#i just came here to show the banters i got. ive got one more of that to share and then im done for the day here SALKFJ

[v-arbellanaris]

ok im gonna stop my pt for now because my RSI is acting up but! i was hoping for more banter when i brought loghain along to soldier's peak but as i was playing it just now. so many delicious parallels between loghain and sophia dryden, funnily enough. it's so fucking good.

[buuniebaby]

HOME TO ME - HAMZAH X LATINA!READER 🎀

hiii! first of all i wanna make a quick note - very sorry for the inconsistency in posting for a few days. ive been struggling with writers block and summer bedrotting is getting to me a lil. 😓😓

there were A LOT of drafts of this fic that i picked up and then didn’t like. a big part of that is that i really wanted to make a fic that hits sort of close to home, and that’s what this one is to me! i was born in nicaragua and moved to the us at a young age, so this fic is based off of my experiences relating to that, even down to little things like my parents and their broken english lol. i still tried to make it pretty ambiguous to other latin-american countries, so I hope it isn’t too specific. it took me a long time to write, but im really happy with the way it came out after a day or two of really thinking about it.

this fic includes: lots of fluff, then it gets nasty. mirror sex, nothing too rough 🤗

wc: 3.4k

Your childhood summers haven’t changed since the last time you stepped foot here, even though it feels like it’s been lifetimes. you’re home, and you’ve brought your boyfriend along with you this time.

the sun shines down on you, a little too hot for your liking. it’s a lot hotter down here than the canadian weather you’re used to. it’s different, but comforting at the same time. what really makes the biggest change is the sight of your boyfriend, rays of sunlight beaming down on him, framing his curls perfectly. it makes you feel at home just as much as being here does.

the air is warm and sticky, thick with remnants of a heavy rain. sweat clings to areas of exposed skin, dampening his shirt collar and hair with a sweat.

you don’t think you’ve loved the latin-american summer as much as you have seeing hamzah bask under it.

showing your boyfriend around your home country feels like the world around you is unreal. it’s like two universes colliding - ones that probably shouldn’t coexist.

one of the things that really makes you feel like you’re out of your own body is walking down the same road that baby-you walked down to get to school. if you could’ve told your middle school self that you bagged a man this bad she would’ve forgiven you for not marrying her celebrity crush.

and the food is what really gets you - the flavor of nostalgia mixing with the taste of your boyfriend’s lips is an otherworldly sensation. although you can’t get him too full yet; that’s a job for your family.

speaking of your family - hamzah is terrified.

he tries looking extra nice at first. he wants to make a good impression, just like you’ve told him to - it’s why he’s surprised you’re bursting out in laughter seeing him walk out in full black tie attire.

“you don’t have to dress like you’re going to a wedding, hamzah-“ you giggle when he speaks over you, trying to defend himself.

“you told me to look nice, and we’re going to a dinner, y’know-“ he rambles, but catches himself. “and you’re wearing a dress!”

you roll your eyes, giving him a dead stare. “this a a sundress, hamzah. it’s not like.. fancy.” he looks at you blankly back. it’s like there’s not a single thought behind his eyes.

after your criticism and a lot of banter, you’ve got him dressed up more.. how you would have envisioned. he’s got those glasses on - the ones he usually edits with. and god, he looks good. he’s paired those with a polo shirt and a nice pair of jeans; he looks nice, presentable, but not over the top.

you’re knocking on the door while he almost shyly stands behind you before you know it. it takes a good few seconds for you to receive any sort of response, but you’re used to it. once someone eventually comes to the door, you’re greeted with the sound of children squealing in the background and music playing off a speaker - the loud environment you’re most used to.

you think you can see hamzah sweating.

your mom greets you with two little cheek kisses, as always, then smothers you into a hug. “muy linda,” she presses another kiss to your forehead, “mi alma.” she eventually finishes her ramblings about how beautiful you are and how much she’s missed you, then pauses as she pulls back. hamzah flinches.

she’s eyeing him down, eyebrows furrowed with a hand on her hip. It’s the death glare - one you know very well. if he wasn’t sweating before he definitely is now, and you’re even close to breaking into one.

hamzah doesn’t even have time to panic before her angry demeanor snaps into laughter. she’s giggling at the way his smile had dropped, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him into that same little cheek kiss. he stumbles when she does it, not knowing what to do; an anxious fluster of sorts.

she pulls away looking at you, and her giggles turn into straight-up laughter.

“he look at me so scared.. he like, ‘i already messed up!’” she says, still laughing, now imitating hamzah’s flustered appearance. her English is slightly broken, as you expected, but it’s the way she tries for you is what really counts. she’s putting in the effort. you laugh with her, but not really at what she’s saying - it’s the way she’s already made herself comfortable around your boyfriend.

