#and past three nights ive been drinking just to get my head to shut up

[megtrns]

Maybe mtmte Megatron juggling with his feelings for a human liaison? going from indifference, maybe even an ounce of repulsion to a strong attraction, lust, not really knowing where to place all of that baggage he's got.

hi anon, thank you for requesting ! i might have gotten carried away but i hope this lives up to your expectations <3 feel free to request another if it doesn't ( i don't usually turn down the chance to write about my favourite character hihi)

time will tell. megatron / gn!reader. sfw! one-shot angst. pinning. the usual dilemma.

i. You and Megatron have crossed paths three different times. The first time you could barely see through the smoke crowding from all sides, caught in the crossfire between two giant robots desecrating your city. With one foot trapped under the rubble, all you could do was helplessly stare, unable to comprehend the number of fallen buildings swallowed by the fire. There was so much noise in the distance — the blaring of car alarms, the crying of children, the screaming and shouting, all causing the ringing in your ears to grow louder. But the world fell silent the moment he emerged from the chaos, gunmetal grey and towering above you.

You wondered if it was the shock or the fear that caused you to hallucinate his eyes: red like rubies under the midday sun, narrowing at you in disgust. Surviving that was difficult, living past it was even harder. But the world continued to spin and forgetting became easier. You would have never guessed that your first, brief encounter with him was just the catalyst; the first domino to fall, leading you straight back to him.

ii. The second time you met was aboard the Lost Light. Once you've reported to the bridge to formally introduce yourself to your captain, Rodimus was somewhat apologetic (if not embarrassed) that his second in command wasn't there to greet their first and newest human liaison. Wanting to make a good first impression, you had volunteered to look for him yourself. Having been spontaneously relieved from your previous duty above the Vitalis, you had wondered what your new co-captain would look like. With Thunderclash's deteriorating health, you didn't want to burden anyone with your departure, so you quietly left for the nearby space station to await your transfer. For months you were in the dark, with little if not outdated information on your new crew.

So when you stood outside the habsuite of your co-captain to see him, the world suddenly stopped spinning — time melting to bring back the smell of smoke and ash.

Yet you stood your ground, hands curled into a fist inside your coat, wondering if your face had given your fear away. But Megatron made no move to spare you a glance — acting as if he hadn't seen you — before retreating to his room and away from the light. The second the doors clicked shut, your knees instantly gave in.

And as you were sliding down the wall with your head between your hands to steady your breathing, you didn't notice that he saw everything through the little window of his doorway.

iii. While most of the crew took an immediate liking to you, the same couldn't be said about everyone. It was months after your arrival and Megatron has yet to speak to you. Anything of importance between the two of you was relayed back and forth through Rodimus, and you were getting tired of his complaints on being treated as a makeshift fax machine. So you had cornered the former warlord one night, having waited in front of his room for hours. With a steady gaze, you had mustered all the courage to ask him if he hated you.

" Hate you?" Megatron frowned, the mask of indifference cracking for the first time to give way to annoyance, " I don't even think about you."

Gaping with your mouth open like a fish, you marched down to Swerves for the strongest human drink the minibot had to offer, using the liquor to wash down the shame.

iv. The next few months were grueling, not only for the both of you but for the entire crew. Whenever you and Megatron were in the same room, an argument was bound to explode. Brainstorm once said you two were more volatile than any chemical he's ever tampered with, and that was saying something. Back and forth, you'd both fight for the last word, sometimes over things that didn't even make sense, as if you were both just trying to test each other's limits. You reasoned to your fellow crew members that you and Megatron are just like two magnets that repel.

But what is hate if not attraction ? Every time you cross the room to pick a fight with him, that was a pull. And every time he reciprocates, that was another pull. And when Rung told you that maybe this was the closest thing to your company that Megatron would ever let himself indulge in, everything started to click into place.

This had nothing to do with pride — it was remorse.

With the new knowledge in mind, you interrupted him mid-fight to yell that you forgive him. That even if you weren't sure if you've meant it, you forgive him.

Taken aback, the expression on Megatron's face was unreadable.

" I'm done pretending that I hate you. I don't. Not anymore."

Just like that, the ice began to thaw. Sure, there were a few awkward moments where Megatron was unsure of how to act towards a person whose race he wanted to destroy only less than a decade ago. But in the privacy of your office and away from prying optics, the past became a distant, faraway thing. Instead of looking down at you from his height, he'd be the one to displace his mass to enter your space; a silent permission to start over.

An invitation you gladly accepted.

v. Your conversations were usually philosophical, if not sometimes intimate: a hesitant yet growing disclosure of vulnerability from both sides, making the effort even sweeter.

And slowly but surely, you start to feel it all over again: the rush, the headiness, the nerves. But this time it wasn't fear, or loathing, or anger. It was something new and secret, waiting to come alive whenever he sits close to you. And you sense it from him too : all the not-so-subtle staring, the brushing of his servos against your fingers, the faint ripple of his emf field ghosting against your skin with want.

Here, with nothing but the stars outside, still and unblinking, you met Megatron for the third time : yearning and unapolagetic, already pulling you on his lap to gently catch your mouth between his dermas.

He tells you he's tired of running, of repenting and regretting when he can choose to give you what you deserve; weak in denying you. He lays you on the couch to delicately raise the bare, curve of your leg, stroking the scar that marked your skin.

You gave him a gallic shrug. " That was a long time ago."

" And what of now?" He asked, kissing the scar softly. " Now is another time. Far away from yesterday and the days before." vi. You and Megatron have crossed paths three different times, once when he believed he could conquer time and later, when he was trapped as its prisoner. Now, you meet him for a third time — when you're kissing him free with the promise to begin again.

[pastelgalleria]

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[dadbodosamu]

only you || part i

Stepdad Osamu x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: pseudocest, stepcest, cheating, wombfucking, semi-public sex (in an alley), extremely light dumbification, breeding kink, spit kink, Osamu has a dick piercing

4.5k words. thanks to @waka-chan-out and @vanilleswtmacaron for beta reading this and reassuring me that it doesn’t suck lol

ao3 link here (aha its not too long mobile just sucks!!) part i || part ii || part iii || part iv || part v || part vi || extras || only you, too

You sighed as you tapped your fingers on the table. Your mom had decided it was high time for you to meet your new stepdad, who you had put off meeting for the past three years. You smiled as you remembered the perfectly timed appendicitis that had you missing the wedding. You couldn’t have planned it better if you tried. 

Your dad had only passed away a little under four years ago, leaving your mom to remarry only six months later. You’d opted to live with your grandmother, citing her health as a reason to live with her on her farm. Your plan had worked perfectly, and you hadn’t had to meet Osamu for three years.

Now though, with your grandmother in the hospital, your mom thought it was a great time for you to come and visit and finally meet the great Osamu.

“Osamu should be home any minute,” your mom said, smiling happily over the takoyaki she was making. “He’s bringing your favourite!”

“Yay,” you said, unenthusiastically. You glanced at the time on your phone. You were almost wishing Osamu to be here so you wouldn’t have to spend another awkward second with your mom.

You and your mom hadn’t been close to begin with, you always being a daddy’s girl from the day you were born. And after remarrying so quickly, you’d drifted even further apart. At this point, you had nothing to speak to her about.

“I’m home!” Someone called. The door slid shut behind them and you glanced around, waiting for them to appear in the kitchen. “And I brought umeboshi onigiri!”

The man who stepped into the kitchen nearly knocked you out of your seat.

He was handsome. Devastatingly, heartachingly, handsome. He was tall, with brown hair and deep grey eyes, and thick. His t-shirt was pulled taut over his broad shoulders and his thighs in his shorts were almost indecent. 

The next thing you noticed was that he was young. Probably only a handful of years older than your twenty-one, definitely closer to your age than your mom’s.

God, why had you put this meeting off? Had you known your mom was married to an actual god, you would’ve actually visited.

“Hey, honey,” your mom greeted, smiling at him. Your stomach twisted as she leaned over, puckering her lips for a kiss. Osamu pecked her lips quickly and turned towards you.

“Hey, I’m Osamu,” he greeted, smiling widely at you. Your heart skipped. “I heard ya like umeboshi onigiri so I made you some.”

“Th-thank you,” you stuttered. “I’m Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to finally meet ya,” Osamu said. “Was starting to think ya were avoiding me!”

“More like she was avoiding me,” your mom said. “She was always a daddy’s girl.”

“Oh?” Osamu asked, looking at you. Your cheeks burned. “Well, I’d never try to replace yer dad, but if ya ever need some daddy/daughter time, I’m here for ya.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something stupid. 

“I really appreciate that,” you said. 

“Oh, I’m so glad you two are getting along already!” Your mom squealed. She carried the takoyaki to the table and smiled as she sat down. “Dinner is finally ready.”

“Itadakimasu,” you mumbled, already loading your plate up with onigiri and the other food on the table. 

“So, how is university going?” Your mom asked. 

You shrugged as you slurped up some noodles. “It’s going. Made nationals.”

“Oh? What sport do ya play? I don’t think yer mom ever mentioned,” Osamu said. You rolled your eyes. Of course she hadn’t mentioned volleyball, it wasn’t like you’d been playing since elementary school or anything.

“Volleyball,” you said. “I was on the Niiyama girls team in high school. Hoping to go pro after uni.”

“Volleyball? I played in high school! My brother, Atsumu, and I were on the Inarizaki team,” Osamu exclaimed. 

“Not Miya Atsumu, right?” You asked, excitedly. “MSBY Black Jackals Miya Atsumu?”

“The very one!” Osamu said.

“No way! They’re my favourite team! I have a signed poster in my room, it’s my prized possession!” I exclaimed. “I heard a few members are going to the Olympics this year.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me she plays volleyball,” Osamu said, glancing at your mom.

“Must’ve slipped my mind,” your mom said.

“We should go to a game sometimes,” Osamu said. “I can get an extra ticket to the MSBY, Adlers game later this week.”

“That sounds great!” You said, smiling widely.

Your mom ate in relative silence as you and Osamu traded stories about your volleyball times, only ever inputting something every once in a while. After dinner, Osamu found a Sendai Frogs match. 

“I’m currently in the nation’s top 3 setters,” you said, proudly. “I’m number two behind Takao Michi.”

“I’ll have to start coming to yer games,” Osamu said. “See ya in action.”

“I’d like that,” you said, honestly. 

“Why don’t ya come to work with me tomorrow? I can introduce ya to a few of my friends that are in town,” Osamu said.

“Absolutely,” you said.

“Don’t get me wrong though, I’m putting ya to work while yer there,” Osamu said. Your mom yawned.

“You all have me worn out from all this volleyball talk,” she said. “I’m going to bed.”

“Night, mom,” you said as she stood up.

“Osamu?” She questioned, turning back to glance at him.

“Oh, we’re going to stay up a bit longer,” he said. “The Schweinden Adlers have a match after the Frogs.”

“Oh, okay,” she said. You could hear the disappointment in her voice.

Osamu waited until you heard the bedroom door click shut before speaking.

“I know this is probably too much information about yer mom but she must think I’m some sex robot,” Osamu said, huffing. “A guy can only do so much.”

You crinkled your nose. “Gross, I did not need to know that.” You tried to hold steady but laughter bubbled up through your lips. Osamu laughed loudly and you joined him, holding your gut with how hard you were laughing.

“We need- we need to be- to be quiet!” Osamu laughed. “She’s trying to- tryin’ to sleep.”

You giggled a few more times before quieting down.

“So, how old are ya?” Osamu asked, standing up. “Old enough for a beer?”

“I’m twenty-one,” you said. “Old enough for a beer.”

“We got wine coolers if ya would rather have that,” Osamu said, stepping into the kitchen.

“Please,” you said. “So, how old are you? Can’t help but notice you’re quite a bit younger than my mom.”

“Twenty-five, twenty-six in October,” he said, grabbing a beer and a wine cooler out of the fridge.

“Follow up question,” you said, “and I don’t mean any offence, I’m sure she’s great in some ways, but why my mom? I mean, surely there’s no shortage of people your age that are wanting you.”

Osamu took a long drink from his beer before answering. “Ask me after I’ve drunk a few of these.”

You pursed your lips and took a sip of your fruity drink. “Fine,” you said. “Then let’s play a game. Every time the Adlers score, I’ll ask you a question and every time the Tachibana Red Falcons score, you get to ask me a question.”

“Deal,” Osamu said.

“Oh! Score!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up. “Another untouchable spike by Ushiwaka!”

“Shush, yer mom,” Osamu giggled. You rolled your eyes and chugged the rest of your fifth drink.

“You shush, it’s my turn,” you said, plopping down on the couch next to Osamu. “So, now tell me,” You hiccupped. “My bad. Now tell me, why my mom? Why not someone your age? Because I’m gonna- I’m gonna be honest, you’re hot and my mom is, like, she’s not, like, ugly, but, like, she’s, like, fifty.”

“I could just like cougars,” Osamu teased. You rolled your eyes and popped the top on your next drink.

“Tell the, the truth, ‘Samu,” you slurred. 

“Fine, but this stays between us, as best friends,” he said.

“Bee ef efs,” you slurred.

“Yer mom helped fund my restaurant,” he said. “So, I felt bad. She’s so nice and sweet. So, I married her.”

“Now you have a step kid that’s only four years younger than you,” you said. 

“Yeah, she didn’t really mention ya before we got married,” he said. Osamu leaned in close to you. “She didn’t mention how attractive ya were either.”

Your cheeks flushed. You turned your head away from him, looking back to the television.

“Oh, Falcons scored,” you said. “It’s your turn to ask a question.”

Osamu took a sip of his beer before speaking. “Why have ya been avoidin’ yer mom?”

You took a large gulp from your drink. “I haven’t been avoiding her,” you lied. Osamu blinked at you slowly. 

“Fine, fine!” You exclaimed. You sipped from your drink, then responded, “Mainly because she remarried so quickly after Dad died. And to someone only four years older than me. But we’ve never been close. She and I never really saw eye-to-eye. She was the love of my dad’s life and he was just another guy to her. Not to mention, she’s never been remotely interested in anything in my life, she’s always been so self-absorbed. I doubt she even knew I still played volleyball, that’s probably why she didn’t mention it to you.”

Osamu stayed silent as you chugged the remainder of your drink.

“I know it’s probably not comforting, but I’ll be there for ya if ya need me,” Osamu said. “Even if yer mom and I separate, I consider ya a friend now.”

Osamu’s words were oddly comforting. You nodded as you reached for yet another wine cooler. 

“I’m oddly comforted,” you said, popping the top easily. You fiddled with the top, thinking of what to say next.

“Another Falcons score,” Osamu said. “My turn again.”

“Question away,” you said. 

“Can’t think of any,” Osamu said. He yawned.

“Tired already?” You teased, elbowing him in the side. “Old man.”

“I’m twenty-five,” he argued, yawning again. “But I am going to bed. Let’s call a rain check on our game.”

“Deal,” you said, raising your bottle to him. “Might as well go to bed, too. Night, Samu.”

“Night, Y/n,” Osamu said, standing up. He stretched out before padding down the hallway to your mom’s room. 

You sighed loudly once you heard the door click shut. You gulped down your drink. “Good going, Y/n. You finally found a guy you like and he’s your stepdad.”

You finished your drink before gathering all the empty bottles and cans, throwing them in the recycling before walking towards your room. You collapsed onto your unmade bed and passed out before your head hit the pillow. 

“Two salted salmon onigiri,” you said, placing the plate in front of the professional volleyball player. “And onion soup.”

“Go ahead and join them,” Osamu said, placing a few plates on the same table. “I’ll bring you out some umeboshi onigiri.”

“Thanks,” you said. You could barely contain your excitement as you took a seat between Miya Atsumu and Bokuto Koutarou.

“So, yer a setter?” Atsumu asked, taking a bite of his onigiri. You nodded.

“Number two in the nation,” you said.

“She’s better than you were, Tsumu!” Hinata Shoyo exclaimed. You smiled widely.

“In high school, I was ranked number one under nineteen in my second and third years,” you said. “I even got to play in the junior Olympics in high school. We only won silver, though.”

“We’re playing the Olympics this year,” Bokuto said. “And a few of our friends from the Adlers.”

“Kageyama Tobio, Ushijima Wakatoshi, and Hoshimiumi Kourai?” You asked. “I’ve been keeping up with everyone considered for the Olympics.”

“Maybe you’ll be playing in the next Olympics,” Sakusa said. 

“That’s the goal,” you said, smiling. Osamu set a plate in front of you. “Thank you.”

“So our little star setter is here for the next week,” Osamu said, placing a strong hand on your shoulder. “We should play a game while she’s down, see how good she really is.”

“I’m game!” Bokuto exclaimed. “I wanna see those number two in the nation skills!”

“Probably nowhere near the level of you guys,” you said.

“We do have a few years on ya,” Atsumu said, ruffling your hair. 

“Literally only four,” you said, fixing your hair.

“Leave the kid alone, Tsumu,” Osamu said.

“Hey, she’s my niece now, I reserve the right to tease her,” Atsumu said.

“Uncle Tsumu,” you teased.

“That’s right, Uncle Tsumu and Daddy Samu,” Atsumu said. 

Your stomach flipped as the MSBY boys laughed. Osamu looked down at you and winked. You clenched your thighs together.

“All right, quiet down before ya disturb my payin’ guests,” Osamu said. 

“Lunch on Samu-kun!” Hinata exclaimed. Osamu rolled his eyes.

“Once yer finished, I want ya back in the kitchen,” Osamu said. He rubbed your back before walking into the kitchen.

“So, you plan on going professional after university?” Bokuto asked.

You nodded as the table fell into casual conversation.

“I already have offers to go play in France and Brazil,” you said, taking a bite of your onigiri.

“Brazil is fantastic,” Hinata said. “I played there for a while.”

“You liked it? I’ve been debating back and forth between the two. Can’t decide which one I would enjoy more,” you said. “Does Brazil have good food?”

“The best! Unless you’re looking for Japanese food,” Hinata said. “There’s no good Japanese food.”

“Noted,” you said, smiling.

“What are you studying in school?” Sakusa asked.

“Education,” you said. “If volleyball doesn’t work out I want to teach Japanese in another country.”

“Smart,” Sakusa said.

“So, any boyfriends? Girlfriends? Significant others?” Atsumu asked.

You laughed. “With what time?”

“Oh, come on, there has to be someone!” Atsumu exclaimed. “We all find time for a lil’ somethin’.”

“There was a girl,” you admitted. “On my volleyball team, but we both cared more about volleyball than each other.”

“Any crushes?” Bokuto asked. He winked at you and flexed his arms playfully.

You pursed your lips. “And why should I tell you if I do?”

“Because we’re all best friends now!” Hinata shouted, slamming his hand on the table. He ignored the looks from the other customers.

“There is this guy I have my eye on,” you said. “He’s tall, nice, and beefy as hell.”

“Ooo, tell us more,” Bokuto said.

You shook your head. “No use talking about him. He’s strictly off limits.”

“He’s gay,” Atsumu said, nodding his head.

“What?! No!” You laughed. “He’s taken.”

“Ah, university relationships aren’t always serious, you can probably still get him,” Hinata said, waving away your worries.

“He’s married,” you said. The boys all hissed in sympathy.

“Ask for a threesome,” Atsumu said. Your face must’ve shown your disgust because the boys all laughed at you.

“She must be ugly,” Bokuto said.

“We don’t get along the best,” you said. You sighed as you looked down at your empty plate.

“Better get to work before Daddy Samu grounds you,” Atsumu teased.

You rolled your eyes, but stood up. 

“It was nice meeting you guys,” you said. “I hope we can get a game together before I leave.”

“Oh, we definitely will,” Bokuto said.

“I’ll hold you to it,” you said, smiling. You waved bye to them as you entered the kitchen.

Osamu was leaned over the stove top, stirring a large pot of soup.

“Have fun?” He asked, wiping sweat off his brow with the towel thrown over his shoulder. You nodded.

“They were all super nice,” you said. “I feel like we’re actually friends now.”

“That’s good,” Osamu said, smiling at you. “Ya wanna start putting together a couple of onigiri?”

“No problem,” you said, washing your hands quickly. 

“We need five salted salmon and three umeboshi,” Osamu said. “And then out to table three.”

“Got it,” you said.

The rest of the day went by relatively quickly and smoothly. It was finally around midnight when the last customers finally left and you and Osamu could close down shop.

“Come into my office and I’ll show you how to count all the money,” Osamu said, locking the main doors. 

You followed him into his small office. 

“Okay, whenever you count the money, make sure the door is closed and locked behind you,” Osamu said, closing the door behind him. 

You held your breath as he slowly slid past you, your chest brushing against his.

“A lil’ cramped in here, sorry,” Osamu said, sitting at his desk.

“It’s fine,” you mumbled, sitting in the folding chair next to him.

“So, d’ya have a good day?” Osamu asked, casually thumbing through bills.

You nodded. “It was good! It was nice meeting your friends. I really liked them.”

“Ooo, any of ‘em catch yer eye?” Osamu teased. You rolled your eyes.

“I already have my eye on someone,” you said.

“Oh?” Osamu questioned.

“He’s taken though,” you said. “Strictly off limits.”

“Ask for a threesome,” he said.

You laughed loudly. “Funny, Atsumu said the same thing. But no, I don’t get along with his wife.”

“Wife? That sucks,” he said, placing a wad of cash in an envelope. 

“Yeah,” you agreed.

“Well, I, for one, think yer a catch,” Osamu said, sealing the envelope. “Anyone would be lucky to have ya.”

“Thanks, Samu,” you said, face burning. He patted your thigh.

“Anytime, princess,” Osamu said. You clenched your thighs together at the new nickname. “Well, we’re all done here, let’s get home.”

You trailed after him like a lost puppy as he double checked all the appliances were off and flipping the lights off.

You shivered as you stepped into the cool, night air. 

“Cold?” Osamu asked, already peeling off his Onigiri Miya hoodie.

“Yeah, a little,” you said, gladly taking the hoodie from him. You tugged it over your head and breathed deeply. “Smells good. Half expected it to smell like onigiri.”

“It will soon,” Osamu said, smiling. “It’s new. Just got the shipment in last week.”

“I’ll have to get one,” you said.

“Keep it,” Osamu said. “Ya look cute in it.”

You blushed deeply. You bumped his shoulder with yours gently.

“It’s like, way too big,” you said.

Osamu shrugged. “Oversized is in. Besides, I thought girls loved to steal guys’ hoodies.”

“Yeah, guys they like,” you said.

“Well, ya took it from me,” Osamu said, bumping your shoulder. “Ya must like me a little.”

“Whatever,” you said, cheeks burning. Osamu laughed.

“Someone has a crush!” He sang.

“Shut up! I don’t have a crush on you,” you said.

“Ya did call me hot last night,” he said.

“I was drunk, so it doesn’t count,” you said. He rolled his eyes obnoxiously.

“Ya have a crush on me, just admit it,” Osamu said. “I won’t tell anyone, pinky promise.”

“You’re my stepdad, in case you forgot,” you replied. “That’s basically incest, isn’t it?”

“So ya admit it?” Osamu asked. You shoved him playfully.

“I actually have a crush on Atsumu,” you said. “He’s the hotter twin.”

Osamu pushed you into an alley and caged you against the cool bricks of a building.

“Oh?” Osamu said. “Ya think Atsumu is the hotter twin?”

You nodded slowly as Osamu looked down at you.

“It’s the hair,” you squeaked.

“Oh, yeah, forgot that girls love a guy who doesn’t know what toner is,” Osamu said, leaning down. “I think yer lying.” His nose was nearly touching yours.

“I’m not,” you mumbled. Osamu’s hands moved from either side of your head to your hips. 

“You are,” Osamu whispered, lips brushing against your ear. You shivered.

“And if I am?” You asked.

“I don’t like bad girls,” Osamu said. “Lying is grounds for punishment.”

“Punishment?” You asked.

“I’d bend ya over my knee and spank ya until ya begged for mercy,” he said. You sucked in a sharp breath.

“It’s a good thing I’m not lying, then,” you said. By now, Osamu’s lips were nearly against yours, so close you could feel the heat from his breath on your lips.

Osamu ground his hips against yours, firmly pressing his hard on against you.

You bit your lip and glanced down. His cock was straining against his jeans, eager to be released.

“Tell the truth and I’ll think about not putting ya over my knee,” Osamu said, lips softly brushing against yours. 

“You’re the hotter twin,” you said, putting your arms around his neck. “And I have a crush on you. And I want you to fuck me in this alley.”

“There we go,” Osamu said. He finally kissed you roughly, like he wanted to devour you. You moaned as he ground against you.

“Samu,” you moaned, pulling back. He wasted no time, kissing down your neck, sucking and biting at your sensitive skin.

“Been thinkin’ about pushin’ this lil’ skirt up all day,” he growled, pushing your skirt up around your waist, revealing the pretty pink lace of your underwear. 

“Please,” you gasped as he shoved his jeans and underwear down, releasing his cock. You nearly moaned at the sight of it, long and thick and leaking precum from the swollen tip.

“Gonna wreck this cute little cunt,” Osamu said, tugging your underwear down and letting them fall to the ground. He dragged the tip of his cock through your wet folds, teasing your clit and hole.

“Is- Is that a piercing I feel?” You asked, feeling cool metal against your warm folds.

“I’ll give ya a closer look later,” he said, teasingly pushing the tip in and out of your hole. “Wanna be in ya now.”

“Fill me up, please, Samu,” you begged, digging your fingernails into his skin. Your walls fluttered around nothing as he lifted you up. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Good girl,” he muttered, lining his cock up with your hole. “Beg for my cock, princess.”

“Please, please, please!” You cried. “Want your cock in me, need it! Please, Samu, want you to fill me up.”

“Of course, baby girl, anything for my princess,” Osamu said, kissing you softly. He rutted his hips up into you, stretching you out suddenly.

You moaned loudly and let your head fall on Osamu's broad shoulder. 

“So big,” you moaned. “Hurts.”

“Shh, shh, yer takin’ me so well, baby,” Osamu said. “Squeezin’ me so tight, wanna bust just bein’ in ya.”

You whimpered as Osamu slowly pulled out. He pushed back in slowly, giving you time to adjust to each inch. Your walls clenched around him, sucking him in deeper and deeper until the swollen tip was kissing your cervix.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Gonna ruin ya.” Osamu pulled out until just the tip was in and slammed back into you.

You gasped loudly as his cock breached your cervix, going deeper than anything had ever been in you and stretching you more than anything ever had.

“Samu!” You cried, throwing your head back and digging your nails into the nape of his neck. “Fuck, harder, please!”

“Feel that, baby? I’m so deep in ya,” Osamu said. “Fuckin’ past your cervix, yeah?”

You nodded as you bit back your moans as Osamu pounded into you. You buried your head into his shoulder and bit down, quieting your too loud moans.

