#and also it's cool i still know how to do anything on the piano loll

[keeps-ache]

got the piano set up so my brother and i have discovered we have the ability to make the Dreariest tunes ~+~anytime~+~ :3

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Alice of Human Sacrifice

[Tour]

title has absolutely nothing to do with the fic, i just listened to the song again and thought it sounded cool

Tw: Suicidal thoughts, skin picking

———————

Howard found her collapsed on the ground, face-down, like the dead bodies in those forensic shows Bessie liked to watch. She was bent in the way the bodies usually were, too, with her arms crooked and elbows pointing out, and her knees at an awkward angle. And, also like those bodies, she wasn’t moving at all.

She could leave. Howard has just come back into the theater for the book she had forgotten. She could leave and pretend she hadn’t seen anything. This was not her problem.

And yet, she was stepping forward from the hallway and into the cluttered dressing room.

She kept telling her, what if this was her on the floor? She would want someone to help her. She wouldn’t want to be left all alone with whatever ailment had caused her to blackout in the first place.

“Joan?” She called out.

The girl on the floor didn’t budge.

Howard crouched down next to her and gently nudged her arm.

“Joan. Are you there? Can you hear me?”

Nothing.

Howard pursed her lips. Carefully, she rolled Joan onto her back.

Joan wasn’t as filled out as she used to be. Even in her past life, Joan was thin, but at least her face wasn’t as lean as it was now, with sharp jawbones and deep hollows under her eyes. She looked so frail, sickly even, as Anne had once said. While unconscious, that comment seemed so much more accurate.

Joan did look ill. She was paler than usual, making the bags under her eyes and the flush on her nose and cheeks appear even darker. A slight fever was lit beneath her skin when Howard felt her forehead.

That contact was what finally roused her.

“Joan?” Howard peered down at the icy blue eyes peeking out from behind fluttering eyelids. “Joan, it’s Katherine. Are you alright?”

Joan mumbled something incomprehensible. Her head lolled across the ground as she blearily stared up at the ceiling. She still didn’t appear all that there.

“Joan.” Howard shook her slightly. “Come on, Joan. Wake up.”

“...c-can’t...”

It was such a weak, pathetic reply that Howard couldn’t even muster up the effort to be annoyed. The girl below her was just so damn pitiful. She couldn’t snap at her when she was being looked at with those big, dumb eyes.

“I-I’m sorry...” Joan croaked.

Her eyes then rolled to the back of her head and she once again fell into a pit of unconsciousness.

 Just leave her. A crueler, more repressed side of Howard whispered. She isn’t your problem.

She hates how she considers it. But it was true. As pitiful as she was, Joan wasn’t anyone close to her. She didn’t care about her like she cared about the other queens or Bessie. She wasn’t anyone’s special to her.

So why was she picking Joan up? Why was she carrying her to her car and carefully putting her in the back seat? Why was she putting herself through the hassle of going to the hospital? And why did she care?

———

Hiding her problems from the others was easier than she expected it to be.

She thinks, as some point, that they did their best to make her feel included and a part of the group, but they’ve given up since then. They’ve marked her as a lost cause and have moved on. And Joan doesn’t blame them.

She was falling deeper and deeper into depression as the days went by.

She can’t remember when it started, she just knows it came about from lack of attention and lack of love and lack of friendship and lack of everything. And that was pathetic.

Above all else, she seeked the approval of others. Why couldn’t she function without it? Why has she turned into such a mess?

What’s happening to her?

She stopped eating awhile ago. The hunger pains are awful, but at least nobody paid enough attention to her to hear the desperate growls of her stomach. Sleep went next, and then speaking to others, and then water.

On top of depriving her body of all of its basic needs, she’s taken to overworking herself after practice or shows were over. She’d tell everyone that she’s just staying to work on new songs or mixes, and it’s not like they think much of it or care, but she’s constantly pushing herself to the point where she can’t breathe during a simple rehearsal of No Way.