“y tu eres el novio, verdad?” your father says, pointing at hamzah, managing to creep up behind your mother without you even noticing. “you going to marry her?”

you awkwardly laugh at your father and how weird he has to make things, but that’s just how your family is. hamzah doesn’t mind it, he understands - nonchalantly smiling, looking down at you as he replies with a quick “hope so.”

you giggle back, but your smile is genuine - you know he’s serious about what he just said. “maybe one day.” you continue for him.

you two enter your house and he’s already being crowded by relatives of yours. he’s introducing himself to one of your tías when he feels something tugging on the leg of his pants, startling him. he looks down only to see your baby cousin staring up at him, big beady eyes and an open mouth, almost like he’s some sort of god.

around an hour later, hamzah is about a beer and two plates of food in to the family function. he’s sitting on the floor, a doll in his hand, playing with that same prima from before. you’re not even sure if they’re communicating, if that baby can even speak any language yet, but whatever they’re doing hamzah.. seems to be enjoying himself.

it’s funny, but it’s sweet at the same time, watching your boyfriend like this. it makes you think of your future together. marrying him, taking him into your family - even watching him play with your little prima makes you fall ill with baby fever. he would be an amazing girl dad.

by the end of the night, hamzah is starting to get a little bit plastered, and your mom is already calling him mijo. you’re trying to teach him how to dance to your country’s music (which he surprisingly happens to not be bad at) while also trying to sneak a few drinks yourself. you’re running back to the bathroom when your mom catches you, pulling you aside for a second.

you tilt your head at her, confused. you’re hoping this isn’t what you’ve been nervous about the whole night - you really, really don’t want a “we don’t like this boy” talk.

instead, she smiles, which wipes away most of your worry, but you’re still staring at her reluctantly.

“te vas a casar con este chico.” she mutters, smiling. she might be a little drunk herself from the way she’s talking, but you know there’s a truth to her words. you smile back a small grin, but it means more to you than what appears - your man is locked in. even your mom agrees, he’s the one.

thank the lord.

the party dies down after a while, baby cousin and older relatives drifting off to their bedrooms one by one. you somehow find yourself sitting on your parent’s couch, cuddled up in a blanket next to hamzah. you’re both a little tipsy, what you would say is fine enough to drive, but you already know your mother will argue against you.

“y’wanna get out of here too?” hamzah whispers, voice deep and soft in your ear.

“mhmm.” you say, comfortable in his arms. “wanna stay here for a second though.”

hamzah doesn’t complain, gently rubbing your shoulder underneath the blanket with his forefinger and thumb. it’s domestic, a gentle touch, and it makes you feel warm inside.

“was cute seeing you play with my prima.” you mumble, smiling to yourself at the memory. he laughs when he picks up on what you’re talking about.

“I don’t really think I understood what was going on like, that whole time.” he begins to ramble. “I think her barbies were like, beefing and shit.” he says, smiling down at you when he sees the way you light up with laughter.

“if we ever like, get married, i wanna have a girl.” you say. he’s quick to rebut you.

“that’s not how it works.” he argues back, stupidly.

“well then, like, we just have more.” you say, the mix of alcohol and sleepiness not giving you the energy to seriously discuss this with him. “you’d make a good girl dad, i think.”

he smiles at that comment. he’s seen it around on tiktok and other social media. he thinks it’s cute, and suddenly the idea of marriage and knocking you up doesn’t seem so scary to him. that gentle touch on your shoulders is moving down to your hips before you know it. you’re both aware that you can’t do anything on your family couch, but you know the intention behind his grip.

“i think you’d be a good boy mom.” he says back. “i could see you like, teaching him how to cook and stuff. i think if you had a baby boy he would be like, really respectful, not like brain-rotted.” you laugh at the stupidity of his comments.

“i think if you raised a boy, he would end up going down like, the alt right pipeline, and start watching andrew tate clips on youtube shorts.”

you both laugh at that - it’s obvious that you’re joking now, but you still enjoy the deprecating banter.

“if my kid doesn’t reach alpha male status, im sending his ass to the frontlines.”

you continue your painfully stupid chatter, not paying attention to how dark it’s getting.

your mother eventually creeps up to you, and you take it as a sign that you should probably start making your way out.

after saying your final goodbyes to your family members who are still standing awake, you’re making your way out the door. after a few cheek kisses and repeatedly denying the “no cab? you sure?” from your mom, you two are on the way back to your hotel.

hamzah’s hand is on your thigh as he drives. it’s another domestic touch that drives you crazy. the little things are really getting to you tonight.

“you’re good with kids.” you mumble, letting your thoughts out with no warning.

“yeah?” is all hamzah says, keeping his eyes on the road and his hand on your thigh.

“yeah.” you repeat back in a breathier tone.

“im not getting you pregnant right now, if that’s what you’re asking.” he mutters, still focused on the road. “I’ll cum inside you, but I can’t handle a baby yet-”

“hamzah!” you nearly yell. “i don’t mean- i mean yeah, that’s a part of it, but like- i guess you’re just like-“ you stutter, trying to gather your flustered self. “it’s like, a domestic thing I guess. makes me wanna settle down with you one day.”

despite how nonchalant he’s acting, he gets exactly what you’re saying.