“Next time, ‘m gonna have ya somewhere ya can be loud as ya want,” Osamu grunted. “Wanna hear yer pretty, little moans.”

You let out a soft moan in his ear and he snapped his hips up harder into you.

“Ah, Samu,” you moaned, struggling to keep your volume down. “Gonna cum.”

He pinched your clit as you gushed around his cock. You looked down to where your bodies met and watched as your juices leaked down his cock, dripping on his heavy balls. You moaned.

“Gonna fill ya up, baby,” he growled lowly. “Come ‘ere.”

He pulled your head up by your hair and squeezed your cheeks until your mouth fell open, tongue lolling out. He gathered spit in his mouth and spat it on your waiting tongue.

“Don’t swallow,” he said. He kissed you deeply, licking into your mouth and sucking your tongue. He kissed you messily, spit running down your chin and a thin strand of it connecting you two when he finally pulled back. 

“Such a messy, little slut,” he said, slamming his hips against yours. “Taking my spit so well. Gonna take my cum like that?”

You nodded, unable to speak beyond gasps and moans as his cock abused your cunt.

“Can’t speak? Fucked ya dumb, huh?” Osamu asked. He chuckled. “My cock makin’ ya dumb, little baby?”

You whined. God, you wanted him to fill you up so bad. 

“Cum. Inside.” You gasped out.

“Oh? Want me t’ breed ya? Make ya big and swollen with my baby?” Osamu asked, hips moving faster.

You nodded furiously. He rubbed your clit in tight, fast circles.

“Cream ‘round my cock one more time, baby,” he grunted. 

“Samu!” You exclaimed. Your stomach tightened as your walls fluttered like crazy.

“Yeah? Gonna cum again for me?” Osamu asked. You let out a high pitched moan as the coil in your stomach snapped.

“Fill me up, please!” You moaned as you came. Osamu’s hips stuttered as he pushed into you deeply before painting your womb white. You cried out, letting your head rest against his shoulder as he moaned.

“Fuck, yer still so tight around my cock,” he hissed. Your walls fluttered. “Perfect little cunt, princess. Milkin’ me dry like a good girl.”

You whimpered as he slowly pulled out. Your legs went limp, falling from his waist.

“Can’t stand,” you mumbled, legs shaking with the weak attempt you made. Osamu held you up as he pulled his pants back up and pulled your panties back on.

“Come here, baby,” he said, swooping you up bridal style. “Let’s go home, princess.”

You nodded lamely as he carried you. You must’ve fallen asleep, because the next thing you heard was Osamu talking to your mother.

“She was practically dead on her feet,” Osamu said. “Fell asleep while I was counting the money.”

“You could’ve called, I would’ve brought the car,” your mom said. You felt Osamu shrug.

“It was no problem,” Osamu said. 

“Well, go lay her down in her bed,” your mom said. “Then maybe she’ll be out for the rest of the night.” You frowned at her suggestive tone and cuddled deeper into Osamu’s chest.

“I’ll go lay her down,” Osamu said. He carried you down the hall and entered your bedroom carefully.

As he laid you down, you grabbed his arm and whined, “Don’t go.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered. “I gotta go to my own bed.”

“Don’t- Don’t fuck her,” you mumbled. “Please.”

“Don’t worry, princess,” he said, softly brushing your hair out of your face. “It’s only you from now on.” You nodded. Osamu kissed your forehead before leaving you alone.

You blinked once, twice, before you were asleep.

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey business - john shelby x reader (part 6 of ?)

gif by my queen @michaelgreys, i'm basically her fanblog now but im not mad about it :) i mean just look at him!!1! i almost fainted

a/n: first of all, if you stuck around to this point, tysm for reading!!! this has been one of the most amazing fics ive ever been a part of and it's all thanks to the gorgeous @stxdyblr-2k, who generously took control of the next few parts. her brain is beautiful and we all owe her flowers or something. when i read what she sent me i couldn't bring myself to change much except for some small edits, so pls give her lots of love if you like it!!!! i'm still working on requests as well :)

love, abi xxx

read part one two three four five | my masterlist

tagging: @datewithgianni, @mayaslifeinabox, @deepdonutkid, @springsoulofengland, @lilymurphy03

prompt: nothing this good can last forever. john doesn't know how to feel, and neither do you.

warnings: nsfw! a teensy bit of smut, angsty as fuck prepare yourselves accordingly, a lil fluff if u squint, yeah this fucked me up

Obviously, it wasn't the last time.

Over the coming months you had many last times; his mouth pressed against your neck said as much. As his responsibility at work increased, you'd find yourself heading to his office after your lectures and night classes more often, perched on his lap, smoking, while he finished up his numbers under your critical gaze.

Thomas was more than aware; his snarky comments made it obvious he had his ways of monitoring your actions. You'd seen the dark car lurking outside your rallies and lectures, and no matter how you'd try to throw him off, not even telling Ada where you were going and even, in a moment of desperation, through your neighbours back window, somehow, his silent shadow was still looming. He was practically begging you to make a mistake, to give everyone an easy out. You just couldn't give him the satisfaction. You knew Tommy saw the world as a chess board, always several moves ahead of his opponent. Even when you played him in chess club all those years ago, you could outflank him if you thought on your feet and kept him thinking he was winning until you obliterated him in the end game. It was brutal, sure. But as he told you, there were bigger games at play. You had your own. Thomas could read your mail, intercept your phone calls and have you followed, but he couldn't hear what you said out of earshot. Your lot could smell an interceptor in your ranks, so spying at that close of a proximity was out of the question.

That's why he'd decided to let you have John. You knew his silent approval and his constant management of the narrative meant he saw a tactical gain. There was only so much information he could get from Ada, but John? He just had to agitate him in the right way and all your secrets would come tumbling out. It was difficult hiding your world from John; of what he knew of, he was supportive, quizzing you over current affairs and political discourse, listening intently. Yet, you had to watch your mouth. You had to keep a barrier up and you knew John sensed the distance. Fundamentally, there was nothing either of you could do.

So here you were, in a comfortable limbo. Your days were filled with work, evenings were for lectures and reading groups at the city's university, Ada and you often stopped for a drink or three; you'd go by your flat to freshen up, and then to John's office. Sometimes, you wouldn't visit for a week or so when the guilt sent you over the edge, it was draining to be living so many lives and knowing you were betraying the person you loved most on earth. Ada was oblivious, taking you on her nightly adventures filled with men, dancing and waiting while she was busy kissing in dark corners. Sometimes a young blinder would ask if you wanted to be walked home. The first occurrence you thought was sweet, but as the nights it occurred coincided with nights John seemed extra pent up, you'd decided to ask. The boy, who couldn't be older than twelve but who you knew was trained in using firearms and had a revolver pinned to his hip and a razor in his cap, looked confused.

"Mate, it's not a tough question. Why do you come and ask?"

"There's a phone call." He shrugs, "Isaiah or Michael tells us to go and get you."

Isaiah and Michael were somewhat aware? Fucking hell. Your fling was basically a military campaign at this point, so many of your friends were complicit. The little lads who ran as messengers around Birmingham were complicit. You had to just end it.

But when you sat on his thigh, his chin hooked over your shoulder, it felt so worth it. He never turned you away when you came crawling back. He never mentioned it until after you were finished, hooked under his arm.

"Fucking missed you, gorgeous."

Sometimes he'd remind you not to be a stranger with a wink, but you could tell it was tearing him apart too. He never once came to you. That's how he could justify it in his mind; obviously, the bare minimum was not having sex with his sister's best friend, but in failing that, waiting for you to initiate it was somewhat better. He barely talked to Ada now, citing work as an excuse, but truly the guilt sickened him. He couldn't believe he was prepared to continuously hurt his little sister and betray her. But every time you turned up at his door, he couldn't find it in himself to turn you away. In his mind, every single time you came to visit him was the last time he'd let it happen, yet he was always waiting for you to come back, his blind closed to signal he was prepared. He never would call, it had to be your choice.

You'd been off and on for over five months now. It was so difficult to hide in plain sight, but you just couldn't stop yourself. Neither of you purposefully meant for this to be happen but fuck, was it fun.

For your birthday he'd gifted you a fur coat from the same shop his sister, aunt and the fashionable crowd of Birmingham had purchased theirs. He joked that you looked like a "proper razor chaser", kissing you when you pouted at his teasing, begging you to wear only the coat when you fucked him next. It was a practice for blinders to buy a coat for their wives and girlfriends as a status symbol. You were neither, but John claimed that being his "favourite lass" also counted.

John was a laugh, but you knew at any time he could close his door to you. Until he decided he couldn't be bothered with you, you weren't going to get caught. You just had to be careful until he got bored.

***

You did end up putting a foot wrong. It was a Thursday night; you were sitting on the edge of John's desk while he was ridding you of your blouse. It was past midnight, Birmingham was asleep. You almost didn't bother coming out tonight, but you knew John had lost a deal and you wanted to be there for him. Your skirt and stockings were strewn across the desk with his shirt, vest and waistcoat, muddled into the files and papers which were once neatly stacked.

His fingers were pumping in and out of you, his mouth lapping at your breast, your head tipped back in euphoria, groaning. The stress made him more affectionate and tender with you, and it was nights like these that made you wonder. Wonder if this could ever be something more, something real.

John's body suddenly pulled away from yours, quickly turning the light off.

"John, what-" You were cut off by John’s hand over your mouth, muffling your words.

"Shut up and get behind the desk." He hissed. "Someone's coming upstairs."

You quickly grabbed your clothes from the shiny oak surface and crouched, hiding yourself from view, quickly making yourself decent. You weren't going to get shot through the head with your tits out. You listened to the stairs creek, and it sounded like a group. You two were easily outnumbered. They were talking, but the thick panels of wood muffled their voices.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, the cracks in the door giving the room a dulled glow, you could make out the figure of John. He was free of his shirt, toned body on display, standing with his back flat to the wall, revolver produced from a discreet notch in the door frame, gaze fixed on where they'd enter. He was tense, ready. The door was unlocked from the outside, the door handle twisting.

John's lip shifted in confusion yet still he kept his trigger finger ready, not a single shake from your general.

The light flicked on and a shriek rang out. It was blinding, and you stood up slightly dazed. Finn was in the doorway, John next to him clutching his chest, panting and lowering the gun.

"Jesus Christ, Finn, can't you knock like a normal person? Scared the shit out of us." John bellowed, shaking as the adrenaline coursed through his body, resting his hands on the edge of the desk as he regained his breath.

"You're the one who pointed a gun at me! I didn't even know you were in 'ere!" Finn yelped.

The commotion had attracted the attention of Ada and Isaiah, who had come running and stopped in their tracks upon seeing you standing behind John's desk in the middle of the night. They weren't stupid. John was topless, your clothes obviously rumpled, both with matching tousled hair and practically stinking of guilt. You'd been caught red handed. Ada's eyes flicked between both you and John, and you could practically see the pieces of the puzzle clicking together in her mind, all the moments she found questionable since you'd returned suddenly making sense, realising she had been deceived by the two people who she was meant to trust most in life. Finn looked absolutely crushed, he'd never been able to conceal his emotions as well as his older brothers and sister, linking his fingers through Ada's, squeezing her hand.

"I forgot to drop this off earlier." Finn stated, holding up a money box, "Ada had keys so we thought we'd sneak in so I wouldn't get done by Tommy. We did call round yours, Y/N. We thought you were in bed."

"I'm sorry." You said. It was not enough but you just didn't know what else to say. You couldn't make it right, you'd really fucked up this time. Tears pricked at your eyes, as Ada examined you in silence.

John stepped in front of you defensively. "Look, Ada-"

"How long has this been going on?" She asked, her voice shaking with rage. You and John exchanged a glance. "I said, how fucking long?"

"Five months, six in a fortnight." He answered.

Isaiah whistled lowly. "That's fucked. I thought it was only a few times, that it'd finished."

"Never really over when it's John is it." Finn interjects, you glance to him, were you just one in a long string? You shouldn't be surprised but it was easy to pretend he may actually care about you.

"You've been fucking around for six months behind my back?" Ada yelped, Finn trying to comfort her but she pulled away from him. "And you fucking knew Iz."

"I'd expect this from you, yeah? Wouldn't put anything past you these days.." she sneered at John, "But you? You?! You're meant to be my best mate, but here you are sneaking about fucking my brother?"

"Ada-" you began, eyes welling with tears.

"I thought I could trust you. You're just another fucking razor chaser, aren't you?" She spits. "That's why you came back."

"No it wasn't, Ada-"

Her eyes flashed with anger, but this time John was on the receiving end. "You bought her that fucking coat ,didn't you? The fur one. You did! Fuck's sake!" Her fists were clenched, shoulders squared. For the first time in your life, you understood why crowds parted for Ada Shelby. Understood all the free drinks and cab rides, the nervous serving staff declaring your meal on the house (always acknowledged by Ada with a hefty tip), understood why the men of Birmingham didn't last long with her.

"Did it feel good to swan about town in that fucking coat, while acting as though you cared about me? It's so fucking embarrassing. All trussed up because my knobhead big brother makes you feel special? Thanks for rubbing it in my face."

"Ada, I love you. I never meant to hurt you, I got caught up and that's on me. It's my fault."

"You're not acting like you love me. This isn’t what love is, Y/N." She retorted.

You couldn’t do anything but nod. She was right.

John opened his mouth to speak, Ada silencing him, a scowl darkening her features.

"I don't care what you have to say. Any of you. Who else knows?"

"Thomas, Michael, Arthur-" John listed off slowly, each name prompting Ada to break down a little bit more in front of you.

"I didn't know Arthur knew." You said pointedly, John sending you an exasperated glance. He was planning on dealing with that later, but right now was about his sister. Fuck him if he thought you were going to stick around much longer. You didn't want to hear him justify everyone else knowing about your fling with your best friend being left completely in the dark.

"That all you have to say for yourself?" Ada snaps at you.

"I have fucking no defense, do I Ada? I should've walked away." You pushed your hair back, frustrated at yourself, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You begged yourself not to cry. Tears wouldn't help anything.

"Why didn't you?"

You didn't know. Your silence only riled her up.

"Why didn't you fucking walk away?" Ada yelled, slamming her hands on the desk.

You felt hot tears run down your face, quickly moving your hands to dab at your tears.

"Don't you dare fucking cry. After all you've done, you don't get to cry in front of me." Ada growled at you, John going to shush her, obviously wanting to comfort you. "You can all fuck off. You've all lied to me and gone behind my back. Fuck’s sake, you could've just told me. You could've just told me."

"We didn't want to hurt you." John said, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder but she flinches away.

"This hurts so much more. You get that you all lying to me is so much worse, don't you?"

"We weren't thinking."

"You really fucking weren't." Ada laughs bitterly, shaking her head, blinking away tears. "Fuck you lot."

She stormed out, tailed by Finn, begging her to slow down and talk to him, protesting his innocence in the situation. Isaiah hesitated in the doorway, his eyes flickering between you and John.

"I had no idea you two've been at it for so long."

"Iz, fuck off yeah? I've had enough today." John shot back, sliding across the desk towards you. "You alright, lass?"

"We're done here, John."

He slid off the table, his hand cupping your face, "Hey, gorgeous, I get it but don't go breaking my heart tonight. Can we just leave this for tomorrow? Sleep on it."

The idea of getting any sleep at all tonight was laughable, you'd be up all night replaying these moments and torturing yourself. Tonight couldn't get any worse so you had to finally end it. Now was the right time.

"John, it should've never happened."

"But it did."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. It's over."

"Y/N. You know for me it was never just about-"

"You're making it difficult. Stop making it difficult. Whatever you say isn't going to change that right now we have to do the right thing."

"I know you're right, but I don't want to let go. Is it so wrong to want you? I adore you, you know that."

You wouldn't meet his eyes. Sighing, John pressed his forehead to the side of your head, chin brushing your shoulder, eyes closing. He was begging you to stay with him. There had to be a solution, you'd figure it out together. His voice was cracking, eyes glassy. He looked so much younger when he was pleading. The tall bloke who terrorised the Midlands with his razor rimmed cap, a revolver in his hand, and a ruthless trigger finger had vanished. You wanted to stay, burning to curl up with him and for him to kiss it better.

"I should go." You told him. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, letting out a shaky sigh before pulling away, nodding.

"I'd drive you home but obviously-"

"Obviously."

John suddenly turned from you, eyes narrowing at Isaiah who was still hovering at the door. "Thought I told you to fuck off. Make yourself useful and get Y/N home safely." His tone was ice cold once again.

Isaiah nodded, offering his arm to you. You reached the door and instinctively looked back at John. His eyes met yours, staring at you from his desk, just as you knew he would. He prepared himself to watch you leave every night, but this time was different. That was it with you two.

Isaiah strode down the street with you in silence. You were tucked into his side as was customary with the upcoming blinders who were particularly ambitious, but there was no relaxed chat.

"Isaiah. What’re you thinking?" You asked, voice tinged with nervousness.

He sighed, running his free hand across his jaw, "That was intense in there."

"Just how he is." You shrugged.

"Does he love you or sommet?"

"Fuck knows… does it matter?"

"Of course it does. Do you love him?"

"Drop it. None of that matters, it shouldn't have happened in the first place so it can’t," You snapped, the anger at the situation you'd created suddenly overwhelming.

Isaiah whistled, raising his brow at your obvious turmoil. "You're in fucking deeper than you want to admit."

He walked you up your path, watching you turn the key to the side door leading to your bedsit. You paused, turning to him.

"Iz… I don't know what to do next."

It was so dark, you could see his face only by the lit cigarette burning to embers between his fingers. He inhaled deeply, pausing before delivering his carefully laid out plan of avoidance. Obviously the event of him crossing the Shelbys and losing their good graces weighed heavily on his mind. You nodded, listening intently, noting his ideas of relocation but he explained they were a final resort. The best thing to do was try to regain their trust; in the long run, he had calculated, it was the only option that didn't result in your life being haunted by the Shelbys. Even if they left you alone, their enemies would make a point to go after you, seeing you as an easy target. The other option was to leave the country.

"Good luck, Y/N. I mean it." He muttered as you turned the handle to the temporary safety of your home. You nodded, offering you cheek for the polite good night kiss you'd become accustomed to. He rolled his eyes and obliged, pressing an affectionate kiss to your cheek and ruffling your hair. "I'm serious. Watch your back."

***

John broke down when he finally heard the lock click shut. His eyes had been prickling with boiling tears, his jaw tensed to hold them back. He yelled out in anger, flipping his desk with force, a loud crash as the wood splintered against the stone flooring, glass shattering from the photo frames. His hands went to his head, unable to stop the gasping breaths escaping from his trembling lips, his face reddening.

"Fuck’s sake." He growled. He'd fucked everything up. He had nothing, just as he'd told you the first night you returned. The consequence was no surprise, he'd anticipated the fall out for a while, but he couldn't resist you. He was completely guilty and had no defense; his only justification being that you made him think with his cock, not his brain.

Fuck’s sake. Polly was going to murder him. She'd always had a soft spot for Ada, as the only girl in the family, and was no stranger to lecturing him over his flirtatious behaviour around Ada's friends. She'd murder him. He had a half mind to never go home. He rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles. Polly had no use for tears. That's what she'd tell him when he was a boy coming home with a skinned knee. This was far worse.

He was also sure that he was a worse brother than Tommy, perhaps the worst in the world. His baby sister, who he'd helped to toddle, carry proudly on his shoulders after school and race with her on his back through the fields on the outskirts of Small Heath, had walked in on him obviously in the midst of fucking her best mate. If he had swallowed his pride and actually talked to her, he wouldn't be in this mess. He could've told her that things changed, that for the same reasons Ada loved Y/N he had fallen for her, that he was truly sorry but she had to know before it got too far and someone got hurt. He couldn't go back.

He should've never approached you that night.

He should never approach you again.

He looked over the mess of his office, the splintered wood and shards of glass, a confetti of paperwork. Now nothing mattered. None of this mattered. He'd lost everything and he had only himself to blame.

[beigehearts]

BRO IVE BEEN WAITING FOR A POLY ASK: AND A YANDERE ONE??? THIS IS A GOLD MINE Thank you so much butterscotch princess😭

CW: mental/physical abuse, kidnap, fighting

Of course you love the both of them, if not you wouldn't be here. Or at least you did love them. They were a couple and you weren't particularly interested in being a home wrecker. Yet, you can't hide anything from these two, they're definitely not stupid. To be honest things were becoming stale for Hisoka, and that's when they invited you into their relationship. Everything seemed so perfect at first, two men that you loved dearly who provided a balanced life. You could go to Hisoka for something exciting and new, but sit down with Illumi and relax. The three of you made a power throuple. But if it seems like it is too good to be true, it is. It really was too good.

It had been a few months into the relationship when there were red flags. Illumi and Hisoka never fought for each other, they never had to. You made sure they had their own time with each other. It was when it came to you that there was a problem. Constant arguing and fights over who gets to spend time with you and enjoy your company. Your idea of all of you hanging out was shut down, they each wanted their alone time with you. It went on like this for a few months. Until one day, it all stopped.

Suddenly it seemed as if your boyfriends had never fought in the first place. They never argued over spending time with you, they just knew when they could be with you one on one. At first you thought it was great. You were worried about their relationship for one another, and if it would last much longer like this. They must have talked about it civilly, otherwise it couldn't be so easy for them.

All of the red flags had been lowered and it was back to the honeymoon phase. The three of you got to cuddle at night while you could still have coffee with just one of them in the morning, or they could together. Honestly you weren't so sure about a polyamorous relationship in the beginning, but now you wouldn't change it for the world. Well, at that time you wouldn't have.

Suddenly the atmosphere changed, and you did not see it coming. Whenever you planned to go out, Hisoka and Illumi seemed to be on the same page about you not leaving. ----

"Hey, I'm gonna go hang out with some friends, I'll see you guys later!" You called out as you tied your shoes.

Illumi began taking off your coat and now you were very confused. "You shouldn't go out." He stated.

Hisoka chimed in from the kitchen while he made coffee, "It's going to rain, we don't want you to get caught in a storm."

"I'll just bring an umbrella, and anyway, Daisy will just drive me home." You responded.

Illumi shook his head and hung up your coat, "The news said it would be really bad today."

Hisoka added, "You guys may not even be able to drive in that kind of rain."

---- Everytime it went like this, there was always an excuse. It even got so bad that you were fired from your job. You spend every day at home now. Any time you even mention leaving anymore now, it isn't just excuses. "You won't be able to protect yourself." "Fine, if you get hurt it's your fault." "You can't apply to another job, you really think you can get another one after being fired?" Always something, and it's really starting to get to you. Soon enough it only escalated at it had been. You got dressed to leave and ignored their excuses, opening the door and stepping out. That's when it happened, that's when everything really changed. As you went to shut the door behind yourself, it slammed shut. It slammed shut right on your fingers.

Illumi came out and carried you back inside while you gasped and cradled your hand to your chest. "This is what happens when you don't listen to us. You'll get hurt." That's when you realized how bad things really had gotten. You were pretty sure that three of your fingers were broken, but Illumi wrapped them up with a splint and called it a day.

You just can't do this anymore. If they aren't going to let you leave, then you're going to have to sneak out. Or devise a plan. Of course Hisoka went through your messages, but that would be perfect for your plan. You managed to create a text chain with your 'sick older sister'. She asked that you come to see her ASAP because she is not doing well. This is something that they would allow you to do since it would be a one time thing.

As you laced your shoes and shrugged on a jacket, Hisoka and Illumi watched. Hisoka's hand was wrapped around Illumi's waist, and you could see his anxious grip on him.

"Okay, I'll be back at 4 pm." You had learned to lie through your teeth like a pro.

Hisoka forced a smile and nodded, "Illumi will be there to pick you up."

You give the both of them a quick kiss on the cheek and trot out of the door while waving. "See you soon!"

The sound of the door clicking closed behind you was the sound of jail break. You couldn't help it... You skipped down the hallway while giggling, until your skip turned into a run. And when you turned around? No one was there.

----

Killua and Gon were a god send. They accepted you as a person and your friendship became unbreakable. Each day when you woke up, you were excited to face the day. Most of your free time is spent with these two goof balls. If not with them, you're working.

They swung by your workplace when your shift ended so you guys could hangout. While these two are younger than you, they're very mature. Sometimes. And all of their friends are your friends, Kurapika and Leorio who are closer to your age. You would hang out with them too if it weren't for the fact they were always out of town for work.

The three of you make your way to the convenience store. Killua had been begging for the past two days that you guys go get Choco Robots.

Gon checks his phone and announces, "Kurapika and Leorio will be back tomorrow! Leorio said they got a hotel room for the night and would be back to travelling by tomorrow."

You and Killua know that means they're sharing a bed, but Gon is oblivious. And it's really not important for Gon to know at the moment.

Killua throws his arms in the air and yawns, "You always get off work so late. Why can't you work any earlier?"

"Tell that to my manager, she's the one in control of that." You retort.

An idea pops into Gon's head and you can tell because his eyes light up. "Instead of going all the way home, you should sleep over with us tonight! Alluka would love to see you again!"

"You know that her place is closer to us right now than ours, right?" Killua asks.

Gon's eyebrows furrow and he puts a finger to his lip, "Oh yeah..."

The convenience store's doors slide open and make a quiet 'ding' sound. Killua makes a bee line for the Choco Robots and begins putting the whole stock into a basket. You and Gon look at the drinks section and he settles on some strawberry lemonade. Besides the sleeping cashier, you three are the only ones perusing through the gas station sized mart.

Gon is pointing out the condoms and asking what they are when the soft 'ding' of the door sounds out. Killua is blushing and telling him to put the box back while you hold back laughter.

"Gon! Stop it! Just- just put them back!" He stutters out. They may have seemed mature for their age at first, but moments like this make you question it.

You feel a hot breath on the back of your neck and the voice to follow shakes you to your core.

"So this is where you've been hiding."

You whip around and push Hisoka away from you, it doesn't do anything but he does step back. Next to him is Illumi, eyeing not only you but his little brother. You knew they were brothers because Killua told you, but you never expected to see them in the same room together.

Killua's eyes go wide and Gon is already in a defensive position.

Ilumi takes his attention away from Killua and he leers at you instead. "That was a long trip to the hospital. Did you get lost leaving the building?"

"Hey! Why don't you just leave y/n alone?!" Gon barks at them.

It all happens in seconds, if you had blinked you would have missed it. Killua is slammed into the floor and his head makes a hard 'clunk' sound. Before Gon has the chance to attack, he's throw into a display rack, and tumbles to the ground. Killua is too dazed to react. Hisoka makes sure Gon can't get back up by stomping on his stomach, making him cough up blood.

Your last moment of freedom is spent by watching your friends be beat up. A cloth is pressed against your mouth and nose, and your arms are held behind your back. It smells heavily like cleaning supplies, potent ones. It takes a few breaths before you get dizzy, and until you begin losing control of your body. Hisoka is bent down in front of you and he places a kiss to your forehead.