(Let’s see if you can hold your breath for the entirety of All You Wanna Do, Her mind will sometimes whisper.)

Another nasty habit that had come back was her skin picking. Picking wasn’t an act of needing attention, like she knew she would be accused of if people found out, it was more of an act to get adrenaline, to escape the constant pain and anxiety that thrummed through her body on the daily. Letting her fingernails carve off pieces of her skin, scratching away the dead, bad parts of her, deeper and deeper each time, just released the most amazing endorphins that she couldn’t even begin to explain. It was like she was floating. And it was the only thing that made her slightly happy anymore, as disgusting as that may have seemed.

She soon created a ritual for herself. After working her body to almost complete fatigue, she would stand in front of her mirror, take off her shirt, and stare at her body. She would name the few things that she had started to like in her head then list all of the bad things she needed to get rid of.

Disgusting.

Freak.

Outcast.

Pathetic.

Words would swim through her head, blinding her by the intensity of the emotion in those words. These were words that she saw some fans write on posts she would make, whether they be piano covers or, more embarrassingly, song covers. Those always got the most backlash- “u sound like shit” “why are you even trying? You’ll never be as good as the queens” “Are you trying to one-up the queens?” “Why are you singing Katherine’s song? That’s so rude!! It’s not about you!! You’re awful!” “my ears are bleeding!!!!”- and everything that was said piled up in her head, even after she frantically deleted the posts.

It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the positive comments when they came about, they brought tears to her eyes by the sincerity in them. But those dozens of people who hated her... She just couldn’t take it. It’s helped drive her down a terrible path of destruction that she can’t seem to get off. All she ever wanted was to prove to the queens and other ladies that she was worthy of their attention, their love, their praises. But now she’s turned herself into some self destructive freak that will never, ever be loved.

Still, she wonders why someone is touching her. And carrying her.

She can feel their arms supporting her and she leaned into their warmth. She wanted to call out to them, to thank them, to beg them to never let her go, but she can’t speak and blackness is starting to encompass the little vision she has left...

———

Howard doesn’t know how long she waits in the lobby of the A and E, but it’s definitely long enough for the man sitting to her far left to stop bleeding from the large gash on his arm and consider just leaving. He doesn’t, although Howard can see her weigh out the options in his eyes.

There’s other people in pretty rough shape in there- a sick young man in the corner looking like he regretted every decision he’s ever made in his entire life; a teenager who /didn’t/ regret every decision he’s ever made in his entire life, but definitely wished he didn’t go with a stick-and-poke method of getting a tattoo; a quiet-looking girl who stared at the white walls around her with wide eyes and also had her right arm horribly limp at her side; someone whose jaw was unhinged like a snake...there were enough characters in this place to make an entire circus.

Eventually, she was called, so she scooped Joan up from where she had her slumped in the chair beside her and followed the nurse into the back. Then, after Joan is set up in one of the rooms, it’s back to waiting.

She was /really/ starting to wish she had just left Joan. This was ridiculous!

A buzz snapped Howard out of her trance. She blinked and squinted at her phone, which she had been mindlessly scrolling through, and saw that she had gotten a text from Anne on the group chat they were in with the other queens.

Anne: where r u?

She had completely forgotten to tell the others about her impromptu caretaker status.

Katherine: Passcode question: What’s my favourite drink?

What? She may as well TRY to entertain herself while she’s sitting here rotting away.

Anne: come on, kit, i gave u the code this morning. i don’t think the answer has changed in the twelve hours since we spoke.

Anna: is this just a thing you two do???? i’ve never gotten a passcode before

Katherine: Passcode question: What’s my favourite drink?

Anne: fine!

Anne: raspberry tea with lemon

Anne: happy?

Katherine: Very.

Katherine: I’m at the A and E.

Anne: WHAT

Aragon: What happened?

Jane: Are you alright?!

Anna: woah woah woah are you okay?!?!

Cathy: Are you okay?

Anne: KAT ANSWER US NOW

Howard smiled to herself. It was nice to have people that cared so much about her.

