, the answer is obvious. Not unless you're coming with me. 

*****

In the gray hour before dawn crests over the world, Mac wakes to something tickling his nose. He exhales sharply, trying to blow it away, but the tickle persists.

His face is pressed into the nape of Riley's neck, and a deep inhale causes a few strands of her hair to go up his nostrils. Reaching up to brush Riley’s hair out of his face, he hesitates right before his calloused fingers brush her skin, afraid that even the barest touch will shatter the moment. As soon as Riley wakes, he'll have to hide behind his mask of indifference, and Mac isn't ready to do that yet. 

For as long as he dares, Mac allows himself to imagine what it would be like to wake up with Riley for real, in his own home. He sees her curled in his bed, sheets pulled up to her chin, hears the soft, steady cadence of her breathing, smells the lingering traces of perfume on her skin. 

Riley stirs in his arms, and the vision blurs, moving out of reach. Mac grasps for it, but it evaporates into nothingness as she settles back against him. 

He shifts his focus to the very real sensation of Riley’s body tucked into his. Her back to his chest, his leg slotted between hers, her ass pressed against his—

Shit. 

Mac jerks backward, trying to put as much space between them as possible before Riley wakes and realizes just what she scooted back against. 

Except, in his haste, Mac doesn’t realize there’s a third party present until his foot slams into the small, warm body lying at the foot of the bed. Guilt washes over him at Harley’s ensuing yelp. 

Awake, Riley mumbles, “Did you just kick the dog?” 

“It was an accident!” Mac insists, sitting up. He turns his attention to Harley. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. You can come back if you want.” He pats the bed in a way he hopes is reassuring, but Harley merely eyes him with suspicion before slinking out of the room. 

“I can’t believe you kicked the dog,” Riley says, still half-asleep. “She finally slept with us, and you betrayed her.” 

“I told you it was an accident!” 

“Betrayal.” 

Mac rakes a hand through his hair. “You’re never going to let this go, are you?” 

“Nope.” Riley sighs, rolling back to her side of the bed, and Mac isn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. Or maybe a little bit of both. “You better go apologize.” 

Mac scoffs. “And let you take over the entire bed while I’m gone? I don’t think so.” 

And there it is. The closest they’ve come to acknowledging the evolution of their bed-sharing habits. Particularly the newfound lack of sticking to their respective sides. If he’s being honest with himself, Mac doesn’t know where to go from here. He wants to see it as a sign of things changing between them. Obviously Riley is aware of their precarious positioning, but based on her casual relocation, she doesn’t see this any differently than the dozens of times they’ve slept squished in a small space together in the past. Whether she’s aware of the other thing, she doesn’t let on. 

“Your funeral,” Riley says, pulling Mac out of his head. 

Right. 

The dog. 

The dog whose forgiveness he needs to earn via extra breakfast. Maybe extra dinner too. 

Sighing, Mac goes after her, cursing his inability to get things right with either of the females in this house. 

.

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The Tomb (Dabi x f!Reader) - Part Five

A/N: Thank you guys so much for all of the love and feedback. I really appreciate it, and a big thank you to @iiashleysykes for proofreading for me. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!

WARNINGS: NSFW, contains smut

TAGLIST: @mikasackrmann @missalicebaskerville @liitlesushi @bonemarroww @jamaisvusbitch @winchescumberholland @mira-mirach @babayaga67 @iiashleysykes @orenjineki @badbitchfor2dmen

You stayed in the bath, soaking together for a while, until finally you decided it was time to actually bathe. You grabbed your wash cloth and lathered it with soap before turning to Dabi. Your hands were just as gentle as when you had rinsed the dirt from his skin, your touch light as a feather. You hummed happily, and Dabi smiled while watching you.

When you finished, you rinsed him, and Dabi sat back enjoying the attention. You knew he wasn’t fragile, but you felt compelled to care for him. Knowing the life he had led, all that he had endured, drove you to want to give him moments he could cherish. You didn’t know how everything would turn out, it was beyond your control, but right now while you had him here with you, you could give him this.

When you finished with him, you started on yourself as Dabi watched you with hungry eyes.

Your skin glistened and your face was so serene. He watched your hands roam across your body, leaving a trail of suds behind. He thought you were beautiful. You turned towards him with a smile, your bright eyes sparkling in the dim light. He couldn’t stop himself when his hands reached toward you. His feelings were torn between the overwhelming warmth he felt when he looked at you and the twisted desire that bloomed in his chest.

He didn’t know what to do with the tenderness you stirred in him, so he acted on his lust instead. He grabbed you, bending you over onto your hands and knees in the water and wasted no time in burying himself inside of you. His body leaned over yours, bracing himself with a palm on the wall as he thrust hard and deep.

Dabi was rough and dominating, the urge to own and ruin you taking a hold of him. His hand wrapped in your hair as he pushed your torso down, head under the water as he rammed into you. The suddenness and brief fear left your body tingling. Dabi pulled you back up and pushed you against the wall, water cascading down your body as you gasped for breath, the side of your face against cool tile. You pleaded for more, rolling your hips to try and impale yourself on him further. His chest pressed to your back as he whispered in your ear.

He told you that you were his, how you belonged to him and that he’d never let you go. How you take his seed so well, and that he would keep giving it to you until you were ready to give birth. How you were so needy for him, begging for his cock. That you wouldn’t be able to walk out of this bathroom when he was done with you.

You weren’t sure what part had pushed you to so close to your climax, but your orgasm hit hard and fast as he began pounding himself back into you.

He stilled and pulled you back with him, careful so he could remain within you while you sat in his lap.

He reached around with both of his hands, pulling your legs open farther so he could play with you breasts and pinch your clit. You threw your head back into his shoulder, a loud moan leaving you. Your hips were squirming and twitching, sensitive from overstimulation. He picked you up, his forearms placed beneath your spread thighs, and twisted your body to face the full length mirror hanging on the back of the bathroom door as he slowly stood.

Your eyes met his in your reflection before they trailed down your bodies. He tilted you back as he started to move, and you were transfixed watching his length disappear in you. You saw your flushed face and how your breasts bounced. Your hands wrapped behind you, around his neck. Your eyes fell closed when the pleasure got too intense, but he traced his tongue along your jaw and then spoke, his voice stern.

“Eyes open, doll. Watch me.”

You did as you were told, lifting your heavy eyelids and keeping your gaze on Dabi. You were vaguely aware of your voice crying out, but you were more focused on the soft grunts that Dabi exhaled in your ear. He brought you to another orgasm, and then filled you as you clamped down on him.

His arms shook under you, and slowly Dabi backed up to slide down the wall of the shower, letting you rest against him.

He kissed along your neck, leaving his marks upon your skin as he went. He pulled back and looked you over. Your damp hair was tangled, indents from his teeth still lingered on your throat, and your hips were bruised from his grip. Your eyes were shut and your chest rose and fell rapidly, still trying to catch your breath.

You were barely conscious, completely exhausted, and slouched in his hold, but all Dabi could think was how perfect you were.

Your legs were weak, and you were far too tired to stand, so he carried you to your bed, laying on the cot beside you.

You were sound asleep by the time you touched the mattress. His fingers traced down the side of your face, across your lips and down your chin. They made their way down your neck, and over your breast, giving a light flick to your nipple as they passed. You moaned as your legs slightly parted, and he laughed quietly to himself. You truly were his. Even in your sleep, you were responsive to his touch.

His fingers trailed down your stomach and between your lips. His eyes were dark as he grinned. You were still so wet, ready to take him again.

He climbed over you and lined himself up, slowly pushing himself inside as he lifted your legs. You whined in your sleep, your body sore, but he didn’t notice, too entranced with how it felt to watch himself push inside of you. Once he was all the way in, he rocked his hips slowly, his hands reaching forward to abuse your nipples until they were a bright red. He leaned down to put one in his mouth while the other was twisted and pulled between his fingers. His lips moved, traveling across to lay his claim on your body as much as he could.

He leaned back and admired the hickeys that now decorated the skin of your breasts. Soft whimpers left you as your hips moved on their own, grinding against him. His hand moving to rub your clit as he picked up speed.

Dabi kept on until finally he released in you again, his hand gently rubbing your stomach after. The thoughts of you carrying his child still plaguing his mind. He found it funny, something that he had never wanted, that had never even been a thought, was now one of his strongest desires. He let his mind wander for a little while longer, before he finally joined you in dreaming, succumbing to his own exhaustion.

You woke up to the sun shining directly onto your face and you groaned, from both the brightness as well as your body aching. You immediately noticed the marking covering your breasts, and a few more trailing down your stomach and thighs. You smiled and shook your head before looking to the side to see Dabi eyes still closed and his arm wound around you.

“Pervert.” You whispered groggily while stroking the hair back from his forehead, and then decided to rest a little longer as you let yourself drift back to sleep in his arms.

__________________________________________

You went back to work after that weekend, and Dabi was always at the apartment waiting for you to get home.

You finished with his tomb before the end of the season, and you were finally paid beyond the general funding.

It was as exciting as it was sad. On one hand, you had completed your project and now you could discover something new, but on the other hand, you always felt as if you left a piece of yourself behind with each finished job. This time especially, as Dabi’s tomb has been more than a piece of the past, it had been a new beginning.

On the final day you had access, you cleaned up and helped close off the tomb. Everyone else was turning in, leaving for the last time. You stayed behind waiting, and when you were alone, you added your name to the wall in hopes that it would be enough to lead you back here one day. Even if it didn’t, you figured it would be an amazing story to have, even if it was one you could never tell.

__________________________________________

After two seasons of working nonstop, you honestly were ready for some time off. Christmas was approaching, and usually you stopped home first and then spent the rest of your time elsewhere, just traveling and relaxing, before your work began again.

You talked it over with Dabi, and he agreed to go to your home with you, though he was apprehensive about eventually meeting your family. You assured him that it would be fine, though.

Your mother had been asking for years when you would settle down and bring home a man, this was the year you finally did. You figured she wouldn’t care who it was at this point, though you didn’t really think she would mind Dabi anyways. Your step father was missing a leg, so you figured they’d be sympathetic to his scars and could easily look past them. Your father was the one that you were on the fence about, but you couldn’t imagine him being rude, though you were sure he would have his own opinions.

A week later and you were boarded on a plane. Dabi was shaken at first, almost looking ill when he experienced the turbulence. You had pushed him to take the window seat, and once you were sailing smoothly through the air, he stared in awe at the ground far below you, his hand never leaving yours.

The world was so different now, so advanced. He couldn’t believe it. He never dreamed that he would one day be above the clouds.

You had tried to convince Dabi to get some rest, but he was adamant about staying awake, not wanting to miss anything. You smiled fondly at him, his eyes were bright with excitement as he looked between you and the world outside his window. Finally, the plane landed and you brought him to a cafe in the airport. You figured you could both grab a bite to eat while you waited for the cab you had called to arrive.

The cab came quick enough, and after you loaded your bags, you were off on the hour long drive it took to get back home. Both you and Dabi fell asleep, only to wake up as you pulled into your drive.

You paid the fare and grabbed your things while Dabi stood, his jaw open in disbelief. Your house was so big. He wondered for a moment if you were perhaps royalty, but then shook the thought from his mind as he remembered you explaining that your job paid well and that times were very different now.

You spent most of your time away, and as you were somewhat recognized in the world of archeology, you brought home a decent profit. It also helped that while you were off working, you tried to save as much as you were able.

He walked in the front door and looked at the high ceilings, the beautiful wooden floors, and all of your plush furniture. He thought back to his home in the afterlife and felt a wave of relief that your home was much nicer than his.

He didn’t mind his home, it was where he had grown up, where he and his siblings had been left, but he knew it wasn’t anything special. He had chosen it, putting it in the scenes of his tomb so it would be there with him when he died, but part of him always regretted it, wishing he had given himself a bit more. His home served as a reminder, who he was and where he came from, but he was more than willing to accept living with you. Your home was nice, it was warm and inviting. He welcomed the change.

You gave him a tour and he seemed happy with where he would be living. When you finally reached your room, he was quick to push inside and collapse on your bed.

You laughed, before making your way over to join him. You laid with your head on his chest as he hummed content.

Sleep was quick to start creeping up on you, and you snuggled into him further as you drifted off.

Dabi held you close, placing a kiss to your head and relaxed back into your pillows. He had known of his plans for a while now, but he had never expected you to be a part of this. A part of him.

When you had first shown up in the tomb, he had figured you would be a pawn to him, and that he would use you and then carry on. But somewhere in the time he had spent with you, you had grown on him. You mattered to him. You became his, and as he let himself think on it, he knew he was yours as well.

His mind finally let him join you in sleep, and that night he dreamt only of your face.

__________________________________________

The next day, Dabi helped you with unpacking. He didn’t have a lot to bring with him, so he finished putting his things where you had directed him rather quickly. When he opened one of your suitcases, he saw a small and battered bag, barely tied shut with a black ribbon.

“Hey doll, what’s this?” Dabi called out, inspecting the pouch in his hand. You walked up behind him to look.

“Oh! I found that when I was searching for your body. It was stuck in the cliff side, and I forgot to ask you about it. I brought it back to see if I could have it examined, it looks like it has bones from a finger inside of it.” You explained and Dabi stiffened. When you felt his body tense, your eyes shot to his face.

“Why? What’s wrong?” You asked, anxiously.

Dabi walked to your dresser and dumped the contents of the bag onto it. He inspected the bones and gems.

You followed, peering at everything laid out, noticing Dabi flip the bag inside out. There were symbols woven into the liner inside, and they matched those that you had found in his tomb.

“Does this have something to do with the seals?” You asked.

“It’s a curse.” He said, his tone dark.

“A curse!?” You began to panic. “What do you mean a curse?”

“Calm down.” He grunted in frustration, but his glare never left the pile in front of him. You tried to steady your now racing heart.

“Do you know anything about it?” You said in a hushed tone.

“Maybe. Can you tell anything about the bones?”

You picked them up, looking them over and laying them in their proper shape.

“Hmm. It looks like an adult index finger, I can’t be certain though.” You said and Dabi groaned, rubbing his hand through his hair in anger.

“Just perfect.” He spat.

“What does it mean?” You asked.

“It means someone hated me enough to chop off their finger and shove it inside a bag.” He grumbled, turning from the dresser to make his way to your bed, plopping down hunched over to rest his head in his hands. You frowned, going and taking a seat behind him and rubbing your hand on his back to soothe him.

“Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?” You pushed, trying to understand.

“I don’t know if I can ever return to the afterlife.” He whispered.

“What do you mean?” You furrowed your brow.

“An index finger points to who the curse is laid on. It was tucked away with part of my body, like they were making one last jab at me. Whoever asked for the witches aid, this is their finger. They cut it off, and the seal was added into the lining of the bag, strengthening whatever magic they used. It’s purpose is to bind. Now that I am back in my body, I’m bound to this world. I can’t return to the afterlife.” He said, his face expressionless.

“But how could they have known you would return to your body?”

“Before I died, I spoke with the Gods. Perhaps they did the same.” He shrugged.

You felt your stomach drop, unsure of how to fix a problem from several thousand years ago.

“Do you know how to break the curse?”

“The one who sacrificed his finger has to die, only then will the magic will disappear.” Dabi told you. You nodded in thought before asking.

“Wouldn’t they be dead by now though? So shouldn’t the curse already be broken?”

Dabi looked at you and smiled, pulling you into his chest as he held you tightly against him.

“Yeah, your probably right, doll. I’m sure everything is fine.” He said softly, resting his chin atop your head. You nuzzled into him, your eyes closed, while his forced smile dropped from his face and his hardened gaze wandered back to the pile on top of your dresser.

Dabi knew the curse wasn’t broken, not yet. He wasn’t ready to tell you everything, the reason he needed to come back to your world and his plans. Not only did he want to keep you from worrying, he didn’t even want you involved. He knew what he had to do, and he had a feeling that he would find the owner of the missing finger then. For now, he would push it to the back of his mind and let himself forget. He would just enjoy being with you for as long as he was able.