“yeah. y’know, that little sundress you’re wearing?” hamzah starts, eyes tearing off the road for a second. “that’s like, wife shit.”

you giggle at the way he says it, but you’re flattered at the intention.

“kinda surprised you liked it that much. feel like guys think sundresses are just like, skin-tight skims dresses.”

“you look fucking hot in it, are you serious? like shit, maybe i will just get you pregnant if you’re wearing that.” hamzah pauses for a moment, looking over at you while your eyes widen. “i’m joking. by the way.” you let out a soft “aww,” making a soft smile creep onto his face.

“you don’t have to tonight. i’m joking.” you smile up at him. “but i do miss the feeling of you inside me.” you can tell that you’re at least getting to him a little bit; he’s starting to get riled up.

“duh,” he says, jokingly, but his tone changes with his next words. “ill cum all over that fuckin’ dress if you really want me to.”

there’s the hamzah you were looking for.

he’s already pulling the car you two rented into the parking lot of your hotel, and you can’t even speak before the silence is interrupted with his own thoughts.

“gonna be all over you the second we get to our fucking room.” he mutters, opening his car door. as both of you get out, you can see the hard-on already somewhat formed through his pants.

you love getting him worked up like this.

checking into the room is almost painful. he stands behind you as you speak in spanish to the hotel staff, cock pressed up right against your ass. you’re stuttering as she asks you for your reservation, knowing you’re about to get fucking destroyed.

he wasn’t lying about being all over you. the minute that keycard clicks and the door is open, you’re being shoved onto the bed, hamzah crawling on top of you.

it’s a pretty hotel room - you’re taking it all in as hamzah is on top of you. huge bathroom, silky sheets, relatively good size, yet there’s one thing that sticks out to you. there’s a long mirror, placed at the side of the bed.

it’s the perfect place to get fucked in front of.

you don’t even think hamzah has taken a glance at the architecture around him from the way he’s locked in on your body. you feel his hands gravitate against different areas of your body, resting on your hips, grabbing the soft flesh through your dress. he places a soft, warm kiss to your lips, but continues with a harsher, more sloppy one. it only continues on your neck, biting and kissing down to your collarbone.

he keeps his lips in a certain place for a second, and you already know you’re going to be covering up dark spots on your neck tomorrow.

“pretty,” is all he mumbles when he pulls off, moving down to add yet another bite to your neck.

he pulls the top of your sundress down a little bit, straps going over your shoulders. it’s just enough to free your bra, which he pulls off even quicker.

his mouth is all over your tits before you know it - as expected. he’s sucking at them, licking at the nipple while the other hand fondles the soft flesh around. you can feel him getting harder against your thigh, which you didn’t even think was possible at this point.

you can tell he’s getting frustrated with how fucking tight his pants are getting, cock getting harder by the second. he quickly unbuttons his jeans, pulling them down to his ankles - he’s a little too horny to take the effort to fully pull them down. when he pulls off his boxers he lets out a sigh, letting his cock free.

you readjust to do the same, pulling at the straps of your dress, but hamzah stops you, a large hand covering yours.

“want you to keep it on.”

yes sir.

you pull the straps back up to where they should regularly be, wearing your sundress like normal, just braless. hamzah takes a minute to catch his breath, but it’s hard when you’re under him looking like that. he takes in his surroundings a little bit more as he calms down, finally noticing the mirror to his side. you can tell by the look on his face that he’s got the same idea as you.

his focus lands back on you when he turns back to look you in the eyes, gently stroking himself. his hips roll softly into his hand, pumping himself loosely in his fist. he takes his other hand and pulls your dress up just enough to see your underwear.

he’s too lazy to get them off your body, so he just pushes them to the side, a finger sliding between the soft lips to your entrance. it emits a gasp from you, even though you were expecting it.

“you look so fucking good from here.” he says, breathy. your brows furrow for a second, confused as to what he means by ‘from here,’ but then you realize where his eyes are pointed -

- the mirror.

you turn your head to look at it too, and god, he isn’t wrong. the way his hands strain, groping at your thighs while he grazes against your cunt. it’s hotter than you had expected, the idea of seeing yourself get destroyed from multiple angles.

he presses a finger into you, and you flinch at the feeling. it’s not long before he’s sliding another one in with it, pulling at your hips with his strong arms to bring you down to his knuckles. you’re looking at yourself in the mirror as he does it, watching as he pushes you around like a toy.

he pulls his fingers out after curling them a few times inside of you, and you protest by trying to buck up your hips up again. he pushes on your womb with big hands, forcing you down.

“s’okay baby.” he affirms you in a soft voice. “wanna fuck you now.”

he grabs you by the waist, strong enough to pick you up with just his bare hands and flip you over. he presses your bodies close together once you’re on your hands and knees, your back against his chest. he nestles his head right above your neck, the perfect spot to whisper into your ear.