Katherine: Calm down, I’m fine! I just had to take Joan and now I have to stay here until she’s done being examined or something. I found her collapsed on the floor.

There was a momentary pause from all parties.

Aragon: Oh dear.

Jane: Poor Kitty. Having to stay in such a place for so long. Hopefully you can leave soon!

Anna: oh that kinda sucks. having to stay awhile. they take FOREVER.

Anne: what if i came and picked u up? i can smuggle u out so u don’t have to stay!!

Howard blinked. How weird. None of them seemed to be worried about Joan at all.

Katherine: What about Joan?

Anne: what about her?

She toiled over the option in her head- finally going home would be nice. She was quite hungry and had been looking forward to the weekly movie night that night. It was her turn to pick!

But she couldn’t leave. She had already given the hospital all her information, so they’d probably find a way to drag her back. And she couldn’t leave Joan.

Katherine: As much as I want to, I can’t.

Anne: hm. suit urself.

It was at that moment when Howard’s name was called. She tucked her phone away and got up to meet the nurse standing at the back doorway.

“Joan is stable,” The nurse explained after they took a peek into the room the music director was being kept in. Joan somehow looked even more vulnerable in a hospital bed, caught in a tangle of wires and tubes. “We have her on fluids right now so she’ll get rehydrated. She’ll be able to leave soon.”

Howard nodded, her heart leaping with relief. However, it was stamped back down when the nurse went on speaking.

“But she will need to be taken home and watched over.” The nurse said. She looked Howard up and down. “You said you were a coworker, yes? Do you know if any of her family members are willing to come get her?”

“Oh, uhh...” Howard had no idea how to explain that she and Joan both were actually reincarnated beings from the 1500s and not just some people who happen to have the same names as the past queen of England and a lady in waiting. “It’s not really the best situation...”

“Ah,” The nurse nodded, seemingly buying the excuse, which wasn’t exactly a lie. “I see. Well, does she have any friends?”

Howard struggled not to grimace, but the nurse seemed to notice.

“What about you? Can you take her?”

“Me?” Howard blinked. “Well-“

“She won’t be able to leave until someone picks her up,” The nurse continued. “We’ll have to keep her here until we know someone can watch over her for a few days.”

Howard bit her lip. If the nurse was trying to guilt her into taking care of Joan, then it was definitely working.

She sighed. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

———

Joan’s apartment was exactly what Howard was expecting- bare, cold, and empty, aside from all the necessities. There were no potted plants or decorations or photos. The walls were just plain cream against regular pieces of furniture. Dreary grey and ugly brown and plain white splattered the flat, which almost seemed more like a cell.

No wonder Joan was so miserable.

“W-well, umm...” Joan looked very anxious- it’s the only expression that’s been on her face since she woke up in the hospital. “I-I could- y-you- umm...”

It was so sad. How could someone be so nervous all the time? Surely it wasn’t healthy.

“Just sit down, dear,” Howard pressed Joan down onto the couch. “I’m going to take care of you, so there’s no need to stress yourself out.”

“There’s every reason to be stressed,” Joan mumbled, worriedly wringing her hands in her shirt. “I— I should make you something to eat!”

She’s on her feet in an instant, instantly wobbling treacherously on her weak legs. Howard lunged out and steadied her.

“Woah there!” She said. “Joan, take it easy. You’re not well.”

“But you need to eat,” Joan reprimanded. “A-and so do I...”

“Then I’ll cook for you.”

“N-no,” Joan whispered softly. “No, Katherine, p-please- I need to do this. I need to be useful.”

Howard frowned, then sighed. “Alright.”

They soon got to work. As they did so, Howard noticed Joan loosen up a little. Despite the girl looking completely exhausted, she seemed to be slightly more happy than she was before, relaxed with the presence of another person.

“So...” Howard started awkwardly. She didn’t know what to talk about with this girl. “How have you, uhh...been?”

“Fins... WELL.”