[beingdreeyore]

It was after 5am when I feel asleep and just after 8am when I then woke-up. It’s been a lot of years since anxiety has kicked my butt that badly. I’m not dwelling on how difficult it is experiencing it again, it’s more bringing back a flood of memories that I’m both curiously and tentatively wading through, and I’m working to try to find acceptance of what's occurring right now. I’m making a mess as I go though. 

For those that joined recently, it’s reminding me of the ex, but for those that were here way back at the start (and I know there are a couple), it’s reminding me more of The Sasquatch. And it has been a lot of years since I’ve thought of him in any capacity, other than wondering if he ended up going to jail... 

But with this situation I switch between two minds. In one mind I’m able to see that space is good (for him, not me. I get absolutely nothing from this space, let me be very clear on that). He needs to be removed from her to be here because this whole week only happened because I put my foot down and said that this was it, I was walking, there was no reason for us to have any contact moving forward. That seemed to have been the catalyst for this. So if he doesn’t take space, if he still hasn’t separated his life from hers, then we end up back exactly where we were. He needs to take those big steps and maybe I do just complicate that or make it harder. People are entitled to space when they feel they need it. 

However, in my other mind I don’t want this at all because space is absolutely crushing to me. I had made peace with needing to walk away and had started the grieving process. Then he called an abrupt halt to those plans by telling me he felt the same way that I did and that he wanted to see what this could be too. So he took steps to suggest he did really want that. But then he disappeared in a sea of grief and I’m here with no idea if he’s coming back or what is happening in is head. The hope that he gave me when he admitted he felt the same... It suddenly seemed like all of this had been worth it. Every bump in the road, every tear, every night staying awake until 3am talking on the phone trying to find a way to stay in each other’s lives, saying we couldn’t that this was the real goodbye and then never lasting more than a few days. It was all suddenly worth it and I had this excitement for what could be. But almost as soon as he said it he disappeared. I keep coming back to knowing that she will be contacting him when I can’t and that’s when the waves of anxiety hit, telling me he’s not leaving her. Telling me he’s changed his mind. That the hope and excitement I felt was just me being stupid. Again. Because I can’t compete with a woman like that. And maybe his desire to avoid pain is greater than his desire to be with me. My self-doubt tells me it is. My self-doubt is a bully. 

It’s a painful time. For everyone. I know that. But it’s so hard to make sense of it all when I’m so deep in it. I also don’t want space because I want to be someone he can turn to. Feeling like I failed him in that way makes it all seem so much worse. I want him to be here, on the couch, even if he isn’t happy. I want him to want to be with me when things are tough. Accepting that he doesn’t is painful. My self-doubt mocks me for allowing myself to think he would ever want to.

So I’m checking the phone a lot. It’s a waste of time but I’m doing it anyway. I’m keeping as distracted and busy as this lockdown will allow. Which isn’t much. Friends are being very good and supportive but the ones who know ask multiple times a day whether I’ve heard from him and their responses create more confusion. The ones who wanted him to take space are the same ones now asking why it’s taking him so long. I explain that it hasn’t even been 48 hours of space - people are very invested in my happiness and are convinced it’s longer. It’s nice but it feels like pressure. They like to point out to me how much harder it will be for him to see me in three weeks - why is he wasting this time? I’ve had to ask them to stop asking questions that don’t help. The negative voice in my head is particularly loud today. I can’t silence it so I’m letting it say what it says and reminding myself that they’re just thoughts, nothing more. It’s reminding me that I’ve been here before. That silence has been a feature in every relationship I’ve had that failed. It was loudest before the end. My self-doubt is laughing at me for allowing myself to think it would ever turn out any other way. 

I’m stumbling a lot. I get brief moments of anger. I want to cut and run from everything. Disappear. I want to pick up the phone and force him to interact with me, to tell me what’s going on. To explain to him that this uncertainty is actually the most painful thing a person can put me through because of my history. That I’ve always been very clear since the ex that I won’t do silence again. That this hurts more than I could have expected because now it’s him doing it, and he’s the person I thought I actually mattered to. That I’m replaying in my head every time a man has asked me for space. None of them are around anymore. My self-doubt is playing a constant stream of their faces so I don’t forget. It is also deleting the important fact that none of them ever asked for space, they just disappeared. This is different. In a million ways, this is different. My self-doubt shuts that thought down quickly. it doesn’t fit the narrative. 

So I remind myself that space in this situation is different from space in the past. That there are valid reasons for it this time (me not understanding them doesn’t invalidate them). That this is my self-doubt running riot in my brain and I have to just accept what it is happening. My self-doubt is an arsehole and this is how it behaves at times like this. Fighting the situation won’t change it. Constantly writing about how much I hate the situation won’t change it. Trying to make sense of the situation won’t change it. The only thing that changes the silence is him, and he will do that when he’s ready. And there is no way to know yet what it will look like when he does or what he will say or even when that will be. These are all things outside of my control that I have to make peace with and radically accept. 

Today is going to be a painful and challenging day. 

[hookedonapirate]

I’ll Hold On To You

Summary: When Emma said “a onetime thing,” she didn't think he'd take it so literally.

A/N: This happened because of all the Neverland smut talk on Discord and because I wanted to contribute to the wonderful collection.

I was listening to Don't Give Up On Me by Andy Grammer while I was writing this and it reminded me of Killian, especially in the episode, Dark Hollow, so that's where the title comes from.

Hope you enjoy :)

Rated: Explicit because, well, it’s basically pure smut ;)

Also available on: AO3 I FF.N

I will fight I will fight for you I always do until my heart Is black and blue

  And I will stay I will stay with you We'll make it to the other side Like lovers do

    I'll reach my hands out in the dark And wait for yours to interlock I'll wait for you I'll wait for you

  —Don't Give Up On Me by Andy Grammer

  There’s something about the way he constantly stares at he—the way those damn drowning blue eyes hold such a blinding intensity that gives her goosebumps, the way his tongue darts across his lips so obscenely, it should be illegal, the way he doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he’s staring at her—which makes her want to throw her damn promise out the window. 

A onetime thing is what she’d said. 

So why does she want so much more than that from him? Why does she want to peel away all that leather until he’s standing before her glorious and naked, his manhood hard and throbbing and aching to fill her to the brim and why does she want to wrap her legs around his hips so snug and tight, allowing him to drive into her so hard and deep and fast until she’s seeing stars and screaming out his name, until she’s falling apart in his arms? 

She wants to hate him; she wants to pretend that kiss never happened, but now she knows what his mouth tastes like and that his tongue feels like soft silk against her own and how warm and firm his body feels pressed against hers. Now she’s screaming on the inside, fighting an internal battle, fighting for her sanity when she’s supposed to be finding her son. But she can’t help it. She craves Hook with every fiber of her being and she’s afraid all the walls she’s built up so high will come tumbling around her with just the right look. But she knows the burning desire between them will only fade once she gives in to the allure of it all, and then she will be able to find some sort of semblance again. She’ll be able to breathe again.

Or so she's convinced herself.

The sun had sunk below the horizon an hour ago when they set up camp and now they’re sitting around the fire and they’re running low on wood. Emma had avoided sitting by him because she was afraid the fire wouldn’t have been the only thing heating their campsite if he were too close. But now he’s looking at her from across the dancing flames, and she knows that look too well. But this time there’s much more heat behind his stare than there was before their kiss—there’s more intensity, more hunger—and she has to bite her lip when her eyes connect with his. She has to resist the temptation of giving in when all she wants to do is give in. She wants to be touched by him. She wants to be ravaged by him.

His gaze is so intense she can’t hear anything—not the critters of the night or the crackling of the fire or the other people chatting around her as she stares back at him. She can engage in this staring contest with him all night long since she probably won’t be able to sleep a wink tonight anyway, but then he does the one thing she knows will break her. Make her succumb. He wets his lips, that sinfully delicious tongue emerging from the seam of his mouth, and that’s what does her in. She has to swallow the moan threatening to claw its way up her throat as she thinks about how good that tongue would feel between her thighs.

Mmmm…

She stands from her spot, never once taking her eyes off Killian, and does her best to sound as subtle as possible. “I'm going to gather some more wood. Hook, want to give me a hand?” 

The most ridiculous grin creeps over Killian’s face, not helping her situation. It’s certainly not going to dry her panties. “Is that a joke, love?” he teases, throwing her own words in her face.

“Sorry, poor choice of words,” she apologizes, offering a small smile. She’s waiting for Killian to stand and join her, but Neal beats him to the punch. 

“I’ll go with you, Ems.”

Killian shoots up from his spot, gritting his teeth and glaring daggers at Neal. “I believe the lady asked me to come with her.”

Neal shrugs. “I just figure she could use more hands.”

Hook's jaw twitches as he steps up to Neal with an almost murderous look in his eyes. “Trust me, mate, I can do more with one hand than you could ever do with eight.”

“All right, all right, that’s enough,” David interjects, trying to diffuse the obvious tension brewing between Neal and Killian. “Why don’t you both go so Emma doesn’t have to go venturing off in the woods in the dark.”

“I’ll be fine,” Emma assures him. “I was a homeless orphan on the streets when I was a child, I can handle myself in the woods.” Emma immediately regrets her words when she sees the sad, regretful look on her mother's face. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that.”

Mary Margaret shakes her head, waving off her words. “No, you're right, you're more than capable of looking out for yourself.”

  “Okay, so it’s settled; I’m going, but I don't feel like getting lost in the woods and, Hook, you know the island more than anyone so you're coming with me.”

“Hey, I know this island just as well as he does,” Neal argues defensively.

“Well, I didn't ask you to come with me. I asked Hook,” she states firmly, not in the mood, nor does she have the time or patience to put up with Neal's petty arguments. She just wants some alone time with Hook, but he and Neal are too busy having a stare-down to notice her shoving past them. “Let's go,” she says to Hook. 

“As you wish, love.” 

A faint smile pulls at her lips as she walks away from the site, her heart fluttering in her chest. She'll never get tired of hearing him say that.

She walks ahead of him until they're far enough away from the others, until Emma's sure they won't be able to hear her or Killian. When he starts picking up sticks from the forest floor, Emma has to suppress a laugh. He actually thought she pulled him away to grab more wood. Well, she supposes she escaped to grab wood, she just had a different kind of wood in mind. “You do know that wood is going right back to the ground, right?”

Killian rises after picking up another stick, and eyes her inquisitively. “Is that not the purpose of escaping camp and coming here?”

Emma saunters to him, planting her hands on her hips and tossing him a saucy smirk. “Oh, we'll be coming all right.”

Killian arches a brow and clutches the wood tighter to his chest, still oblivious to her intentions. “Coming where, love?”

Emma purses her lips and surveys their surroundings until her eyes land on an acceptable surface behind him. It's really the best they can do, given the circumstances and lack of space. “Against that tree will do.”

He turns his head to see what tree she's referring to while she waits for him to get it��to understand what her words are implying—and honestly, she expected him to catch on much quicker than this. He is a three-hundred-year-old pirate after all. Maybe he understands, but he's playing dumb because he's afraid to get his hopes up. She told him that kiss was only a onetime thing so maybe he took it to heart. 

He takes a full moment—a moment of scratching being his ear, of quirking his handsome features and furrowing his brows—before it finally dawns on him, before the comprehension finally flickers in his eyes, before the wrinkles in his forehead finally smooth over and his mouth falls agape as he processes her words.

But they've already wasted enough time and her parents are probably wondering what's taking so long. So she acts quickly, grabbing his face and capturing his lips, earning a surprised groan from his throat and relishing the way the sound reverberates through her body. He's taken off guard at first, but it doesn't take long for him to move his lips against hers, to toss the wood to the forest floor with a thump so he can thread his fingers through her golden locks of hair, pulling her closer as she wraps her arms around the back of his neck. 

His tongue is just as pliant and warm and skilled as she remembers, plunging into her mouth so greedily, moving and flicking and pressing deliciously against hers. They're breathing each other in every time their lips change angles, and they're fighting for dominance, the dual of tongues and teeth making her head spin. He's pushing her back up against the tree she had mentioned earlier, and her heart is racing as he presses into her and swallows the gasp she makes when she feels how hard he is against her. God, he feels good, like heaven and sin; she can tell he's big, her clit is pulsing and she’s aching to have him inside her.

She sucks his tongue into her mouth, earning what she can only describe as a primal growl from his throat and she doesn't want the kiss to end (she didn't want the kiss to end last time either) but she needs him. She breaks the kiss to tug her shirt over her head and toss it to the ground, and when he doesn’t voice a protest (as if he would) she pulls off her white, lacy bra, adding it to the pile. His eyes go big and wide and he's staring at her breasts like it's Christmas morning (even though she doubts he's ever experienced one) and he takes them in his palm, kneading her honey-soft flesh and caressing softly. They fit perfectly in his hand like they were made for him, and her head falls back, landing softly against the tree with a moan. Her panties are fucking soaked. 

His arms tighten around her as he kisses down the column of her neck, and she's closing her eyes, relishing the way his lips feel, the way his teeth nip her skin as he makes his way down, reaching her chest and mouthing her breasts. He draws a soft, pink nipple into his mouth, licking and teasing and moving his tongue around until her nipple is hard and swollen before he switches to the other one. A moan escapes her mouth when he’s suckling harder and lifting his hook to her other breast, the cool metal circling her nipple. Her breaths come out in shallow pants as he caresses her nipples with his fingers, his tongue, his hook and God it's amazing, she could come if he keeps this up.

“Harder...” she breathes, her words wrecked.

He eagerly complies, pinching a little harder as she pulls his face to hers and resumes their sloppy kissing. She removes her hands from his cheeks to reach between them and struggles to undo his pants. 

God damn it, why does he have to wear so many clothes all the fucking time, especially in this godforsaken humidity? She finally unzips his leather pants and shoves her hand inside to find what's waiting for her underneath all that leather. She wraps her hand around his length, and strokes him gently, letting his cock slide easily through her fist, and oh God, he's even bigger and thicker and harder than she'd imagined. Every time her hand drags down his impressive length, she takes his balls in her palm, gently caressing and massaging them before making her way up his shaft again.

Killian’s eyes roll to the back of his head, and he melts into her and buries his face in the crook of her neck, whispering into her ear, “You keep that up, you’re gonna make me come.”

Her walls clench at his words and as much as she wants to finish him like this, she wants his cock inside her. She needs him like she needs air to breathe. “Then you better hurry up and fuck me, Captain.”

When he lifts his head to gaze into her eyes, searching for her genuine consent, she’s donning a lascivious smirk. “Are you sure about this, love?”

She tightens her grip around his cock, stroking him harder and faster until he won’t be able to do anything but give her what she wants. But the look in his eyes already tells her he would go to the end of the world and back for her. “Yes, please…” she begs, not caring that her voice is cracking with desperation. “I need... I need—”

“I know what you need,” he growls and quickly pulls off his jacket, letting it fall to the forest floor before yanking her leggings and panties down as she helps him, adding the clothes to the pile. Once she's completely naked, he looks like he wants to devour her from head to toe but there's no time for that, so she has other plans in mind. 

She pulls him to her and he's wrapping one arm around her waist, lifting her slightly off the ground. She's eagerly snaking her legs around his hips and guiding his weeping tip to her entrance. He’s slowly rocking back and forth, invading her tight sheath, letting her walls expand and accommodate to his girth, groaning as he succumbs to her heat. With one hand around the back of Killian’s neck and the other on his shoulder, she can’t stop the moans erupting from her mouth as he captures her lips and sets a delicious rhythm, thrusting in and out of her so perfectly, her nails digging into his shoulders. She’s bobbing up and down on his cock every time he slams into her, pushing her against the tree. When he releases her lips and buries his face in the crook of her neck, she can hear him cursing and feel him panting against her skin. 

God, she feels so full. Then Killian pulls out until the head of his cock is still inside her and just when she's about to protest, he thrusts into her again.

“Killian… fuck...” She can feel his lips widen against her neck before he lifts his head, donning a ridiculous smirk. She tries to furrow her brows at him while he’s fucking her, but he feels way too good, her mouth falling open when he’s hitting the perfect spot inside her.

“You called me Killian,” he gloats between shattered breaths, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “I’ve never once heard you call me by my actual name before.”