You wish you knew what he said, but you've already succumbed to unconsciousness. Your freedom is relinquished once again.

[rogue-durin-16]

THINGS NEVER GO AS PLANNED (Part V/VII)

"the perfect excuse"

Summary: After Fred's death, George and Y/n lean on each other to carry on. This wasn't the most brilliant idea, though; George was pretty much in love with the girl, and Y/n— well, she had been dating Fred prior to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst mostly

Tags:

Suggested by: @crispykittywitch

Things never go as planned: @sarcasticallywitty15 @beautyschoo1dropout @s1ut4georgeweasley @sunshineandshadowss @missmulti @weasleywh0r3s @andreaareynoso @georgeweasley19 @dianarte

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa

Warnings: language, drinking, makeout getting spicy

A/N: idk what happened here, this was not planned I'm just horny ig??? Anyway have this part that was definitely not meant to unfold like this but hey, I'm not mad, so enjoy <3

Prologue: the aftermath

Part I: sleepless nights

Part II: candy floss

Part III: shock therapy

Part IV: wrong name

Part VI: the downfall

Part VII: apart

Epilogue: I still love you

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

I checked myself in the mirror one last time before heading to the kitchen. There was no actual need of dressing up nicely, since we both would be spending New Year's Eve at the flat, but since Ginny, Ron, Harry and Hermione were coming, we decided to clean up for our guests.

"Hmm, smells good." I leaned on the doorframe, observing George finishing cooking.

"These past five months' messes paid off." He joked, grabbing a kitchen rag to clean his hands. "Can you keep an eye on it while I go get read..." He trailed off automatically when his gaze landed on me. "Woah— okay." He cleared his throat, eyes slightly widened at my outfit, and I couldn't help but enjoy a bit too much his attention. "You look really good— is that the new blouse?"

"Yup." I replied, a coy smile dancing on my lips as I stepped to him and picked the kitchen rag myself. "C'mon, go clean up nice for our guests."

It only took him a couple of minutes, since he might have had his suit ready.

"Mind lending a hand with the tie, love?" He requested, stepping into the kitchen with his attention on the shirt's cuffs which he was buttoning up.

Damn, he looked so good; it wasn't even fair.

"Y/n?" He chuckled, finally looking up.

"Uh— yeah! Sure." I threw the rag over the counter and led my hands to the tie, taking my time to make the knot; maybe I wanted an excuse to have my hands on him.

We stayed in silence until I was finished; it wasn't an awkward silence, but it wasn't comfortable either— it was, in fact, stifling.

"There you go." I more like whispered instead of talking, sliding my hands down his chest briefly. His eyebrows were knitted, trying to decipher my demeanor; his hands caught one of mines before they fell limply on my sides, and for a second, I thought he was about to do something really stupid —something I had wanted to do for the last three months—, but then the bell rang and we stepped away from each other, going to receive Ron and Hermione as if that moment hadn't happened at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

GINNY'S P. O. V.

I took a sip of my brandy as we laughed at Ron's joke, my eyes drifting to Hermione and then to Y/n's lap, where Teddy rested, giggling and blabbering nonsense at George's hand movements and funny faces.

George had confided me quite ashamed that he fancied Y/n about two years ago, but I knew the looks he gave her were of something more than a little crush, if you may.

Had I not known Y/n, I would be worried she was projecting Fred onto the younger twin, but the girl knew better than that, so when we got to experience how their domestic life unfolded during New Year's Eve, I felt nothing but happiness at the way Y/n laughed at my brother's jokes, or how she stared at him in pure adoration as he played with Tonks's and Lupin's baby.

"You're getting him waaay too exited, mate." Harry chuckled, extending his arms for Y/n to hand him the toddler. "He needs to go to sleep."

Teddy, who we had put to sleep in Y/n's room shortly after dinner, had woken up right before the New Year came to us, and, since he refused to go back to sleep, Y/n took on the task of entertaining him. George joined as soon as he witnessed Teddy's hair going rainbow-like at Y/n's actions.

"Actually, I think we all need to go to sleep." I said, leaving the glass on the table.

"Boo, you're supposed to be the youngest!" Y/n whined, earning a laughter from the rest.

"Ginny's right, though." Ron stood up and all of us followed his lead. "It's really late and I don't want mum to see us drunk when she wakes up."

"Not a good impression to make on your future mother-in-law, oi, Granger?" George's tease made Hermione's cheeks flush, murmuring an 'idiot' before giving him a hug. "Take care, all of you." He added after he and Y/n had hugged everyone goodbye.

The five of us exited the flat and apparated in the Burrow's yard in silence until Harry asked, "are they together now?"

"We don't know." I confessed with a grimace.

"Well, together or not, they're definitely fucking."

"Ronald!" Hermione exclaimed, slapping her boyfriend's arm.

"I just said what everyone else's thinking." He defended himself, and none of us could deny it.

READER'S P. O. V.

We began to pick up the dirty plates, glasses and cutlery in order to take them to the sink and leave them there to wash them tomorrow.

"Oi, look what I found." George wiggled a firewhiskey bottle at me from the living room.

Without thinking twice, I grabbed the half empty ice cream tub I had just left over the counter, a couple of clean glasses, and I made my way to George.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"—and that was only in our... Third- no- fourth! year?" He finished the story, joining me in the giggling; I didn't doubt the story was funny, but I was sure it seemed ten times funnier because of the alcohol. "Wait- where were you back then?" He knitted his brows in confusion.

"A year below you." I laughed.

He snorted. "Below me," he took a look at his empty glass before reaching for the bottle with a laugh "hell, I wish."

I couldn't help but laugh too. "Sure you do." I wouldn't have laughed if I were sober, but then again I highly doubted he would have said that if he were sober. "Y'know- you can have me below you anytime you want, Georgie." I replied between lazy giggles, leaning on him so he would pour more firewhiskey into my glass too.

A loud snort left George, triggering one of my own. "Sure, darling." He loosened his tie and tossed it to the floor. "Why's it so hot in here?"

"Mmm... Must be 'cause of you." I threw my head back to stare at the ceiling. "Or... maybe's just the alcohol." I groaned at the feeling of my head spinning, and sat upright again to chunk the now full glass in one go. "I'm hot too."

"Oh darling... You can't even imagine how much— I mean... Every day— but tonight you look partic... particular...ly? Dashing." George was leaning back against the armchair's feet, his eyes closed, his cheeks flushed and an amused smile dancing on his lips. "Why must you be so bloody perfect?" I found myself staring a bit too much at the ginger. "There's still a conscious part of my brain that knows I shouldn't be saying this shit." An idle chuckle left his chest and one of his eyes peeked open. "I'm gonna blame the alcohol, aight?"

Right, the alcohol —The perfect excuse.

I laid my glass on the floor and got up, stumbling towards him. "Oi, careful— you don't wanna trip and fall." He laughed, steadying me with his hands as I plopped down on my knees besides him. "We won't make it to St. Mungo—" With one hand on his shoulder and one on his cheek, I went for it, cutting him mid-sentece in the process.

It was one hell of a sloppy kiss, and I was so concentrated on doing it right that I didn't even hear the moan I sent into his mouth.

What the hell are you doing?, My mind screamed.

I attempted to pull away, but I felt George's hands on my sides, clutching my clothes in his fists to tug me flush against him. I took the cue and did my best to climb onto his lap and straddle his legs without losing balance.

What we were doing felt terribly wrong, and, the morning after, we would regret this little slip so much, but in that exact moment I could only think that his lips tasted like fire whiskey, strawberry and chocolate, and that the quiet moans slipping through them between the kisses were loud enough to quiet down everything in my head.

I stopped to take a breath, resting my forehead against his; our eyes locked, pupils blown out.

Heavy pants left our lungs, as if we had just run a marathon. It felt like the kiss had made a bomb go off, one that we had unconsciously been building up those past months.

It took an instant of looking at each other to know we thought the same; we wouldn't get this opportunity ever again, so at that point, we might as well carry on and pray for it not to be too bad in the morning.

This time it was George who smashed his lips against mines, teeth clashing and tongues going in each other's mouths. The situation was escalating quick; a tad too quick, I daresay.

He cursed and mumbled something about too many clothes, proceeding to pull his shirt over his head with my help, given that he could only do so much with that amount of alcohol in his sistem.

I could do even less, though. It was proven when I first attempted to get rid of my blouse.

I struggled to unbutton it, an awkward, dizzy silence falling among us before his hands travelled to mines "Wait... Lemme..." He frowned, finding that simple task as frustratingly difficult as I did. "Bloody..." A browned off grunt left his swollen lips.

"Tear it." I mumbled, letting my hands roam over his chest.

"You sure?"

I hummed, somehow impatient. "We'll fix it tomorrow." I captured his lips once more.

We'd fix it tomorrow.

I felt his hands fisting my shirt by the cleavage before giving it a firm tug, making my gasp; I wasn't expecting all the buttons to come off in one go, given his drunken state.

I didn't even have time to discard the piece of clothing before his lips attacked my neck, shutting my brain off instantly due to the sensation.

"You want this?" He whispered in my ear, his hands going up from my thighs to my back until they reached the clasp of my bra.

Not trusting my voice, I nodded vigorously, making the world shake around me so hard that I had to shut my eyes.

I felt a feather kiss on my shoulder and his fingers unfastening the bra; he was doing his best to be smooth, which wasn't a lot, but I could tell he was trying hard.

"You're so sweet." I blurted out as his fingertips ghosted over my skin while he removed the top from my body.

He tried to reply something, but articulating kept getting harder and harder as we went deeper into it, so he gave up on words and so did I; at least until his fingers slid between my legs and started to tease me through the fabric of my remaining clothes.

"Bed." I whimpered, unconsciously rocking my hips against George's hand whilst my own travelled to his crotch, feeling his erection and consequently earning a moan from him.

"D'you think we'll make it?" He inquired, already retreating his hand briefly so we could stand up.

Soon enough we were stumbling to my room, hands all over each other, bumping against the furniture and walls due to not being able to stand upright.

When we fell on the bed and tossed the rest of our clothes to the floor, it began to dawn on me how bad this was going to be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

My head was pounding violently in my skull; that's most likely the reason why I woke up. It took a moment for the blurry memories of the previous night to flash into my mind.

"You feel... so good..."

"Fuck- George— faster, please..."

"Y/n— I'm-"

"No." I shoot up, not acknowledging that Y/n was still asleep by my side. "Fuck no. Nononono." I ignored the terrible headache caused by the hungover and, grabbing my clothes, I exited the room. "No fucking way." I kept mumbling to myself, stalking to my dorm to throw on some fresh clothes.

I sat on my bed, my hands running through my locks, bringing back the memories of Y/n's tugs on them in the process.

"What the fuck did I do." I almost choked on the sentence.

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding VII

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Part I - - - Part II - - - Part III - - - Part IV - - - Part V - - - Part VI

CONTENT WARNING: Please be advised this chapter may contain triggering material. More detail available in tags. 

It wasn’t until Anakin was staring at the hot sauce bottles and solitary mysterious green takeout container that he remembered they were at war, and therefore no longer in the habit of restocking the apartment’s cold stasis.

“Obi-Wan, there’s nothing to eat!” 

"I know!” came the call back. “I’m trying to meditate!”

Anakin closed the stasis door and walked back out to the common room. Obi-Wan sat crosslegged on the window sill.

“Do or do not, there is no try,” the knight quipped.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes to look fondly at the man standing before him. Maybe tomorrow, when he woke alone in a dusty desert hovel, he would regret letting himself play pretend for so long. Maybe this whole day would fade from his memory like a dream.

But right now, he felt... peaceful. He wouldn’t claim to be satisfied by the explanations he imagined for Anakin, but it would have been far more disturbing if he somehow came up with an actually sympathetic justification for genocide. He got to say and hear a number of goodbyes. He even got to cry over Anakin with the comfort of his presence. 

Now he had to let go, to be there for Luke. (And he could always get more spice...)

“I guess if you need to meditate, I can go pick us up food from the Temple Tapcaf.” Anakin offered. 

“Thank you, Anakin. Today...helped. More than I can explain.” Obi-Wan said softly.

“I- I don’t really deserve that. Considering it was all my fault.” Anakin bowed his head, helpless for words, but uncomfortable with being praised.

“Not every terrible thing that has happened is your fault. You made a series of terrible choices, yes. But there were, there are, other dark forces at work and not a single Jedi in the order was able to stop them. At least for a short time today I was able to set that aside, so for what it’s worth, thank you.”

“Kriff.” Anakin said shocked. “Of course there’s more. Ok. That’s all right, we-” he was cut off by a growl from Obi-Wan’s stomach. 

A snort of laughter escaped before Anakin smacked a hand over his mouth. “Alright, I’m going to the Tapcaf, you just...meditate until I get back.”

Obi-Wan swallowed and nodded, “I love you so much.” 

“Force Obi-Wan, you’re going to make me start crying again.” He pulled him into a bear hug. “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m not gone, ok? Just...meditate. And drink some water.”

"Hmm, I don’t know. Some of my best choices recently have been stupid,” Obi-Wan laughed. The words were light, but Anakin felt a prickle of unease, a hint of danger. There was no clear cause, and Obi-Wan seemed relaxed but...

Anakin gripped his Master’s shoulders, staring him dead in the eye. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

Obi-Wan sighed, “I promise.” He pulled Anakin down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Goodbye, Anakin.”

"I’ll be back in 20 minutes.” He paused, then mumbled, “i love you too” before speeding out the door.

Obi-Wan settled back into meditation, reaching inwards. Everything but his body and the light within faded. He magnified his hunger, his thirst, visualizing the pack of dried jerky in his hut, the precious jars of water in the basement. He could almost feel the heat that never quite abandoned Tatooine, even during the short nights. He opened his eyes

and saw the temple apartment.

He shut them again quickly. He was sure he could snap himself out of this. He sank deeper inward, careful to leave his shields perfectly intact. With the galaxy as dim as it was, a real show of force had the potential to grab attention across star systems. Force purging toxins, fortunately, was more a matter of internal concentration than outward power. It was one of the first skills Obi-Wan had truly mastered as a Jedi, thanks to numerous kidnappings at the start of his apprenticeship and hard drinking towards the end. 

It was uncomfortable to be that keenly aware of one’s kidneys, but Obi-Wan managed. It was less intense than a healing trance, anyway. His heart rate increased as various metabolic processes sped up- and almost immediately slowed down. Huh. The drug must of almost run its natural course, and now he 

still in the temple.

Kark. Shit. 

‘Breathe’ he thought. Stress was only going to increase his chances of a stroke. Alright, so meditation wasn’t working. Maybe he could try for longer, but part of him was nervous that if ‘Anakin’ returned he’d lose the willpower, and so far the passage of time had been extremely linear. He was too invested in the fantasy at this point for anything easy.

Remember your training. Your eyes can deceive you, do not trust them. 

Padawans were taught three main methodologies to move beyond mindtricks, hallucinations, visions, and the like. Looking In, Reaching Out, and Breaking Out. 

Looking in wasn’t working. That left the other two options. In the past, when his senses were lying to him he could always trust in the force, but now...it was just too much risk. Reaching out like that, with his whole self, meant the chance of finding someone.

That left breaking out. Obi-Wan jumped up, staring intensely at the details in the molding, the stains on the carpet, at everything. At no point today had he spotted objects fading to grey in the corner his vision, or ripple as memories from different time frames overlapped, but surely there must be some weak point.

Nothing. 

Shit, he really had stayed too long. Alright then, time for more uncivilized measures.

He walked to the kitchen and pulled their butcher’s vibroblade from its block, holding it to his neck, then hesitated.

This had to be done, but it didn’t make it any less unsettling. It was his own fault for lingering in the delusion so long; all the more palatable paths to escape had closed off, and after all he had been through he refused to die from a drug overdose. Gods, it might take years for someone to find the body.

He steeled himself, bringing the blade back up decisively only to drop it with a clatter. Pressing a hand to his throat, he was unnerved but not entirely surprised to find a stinging line of pain. His hand came away wet with blood. He instinctively pressed both hands to the cut, pulse rapid and heavy and slippery beneath his palms.

It’s just a hallucination. It’s just an extremely vivid hallucination.

A thought occurred to Obi-Wan then, and he felt something in the pit of his stomach drop in horror.

What if...what if the blade was real. What if he was actually moving around his home right now, hazily sleepwalking in a pantomime of the peaceful stroll and tender embraces he was imagining. It would explain the immediate relief from the water this morning...hadn’t he found his way to food and water even dazed from sleep-debt and blood-loss during the war?

He had a vibroblade in the desert too...

His pulse pounded harder beneath his hands. The cut wasn’t even that deep, but for the first time Obi-Wan felt the true existential horror of his current trap well up. If he didn’t know where the walls were...how could he escape.

He took a deep breath, acknowledging and letting go of his panic.

He had the force. He would just have to be delicate in his application. He picked up the bloodied tool from the floor but decided to simply to clip it to his belt for now. A force-null object would be harder to distinguish at first touch.

Obi-Wan walked to his temple bedroom and opened the barest crack in his shields, just enough to reach out, get a sense of existing currents in the force. He stirred at one until a small vortex of light formed. To anyone looking, it would appear a naturally occurring, low-powered whirlpool, common enough on Tattoine. Any gentle moves he made in the minutes before it fell apart would hopefully be obscured by its wake.

He hesitantly laid a hand on the lightsaber on his bedside table, lowering his shields a little further. His heart sunk when he realized that his memory had even recreated the perception of force-imbued temple walls in the periphery. The Kyber in his saber reverberated with a familiar song. He jerked his hand away. That felt too much like his real lightsaber. He couldn’t risk it. 

Before Obi-Wan truly began to panic again, he realized something missing. Anakin’s- Darth Vader’s saber. Since picking it up on Mustafar, the crystal in it had screamed at him, halfway to corruption. When he touched the blade he could almost feel... feel what horrors it had been bent to commit.

Most of the time he left it buried under a rock pile in his basement, too afraid to work on healing it.

He couldn’t hear it now- but he could feel the memory of what it used to be.

It sat innocently on his Anakin’s bedside table. There was a tinge of darkness to it of course- this saber had only ever known war. But when he rested a hand on the blade it was clear this belonged to the memory he had walked with today, not the tyranny of reality.

Grasping it firmly, he marched back to the windowsill and settled, intent on his choice. Sunsets here couldn’t compare to tattooine- they were just too different. The binary play transformed the infinite horizon. It was something on Tatooine he unabashedly marveled at.

Courasant, on the other hand, transformed the sun into a reflection of itself. Untold millions of transparisteel buildings refracted the star painfully at some points while casting shadows on the rest. The filter of light through constant smog resulted in strange shades of neon green and blood red. It was beautiful, but uncomfortable to look at too long.

He closed his eyes and pressed the saber to his chest.

---

Anakin was impatiently waiting in the hot service line when the urge to return to his apartment insistently welled up again. He pushed it back of course- Obi-Wan needed food and Anakin couldn’t keep putting his own selfish impulses in front of his Master’s wellbeing.

He held out for a few seconds, but the itch was getting stronger, sharper. He looked down at the tray- it already had most of Obi-Wan’s cold favorites, but he really wanted to get him his favorite soup if the line would just move a little faster. He jolted when, for the first time that day, Obi-Wan’s shielding thinned the slightest amount. Not enough to get anything clear, but the fact that there was movement at all...

He left the line; they could always come back together if Obi-Wan wanted. Hells, maybe they’d do a late night visit to Dex’s for some real comfort food. Anakin still couldn’t get a sense of what Obi-Wan was up to through their muffled bond. He felt a buzz in his ears, not unlike the moment before an enemy blow.

He picked up speed, tea sloshing in its thermoflask. An elder looked at him annoyed as darted around him.

He started speed walking in earnest as the feeling got more intense. A sandwich fell to the wayside.

Speed walking quickly switched to jogging, then running; there was a shout of complaint as he ditched the whole tray carelessly behind.

He took the last few hallways at a full-out force-assisted sprint, the Force itself screaming at him to move. A small part of his mind thought we’re safe inside the temple Obi-Wan promised not to do anything stupid i’m going to get such shit for freaking out over nothing. 

He sensed nothing from Obi-Wan over the bond; not a hint of fear or anger or surprise. He blurred around the last corner, feeling like he might throw up with his increasing, unexplained panic.

Not caringabout anything butgettingto Obi-Wan beforeitstoolate he smashed down the door at the same moment Obi-Wan, sitting peacefully by the window, turned on the lightsaber pointing directly at his heart.

Time seemed to slow. Splinters of the door frame hung in the air as Anakin desperately pulled the lightsaber away from Obi-Wan in the half-second between activation and ignition.

He wasn’t quite fast enough.

Blue plasma pierced Obi-Wan’s chest as time caught up. Pieces of the wall shattered like shrapnel as he turned, shocked to see Anakin. The saber flew away in a straight arrow. 

Anakin threw himself to Obi Wan’s side, wildly trying to draw heat away from the searing hole before it could vaporize the surrounding flesh. He couldn’t tell what the saber had pierced, or how far it had gone in considering its last second movement.

One hand trained on a hundred battle fields robotically reached for his comm-unit to call for emergency medical assistance. His mind however, had largely been left behind a few minutes ago, when he was trying to pick what Obi-Wan would want to eat for dinner.

What came out his mouth was more incoherent shrieking than anything else, but he had at least called the correct line for temple aid.

He threw down the comm, focus intent on controlling the smoldering burn. The air around them seemed to boil and Obi-Wan started struggling to get away. Anakin bodily held him down, finally finding words,

“What the FUCK, OBI-WAN! YOU LITERALLY JUST PROMISED NOT TO DO ANYTHING STUPID! YOU PROMISED!”

“that’s why- hkk I  have  to” Obi-Wan rasped.

“Karking Fuck.YOU- STOP MOVING!”

Anakin felt a twinge of danger come from the side but was too focused to do anything but shift his body as shield. A sharp pain pierced his gut but he ignored it. 

The air crackled with heat and power as the wound beneath him cooled. A faint trickle of dark blood oozed out, probably burns breaking from recent movement, considering the instant cauterization. He couldn’t see any light coming through, which meant he had moved the saber at least a quarter klick before it activated, Anakin thought semi hysterically.

Finally, someone showed up to investigate the disturbance. In truth, probably less than a minute had passed since Anakin entered the room, but he really didn’t care.

“HELP ME!” Anakin shouted.

“What happened?” Mace Windu asked grimly, falling to the ground next to them. Not waiting for an answer, he set his lit saber aside and placed his hand to Obi-Wan’s forehead, stilling the violent thrashing.

Anakin opened his mouth but he just didn’t have the words. He didn’t know. 

“General Skywalker, report.” Mace Windu commanded sharply. 

“I left him alone to get dinner for us. I ran back and when I broke open the door he was holding the lightsaber to his chest. I tried...to pull it away. It pierced him, and I’ve been trying to manage the initial burn risk. I called for medi but I don’t know their eta.”

“They’re behind me. How did you get stabbed?” the Master demanded.

“How did I what?” Anakin looked down to see a vibroblade sticking out from his left side. Right, the pain from before. Obi-Wan suddenly mustered up the energy to wake up despite his state and Windu’s compulsion. He looked around wildly before yanking the knife from Anakin’s side.

Anakin gasped, but managed to still his brother’s hand using the force before he could finish bringing it up to his neck, which Anakin just noticed was bloody.

“STOP TRYING TO DIE!” Anakin screeched.

“...I’m...not....I’m....trying.....to...” 

But before Obi-Wan could finish the sentence, the healers finally arrived, pushing Windu aside to grab hold of Anakin and Obi-Wan. He could feel a buzz of energy go through him, stopping at the growing damp patch at his side. He tried to push the man away but the heat in the room was starting to make him dizzy

“I’m fine! Focus on Obi-Wan.”

Mace placed a hand on his shoulder, and in the gentlest voice he had ever heard from the man, said, “You’ve been stabbed Anakin. Let the healers help both of you- you’ve done well looking out for him.”

Obi-Wan, still occasional thrashing was being loaded onto a hoverstrech for transport. A second stretcher waited next to it. 

“Master Windu! He’s fighting us,” Master Che called sharply. “Can you tell us what happened?”

“Master Kenobi tried to kill himself,” Windu replied flatly. “His wounds are self inflicted and he’s violently fighting assistance” 

There was a beat as that information was processed. Knight Bant, who must have arrived at some point, said in slightly less flat voice, “He displayed erratic behavior earlier today, and I ruled out drug interactions.”

“Thank you, Knight Bant.” Master Che plunged a syringe of some kind into Obi-Wans thigh. He finally stopped attempting to fight, falling down onto the board. “Red team, with me. Orange, you have Skywalker,” She instructed sharply. 

Anakin numbly watched most of the healers leave with Obi-Wan through a hole in the wall. He slowly started to stand and somehow ended up guided into a seat on the hoverboard. Looking down, he was surprised to see his tunic cut away in favor of a large bacta patch. 

“Hey,” he protested. “Who stabbed me?”

“We can discuss that after you have surgery,” A Human healer replied. Master Covamos, he thought.

“This is my fault” Anakin said, suddenly urgent. “I shouldn’t have left him. He told me goodbye, he was saying goodbye all day, I should have...”

“You saved his life,” Windu interrupted. “You got to him just in time, don’t waste your energy on should-haves. Now sleep.”

Anakin wanted to argue more, but instead found himself laying down, vision blurring. His face felt damp, had he been stabbed more than once? Windu said a few more words he couldn’t quite make out. There was a brief stinging sensation, then everything faded away. 

----

Part VIII

[wing-ed-thing]

Fraternizing and Spineless (Kabuto x Reader, Part IV)

Synopsis: Kabuto has a fixation and you sometimes apologize to inanimate objects. Ever since one fateful day, you’ve been drawn to each other from opposite sides of the battlefield.

Word Count: 3,429

Warnings/Tags: @tiktoktheclockisticking​ Bullying, Language, ANGST CITY, Alcohol, Side Iruka x Reader, Fem!Reader

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Finale

Notes: I’m fully expecting to get messages in my inbox that range drastically in forcefulness. Perhaps a “how dare you” or two. 

You stood outside of Shushu-ya, almost as if you expected to be told to come in. A silly notion. With a heavy sigh, you clenched the warped gift in your hands, starting to regret the shoes you wore among other things. But you know you couldn’t back out now. You couldn’t miss Iruka’s birthday. Your reluctant hand grasped the door and before you could chicken out, you heaved it open.

The group was easy to spot, even in Shushu-ya’s dim lighting. Everyone gathered around the bar. A few people sat in a large, open booth. The crowd made you nervous, but you couldn’t help but feel a semblance of relief. You weren’t the first one there. Iruka spotted you immediately and waved you over. You took a sharp inhale before forcing yourself across the restaurant with a smile. You were, at the very least, glad to see him.