Words more or less began to fly from Joan’s mouth like uncovered popcorn on a hot surface. It seemed like she had been bottling up a lot, or maybe she was just afraid of not getting to talk fully if she didn’t speak fast enough.

Poor kid, Howard thought, She must be so lonely.

“Yesterday was shit.” Joan spit, and Howard was slightly stunned to hear the usually very timid and quiet girl swear, “I fucked up another thing at work because I’ve been so drowsy and the stage manager said it was okay pretty much only because he understood that this was a—“ She paused to do air quotes with her fingers. “—‘rough time' for me. And I thought that was literally the stupidest understatement I've ever heard so I was thinking about it all day and getting really mad and then, like, out of nowhere I thought, dude, it IS a fucking rough time for me, and I decided to do something nice and fun and go out and buy groceries like my—“ She paused again to do quotation marks again, although, this time, it made the statement being quoted a little more sketchy, “—‘therapist’ said I should, but then I accidentally told the cashier that I loved her instead of saying thank you and now I’m never going back there ever again, and than I started thinking about THAT all day and then, well— I guess I passed out? Because you found me...and helped me... Oh, thanks, by the way! I, ahh, honestly thought you would have left me. But you didn’t! So yay! Thank you! Also, do you like oatmeal?”

Everything came at Howard so fast her mind had to scramble to process everything.

The first thing that registered in her mind, however, was Joan’s final comment- about her not leaving her. A feeling of guilt welled up inside of her.

But then Joan flashed a rare grin at her and she couldn’t help but smile as well.

In stark contrast to the (relatively) sharply-dressed girl the woman met a year ago, Joan was dressed in baggy sweatpants and an even baggier shirt with the words “Trust me, I’m a doctor” and a picture of a plague doctor on it, which has been the clothes she had found her unconscious in. The head poking out at the top had hair that was sticking out in all directions. It made her look smaller and lankier than she was. Younger, too. Sometimes Howard had a hard time believing she was college aged.

The sight made Howard’s heart ache in realization because it was a reminder of how unfair everything she’d gone through was. It wasn’t until that moment that she really remembered that Joan had watched her die.

“That’s a lot,” Howard finally said, then glanced over at the pot bubbling on the stove. “So...oatmeal?”

“Aaaaand cinnamon toast!”

“You’ve got everything sorted out, huh?”

“Pretty sure,” Joan said, “I’ve, umm...kinda been thinking about what I’d want to eat if friends were ever over.” She blushed shyly, messing with the hem of her shirt.

Once again, Howard’s heart ached.

How long has this girl been alone...?

“Wanna help with the toast?”

“Y’know, I make a pretty mean cinnamon toast.”

A crooked grin replaced the plaintive look Joan had been wearing, and she turned around to pick up a loaf of bread. “You know I’m not gonna believe that until I taste it, right?”

“Heh. Guess I’d better back up the claim, then.”

Joan beamed magnanimously and handed Howard the loaf, which she set down on a nearby cutting board. With a rumbly clearing of the throat, Howard pushed her sleeves up and rubbed her hands together.

“Alright. Melt a little butter in the microwave and grab that cinnamon I see over there. If I’m gonna make this bread, I’m gonna do it right.”

“Yes ma’am!”

They set to work with a bustle as Howard cut the bread and Joan retrieved the necessary ingredients and dropped them on the counter next to her, pausing every so often to check on the oatmeal bubbling on the stove.

“Hey, you mind if I unmute the TV or put on some music or something? I need some background noise.” Joan said after a while, nodding in the direction of the radio on the counter and then glancing momentarily at the TV.

“Sure,” Howard said, “Just keep it down so we don’t disturb the neighbors. And none of that skippity-bop or whatever it is you kids listen to. I don’t have the stomach for that.��

She was teasing Joan by acting older than she actually was, and the sickened look the girl gave her was completely worth it. Howard bursted into laughter.

“It’s called hip hop , Howard. God. I know you aren’t THAT old! What are you, twenty-two?”

“You are now my new favorite.”

Joan beamed at that then padded over to the radio. She began tuning it to different kinds of music stations until a thumping electric beat started to pulse in the air.