“Don’t get used to it,” she mumbles, and her attempt at an eye roll just leads to her eyes rolling to the back of her head as pure pleasure consumes her.

“As you wish, love,” he says cockily, knowing fully well he has her exactly where he wants her. His hand is still curled around her waist as he continues to invade her body, and Emma can only hold on to him for support as she rides his dick for all it’s worth.

Their skins smack together, loud enough for anyone around to hear as he cups her ass in his palm, holding her up as he tangles his hook in her hair, tugging just light enough to expose her neck so he claims her lips for a bruising kiss.

Their amorous activities in the middle of the forest, coupled with the Neverland humidity dampen their skin with sweat. And she’s wondering why she’s the only one naked here. Killian’s pants are pooled around his ankles, but he still has his shirt and vest on so she fumbles for the buttons and rips them off, sending buttons flying. He’s too consumed by her tight sheath to be mad as she pushes the fabrics from his shoulders, and he lets them fall to the ground. 

Her breasts feel hot against Killian’s toned, bare chest, his heart beating wildly against hers as she glorifies in the sight and feel of him, running her hands through his chest hair, finding it to be softer than she’d ever imagined; she’d itched to feel his chest hair between her fingers from day one. Dragging her nails down his ribs to his washboard stomach, she loves the way his abs ripple under her touch.

She really wants this all to last, but she knows her parents are already looking for them, and Emma and her lover are bound to get caught in this compromising position at some point. But right now she doesn’t give a fuck. If her parents catch them, they’d probably just turn around and sneak back to camp without Emma or Killian hearing them. That’s the best-case scenario. The worst case is David pulling Killian off of his daughter and giving him a good pounding with the pirate’s cock still out and glistering with Emma’s arousal. She shakes those thoughts away and focuses on the good pounding Killian’s giving her. She feels so wild and dirty and swears she grows wetter every time he rams into her. 

Knowing how soaking wet she is for him, feeling how easily his cock slides in and out of her heat brings him to the brink of madness. He tugs on her hair a little more, baring her neck to him so he can kiss her there, sucking love bruises into her soft, pale flesh.

Emma moans a little louder than she’d intended and she grips at his shoulders to keep from falling as his thickness plunges into her warmth. 

She’s so damn close.

He lowers his head from her neck and draws her nipple into his mouth, lapping it with his tongue and kissing each rose-colored tips.

As soon as she feels his teeth nipping at the stiff bud, her back arches and her entire body convulses, and with a long, drawn-out scream, her walls flutter and her nails dig into his back as she comes around his glorious cock, her orgasm washing over her in waves. “Killian…” His name tumbles from her lips like a broken prayer and she doesn't even care.

But this time he's not even grinning as he lifts his head; his mouth is too busy hanging open as his irises disappear into the darkness and his eyes roll back once more as her walls tighten and squeeze his cock. “Bloody… fucking... hell,” he growls, and she loves that phrase used in this context, she loves how the shattered words tumble off his tongue. She loves it because he normally speaks so confidently and impeccably—such a smooth talker he is—but when her walls are wrapped around his cock, he’s a complete mess.

She tips her head, her back dragging against the rough texture of the tree, Killian’s smooth body against hers providing a welcoming contrast. Just as she’s floating down from her high, Killian rubs her clit with his thumb as he picks up speed and vigorously pumps his cock into her, chasing his orgasm as he takes her with him.

Her nails almost draw blood into Killian’s back as he slams into her rough and hard, and God, it hurts everywhere, but in the very best way. She’s already coming again. She wraps her legs tighter around him, buries her face in his neck and bites his shoulder to muffle her cries as she lets herself explode once more.

As if it were even possible, her walls grip his cock tighter than before. With one last thrust, his arms securely wrapped around her, his muscles convulse and he comes with a deep, guttural groan, his hips slowing as he whispers, “Emma…” in her ear.

She shudders as he fills her up with his hot seed, his cock pulsing inside her.

They stay in that position for what seems like an eternity until he can barely hold them up anymore. He helps Emma to her feet but clings on to her just in case, and she's grateful because her knees feel like jello. Her legs are trembling from the aftermath of her two orgasms and she can feel his hot come dripping from between her thighs and down her legs. 

He caresses her face and places a soft, gentle kiss on her lips, not like the kisses they shared just minutes ago. But somehow a quick kiss turns into a long, heated one and before she knows what’s happening, they’re tumbling to the ground, she’s on her back and Killian’s forcing her legs apart and burying his face between her thighs so all she can see is the unruly, dark hair on his head as he laps up both their essences coating her folds with his tongue. She lets her head slump into the dirt, her chest heaving and her hand clenching his hair as the pleasure courses through her body once more. 

She’s trying to be as quiet as she can but that’s probably a lost cause by now. She can hear Killian’s lips smacking against her flesh and the little groans he provides as he eats into her like she’s his very last and very best meal. She can also hear her heart pounding mercilessly in her ear and the sound of a branch snapping from a close distance. Realizing they’re not the ones making the sound (they’re not even near the sticks Killian had tossed to the ground) she cranes her neck toward the direction the sound came from. 

She gulps when she sees Neal watching them from behind a bush, his eyes filled with lust as he sees his ex-girlfriend writhing on the ground with her legs spread wide, her skin flushed pink as Killian’s face is buried in her cunt. She hates to admit it, but she knows that look. She knows Neal is aroused as he watches his former lover being completely devoured by the dirty pirate. Emma gives into the little smirk tugging at her lips as she rolls her head back to give Killian her undivided attention. She wonders how long Neal has been watching them. Knowing he’s only a few feet away makes her feel so naughty, yet emboldens her more than she cares to admit. 

“Mmmm, I love the way you taste… so sweet,” Killian groans against her glistening folds. 

She tugs on his hair and arches her back as the pleasure builds again. “Killian, make me come again! Make me yours!” she screams, making sure she’s loud enough so Neal can hear her. So he knows that, even though he was incapable of doing so when they were together, she actually can have an orgasm. Multiple in fact.

But Killian doesn’t have to try very hard. He already knows her body more than Neal ever did and this is their first time together. He already knows how to plunge his fingers into her heat at just the right angle and speed and that if he sucks her clit into his mouth as he finger-fucks her, that's all it takes to push her over the edge. He already has her entire body shaking as another orgasm rips through her body and she’s screaming out, “Oh, Captain… Fuck!” She turns her head to sneak a peek at Neal, and he’s palming his crotch. He’s certainly not big but she can tell he’s hard, and a proud smirk overtakes her face.

As she falls from another high, she's wondering if Neal's jealous he could never make her finish this way. Not that he tried very often. He mostly looked out for himself so he could get his rocks off before he tried to pleasure her (tried being the keyword here) just for the sake of making it look like he was trying. Needless to say, their sex life left a lot to be desired. 

She can't say the same about Killian, though; he's already made her come more in one evening than she ever had during the whole time she was with Neal. 

Killian licks his fingers clean and collapses beside her, wrapping her up in his arms as she basks in the afterglow and the feeling of his firm body tucked under hers as she drapes a leg and arm around him, both of them sighing contentedly. She gazes at the stars, dangerously close to falling asleep before they have to head back to the others. She wonders if Neal will run his mouth off about what he saw, but she doubts it. He’s probably too busy feeling sorry for himself. Or maybe he will tattle on them knowing David wouldn’t be too happy about it.

After a moment of recuperating, Killian looks at her, a smug brow raised, and a cocksure smirk gracing his lips. “So, I guess the first kiss we shared wasn't a onetime thing after all, was it, love?”

Emma finds herself blushing and smiling, not nearly in a position to deny her feelings for him any longer as she combs her fingers through his chesthair, thoroughly enjoying herself. “Well, obviously not. We did a hell of a lot more than kissing, but I shouldn't have to tell you that since you were there,” she points out sassily.

“Aye, love,” he chuckles, “I was there indeed,” he says with a smirk. “And what about what just happened between us? Was that a onetime thing too?”

Emma doesn't reply with words at first, but gazes into his eyes and leans in for a slow kiss, hoping to express everything she feels for him with her lips. Then she curls her hand around his cock and whispers dirtily in his ear, “Yes, a onetime thing,” she answers, lifting her head to throw him a wink, which translates to, definitely not a onetime thing, I’m just not brave enough to tell you that. But the smile he offers and the blush tinting his cheeks tell her he knows exactly what she means. Open book after all.

Finally, they rise and start collecting their clothes from the ground. Once they’re dressed and at least somewhat presentable (she’s just glad it’s dark and her flushed cheeks won’t be so noticeable) they head back and are almost to the site when she realizes something and curses under her breath. “Damn.”

  “What's wrong, love?” he asks in concern.

“We forgot the firewood.”

Tagging some lovelies who might be interested: @onceuponaprincessworld @teamhook @kmomof4 @nikkiemms @jamif @revanmeetra87 @artistic-writer @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @laschatzi​ @hollyethecurious​ @cluttermind​ @iamemmaswanjones​ @melly326​ @iam2307​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @biefaless​ @andiirivera​ @captainswan-shipper88​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @gingerchangeling​ @roseyflush​ @kiwistreetswan​ @julesep3026​ @ lfh1226-linda @i-love-books2014​ @xsajx​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @officerrogers​ @tiganasummertree​ @donteattheappleshook​

[evabellasworld]

Storm of the Republic

Chapter 27

AO3 Link | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27

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Summary:  When Tup murdered General Tiplar during a battle, Anakin Skywalker and Captain Rex dispatched Ahsoka, Fives, and Yara to solve the mystery that was plaguing the Clone Army. Meanwhile, Senator Padme Amidala contacted Commander Fox, Commander Tori, Riyo Chuchi, and Dipper to help her continue investigating the death of Palpatine, suspecting that Dooku was behind the evil plot. But when Dooku send an ISB agent to stop them, the team had to race against time to search for the truth, which could alter the course of the galaxy.

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“So, what do you think will happen today?” Odd Eye asked her second-in-command. “Will we have any luck storming the city of Mendes today?”

“Let’s see,” Tarot said, as he closed his eyes and shuffled the cards and pulled one out, revealing The Magician card in front of her eyes. “Well, the answer to your question is maybe. Maybe our mission will succeed, maybe it won’t.”

She raised one of her eyebrows. “Maybe? Really? You mean, we may or may not successfully storm the city of Mendes? Are you serious? This sentiment will not make this mission successful, you know. It’s a yes or a no, that’s all.”

“Commander, when you receive The Magician card in your reading, it means you have to tap into your full potential in order to make the plan work. The Magician uses his desire to manifest his own creation, which takes a lot of effort. If you don’t anything to make the plan work, then it will never happen.”

“So, you’re telling us that our victory depends on our good timing and decision?” Mina clarified, her hands on her hips. “Of course that’s the case, Odd Eye. In that case, we must discuss our plans with the generals to make it work. Otherwise, we will lose a lot of troops along the way, and that is something we cannot afford.”

Listening to their conversation, Cody sighed and shook his head as he glanced at the tarot deck. “Are you guys seriously relying on a pack of cards to predict our outcome? You know it doesn’t work like that, right?”

Tarot denied. “Contrary to the belief, Commander, tarot deck only guides us. If we don’t like the answer the cards give, you can always change your path. It’s all up to you.”

“Okay, and are they accurate, vod’ika?”

“They have proven to be useful in the past,” Odd Eye defended her best troop. “It doesn’t give us a straight answer, but we get open-ended questions instead, which makes us interpret the reading in different ways. Tarot has its own language, Codes. There’s no one way of understanding it.”

Tarot snorted as Cody bobbed his head, pressing his lips together. “Well, if you feel it works, then I guess I can’t stop you there. But remember to come back to reality once in a while. After all, you can’t always rely on them for questions and answers all the time.”

Fair point, the purple-eyed clone crossed her arms as she watched him approach Obi-Wan.

Cody has always been the logical one back when they were merely cadets on Kamino. She finds him rigid and strict, which earned him the rank of a Marshal Commander in the first place. Odd Eye may not be close to him, but she wouldn’t mind working with him from time-to-time.

If only Tori and Rex were assigned to this mission. They were the only one who could get Cody out of his shell.

He was lucky that his Jedi General was still by his side. Cody almost lost him during the Rako trouble, and he hoped it didn’t have to end this way again. He can’t imagine his general dying in front of him. Otherwise, he would have to deal with an admiral whom he’s not familiar with, like what happened on Umbara, where he ended up losing Waxer.

General Gomez and General Almarez-Guttierez were experienced enough to lead the clone army, but Cody doesn’t know about the rest of the admirals who weren’t promoted to a higher position. His arms shuddered as he thought about an inexperienced officer in battle. They might get killed within two seconds before they know it.

If only Rex and Tori were here right now. It’s not the same without them.

“Did you find anything, sir?” the Marshal Commander asked, as Obi-Wan was watching the enemies’ movements through his binoculars. There were a few Imperial Troop Transport driving down the dirt road carrying luminescent crystals that came from the mines. He knew the planet was known for its resources, but he didn’t know the significance of the crystals, besides decoration purpose.

Obi-Wan couldn’t sense the crystals inside, hence, it was not like the kyber crystals that came from the icy planet of Illum. They were beautiful, but what’s so special about them that the Empire wanted, anyway? What was the significance of those crystals to them?

“Sir, are you there?” Cody waved his hands in front of his face, catching his attention.

“I’m here, Cody” the Jedi snapped himself to the present moment, passing his scope to his trusted commander. “The Empire is transporting the crystals towards our target location, which is the city of Mendes. I could guess that’s where their headquarters are.”

“General Kenobi has a point,” Erina acknowledged, joining their conversation. “Since Hocura is known for crystal mining, it’s no surprise that the Empire is heading there.”

“Which gives us more reason to take back Hocura from Imperial hands,” Raul pointed out, facing Obi-Wan and Cody. “If we could get our hands on these transports, we could easily take on Mendes. What do you say, Master Jedi?”

Obi-Wan stroked his beard as he hummed to himself, staring at the forest floor. The plan could work, according to him, but it’s risky. Regardless, Obi-Wan felt this was a golden opportunity to achieve their goals for the Republic’s victory. This could be the only way to defeat the Empire.

“We’ll discuss your plans with our troops,” he approved, gesturing for them to move away from the bushes. “Come on, we can’t waste anymore time. The people of Hocura needs us.”

Raul beamed to himself and could only give a thumbs up without uttering a word to him. He wasn’t close to Obi-Wan, and hearing his praise brightened his day. Erina noticed the smile on his face and placed her hand on his shoulder, sharing his sentiment. “I have faith in you, dear. I will pray to Allah for your victory out there.”

“I could say the same for you, Eri,” Raul winked at his partner. “You’re a real good fighter out in the field. Just need to watch your step, though.”

Erina chuckled, rolling her eyes. “I should be the one saying that to you. Remember what happened at the last mission?”

“Oh, come on, it was only a shoulder shot. It wasn’t even that painful. Besides, I could still move my arms around.”

“And who had to tend to your shoulder wounds?” she gave him the side-eye, making him rub the back of his neck.

“I know, I know, but hey, I also had to deal with your leg injury for a month. You know how hard it was to carry you around the base.”

Erina squinted her eyes towards him before letting out an exhale. “Well, I enjoyed being carried by you. I wish you could do that on our wedding night.”

“Oh, I will make our wedding night special, if you know what I mean,” he smirked, making her cheeks flushed.

“You have my consent to tie me up and go rough on me on a queen's bed. I like it that way.”

Obi-Wan cleared his throat, signalling them to stay focus on their mission. “You can have your intimate talk with each other after this mission is over.”

Raul and Erina chuckled as they held each other’s hand, making his lips curled upwards. Seeing another couple spending time with each other warmed his heart as his mind wondered if he could have left the Order just to be with the love of his life. Obi-Wan would love to sit underneath the cherry blossom tree with his lover, holding her hands forever.

*If only Satine is still here,* he thought, his lips turned into a frown. *She would have been safer on base, instead on Mandalore.*

“Alright guys, I have a plan,” Raul announced to the clones, as they gathered around in circles, with Commander Odd Eye and Commander Mina beside him. “Those transportswe saw earlier are heading to the Imperial Headquarters, which are at our target location, and we’re going to infiltrate it.”