“look in the mirror,” he starts, and you immediately do what he says. “watch how fucking good you look while I touch you.”

your back arches as an instinct at his words, feeling his palms glide against your hips. your vision feels hazy, but you’re still paying attention to the way he clings onto soft skin.

you let out a whine, shutting your eyes and facing down when he touches your inner thighs, but it doesn’t last long. before you can finish his hand rushes to your jaw, grabbing your face, pointing your head back to the mirror.

“told you to look at yourself, baby.”

it’s hot, the way he’s in control of you, even if it doesn’t take much to get you to submit. he kisses at your shoulder blade softly, watching your desperate expression fade into excitement. he strokes himself one last time before the tip meets your pussy.

your breath hitches when you feel him slide into you, strokes slow. it fits in you nicely, the back of your thighs pressing against his when he’s all the way in. a finger and thumb caress the skin between your ass and hips while he bottoms out.

“c’mon baby,” he says, slowly starting to drag his hips in and out of you. “move those hips.”

you can’t argue with him, doing what he says on command. you roll your hips back the same way you roll your eyes, creating a rhythm with his thrusts. it earns a moan from him.

he grips your hips while his speed up, moving in and out of you with an unforgiving pace. it’s enough to send you reeling, squealing as you struggle to keep your focus on the mirror. you can barely keep your composure, the urge to shove your head in your pillow and just let him use you stronger than ever.

“wasn’t- fuck- lying when I told you I wanna come all over that dress.” he says, struggling to get his words out. it only makes you clench around him, his words driving you to your own finish.

you’re screaming a “hamzah! can’t fucking take it-“ while he’s plowing into you, building up a well-awaited orgasm. he waits until he feels that clench-and-pulse sensation around his cock, signaling that you’ve came before he pulls out.

he doesn’t even need to touch himself to cum after seeing you like this - he lets himself go, ropes of his semen covering the floral patterns of your dress.

he basks in the sight of you for a moment, catching his breath after his orgasm. it’s a lot for him, fucking you after being pent up the whole day. overstimulating, almost. you’re just that attractive to him, poor boy can’t control himself.

he lays on top of your chest, grounding himself. the feeling of being against you bare skin is comforting to him, a sense of home that you two both find in each other. you run your hands through the curls of his hair.

that’s what he is to you - home. just like how it feels to be here.

[lilyofthesword-writes]

What Should Be - Epilogue (Batman)

Summary: You have a loving family, a cozy home, a great job - What more could a person ask for? But what do you do when an injured man dressed as a bat shows up in your home in the middle of the night?

Pairing: Batman x Reader (Platonic or Romantic)

Word Count: 844

Warnings/Disclaimers: Blood, injuries

Counterpart: Alchemy (Please read first)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Masterlist

Oracle had, of course, managed to locate the Batmobile days earlier. She had Red Robin meet you all there. After depositing you and Batman, Nightwing, and Red Hood stayed behind to further secure the two Djinn for the GCPD. Mere minutes into the drive, you had passed out.

You had no idea how much time had passed when you finally woke up. Blinking away the grogginess, you found yourself in a large cave that was surprisingly warm. Or maybe you were just warm enough to not notice the draft that typically came with cave systems. It was also surprisingly well lit. Although you were unable to see the bats whose squeaks echoed somewhere nearby. 

Where is— No… This can’t be, right?

Sitting up, every ache and pain the came with laying in bed for too long hit you like a bag of bricks. The blanket that had been covering you fell to your lap. And there was the draft you had expected. Shivers wracked your body.

If this really is the Bat Cave, how does that man not get sick from being here.

Then again, you had stayed in worse locations during your hunting excursions years ago. You managed to stay healthy. Relatively. Wounds notwithstanding.

Heavy, hurried footsteps sounded through the cave. Despite your theory, you weren’t taking any chances. You swung your legs and tried to stand, only to be caught by the IV drip you hadn’t felt mere moments before. Cursing to yourself, you pulled at the medical tape holding the needle in place.

“Don’t.”

You stopped. Theory confirmed. You turned, looking behind you as much as your sore muscles would allow. Batman may as well have sprinted towards you. He replaced the tape, calloused fingers smoothing out the material with the utmost care. He— He wasn’t wearing his gloves. Or his utility belt. Or his cape. Just his barebones suit, boots, and cowl.

There was nothing you could bring yourself to say as he rounded the bed, pulled your legs back on it, and coaxed you to lay down. It wasn’t until the head hit the pillow that you finally spoke.

“I… Umm… Thanks… This is comfier than the gurney.” Your voice held a raspy, disused quality.

Batman nodded and stared. It was almost like he didn’t know what to say. Almost.

“Hey, are you…” you started. “Are you… okay?”

“I should be asking you that,” he replied without missing a beat. 