Iruka got up from his spot at the end of the extensive, circular seating and greeted you warmly. Knowing him, he sat at the end just to see people come in the door. He extended his arms to you in a hug. You happily embraced him. It had been quite some time since you got to spend any quality time with your friend. You handed him his present.

“As usual, you’re always so thoughtful.” Iruka pursed his lips, a sentimental expression coming upon him. Even still, the corners of his lips turned upward into that classic Iruka grin. “You didn’t have to.”

“It’s your birthday, Iruka. Of course I’m going to get you something nice.”

Iruka motioned for you to sit down and carefully placed your gift in the pile he had accumulated. You took a seat among two ninjas who you only knew by name. Iruka sat down next to who you were fairly sure you recognized as Kakashi of the Sharingan. The mask made it difficult to tell. You took your place next to Might Guy, the Leaf’s Green, Taijutsu Beast. You looked over to Iruka and wondered how he made such powerful friends. You supposed it was hard to not be acquainted with any famous shinobi in Konoha. Perhaps that’s what happened when you weren’t afraid to talk to people. You spied a few more of your colleagues around the bar, including your teammates from the last mission you took. They didn’t seem particularly pleased about your presence, but no one was going to impulsively make a fuss in front of Iruka.

You kept your head down and that’s where it stayed. The conversation went, for the most part, without you. You ordered a water quietly. You weren’t the type to drink, especially when you were as on edge as you were in this particular setting. The waiter set down your glass, making a sort of a sour face. You stared at the clear liquid, supposing that not many ordered water from a bar.

“That’s all you’re going to get?” You looked up into Kakashi’s intense eye. “You know you’re not on the clock, right?” He chuckled and you nervously laughed with him.

“Don’t listen to him.” Iruka rolled his eyes before taking a sip of his own drink. His kind gaze found yours. “You can do whatever you want, just know that the tab is already taken care of.” He looked past you and waved towards the bar. The bartender waved back.

“No, no. I completely understand!” Guy wrapped an arm around you, holding you a bit too close for the volume of his voice. You immediately let go of your drink. Your eyes went wide as he shook you with every word. “You gotta watch out for that hangover! Very smart! I commend you!” Kakashi tsked, tilting his head towards Iruka.

“Such a bad host, letting her sit next to Guy like that.” Iruka laughed sheepishly.

“Sorry,” He scratched at the back of his neck. “I guess the seat was open for a reason.” Guy pouted at the discourse across the table, arm still wrapped around your shoulder.

“Nonsense! Tease me all you like but I just know that… uh…” He turned to you with an outstretched hand and as much embarrassment as Might Guy was capable of. “What was your name again?” You took his much larger hand in yours and spoke your name, realizing that you hadn’t prior. He immediately shouted your name as if to commit it to memory, shaking you even harder than before. His shout got the attention of the rest of the booth and you suddenly your self consciousness skyrocketed. “—and we’re going to be best friends by the time the night is over! What do you think? You down for a party?” And suddenly you were expected to respond. You glanced around nervously.

“Um, yeah. Sure thing… I just think it’s really nice how everyone’s together.” Despite your response, you still felt like a bug under a magnifying glass. Sweat began to bead on your brow and your palms. You crossed your legs. “I feel like everyone’s always on missions so it’s nice to be among friends. And um, I can drink to that.” You glanced around the table once more, to Guy, to Kakashi, and then Iruka. Iruka’s eyes fluttered shut.

“I couldn’t say it better myself.” You raised your water weakly.

“Happy Birthday, Iruka.” Iruka raised his glass of sake and a roar went around the booth and extended to the bar. Someone hastily ordered a round of shots for the whole group. They came quickly, likely due to whatever likely large tip Iruka gave to the bartender.

One slid across the hard surface over to you. You gripped it between your fingers. The alcohol went down your throat with a steady burn. You let out a gasp with a bat of your eyes. The aftertaste of the ethanol burned your nasal cavity. Kakashi let out a deep laugh. Guy patted you hard on the back causing you to cough. Iruka smiled, ordering another round. You took another shot. People filtered in the door. And as the night went on, the three of you took to greeting Iruka’s guests along with him. The party crew quickly overtook the bar. A dull roar overtook Shushu-ya.

More words spilled from your mouth than you thought ever would in one sitting. Your three colleagues listened to you intently, jovially, and exchanged stories of their own. A small crowd gathered around your booth, members flitting from the bar and back. And for once in your life, people actually listened to you. You told your stories animatedly, waving your hands in emphasis. You took in the smiles around you, tales of missions and edgy impressions flying from your lips. Distracted, you hardly noticed the looks exchanged by your old teammates as they leaned against the low back of the booth.

“And I said, ‘You don’t need a rag, you need a towel’!” All those gathered around you burst out in hysterics. You felt the low rumble of Guy next to you. Iruka couldn’t pick his head up from the table. Kakashi yanked him up by his collar, revealing Iruka’s red, cackling expression. Kakashi snorted, dropping the cloth under his hand to cover his own face as he mocked his longtime friend. Joyful tears were still welled in your eyes when a slender hand clamped onto your shoulder.

You looked behind you only to become face to face with the kunoichi from your team. Her ever prevalent scowl remained plastered to her lips but they swiftly upturned into a sickly sweet smile.

“Hey, why don’t you tell everyone about our last mission? Or should I say, your last mission.” Your eyes widened and a chill coursed down your spine, remembering her unforgiving grasp on your hair following your meeting with the Hokage. You clenched your fists underneath the table, balling up the fabric of your clothing. What did she want from you? She crinkled her nose at you smugly. “Shy all of the sudden? That’s okay, I can tell it.” You heard Kakashi clap his hands together. You jumped.

“I’m always down for a good mission story,” He admitted eagerly. You shook your head vigorously.

“No, this one’s not very interest—” Another hard slap on your shoulder. Her nails dug into your shoulder.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit. I think they’ll all find this very interesting.” The kunoichi settled into her spot behind you, shifting her weight as she leaned forward. With a finger, she pointed out your two other team members. “See we were assigned with this one to find a scroll in a territory suspected of being owned by Orochimaru. ‘Cause she’s a wonder at blending in, right? That’s what we were told. And of course you know how these things go. Of course we find someone. Some bitch of Orochimaru—”

And as she described it, you could remember the scene vividly. Your teammates were reckless in their fighting and overall poor choices for a stealth mission. Flashy jutsu corrupted the frame of the underground system. The walls began to crack and shake. Your enemy had been caught off guard and outnumbered. Seeming to be already injured, there was only so much he could do to fight back. That was how you met Kabuto Yakushi.

“And so she doesn’t even warn us that the tunnel is, like, about to collapse. Some freak earthquake or something. So the enemy is knocked out cold and we’re running and running to try to find a way out and—”

You dove towards him. You didn’t know what drew you towards him in the first place but that’s what you did. As your team left without you, you tried your best to save the young ninja who had to only be as old as you. You tried to drag him but either you were too frail or he was too heavy. Your second option. Your hands ignited in healing jutsu, flickering on and off. You were by no means a healer, but your only thought in your panic was to get him awake. And as the maze of tunnels imploded around you, your world went black.

“So we don’t see her for days. You know, we think she’s dead. So in the meantime, we check out the other places on our list. Nada. We’re about to completely give up and then, wouldn’t you know, this one shows up having spent almost a week in enemy territory holding the exact thing we were looking for. Zero scratches and she apparently ‘doesn’t remember’ anything about it. Don’t you think that’s funny?” The kunoichi motions to your other teammates.

“I remember it being very funny,” One huffs, arms crossed. The small surrounding crown had gone silent. You dared to look across the table. Kakashi sat with his arms on the table, wordless. Iruka pursed his lips, equally expressionless. He cleared his throat. An awkward overtone laced the atmosphere.

“Well I think that’s enough of that—”

“Well, I wasn’t done. Almost there, though, I promise.” The kunoichi held up her hand. “‘Cause wouldn’t you know it? When we got back to the village, we found out that the scroll was a fake.”

“Well,” You squeaked, “Later we did find out that it was authentic after all—”

“But that was later,” She snapped. She ruffled your hair roughly, giving your head a slight push as she finally took her hands off of you. “Still doesn’t explain where you got it from.” She leaned in towards your ear. “Traitor.”

“Okay that’s enough.” Iruka stood from his seat. He extended his arm towards the door. “You three have clearly had too much to drink. I think it’s time for you to go home.” The kunoichi scoffed.

“We haven’t had too much of anything,” She snorted with a roll of her eyes and opened her mouth to say more. Guy turned with the most serious expression you had seen from him all night.

“He’s giving you an out. I suggest you take it.” He told her and apparently, that’s all it took for them to leave.

Iruka apologized for your team’s behavior but said nothing more about it for the rest of your time present. Most of the partygoers stuck to the bar now. Everything was off and you knew it would be as long as you were there. Your friends could hardly look you in the eye properly. You remained for a little while longer, starting to feel dreadfully sober. And when you thought you wouldn’t draw too much attention, you announced that you were leaving.

“Let me walk you out.” Guilt rattled around in your chest. It was Iruka’s birthday and you ruined it, just like you thought you would. And yet, he still offered to walk you out.

You allowed it, suddenly finding yourself standing outside of Shushu-ya, Iruka by your side. Even as the door closed behind you, you could hear the sound of Konoha’s nightlife. You waited for Iruka to speak, but the weight on your shoulders became unbearable.

“I’m not leaving because of you, you know. I had a good time. I really did, so go back in there and know that, okay?” You tried to read his face. He looked conflicted and the pounding of your heart only increased.

“I just want you to know that you have a friend. Eh, friends. No matter what.” You blinked at him a few times. You didn’t like how he said that last part.

“No matter what?” You let out a nervous laugh for the umpteenth time that night. Your eyes wandered erratically. “What do you mean by that?” You were expecting some reassurance, but none came. Your mind filled in the blanks. You took a step back. He took a step forward. “No matter if I sold out the Leaf? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“I-I didn’t say that.” He stammered. Suddenly frantic. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Well, you’re not denying it.” You gripped onto your strap bag. Another step back. Another step forward.

“I don’t think you sold out the Leaf. Not on purpose.” The tail end of that sentence stung. You began to tremble. Another person who thought that you were a traitor. “Listen, I had a student once. He’s out of the Academy now but he was in your shoes once.” You couldn’t look at him. You focused on your shoes, the shoes you’ve regretted wearing. “I know how guys like that are. I know how manipulative they can be, how they can convince you into doing something that you know you don’t want to do.” Your head snapped up.

“I didn’t do anything wrong. I wasn’t convinced to do anything wrong by anyone.”

“I know how kind you are. I know that you had a good heart. No one’s going to blame you if someone took advantage of that. I don’t care what happened. We’ve known each other forever. I’ll always be here for you.” Iruka gently placed his hands on your shoulders and his forehead against yours. You became cognisant of how violently you quaked. You didn’t even register his confession. The sharp burning between your eyes threatened to spill over into tears.

“Iruka, please stop. Just tell me that you believe me.” You gripped onto his forearm, wanting to feel a semblance of comfort. “I’m not a traitor.”

“I do believe you.” Unconvincing. You looked into his eyes, salty droplets now silently streaming down your cheeks.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” Iruka nodded against you without a word. A beat. You gulped. “And Kabuto didn’t either.”

He pulled away, trying to fight a frown from crossing his face. You could see it. The realization morphing his features. Iruka tried his best not to show any of his mixed emotions, but he was always one to wear his heart on his sleeve. The corners of his mouth twitched.

“Who? The bingo book ninja?” He shoved a hand in his pocket. He always did that when he was nervous. “No, I’m sure he didn’t. D-didn't do anything wrong.” Once again, unconvincing.

“I’m sorry, I don’t feel well. Please, uh, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” You didn’t look back. You ran home.

***

When you got to your apartment, you dropped to the floor. You scrambled for a kunai to pry open the floorboard. Throwing the plank aside, you plucked out the scroll. Unraveling it, you bit your finger, smearing your blood across the summoning symbol.

You were already starting to scurry off when Kabuto appeared. You walked right through the white cloud of smoke. He felt troubled, but that wasn’t something you picked up on. Kabuto immediately pulled out a scalpel in defense, ready for an emergency fight. You didn’t even tell him to lower his weapon. You didn’t blink twice. You stormed straight to your wardrobe, yanking out a large travel bag.

“What’s going on? I thought you were going out tonight.” Kabuto asked, but you ignored him, stuffing belongings inside the bag. You skittered frantically around the room, pulling sentimental belongings from your drawers and off your shelves. Kabuto looked on helplessly as you muttered to yourself. He could hardly catch you with how erratically you darted around your small living space. With enough calculation, he caught you, grabbing you by your wrists. You struggled against him. “Hey, hey, hey slow down. Tell me what happened.”

You looked up at him, rivulets still flowing from your eyes.

“Please, Kabuto,” You begged. “Let’s run away together.”

His immediate response was to let go of you, stumbling a bit backwards.

“What?” His mouth went dry.

“I—” You couldn’t even get your thoughts straight. You just spoke, everything spilling out of you. —“Please take me away from here.” Ever-suave, Kabuto found himself panicked.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve killed a lot of people for one thing—” You met his eyes, but in your haze you missed all that they told. You saw complete and utter rejection.

“Aren’t you the one who always tells me that you’re not my enemy? You’re all I have.” Betrayal. If Kabuto could name the expression that washed over your face that would be it. You wiped the wetness from your skin with your sleeve. “Please, you know I would be quiet. You could have any of my books. I don’t even care about shoes on my bed. I don’t even need a bed just please let’s go right now!”

And for all of his big talk, Kabuto was at a loss. He wanted to. More than anything he wanted to scoop you off of your feet then and there, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t an option. He couldn’t bring you to Orochimaru. You were supposed to be here in the Leaf. You belonged here in the Leaf. This was where you could be happiest, not on the run with him. He’s caused enough damage to your life.

“I can’t.” That was all he managed to make out without his voice cracking. And as he looked into your large, wet eyes, his heart shattered.

“You can’t or you won’t?”

“I-I can’t. I—” He kicked himself. —“You’ll be happier here.”

“I’ll be happier with you,” You pleaded. You balled up your hands in the front of his shirt. “Please, I love you.” Kabuto diverted his eyes from yours, clenching them shut.

“No, you don’t.” He placed his hands over yours, gingerly trying to remove you from him but you stood firm. “You’re drunk. I’m sure that if you go to bed you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“I’m not drunk!” You argued, getting even more desperate than you already were. “You told me to gather up some nerve so here it is! I love you! Please let’s go, just you and me. We can start over—” And with a few quick hand signs, you fell asleep.

Kabuto’s hand hovered over your forehead. He could see your fear, feel it too. He caught you as you began to collapse and brought you over to the bed. Knowing your recovery speed, the jutsu wouldn’t last for long. Perhaps it would last a half hour, maybe less. Anyone else and he would have expected them to be out for the rest of the night. He covered you with your blanket and sat at the edge of the bed, ready to recast his spell when you began to come to for the rest of the night. He knew that if you kept talking, he would have done exactly what you asked. Kabuto buried his head in his hands and uncharacteristically, for the first time in years, began to sob.

Thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, and followed. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

[iluvyou-xoxo]

no regrets

hi... i’m not dead lol. ive grown insecure to post with each new follower but i haven't forgotten about you. i also don’t know what i want my blog to be anymore. anyway please enjoy this v slight angst with levi because i love levi and i love angst (i also love you <3 happy valentines day)

you and levi have been seeing one another in secret for a few months. neither of you felt the need to put a title on what you guys were as either of you could be eaten by a titan or murdered by military police, but the moments you shared were more than what would consist in a casual hook up.

today you were simply cleaning your office in an attempt of productive procrastination as there were piles of paperwork that still had to be filled out after your last failed expedition. of your seven-person squad, three had been eaten and one had both of their legs broken and multiple cracked ribs. sitting still for some hours at your desk would not be ideal as that would be when you'd get lost in your thoughts thinking of failure after failure, and countless lives lost as you tried to claim the land outside the walls.

an hour in and your room was spotless, yet you still wanted to do more so you got on your knees with your back facing your office door and began to scrub the floorboards. two knocks signaled that someone wished to enter in so you said a simple “come in” and continued scrubbing the clean floor.

“hmm, never thought id see the day where there's a room cleaner than my own.”

you sighed and wiped your forehead of the sheen that formed from your aggressive scrubbing. turning around to face the handsome man that claimed you multiple times last night, you asked in a slightly annoyed tone, “what would you like captain levi?”

“well, i was going down to get tea and thought you'd like some too when i walked past your door.”

instantly you felt bad for your response but if he was upset or confused about your rude reply he didn't show it.

“no, thank you, but i'm fine. maybe later once i'm done cleaning and doing my paperwork”

“alright,” levi was never one to beg for attention, but he did feel neglected as you slipped from his private quarters after the steamy night you both shared. this morning he woke to a cold bed rather than your fingers lightly brushing through his hair, but he also knew with your arrangement all the extra things you did were exactly that: extra. you both had no reason to drink tea together or share a bed other than in moments of passion.

as he turned to leave your room you quickly stood up and called his name for his attention. “levi, i actually think we should end whatever this is between us.”

levi stood with an impassive face as he thought over your words. taking in his silence you began to ramble an explanation in hopes of possibly remaining friends, “it's just that- fuck. i know that we both understand that we’ll probably die a gruesome death similar to our fallen comrades, but i feel that i need to be alone. it's hard not worrying about you. oh, and please don't get me wrong, i know you are very capable, but the idea of losing someone close to me-“

he quickly shut you up with a light peck, something odd from a man that would only kiss you passionately with the intention of sex.

“y/n, i understand how you feel, but don't you want our last moments to be filled with no regrets? i know that i’d regret not fucking you the night before i die.” he was never one with words and they lacked passion that you would get from most men trying to keep the person they like from leaving, but it was more than enough to make your heart swell. levi never spoke romantically and you felt that this was the closest you’d get to it.

he quickly pulled your hand that was still sudsy from cleaning the floors and positioned you to sit on the couch. after, he laid his head on your lap, like he did most nights when he couldn't sleep, and placed your hand on his hair. the motion was almost mechanical as you ran your fingers through and lightly scratched that one spot on his scalp that made his eyes flutter shut.

although levi didn't show it on his face, you could tell he was desperate for this moment as he didn't even bother forcing you to wipe your damp hands off before touching him. something you were sure that would piss him off any other time. you both stayed there and did your best memorizing this moment. although the relationship shared still held no title and you probably wouldn't be doing anything different in the future, you still cherished the moment shared so that when your times did come, there would be no regrets.

date: february 14th, 2021

[lightsaberupmybutt]

Three’s a Crowd - Reader/Ben Solo/Poe Damerson (Modern AU)

alright so Ben/Kylo is a big ego kid in this, because of course. Also, Rey is ACTUALLY Lukes daughter in this, making them cousins. Ive fiddled with the plot okay sue me. 

Summary: Poe, Finn and their roommate have been living in a harmonious tenancy, but when Finn decides to move out for a year of travelling, the two are left with no option but to look elsewhere for their third body. Rey Skywalker, a friend of the group, proposes her cousin for the role. He's in a band, wears all black and all in all is somewhat of a social reject - but he's also all theyve got.  

“I think that one was actually somehow worse than last weeks” You tell Poe, as he pours himself a juice and settles down next to you on the sofa. You'd just finished showing around another possible roommate and you felt exhausted in every sense of the word. 

“How can he be worse than the neo nazi?” Poe shot you an unbelieving look and rolled his eyes, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table and knocking some of your papers in his wake. 

“Alex was a she, and they asked if they could hang their deer head in the front room” you grimaced even thinking about it, weren't all artsy college students supposed to be vegetarians anyway? why did you have to get saddled with the only blood thirsty one on campus. 

“Thats not so bad”

“Poe she showed me a picture of her taxidermied cat”

“Oh”

You had tried to find a polite way to stop her from passing you her phone, but you were too nice to make her feel uncomfortable, and now the image of the long dead tabby would remain behind your eyes for god knows how long. 

“was she hot?” You shook your head, causing Poe to sigh wistfully. 

“Not hot enough to cancel out her obsession with dead bodies anyway” you informed him, the hopeful look from his eyes gone. 

“Face it Poe, were doomed” You let your head fall into your hands, Poe letting out a laugh before wrapping his arm around your shoulder. 

“Hey we’ll get someone! who wouldn't want to live here?” You knew his question was rhetorical but when looking around the cleaner than usual flat, you had to admit it was missing something. Bare spaces on the walls from where Finn had taken down his pictures, the empty side of the kitchen counter that had once houses his overpriced coffees. You even missed picking up his empty cups after him, the room feeling like it had less character without them. It truly hadn't felt the same in the flat since Finn had left, and although Poe concealed it well, you could see it was getting to him too. Poe had, after all, known Finn first; Finn managing to get a very drunk and outspoken Poe out of a sticky situation he had found himself in when running across a local gang in a dive bar. The ‘first order’ as they so called themselves, had an infamous reputation around campus for being trouble makers and general doers of bad deeds. Ever since that night they had been an unstoppable duo, until they met you of course, and their duo became three. 

You loved Finn, and you knew told miss him like hell, but you also knew that Poe must be feeling that ten times over. 

“You wanna do something tonight?” You asked, changing the subject before his mind  drifted to where yours had. 

“what kind of something?” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, 

“Gross” 

“hey I'm serious!”

“what about Razor Crest, they are open late, we could grab some drinks and meet up with some people” 

Razor crest was the only worth while bar in town; it was certainly nothing to write home about, but it played fairly decent music and it had a marginally less sticky floor than others. Additionally, your other friends lived just over from the humble saloon, making it the perfect watering hole for you guys. 

It didn't take much convincing before you had Poe out the door and ready to socialise. Upon arrival, he headed to the bar while you were waved over by Rey, who had already found a booth and was already at least a few drinks in. 

“Look, i think i have a solution to your roomie problemo” She told you, peeking over her straw, a gleam in her eye that made you feel not all too confident in her yet to be spoken plan. 

“Go on” you told her, cautiously. 

“My cousins back in town” She told you between gulps. 

“The weird one?” You asked, 

“Hes not weird, just ...eccentric” the last word was more of a question, but you could tell she was on a roll, 

“He's just joined one of the college bands and Auntie Leia says him and Uncle Han are butting heads” 

“ah cool, weve always wanted  live music in our own flat at 2 am” Poe injected, rejoining the table and placing a drink in front of you before taking a sip of his own. 

“hes not BAD at it, he just plays loud i think” She corrected him, “anyway, he's not a total twat, I'm sure he would be considerate of your sleep schedules” 

“didn't he try and stab you with a stick when you were five” you asked her, you'd heard stories of this cousin before and none of them were quite savoury, 

“that was ages ago! he's like way old now” she was starting to slur her words, but you had a feeling this was something Rey was quite set on. Rey was stubborn, and when she got something in mind she would move hell to make it happen; she was also your best friend, and someone you trusted the judgment off. Had she gotten you into some weird shit in the past? sure. 

Did you have any other options; nay on that. 

“Fine, get Han or Leia to bring him round at some point next week and one of us will give him a tour” You tell her, and she lets out a little happy shrill at her own personal win. Poe, not so much. 

“Speak for yourself, weirdo cousin can see himself around” he crosses his arms and pouts, you give him a little nudge. 

“Hey, maybe you'll be best mates” you offer, but when he shoots you a death stare you go back to your drink.

The family turmoil must have been more vicious than Rey had let in on; It was barely the next morning before you had a tall, intimidating male knocking on your door. 

“Hey!” you offered him, in as cheery a voice as your hung over self would allow.

He looked down at you from his towering height, but gave no verbal response. 

“You must be Ben?...”  He offered you the slightest nod you'd had ever seen in response. Okay so, not much of a talker, noted. 

You waved him in, shutting the door behind him. God, he looked even bigger inside? is that possible? Rey had failed to mention the sheer height on the boy. You'd seen pictures of her and her aunt and uncle, it seemed like Ben was a scientific and biological mystery. Like how did he get clothes to fit? did he have to shop somewhere special or

you were snapped out of your thoughts by a clearing of a throat. 

“So, how much is the rent” so he DID have a voice, 

You informed him automatically, still part dazed. 

“Ill be in by the weekend” he told you, and with a nod he moved past you, making his way back to the door.

“But wait .. y .. you haven't even seen your room yet?” You stumbled, dumbfound by the lack of foreplay. The previous people you had shown around were full of questions; they wanted to know the ins and outs of the place. Ben had seen all of the door way and the front room and he was already signing the lease. 

“See you then” he didn't stop, hand on the door knob as if you hadn't spoken.

“But i don't have your phone number” you don't know why that came to you first, but it was true. At no point had Rey offered you direct contact with Ben, probably assuming he would. It seemed reasonable, that you'd need his number before he moved in, didn't it? Poe was always texting you about random shit in the flat, arguably too much, but it seemed like the norm for people coexisting in such a small space. 

He turned back at you and gave you a confused look, 

“why would you need my number?”

“erm... to talk to you” your condescending tone not completely masked, 

“but ill be living here” he stated, which, he had you there. 

Before you could even think of a response  he was out the door.

True to his word, Ben had his things over by that very same weekend. Although it was unsurprising considering just how light he packed. In fact, other than his bass and musical equipment, you couldn't really think of anything he had actually brought with him to the flat. You got to meet his parents when they dropped him off, both of whom seemed leaps and bounds more conversational than their son. Ironically, you got Leia’s phone number before her sons; her telling you to message if you ever needed anything. It felt like an indirect jab at Ben, a ‘if he fucks up let me know’, but you digress. The tension between Ben and his dad was blatantly obvious, them sharing no words before he got back into the car and Ben into the house. He did give his mum a small hug goodbye though, and you thought you saw a small tear in her eye before she managed to wipe it away. 

Since his move in, Ben had kept painfully to himself. You barely saw him at all in those first days, just heard him through the walls the odd time he dropped something - or saw a plate or cup gone from their places in the kitchen. To be honest , it felt more like a paranormal haunting than a new roommate. Poe was vocal of his apprehension to the situation, sharing glances with you when you would both be in the living room and you'd see ben scurry by or passive aggressively texting you when his favourite cup had been used by someone who wasn't him. it was a relatively small issue, but Poe had blown it so out of proportion that you had ordered a new set of cups from Amazon and sent him the link, shutting him up for a while before he found something else to complain about.

it was the fifth day before you actually bumped into ben again. He was on the sofa with his base set up, twiddling with his amp. The sight surprised you so much you physically jumped back, causing him to look up. crap. act cool. act cool. 

“hey” you offered him

“hi” hi replied back, looking back down at his amp. 

right, yer. his space, give him his space. Just get your stuff and go back to your room. don't speak to him, leave him alone. he clearly wants to be left alone. 