Odd Eye’s orbs widened, her jaws hanging. “If all due respect, General, that sounds like a risky plan. The transport is moving, and the chances of getting shot by a droid is high.”

“I’m aware of that, commander, which is why we need someone to stall those Imps, and I think I know who is perfect for that role.”

Cody, Tarot, and Mina turned to Odd Eye, who was cradling with her baby bump. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I am not doing that, ever. There is no way I’m going to be a bait.”

“You’ll be fine, vod,” Cody assured her, patting her back. “Besides, those droids are stupid anyway. Mina and I could back you up.”

“What if my son and I get killed?” she raised her doubt. “Those droids don’t have any mercy at all. They were designed to kill anyone in sight.”

“I’ll shield you, commander,” Obi-Wan calmed her, holding his lightsaber. “I won’t let anything happen to you and your unborn child, not on my watch.”

His words made her less anxious, though doubt has clouded her mind. “I appreciate that, Master Jedi, as long as the rest of our troops captured the transport as fast as possible. The longer I stall, the more likely the plan will fail. Are you okay with that?”

The Jedi placed his hand on his chest and gave her a slight bow. “You have my word, Commander.”

Erina turned to Cody and Mina, giving them an instruction. “Stand by our troops to take those transports by force. Get the timing right. We don’t want any mistakes in our plan.”

“Yes, general,” Mina saluted, as she headed towards her battalion along with Cody to give them orders.

[gothealed]

          NINA GOTHEL          -          ARCS

inspired by @zzozo   <3

𝐀𝐑𝐂 I :   𝐏𝐑𝐄-𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒

          the youngest daughter of mother gothel ,   nina grew up isolated and almost entirely alone on the isle of the lost ,   with only her mother and her older half-sister ginny as company .   an introvert at heart ,   she preferred to keep to herself rather than make allies with other isle born children or dedicate herself to a gang or faction .   she reasons that it is too much baggage ,   that other people are too much weight to carry ,   but she knows that it is truly because no one really cares about her .   when most ask what their opinion of her is ,   they would say that she is dull and entirely forgettable ;   that there was nothing remarkable about her ,   even with her legendary heritage .   she certainly wasn’t comparable to her older sister ,   that’s for sure .

          it isn’t until the day she is fleeing a group of bog boys that she meets james stabbington ,   the son of sideburns stabbington .   and suddenly ,   something has changed in her ;   he tells her she’s beautiful ,   and unique ,   and clever ,   and she can’t help herself .   she opens herself up to him ,   despite the worry in her gut that warns her against it .   she’s sure that it couldn’t end too horribly .

𝐀𝐑𝐂 𝐈𝐈 :   𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒

          she had been wrong .   it couldn’t have ended more terribly ,   in fact .   after he had stolen half of nina’s personal belongings ,   made himself comfortable in her bed ,   inserted himself into every crevice of her life ,   the other shoe drops .   he tells her that the sex was alright ,   but that he felt it was time to move on .   and it all comes rushing to her head ,   that she had just been a toy ,   a plaything ,   that she had given him everything she had and he had taken it and had no intention of giving anything to her .   and he had tried to walk away ,   but she wasn’t going to let him get away with this .   in a blind fit of rage ,   she grabs the first thing she sees ,   a baseball bat ,   and chases after him .   when she’s finished ,   his nose is permanently crooked and scarred ,   and she leaves him practically unconscious on the ground .   she feels empty and used up .

          but despite her revenge ,   he still manages to get the upper hand on her .   when he recovers ,   the rumours begin to spread .   how she’s crazy and possessive ,   how he had attempted to break off the relationship and she had thrown a fit and attacked him ,   wanting to ruin his face so no one could ever want him again .   then rumours spread that she was easy ,   that she slept with all of his friends while they were together ;   in fact ,   she slept with anything with a heartbeat ,   according to him .   the rumours were nasty and they did not hold back ;   and it had its desired effect .   no one would go anywhere near nina gothel ,   not unless they thought they could take her home with them .   and the worst part hadn’t even been that ,   but the aftermath of her mother finding out she had been disobediant and sneaking a boy into the house and seeing him in secret .

          with no more privacy ,   no friends to defend her ,   and nowhere to run ,   she watches the limo carry the core four through the barrier and hopes to god that they succeed in taking the barrier down .   not for the sake of evil ,   but so she can run far away from this place ,   from these people ,   and never look back .   in the meantime ,   all she has to cope is cheap booze and the cigarette addiction that james gave her .

𝐀𝐑𝐂 𝐈𝐈𝐈 :   𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝟐

          the barrier doesn’t come down ,   and so nina is left stuck in dire circumstances that she has no control over .   all she can do now is control how she protects herself ,   how she guards everything about herself .   she completely shuts out anyone who tries to get close ,   and practically stops appearing in public altogether to avoid the unwanted propositions thrown her way at every turn .   she carries as many knives as she can possibly hold on her body ,   all concealed beneath her clothes ,   perfectly unassuming until someone gets too close .   if she had been dependent on booze and cigarettes before ,   it was ten times worse now ;   it’s a crutch now ,   it’s something she cannot last a day without .   the cigarettes calm her anxiety ,   soothes the shaking in her hands that stems from her exhaustion ,   her lack of sleep ,   her shitty life at home .   the alcohol tamps down the emotions she so desperately wants to stop feeling ,   muffles them ,   makes them harder to pay attention to .   it’s the only thing she feels she can depend upon now .

          time passes on agonizingly slow .   she drinks and smokes like her life depends on it .   she wants to hide in her house but can’t stand being around her mother .   but going out in public means getting harassed .   she lives at an impasse ,   until the cotillion happens ,   until uma nearly gives them a taste of freedom once more .   stupidly ,   she allows herself to hope that escape was in her grasp .   but it’s all for naught ,   and uma disappears into the sea like she never even existed .   and nina retreats into darkness again .

𝐀𝐑𝐂 𝐈𝐕 :   𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝟑

          she’s at her wit’s end ,   it seems .   no matter how many people she beats back ,   she can’t even seem to find the peace she’s desperately searching for .   drinking herself into a stupor just makes her miserable ,   but she can’t seem to stop .   the nightmares torment her ,   and when it isn’t nightmares ,   she can’t seem to get to sleep without a drink or a smoke .   and though a handful of people have managed to at least insert themselves into her life in some way ,   though there are people that have become a part of her life ,   she still can’t find the bravery to open herself up to them .   it frightens her too much ,   the thought of letting herself become open and vulnerable to a person who could easily use it all against her .   she holds everyone at an arm’s length most days ,   though they may get lucky if they catch her truly wasted .

          and then ,   to her shock ,   the barrier comes down .   freedom is in her grasp ,   it’s close enough to touch ,   and she grasps for it like her life depends on it .   it does .   she will go anywhere ,   any place where the traces of her past cannot be found .

𝐀𝐑𝐂 𝐕 :   𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄  ( graphic by @magdiron )

          unbeknownst to almost everyone on the isle and in auradon ,   the demon sorceress zhan tiri had been contained and shipped off to the isle to prevent her from every attempting to gain control of the sundrop and the moonstone ever again .   as extra precaution ,   she had been contained in an ancient amulet guarded by yen sid ,   and even should she break free of her prison ,   the barrier would have kept her contained .   when the barrier came down ,   clean up crews ventured to purge the isle of anything dangerous that could potentially cause harm .   one clumsy crewman accidentally knocked over the case that held zhan tiri’s amulet ,   causing it to crack open and the spirit to escape without a trace .   a mad search occurs to search for the demon ,   but it’s too late .   zhan tiri attempts to immediately go for the sundrop and moonstone ,   but finds that the museum has barriers in place to prevent spirits like her from entering .   

          at this point ,   nina is adjusting slowly to the environment of auradon .   she opts into attenting auradon prep for a single year ,   to fine tune any skills that could potentially get her a decent job to support herself in the adult world .   in the meantime ,   she discovers that she has a second half-sister in cassandra ,   a close friend of queen rapunzel and prince consort eugene .   reluctantly ,   she accepts cass’ offer to let her stay in her home ,   and even begins to form a rather pleasant relationship with her .   though she is wary of rapunzel and eugene ,   she does not shy away from them .   on one night ,   after experiencing a crippling night terror involving her mother ,   she leaves the house and steps into the woods to get some fresh air ,   but comes upon a shadow with glowing eyes that leaps at her ,   causing her to black out .   the next thing she knows ,   she’s waking up in a hospital bed after cass found her unconscious in the grass .   the following month brings a series of episodes that cause nina to fall into a faint ;   every time it happens ,   she sees a series of flashing images like a flower ,   an opal ,   glowing spikes erupting from the floor ,   beaming golden light ,   then nothing .   she has no memory of any of it upon waking .   it would become bad enough that cass would insist that nina come home until they get a diagnosis ,   but nina asks to at least hold out until the break .

          their last day of classes end up entailing a trip to the museum of cultural history .   nina isn’t exactly thrilled by it ,   but she attends anyway ,   out of sheer curiousity .   at the mid-point of the tour ,   they come across the exhibit for the sundrop and the moonstone ,   encased in a magical barrier .   they seem familiar to her .   she begins to feel lightheaded and nauseous ,   ready to pass out again ,   but this time ,   she doesn’t :   instead ,   she feels something take control of her limbs ,   feels magic crackling at her fingertips ,   she watches the barrier holding the moonstone drop .   her mouth opens and a voice that is not her own spills out ,   people scream and jump out of her way as she moves forward against her will .   her mind screams for help ,   she tries to fight the possession ,   but there is nothing she can do ;   zhan tiri has taken full control of her body ,   and she watches her hand grab the moonstone and knows that there may not be a chance for her at redemption .

          the moonstone’s magic sears her flesh ,   but zhan tiri is delighted by this .   the transformation is agony for the human vessel ,   but the demon sings as the black rocks begin to shoot up from the ground ,   as light blinds every eye in the room .   when the dust settles ,   nina is transformed ;   neon turquoise hair ,   practically glowing along with the eyes to match .   the power is electrifying ,   and for the first time in her life ,   and entire room of people are cowering in fear of her ,   but for once ,   it is the last thing she’s ever wanted .   she tries to scream for help ,   but nothing comes out ;   zhan tiri has full control ,   and the crone’s voice drawls from her lips instead of her own .   before the demon can even attempt to reach for the sundrop ,   the alarms begin to sound ,   and reinforcements have already begun to barrel into the room to disarm the newly freed demon .   zhan tiri decides to leave the sundrop for later ,   and uses her vessel’s new powers to make their grand escape .

𝐀𝐑𝐂 𝐕𝐈 :   𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘

          the moonstone debacle nearly kills nina .   auradon’s best healers fought to keep her alive in the aftermath of not only the moonstone being ripped away from her ,   but the process of having zhan tiri exorcised from her body .   her body was never meant to wield that much power ,   nor was it meant to handle being possessed for such a long period of time as well .   when she awakens ,   she waits for the inevitable punishment that will surely be given for what has happened ,   but king ben seems to have the opposite idea .   while she had been preparing for a lifetime of imprisonment ,   he had already been fully informed on the circumstances of the incident by multiple witnesses ,   as well as the testimony of rapunzel ,   eugene ,   and cassandra .   though they barely knew her ,   they vouched for her innocent and pleaded for mercy on her .   and it was granted ,   much to her complete and utter shock .

          the incident had too great of a toll on her body for her to return to school without having to repeat the year ,   so she opts to instead drop out .   her body’s recovery is long ;   physical therapy is required for her to regain the use of her legs ,   and a lot of her fine motor skills are shot for a long time .   and unfortunately ,   the incident has left her with the choice to either drink and smoke herself to death or to choose to become sober ,   for the sake of her own health and safety .   therapy is made mandatory for her recovery as well ,   much to her chagrin ,   but she goes because cass asks her to .   when she is ready and willing ,   she already has a position lined up for her in rapunzel’s castle .   and she thinks ,   perhaps ,   that things might turn out alright after all .

[misswildfire]

Imagine if you got injured defending your crush

This one stemmed from the idea of Reader is hanging out with their turtle crush and gets injured trying to defend them. What will be the boys reactions? Lemme know what you think!

You couldn’t help the big smile that had been on your face for the last 10 minutes. Your favourite turtle had dropped by your apartment after patrol, wanting to hang out. While you loved hanging out with all the boys, it wasn’t often you got to hang out with your crush one on one. Since the weather was nice for once, you decided to hang out on your roof. Despite their protests of it being late, you didn’t mind, you were a night owl anyway, and what’s a little lost sleep if it meant you got uninterrupted time with your crush? It was one you were never likely to act upon, valuing their friendship too much to risk making things awkward if they didn’t return your affections in the same way. So you kept it to yourself, looking forward to those brief moments you could spend time with them. It didn’t matter, tonight was perfect anyway.

You shouldn’t have tempted fate. Or the universe. Or was it luck? You thought to yourself as you watched your favourite turtle take a defensive position in front of you. Several purple dragons had dropped down onto your roof weapons out.  Apparently it had been too much to ask to have some alone time with your favourite guy.

You watched as he moved with ease and grace, quickly dealing with any Purple Dragon who was stupid enough to get too close. His attention was split between the enemy and defending you, so he didn’t notice a Purple Dragon sliding onto the roof, having climbed up the side of the building and approaching from the turtles blind spot behind him. The blood in your veins turning ice cold, you realize what would happen if you didn’t do anything. Not wanting to shout and risk distracting him and giving the Purple Dragons an opening to do further damage or injury, you did the only thing that made sense at the time. You charged the offending Purple Dragon hoping to distract him enough or shove him off the roof or something. You weren’t really sure what your plan was, all you knew is that the idea of your turtle getting hurt because of you was not acceptable in your books.

Your plan, or lack there of, quickly backfired on you when the Purple Dragon, having some martial arts training where you had none, repelled your advanced, shoving you to the ground harshly. Your lack of training really became evident when you landed badly on your wrist, not being able to stop the scream of pain that ripped free.

Leo

A quick glance your way showed him that you weren’t bleeding, and didn’t need immediate attention. His grip on his katanas tightening, his awareness focused down to his enemies, taking them out swiftly with ice cold efficiency. He always practiced the belief of trying to use non lethal means, to check his strength as to not cause injuries more than strictly necessary. All that went out the window though the moment they laid hands on you.

A small part of him felt exhilarated at not having to hold back his strength with the humans and he relished it for a brief moment as he took the rest of the Purple Dragons out. When the last one fell to the ground, the light fading from his eyes, Leo sheathed his swords, quickly making his way over to you. Not wanting to remain in case more enemies came, he scooped you up and quickly moved out of the area. He wouldn’t risk you getting hurt again. Once he felt that you were both a safe enough distance away, he put you down on your feet and began examining your arm. It wasn’t until he heard you call his name softly that he realized he had been silent the entire time. He only had one question on his mind. “Why?”

“Because I couldn’t stand the idea of you getting hurt, especially because of me,” you reply softly. The blue banded turtle shakes his head. His scales and shell provided him with protection that you did not have, and he has years of training to know how to handle situations like this. You however, had been reckless and had been hurt because of it. “It looks like neither of us like seeing the other hurt.” His heart soared at the idea, did she return his affections with the same fervour? There was only one way to find out. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to yours, smiling when you shyly returned his kiss. Perhaps he should be thanking the Purple Dragons for tonight. They had given him a quite wonderful gift.

Raph

Looking back on it later, Raph supposes he’s never felt as much anger as he did in that moment. It exploded out of him, forcing him into a punishing pace. Forget checking his strength, he was trying to hit them with as much force as he could. How dare they hurt you. They would pay for their sins. If the Purple Dragons had any sort of medical coverage, it would quickly be maxed out by the end of the night with all the injuries he was leaving...if they were even alive. He wasn’t checking and nor did he care at this point, his anger forcing his attention to one thing: eradicate the enemy.

His breath coming in harsh pants, he stood there for a moment surveying the area as the last visible Purple Dragon dropped at his feet. Making sure there were no others, he turned, sheathing his weapons in his belt. Dropping down beside you, he quickly gathered you in his arms, mindful of the arm you had fallen on. “Are you alright?” his eyes quickly roam your body, needing to make sure you hadn’t been injured anywhere else.