“You want the neighbors to think you’re holding a dance party or something?”

“Maybe I do!”

Howard chuckled. “Can you grab a tray I can stick these on?”

“Yeah!”

Joan bent down to retrieve a baking tray from the clutter of pans in a lower drawer, and by the time she’d straightened up, she already had another idea.

“Oh man! You know what’d be great? I have about five billion kinds of lettuce in the fridge because I was dumb and went shopping while I was hungry the other day. We should have a salad! Caesar! With croutons and crap!”

“You can leave the crap off of mine, thanks.”

“You know what I mean,” Joan hissed playfully. “Here’s the tray. I’ll go start watching the lettuce!”

Joan threw open the fridge and leaned in, gathering armfuls of vegetables. Howard watched this with a fond shake of the head before returning to her own task. It sent a pang through her chest, brushing the butter and sugar and cinnamon across the fluffy bread like she vaguely had all those centuries ago, before her life turned into a spiral of unwanted sex and grabbing hands and unreceived loads of semen...but it wasn’t so bad. Being in a bright kitchen and listening to music she’d never willingly put on of her own volition was miles better than trying to do the same thing in her own one. She had the queens now, too. She wasn’t alone. And, with Joan around and doing this with her...Howard felt like a mother.

A timer buzzed and she sidled over herself, seeing as Joan was already occupied. When she stood straight again after sliding the pan of bread into its place, she wiped the sweat from her brow and looked back over to her young chef companion— only to find her rocking and head-bobbing in place as she shredded lettuce with her bare hands, tossing it into the bowl in time to the punchy music on the radio. Howard found herself shaking her head again, this time in amusement.

“Glad you’re happier than you were when we first got here.”

(It wasn’t just when she found her- Joan always looked like she had been hit by a truck with acid wheels, her remains were burned by a flamethrower, and then she was poorly put back together.)

“Mm,” Joan replied distractedly, snapping her fingers jauntily to the tune. “I'm not, actually. I’m just kinda faking it ‘till I make it. You know?”

“Oh,” Said Howard, suddenly feeling very worried. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“S’okay. Means I’m doing it right.”

Before Howard had a chance to ask if she was okay with her Mummy Voice, as Bessie has dubbed it, the song on the radio changed and Joan’s eyes lit up.

“Oh man! I love this song!”

She flung the last of the lettuce leaves into the bowl and started to dance even more enthusiastically (and goofily), pumping her fists in the air.

“Wait, don’t tell me this is-“

“It’s Smash Mouth! The ballad of the 90s! Shrek’s theme song! You’ve seen Shrek, Bessie said she made you watch it with her last month. C’mon, dance with me!"

The worry quickly became a mixture of exasperation and amusement.

“Joan, I don’t think-”

“Come on! You dance all the time in the show! And you don’t have to break a hip or anything, just move around a little! It’s impossible to be completely bummed when you’re dancing.”

Howard closed her eyes and sighed deeply. Then started to slowly step side to side.

“—Aw man, NO. Is that the Carlton? NO.”

“Hey, you whelp, don't make fun. There is NOTHING wrong with the Carlton."

“NOPE. Not allowed! Jazz it up a lil!”

Finally succumbing to deep laughter, the queen found herself picking up her feet and turning in place. And, as an afterthought, even threw in some jazz hands.

After all, what could it hurt?

[sleepypeaky]

{getaway} final, pt.4

Reader is the Blinder’s chauffeur….naturally that entails getaway driving too

Part 4/4 ———-part 1, part 2 , part 3

also this was unintentional but the reader is gender neutral

WC: 1458

Warnings: Shooting, blood, dramaaa

A/n: set just after season 5, like the day after the last episode.

and no this isnt historically accurate obvs but i had to do it to write the fucking thing

tnis is so fun to write so try and stop me. this is kind of a Finn x reader?? idk?? finn is my wife?? but he also smol gay boi?? im confused.