You shrugged playfully. “Says the one who needed rescuing.”

He pursed his lips, forcing himself not to play into your banter. You wished he would have. It was better than the silence that hung heavy in the air, weighing down on you both, the uncomfortable stare, and the curiosity that got the better of him.

“Are you?”

“Y—Yeah…” You sighed and broke eye contact. “Just… Dreamt of what could have been.”

Batman nodded somberly, understanding. “Who were they?”

Were they just part of the dream?

“My partner… Jesse… They were real. We got together when I tried to retire from hunting before…” Your throat threatened to clamp down on your esophagus. “Before Benton.”

“And the boy?”

You sat up, bringing your knees to your chest. “Torrence was the boy we were going to adopt. After Jesse… I couldn’t finish the adoption process. It wouldn’t have been fair to Torrence…”

More silence.

You wanted to ask. It was only fair right? 

Batman shifted on his feet before decidedly sitting on the bed. His head tilted, his gaze on the floor. “I saw my family… What would— What could have happened if they had lived. If my father had fought against the mugger and won.”

Oh… Oh.

“And what made you leave all of that?” you half whispered. What tipped you off that it wasn’t real?

He thought for a moment. “It felt… like a gilded cage. I had my parents and no one else... Then, there was you.”

Uncurling yourself, you raised your head. “Me?”

“Yes.” He lifted his gaze to meet yours. “There was a gala at the university for the Archeology Department. You were there to accept the donations.”

“Wh—”

“You were the head of the department.”

“Oh…”

He nodded. “That was when everything came together.”

You both sat there, swallowed by phantom echoes. Where did you go from here? You knew too much about each other. You knew Batman’s identity. Parents being mugged and killed in Gotham was nothing outlandish. Most of the city forgot these even within weeks. But his… Bruce Wayne’s story had been, and still was, publicized by the media. His public identity was dependent on his family’s tragedy. Batman with all his tech, his motivations — They all made sense now.

“I won’t tell anyone,” you breathed.

“I know.”

There was no malice, no threat behind his words. He believed you. He trusted you. 

He wasn’t ready to remove the cowl in front of you, and that was okay. This wouldn’t be the last time you saw each other or worked on a case. A door had opened to let the daylight in.

[inventedfangirling]

Hello this is basically a long post about me sorting through my feelings about bad buddy and why it means so much to me.

So over the past few weeks ( i first watched the show 7 weeks ago) ive been trying to figure out what exactly about bad buddy and patpran in particular have got me so inexplicably fond and devoted to them and apart from the usual answers of great writing, directing, performances and the best most electric chemistry and banter known to humankind, i did arrive at couple of other answers too.

First of all pat and (especially) pran are deep and well rounded characters.

Their worlds feel lived in and real.

Their feelings and thoughts and motivations are of course excellently portrayed by both ohm and nanon. and they gave representation to queer people everywhere. pat being the pan/ bi king he is and pran being the gayest babyboy warrior poet ever. pran especially given his repressed nature and emotional closed-off-ness is somebody a lot of people surely saw themselves in, including myself. seeing myself represented like that starting off the way he is and then taking small steps one by one over the course of the whole show (and over years in the show's universe) to arrive at the more assured, more open, more ready to be vulnerable (but still very much the pran we all loved in the first episode itself) was so wonderful to see.

The fact that the show happens in a non homophobic universe doesnt take away from just how special it was seeing queer characters fall, be and stay in love. and most importantly that they got their happy ending (i wont be hearing anything against this cos the ending was happy, despite the slightly bittersweet tinge of it, it was happy and there shall be no counter arguments begone i cant with that)

That episode 12 gave a glimpse of their future.

A world where pat will one day be able to sit with pran in his house eating food made by dissaya. that pran and pat's mom work on a common hobby together cos why not. a world where they no longer have to hide, a world were they could well and truly thrive.

Its so so important as queer people that we get representation and that in a world that is often cruel to the likes of us especially here in asia, that we see happy adult queer lives, where they can be in love in the most mundane of ways.

Patpran and bad buddy gave us that and i will forever be thankful for it.

That still doesn't capture exactly why i rate them as a couple so so highly in my head.

So i thought of patpran in the context of all the other love stories i could possibly remember watching. i thought of some of my top favourite couples - mondler, phil & claire, schmidt & cece, peraltiago, leslie & ben, jack & rebecca, randall & beth, simon & wilhelm, jaeyong & sangwoo, ji hyun & jaewon, bai lang & xun an, tara & darcy, sumi & rimjhim and so so many more and what stood out for me when it came to patpran was that they were the one couple out of all these couples i adore who didnt let anything get between them once they got together.

Every other couple among the ones ive listed have had jobs or other relationships or distance or parents or workplace rules /etiquette or circumstances or the royalty standing in between their love and as a result causing the couple to break apart ( a couple of episodes for mondler to seasons of confusion for peraltiago and schmidt & cece etc) even if briefly.