“I’m fine,” you reply, trying to smile through the pain. You didn’t think anything was broken, to which Don would later confirm. He nods before standing up and making a hasty retreat. He didn’t want to take any chances that more Purple Dragons would show up. He kept moving until they were in the sewers, away from prying eyes before he allowed you to stand on your own. He stayed close, his hand hovering nearby, his desire to make sure that you were okay strongly warring with his fear of ever accidentally hurting you with his strength. You were so small and fragile compared to him.

“What were you thinking out there?” He demanded, anger and fear bleeding into his words, giving them a bite he didn’t really mean. You had been reckless and had been lucky you hadn’t been hurt worse. “You could have been killed! What would I have done then?”

You try not to let the anger in his voice affect you, you know he’s acting this way because he’s scared and angry. At the same time, you aren’t going to back down either. You had made the right choice and would do it again in a heart beat. “And what do you think I’d do if you were killed or hurt, huh? Did you think of that?”

It was as time stood still, both of you silently looking at the other, the only noise that could be heard was both of your breaths, ragged and harsh. The moment shattered as Raph roughly pulled you do him, his lips crashing down on yours, claiming your lips in brutal kiss. Maybe this injury had been more worth it than you had originally thought. Winding your arms around his neck, you try and pull yourself closer, never wanting his lips to leave yours.

Don

His mind has always been a chaotic place, many different thoughts going at the same time, working on a project, or developing a new theory. Rarely is it ever silent or focused on one thing. Seeing you injured brings his mind to a screeching halt, all of his mental processes focused now on one thing: Take out the enemy as quickly as possible so he could get to you and make sure you were safe. With the last Purple Dragon hitting the ground in front of him, it takes a moment for his brain to remember that you were injured. Once it does, he switches immediately into Doctor mode, running to your side. Deeming you safe to move, he picks you up and starts to bring you back to the lair so he can examine you more thoroughly in his lab.

“Don, Donnie, I’m fine!” you protest squeaking as he picked you up bridal style.

“How could you be so foolish?” he admonishes gently, careful to keep any anger out of his tone. “I have training and armor and my scales make my skin tougher, so I don’t get injured as easily.” You smile up at him as he continues to walk, knowing that he was going to start rambling soon unless you did something to stop him. Wrapping one arm around his neck, you pulled yourself up and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. The blush on his cheeks when you pulled back was well worth all of the pain that you had experienced tonight.

Mikey

The moment he heard you scream in pain, his playful banter that he loved to use to distract his enemies stopped. His brothers may accuse him of being a goofball, of not having the greatest focus (okay, so meditation and him didn’t get along to well, it was just so boring, okay?) but what most people failed to realize is when Michelangelo wanted something, like truly wanted something, he could pursue it with enough focus and dedication that rivaled Leo’s. He wasted no time when the last Purple Dragon fell to race to your side, his nunchuks clattering to the floor as he dropped to his knees beside you.

“Are you okay?” tumbling from his lips, his hands hovering just over your body, wanting to check to see if you were okay, but scared to touch you and hurt you further. You could see the panic setting into his eyes, fear that there was some injury he couldn’t see. You squeak in surprise as he scoops you up and begins running back to the lair, only to have to turn around after only a few steps after realizing he had left his weapons (don’t tell Leo or he’ll be stuck doing kata’s in the dojo for the next century). His brain scattered, his only thoughts of getting you to Don to make sure that you were okay, your pleas and reassurances that you were fine falling on deaf ears. Rolling your eyes, you could see that you were going to take drastic action. Pulling yourself up by winding your arms around his neck, you kiss him on the lips, nipping at the bottom lip before pulling back. Your unexpected action caused him to stumble before quickly regaining his balance and stride.

“Now that I have your attention, I am fine okay? It’s just a sprain, it’s really not that bad,” you tell him firmly, trying to ease the fear you could see in his eyes. His pace slowed, coming to a halt. He put you down gentle, and went to back away, but you wouldn’t let him. Wrapping your arms around his neck once more, you pull him down for a hug, trying to reassure with actions and touch since words weren’t working. “I am fine I promise, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll go see Dr. Don when we get back to the lair, okay?” You feel him nod from where he had buried his face in your neck after returning your embrace. It would probably take time for Mikey to be okay after this, knowing that a human is fragile in comparison to himself and his brothers was very different from having that reality shoved in your face, but you were determined to be with him every step of the way.

[panda-noosh]

welcome to my world {finn shelby x reader}

  Words: 7.5k

 Summary: Falling in love with a Shelby boy has dire consequences.

  Genre: angst

  Warnings: graphic depictions of death, drug use, blood.

  Notes: support my writing or ask me about commissions! 

---

 Sometimes Finn doesn’t want to live in the world he lives in.

   Sometimes he thinks it would be ten times easier if he was just a normal kid, someone who could go to school and complain about exams, hold hands with people under the table, wind teachers up by never being quiet. 

   Sometimes, Finn thinks his life is a bit of a curse.

   And it was like that for years. He wasn’t in the war, has never experienced the same PTSD as his older brothers, but he still wakes up in the middle of the night, cold sweat dripping, bare skin clinging to freshly washed sheets. He still sleeps lighter than air, just in case someone sneaks into his room; he needs to be able to hear them. He needs to be ready for when someone wants him dead.

    He’s fully aware he shouldn’t be living like this, of course. To any normal human being, this description of life would be seen as ludicrous, dangerous, child abuse. 

     You just thought it was interesting.

   Maybe that’s why Finn was so drawn to you in the first place - you never looked at him with pity, but you never looked at him like he was some kind of hero, either. You didn’t look at the guns strapped to his waist and say Wow, what a handsome, buff man. You looked at the guns strapped to his waist and said hm, that’s odd, i wonder what that’s for and that’s what really won Finn over.

   He hates the term. Won him over, as if he’s some prize that’s been left hanging on the rack for a week or a month or a year too long. He was never waiting, he was never a prize, he was never hopeful. In fact, Finn never once convinced himself that he would ever sleep with anyone besides whores for the rest of his life - Tommy would simply not allow it, Finn would simply not allow it, the world would simply not allow it.

    But then he met you, sitting at that table one day with your textbook open and your hair ruffled and that pen dangling from those lips that Finn immediately saw as impeccable, but was too shy to say anything. Tommy had told him to tell you off for taking up a table without a drink, and that was exactly what Finn planned on doing; in the end, he’d ended up sitting with you, sharing his whiskey as you talked him through a passage you were reading for some class you were interested in. You ended up dropping it a few weeks later, picking up something new, an experience Finn has never had but admired anyway.

    “You’re just free to do whatever you want,” Finn remembers saying to you one evening after hastily sneaking out the back to see you; John was working that night, and he didn’t want his older brother to notice anything strange. 

    You had shrugged, sitting idly against the wall, legs outstretched in front of you. Finn had one foot on top of your own, tilting your foot back and forth and back and forth, a lazy action that meant nothing but everything at the same time.

    “I think everyone’s free to do what they want,” had been your response, and then you had both gone quiet, and Finn remembers holding back a laugh because the mere idea of him ever having that kind of freedom was just so… bizarre, so far out of reach it was almost laughable to think he could ever possibly make it to that point. 

     But the freedom had come in tiny flashes. He got the night off from The Garrison, and he spent it with you. Tommy let him take one of his pistols, and Finn had shown you how to use it, watched you squeal and throw it to the floor, had rubbed your shoulder when you complained about the kickback hurting your muscles.

    He was finally getting the freedom he’d always desired, and he was spending it with you. 

   Bizarre.

    Now, he sits in the back of an abandoned wagon, head leaning against the wooden panel. Your arm is pressed against his, the cold air having nothing against the warmth your mere presence brings him; he has long since stripped off his checkered jacket and draped it over your shoulders, but he feels totally fine.

     You have your head leaned back, staring up at the afternoon sky. Around you, people bustle back and forth, doing double takes when they see the Finn Shelby sitting oh-so-casually in a wagon with a person nobody knows the name of.

    “You never told me how your day went today.”

   Finn cracks open an eye, glances over at you, does his usual thing of ignoring the little jump of his heart. “I didn’t do much.”

    “Liar.”

   Finn raises a brow. “What makes you say that?”

   You don’t even look away from the clouds when you answer, though there’s a small dopey grin on your face. “Finn Shelby never just doesn’t do much. You’re always up to something.”

   Finn scoffs. “Not today. I woke up, had breakfast, had a wank-”

  “Lovely.”

   “And now I’m here.” He nudges your arm. “With you. What more could you fucking want?”

   You grin, and Finn blushes. “That is the question, Mr Shelby, that is the question.”

   “What about you?”

   “What about me?”

   “How has your day been so far?”

   Your grin fades, morphing into a frown that has Finn leaning forward and inspecting your expression with a raised brow. You finally look at him, roll your eyes and shove him just a little bit, just enough to jostle the wagon, just enough to make a bit of laughter erupt from his mouth. 

    “Why do you look so confused?” he asks, louder than he meant to, but you make him excited.

   “I’m not confused!” you protest. “I just can’t think of anything to tell you - I didn’t do much today.”

    “Did you wake up this morning?”

   “Yes…”

   Finn sighs as if in content, leaning back with his hands threaded behind his head. “Good. That’s what I like to fucking hear.”

    You roll your eyes, but that grin is back on your face and it makes Finn want to kiss you.

   So he does.

    There’s that other little sliver of freedom he’s allowed himself recently, the sliver of freedom Tommy would never approve of, but Finn has lost the ability to care when it comes to other people’s thoughts about you. Tommy wants Finn to be with someone powerful, someone who benefits him and the business - Finn, honestly, is content just sitting in a wagon with you by his side as you wait for your exams to happen, as you chew a pencil and study. 

     You smile against the kiss, that adorable smile Finn loves so much. He laughs at the feel of it, breaking the kiss immediately, though as soon as he feels you pull away, he mumbles a “No, wait,” before pulling you back by the jaw and kissing you again, and again, and again until you’re both giggling too much to continue.

    “Your breath tastes like whiskey,” you say.

   Finn shivers. “The word taste coming out of your mouth-”

   “Finn!”

    He smiles. “Kidding.” A pause. “But not really.”

  And that’s how the two of you stay for the remainder of the afternoon, talking and laughing and kissing and teasing until the sun is falling down over the mountains and the moon is starting it’s slow ascent into the sky. Finn knows Tommy will be looking for him - hell, he’s been out so long that all of his brothers - maybe even Ada - will be looking for him, but as he helps you out of the wagon and pulls you in for a final goodbye kiss, he can’t find it in him to care.

    ----

    Finn hates family meetings.

   He used to complain when he wasn’t a part of them, but now he envies his little seven year old self, being able to sit in the back room and mind his own business while his older brothers and dear Aunt Polly dealt with the Big Kid Stuff. Now, he’s forced to sit in these uncomfortable chairs, sip whiskey, inhale smoke as his brothers rant and rave about some person, or some organisation, or some deal that he really does not give a fuck about.

    He does that now. Arthur had called him in to the meeting room only a few minutes before, and already Finn is craving his second glass of whiskey; alcohol, it seems, is the only thing capable of getting him through these oh-so-important meetings without reaching into his belt and pulling a gun on everyone in the room.

    Tommy stands at the head of the long board table, fingers clawed against the oak. Finn would laugh at the sight if he had a death wish, but he doesn’t, because he’s going to see you tonight. He’ll keep his description of Tommy’s Serious Face in the back of his head for later, because he knows you’ll enjoy it.

    “It was a genuine threat,” Arthur says. Finn’s been counting - this is the seventh time Arthur has said that. “A genuine, real life fucking threat. Do they have any idea who they’re messing with?”

   “I’m sure they do,” Polly replies. “They think they’re better than us. They think they’re bigger. They think they’ve got what it takes-”

  “We know fuck all about them,” John cuts in. “What if they have got what it takes?”

   “Nobody in Birmingham’s got what we’ve got,” says Arthur. “We know that for a fact.”

  Finn sips his whiskey.

   Tommy stays quiet. It’s never good when Tommy stays quiet. 

    Finn listens to his family talk, but he doesn’t really know what they’re talking about - he hasn’t seen this threat, hasn’t been told what this threat is, and he doesn’t care enough to ask. He won’t be allowed to do anything about it anyway, so what’s the point?

    “If it comes down to it, are we willing to waste resources on these people?” Polly asks. Finn knows what she means by ‘waste resources’ - ammunition. Are they willing to kill.

   “I think so,” says Arthur. “I don’t see another way around it if they do what they say they’re gonna do.”

   “I agree,” John replies, taking a swig of his whiskey. “Kill ‘em all.”

    Polly slowly turns her head towards Tommy, takes a puff of her pipe and says, “And what says you, O Great One?”

    Tommy inhales. His shoulders move, bunching up to his ears before he lets them drop and pushes away from the table. “We’ll see what happens.”

   The room goes quiet. Thomas Shelby, the man who usually has a plan laid out years in advance, is talking about just seeing what happens. Finn glances around at the rest of his family to see they are all sharing similar looks of confusion - this just isn’t right. 

    “Sorry, mate?” John says, cutting through the silence.

   Tommy doesn’t turn around, continues looking out the window with his hands behind his back. “We’ll see what happens, and go from there.”

   “See what happens?” Polly shakes her head, placing her pipe on the table with a clatter. “Tommy, these fucking idiots could show up at our door any minute now, and you’re prepared to just see what happens?”

    “If you want to go and sort it out on your own, Polly, be my guest.”

   Polly’s eyes are wide, snapping from Tommy to the rest of the table, silently asking for a backup nobody can give her, because nobody expected this, either.

   “Oh, great,” she finally says. “We’re all fucking dead then, are we?”

   Finn leans forward and timidly says, “What exactly was this threat?”

   “Who the fuck let him in?” Arthur demands. 

   Finn reels back. “Fuck you, Arthur.”

   “This isn’t the type of conversation you need to be involved with,” Polly says to him. 

   Finn’s stomach curls; of course, he’s heard this all before. He used to hear it all the time, never being let through the doors of the meeting room, and sure, sometimes he hates being left out, but god, when how unwelcome he is is put so bluntly, he just wants to punch something.

   Instead, he stands up. His chair screeches, and Tommy says, “Finn,” but doesn’t even do anything to stop him, and that on it’s own is enough for Finn to get the hint. He downs his whiskey, slams the glass back down on the table and storms out of the room, making sure to create as much noise as possible on his way out.

   Fuck them. Fuck all of them and their high opinions of themselves; Finn is grateful he never inherited such a toxic trait. In fact, he would even go as far as to say he’s jealous of his older sister for managing to get out of this shit hole ordeal whilst she could.

    He finds himself at your door before he even realises where his final destination is. One minute he’s storming through the streets of Birmingham, and the next minute he’s sat on your sofa, tucked under your arm with your hands messing with his hair and the sound of your voice soothing him into something close to peace - as close to peace as a Shelby boy can get.

   “Tell me what happened,” you whisper. You’re tired. He woke you up by knocking on the door, and he had apologised but he hadn’t offered to leave, because he took one look at you in your night clothes and he knew then and there that he would not be leaving your doorstep unless you asked him to.

   And of course you never asked him to.

    So Finn retells the story, and he curses his brothers, and he curses his life and his family and this job he was involuntarily sucked into. You listen, humming when need be, and the noise reverberates through your collar bone, tickles Finn’s cheek and soothes him further, until the story is melting from his mouth and not so difficult to put into words.

   When it’s over, you press a kiss to the top of his head. Just a small one, one he barely feels but it’s perfect nonetheless.

    “Fuck them,” you whisper into his hair. “You can offer so much, Finn. It’s them suffering by excluding you like that.”

  He closes his eyes, nuzzles his nose into your neck. He isn’t completely convinced you’re telling the truth, but the fact that you’re lying because you love him is enough to comfort him, anyway. 

     “Do you want to go to sleep?” you ask.

    “Do you?”

   “I’ll wait till you fall asleep.”

   He tightens his grip on you, pulling your legs across his lap. “I’ll wait till you fall asleep.”

   You giggle, curling a strand of his hair around your finger. “Then we’re both staying awake, aren’t we?”