“Where’s Finn!?!” Ada yelled as she kicked open the door to Tommy’s study.

Tommy was at his desk with his head down. Arthur ventured to answer,

“We haven’t seen him since the speech. Johnny Dogs said (y/n) went to look for him.”

“Arthur that was 12 hours ago! They could be hurt!”

RING

Tommy raised his head and grabbed the phone.

“What?”

He eyes widened.

He slammed the phone back down on the receiver, and scrambled to his feet.

“Mosley’s been shot.”

They stared at each other.

Ada gasped.

“Oh my god.”

They all ran out the door.

“NO NO NO NO FUCK! FUCK!” You screamed into the steering wheel.

To say that you were speeding was an understatement, you were going so fast that you weren’t sure the car could handle it.

And at the same time, to make things even more dangerous, you were flicking your gaze to Finn’s marbled complection. 

“Finn Finn come on come onnnn!” You slapped his face lightly, trying to wake him up.

He made a breathy groan, you weren’t sure if it was voluntary, but at least he was alive.

You cursed yourself,

“FUCK (y/n)!! WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING!” You yanked the wheel to the right and were thrown along with it as the car screeched into the direction you gave it.

You were almost at the hospital. It wasn’t smart considering what had just happened, but by the amount of blood you figured it was either this or him dying, and you were not taking that chance.

And this was far enough away that maybe it would just be passed off as a casualty of one of the many daily gang shootings.

You tore into the hospital driveway and slammed on the brakes, the tires were so shot from the drive that you skidded about 3 feet.

Throwing open the door and screaming for help, you sprinted around the car and flung open the passenger side door, grabbing finn’s face in you hands and trying to call him out of the depths of his mind.

“Finn finn wake up please please.” You cried.

His head lolled in your hands, but his eyelids fluttered, you whimpered with relief.

Two men with a stretcher came up behind you.

You let them to him and watched as they ran him inside.

Your legs, as heavy as led, followed suit.

_______________

Ada sat frozen in the passenger seat of the car. A million thoughts going through her head.

She had her eyes pressed shut, hoping to anyone that would listen that her suspicions weren’t true.

Tommy’s hands were gripping the steering wheel so hard they resembled a skeleton’s. His face was in its usual stone mask, but his eyes were wind and active, no doubt thinking the same thoughts as Ava.

Arthur was silent in the backseat.

They pulled up to the scene and halted the car. Police were everywhere. The rain obscured the scene and oddly made it seem less intense than it was.

Two black tarps lay out on the ground.

Tommy sped over to them and in one swift motion, looked under each. The officers on the scene had recognized him and were awaiting his arrival, so they let this trespassing happen.

Though he let none of this show on his face, Tommy stood up and was relieved, both in seeing Mosley with half a skull, and seeing that the other body wasn’t Finn.

Maybe he wasn’t involved after all.

Nevertheless, before he went to speak to the press and police, he nodded to Ada: the signal to check the hospitals just in case.

_________

“I’m sorry you can’t come in here.”

A nurse grabbed your arm.

You looked at her in a daze,

“but..but...”

She looked apologetic and led you to a chair.

You looked down at yourself: your left shirt sleeve was drenched up to the elbow in blood from holding onto him during the car ride. As well as many other spaces on your clothes. And no doubt the car seat was completely ruined.

But all that was moot. 

Because you gave into Finn he was fucking bleeding out in the other room. Why didn’t you just fucking say no? No Finn, we are not going to assassinate a parliament member. No Finn, i won’t drive you. Maybe you thought that you being there would somehow protect him? Doesn’t matter.

You leaned your head back against the wall and closed your eyes.

You sat like that for who-knows-how long when you heard your name called.

“(y/n)!?”

You stumbled to you feet, looking around for the nurse who called your name. Instead, you locked eyes with Ada.

A sob escaped your mouth as she ran towards you.

“Jesus fuck (y/n)! What happened?!” She held you.

You lowered you voice, 

“I don’t know why i didn’t stop him. I could have but didn’t.”