Except for phil & claire (who btw wasnt even sure about marrying phil when she did) almost none of these couples got together and stayed together throughout their relationship. and yes i agree that a lot of these obstacles and circumstances are very real and taxing and no wonder people chose their own peace at least for a while to deal with everything BUT i just cant help feel more appreciative of pat pran even more cos these two 19 year olds figured this whole thing out faster than any of those full grown adults did.

And yes its fictional and maybe even unrealistic (given the kind of relationships i see irl) yet patpran really do deserve all the love they get. they do deserve a lot of props.

Its not like they didn't have adverse obstacles standing in their way, they had to fight against their families years and years of lies and all the intergenerational trauma and their faculty rivalry and a shitty friend who outed them and any single one of these should have caused at least 12 episodes worth of conflict and miscommunication in any other couple.

And yes i do recognise that bbs didnt have the luxury of time or multiple seasons but they could have kept them apart for a whole episode at least, i was convinced we were in for that at the end of episode 8 as the aftermath of wai outing them. like there is no way the relationship comes out of it unscathed ( i thought! ). and while im sure they personally were rattled and betrayed (pran more so), instead of blaming anybody else or each other they actually chose to handle it together, they worked together and chose to move forward together.

The fact that such a terrible experience instead of breaking them apart actually reaffirmed to both pat and pran just how much their relationship means to the both of them, that they come out of it actually stronger??

i was friggin shook to my core.

And then came the gunshots and the family finding out and the running away and the coming back and the fake breakup and the pressures of all of this should have been enough to drive a serious wedge between any two characters, especially at their age and lack of experience. and yet??? and yet at each obstacle they get up, they draw the other closer and they get down to working on it together again.

Over and over and over and over again.

So for me what separates patpran from everybody else is the fact that ever since they got together, they have chosen eo, intentionally, that has made the difference.

Pat and pran's story may have been destined ( i personally don't know if i believe in destiny). they may have been born neighbours and felt unexplainable intense feelings (that later turned to love) for the other but when it came down to it, at its core, bad buddy soars when the two come together and they choose to keep being together, despite everything that stands in their way.

Love is a choice. love is a sacrifice. but its also a sacrifice and a choice they made for themselves and for each other and above all for their relationship.

Almost all the couples mentioned above arrive at similar destinations but they arrive at it with years of experience and years of struggle. i just cant help marvel at our teenagers who did love better than whole ass adults double their age could.

And more importantly above the awe i feel inspired and hopeful because they showed me that there's always a choice. thats there's always another option. you dont need to get out of your comfort zone. but you also dont need to be in the comfort zone always. you dont need to keep lying to yourself. you dont need to hide every single part of you. there are always other options. there is always a choice.

That hope is not just a noun its also very much a verb. That you and i and each one of us can make that choice.

That if ever i choose to partner up with someone and if we do proper healthy communication (patpran invented healthy communication and consent btw, they deserve EVERYTHING for just that but thats a whole other post) prioritizing the relationship where it mattered, i too could have something ( even remotely) like their love.

For the first time in my life probably i felt like that kind of love was attainable for me if i wanted to pursue it. They gave me hope. and they gave me joy. and i will never not be unbelievably grateful for it.

[spidermanifested]

revisiting the greeds moving castle au post-hmc rewatch here are some new thoughts hmmmmmmm

in my Envisioning. "homunculi" in this world are created when an alchemist (wizard) makes a deal with a demon, gaining the ability to use human souls (hearts) as a power source in exchange for. well. feeding human souls to a demon

for this purpose, souls are gathered from enemy countries via Forever Wars and crystalized into stones which an alchemist can ingest. the military is dedicated to finding the most promising alchemists and grooming them to become homunculi

greed was trained in alchemy by his father from a young age, along with his siblings. their family has immense sway over the royal courts, to the extent that one of his brothers (bradley) wound up marrying into the ruling family. when he came of age his education was handed off to the royal alchemist dante and their relationship did not remain professional very long. he became a homunculus at her encouragement, and then found out he didnt really like the whole "we have to maintain our dominance as alchemists via a lot of murder all the time" thing, and rapidly Howls Moving'd out of that castle

the demon he made a pact with is obviously the dwarf in the flask who im debating making like. okay so what if his father had previously Also made a pact with the same demon.... and then he transferred it to greed.... like ohh he gave up his power and even his life because he ~Saw So Much Potential In His Son~. Except one of the factors leading to greed hitting the bricks is discovering that, no actually, the demon was fully in charge of (the husk of) his father for years, and he just swapped to greed because he wanted a younger swaggier puppet. thatd kind of make a guy rethink his circumstances right