“nice day isn't it” you wanted to cover your mouth, the words coming out against your will. Truthfully, you had no clue why you said it. You hadn't even looked at the weather this morning. Its just what people say right? 

“Erm” his eyes shot to the window and then back to yours,”no”

sure enough, it was pissing it down outside. The sky was actually comically grey and you'd have laughed if you werent so angry at yourself. You were unsure of what to do, and he was still looking at you, almost assessing you. His eyes were so serious and dark they felt like they were burning tiny holes into your skin. shit, you had to speak now right?

While regretting every single life decision that had brought you into this kitchen at this time, Poe sauntered into the room like your night in shining armour, ignoring Ben all together and coming straight over to you, placing a big arm around your shoulders. You saw Ben drop his head back down to this bass, and you used all your might to not let out a sigh of relief.

“Tonight, I'm taking you out” He offered, a cheeky gleam in his eye. 

“Are you now” 

“Razor crest, drinks and dancing, be there or be square” He lists off as if he's a paid promoter, causing you to let out a giggle. 

“Whos invited?” 

“just the gang” he said, causing you to shoot him an eye roll, knowing full well you ‘gang’ consisted of all of three people, yourself and Poe included in that number. 

but then you remembered, there was another person now, whether they liked it or not. Poe’s eyes followed yours to Ben and then back to meet yours again, you saw the realisation change to disgust, as he shook his head silently at you. 

you knew this look, the ‘don't you dare’ look, the ‘not in 1000 years’ look. But you couldn't help it, your lips were moving before you could stop them for the second time this morning. 

“Are you free tonight, Ben?’

The look of sheer betrayal on Poe's face made you wince, surely he'd understand right? he knew you well enough to know your verbal diarrhoea  problem. 

Ben didn't even look up, but he did let out a small laugh that felt quite antagonistic. 

“i dont go to Razor Crest” 

“i don't go to razor crest ugh” Poe mocked, causing Rey to let out a hysterical giggle, and you a sigh. 

You'd been out for all of three hours and you were all already feeling the effects of the alcohol. It was late and the bar was jam packed with students all raring to go. Poe had been making eyes at one particular red head  almost all night and you were half surprised he hadn't already made his move. Poe put out, it was a fact. You and Finn had at one time made a fridge chart for him, a gold star awarded every time he brought  girl home. Whether the goal was to make him feel proud of his conquests or embarrassed, you still weren't 100% sure, but after a month or so you had both lost count and given up. You told yourself it didn't bother you, that he was just a friend, and that he owed you nothing, but every time he left you at the bar for another girl something stung inside; something you pushed deep down but regrettably was still there none the less. 

Sure enough, as the night progressed, you and Rey ended up fending for it alone, and instead of feeling sorry for yourself you decided to do the responsible thing and drink more. 

After the third round of shots, Rey calls it in. 

“I think I'm gonna be sick” she tells you sheepishly, and you can't help but belly laugh in response. She starts to shuffle towards the door and you go to follow.

“Hey don't leave on my behalf” she tells you earnestly, but you wave her off. 

“Nah I've had my fill, I'm starting to forget which flat number i live at” you tell her, causing her to giggle this time. 

You both stumble out the bar, past the smokers and up the cobbled road towards her flat. She unlocks her door and lets herself in, not before giving you a drunken hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek. 

As you ready yourself to make your way back to your own flat, you come back past the bar entrance; a particularly prominent cobble causes you to trip ever so slightly and gain a whoop from a group of boys who were passing round a box of marlboro straights. 

You suddenly realised just how dark it was and just how alone you were. Most nights you wouldn't stay out this late, and if you did, then you'd normally be walking back with finn. You let out a shiver, a mix of both the cold night air finally breaking through your drunken daze and a smidge of fear. The Razor Crests entrance lights were getting progressively further away, and although you know that you only had a maximum of a half mile walk back to your home, it felt like ample distance to get kidnapped or murdered in, most probably both. 

How many true crime stories started with a young drunk girl, scantily clad and out alone at night? You could hear the police reports now, which photo would they use? you prayed it would be a hot one, at the very least one after your thin brow phase. 

Being literally bumped back into reality, in almost a cruel humorous way, you felt yourself walk head first into a figure, their arms coming out to catch you as the sheer momentum bounced you back. 

Oh god, I'm dead. I'm literally going to die.  

“Hey, chill out” The voice made your heart beat both slow and race again, 

“Ben?!” you shrieked, voice hoarse through pure anticipation of your thought to be demise 

“Are you okay” he asked, and only then did you realise you were shaking like a leaf. 

“Im fine” you let out in a small voice, looking down at your shoes. You could feel the redness in your cheeks through pure embarrassment alone. This was not an ideal situation for him to see you in, and you kind of started to with that he had been a murderer, at least then you wouldn't have to deal with the second hand embarrassment in the morning. 

“What are you doing out here”

“why are you out alone” 

you both asked simultaneously,

“I was coming out for a smoke” He told you, flashing his tobacco pouch at you from inside his coat. His very warm looking coat, might you add. Another shiver ran down your body. 

“Im coming home from Razor Crest” you tell him, trying to be matter of fact but slurring your words just enough to spoil the show. 

“Yes obviously, but why are you alone” he shoots back in some what of a patronising tone, it wouldn't sit well with sober you and it definitely doesn't go down well with drunk you. 

“Im a big girl” 

“clearly” he makes, making extra sure to look you up and down from his towering distance above you, causing you to huff. 

“well i can take care of myself” 

“you shouldn't be out alone around here, its not safe” he ignores your response, looking you dead in the eye. 

You feel something inside you flutter, a warmth that you can't quite control. Okay, ben might be weird and a bit annoying it would seem, but he was handsome, thats for sure. The limited light danced off his strong features and dark shaggy mop of hair, making him look both dangerous and appealing. 

As if you were standing here mentally flirting with the idea of being with Res cousin; you made a mental note to punish yourself for the ludicrous thoughts in the morning. 

“Okay well I'm going home now” you tell him, attempting to push past him, but his large hand finds its way to your forearm and pulls you back,

“yes, you are, come on” If what he said before was patronising, he was now speaking to you like you were a dog he was walking. 

“go have your nicotine, ive got this one covered” you tell him with a mock salute, causing him to roll his eyes. He lets go of your arm and you take your win, trying to step confidently away without falling. You're proud of yourself for handling the situation when you realise he's following all  of 10 steps behind you, rolling a cigarette in his hands while holding a filter between his teeth. 

when he catches you looking, he nods down to his hands, 

“want one?” he mumbles between his lips, still holding the filter pride of place. 

“no thanks” you snap, picking up pace. 

Ben smirks at you, but you miss it, too focused on not embarrassing yourself and keeping your feet in line. 

[yes-ihavealwaysbeengreen]

The Next One’s on You 2/5

Whelp Maxwell Lord has been consuming my thoughts all day and I sat down and wrote out the next part. Part three probably won’t be out till Saturday but I didn’t want to wait to post this one. Thank you my darling @justanotherblonde23​ for being my emotional writing support buddy. Thank you for reblogging, commenting, and liking! Let me know if you want to be added to a Taglist. 

Summary: A series of moments in the life of Maxwell Lord x reader centered around drinks. 

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x F! Reader 

Warnings: 18 + for language and some making out 

Taglist: @josepedropascal @mrschiltoncat @ghostwiththemostbitch​ @mrsparknuts @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @maxlordsgf @xjaywritesx 

My Masterlist  

Chapter One - Triple Espresso 

Chapter Two: Vodka Martinis 

A week passed, then two and nothing. Not a sound. Silence from the illustrious Maxwell Lord IV and so life moved on. The shop had a steady stream of customers, and evenings were spent vegging out in front of the TV in your pajamas with whatever dinner you scrounge together that night. You pull the vanilla ice cream closer to you and dig the spoon inside when your roommate Michael comes out his tight black jeans, and black turtleneck the sleeves rolled up to his elbow. 

“Oh honey, it’s a Saturday night,” he wiggles his butt at you, “you should come out with us tonight we’re going to that new dance club, get out of this depressing apartment.” 

“Oh yeah...that’s not really my scene. I would much rather be home with a good book or TV, but you go and have fun! Don’t worry about me,” you smile reassuringly and he scoffs. 

“How about a date then?” he uses the mirror on the wall to apply a thick layer of black eyeliner stopping to look over at you, eyebrow raised. 

“What?” 

“My friend Tom from work, he’s single and looking to mingle,” he wriggles his eyebrows up and down at you, “What do you say? Friday night dinner at Les Amis?” 

“That new French place downtown?” 

“Yeah, you’ve been talking about going there since it opened. Just give the guy a chance, what else would you be doing on a Friday night. Seems like your mystery man didn’t pan out.” 

“Mystery man?” you sit up straighter and place the open container onto the coffee table. 

“The one who left you those white roses,” he rolls his eyes and finishes the wing tip. Closing the tube with a snap and putting it into his fanny pack. Your heart sinks as you think about the beautiful flowers and the arrogant bastard who left them. 

“Oh those…” you say dejectedly. 

“So what about Tom?” he puts one hand on his hip and looks at your expectantly. 

“Oh…” what could be the harm, “sure why not. You’re right, I have nothing else going on, and I have been wanting to go there. Who knows maybe I will find the love of my life with this Tom.” 

He laughs, “there’s the spirit. Oh sweet little barista, we will find you love yet!” He pulls the door open and shut quickly, his platformed boots smacking loudly down the stairs. 

You groan, throwing yourself back against the couch, a hand coming up to massage at your temples. What’s the harm? Maybe this Tom guy will be wonderful and you’ll end up happily ever after, like one of those Disney movies. 

Friday night comes before you know it and you straighten your dress again in the mirror. The black cocktail dress is the nicest thing you own with short sleeves, a white lace collar, cut off just above the knee. You pair it with your sensible black heels grabbing your clutch and heading out to catch a taxi. 

When you pull up the lights from the restaurant twinkle and you gaze at the elegant people inside drinking champagne from tall flutes. You take a moment to imagine that’s you when you are interrupted by your thoughts by a tap on the shoulder. 

“Excuse me, are you y/n? Michaels friend?” you turn and look at an attractive man with short cropped black hair, thin lips, blue eyes, and a suit with a purple waistcoat. 

You nod smiling and reach out your hand, “Tom right?” 

His grip is firm and his palms are sweaty as he holds your hand up to his mouth and gives it a sloppy kiss. You give a slight grimace as you pull your hand away and cover it up with a smile. “Shall we?” you gesture towards the hostess and he nods, putting his hand on your lower back as you’re both led to the table, his hand dipping lower and squeezing your ass. 

He pulls out your chair and as you sit down and he leans toward you, “you look good enough to eat,” he murmurs in your ear and you have to suppress the uncomfortable feeling growing in your stomach. 

You try to laugh it off and concentrate on the meal. Conversation flows freely and you almost feel relieved until the end. “So why are you single?” he asks. 

Your drink catches in your throat you sputter out a surprised, “what?” he ignores you continuing. 

“I mean when Michael asked me if I wanted to go out with his friend I thought he meant one of those young things he goes out clubbing with every weekend. Obviously that isn’t you,” he takes a sip of his cocktail, “I mean you're pretty, but I think we both know this isn’t gonna go beyond tonight. So why don’t we just skip dessert and get out of here?” 

You stare at him incredulously wondering if he’s actually serious and when he just takes another sip and gestures for the check you close your eyes sighing. When you open them again he is sliding his credit card to the waiter and you look around the restaurant trying to think of a way out when you feel eyes burning on you. You slowly turn to the left and see a large table filled with men and women in expensive suits and dresses. Sitting at the head of the table and fuming is Maxwell Lord the fourth. 

Fuck. 

You groan and put your head down rubbing at your temples. You hear the pen scratch against the pad and Tom hops up to his feet and slides on his coat, holding a hand out to you. “Let’s get out of here baby, and I will rock your world.” 

“I’m not going to sleep with you,” you put your hands down flat on the table and look up at him. 

“I just bought you dinner,” he scoffs, “it’s time for you to return the favor baby,” he moves to grab your wrist and you pull it quickly from his grasp. 

“Please just leave, don’t make a scene,” you plead and he does what he’s done all night, ignored you. 

He bends and gets right in your face sneering, “Now I see why your single, fucking bitch to good for anyone. Maybe if you got some, you wouldn’t have that stick so far up your as-” you slap him hard across the face. Tears burning in your own eyes. 

He shakes his head in shock and the slap echoes across the restaurant, customers turning to stare. He rubs his cheek and looks like he’s about to explode grabbing the water glass closest to his hand he pours the entire contents of it hard at your face. The freezing water shoots in your eyes and you gasp as it soaks into your dress and into your underclothes. “Fucking bitch,” he shouts stomping out the door. 

You close your eyes and reach for your napkin using it to clean off your face. You listen for the noise of the restaurant to resume to a gentle hum before you open your eyes. You do everything in your power to avoid the eyes of the other patrons, especially Maxwell Lord. The waiter comes up to your grimacing, “Can I get you anything honey?” she asks, holding out another napkin. 

You shake your head no, gratefully accepting it and thanking her. She smiles lightly before leaving. You stand up and shiver, feeling the tendrils of water seep down your legs. Keeping your eyes straight ahead you walk out the door and suck in a large gulp of air, body trembling slightly as a cool breeze blows past. Instantly regretting the choice not to bring a coat. 

“You know, when I said the next drink is on you...I didn’t think you would take it so literally,” your eyes close and head drops as Maxwell Lord’s voice charms behind you. 

You sigh and turn towards him, taken aback at how he’s not smirking like you thought he would be. Instead his hands are clenching tightly in a fist and he looks downright boiling. Chest heaving, neck red, and a slight sheen of sweat on his brow. 

“What do you want Mr. Lord?” 

“I…” he unclenches his hand and runs it through his hair, “I wanted to know if you were alright, that was quite the scene inside… did he...did he hurt you?” his voice takes on a dangerous edge as your eyes raise to meet his own. 

“No,” you reply breathlessly before coughing, “No, I’m fine.” You shiver again as another burst of air blows past. 

You feel the heavy coat land on your shoulders before you see it. His suit jacket carefully pulls across your shoulders as he wraps it around you. You try to protest but he scoffs, “You’re freezing,” he chastises, “take the damn coat.” 

You say nothing pulling your arms through the sleeves and wrapping the front around your chest. You're enveloped in the scent of fresh linen and something spicy from his expensive cologne, and you sigh. “Thank you,” you whisper. 

“My limo is on it’s way, let me take you home,” he steps closer and you retreat. Defenses rising. 

“Thank you but I would rather catch a cab then step foot in your sex mobile,” you turn away from him attempting to flag down a cab but having no luck. 

He groans, “My sex mobile?” 

“Yes. Who knows how many women you’ve fucked in there I don’t want to catch some disease. Plus I already told you once Maxwell Lord the Fourth that I am not some cheap whore, and believe it or not I meant it.” 

“You don’t think I know that?!” he shouts and you whip around looking at him wide eyed. “Listen, I make it a habit of getting what I want. Whatever I want….women throw themselves at my feet, money freely flows, and I have a whole household of servants to do anything I want. I will admit that day I acted like an...an asshole but...you...you’re different.” 

“When I saw that guy treating you the exact same way I had...and then when he tried to grab you, I saw...red. That fucking…” he takes a breath to calm himself, “I know it’s not what you want but I would feel much better if you let me bring you home.” 

You observe him for another moment before nodding slowly. You just stare at each other, his breathing slowing and matching pace with yours and when the limo pulls up you both walk towards it, never breaking eye contact. You slid into the backseat and he follows his leg brushing your own. 

“Where to sir?” the driver asks. 

“Home,” he shouts back and your eyes widen. 

“I thought you said you would take me home?” 

“Yes, to my home. I want to take you out for a drink and being...well being me, I can’t do that without it causing a publicity nightmare…” He trails off looking at your wide eyes, “Is...is that okay?” 

You get the feeling he doesn’t ask for permission very often and you slowly nod your head. This had to go down as one of the strangest nights of your life. Tom certainly turned out to be the villain in your fairytale but maybe there was still hope for at least a nice ending. The driver makes twists and turns and your stomach flips as his hand moves down to grasp the seat, finger brushing right against your own. Without thinking you move your pinky over to graze over his ring. You hear his breath catch as he links his pinky with your own. 

The car pulls up to a gorgeous mansion with tall white columns and two marbled lion statues. The butler greets him at the door and you smile at him in greeting and hand over Maxwell’s coat. Maxwell takes your hand gently and guides you to another room. A large brown leather couch takes up the center of the room under a persian rug. A roaring fire in the fireplace illuminates the room in a warm glow, huge bay windows looking over an expansive garden and pool. He lets go of your hand and you feel the aftershocks slide up your arm from his touch. 

He goes over to the bar on the far wall and pulls down two glasses. Filling a shaker with ice you watch as he meticulously fills it with vodka and vermouth, slapping the glass over it before he lifts it over his shoulder and shakes it furiously. You can see his arms flex under the white linen shirt he wears held in place by a pair of brown suspenders. 

He slaps the side of the shaker to release it and strains them both into the glasses before spearing an olive and putting it into one glass and going to spear the other you shout, “No, please no olives,” he looks over at you eyebrow raised, “do you have any cherries?” 

He says nothing, only removing another saucer and tossing two cherries into the other glass and carrying both over. He hands you the drink and clinks his glass against yours taking a sip. You watch, mouth dry, as he swallows and his neck stretches deliciously. 

“Come,” he walks over to the couch and sits down patting the seat next to him. 

You take the seat hesitantly beside him and take a sip savouring the taste. He puts down his drink on the small table in front of you and turns to you, “I think we got off on a rocky start…” 

You snort, “you think?” 

He glares at you before smiling, “Yeah...that was probably my fault. So why don’t we try this again,” he holds a hand out to you, “I’m Maxwell Lord the Fourth, CEO of Chimtech Consortium.” 

You shake his hand feeling the electricity spark in your fingers again, telling him your name and adding the title of barista to the end. He repeats it slowly and feel yourself warm at the way your name comes out honeyed on his tongue. 

The ice broke, the two of you into easy conversation talking about everything. All about his company, his family, what he likes to do when he gets a free afternoon, and even his favorite color. The more you learn about him the more you begin to unravel the mystery of Maxwell Lord. You’re both on your third vodka martini of the night when he brushes his fingers over your cheek. 

“You have an eyelash,” he holds it on the tip of his finger putting it up gently to your lips, “make a wish,” he whispers. 

You close your eyes and blow gently, lips pushed together and you sigh when you feel the press of his lips against your own. It’s hesitant and barely there and when he pulls away you surge forward pressing your chest against his own and capturing his lips in a heated kiss. He responds eagerly and pulls you close till you're straddling his waist on the couch, his hands running up and down your back. You groan as you feel him rub gently against you and he uses it to lick his tongue into your mouth. 

You arch your back as you feel his tongue warm and velvety intermingle with your own. He scoots forward to the edge of the couch and pulls your legs to wrap around his waist. Hands moving lower to knead your ass gently through your dress. His foot kicks out and he knocks the drinks to the floor spilling onto the expensive rug. Glass shattering as they hit together just right. 

You both pull away breathing heavy to look at the ground, the vodka seeping into the rug. You burst out laughing and he looks at you with that damn eyebrow cocked again, “What’s so funny?” 

“I would like to get through one interaction with you without one of us spilling our drinks,” you tease eyes glittering as you smile at him. 

His lips curve up and he lets out a chuckle, pulling you close to resume his kisses, “Ok, I’ll take the blame for that one sweetheart but the next one’s are on you.” 

“Are you asking me out, Maxwell Lord the fourth?” you tease, pecking his lips gently. 

“Yes,” he pulls away looking serious again, “What do you say?” 

You throw your arms around his neck and kiss him again, “sure,” you let out breathlessly, “why the hell not?” Maybe you didn’t find your prince charming in Tom but something even better came along. 

Suddenly, the door is thrown open and a thin older woman with grey hair in an immaculate Chanel suit stalks over to you, “Who the hell is this Trollope Maxwell?!” she screeches. 

“Mother, please leave us alone,” he hisses. 

Mother? Oh fuck, what have you gotten yourself into now. 

Chapter Three: Orange Juice 

[fandom-puff]

Enough

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Requested by: anon

Prompts: “I‘m never going to be good enough for you, am I?” (49 from list 2)

Summary: you’re not a barmaid. You don’t train horses. You’re nothing compared to the other women in his life

Warnings: swearing, arguments, very brief harassment

“YN!” John’s voice rang out from the side room. “Come ‘ere, girl, come and sit with us!”

You smiled weakly at him. He always tried to include you. “A-Actually, I was just heading home,” you said softly, walking over to him, ignoring Tommy pouring out a gin for May Carleton.

“Don’t give me that bullshit. Is it Finn? D’you want us to tell him to fuck off? We know he’s off putting- oi, Finn, go play with the other kids, yeah, fuck off,”

You giggled slightly. “No... it’s not... it’s not Finn, you can sit down,” you said, and the youngest Shelby grinned at you in thanks.

Esme, johns wife appeared at the door. “You can sit with me if you like. Lord knows I need some female company while him and Arthur are playing cards,” she smirks, jabbing him in the rib with her elbow.

You smile softly and give in. “Fine,” you said. Once the door was shut, you leaned to Esme, murmuring, “you’d think you’d have plenty of female company what with Tommy bouncing between Mrs Carlton and the barmaid,”

John overheard and snorted into his whiskey and esme glared at him. She looked at you sympathetically, and said in a hushed voice once the boys were distracted by cards again, “you still love the fucker, don’t you?”

Signing, you looked down to your lap, fidgeting with your hands. “Mm-Hm,” you confirmed. “He just... he confuses me so much. He cuts it off with me after the war, saying he needs space when really he was chasing that barmaid spy... she fucks off after he has her, and he comes back to me for a quick one. I was a fool to let him, because not two weeks later it’s May Carlton this, May Carlton that,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, hating to admit that you were jealous. But underneath that, you felt vulnerable. Inadequate.

“He’s a cock, YN,” esme said, rubbing your shoulder gently.

“Who’s a cock, Es?” John asks. Nosey bastard.

Esme sighed softly. “Thomas. Flaunting the horse woman round YN. Says she was born riding, but I bet she’s only ever ridden Fillies she inherited. Never had to break one in herself,” she rolled her eyes.

John and Arthur looked at you, smiling sympathetically. “If it’s any consolation to you, YN, we prefer you over an Irish spy or some posh woman any day of the week,” Arthur said. “You were with Tom since you were sixteen, and since he er... broke things off... he’s been a right dick,”

You smiled softly. Arthur and John would’ve made such lovely brothers in law. “Thanks, boys,” you sighed. “But it’s not... it’s not that I’m mad at him for seeing other women, he can do what he wants. It’s the seeing me in between and then ignoring me. I-I know I’m no good. I know I’m boring. I know I’m useless. Just... he doesn’t seem to be arsed about how I feel, even though I care so much about him. It’s like rubbing salt into an open wound- I don’t even know why I’m talking about this to you lot of all people,” you let out a high, nervous laugh. Esme patter your back as John and Arthur each reached to squeeze one of your hands reassuringly.

“What’s going on?” Tommy asked, the door now what as he slipped into the room. May was nowhere in sight.

“Where’s your girlfriend, Thomas?” Esme spat. You were glad for her venemous tongue sometimes.

Tommy rolled his eyes and barely regarded his sister in law. “May Carlton has left small Heath to go back to her home,” he said bluntly. “To tend to my horse,”

“Even though you’ve got Curly here. He’s the best at horses,” you blurted, without really thinking.

“Yn,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “What would you know about horses?”

His words stung. He had taught you how to ride when you were 16. He’d taught you how to tell what a horse was feeling, how to calm a nervous mare, how to get a horse to behave without taking to the crop or the whip. In your letters while he was in France you always made sure to tell him how the horses in the yard were getting on, and he told you about the beautiful chestnut stallion he had seen, the dappled mare which the commander rode. “Only what you taught me,” you whispered, tears pooling in your eyes. “Only what you taught me before you went off to France. Before that fucking war and then that fucking copper ruined everything,” you pulled away from esme’s comforting pats, from John and Arthur’s sympathetic gaze, from Finn’s baffled look. You stared at tommy, taking a deep breath to say something scathing, but could only manage a small sob.

You hated yourself for it. Tommy grabbed your arms but you wriggled from his grasp. “Look, YN, calm down, love, we’ll talk-“

“Love? Love?” You hissed. “You lost your right to call me anything but my name months ago. Don’t you coddle me, Thomas Shelby, because I know exactly what you’re thinking. I‘m never going to be good enough for you, am I? I’m never going to be a pretty Irish barmaid who keeps a pistol in her handbag. I’m never going to be a prostitute you wouldn’t let your brother marry because you wanted her all to yourself. I’m never going to be some rich widow with a big house and a wealth of knowledge about horses. All I gave you, ten years of my life, my innocence, my youth... it was never good enough for you, was it?” tears were streaming down your face.

“Yn,” Tommy said.

“No,” you pushed past him. “Don’t bother,” you slammed the door to the snug. As you walked out of the pub, a man grabbed at your wrist.

“Need some cheering up, darling?” He snarled, Hans tracing your thigh.

“Get your filthy fucking hands off me before I rip your fucking balls off and shove ‘em down your own throat,” you growled, yanking your hand away from him, and storming home.

Men were the worst. All toe rags, you decided.

***

A week has passed since your argument with tommy. Each of the Shelby’s had tried reaching out to you- you were practically a sister to them for ten years before Tommy decided he’d had enough.

You sighed as the door knocked. “As much as I appreciate it Arthur,” you sighed as you took the chain off. “Im really not in the mood to spend my night drinking away my sorrows with you and John- oh. It’s you,”

You immediately looked down, not wanting to look into those blue eyes, that perfect face. That stupid, perfect face.

“YN... look,” he said slowly, carefully. The same way he would coax a nervous filly to trust him. “I’ve been... ive been a bastard, okay. I’m sorry. I still... I still love you,”

You snorted. “Explain that to everyone within a mile radius of May Carlton’s house, hmm?” You said bitterly. “Or to the horse you named ‘Grace’s Secret’”

Tommy sighed. “I know you hate me, YN... but... I love you. I haven’t stopped loving you since we were 16 in my uncle Charlie’s Yard, hiding from your dad. When we used to sit by the cut eating those pretty little cakes you used to make. I used to give you the strawberry off the top of mine, so long as you gave me some of your buttercream. We wrote to eachother every week while I was in France, sometimes twice, three times, even. I still have those letters, YN. You used to put a spritz of your perfume in each one and do a little kiss in all your different lipsticks so it was like you were hugging and kissing me all those miles away,”

As he spoke, he was slowly backing you into your living room, until you were both sitting down. “I didn’t bring you flowers, because I know you only really like them in the spring and summer, because they wilt too fast and look too sad in the autumn and winter. And if it was spring, I would’ve gotten you roses or violets or pansies, because I know lilies and chrysanthemums make you sneeze,” a fresh round of tears slipped out of your shut eyes. You couldn’t bare to look at him under his intense gaze- you knew you’d break down after just a second.