She inhaled and nodded softly,

“It was you then.” She whispered.

You nodded,

“So fucking stupid–”

“At least you were fuckin’ there! If you weren’t there he would be under that black tarp with the faschist.” She harsh-whispered.

I made you feel a tad better, but still.

_____

Polly walked to the ringing phone with a usual speed.

“Hello?”

“Pol, it’s Ada.”

She tilted her head,

“What happened.”

Ada sighed over the phone,

“Finn is in the hospital, i’ll explain when you get here.”

“Jesus– not again. I’ll be right there.”

She shook her head and went to the door.

_______

“HE DID WHAT?!”

“Shhhh! Pol!”

Polly looked around to see if she was the only sane person in the room. Surely it wasn’t out of line to react like this.

She looked over at where you were sitting, still covered in blood and leaning on your hand.

“This family needs to calm the fuck down.”

“Not likely, pol.”

_____

The appearance of feet in your sightline brought you back to reality.

You looked up.

“He’s resting now, he’ll be ok.”

You stood up, shaky.

You gestured to Polly and Ada.

“Can we see him?”

The nurse nodded and led you to his room.

_____

6 hours later

The first thing that moved were his fingers, they looked as if he were playing an invisible piano on the white sheets.

Finn opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings. White walls, his feet, you passed out in a chair.

He smirked,

“Oi.” He croaked.

He watched your eyelids snap open confusingly, then they made contact with his.

“Tired?” he jested.

You glared,

“You’re a bastard Finn Shelby. A right bastard.”

You stood up and looked down over his bed, you flicked his nose.

“Ow wha’ the fuck!?”

“That,” you slipped, “Was for draggin me into this mess and then making me save your ass.”

“yeah thats fair.”

You sat down again, but pushed the chair closer. You took one of his hands.

“I don’t want to be covered in your blood again.”

He grunted, 

“Can’t guarantee anything.”

You smiled at his humor, but you felt sad inside.

“I can’t lose any more of you.”

He understood what you meant. John and you had been close, you were like an extra sibling. 

Finn turned his hand so that your’s fell in place. He squeezed.

“I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

You smiled again and lay you head down on the bed beside his shoulder.

It was here that Finn felt good, where he could embrace the quiet sensuality of plain love. Not forced, or made to behave differently, he could be himself.

He leaned his head atop yours.

________

1 Day later

“and in conclusion, you are never, to ever, do anything like that ever again. Not, that there will be an occasion to do so.” 

Tommy finished his drastically long scolding of Finn.

“And (y/n), i want to be mad, but essentially the same goes to you as well. But you were doing your job, and i’m glad Finn wasn’t alone. At least there was one working brain in the plan.”

You blinked,

“I still have a job?”

Tommy chuckled,

“What, you thought this would change that? I did tell you there would be excitement didn’t i?”

“Yeah, my body feels real excited.” Finn groaned from the bed, rubbing the bandages that were wrapped around his midsection.

“Yeah but thats what you get.” You said.

He frowned.

_____

_____

_____

_____

1930

The car rumbled beneath you, and with the windows down, your hair cooled in the breeze.

You looked into your mirrors, he was gaining on you.

“Fool.” You muttered.

Your foot lowered further on the gas.

The finish line was in sight,

5

4

3

2

1

Whoosh. 

Again, not a surprising victory. 

You eased off the gas and began the process of stopping the car.

The screech of brakes continued until you exited the car.

You threw up your hands,

“Really?! I thought i taught you better than that Shelby!”

Finn flipped you off and hopped out of his car.

“Well i’m not insane, like someone know.”

you punched his arm.

“Bastard.”

“Lunatic.”

You looked up at him and grinned.

He did the same.

He leaned down and kissed you, you returning it naturally.

You smiled into the kiss, before reaching up and grabbing his hat.

You broke off and frisbeed his hat into the grass.

“Race you!” You squealed as you ran to your car.

Finn stood in confusion at how quick that progressed.

You got back in the car, and started the engine.

_____________

The End