Anyway its pretty similar to calcifer if he leaves his flask he dies, and greed will also die if anything happens to him. greed keeps him very strictly restrained but doesnt tell anybody why he hates this little bongwater bitch so much because hed have to explain hes kind of his dad and itd be awkward

so. we have dante in the role of both suleiman And the witch of the wastes vis a vis being greeds ex, but i think the other part of the witch of the wastes (the "gets more sympathetic as the movie progresses" part) i want to hand to lust, because pulling from her 03 arc she would work very well as someone greed knows whos initially working for the court but gets abandoned and made an example of and then switches sides. also her getting all her power sapped and reverted to her real age would mean Old Lady Lust which would rule

markl is ling (duh) but because i dont think ling would give a shit about a random old guy stumbling into his house, the parts of his character that are initially suspicious of sophie i am going to instead bestow upon. dolcetto, greeds Rescue Dog. aka he was cursed by a witch into the form of a dog and greed was like oh sick a talking dog and dolcetto was too pickupable to escape his fate

martel is also there. talking snake martel. her and dolcetto are there to provide sarcastic banter while bido loses his mind

i initially didnt know how to fit roa in but then i realized i needed a turniphead standin. roa cursed into the form of a cow but he CANT talk and everyone thinks hes just a weird ass magic cow who keeps showing up to help but then the power of friendship turns him human at the end and dolcetto and martel are like okay now how come we cant do that.

i realize ive barely said anything about bido in this post about my au where bido is the main character. but to be fair. i feel like just saying "sophie is bido" gets the entire gist across. humble townsperson with big beautiful brown eyes is transformed against their will into something that makes it impossible to live their life as normal, theyre short with a big nose and wear a long skirt and like to fuck with people now that theyve got nothing to lose, they start working for a weird sexy guy who hates the government wears tight pants and has a shiny black monster form. Is not that complicated

i am now rotating the mental image of lust chuffing back a fat dart on the sofa while immediately outside the window dublith is on fire

[rivangel]

Hey Gee 💙

OMG Congrats on 2500 followers!! You deserve this so much!!!

May I request some smutty canonverse Levihan [no surprise here, of course ;) ] with:

[ TENSION ]  one muse is patching up the other’s injuries which leads to intense eye contact,  lingering touches and them finally crashing their lips against each other’s. 

No need to say you can add hurt/comfort to the equation 😏

Thank you so much!!

Sending love & best wishes your way 🫂💙

val frjigrjtgitjer that kitty levi gif was watching me the whole time i was writing (amazing moral support). thank you so much!!! (hurt comfort will be served)

as a general note, sorry i've dropped off the face of the earth a little. ive been writing a shit ton, but because my mental health has been utter garbage lol

[ TENSION ]  one muse is patching up the other’s injuries which leads to intense eye contact, lingering touches and them finally crashing their lips against each other’s. 

//canonverse, after the reiss (fatass titan) fight, banter, nb/afab hange, smut at the end, some description of minor injury (including stitches) | 1.0k

participate in my event here!

“Right. Let me guess, you were planning on doing it ‘later’, but then you heard me coming and that’s why that shit is spilled everywhere.”

Hange’s office is clean, by their standards. It's their lab that's suffered in Hange's stubborn haste to dissect the Reiss family's secrets despite the nasty injury they sustained when fighting Kenny's squad.

They finally came up to their office this afternoon to catch up on routine paper-pushing. A few books scattered unceremoniously across their desk, the organized mess it usually is, on top of the inkwell that needs refilling.

They sit on the couch pushed up against the side wall, a lantern and the gutted contents of a first-aid kid laid out on the coffee table in front of them.

Hange themself doesn't look too bad, besides frazzled to see him here. He can smell that they showered earlier, on top of their fluffy hair in its un-brushed, undone state. One strap of their camisole has fallen off their shoulder, the side bandaged where their shoulder meets their chest.

Finally they let out a big sigh. "Maybe. The question is, did you come to embarrass me, or embarrass me and make sure I don't die from my clearly fatal injury."

Levi is nonplussed. “Infections are fatal.”

They groan. “Then I’m pretty sure I’m fine.”

“Pretty sure, huh?”

Levi pushes off the doorway, and shuts it on his way over to them.

Them, resigned to their fate, scoots to make room so he can make a place at the table to sit down.

He begins picking out the supplies he needs: gauze, tape, and disinfectant solution. It's not complicated, but he knows what it is to see it as a chore.

"Alright," he murmurs. "Come here."

"Fine fine," they titter.

They sit next to him, angled a little so he has easy access to the injury. Though it'd be easier, they balance their weight not on the table, but above his knee.

He doesn't point it out. Doesn't want to. Everyone's been busy reeling and planning for the expedition to seal Wall Maria once and for all. He'd be lying if he said he was just wandering the halls and decided to show up.

Their eyes meet as he places his hands on Hange's waist, and hooks his fingers under the hems to get it off, a little slower than necessary. With the knowledge that their arm is sore—though they won't show it—he braces their bare bicep as he peels the stretchy material off and over their head. He folds it neatly before resting it beside him.