“Tommy,” you whispered softly. It was the first time you’d called him by his nickname in over a year

“I know that you can’t sleep without snuggling into something- blankets normally- but... it used to be me, and I miss it so much, YN,” he said the last part in a soft, quiet voice.

You let out a soft cry, moving to his side, allowing him to engulf you in his arms and hold you tight, the way he held you the night before he went off to war. You cried into his chest, and we’re sure he was crying into your hair for more than an hour, finding long lost comfort in one another’s arms, the way they slotted so well together despite so long apart.

“I want this to work Tommy,” you eventually whispered. “I want it to be how it was,” you felt him not his head.

“No more secrets, YN. No more women. Only you. The only woman I’ve ever truly loved,”

You sighed softly and nodded, snuggling into him the way he pointed out you did. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed, you look like you haven’t slept in days,” he said guiltily, picking you up and carrying you upstairs. As he was tucking you in, you grabbed his hand, eyes suddenly alert.

“Don’t leave me again,” you whispered, squeezibv his hand. He squeezed back, before kicking off his shoes and taking off his belt, sliding into bed behind you, cuddling you close the way you did all those years ago. It seemed the most natural thing to do, and he almost sighed with relief when you snuggled close. He kissed the top of your head gently.

“Never, YN... never again,”

Tag list: @the-makingsofgreatness @peakyswritings @haphazardhufflepuff @diksy1112 @zodiyack @soleil-dor @hiddensapphic @fckingpeakyblinders @snugleo @alittlebirds @satanxklaus @glamsaturn @thegirlwithoutaname87 @queenofmankind @awkwardretro

[vintagedolan]

mixtape - track eleven

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

I was hiding from myself too. I was hiding from the part of my brain that was like ‘what are you gonna do now?’. Like, there’s a part of your brain that does thrive off of feeling like shit.

The voice shifted, just for a moment. 

Yea-

It was a tiny sound in the back, from behind the camera. It didn’t even form a full word before Ethan continued talking, but Indy flinched anyway. It was always worse when she was unprepared for it. 

In her distraction, she’d streaked her concealer too far past her eye and sighed, using her finger to pat it in, ignoring the way it splotched. It probably wasn’t the right shade, and it was definitely expired, but it was enough for her to look like maybe she had slept in the last two weeks. 

She hadn’t. Not really. Every time she closed her eyes, even to blink, he was there. Sometimes, she welcomed it. But in that moment, standing in her mirror in her scrubs, she didn’t want to see his face. She didn’t want to hear his voice. Because she had to keep it together for 16 hours. 12 hours at the hospital on the peds floor, and another 4 at her shift at Jet’s afterward. So she kept her eyes open, took a deep breath, and walked out of her bathroom.

On the other side of the country, Grayson’s eyes were closed.

He wasn’t sleeping. It was 4 in the afternoon, which was the earliest time he could consider himself done with work for the day and escape to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. It only got down to the high forties in LA, even in January, but he climbed under his comforter anyways, pulled his baby blanket up by his face. 

Time seemed to crawl by while he lay there alone. He rolled to his side, pulling his pillow down to wrap his arms around it, and when he opened his eyes, he wished he hadn’t. On his nightstand, turned towards him, was the frame that Indy had gotten him for Christmas. He wished she hadn’t curled up so much when he’d taken it. He wished he could see her face more in the glossy material, wished she had given him a picture of just her instead. When he squeezed his eyes shut again he could see her face better, every feature committed to memory. So he looked. He focused on the different shades of blue in her eyes and pretended like she was in class, and that he was on her couch waiting for her to come home. 

A knock sounded on his door, and his heart tightened. 

Ethan stepped in the room with a bag of Monty’s and a hopeful smile. 

Grayson didn’t move.

“I brought you dinner.”

Nothing.

Ethan sighed, dropping the act. He was giving up on it earlier and earlier these days.

“Bro, you’ve gotta eat. You didn’t eat lunch.”

“Not hungry.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, tough shit then, cause I’m not leaving you alone until you eat at least some of this.” 

Grayson knew his brother, better than he knew himself sometimes, and he could tell by his tone that he was serious. He didn’t have the energy for a fight, and despite himself, his stomach growled at the smell of the fries in the bag, salty and warm. So he sat up begrudgingly and let Ethan pass him the bag, pretending not to see how his shoulders slumped in relief. 

He didn’t have to ask why Ethan stayed. It was to make sure he didn’t sit the bag down as soon as he closed the door behind him. So he waited, and he watched his brother eat his burger slower than usual, fighting to chew it and force it down.

“Where’s yours?” He asked eventually - he knew better than to think that Ethan hadn’t gotten himself a burger. 

“I uh… I ate with Eden.”

Grayson stopped chewing. His question was blatant in his eyes, and he waited for the answer.

“No, I didn’t fucking tell her,” Ethan grumbled, running his hand over his face. “But I don’t know how much longer I can do this, I feel like I’m fucking lying to her.”

“Did she ask about… her?” He caught himself. He hadn’t said her name since they left New York. 

“Not yet. She knows something is up with you though, and if she starts asking questions I’m telling her.”

“No.” It wasn’t a plea. It was a demand. 

“Grayson. She’s gonna find out eventually, I gotta tell her.”

“No. Twin code.”

“Don’t pull that shit man, c’mon, we aren’t six anymore. That’s my wife, and she’s gonna be pissed as fuck at me. If you don’t tell her, I’m gonna have to.”

Grayson stayed quiet and put the rest of his burger back in the bag, his small appetite fading to nausea at the thought of having to admit to anyone else what he had done. He hadn’t had to explain it yet - Ethan knew enough to put the pieces together, and he had enough heart to stay quiet on the plane, just passing over his napkin from his drink as an extra tissue while Grayson looked out the window and cried quietly. But he wasn’t going to tell Eden - he wasn’t ready for that.

Ethan sighed. “I’m just saying Gray, she’s gonna start asking me questions, and I’m not gonna lie to her, that’s not me. That’s not either of us.” He paused, hoping for a response he knew he wasn’t going to get. “Whatever. We have a meeting at 10 tomorrow.”

Ethan left the room in silence, and Grayson closed his eyes.

Indy’s struggled to keep hers open. It was almost 4 am the worst hours of her shift. She poured another cup of coffee from the nurses’ lounge, ignoring the fact that it was burnt as she sipped it down and willed herself to wake up. Part of her wished it was iced - warm drinks made her sleepy, and worse, reminded her of cold New Jersey mornings that she couldn’t afford to think of. Just the idea of reminiscing made her chest tighten enough for her to suck in a breath and start to search for a distraction. She read the schedule instead, checking to see what tech would replace her come 7 am. She still had two vital checks to do on each patient, opting to do them on the even hours. Her head tipped back as she drained the rest of her cup and tossed it in the trash, needing to keep her mind busy.

It wasn’t her job - only nurses could distribute meds, but she could prep the trays for the kids to make their lives easier. So she moved to the med cart and started to look through. 

“Adams, Adrian, Bellon, Campbell, Cortez, Jenkins, Kimp, Lopez, Mullins, Norton.” Her fingers stopped for a moment as she traced down the last names on the cart, mumbling them out. No Newcomb. She double-checked. Nothing.

Bekah didn’t have a tray. 

Indy’s heart sped up a bit, and she waited until she saw Ayria, one of the night shift nurses, coming out of a room.

“Hey, do you need me to get Newcomb a tray? Hers isn’t on here.” It felt weird to refer to Bekah by her last name, but she didn’t want to seem unprofessional.

Ayria frowned, coming to log into the computer on the med cart and check the charts. 

“Oh yeah, everything she’s getting is IV right now, no pills.”

Indy took a breath and steadied herself, glad to see that the clock had turned and she was able to make her rounds. She’d become an expert at taking vitals without waking the kids up - even some of the more seasoned nurses were impressed.

But she could never get past Beks.

The first day, during Indy’s orientation, Bekah could tell something was wrong. It was only three days after Grayson had left after all. Indiana knew that the floor needed a tech, and she knew they’d take her as soon as she asked. She also knew that if she let herself stay at home that she’d never leave it again. So she went and bought the cheapest scrubs she could find and mustered up enough energy to show up. 

She didn’t really need Ayria to show her around that day. She knew the unit inside and out from her time as a volunteer; she just needed the codes for the supply rooms and a list of her tasks for her 12-hour shift. But she was glad that they were together when they went into Bekah’s room because Bekah was kind enough not to say anything with someone else there. Now, she didn’t hold back.

“You look like shit,” she said as soon as Indy walked in.

“It’s 4 am, you should be asleep,” Indy countered with a smirk. The incident on Christmas was forgiven without a second thought, and she was relieved to be back to their normal banter as she put her blood pressure cuff on. 

“You should be asleep. This is your last shift of the week though.”

“Says who?”

“You’ve been here three days already, that’s the max you can work without overtime.” 

Indy kept quiet and wrote down her blood pressure in the chart. 

“Are you okay?” Bekah asked quietly, and Indy sucked in a deep breath, trying to stop the tears flooding her eyes.

“I’m fine Beks. Promise.”

Bekah contemplated if she should say it.

“Is it Grayson?”

Indy’s breath caught in her throat. Her hands shook as she held up the thermometer, and she had to blink hard to be able to read the numbers and scribble them down. 

Bekah took her silence as an answer. 

“Sorry. I know it must be hard, having him so far away,” she murmured. Indy couldn’t find her voice to tell her that it was okay. She fiddled with her blankets, tucking her in nicely and dimming her lights down to give her time to clear the knot in her throat.

“Get some sleep Beks.”

She held it together until she got outside her room, and then the tears escaped. As quickly as she could, she ducked her head and beelined for the nurses’ desk, using her oldest trick of drinking water to keep herself from fully breaking down. 

Valentina sat at her desk and watched with a frown, but she didn’t say anything. 

Indy gave herself one minute, and then she took a deep breath and got back to work. 

Time crawled, and she cursed herself for not leaving enough things to keep her busy for the rest of her shift. By 6 am, she’d resorted to cleaning the tables in the break room and reorganizing supplies in the supply closet to keep herself occupied. She knew the day shift nurses would appreciate the extra effort - they always sung her praises, thrilled to work a shift after her considering how well she set it up for them. 

Valentina came into the supply closet at 6:30.

“You might just work our daytime tech out of a job,” she said, making Indy jump and drop the bandages she was restocking.

“You scared me,” she said, catching her breath. “Just restocking.”

“You work too hard,” Valentina shook her head, crossing her arms. “You’re gonna burn yourself out sweetheart, and we need you around here.”

“I’ll be alright.”

“You act like I don’t know you’re going to your other job right after this.”

“They give me good coffee there, what can I say,” Indy teased, but when she looked Valentina’s eyes were sad. “I like to keep busy.” 

“Too busy,” she tsked. “You leave at 6:50 today.”

“Valentina-”

“Keep talking and I’ll make it 6:40,” she threatened. “And you get some sleep later, you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” Indy conceded, knowing it wasn’t an argument she could win. Nurses weren’t the type to lose an argument, and she’d never met a more nurse-y nurse than Valentina. She finished stocking quickly, gathering her bags and double-checking she’d finished everything before she headed out, waving goodbye to the nurses she saw. 

She was distracted on her way out, and she didn’t think when she hit the button to get into the next hallway. 

For two weeks, she prepped. Mentally paused and thought of all the things that could hit her out of the blue, make her come unraveled. She was ready, for the couples in the street holding hands, for the husbands coming to walk their wives home from work, the high schoolers on hot chocolate dates in the big city. But it was always the small things that got her. 

She hadn’t prepared herself, and her eyes automatically went to the walls when she cleared the doors. The ocean mural. The jellyfish, the sea turtle on the wall that Grayson had said looked like Ethan once. It hit her like a ton of bricks, her chest so tight that she reached up to press on it as she heard his voice in her head. It made her feel pathetic, the way she had to stop and grab onto the rail in the hall and steady herself for a moment. She counted her breaths, trying her hardest to shut her mind off, staring at the blue of the walls as she willed herself to be okay, just for another day.

Grayson was staring at the water. Or at least, he was trying to. The moon wasn’t very bright, but it reflected enough off the ocean for him to get a sense of which way the sun would come up. The whole surface was washed black by the night sky, and it was peaceful. He wanted to swim in it. He wanted to sink beneath it and find that blissful quiet you could only find underwater. 

He’d fallen asleep soon after Ethan had left him alone, which meant he found himself wide awake at 4 am, body tired of being asleep. Sitting in bed would only make things worse, so he sent Ethan a quick text and headed off in the Porsche towards the secret beach. There was no one else there so early in the morning, and he was grateful. It gave him the peace of mind to curl in on himself, let the tears flow freely as the waves lapped at the shore, returning over and over. 

Time ran away from him in the dark. His tears ceased eventually, dried themselves out as he sat in his misery. He didn’t fight it. Instead, he let it wash over him, sink into every pore and weigh him down, wishing he could somehow disappear into the sand as the sun started to rise and wash the world in light orange. His phone buzzed, no doubt a text from his brother. He elected to ignore it, keeping his eyes on the water, counting the waves as they came in. It was admirable, the dedication they showed; returning every time they got sucked back out. 

At some point, he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and he sighed, pulling his hood up over his head in a feeble attempt to hide himself from whoever was watching him. He stood up and brushed the sand off himself, ducking his head down and jogging straight back to his car, hoping whoever it was wasn’t trying to come up to him. 

As soon as he ducked into his car and pulled the door shut, he sunk down, resting his forehead against his steering wheel. 

“Fuck!” He yelled, smacking his dashboard. His radio turned on with a jolt, connected to his phone and automatically starting his playlist. Cudi blared through the speakers and he groaned, hitting all the wrong buttons in an attempt to get it to turn off.

“Stop, fucking stop!” In a last attempt he chucked his phone across the car, watched it ricochet off the dash and down into the floorboard. He threw his car into reverse with blurry eyes, desperate to get away from anyone who might have a camera. He was paranoid the whole drive home that someone was watching, eyes darting to the windows of any car he ended up next to at a stoplight. It wasn’t until he got the gate closed behind him and he was in the house that he felt like he could breathe again. With Ethan still asleep down the hall, he choked back his sobs as he sat down at the counter, face in his hands. 

Indy was taking deep breaths behind the counter as the line started to pile up at Jet’s. She looked to her right, frowning at the stress on her new coworker, Mariposa’s, face as the cups continued to line up next to her. 

“Hey Posie,” she called over between customers. “Do you wanna switch?”

“God yes,” she exclaimed, rushing to take Indy’s place at the register so she could move over to the bar. 

Indiana preferred it that way. She didn’t have to smile for a latte, she just had to pour it and try not to burn her fingers and move on to the next. It had come back like second nature to her, and she liked the fast pace. It gave less time for her to think, and she welcomed the numbing repetition. She kept an ear piqued towards the register, listening to the orders coming in so she could get ahead. The next one came from a taller man, his face hidden behind a coat.

“Just give me the biggest cup of the strongest stuff you’ve got.”

Indy dropped her cup, a half poured latte splattering all over her hands first, down her apron, then the bottom of her jeans and onto her shoes. It only took one look over at the man to realize it wasn’t Grayson, and she deflated. 

“Shit,” she hissed, flicking her hands in an attempt to chill the burn that was already searing on her skin. She side-stepped to the sink, flipping the cold water on and letting it flow over her hands. It stung even more, and she sighed at the bright red of her skin. She’d had enough burns from her time as a barista to know that it would blister. 

“Indiana, you okay?” Patrick called from the ovens, moving a line of pastries in and out.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

He frowned, but kept quiet, letting her get back into the groove of making drinks. Indy could feel him watching her, the familiar weight of a protective eye over her shoulder. At least he was kind enough to wait until her shift was over before he tried to talk to her again.

“Hey, how’s your hand?” 

Indy looked down and sighed at the sight of her red skin, resisting the urge to rub it. Instead, she moved to the first aid kit and grabbed a wrap bandage. 

“It’s been better, but I’ll survive.”

“Why don’t you take the day off tomorrow,” Patrick suggested as casually as he could. “You know, to rest your hand.”

Indy scoffed.

“It’s not gonna fall off Patrick, I’m fine.”

He sighed. “Fine, if you’re gonna make me say it then I will. You’re a hard worker, one of the best we have, but you’re exhausted. We can all see it, and you don’t need to burn yourself out like this for a minimum wage job. So, you’re off tomorrow. No exceptions.”

“But-”

“No. Exceptions.” 

Her anger bubbled up in her like the blister forming on her thumb, but she knew it wasn’t Patrick’s fault. He was right - she was just upset at the idea of having an entire day with nothing to distract her. An empty apartment had never seemed so daunting, and it was all she could think about as she clocked out, got her things together, and walked home.

It was quieter than she’d imagined when she got through the door, the click of the latch echoing through the still space. She thought of turning on music, but that only made her think of Grayson, singing off-key next to her in the truck. She could put on a movie, but it would make her think of cuddling with him on the couch. Her bed was where he had been so many nights. He’d cooked in her kitchen, he’d helped her move furniture in the guest room. 

She couldn’t escape him, no matter where she went. And so, as pathetic as she felt doing it, she sunk down right there on the floor, and she let the misery have her. It came in broken sobs that caught on her throat on the way out, too loud even for her own ears as she tried to imagine a day where she didn’t feel like the world was crumbling around her. 

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there. But eventually, the things no one ever talked about started to happen. Her butt went numb, and her head started to hurt, and her lips got dry from the saltwater that ran over them. None of that mattered though. What finally got her up from the cold floor was the fact that she was sticky - remnants of the vanilla syrup in the latte that she’d dropped finally congealing and making her feel more disgusting than the tears. She peeled herself up off the floor and headed to her bathroom.

Grayson was in the shower, with his head down, water splashing over his back and bouncing off his shoulders - a statue in the rain. It was the best place to avoid getting on his phone, considering he couldn’t, and that was the only way he could trust himself to not get on twitter and see the aftermath of the morning.

He wondered for a moment what he looked like from outside the glass shower door, standing there with his razor up by his chest. The blades clogged with the long hairs he shaved from his chest, leaving him bare and smoother than he’d been in months. He sat the razor down and moved to pick up a clear bottle from the shelf. Polis was scribbled on it in sharpie in Ethan’s handwriting, remnants of a Wakeheart meeting. Grayson could remember how excited he was to pitch the idea, even if it was over zoom. 

“I finally came up with the third body wash scent. Vanilla, with a hint of coffee and then a little bit of sandalwood to keep it professional and put together.” 

He’d had to whisper it - Indy was asleep in her room, the product of a good post study-session back rub that had lulled her into a much-needed nap. The team loved it, thought it complimented the other two scents they’d been testing well. Ethan was hesitant, but he kept his mouth shut and brainstormed a backup if needed.

Grayson was thankful for the gesture, even when he’d told him that he’d started planning it as early as he had. But he wasn’t willing to give it up, and he made it very clear in their first meeting back that Polis was a permanent scent. It felt like a tiny piece of her that he could hold onto. Still, as he stood there and held the bottle up to his nose, it wasn’t the same. As pitiful as it made him feel, he tried closing his eyes, tried to imagine she was there with him, standing in front of him, giggling like she always did when they showered together. 

He couldn’t do it justice. Couldn’t feel the warmth of her skin against his, couldn’t smell her shampoo or watch her try to bend over and shave her legs in her small apartment shower without bumping into him. He’d held her hips to help her keep her balance, listened to her laugh and talk about casual intimacy, heard the way it echoed off the tiles and became his favorite sound in the entire world. 

His tears mixed with the water, his pain palpable as he started to quiver just barely, the memory enough to break down the paper thin wall he’d managed to drag back up to protect himself. When his knees shook he gave up and sunk to the ground, green tiles of the bench seat icy against his back as he buried his face in his hands. He’d never felt weaker in his life, and he wished he was ten again, so his dad could wrap his strong arm around his shoulder and tell him that everything would be alright. 

He went for the next best thing once he managed to get enough energy to get up and turn the water off. A few swipes of his towel over his body and hair, then he pulled his boxers on and put on his robe, walking straight out of his room and down the hall.

Ethan’s door was open, but he wasn’t in his bed like Gray expected. He was at his desk instead, a look of stress on his face that Grayson was all too familiar with. A pang of guilt resonated in him when he realized what his brother was doing - picking up all the slack that he was leaving in his misery. 

He hadn’t said a word about it though, and that made it worse.

It took Ethan a moment to realize his brother was there, but as soon as he did he turned his desk chair, giving him his full attention.

“Hey.”

Grayson didn’t answer.

“You okay?” Ethan tried again. Grayson’s throat burned, and he shook his head, sitting on the end of the bed. He’d never been able to hide from Ethan, and luckily, he never really had to. Because Ethan was the type of brother to act tough when he needed to, but soften up at the smallest things. Which was why Grayson wasn’t surprised to see his brother rise up out of his chair, coming to sit next to him. The bed sunk down a bit with his weight, and Grayson let himself press up against his brother. The air felt heavy while he waited.

“You’re good. Just let it out.” Ethan’s voice was quiet, and he leaned his cheek against his brother’s head and felt him go to pieces. It was the hardest Grayson had cried since the airport, and every sniffle made his head pound but he couldn’t pull himself together. Those were the kind of moments where he wondered how people survived without twin brothers. He felt safe there with Ethan - if everything else fell apart, at least he’d have him. There were a million things he could say, but he already knew what the answers would be. Ethan would tell him that he’d find someone else some day, and that Indy would heal and that he shouldn’t feel guilty for doing what he did. He also knew that Ethan would say all of it even if he didn’t believe it, because their pain was shared.

Grayson cried himself out again after an hour or so, his sinuses pounding behind his eyes as the headache settled in. 

Ethan stayed still - he knew better than to leave him. It wasn’t until Grayson finally wiped at his eyes that his brother relaxed a bit, watched him stand up and run his hands over his face. It felt colder without Ethan right next to him, but he knew he needed to sleep. 

“Try to get some sleep,” Ethan echoed his thoughts. “We need to record the pod tonight if you can.”

“Okay. I can help with the emails, I know we probably have a shit ton.”

Ethan was already shaking his head before he finished.

“Just get some sleep, okay?”

Grayson nodded and gave him the best smile he could manage before he went back into his room, climbing back into the safety of his covers with his phone in his hand, just in case she called.

Indy’s pillow was wet. It was mainly from her hair soaking into the pillowcase - she didn’t have the energy to dry it after her shower. But she’d also made a terrible mistake. One scroll through the app store and a quick log in and she was back onto instagram, ignoring the now thousands of follow requests she had in her notifications. It only took one click to her explore page and her tears were adding to the moisture below her cheek. 

He had on his Cudi hoodie, the yellow one. She wished she’d been there to tell him not to wear it. It was too bright, a target for the cameras that seemed to find him. The first ones she saw stung. They were only of his back, taken from far enough away that she could pretend it was someone else. But she knew the way he sat, with his arms over his knees. 

The next ones hurt, because she could see his face. He was walking, and she knew him well enough to know he’d realized what was happening and tried to leave, just from his posture, the way he slumped while walking. His eyes were red, those dark circles that she’d ran her fingers over so many times worse than she’d ever seen them. Ever since he’d left, she’d wanted to know how he felt. If he missed her at all, if he was as miserable as she seemed to be every minute of every day.

It hurt worse to get her answer than it did to wonder. She’d hoped he was upset, but suddenly all she wanted to do was hold him, tell him it was okay, that she was okay even though she wasn’t. It was impossible not to scroll, looking for anything new, any hints as to what he had been up to since he’d gotten off that plane. 

She had never asked for a front row seat to his life, but she’d take it if it was the only glimpse of him that she could get. It made her feel pathetic, but she didn’t care enough to fight it.

Eventually, she found herself scrolling his page. She couldn’t tell how she got there, but she couldn’t seem to leave it either. So she just scrolled, averting her eyes from any comments, and pretending, just for a moment, that everything was back to the way it was. That he was just busy recording a podcast, or that he’d be sprawled out on her couch when she went out to the living room. 

She held onto it until she walked out of her room, knowing she needed to eat even though she didn’t want to. She kept her eyes off the couch, moving to her cabinets that were barren apart from a few avocados that were rotten. With a sigh she threw them in the trash that was close to overflowing, opting instead for the last box of mac and cheese she had left. 

Indy was thankful for muscle memory, her mind wandering off to better days where her kitchen wasn’t so quiet as she cooked the pasta she really didn’t want and took it back to her room, curling up under her covers as she ate.

Grayson had two empty boxes of vegan mac and cheese in front of him, one of which obviously had an ‘E’ scribbled on it that he’d ignored when he made them. He shoveled the noodles into his mouth, ignoring the way they burnt his tongue just barely. Ethan walked in and saw the boxes, opened his mouth and shut it again. 

“S’pod setup?” Grayson said around a mouthful.

“Yeah, I set up the pod, we’re good whenever you’re ready.”

“Gimminute.”

Ethan just chuckled and shook his head, happy to at least see his brother eating even if he was shoveling it down like he hadn’t seen food before. He waited, seeing that Gray was done within the next two minutes, sitting his bowl in the sink and stretching his arms out. He looked tired, but Ethan hoped the pod camera was far enough away from them to make the dark circles subtle enough. 

“Do you want some of my old concealer stuff? For under your eyes?”

Grayson hesitated for a moment, picking at his nails. “You still have it?” 

“Yeah, hang on.” Ethan ran to his bathroom, snagged the compact from his bottom drawer and brought it to the kitchen. “Come over here, you’re supposed to do it in natural light.”

He held it out for Grayson, who just looked up at him. 

“I don’t know how the fuck to do it, you do it.”

“Do I look like a makeup artist to you?” Ethan asked, and when Grayson stayed quiet, he sighed and flipped the compact open, swiping his finger through the semi-creamy substance and moving to pat it on his brother, frowning when it was more difficult than he thought it would be. “Look up you fuck, I gotta blend it.”

Grayson just rolled his eyes but did as he was told, sitting still until E said he was finished and led the way to the studio. They got settled in their chairs, double checking the camera angles. Ethan cleared his throat, waiting until his brother looked at him. 

“Are we… do you want to mention anything about…”

Grayson waited. He wondered if his brother was really going to be dumb enough to ask.

“Are we talking about the pictures, yes or no.”

“What the fuck do you think the answer to that is,” Gray grumbled.

“I’m just saying, if you mention it you can say what you want about it, get your own voice out there. Whatever you say, I’ll go along with it.”

“Great.”

Grayson took a deep breath, gave Ethan a look that read as an apology, and clicked the button to start recording. He stayed fairly quiet the first few minutes of the recording, waiting to jump into a conversation that didn’t make his throat tight. The podcast was his favorite place, because he could let himself actually speak, say what he wanted to say without worrying. 