   Finn kisses your neck. “Fine by me.”

    ----

    “Why are your parents never home?”

   Finn asks the question over breakfast the next day. In front of him sits a plate of bacon and beans, a stack of bread piled in the centre of the table. You are stood up, arms folded over your chest because you have never enjoyed sitting still; Finn looks up at you, mouth full of breakfast, and he watches you shrug as you tear a piece of bread in half.

    “They’re busy,” you reply.

   “With what?”

   “Work.”

   “What do they do for a living?” Finn never thought about it before, but now he thinks it’s kind of strange how he’s been in love with you for so long and has yet to find out what jobs your parents have.

    You shrug. “All sorts. Business deals. Selling stuff.”

    Three different answers. 

   Finn frowns. He stares at you a second longer before you sigh, clap your hands together to rid them of crumbs, and start back towards the kitchen. “Do you want anything else?”

   “No, I’m alright.” He picks his plate up and follows you, placing the plate in the sink before he presses his palms against the counter, encompassing you in his arms. You spin, grin when he pecks your lips before he says, “What are you so afraid of?”

    The question clearly startles you, as your eyes widen and you pull back as far as Finn’s make-shift cage will allow. He raises a brow, tilts his head to the side in a silent plea for you to tell him the truth, because you’re the love of his life, and all he wants from you is honesty, something he has never received from anyone else. 

    “I’m not afraid of anything,” you reply. “I don’t even fully understand what it is my parents do, Finn. I’m not lying to you.”

    “Do you see much of them?”

  “I see them around.” You shrug, reaching up to pluck at Finn’s shirt. “They’re more like roommates than they are parents - and I’m perfectly fine with that.”

   Finn frowns, but decides to push it no further. There’s so much he wants to ask, but he can see you’re slightly uncomfortable, can feel your arms tensing against him. Slowly he peels away from you, nods and says, “Alright then,” ending the conversation before he really wants to, before he really thinks he should, because he’s so used to seeing you carefree, minding your own business - but something about this line of conversation has clearly bothered you, and it puts him on edge.

    Nonetheless, the two of you spend the rest of the morning together with little to no tension. You read some passages from your book to him, and he stared at you as you spoke. He told you stories about his brothers and his sister and his life, and you stared at him as he spoke. Neither of you got dressed, simply lounged around in pyjamas until it was time for Finn to say goodbye, and even then the farewells lasted far too long; Finn didn’t want to leave. He never wants to leave. He gives you a kiss on the cheek, a kiss on the nose, a kiss on the forehead, a kiss on the lips before he finally turns and heads home, carrying what feels like the weight of the world on his shoulders.

   ----

     Finn knows something is wrong from the moment he walks downstairs.

   It’s been a few days since he stormed out of the meeting room, but things seem to be solved; nobody has brought it up, too busy fretting over threats and business to pay any attention to Finn’s childishness. He walks downstairs and pretends everything is fine, but it is then he notices his families stricken faces.

     Tommy isn’t there.

    Polly looks up from the page laying in front of her. She meets Finn’s eyes, takes a puff of her cigarette and says, “The bastards made their move.”

    At first, Finn is confused. He raises a puzzled brow before things start clamouring together and he’s struck with a feeling of understanding - he doesn’t know the full story, but he doesn’t need to know the full story. 

    “Who got hurt?” Finn asks, bustling around to Arthur’s side to glance at the page - a note, written in messy handwriting, detailing Tommy’s death. “Is Tommy alright? Fucking hell, Pol, why didn’t you tell me?”

    “Tommy’s fine,” Arthur replies. He sounds drunk, maybe a little high. “It’s the other bastards who aren’t. Tommy’s got them locked in the basement as we speak.”

  Finn straightens up. “No fucking way. How did he get them in so quick?”

  “Did you even read the letter?” John spits. “The idiots fucking threatened Grace. Tommy wasn’t wasting a god damn second.”

    Oh. Then it makes sense. It’s one thing threatening Thomas Shelby himself, but the moment you bring his loved ones into it, all hell will be broken loose and there is nothing but revenge that can bring it back. 

    Finn feels a little empty and he doesn’t even know why; this kind of thing happens all the time. His brothers came out of the war seeing red, seeing danger as a thing worth walking towards. For all of Finn’s life, he’s been trained to think in the same way as loved ones of police, or firemen, or soldiers - you love them, but there’s never any guarantee they’ll come home.

   Sometimes, though, hearing of Tommy’s anger is scary. It’s off putting, and it doesn’t matter how long Finn has been around it, has witnessed it for himself, it never gets any easier.

    “Where is he?” Finn finds himself asking, though he doesn’t know why - it’s not like his brothers will let him go and see what is happening. They never do. 

     John takes a swig of whiskey and shakes his head. “The crazy bastard went down to speak to them on his own. Wouldn’t let any of us go with him.”

    “He’s got a death wish,” Polly adds. “I didn’t even see a pistol on his waist when he walked out. He was too caught up in his own fucking head.”

   “What’s bloody new?” Arthur spits. “God, sometimes I just wanna rattle him.”

   Finn shakes his head. “He can’t go down there without anything on him.”

   “But that’s what he’s done.”

   “So we should do something.” Before he can think better of it, Finn snatches Tommy’s pistol from the table and clips it to his belt. He turns on his heel, starts towards the door-

   And of course, John’s hand clamps down on his shoulder before he can get very far. “Don’t be fucking stupid, Finny Boy.”

  Finn knew he would never get very far. His brothers love him too much. They’re harsh, and they curse, and they make him feel like shit but he would be lying to claim they didn’t love him - they just showed it in the most frustrating of ways.

    Finn hollows out his cheeks, shrugging John’s hand from his shoulder. “Fine. Let him die.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic,” Arthur says, throwing his head back. “He’s going to be fine. He’s Tommy.”

    “You lot are stupid for thinking he’s invincible,” says Polly.

   Arthur shrugs as if to say What else is there to believe? 

    ----

   Finn gets his chance a few hours later, after everyone has gone to bed and the house is quiet.

   He’d drank only a little bit. A glass of whiskey, maybe two, but he’s certain there was a drop of water taken in at some point in between, so he doesn’t really count himself as drunk. His head is just… somewhere else, on fire in a heap somewhere. That’s why he sits up and waits for the sound of Tommy’s office door closing, waits for the usual sound of his older brothers pacing before it abruptly stops, and Finn knows Tommy is inhaling his sleeping pills and will be out like a light within a few minutes.

   As soon as the pacing stops, Finn jumps out of bed and heads down to the basement.

   He’s been in here before, but he never enjoyed it. The stench of sweat is suffocating, mixing in with alcohol that Finn is fairly certain isn’t even legal in most places. The wooden floor creaks beneath his feet. One of the lights in the hallway blinks and then breaks, shattering glass over him. He wipes it away and continues walking until he reaches the very last rooms.

    There’s three of them currently in use. Finn knows this by the way the doors are tightly shut, though they’re not locked. Tommy likes giving his prisoners that temptation, the ease of escaping; it’s the fear that keeps them locked in there. If they want to leave, they can be his guest - it’ll be them crawling to reach the exit by the time they get to surface level.

     Finn turns the handle of the first door and pushes it open. The room is dark, but he flicks the light on when he steps inside and is immediately greeted by the sight of a middle aged man slumped over in a chair placed in the centre of the room. Blood dribbles from one of his eye sockets, and it’s only upon closer inspection does Finn realise that where once an eyeball should have been is now nothing. 

    He doesn’t flinch away. This is only light punishment, he knows.

    The man looks mildly familiar - a square jaw, hair going grey from either stress or old age, wearing clothes that once may have looked expensive but are now tattered and torn, hanging from his limp frame.

   Finn closes the door and takes another step forward. His shoe skids against the concrete, startling the man enough for him to look up.

    Finn grits his teeth. “That eye looks bad.”

   “Get out,” the man pants. “Get out and let me die.”

    And Finn is tempted to do just that - in reality, he doesn’t even know why he’s here in the first place. He should have stayed in bed, maybe snuck out to see you. 

    Instead he steps forward, just close enough to reach out and brush his hands through the mans hair. He pulls his head back to inspect the damage, baring the mans throat; it’s soaked in blood, but Finn can’t pinpoint where it’s coming from. “You shouldn’t have fucked with Thomas Shelby.”

    The man snorts. Blood runs from his nostril. “He’s got my family.”

  Finn pauses. “Your family?”

  “He took them. My kid, my wife. He took them both away because of the letter I sent. I don’t know where they are.”

   The other two closed - but not locked - doors. Finn glances over his shoulder, bites his bottom lip - he really shouldn’t be playing into this. He should be leaving, going back to his room and pretending this never happened. 

   He turns back to the man. “Did he tell you what he was going to do to them?”

  “I can only imagine the worst.”

  “Tommy isn’t a rapist.”

  The man smiles. Blood coats his teeth. “That’s what they all say.”

   Finn steps back, releasing the mans head. His chin crashes into his chest, his strength depleted to the point where he can’t even hold his own neck up. 

    “Please spare them,” the man whispers into his own sternum. “Please. Kill me, but spare them. My child - My child has so much potential.”

    Finn takes another step back. “I don’t control what Tommy does.”

  “Of course you don’t.” The man coughs. Blood splatters his chest. “He’s got all of you wrapped around his finger. He’s got you all bent to his every fucking will, doesn’t he?”

  “Shut your god damn mouth or I’ll end your family myself.” The words are sour, but he was taught to fight past the bitterness.

    The man groans. It’s a sound Finn has always associated with the end of life, a desperate noise. He takes a final step back, wraps his hand around the handle, makes to leave- 

    “Karma will get you, boy.”

    Finn closes his eyes and steps out of the room. That’s something he’s heard far too many times - he doesn’t understand why it still bothers him so.

    Once the door is closed - closed, but not locked - Finn leans against the far wall and glances at the two remaining rooms. Again, he tells himself this is a bad idea. If anyone were to come down and see him standing there, he would be in so much trouble.

    But he steps towards the first door and opens it up, because he feels like he should. He doesn’t owe that man anything, of course; it’s the man who threatened his family, who threatened Tommy’s wife, who doesn’t know his place in a time when it is most important to know exactly where you stand. Finn shouldn’t feel the need to do anything for him.

    But it’s really his own curiosity that drives him to it. He pushes open the door, turns on the light-

    And god, he should have just gone upstairs.

     Because there you are, head up, eyes alert in the way your fathers weren’t. You see Finn enter the room, and he hears you breaking into sobs almost immediately, and he panics. He panics so much, a leap in his heart that leaves him feeling breathless because he can feel the pull of his world as it is ripped apart completely. 

     “No.”

   The word falls from his lips, useless. 

   “No, Y/N, no.”

  “I didn’t think it was you,” you cry out. “Oh, Finn, I didn’t think-”

    He throws himself next to your chair, pulls on the handcuffs that he knows he will not have any chance of opening without a key. Your stuck to the chair, waiting for your death, and you’re in Finn’s basement, and you’re the love of Finn’s life and he can’t do anything.

    You’re sobbing so loudly now that Finn is certain one of his brothers will hear, will come down to get you to shut up, and they’ll see him and know everything. The punishment will be ten times worse - you, the person Finn has been ditching work to go see. You, the person who has got in the way of Finn dedicating his entire life to a cause he should have known he would be stuck in from day one.

    “Get out of here,” you demand through your sobs. Finn clambers to his feet, and your fingers reach out as far as they can, latch onto the sleeve of his coat even though you’ve just told him to leave. “Finn, is my dad alive?”

  “He’s alive,” Finn croaks out, because it’s not really a lie. 

   You close your eyes, biting your lower lip. Finn wants to kiss you so badly. He wants to hug you and hold you and drag you to a safe place he can’t quite think of right now, but is determined to figure out as soon as he possibly can. 

     “He messed up so bad,” you whisper. “One of the men - your men - told me my dad had sent a letter to Tommy, and he mentioned his wife, and I didn’t want to believe it was your Tommy they were talking about, but-”

  Finn drops to his knees and cups your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him through your tear-blurred eyes. “Listen to me, okay. I need you to calm down. Fucking calm down.”

   “Finn, I’m gonna die here. They told me they were going to kill me.”

  “They’re all talk.” The lie burns like acid crawling up his throat. “They won’t do anything. It’s your dad they’ve got the problem with.”

    You whimper.

   Finn leans his forehead against your own, gently stroking his thumbs along your cheeks. “I’ll talk to him, okay? Give me - Give me tonight. Can you stay in here for a night?”

    You shake your head.

   “Please,” Finn whispers. “A night. Tomorrow morning, everything will be sorted. I’ll make sure of it. Do you understand?”

    You nuzzle your head a little more forcefully against his own. “Please don’t leave.”

   Finn pats your cheeks and stands up, but it takes everything in him to do so. You look at him as he steps back, those pleading eyes breaking his heart, and he genuinely wonders what powers you have that have given you such a tight leash on Finn’s neck.

    “I’ll be back as soon as I can be,” he promises. “I love you. I love you, and that’s why I have to leave.”

   You purse your lips and nod. Finn recognises the look; you don’t really want him to leave, but you’ll agree because you love him back. You’re the first person in the world to truly, truly love him back, love him enough to let him go when he needs to go.

    “I love you,” he repeats, and when you nod again, he turns and flees from the room, darting up the stairs to Tommy’s office.

    He bursts in. Tommy, of course, is asleep, head tilted against his shoulder, a bottle of pills open on his bedside table alongside a half-drunk glass of whiskey. Finn doesn’t think about the consequences of waking Tommy up from a deep slumber - he’s in too deep by now. His panic has reached new levels, so it means nothing to him when he grabs Tommy’s quilt and rips it back.

    Tommy’s hand is around his neck in seconds.

   He’s slammed against the wall. Splinters dig into the thin fabric of his night shirt. His head throbs with the contact, and Tommy is snarling in his face like a lion about to feast on prey.

    “It’s me,” Finn calls out, grabbing his brothers arms. “Fucking hell, Tommy, it’s me!”

  Tommy reels back, grunting, running hands through his hair. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? I could have killed you!”

   “We need to talk.” Finn rubs his temples, waits for Tommy to turn, to give him his full attention.

   Tommy downs the remainder of his whiskey. “Well? What is it?”

  “You need to let those prisoners go.”

  Tommy pauses. Finn expected nothing different, of course, because it is so rare for someone to question Tommy’s authority. His older brother stares at him like he’s just grown a second head, and all Finn can do is wait lest he rock the boat any further than he’s already done.

    Tommy tilts his head. “I beg your fucking pardon?”

  “The prisoners,” Finn repeats, even though he knows that’s not really what Tommy is asking for. “At least the young one and the wife; they’re innocent, Tommy. They don’t deserve this.”

   Tommy scoffs. He scoffs, and with the noise, Finn can feel every last hope of his dwindling into nothingness; Tommy won’t pay him any attention. Tommy will call him a wimp, call him weak, a coward, and that will be the end of the conversation.

    But Finn is desperate. Never before has he been one hundred percent willing to beg for someone to listen to him, but god, he will gladly get on his knees and scream Tommy’s praises if it means budging his mindset even the tiniest bit right now.

     “Tommy, please,” Finn says through gritted teeth. “Just this one time. For me. Please.”

   Tommy raises a brow, and Finn knows he’s gone too far. He doesn’t care, though, not if it means giving you a chance.

    “What’s this really about, Finn?” Tommy asks.

   Finn looks to the floor. “For me, Tommy.”

   “Not until you tell me what’s going on.” 

    Part of Finn still wants to keep you a secret, even though he knows that’s not possible - not if he wants to give you a chance. So, with a deep breath to help ground him, Finn says, “I love them, Tommy. I love Y/N.”

    Tommy takes a minute. It’s silent. Downstairs, Finn can hear Arthur rattling around in the bar, no doubt making himself another drink, another amongst many. In this room, Finn’s skin burns with Tommy’s gaze.

    “What are you talking about?” Tommy says slowly. 

    “What you feel for Grace? Yeah, I feel that for Y/N. I have for a while now.”

    That’s the flood gates opened, and Finn knows this - he’s just admitted to seeing you outside of Tommy’s knowledge, has just admitted to falling in love with you when he should have been falling in love with the family business.