It came back to bite him in the ass 45 minutes into the episode, when his guard was down and he had finally lost himself the way he did when he worked. They were talking about birds, and how they had a bad, unjustified rep. 

“I mean, Gizmo can be an asshole sometimes, but she’s only an asshole when people are like, scared of her,” Ethan mused. 

“Right! She gets all shy when I come home after a while, but when Dee came in the house the first time she was freaking out, just from hearing her and I swear, every time after that Giz just like, screamed every single time she was even in the house.”

“Gray-”

“No seriously! You remember how loud she got? Fuck, remember that time she went down to help mom with dessert and Giz was out and she cried?”

“Grayson.”

“What? Did I peak the mic?”

Ethan’s eyes were sad. “You… you said her name.”

“Huh?”

“Indiana. You said Dee, when you were telling that story.”

He swallowed hard. “Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He could see him spiraling, and he tried to reel him back in. “You’re okay. We can just cut it, and start again with a story about Gizmo.” 

“Yeah uh… just give me a second.”

“Sure. Whatever you need.”

“Just, uh, say what you said again before,” Grayson murmured, shaking his head to try and clear it. But it was too late - he was so consumed by what his mind had brought back to the surface that he could barely hear Ethan repeat his words.

“Yeah-” Grayson came in a moment late. “Giz is a special one.”

Ethan waited for him to continue, but jumped in when he didn’t. “She gets shy when you haven’t been home in a while and you show up. That’s the thing about animals dude, like people think about cats and dogs and they can recognize their emotions, but with stuff like birds and cows and shit, people just don’t think about them that way, and it fucking sucks. They have feelings too! Gizmo’s fucking sassy bro, she will let you know how she’s feeling, especially if she’s pissed. Bro, we should have Giz on the pod, do you think she’d talk? She can whistle, we could show off her tricks.”

“You can’t put a bird on a plane,” Grayson mumbled. His eyes were fixed down on the blue center of the table, and he was fidgeting with his sleeves.

“Yeah, but we can put the mics in our suitcases and just record at home.”

Ethan realized it a moment too late. He wanted to snatch his words out of the air, scratch them from the tape when he saw the way Grayson’s eyes met his, saw the gloss near his waterline. 

“Yeah - uh - um,” Grayson tried to save it, and then he covered his mouth, silencing the squeak that turned into a sob. He pretended it was a cough, bringing his hand up and running his fingers over his forehead, shielding his eyes from the camera.

“I uh, I miss home a lot more this time than I usually do,” he said, his voice froggy with the tightness of his throat. Ethan couldn’t say anything. There was nothing to say as he watched his brother fight and lose in his battle to keep his composure, covering his mouth as he cried, knuckles brushing up against the mic.

“Fuck, sorry, I’m sorry E.”

“It’s okay, hey, it’s okay.” Ethan was up so fast he forgot to take off his headphones. They fell back into the chair when they pulled off his ears as he moved to his brother, pulling him up into a hug. “We can finish it later, we’ll just cut to an ad or something. It’s okay.”

“Sorry.”

“Shh. It’s fine bro, it’s fine. C’mon, let’s go get some air.” 

Air wasn’t what they found.

Instead, they found Eden, standing against the counter with her arms crossed in a way that had Ethan’s blood running cold. He thought the sight of Grayson practically curled in on himself might have softened her up, but she stood her ground until both of the twins were looking at her. 

Grayson knew that she knew, and she only confirmed it when she spoke.

“What. The fuck. Is wrong with you.” 

Back in New York, Indy’s phone was ringing. Or at least, she thought it was. But when she unlocked it and was blinded by the light, it was just her lockscreen, Grayson smiling at her with 3:04 written across the top. Judging by the darkness, she knew she hadn’t slept the afternoon away, but the buzzing continued until she finally climbed out of bed and realized it was the intercom system - the front desk calling her through the small phone on her wall that hardly ever rang. She pulled it off the receiver and held it up to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi Ms. Cross, there’s a gentleman here to see you.”

Her heart skipped, and she clutched the phone with both her hands.

“Who?”

There was a beat of silence, and Indy could vaguely hear her ask him for a name. 

“His name is Devin.” 

She sucked in a breath, letting her head and her hopes fall. 

“Send him up.” 

It took her a moment to process her grief before the panic set in. If Devin was showing up unannounced, something bad must have happened. She swung her door open, chewing on her nails as she stood in the doorway, waiting for him to appear. He came out of the elevator with a small duffle slung over his shoulder and a cautious smile that had her ready to cry.

“Dev, what the hell are you doing here? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Charlie?”

“Also fine. We’re fine.”

She caught her breath, and then she was frowning. “If everything is fine, why the fuck are you here at 3am?”

“Because you haven’t answered your sister’s calls in a week, and she’s worried sick about you.”

Guilt panged in her stomach - she hadn’t meant to ignore her. In all honesty, she’d ignored everyone without realizing it. 

“I- sorry, I didn’t mean to. Just slipped my mind. Is she here too?”

“She’s got a wedding to shoot this weekend, and we only had one ticket anyways. Flight got delayed, tried to find a hotel for the night so I could wait until later this morning but I couldn’t find one so you’re stuck with me. Sorry,” he teased, reaching out to hold onto her shoulder. There was no malice in his voice, and Indy was grateful. “Let’s go inside.” 

He didn’t ask for it, but she made him a coffee anyways alongside her own. She was tired, her eyes burning, but it wasn’t anything new from the last few weeks. She fought it, pulling one of the few sweatshirts Grayson had left at her place over her head before she sat on the couch, waiting.

Devin was quiet, tapping his fingers against his mug, out of his element. 

“Dev.”

“Hmm?”

“You didn’t fly to New York to drink coffee with me. Talk.”

He sighed, sitting his mug down on the coffee table and turning towards her.

“Inds, we’re worried about you.” 

Indy scoffed, a short, automatic sound. 

“I’m fine.”

“No, you aren’t. You really, really aren’t. You’re running yourself into the ground for no good reason.” 

“I’m trying to pay rent,” she countered, but even she knew it wasn’t true.

“Your hospital job pays more than rent. Jet’s is just because you’re scared to let your mind rest.”

Indy didn’t have an answer, so she sipped her coffee instead, cursing herself for telling Charlie everything in a moment of weakness. The silence was loud, and Devin sighed to break it after far too long.

“Have you talked to him? Since?”

Her throat was tight. “No.”

Devin wrung his hands together. “You do know it was fucked up what he did, right?”

“Dev-”

“I’m just making sure you know that. You can still make your own decision on however you wanna navigate it in the future, but you have to acknowledge that what he did was a new level of shitty. And he’s a good guy, I really do think he is, but he fucked you over, and you’re my family. And I protect my family. So I just need you to know that you didn’t deserve what he did to you, and he fucked up. Big time.” 

“Right.”

“Okay, good.”

She let him believe it, though she’d only said it to appease him. She wondered if he would feel differently, if he had seen. If he had felt, the way that Grayson had shook in her arms, the way his sobs seemed to be ripping him apart every moment that he was hurting her. She wanted to pull up her phone, show him the pictures from the beach, show him that he was hurting too, that he didn’t want to hurt her. She wanted to prove it to him.

“When does your semester start?” He asked, pulling her mind off of it. She swallowed hard, then took another drink of coffee. 

Indiana had spent three days in self pity when she got back from the airport. She let the misery have her fully - didn’t change her clothes, barely ate, hardly left her bedroom. And then, after that, she picked herself up and got to work. She applied for her tech job and called Patrick to see if she could get the schedules to align, and more importantly, she’d started to run numbers. 

Medical school. Just the application fees alone were going to hit her budget hard, so much so that she reduced it down to two. JCU, and UCLA. 

Her applications had gotten accepted three days prior, along with an email about a scholarship she was eligible for at UCLA that made it comparable to JCU’s tuition. But the money wasn’t the issue, and when it was time to accept, she knew that UCLA wouldn’t hold her spot forever.

She’d taken a deep breath, and emailed the registrar. 

“I deferred.”

She was embarrassed to say it outloud, and for some reason it was the brick of the dam that fell, and her tears began to flow. She felt Devin’s hand on her shoulder before he spoke.

“Good.”

She hadn’t expected him to be mean - in fact, the meanest thing she’d ever heard him say was what he’d just said about Grayson. But it still shocked her enough to have her frowning.

“Good?”

“Indy. Do you realize how long you’ve been a student? Do you know who you are outside of being one?”

“I-”

“You’re the smartest person I know, and I love you, but I think you need to take a step back and really look at what you’re doing. Take a semester, fuck, take a year. Live. Breathe. You’re already ahead, and you’ll still be ahead.”

“I’m not worried about being ahead, Dev,” she whispered, running her hands over her face.

“Then what are you worried about?” There was a sincerness in his voice, and a gentleness in the way he held her hand that made her cry even harder.

“I just don’t know what the fuck to do anymore,” she blubbered, grateful when he pulled her over to his chest in a hug. He let her cry it out for a while, waiting until she was calm enough to hear him.

“I don’t have the answer to that, but I say, ask yourself what you really want the rest of your life to look like, and then do whatever you have to to get there. If it’s being a doctor, great. If it’s not, great. Just as long as it’s what you want.”

She took a shaky breath in, and blew it out through her lips, simply giving him a nod.

The problem was, she knew exactly what she wanted - and he was off in Los Angeles, cowering behind his brother.

“Baby, woah, hey, take it easy,” Ethan cautioned, side stepping into the war path she’d outlined, headed straight for Grayson. Her eyes were fire when she looked at her boyfriend and raised an eyebrow.

“He’s having a rough night, just take it easy,” he added.

He stoked the flames.

“You know who else is probably having a rough fucking night? Indiana. And we are gonna talk later-” she poked a finger into Ethan’s chest - “but right now, I’m not talking to you so I suggest you get out of my way.” 

There was a bite in her tone that had Ethan rocking back on his heels, questioning just how far his duties as protective brother would go. He breathed out a sigh when he felt Grayson’s hand on his shoulder.

“It’s fine E.” 

He’d never admit it, but Grayson had been waiting. Ever since he pulled away on New Year’s, he had waited for the punishment. The anger, the disbelief, the spite that he thought would arise in Indiana at the realization of what he’d done. 

It wasn’t until he got off the plane and into his room that he realized his true punishment would be the guilt, and the grief, and the realization that he’d pushed away the only future he’d ever truly known he wanted. 

The anger was a welcomed change.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? What the fuck, Grayson.”

“I know.”

“I don’t say a lot of shit about a lot of shit, but whoever you decide to be with could possibly end up as part of my family, forever, so fuck me if I’m invested, and I think I deserve an explanation on why I just got a call from Charlie to see if I’d talked to Indy, cause she’s ‘really going through it’.”

“I didn’t want to hurt her.” His eyes turned glossy, and Ethan stood up straighter.

“The fuck you didn’t,” she scoffed, running her hand through her hair to push her curls out of her face. “You realize how badly you fucked up, right? Right?”

“Yes.”

“And that you broke her heart right? Probably absolutely fucking destroyed her.”

“Eden-” Ethan spoke up.

“Yes,” Grayson answered, his chest tight. He wrapped his arms around himself, willed them to hold him together. It felt different, to have someone say it to him so directly, to confirm what he had done.  

“Then why? Just… why?”

“Long distance wouldn’t have worked, and I didn’t want -”

“Oh bullshit. No one would have tried harder than Indiana to make that work, you fucking know that.”

“She shouldn’t have to deal with that, with me being so far away -”

“God you fucking self-sacrificial fuck!” She yelled. “She loved you, you moron, and when you love someone, you give! You hit a crossroads, you sit down and have a fucking conversation, and you fucking give! That’s what a fucking real relationship looks like, not you deciding that you don’t deserve to be loved and running in the other fucking direction!” Her face was red when she stopped to catch her breath. Ethan looked just as shocked at the outburst as his brother. Her mind seemed to catch up to her ears, and she backtracked.

“Sorry, fuck, that was -”

“No, you're right. You’re right. Everything you said was fucking right,” Grayson didn’t even try to hide his tears. He blubbered into his hands, ugly choking sobs that he wasn’t sure how he even produced. Ethan was at his side immediately, arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“What do I do?” He asked, voice muffled by his hands until he finally raised his head and looked at Eden with pleading eyes, waiting for an answer she was reluctant to give.

“You let her live. Don’t text her, don’t call her. If she calls, you don’t answer. When you go home, you don’t see her. You let her let go, and move on.”

All he could do was nod, and lean into his brother.

Indy leaned against the wall. It was cold and unrelenting against her shoulder, but it held her up better than her own legs would. She’d dropped Devin off at the airport that afternoon, and found herself back on the ped’s floor, waiting. 

Valentina spotted her first from the nurses station, and the way she held her clipboard made it look like a weapon.

“My eyes better be deceiving me, cause’ I know that is not Indiana Cross standing in my hallway on her day off.” 

Indy found it in her to laugh dryly. “Relax Val, I’m here to see Beks. Haven’t gotten to visit her off the clock for a while.”

Valentina still gave her signature disapproving stare, but she gave it up with a sigh. “Well, her family is visiting too. Mom and Dad, if you wanna say hi.”

It had been a long time since she’d seen Mr. and Mrs. Newcomb. They were lovely people, and they truly did come see her as often as they could. But they also worked two jobs a piece to try to foot the medical bills, which meant often was scarce. 

Indy had never seen them in the same room before, and her stomach tightened. She was hesitant to go to Bekah’s room, scared to interrupt, but when she peaked her head around her doorway, she saw the couple sitting on the couch in the room quietly. 

Mrs. Newcomb spotted her, eyes brightening as she waved her inside. 

“Come in, come in!”

Indy was still hesitant as she walked inside, eyes darting over to a sleeping Bekah. She was curled up under her halloween blanket, brows furrowed down and skin pale. 

“Hi Indiana, how are you sweet girl?” Mrs. Newcomb asked.

“I’m good, I’m sorry to interrupt, I just thought I might stop by and check on her but I don’t want to intrude.”

“No, no you’re fine! She was actually asking about you just before she went to sleep, you and Earring, whoever that is. Hang on.”

Indy watched as she moved over to the edge of her daughter’s bed, running her thumb along her cheek until she started to stir.

“Sweetheart, Indiana is here to see you. Can you open your eyes for me?”

Bekah whined, but pulled her eyes open, smiling slightly when Indiana moved into her view.

“Hey punk,” Indy said, crouching down so she could get to her level. 

“Hey,” she whispered, voice hoarse. On instinct, Indy reached out to fix her head wrap, making Bekah’s mother smile. “What time is it?”

“6:55,” Indy answered.

“Mmm. Meds coming soon,” she mumbled. “Where’s Earrings? He doesn’t like needles, don’t let him see the needles.”

“No needles baby,” Mrs. Newcomb said. “Just some to make you feel better. You rest now.”

“Earrings,” she said again, and Indy could tell she was asking. 

“He’ll be here to see you soon,” Indy lied, rubbing over her wrap like she would her hair if it was still there. 

It didn’t click for Indiana until 7 rolled around, and Jennifer came in with a cup of pills instead of an IV pole.

Radiation and chemo don’t come in pills, Indy knew that much. 

Mrs. Newcomb watched the realization come across her face, and she gave her a sympathetic smile.

“She’s… she didn’t get her meds.”

“Indiana baby, it’s what she wants. The new round didn’t work, the stem cells failed. It’s time to let her rest. We’ll keep her comfortable, the doctor says it’ll probably be a few weeks, maybe a month.”

Indy’s throat burned, and her breathing quickened, chest rising much too fast. She couldn’t say goodbye to anyone - it took all her focus to make it out of the building, running down the stairs and across the lobby before she was dry heaving in the bushes, the sight of Bekah’s frail body in her bed appearing every time she closed her eyes.

It wasn’t a conscious decision. More of an instinct, really, that drove her to pull her phone out of her pocket and pull him up and call.

In LA, Grayson’s phone buzzed against his nightstand. A new picture of Indiana popped up - her contact photo that he’d taken one day in Jersey. With a knot in his throat and Eden’s voice in his ears, he reached over and turned it off before rolling away and letting his tears soak into the pillowcase.

[daydreamingintheimpalax]

Unexpected

Prompt: “what happened to your clothes?”  “I think i’m falling in love with you.” “I think ive always known, deep down, i think i’ve always loved you.” 

Dean x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, somewhat detailed sex scene, iunno not much really. 

A/N: Sorry it’s so long, i had this idea and thought it’d be a fun read. Enjoy :)

Dean sat on your bed, mindlessly watching and waiting as you hid in your closet, dress after dress, skirt after skirt flying out, one almost hitting him in the face. He caught it mid air before tossing it down next to him. 

“I don’t know why you’re getting so worked up, its just a few drinks at the bar, Max already knows you, you dont need to impress him, he already likes you.” Dean spoke, watching as you popped out from your closet, three different shirts in your hands.

Dean was your best friend, you had met him and Sam as a child, your fathers had been hunting partners for a few years, always leaving you and the boys at bobby’s to cause trouble for the old man. You could still hear bobby’s voice sometimes, demanding Dean stop influencing you with his schemes. 

His buddy Max had run into him at the bar last week while you guys had stopped in during a hunt and they had caught up for hours, you had connected with Max off the bat, and when he’d asked you out, you were skeptical, see deep down you always knew Dean was your guy, your never ending crush on him had turned into deeper feelings years ago, you tried to deny it for years, and definitely never told him, but when Dean had convinced you to give it a shot, go out on ONE date with a guy he knew and liked, you gave in, never being able to say no to him, i mean, to be fair you hadn’t been with a man in over 2 years and you could use a night out, maybe even some quality time in bed with a good looking guy, plus, Dean trusted him, and that was enough.

“Dean, i haven’t been out with a guy in 2 years, i’m not going out with a guy looking like a swamp monster, first dates are everything, and looking your best can make or break the date.” You huffed, holding out a shirt to him for an opinion, he shook his head, grimacing. 

“First, you never look like a swamp monster, you’re stunning no matter what, you hardly have to work at that, secondly, that’s an old ratty tshirt you stole from me, really?” He pointed at it, now realizing he was right, why the hell you were even suggesting this. It was time to pull out the big guns. You sighed, hiding back into your closet, you had to have something date worthy. 

Dean had popped away, grabbing himself a beer, giving himself a break from outfit advice. You were his best friend and he wanted nothing more than to see you happy, even if it meant trusting Max to take you out on a date. It was one date, it’s not like he was stealing you away forever. He had always had a soft spot for you, you were his first kiss as a kid and he’d looked out for you ever since, and even though he trusted Max, seeing you get all worked up over a guy that wasn’t him still didn’t settle well with him, but he shoved his feelings down and tried to be as supportive as he could. 

He walked back into your room, realizing you were finally working on your makeup, you were slightly bent over your bathroom sink, reaching closer to the mirror as you did your eyeliner, truth be told, he loved when you did that black wing thing, it enhanced your big E/C eyes and drove him nuts everytime. He looked you over, realizing what you finally had chosen to put on, a shorter than he’d like black leather mini skirt, a matching leather shirt thing that looked similar to a bra more than anything. He cleared his throat. 

“What happened to your clothes?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

You finish your eyeliner before walking past him, fetching lipstick out of your little makeup bag before making your way back to your bathroom, “What do you mean? Theyre fine.” You spoke, applying your lipstick as he piped up.

“I mean like, where’s the rest of it?” he sassed and you rolled your eyes as you walked back into the room. “It’s not that bad is it? It’s literally all i can find that isn’t covered in holes, old blood or stained monster guts.” You looked down at yourself, smoothing out your skirt. Dean cleared his throat as he eyed you properly, trying hard to calm his way out of a boner. 

“Uh, no, no i’m just teasing, you look incredible.” He smiled, nodding, you shoot him a innocent smile, “Better, Winchester. Much better, right answer.” You shoot him a small wink and he chuckles. He had come a long way on talking to women because of her, she helped him realize as a teenager and a young man that he didn’t need to be vulgar or gross to pick up women and he’d learned a long time ago thanks to her that chivarly was key.

He watched as she put on her coat, Max waiting by the door to take her out, she gave him a little wave as she told him not to wait up, she’d be fine. 

“Be safe, have fun.” He smiled as she walked out the door, his internal groan coming out of his mouth and he kicked himself for being too scared to ever make a move himself. He’d liked her since they were teenagers, but he was too stubborn to do anything, his fathers voice telling him hunter relationships never worked. 

       ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The night had been a blast so far, you and Max were having a great time chatting, dancing and enjoying each others company at the bar, he was sweet, nice and had a good view on life and hunting. He told you entertaning stories, some even involved moments he and Dean shared as young teenagers hunting together, being boys and trying to get girls, Max pranking Dean. They had a good friendship and you were happy Dean had someone besides you and Sam he could pal around with. 

You had moved to his truck a while ago, the mix of alcohol and pure need affecting you both as you made out like teenagers, the windows began steaming up, it was an unusually warm evening in lebanon and you were thankful you wore this outfit or would have soaked right through it from the heat. 

His hand moved freely on your thigh and you straddled him, his back against the backseat of his pick up with you on his lap, dry humping him like some silly teenage girl who hadn’t had sex yet, you made the first move, desperate to feel a mans touch, it had been so long. 

You yank your top off, nothing but some nipple covers to cover your exposed breasts, Max lets out a soft moan, “Beautiful,” he mumbles while he kisses softly around your skin, he slowly peels off the covers off you and his mouth lands on your nipple and you let out a louder Moan than you want to but it doesn’t seem to bother him. 

Before you know it, your both down to nothing but your underwear, you reach down and pull down his boxers, reaching a hand in and grabbing him and placing him at your entrance, you’re already so turned on you don’t need foreplay tonight, not when you’re this sexually frustrated. 

You sink down on him slowly, and you both moan out, yours comes out as more of a shout, and you begin to move, slowly at first before changing into a soft but faster bounce, he’s making sounds, you know that for fact but you’re so distracted by the feeling of pure pleasure you haven’t felt in so long you aren’t even fully aware of what’s happening, you let out a shout, and before you know what’s happening, it all suddenly just stops.

You come back to reality and notice Max has pushed you off, he’s pulling his pants back on and avoiding your eye. Oh for fuck sakes, you haven’t even came close to your release and Dean set you up with a 2 minute one pump chump. You were going to kick his ass. 

“What’s wrong? are you done already?” you ask, his looks at you, letting out an exasperated huff before licking his lips and shaking his head. “I’m sorry Y/n, i don’t think this is going to work out, besides, you shouldn’t really sleep with a guy if you’re not going to rememember his name.” He scolds, glaring at you before he shoves his shirt on and climbs out the back, you put your skirt and shirt back on, deciding to skip the panties all together.

“Hey! I do remember your name, it’s Max, i’m not stupid!” You yell at him, angry now that he would even suggest that. Max turns to you, glaring, “Oh yeah, then next time maybe you should try screaming my name out and not Dean’s, jesus christ y/n, if you want him that bad just go fuck him, i doubt he’ll say no!” He shouts and you stand frozen. 

“What? Dean?, i didn’t...I don’t-” you stutter, he cuts you off. “It’s kind of obvious y/n, you screamed his name for a reason, you obviously have lingering feelings for him, and im not going to be your pitty fuck.” He sighs, he ushers you into the passenger seat, offering to drive you home in what is the most uncomfortabe, quiet, embrassing drive home ever. 

You slam the bunker door closed, worst date ever. You make your way past Dean and Sam in the library as you try your hardest to avoid them, especially Dean, you were embarassed enough, you didn’t need to face him right now, and you sure as hell hoped Max kept his mouth shut about it too.

“Y/N? That you? “ You hear Dean call out but you avoid answering, flying past them to your room before slamming the door shut. 

Dean’s eyebrows furrow.

“I guess the date didn’t go well then.” Sam speaks out, looking over at Dean. He shrugs, before getting up and walking towards your room

He knocks on the door softly, “Y/n, you okay? did Max do something cause if he did i’ll beat the living crap outta him.” He calls out, he can hear your sniffle, he sighs, before softly opening your door. You’re cuddled up in bed, watching your favorite episode of golden girls as you cry softly. He sighs and heads over, sitting on your bed. 

“Bad date?” He asks and you shrug, “Something like that.” He gives you a soft smile. “Want to talk about it?” He asks and you shake your head. “No, i just wanna forget it.” You speak, he notices you never meet his eye. He nods and agrees to leave it alone, he joins you quietly, watching tv with you but giving you your space. When you finally fall asleep, he goes to bed himself, but not before shooting Max a text. 

“Whatever the fuck you did man, she’s upset, and if i find out you hurt her, i’ll kill you.” 

                                                      ---------

It’s two weeks later when things finally come out, you haven’t spoken to Max since that night of your date. The bar is busier than usual, a few more college kids then there usually is but it is spring break, most of them are probably home for the much needed time away from school work. 

Dean is at the pool tables, hussling some airhead jock out of pool money. You watch and laugh when he heads over to you, cash in hand. 

“Ha ha, stupid brainless jocks. Always so much fun seeing how much of daddy’s money i can get out of them.” He chuckles, setting the money back in his pocket. You roll your eyes but smile. Why did you put up with this dork. 

Before you know it, someone is calling out for Dean. “Yo, Dean!” You both turn to spot Max, waving Dean over for a game. You swallow, nervous that the details of your date will come out, you still weren’t fully over it, and you dreaded Dean ever finding out, he’d never let you live it down and he really didn’t need a bigger ego. Luckily Max hadn’t noticed you yet. 

Dean motions he’ll play one round and be right back and you try to give him a smile, dreading this inside. Just don’t ask him about the date, you interally tell him, even though he’s long gone and can’t hear it. 

You sip your drink, asking for another one and you try to keep your cool at those two being in the same room all of a sudden. 

                                                      -----------

One game had turned into 4 and before you knew it, the two guys had captured a crowd, some betting on Max and some on Dean. It was becoming a friendly competition between the two boys. 

“Aw come on Max, don’t be a sore loser, i’m sure you can come back from that.” Dean teases, watching as Max lines up his next shot. 

“Easy for you to say Winchester, tell me, do you ever get sick of being a pompous prick?” Max winks at him and Dean smiles, “Eh, Sometimes, but then i remember how fun it is to watch you lose and its all worth it.” Dean chuckles, Max suddenly isn’t in a joking mood and he shoots, it goes in, he gets a few more and Dean’s actually surprised. 

“Not bad, man. You’re getting better.” Dean smirks, “Still no match for me though, i always win.” Dean leans in, takes a shot and gets his last three balls in, He lines up with the 8 ball, looks up at Max, and smirks, then his eyes find you, sitting behind Max a few tables down and he shoots you a wink, before sinking in his ball. Game over. 