    Tommy is fully awake now. His eyes are alight, eyebrows raised. Veins pop from his arms, knuckles clenched as he tries his hardest not to draw back and punch his youngest brother - that won’t sound good to the people downstairs. That won’t fix the damage Finn has inflicted.

   “Did you do any research?” Tommy suddenly spits.

   “I didn’t - I didn’t know what their parents did, okay? I never asked!”

   “Well why the fuck not?” Tommy groans, spins on his heel, runs his hands through his already bed-messed hair. “Isn’t this just fucking wonderful? Exactly what we need. What do you think I’ll be able to do?”

    “Let Y/N go,” Finn suggests. “It’s their dad that’s done the damage. Y/N just wants to go home with her mum.”

   Something ticks in Tommy’s jaw. “You’ve really fucked my plans up, Finny Boy.”

   “I know. But I never ask you for fuck all, Tommy-”

   Tommy whirls around. “And I never ask you for fuck all, either! The least you can do is treat my business with a bit of respect! You’re out there giving your dick to anyone who asks for it, and now you’ve fallen in love with some mobster gangs whore-”

  Finn’s fist makes contact before he even realises he’s moved. 

   It’s the pain that gives it away, the pain suddenly cradling his wrist and his knuckles. And then he looks down, and Tommy is doubled over, sleeping pills making him too drowsy to do anything besides yell. Horror takes form in Finn’s stomach, and his jaw drops open, an apology leaping to the tip of his tongue, but then he remembers what Tommy said, and he can’t even bring himself to be sorry.

    “Y/N isn’t a whore,” Finn pants. 

    Slowly Tommy uncurls. There is blood on his lip that he wipes away with the back of his hand, looks at it once before he nods and says, “Fair enough.”

    “They aren’t,” Finn repeats. “Y/N loves me just as much as I love them.”

    “I get it, Finn.”

  “So let them go home. Punish whoever needs to be punished, but Y/N isn’t one of them.”

  “Alright, Finn-”

   “And I never ask you for anything, but just this once-”

    “Alright Finn!”

  Finn shuts up. Tommy pants. His eyes are dark and lowered, but they no longer hold the same fierceness they once did, which Finn takes as a good sign - maybe he’s calmed down. Maybe Tommy is seeing sense for once.

   “Alright,” the older Shelby repeats, softer this time. “I just want you to tell me how you and Y/N became acquainted.”

  “Why does that-”

  Tommy holds up a hand. “Just tell me, Finn.”

  And so Finn starts from the beginning. He describes seeing you that day, sitting in The Garrison with your study books scattered in front of you, how you hadn’t even looked up when Finn was stood over your table. He was meant to tell you to leave, but one look at your face and something inside him had stirred, and he sat down instead. That was the first conversation the two of you ever had, and Finn knew after the first few words that it wouldn’t be the last, he wouldn’t let it be the last. 

    “You were sneaking out?” Tommy says.

   Finn nods. 

   Tommy sighs, running a hand down his face. “What if one of our enemies saw you? What the fuck would we have done then?”

  “We were careful.”

  “Have you fucked?”

  Finn’s eyes snap up. “What-”

  Tommy raises a hand. “You know what, I’ll save that line of questioning for later.”

   Finn pauses. He isn’t sure where to go from here - if he pushes too hard, he might get on Tommy’s nerves and then there will be no way he’s getting what he wants. But he also hasn’t got a straight answer, and he doesn’t just want to leave without knowing the consequences that follow.

   He awkwardly kicks at the ground and says, “So what are you gonna do?”

    Tommy sighs. “You can release Y/N tonight, but the mother stays in there until tomorrow morning. The father…” His voice darkens. “I’ll handle him on my own.”

    Finn barely even hears those last few words. He’s pushing himself away from the wall halfway through Tommy’s sentence, throwing open the door and dashing back down into the basement. He can hear his heart thumping in his chest. It hurts, a physical pain right at his collarbone, but he doesn’t slow down until he’s reached the basement.

    And he sees your door is open.

   He falters on the steps, hand pressed against the cold concrete wall. He hears nothing - no footsteps, no screaming, no voices. Your door is just propped open, a little sliver of light crawling out. 

    Footsteps sound behind him. “What are you doing?”

   Finn leans back, bumping shoulders with Tommy as he gestures towards the door. “The door.”

   “What the fuck?”

    They all-but sprint down the hallway towards the door. Finn nearly slides, just barely managing to stop and swing himself into the room.

    “Oh fuck, Finn, no-”

  Tommy makes to grab for his arm, but it’s too late for that. Finn is already standing in the room, already standing in the little pool of blood, already frozen. The world is dribbling away around him. He can hear nothing, smell nothing, taste, see, feel nothing. 

     Because there he is. Arthur, his oldest brother, the person who used to tease him and protect him and make sure he had everything when it felt like he deserved nothing. He’s curled up in the corner of the room, an empty bottle of whiskey in his hand, a knife in his other. Cocaine coats his nose. He isn’t even conscious, probably doesn’t even know what he’s just done.

   And it’s clear as day what he’s just done, because whilst Arthur Shelby is slumped in the corner, you are slumped in your room with your throat cut.

     Finn isn’t sure if he screams, or if his voice breaks, or what he really does. One minute he has Tommy’s arms wrapping around his waist, trying to drag him out of the room, and the next Tommy is on the ground and he’s on his knees by your chair, grabbing your head and tilting it up so he can look into those lifeless eyes of yours.

    And they didn’t used to be lifeless. It was only a few minutes before - a few minutes too long - that he’d been talking to you, and you were crying but you were alive and that was enough.

     “No,” Finn chokes out. “Fuck, no, no, no, Tommy, do something!”

   Tommy looks up from the floor, eyes immediately shifting to Arthur. “Finn, I’m so sorry.”

   “No!” Finn punches the concrete floor, doesn’t even wince when his knuckles immediately open. “No! You said I could let them go. You said they could go home!”

    Tommy looks away.

   Finn falls to the floor again, scrambling forward to reach for your hand, nails coated in your own blood. He was so close, so fucking close to getting you home safely, just like he promised, just as he planned. But he was minutes too late, his brother having drank a few too many drinks, snorted a few too many lines.

     It’s just so strange how an entire future can be wiped out in the space of a few minutes, all because of a few mistakes.

    Finn’s hands are trembling when he finally stands up and unlocks your handcuffs. He feels like some kind of prison guard doing this, but he had no say in your imprisonment, had no choice, would have done everything in his god damn power to see you free again. But now he’s forced to scoop you from the chair, your head crashing against his shoulder, blood soaking his shirt almost see-through in two seconds flat. He closes his eyes, inhales and starts walking back up the stairs.

    Tommy calls after him. Arthur stirs, groans, shouts “Ay, Tommy!” before the sound of someone hitting concrete follows Finn up the stairs. Finn makes a mental reminder to thank Tommy for doing the thing he is too occupied to do.

    ----

     “You really loved them, didn’t you?”

   Finn nods, plucks at the loose threads on his trousers. Grace sits beside him, her warm Irish accent soothing him, but not enough for him to fall asleep. Grace has never suffered with insomnia quite like Finn has been suffering since your death, but she’s been making an effort to make sure Finn isn’t alone when he can’t sleep, even if it does eat into her own sleeping time.

    Finn appreciates it a little bit. Some nights he feels like he’d rather be alone, and some nights he craves your presence so much that sitting with Grace seems as close as he’s going to get, so he takes it anyway. It’s not the same, of course, but it’ll do - it’s all he has. 

    “Arthur’s sorry.” 

   “Arthur can fuck off.”

    “Arthur can fuck off, I agree.” Grace sighs, places a hand on Finn’s shoulder. “But I think you need to remember that Y/N was the most carefree, forgiving person on this fucking planet, Finn. They wouldn’t want you holding this against him forever.”

  This. As if that single word could ever mean anything, as if that single word was enough to describe the absolute horrors Arthur inflicted.

   And yes, Arthur has apologised. Yes, Arthur has stopped drinking, and he’s stopped taking drugs, and he’s trying so hard to prove to Finn that he truly, deeply regrets what he’s done, but fuck him. Finn doesn’t have time for it. He’s done forgiving, done forgetting - he’ll live in forever misery if he wants to.

    “Do you think you’ll ever be able to move on?”

   “No.” The answer is instantaneous, doesn’t take a moments thought.

   Grace nods like she understands. “Okay.”

   Finn curls his fingers against his thighs, inhales deeply and takes another swig of his whiskey.

    Another long night without you. He marks it off the calender.

[thosekidswhohuntmonsters]

Playing With Fire

Summary: Sure Tom is twice the readers age, but she's tired of being treated as some naive little thing. When she finally confronts Tom she soon finds out that she's playing with fire.

Word Count: 2780

Rating: v spicy, deff 18+

Authors note: almost finished reposting all my tom stories! woohoo! 

♡if you enjoy this fic you’re welcome to leave a reblog/like/comment! feedback is not only welcomed but encouraged!♡

The interviewer was nearly beaming, “So in the last trailer, there was quite the scene between you and Tom”. Instantly you smiled, knowing exactly what scene she was referencing. Without answering the question you teased, “That was in there for like a split second, how did you all pick up on it?”.

Anthony intervened, “Because it was you and Hiddleston getting it on...that’s all the world could ask for!”. The crowd ate up Anthony’s response, cheering wildly for him. Finally Tom spoke up, “I didn’t know our kiss had the ability to save an entire planet (y/n)”.

Turning to him you nodded your head, “I don’t know, it was a pretty good kiss”. While Tom tried to hide a blush, all the fans went wild again. Unable to resist you added, “I mean..am I wrong here or?”.

That caused you and all of your castmates to erupt with laughter. Evans shimmied a little bit, “Ohh (y/n) I think his inability to answer the question means it was”. You didn’t know who was more excited, the audience or the interviewer.

Quickly she added, “ I think the chemistry between your characters is quite prevolevent, we see sort of a build up in the last film and now it seems to be exploding”. Hoping you weren’t alone with the millions of dirty jokes filling your mind you turned to Sebastian, and the look on his face made you realize you weren’t the only one.

Anthony was more blunt, “Y’all are getting very creative with phrasing nowadays…”. The interviewer smiled, and she was nearly blushing herself. You laughed a little, “I was afraid I’d been the only one picking up on the double meanings here”.

Reeling you all back in as if you were children Tom finally spoke up. His voice was soft, “No other character has had an immediate effect on Loki in the way (y/n)’s character has. I think Taiki did a wonderful job in the last film not only introducing her, but almost showing her through Loki’s eyes at some points”.

He finished his sentence with a warm smile as he held your gaze. You smiled too, “Working with Taiki was amazing, I think he’s the reason why my character was able to flourish in the way she did. The response I’ve gotten from fans is just incredible”.

Evans made a face, “That was sweet, but neither of you answered the question. Let’s be real, Loki wants to smash”. Once again the entire room, the stage included, was filled with laughter.

Chris patted Tom’s shoulder, “I mean sorry bro but I’m right aren’t I?”. As if on cue the entire audience shouted back “yes” to Chris, only encouraging him. An eager hush fell over the room as everyone waited to see how you and Tom would respond.

Tom adjusted his glasses, “I mean..that’s one way to put it Chris. I’d much prefer to say that the desire from Loki’s side  is definitely there, but he’s trying to keep it hidden. It’s another internal battle Loki has with himself; to indulge in his feelings or remain closed off”.

Chris rolled his eyes at Tom’s nearly poetic response, but soon found himself smiling. All eyes turned to you, waiting to see your take on things. You saw hundreds of phones in the audience, all recording your next words.

“While I feel that my character is complex, and still developing on screen, I think she has more freedom. While she shares having a rough past with Loki, she uses hers as motivation to not waste any of her present. Chris put it beautifully, she wants to smash”.

It was so entertaining to see everyone's faces during your heartfelt answer, and the watch their reactions change completely. Tom was shaking his head but there was a clear smirk across his face.

The panel went on and you and your castmates continued to enjoy yourselves. With the movie coming out in a couple days, everyone was less stressed about having to keep secrets. You loved teasing Tom Holland about his spoiling, but you could relate to his stress.

After the panel had finally finished you were all moved to a waiting room. Instantly Evans asked, “So what are we all doing later?”. Everyone began throwing out different plans, naming certain bars and clubs, but Tom was silent.

Quietly you asked, “Are you seriously not going out with the group?”. He laughed softly before turning his head towards you. He whispered back, “Love I hate to disappoint but-”. Maybe it was because of his last breakup, but he’d been in a funk.

You didn’t even let him continue, “Fine if you’re not going out then I’m at least not letting you stay in alone”. Before he could protest Chris repeated over the final plans for tonight, the group reaching their consensus.

You smiled, “I’d love to see what drunk shenanigans you all get into, especially you Chris, but I think I’m tapping out tonight. Rain Check on making horrible decisions we’ll all regret in the morning?”.

Chris raised one of his eyebrows as he tried to figure out why you’d say no, sure you weren’t the biggest drinker but you’d always been down to come along. After finally putting things together he grinned, “Sure thing kid, I have a feeling you’re gonna enjoy yourself anyways”.

While the group continued to talk about what tonight would entail, you continued to hold Chris’s gaze. When he knew no one else was looking he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and mouthed, “finally”.

Knowing exactly what he’d meant you rolled your eyes overdramatically mouthing back, “Fuck off”. Chris laughed it off, knowing full well that you were just joking. He was one of your closest friends, and he knew nearly everything about you.

Mundane things like your favorite color and time of the year, but more interesting things like your turn offs’ and ons’, and especially the fact that you had a major crush on Tom Hiddleston.

Preparing for tonight everyone went their separate ways, different security guards escorting everyone to their rooms and such. As the room became empty Tom turned to you, “Love are you sure you don’t want to go out with the rest of the group?”.

You smiled, “One can always get drunk, but spending a night discovering what the Tom Hiddleston thinks is fun is a once in a lifetime opportunity”. Once again he tried to hold back a smirk, but couldn’t.

“Hate to disappoint but my night is going to begin in my hotel room”. You didn’t back down, infact Tom had no idea how that was all you’d ever wanted to hear. Boldly you teased, “Normally that's where a night ends”.

It felt good to see him laugh, especially if it was from something you’d said. As the guards let you both to the elevators he softly said, “Darling you are trouble”. You watched him bite his lip, and you thought you were going to explode right then and there.

Within a minute or two you were in his room, a huge fucking bundle of nerves but trying to mask it. As he closed the door you asked, “So let me guess, we start the night off with some tea?”.

He chuckled softly, “I was thinking wine”. You gasped while placing a hand over your heart, causing him to laugh once again from your teasing. Tom sat down on the bed and began calling room service.

While you waited you continued to look around the room, well really it was more of like a mini apartment. Something you’d never get used to was the rooms marvel put you all up in, it was much more luxurious than needed.

Tom’s drink choice only made your nerves only worse. He’d been acting as if this was going to be some boring night, but here you were dressed to the nines in his hotel room about to order a bottle of wine.

After you heard him hang up the phone you turned back around to face him. With fake casualness you asked, “What's next on the agenda?”. You were starting to think you had no idea where this night was going to go.

Tom began taking off his tie, “First I’m getting out of this bloody suit”. For a moment you blinked, pretty sure you were just dreaming at this point. After realizing you were staring you nodded your head.

“Oh you don’t know the half of it hun”. With that you stepped out of your heels and began taking off your jewelry. By now his button up was hanging loosely from his body, “Well you look ravishing”.

You were leaning against one of the bureaus, while he still sat down on the bed. You felt lighter now with most of your outfit off, “I’m on to you Tom, and your whole gentleman act”. He raised his eyebrows at you, still playing dumb.

“Anything leaving that pretty mouth of yours is trouble, but the word ravishing? Makes a girl feel all kinds of things”.

Slowly Tom’s tongue ran over his lips, before he bit his bottom lip altogether. You heard a knock on the door but before you answered it you repeated, “Trouble”. Tom never felt more connected to Loki than in this exact moment.