Max turns around, realizing who Dean winked at, he turns back around, slamming his pool stick down. “Good game, I’m done, guess you won Dean, you got the money, and the one girl i’ve liked in a really long time, guess you always do win, huh?” He spits out, a bitter tinge to his voice. He scoffs and walks away.

Dean’s suddenly confused, what the hell was he talking about. He looks over at you, you’re watching the television over the bar, no clue what had just happened, he follows Max outside catching him before he reaches his truck.

“Hey! I didn’t get anything, if this is about y/n, you screwed that up on your own, okay? I had nothing to do with that!” Dean shouts. Max laughs and turns to face him. “Oh bullshit Dee, you have everything to do with it!” He sneers, “I really liked her man, she was cool, but like always, Dean Winchester always gets the girl!” He scoffs, making Dean frown, confused. 

“Y/n isn’t mine! she’s my friend, whatever you did to piss her off on your date was your problem, she didn’t tell me what you did but if you wanted her that bad, you had the chance to fix it!”

“REALLY DEE? Tell me, how the fuck would you fix the girl you like screaming your best friends name in bed when shes with you? Huh? How the fuck do i fix her thinkng about you while she’s fucking me?” He swallows, “Man, forget it, you wouldn’t understand, god forbid that ever happened to you.” He spits, before he’s in his truck, driving away. Dean’s still standing there, more confused than ever.

He finally makes it back inside, his eyes roaming around for you. He finds you in the same spot, the female bar tender chatting with you and making you laugh. Your eyes find him, beckoning him over and he moves.

He finally reaches you and you smile, “I got you another beer. How did the game go? You disappeared.” You ask, and he stares at you, he finally pipes up, and your heart sinks. Oh no. Please no.

“Max seemed very upset when he saw you, what happened on your date again? Why didn’t you ever go out with him again?” He asks, you take a sip of your beer and shrug. “I dunno, he wasn’t my type, just didn’t work out.” You bite your lip, hoping to god he lets this go, you don’t need to relive that embarassing moment. 

He nods, taking a drink of his own beer, “Okay, so he just wasn’t your type, that’s all? It had nothing to do with you screaming my name in the middle of sex?” He calmly points out and you nearly choke on your beer, spitting beer across the bar table, everyone close by stares at you, you turn red, apologizing and grabbing napkins to clean up your mess. 

You turn and face Dean, “He fucking told you!” Dean raises an eyebrow, “In a not so nice way, so it’s true? You really did?” He smirks and you bury your face in your hands, “Oh god...” You call out and when you look back up Dean’s cheesy grin is staring back at you, “Actually, apparently it’s Oh Dean.”

You throw a nice solid punch into his shoulder before you run out of the bar, “Y/n...y/n wait!” Dean calls out but you’re already half way across the bar and out the door. He throws down some cash and chases after you, catching you half way down the road.

“Y/n...” He calls out, “Just leave me alone Dean, i knew you would use this against me, i knew it. You’re a jerk.” You wipe away a tear, he finally reaches you and grabs your arm, turning you to face him. 

“Hey, i didn’t mean to upset you, i’m sorry, i just, i was surprised, that’s all.” He sighs, “Why didn’t you just tell me? I thought Max was the one who hurt you or something.” He speaks softly and you sniffle. 

“it’s embarassing, i didn’t even know i did it, i was so into it and then he just stopped, for a second i thought he’d already, you know, i was disappointed then we got into an argument about it and he took me home.” You shrugged. 

Dean nodded, he was quiet for a while, and then he spoke, revealing something that made even you question if you were drunk.

“I uh, i guess i wasn’t expecting to hear that, and i guess i got a little excited cause iunno i just, i think i’m falling in love with you, and when Max told me i just uh, i guess i was hopeful that maybe it meant you felt the same.” He swallows before going quiet, watching your reaction carefully. 

You nodded, frowning as you realised you weren’t dreaming, Dean loved you, Dean Winchester loved you.

“I think i’ve always known, Deep down, i think i’ve always loved you.” You shrug, “Every since we shared our first kiss, i think part of me has loved you ever since.” You smile, finally meeting Dean’s eyes, the grin on his face tells you all you need to know, this man is crazy about you, always has been.

“oh yeah?” He smiles, reaching out to grab you, you chuckle, leaning up and placing a slow, deep kiss on his lips.

“Yeah, what can i say, you’re just my type.” You smirk and Dean laughs. 

“Well then, why don’t we get back home and i’ll give you a real reason to scream my name.” He smirks, leaning down quite a bit to place wet warm kisses along your exposed neck. 

“You’re never going to let me live that down are you?” You roll your eyes, he meets them and a sexy grin appears on his face. 

“Not a chance.” 

[artificialqueens]

Like You Mean It (Taywhora) - Holtzmanns

read on ao3 | word count: 2930

Tayce is not sure when A’whora put her number down as her emergency contact, but if she’s still kicking, she’s gonna kill her for it.

It’s just appendicitis. That’s it. A’whora’s fine, the nurse on the phone had even said that they got to it before it burst, and now the only issue that A’whora still has left is her penchant for cheesy jokes. She’s okay. So why are Tayce’s palms feeling this clammy as she pushes past the crowds milling about in the hospital reception?

In which anaesthesia makes A'whora brave enough for the both of them.

A/N: Well hello! Haven’t ventured past my branjie bubble for a long while, though these two have absolutely captured my heart. Figured a nice little one shot would be a good place to start. Thank you Writ for being the best and betaing, and Pop for helping my Canadian ass with lingo. Title is from Mean It by Cash Cash & Wrabel. Enjoy and definitely let me know what you think!

Tayce is not sure when A’whora put her number down as her emergency contact, but if she’s still kicking, she’s gonna kill her for it.

It’s just appendicitis. That’s it. A’whora’s fine, the nurse on the phone had even said that they got to it before it burst, and now the only issue that A’whora has left is her penchant for cheesy jokes. She’s okay. So why are Tayce’s palms feeling this clammy as she pushes past the crowds milling about in the hospital reception?

The day surgery floor is a little run down, the No Phones, Please sign on the wall straight out of the 1990s with pictures of old brick phones with antennas sticking out of the top. The beds are separated with curtains rather than rooms, and Tayce is about to ask a nurse with glasses balanced on the tip of her nose about A’whora, before a piping voice at the far end of the ward answers the question for her.

“James. Jimmy. Jimbo. Is orange juice really the only option? You haven’t got blackcurrant or grape or anything like that? Are you sure this is room service?”

“This isn’t room service, ma’am.”

Tayce has to hold back a laugh at the sight of a truly stricken A’whora and her thoroughly bemused nurse with a capri sun in hand. A’whora looks as if she’s trying to come up with a response, her mouth open and her eyes slightly squinted, and Tayce can almost see the cogs turning in her brain. Tayce pushes the curtain around her back, the sound causing A’whora’s head to turn towards her almost sluggishly, her face lighting up in a loopy grin.

“Tayce! What are you doing here? You got a room at this hotel, too?”

Tayce snorts, coming around the side of the bed. Admittedly, the sight of the wires and IVs makes her heart beat a bit faster, a reminder that a few hours ago A’whora was knocked out in surgery with her side cut open.

But she’s okay now. That’s what matters.

“S’not a hotel, you idiot. You went and blew your guts up,” Tayce grins, one that turns into a snicker when A’whora’s brow furrows and her mouth drops open.

“What’d I do that for?”

Tayce pulls up a chair beside the bed. “You were saying last week that you were bored. Decided to go rogue and make something exciting happen, did you?”

“Doesn’t feel too exciting. Jiminy over here only has a capri sun, and we both know it tastes like piss,” A’whora pouts, leaning her head back against her pillow, and Tayce can’t help but shoot an apologetic look towards the nurse.

“Be nice to the man, Rory, he’s taking care of you. I’ll grab a coke from the concourse for you later.”

A’whora’s nose wrinkles, her lips pursing together. “Can’t you get me a beer instead?”

“Quite picky for someone stuck in a hospital bed in a backless gown with your arse out,” Tayce says, raising an eyebrow, but A’whora looks like she hasn’t even heard her, from the way her eyes are scanning Tayce’s features.

“Tayce?”

“Yes?”

“You’re pretty.”

A’whora lets out a giggle, and the dopey grin on her face lets Tayce know that it’s all the pain meds, really, making her say something like that. She pushes down the way her heart flips over in her chest a little bit, because A’whora really doesn’t need to know how she has her wrapped around her finger without being aware of it.

Maybe flat-sharing with her mate that she’d hooked up with as a fresher hasn’t been the smartest of Tayce’s decisions. She’s good at compartmentalising, she knows it, having stayed friends with a few of her exes because she’s good at letting go, at leaving no hard feelings behind.

But there’s something about A’whora that’s kept Tayce from being able to do the same thing with her. Maybe it’s because Tayce knows what she looks like in comfy pyjamas and a top knot on her head, maybe it’s because A’whora loves making pancakes on the weekend and always makes a stack for Tayce, too. A’whora always knows when she’s annoyed by something, and isn’t afraid of prodding her until she opens up. Yeah, it’s a bit much to have someone insistently poking at her shoulder until she talks about her feelings instead of sulking about it quietly, but it’s A’whora. It means A’whora cares.

She always has.

But Tayce has perfected the art of hiding her feelings behind a mask of cool indifference and her sense of humour. She’s always the one sitting on A’whora’s bed and giving her opinions on her outfit ideas before a date, always the one ready with ice cream and a bottle of wine when A’whora comes home grumbling about how she’s never going to find the right one. Tayce is there, always there, even when A’whora laments about how she wants someone who cares for her, someone who loves her for who she is, someone who really sees her, and she has to stop herself from giving in and telling A’whora to see who’s right in front of her.

Tayce may like her best friend, but her best friend doesn’t need to know that.

But right now, A’whora’s higher than a kite and gazing at her with a sense of awe in her eyes and it’s a bit disconcerting, really, because Tayce isn’t used to having that look directed at her. It’s unfiltered, as if A’whora is pushing past the curtains that Tayce likes to keep closed to see what she’s truly feeling.

A’whora’s dreamy laugh is enough to let Tayce know that she really doesn’t have much to worry about, in terms of A’whora noticing anything. “Really pretty. A princess. Princess Tayce.”  

Good lord.

“Does that make you a knight, then?” Tayce asks, even though she’s usually the one to make sure they get home safely on nights out when they’re drunk off their tits, the one who scowls at men who won’t leave A’whora alone.

“I’ll protect ya.” A’whora points at her and her movements are sluggish, her eyes slipping closed as she yawns, and Tayce has to ignore the way it makes her heart clench.

Her flatmate’s too damn cute for her own good.

Tayce’s chair creaks as she leans back, watching the way A’whora’s breaths even out and her movements begin to still. She pulls out her phone, and the flurry of texts coming through the group chat is not a surprise in the least.

Lawrence of Glasgow-ia: bet they’re shagging in the on-call rooms by now

Lawrence of Glasgow-ia: grey’s anatomy style

Ellie no Diamonds: not when a’whora’s sides are split in two ‘cause of surgery  

Lawrence of Glasgow-ia: tayce already split her in two

Tayce snorts, shaking her head. Lawrence never fails to take any opportunity to rip the piss out of them.

Tayce-lor Swift: I can read, u ghoul

Bim Bons Bouls: didn’t u once say u got held back in reception

Bim Bons Bouls: all at 4 years old

Tayce-lor Swift: someone had to bully the little demons in my class

Tayce-lor Swift: they deserved it so I did a good deed really

Ellie no Diamonds: that’s nice and all but is a’whora still alive or

Lawrence of Glasgow-ia: we interrupted their sweet reunion ells, have a little respect

Tayce-lor Swift: oh piss off

Tayce-lor Swift: she’s high off her tits and fast asleep

Lawrence of Glasgow-ia: was the strap that good

Tayce-lor Swift: lawrence next time it’s on sight

Lawrence of Glasgow-ia: u wish

Ellie no Diamonds: oh thank goodness she’s ok

Bims Bons Bouls: facetime us later when she wakes up I want to see drugged up a’whora

Lawrence of Glasgow-ia: as if we don’t witness that every saturday night

Bims Bons Bouls: u have a point  

Tayce shuts her phone when the conversation lulls, shoving it back in her pocket in favour of glancing at A’whora again. She looks smaller when she’s asleep like this, surrounded by wires and a monitor hanging above them in the corner. The sight makes Tayce swallow hard, because, theoretically, she knows A’whora is okay. She’ll be fine with some ice lollies and some bed rest, but if she hadn’t had surgery in time? Things could have ended very differently.

Tayce doesn’t want to think about that.

It’s a lot easier to protect A’whora when Tayce is in control of the situations around them. Times like where she watches A’whora’s drink from the corner of her eye, to make sure no one around them has the audacity to try anything stupid, or when she gets A’whora into pyjamas and wipes off her makeup after nights out before they’re out cold in one of their beds. A’whora’s more than capable of holding her own, Tayce knows that. She’s not small or weak and she’s ready to shout at whoever even tries to look at her the wrong way, but it just means that Tayce has to keep an eye out for her so that it stays like that.

Times like this, though, Tayce feels helpless. She’s not Cherry, out there saving lives with the NHS and she can’t do anything for A’whora at a time like this, either, not when A’whora needs time and healing and sleep. She wishes that bundling up A’whora in a blanket would be enough to fix her, the way that it is when A’whora’s nursing yet another ruined Tinder date over some ice cream with her at three in the morning.

“Tayce?”

A’whora’s stirring beside her, a little furrow between her brows that Tayce wants to smooth out for her.

“Yes, baby?”

“Why don’t you like me?” A’whora’s bottom lip is pushing out just a smidge, but enough that Tayce wants to run a hand through her hair, calm her down from what her anesthesia addled brain is making her experience.

“What are you on about? ‘Course I like you, you’re my best mate, you goon,” Tayce murmurs, reaching for A’whora’s hand and rubbing her thumb along the crease of her palm, as if it’ll calm the sudden hitch in A’whora’s breath.

“No, no, I…you know what I mean,” A’whora’s gaze drops, a sigh on her lips. “Forget it.”

Maybe there’s a chance that A’whora won’t remember this anyway, when she’s properly woken up and out of the hospital. Maybe whatever Tayce lets herself say right now won’t matter at all, because the consequences of her actions will be wiped clean when A’whora’s anaesthesia has worn off.

Maybe the risk of falling off the cliff that they’re dangling from is a little bit smaller than it normally is.

So Tayce steels herself, pushes the soles of her feet into the ground. “Not ‘forget it’. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“You should have kissed me that next morning. I was waiting for it.” For someone on painkillers, A’whora looks surprisingly lucid, her gaze enough to lock Tayce in, keep her from looking away.

“When?” It’s a useless question, because Tayce already knows the answer.

When they’d hooked up during freshers week, Tayce had left A’whora’s flat as soon as she woke up, because she’d just been another one night stand. Back when Tayce had no idea that A’whora would become one of her friends just a few weeks later, her closest friend a few months after that.

They’ve never really talked about it, keeping it an elephant in the room - or rather, in the flat that they share now - because they’ve had other hookups and girlfriends and they’re just mates, nothing more. Mates who have stuck around for much longer than any other partners.

It’s all hearsay at this point, unspoken words between them that Tayce has been thinking and she knows A’whora has been, too. It’s been easier not to, and to just let things play out because even though the sense of longing has coated Tayce’s heart for years at this point, talking is too much. Talking takes the coating and hardens it, making it impossible to free herself from if she needs to.

“Do y’know why none of my dates ever work out?” A’whora’s let her earlier question go, and Tayce wants to thank her for it.

“Why’s that?”

“They’re not you.”

Shit.

“Could’ve saved yourself some time and asked me out instead, then,” Tayce keeps her voice light, as if her stomach isn’t turning, as if her feet aren’t tapping on the ground because of the electric current running through her veins.

A’whora’s face doesn’t break into a smile, despite Tayce’s lighthearted tone. “Would you have said yes, though? Or brushed it off and taken it as a joke?”

“Who’s to say, really?”

“You’re an idiot,” A’whora rolls her eyes, and really, Tayce can’t fault her for it.

She’s not wrong. Not when A’whora’s capable of tying Tayce’s words into a knot of terribly worded explanations and attempts at jokes to hide the fact that her heart is pounding in her chest, that they’re walking on a tightrope so thin they could fall off any moment.

But Tayce still has reassurance of one fact, the most important of them all, and she clings to it as she says it out loud.

“And yet, you love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

“For what it’s worth, I do love you, too.” Tayce mumbles under her breath, because she’s dug herself into enough of a hole at this point.

May as well bury herself in it.

“Christ, take me out to dinner first, at least,” A’whora scoffs, but she’s smiling, the kind that reaches her eyes and is filled with mischief.

“Oh, so now you’re finding it funny?” Tayce grins, shaking her head, and sure, she’s still a little sweaty and she’s aged approximately ten years from the conversation, but part of her feels a bit lighter too.

A bit more hopeful.

Because maybe, just maybe, the two of them can have a chance at something. That is, if A’whora wakes up and remembers everything.

“Tayce! Get in here!”

Tayce pops her head into A’whora’s room, frowns when she sees her standing in front of her wardrobe. “Aren’t you supposed to be on bedrest for another day? What’re you doing up?”

A’whora scoffs, waving a hand. “I’m fine. You need to help me with picking out a dress, c’mere.”

“A dress for what? You’re not leaving the house ‘til that incision is healed, young lady,” Tayce tuts, and she has to ignore the fact that she sounds just like her own mum.

A’whora shoots her a look. “Are you daft? Have you forgotten already? You’re taking me out this weekend.”

“This weekend?” Tayce can’t help the fact that her voice comes out in a bit of a squeak, because she doesn’t remember deciding on a date and time but…

It means A’whora hasn’t forgotten.

Tayce hasn’t pushed her since coming home from the hospital, focusing on giving her the chance to heal and feel a little better rather than approaching the issue. Yeah, maybe she’s guilty of falling back into the same pattern that’s gotten the two of them here in the first place, but she’s wanted to give A’whora the chance to broach the subject before pushing it onto her.

A’whora shrugs. “Work something out. I’m expecting my socks to be knocked right off with you.”

“Kinky,” Tayce gets out, but she can feel the way her face is breaking out into a smile, threads of excitement and promise and the chance to maybe not fuck it up again.

“I’ll help you pick something out once I’ve decided where we’re going. For now, it’s back to bed with you,” Tayce grins, pointing at A’whora’s rumpled sheets.

They can work this out. They can go through the shams of going on a date like normal people and as if they’re not already half in love with each other. Maybe Tayce can kiss her again.

Christ. It’s as if she’s a fifteen year old again with absolutely no game to speak of. Frankly embarrassing.

But A’whora doesn’t seem to mind, from the way her eyes are gleaming. “I’ll climb in if you join me.”

Tayce snorts but walks around to the other side of the bed nonetheless, the side that’s become hers from all the Netflix and late night chats and so called platonic snuggles. “No funny business, though. You have to heal first.”

A’whora climbs under the covers, and her slight wince as she lays down makes Tayce’s chest tighten. Despite her big talk, she’s still not fully better just yet.

“Serious business only, got it. Now come and snuggle me, isn’t that supposed to speed up recovery?”

“I don’t think medical advice from Grey’s Anatomy is exactly sound.”

“And yet, you’re under the covers, too,” Awhora mumbles, letting out a yawn.

She snuggles into Tayce’s side and Tayce lets her, running her fingers up and down A’whora’s back in the way she knows never fails to lull her to sleep when she’s tired.

They’ll work it out. Whatever this is. They will, because the other option is letting the words hang in the air unspoken and Tayce isn’t sure she can go back to that.

So she’ll kiss A’whora good morning, or evening, rather, once she wakes up from her nap. She’ll take her out this weekend, something not too strenuous because she still needs to rest. They can have another go at their freshers one night stand with years and years of friendship and context and caring for each other.

After this long, Tayce is ready for it.

[olderthanthemorning]

south london forever (sirius black) part 1

pairing: sirius black x reader

summary: "and everything i ever did was just another way to scream your name." in which reader remembers adolescence and a certain someone's youthful grin.

wc: 1.6k

warnings: mentions of drinking

a/n: look so i fell off the face of the earth for the past few months but i'm in school and also mentally unwell so that's my excuse. this didn't turn our the way i wanted it to but i feel like that's ok?? not quite as painful as it could've be. (also ik i need to do gold rush pt2 but ive been trying to write it and never like what i write so :/) anyway, feedback is always welcome! also request stuff! characters or songs!! (p.s. i'm obsessed with SOUR by olivia rodrigo rn so pls request songs !!)

the night bus jolted and shook you awake. it was a long journey from hogwarts, but you were finally near your own neighborhood. as you looked around, everything seemed just slightly different. you were suddenly hyper aware of the fact that you would never be in any of these places as a student, or a child, again. the old church that had at least 4 weddings every spring seemed a little faded, the park and playground where you and your mates would drink at night looked much smaller in the light of early summer.

within the playground was a swing set, which hadn't meant much to you until a year ago. after a night of singing way too loud with a group of your friends, the manager of the local pub, david, kicked the lot of you out. after a few playful swears and hand gestures to the man, you promised to be back the next night and headed across the street to sit and sober up before trying to climb back into your bedroom window. the group you were with seemed larger than usual so you linked arms with mary, a fellow witch that lived up the street from you.

"picked up a few stragglers, have we?" you asked. mary was a social butterfly, and when you didn't know someone, you could count on her to know them.

"yes! and even better, they're from school," she was careful not to name hogwarts. one of the only downsides of hanging out with muggles was having to police your conversations. "that one there is james," she said pointing at a boy in a slacks and a button down that looked like it was only tucked in a fraction of what it had been at the beginning of the night. his hair is neatly cut and he wears glasses, although they make him look young, like you can see him growing out of them in while you look at him.

"he looks like he's far from home," you laughed, the boy seemed far to sheltered to have been just thrown out of a gay bar.

"tell me about it," mary snorted, "but no he's here with the other one," she nods at another boy who looks more like the others. he has on jeans and a t-shirt that is just short enough to threaten showing his middle at any moment. his hair is dark and curly but a lot messier than james', like he had been listening to a lot of rolling stones. "he's called sirius. apparently he's staying with james this summer because his parents kicked him out. they're pure bloods, real pricks."

"you'd have to be a knob to call your kid sirius," you snickered, letting go of your friends hand and flopping onto the grass. you looked up and saw the upside-down face of sirius, "just wait until you hear my brother's name."

you feel yourself go pale and cover your face with a hand, "shit. i'm sorry," although embarrassed, you couldn't help but giggle.

he chuckled, "no, it's alright. but i your going to make fun of my name, i should at least know yours." he sat beside you, prompting you to sit up, and frantically brush the grass from your hair. "i'm y/n," you say, sticking out your hand, "and that's mary."

"hi mary," sirius give your friend a knowing smile, which confuses you. "you're both going into seventh year?"

you nodded and he continued talking for a bit. sirius seemed to be engaged in the conversation with you and mary but would look around every so often, like he was expecting something. over the course of a few minutes, he managed to refer to three family members as "dickheads," admit to a prank that had involved a charm on a library door that resulted a tidal wave dowsing whoever tried to open it, and start an argument about how the chudley cannons were so much better than the holyhead harpies. the last of which you disagreed with, hence the argument.

"come on sirius, you're not fighting about quidditch again, are you?" james sat down on mary's other side.

"i like to think of it as educating our new friends. they support the harpies, james. they need all the help they can get."

"no no, harpies are decent. they've got you there." james replied, smiling softly at mary.

"listen, y/n, do you want go on a walk?" sirius suddenly turns to you.

"um..." you're caught off guard by his forwardness, you only just met the guy.

"yeah, come on. just a short walk." he pulled you up to your feet and dragged you away.

you follow him into the middle of the street, illuminated by a dim yellow glow from a light post. "how come i've never met you at school?" he turns around to look at you, walking backwards.

"dunno, not looking hard enough i guess?" you tried to test the waters of flirting, since he tried so hard to get you alone.

"i guess not," he smiled and stuck his hands in his pockets. a silence fell over the two of you as you continued to walk, just around the block.

as you rounded the corner to the opposite side of the park from your friends you decide to speak again, "so do you just really like walks or something? this seems like something you could've done alone." you continue to follow him up to a swing set and sit down in the swing next to the one he had perched in.

"you can be kind of thick, you know?" sirius looked at you as if he had just explained a simple concept to you.

"i'm sorry?" you felt annoyed, like he was mocking you. "look, you're the one that asked to be alone with me and then go on acting like a preteen boy that's never kissed anyone."

"y/n, i wasn't trying to put the moves on you, honest. i know i can go on a walk alone, but it's a little awkward to make out with someone while their best friend's right there, innit?" he pointed across the park to where mary and james were coming up for air from a kiss, giggling.

"oh." a different kind of embarrassment washed over you. "how long has that been happening?"

"james hasn't shut up about her for about a week, but tonight was the first time he's had the guts to actually talk to her."

"right." you had a sudden wish to recall a hex that would allow you to melt into ice lolly goo and seep into the mulch at your feet. you took a chance and glanced at sirius, who was grinning at you. "please don't say anything, my ego is already bruised," you said, dropping your head again.

"i mean, i'm flattered, really," he clutched his heart, dramatically, "but if i was really trying to pull you, we would be long gone by now."

"wow, you know some people find humility endearing."

"not me. how could i be humble with a face like this?" you're unsure if your eyes have ever rolled this much before in your life.

"so your ego has also had enough attention for the evening," you laugh. there is another short silence, much less awkward than the one during your walk.

"it's a star, by the way," it's sirius who breaks it this time. "sirius is a star in canis major," you realize he's referencing to your comment about his name earlier.

"yeah, i know. brightest star in the sky, right?" night lessons in the astronomy tower hadn't prepared you for much, but it was proving helpful now.

"something like that. i agree with you though, it's a little much. my parents are kind of," he paused, "supercilious? that's not the right word. but i'm not sure there is a good word for what my parents are."

"i didn't mean to give you shit about it earlier. i actually like your name," while calling it your favorite name would be a stretch, but you felt like this was the sensitive thing to say. he couldn't change it, after all.

"thanks."

"oy!" james calls to you two. the entire group had gathered and was waving you over.

"well, i guess that's our queue," you stand up and walk back together, making small conversation on the way.

the group had gathered because it was apparently time to call it a night. everyone said their goodbyes and started walking their separate ways. you were now waiting on mary to say goodbye to james, as she was always your buddy to walk home with. once again, you're left with sirius as he waits for james.

"well, it was a pleasure to meet you y/n, i look forward to next time." he said. you rack your brain and try to remember if you had made plans to hangout again. you were drunk but not still drunk enough to have missing memories.

"next time?" you ask.

"i've already bragged about how quickly i could charm you. now i just have to prove it." you hope the light post is dim enough to hid your slight blush.

"well, then i look forward to disproving you." and with that, mary is ready and the two of you link arms once again to walk back towards your homes.