He was having his own internal struggle right now; to finally let you know how he feels, or to fight back the most intense feelings of desire he’s ever experienced. Throughout this entire night he’d slowly been losing; inviting you up to his room, ordering wine for you both, eyeing you like you were a meal, but he couldn’t help himself.

It didn’t help either that you’d been teasing him nonstop, it was like you were begging him to make a move. Leaning forward while taking off your shoes giving him a perfect look at your cleavage, teasing him about where a good night ends, it was all getting to him.

After tipping the hotel staff you entered back into the room, “Alright Hiddleston, let’s get down to it”. You’d pulled him out of his thoughts, causing him to finally look back up at you. Walking towards him you placed down the two glasses on the nightstand, still holding the bottle in your hands.

Tom was apprehensive, “And what exactly is it?”. You wiggled your eyebrows making him smile. After you both laughed you got serious, “This funk you’ve been in. Is it because your last rela-”.

He shook his head, his ex was the last thing he’d been thinking about. She’s left his mind months ago, and hadn’t entered his thoughts since. You on the other hand had nearly consumed him.

The only thing that stopped him was that he was nearly twice your age, you were only twenty-three. You were young, playful, a complete tease, but the worst part was that your qualities weren’t just skin deep.

You were also everything he’d ever wanted emotionally; always so concerned about your friends well being, empathetic, incredibly funny, so wonderful to your fans, and somehow much wiser than most people his age.

Getting up from the bed you began to pour yourself a glass, “Look, you can get tipsy and tell me what’s wrong or you can tell me when you’re sober and skip all the awkwardness of the morning after”. He shook his head, if you wanted honesty he’d give it to you.

“You sure you want the truth (y/n)?”. You nearly spit out your wine, was he being serious? Sarcastically you asked, “What can I not handle the truth?”. Your reaction caused Tom to shake his head.

“Darling, I think you’re being a little naive. You still have some-”. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, he was playing the age card. Sure you were younger, but hey you were older than Tom Holland!

You shook your head, “Oh so I’m too young and innocent now? What could you possibly have to say that my fragile little ears can’t handle?”. You could feel the moment escalating, especially with the look in his eyes.

His voice was sultry, “Oh love you’d be surprised”. You wanted to doubt him but the current look on his face sent shivers down your spine. Trying to regain your confidence you said, “Then surprise me”.

Tom got off of the bed completely, and started walking around the room. His tie had been loosely hanging around his neck but now he’d gripped it in his hands. It was like a prop, “For starters, you’re too seductive for your own good”.

God how did he make sex sound like shakespeare? Your eyes widened, “Tom what does that even mean?”. Sighing he ran his hands through his hair, he was trying to find the words. He looked to you again, “Do you have any idea of your affect on me? How flustered you make me in front of thousands?”.

As he continued he groaned, “God it just makes me want too-”. He stopped himself mid-sentence, knowing that he was going to shift the entire mood if he continued. By now he was standing in front of you, only inches away physically by a sea away mentally.

You looked up at him, “Makes you want to want? What does it make you want to do to me?”. He’d told you that you were playing with fire but you were calling his bluff. His voice was deeper now, “Little girls shouldn't play with fire”.

That sentence went right to your core. The thing was that Tom looked like he was enjoying himself while saying it, it was the most blissful he’d been in months. You licked your lips, “Are you afraid you’re going to take advantage of me somehow? I’m twenty-three years old Tom”.

As you continued you let one of your hands trail up your body, “You treat me like I’m some innocent fragile little girl, but I’m not as vanilla as you think”. Your response only seemed to amuse him more.

“Have you ever considered that I like that you’re older than me? I don’t want some little boy, I want a man. I want someone to take control, and satisfy my needs”.

His breathing was deeper now, any control he’d been clinging on to had now vanished. Leaning forward he placed his hands on either side of you, almost trapping your body. His voice was much deeper now, “Why don’t you really tell me what you want me to do”.

You leaned forward, “What? That I want you to fuck me like a real man? Pin me down and take me? I don’t know Tom, I’m so fragile and innocent I might break”. Your smirk was the largest it had been all night.

He let his hand trail softly down your cheek before gripping your chin tightly. Tom used his grip to tilt your head up and hold it firmly in place, “You little minx”. You licked your lips, you desire showing now more than ever.

“Look at you now, licking your lips inches from my throbbing cock. Is that what you want love, my cock wrapped around those pretty lips?”.

You nodded your head, convinced that if you tried to speak you’d just moan. Shaking his head he groaned again, he couldn’t believe how beautiful you looked. He’d never had someone look up at him so intoxicated before, and he imagined he’d been looking the same way at you.

Tom was letting himself go, finally indulging in ways he’d wanted too ever since your first scene together. He clicked his tongue, “As much as I’d love to see that, I think some payback is in order”.

To your surprise Tom got down on his knees before you, his face now level with yours. Slowly his hands ran up your thighs and pushed back your skirt, “Well darling, let’s hope you’re not this quiete for much longer”.

As you watched the smirk form upon his lips you knew his whole gentlemen act had finally been through completely out the door. You started to pull your dress off completely, “Be careful what you wish for babe”.

Using his grip on your thighs he pulled you closer to his mouth. His tongue darted out of his mouth and swept across his bottom lip, “And I’m trouble?”. Together you laughed for a moment, thankful for how effortless this all felt.

Tom was amazed how you could so easily flow from making him smile and laugh to wanting to rip your clothes off and pin you against the nearest wall. He decided that he didn’t want to waste anymore time thinking, and finally start doing.

♡ thank you for taking the time to read this, you’re a babe♡

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*forever tags are always open*

[dawn-aethwyn]

Healing

Dawn did as she was bid, the same as so many times before. How many times was it this week and the last that he had her draw aether from this meditation stone? Regardless, she was happy to oblige. She felt more invigorated, more lively- more whole as she did so. Whatever regimen he had working for her rehabilitation, it was working.

“... Alright…” a dry voice sounded. “Keep at it. Remember, don’t stop until you can’t draw any further, then keep going anyway. When you feel you can’t go any further, put one foot in front of the other and keep moving forward.”

A cacophony of thoughts rang in her head as she desperately tried to sort through them. Every time she drew from this stone she felt flooded with emotions she was a stranger to. In addition to that, she had wondered long and hard where Hadriel had obtained this ‘meditation’ stone. There’s no way a random stone was full of aether but at the same time, it felt as if her very own life essence was being restored. She wasn’t going to complain about that. But then… if this was a product of her rehabilitation, is it because he knew about her condition?

“You’re distracted.” his gruff judgement sounded. “Focus, stop thinking about irrelevant things and draw.”

She intensified her efforts but her mind couldn’t help but wander. Her interaction with Halia the night before was proof enough that she felt a change in her veins. She was always wanting to help others yet slowly she felt that interest wane as she was overcome by more selfish and base desires. Why shouldn’t she look out for herself? Why shouldn’t she focus on what’s right for her? Who cares what others feel? Everything she had experienced since her injury only lent credence to that thought. She shook her head violently.

“I told you to pay attention. Keep drawing aether.” he chided.

The focused beam that spilt from the soul crystal stopped as she spun her head in Hadriel’s direction. “Why?” she asked. She knew the pretense he was here under- to help her. Yet he had her drawing essence to restore her own, he must’ve known there was an aetherial deficit. He must have known of her condition, yet he didn’t speak on it. This wasn’t to restore her sight, that was for certain, so he must have had an ulterior motive. 

“Because Mira asked me to help you. There is nothing more to it. Now you’re wasting time, continue to dr-”

“No. There has to be more to it. No one does things for others selflessly. There’s no true altruism in this world. Only people who are waiting to take advantage of others.”

He chuckled a bit, “Ah, there it is. I was wondering when you would start being affected. Is the bitterness setting in? The anger? The doubt? Good. It only means you’re taking more and more of the aether into yourself.”

Her face flushed. She couldn’t see him but she could hear his laughter which infuriated her further. “What do you mean?! You were expecting me to get affected?!”

“What did you have left? Maybe a few months to live? Soul crystals host a fountain of aether from the people who left an imprint on it, small fragments of their souls absorbed over time. I’m letting you borrow more time from that since you were irresponsible and treated your own life and aether with wanton disregard.”

“...It won’t be enough.” 

She could hear him undo the top of his flask before he drank. Of course he was drinking. She heard a scoff.

“No, definitely not. Being able to convert your own life force to aether is a gift very few people have, and now that you’ve drained every bit of that gift that you possibly could, it’s time to find a new solution. If you’re able to convert aether one way, then you should be able to do the opposite. Convert it into your own life force. Frankly, I’ve never come across anyone like you so I don’t know the right answer, but right now, this is the only answer I have. Once you’ve learned to draw aether proficiently enough from living things around you, you should be able to survive. Not only that, you should be able to thrive. Sight would be restored to you through perception of aether, and the cost for that should no longer matter.”

“G-get out.” she seethed furiously. “I’m not a toy for you to watch writhe about.”

“I think you need a break.” he grabbed the soul crystal off her desk and hung it around his neck, tucking the pendant into his vest. “You’re doing fine. Trust me. Maybe later you can try again when you calm down ...I’ll be seeing you.”

Her erratic breath seemed to calm a bit after he left. What was she angry about again? She shook her head as her grip along the desk loosened. “W-what?” she whispered to herself. She wanted to be mad at him, at something, at anything. She breathed in sharply in an attempt to gather herself. A shaky breath escaped her lips. “I’m okay… I’m okay…” she uttered to herself as she had done a hundred times before.

Her hand expanded before her as she focused her aether again, using a practiced hand to bring forth White Magicka. A flare of abyssal energies flashed in her palm instead.

 “...I’m okay.”

The door had shut and opened once more as someone walked into the clinic, “Ah, I’m looking for a Mizuna --” It certainly wasn’t Dawn’s male guest from earlier.

Dawn shut her fist and extinguished the abyssal flame that lingered in her grasp. She moved to place a rounded pair of sunglasses on to cover her unfocused gaze. “Oh? Mizuna is not here, perhaps I can be of some help?”

“I see, she’s the one that stitched me up some couple of weeks ago. The stitches are -- well I’m about to cut them out myself if someone doesn’t remove the damn things from my arm.” she watched the woman -- clinics just weren’t her thing. Nijah lifted a hand through her bangs, “She also mentioned something about a checkup but I suppose I could just schedule something while I’m here?”

The White Mage shook her head, “I’ll help you remove the stitches, as for the checkup; she can do that on her own time. Please...” she gestured toward one of the rooms and shifted over to slide the curtains aside, “...Take a seat on the table.”

The Ala Mhigan woman nodded, not that she knew Dawn couldn’t see, she hadn’t met the woman in her life. Doing as she was bid, Nijah took a seat along the table as instructed and removed her glove.

Dawn had reached for some tools and vials about the room, all while feeling for stickers along them with little raised dots. She grabbed a towel and placed it on the tray before setting it beside the patient. “Which arm was it again?”

“...Right.” Nijah furrowed a brow and held out her arm to the woman, “Didn’t count how many she actually shoved in there.”

Dawn meandered a couple feet away to the sink, washing her hands. “May I touch you?” she asked as she approached again, her head tilted.

“Well yeah, you’re kinda gonna have to.” she huffed and shoved her arm in the woman’s direction, each stitch itching for freedom and she was trying her best not to scratch.

The medical professional gave a smile, if it wasn’t clear before, it was made clear now that she couldn’t see as she felt for Nijah, finding her arm and running her hands along her skin. She felt the stitches along her forearm. “Ah, there they are, please keep your arm out.” she moved to pour one of the vials onto one of the hand-towels she had prepared. Dawn dabbed the towel along Nijah’s stitching, “Feels like it was a deep laceration… about five ilms long? About twenty stitches? I would’ve gone with more just to be safe… but it seems like you’ve healed fine. Let me clean the area right quick.” The cloth smelled strongly of alcohol.

Nijah could only stare as the woman who felt her way around was tending to her arm. She had to have been crazy to stay any longer and possibly let a blind woman come at her with the Gods know what, “You work here?” she asked. It was better than sitting in awkward silence as the Doctor went about her work, “Never seen you before.”

A sly smile wore about her features as she continued to press the cloth into Nijah’s patched laceration. “And I’ve never seen you before either. Nice to meet you.” She responded before tossing the towel into a bin, “My name is Dawn, and I was hired here to be the staff physician.” her hands ran delicately to identify where the plastic stitches were again before she grabbed a pair of suture scissors in one hand, keeping the other along the injury. “I don’t feel any inflammation and the wound seems to have closed so I will be removing the stitches. They might hurt as I cut and pull them out though.”

“Nijah.” she responded kindly enough and she knit her brow to watch as Dawn continued, “Mizuna was the one that was seen to me and thankfully I have enough know-how when it comes to cleaning wounds to make sure my limbs don’t fall off.”

Dawn gave a light, awkward giggle, “Well, you won’t have to worry about that. I’ll clean your wound again after we remove the stitches.” The woman moved quickly and methodically to feel at the stitches and adjusted the scissors along each before snipping away and pulling them out carefully. She listened and felt for Nijah’s reaction between each removal before she placed every suture onto the tray next to them. Each went without a fuss. She figured Nijah must have been good at not reacting to sharp pangs of pain.

“You’re confident in your work at least, most wouldn’t even attempt to try and do what you’re doing.”

“Oh? I suppose. I wouldn’t imagine many people would try to remove your stitches if they weren’t trained to do so. At least, I hope they wouldn’t.” Dawn spoke as she snipped and removed the last few sutures.

“I used to before I had access to a medic all the time, like this. Growing up in Ul’dah we sort of just made due with what we had.”

“Well, I would have to advise against you doing that anymore and ask that you come to me from now on.” she gave a polite smile in Nijah’s direction. It was a bit off from where she should have turned her head but in the right area nevertheless. “Though it’s already a good enough sign that you will since you came here in the first place. There.” She removed the last suture and placed it on the tray. She grabbed another hand-towel she had prepared and popped another vial. “This might hurt too.” After pouring the liquid onto the cloth she pressed firmly along the laceration and removed stitches, digging her fingers into where Nijah had been cut. “It’s an antibiotic. Since I just removed your sutures they’re practically open wounds. Best to be safe. Sorry if it hurts.”

Nijah did cringe a moment and sucked in a breath, watching the Doctor go about her business but it was all part of the process, right? At least she had got to the lengths Mizuna had not, “Thanks.” she huffed out, “I’ll be sure to remember that.”

“You know… your voice sounds very familiar.” she commented, squeezing even harder onto the wound as she moved the cloth along it, bit by bit.

“Familiar? I’ve been here for a long time.”

“Hmn.” she sounded, nails digging along the cloth to reach deeper into the wound. A few of the holes left from the stitching left a crimson stain along the towel.

“Longer than most.” she finished and her free hand took hold of Dawn’s wrist at her other arm, “I think ...it's clean now, Doc.” she hissed out ever so lightly at the sting at her flesh.

The pleasant smile wore on her features as she looked toward Nijah. The patient’s features lit up a bright blue outline along her flesh. She was seeing her through traces of aether. It came to her as if it were second nature, as if she had used this approach for years. In a blink the darkness returned and the blue hues dissipated. Dawn maintained a painful grip, “I told you it will hurt, if we don’t get the antibiotics deep into the open punctures from the stitching, it might cause an infection. Trust me, a little pain now will save a lot of stress later. Unless you’re not partial to this limb; then I can skip this.”

Of course Nijah was no medical expert but she was perceptive enough to know that the point of fixing wounds was to mend them, not reopen them. She held firm to the woman’s wrist and attempted to pry her hand away while shifting from the table, “I think it’s good, albeit bleeding again but. We’re good Doc.”

The White Mage laughed lightly after her hand was pried off of the wound. “Better safe than sorry, I say. I don’t want you to get an infection.” Her stance adjusted to face Nijah as she moved off the table. Dawn reached for the tray and felt at a couple of the vials that had not been used, “Here. These are antibiotics. You probably won’t need them but it’s better to take them and not need them, then need them and not have them.”

Nijah had taken the offered vials giving the woman an odd look, “Right.” pursing her lips, she gazed over the given vials, “Thanks… Doc.”

Dawn simply offered a polite grin and parroted the words that kept ringing in her head, “Good luck.”