They're binding their chest. Knowing Hange, it's practically guaranteed they haven't taken a break in a while. And them knowing Levi, they've got the bandages halfway unraveled before he joins them. Their fingers brush more than once. Hange's are warm.

That done, their heavy breasts spill out from the material. They try to mask their relief as always, but they're easy to read.

He rolls the bandages up with efficient neatness, intentionally ignoring their nudity despite the tension between them growing palpable. He's not finished yet.

The wound sits just underneath their pronounced collarbones, where their sun-kissed skin is a touch more pale. His palm lays not on their shoulder, but the space between their breasts to brace them as he peels off the old tape, along with the gauze.

Not too bad. The black squiggle of stitches is surrounding by a mild pink, it's healing, and not radiating any heat indicative of infection.

Their gazes again meet. There's a gleam to Hange's brown eyes that make it hard to break. "Not bad."

"Is that a compliment?"

"Nope," he lies, just to be coy.

"Mhm... It's okay. I see how much you care."

He worries the inside of his cheek with his teeth as he spreads the gel and tapes the gauze. Their touch is creeping up his inner thigh, but no closer, warming up desire deep in his core.

He puts the supplies away. Just as the kit clicks shut, for the first time he can't swallow a small huff as their hand locks on his belt buckle. They both know he's hard.

It's when he's finished up and pretending to inspect his work for mistakes that Hange leans in, their lips brushing up against his neck. He brings his hand up, carding his fingers through their hair, pushing them to kiss his neck properly. His eyes flutter. It really has been a while since they've found the time to be alone like this, and it shows in the both of them's barely restrained advances.

His other hand slides up their waist and closes on their breast, half-stroking their hard nipple, half-simply appreciating its weight and warmth.

It feels like they come to an agreement without speaking a word, ending in Levi pulling them closer. The sound of his belt buckle clinking is loud, and his whine as their teeth scrape his neck.

"Hange," he whispers on bated breath.

"Levi."

That's the breaking point. They drag him forward by his hair and crashes their lips together, immediately parting for their tongue to lap hungrily into his mouth. He groans.

That's not enough for long, and Hange throws their arms around him, bringing them both falling backwards onto the couch. They moan down his throat as his weight comes crashing down.

They barely manage to separate for the second it takes for him to tear his shirt over his head, or the shift apart to get Hange's fucking pants off.

They toss them away, while Levi's already kissing his way down their body with just enough pressure to tease, but with none of the patience he's usually capable of maintaining. Not with the way Hange's pulling his hair, guiding his head down.

He skips their thighs entirely, instead hoisting their legs over his shoulders so he can practically taste the heat from their wet pussy, their swollen clit peeking from between their lips.

He groans, and goes down to taste them for himself.

levihan's masterlist • main masterlist

[alitgblog]

s9 vol 7 thoughts: ah fuck this season has its problems but I don't think I've ever been this conflicted over love interests in a while

STEFAN 😍😍😍 literally I have to change my top five islanders now like I'm so sorry evan. AND he's an artist?? And it's my own fault for already buying into the second chance romance bit before he even showed up but like he's not ugly? omg stop. oof it's tough, like, shit I'm so sorry Natasha and Hamish I don't know who to pick in this love square they've got

him illustrating his sister's book for his sisters?? 🥺 I may be folding for that alone

I like Cassius' design. I like it more than Theo's but he does remind me of Liam unfortunately. and also he's looking like my MC's cousin this season so I gotta pass this time but makes it easier for me. but he does seem great, I like him and he's sweet without being boring (so far), but I also kinda wish we had an LI that gave us more pushback/banter? bc I picked a few options that disagreed with his whole thing about love/fate and he was just like "yeah fs that's a cool opinion too" which OK I get it he's nice but I'm just kinda sick of all the Islanders being so agreeable to MC. I guess Marshall is supposed to be the banter-y one but I have problems with him being here so I wish it was Cassius instead.

that being said they're fucking teasing me with this response to why are you here though

also at some point Cassius calls his season boring and I thought it was funny fusebox was dunking on themselves bc I didn't finish s7 either but no he was just referring to the fact he got dumped quickly.

I'm glad Lyle is back, like I'd be upset if an islander was only brought on for a date and then left, so I'm not mad at this even though he was momentarily mad at MC (and that became nothing?? like just take out that plot point) and i dont really care hes only coded in for Kat now. I'm just more upset bc they've literally already done this in S8 bc your LI has to pick between Sienna and Bea when they get "dumped" and then Sienna comes back in Casa.

And then we get to marshall and I don't even wanna talk about it. And ive made separate posts and reblogged some opinions on that so ill just add that also i hate his orange outfit. him dressing all white and ozzy all black was peak I hate he's out here in orange smh.. anyway so that'll be easy for me to not pick this season

although we get this and I thought it was funny like OK fine you got me marshall

he says it with a smile too not even angry/sarcastic

then after that I honestly don't remember what happens apart from way too many challenges all at once and the whole Stefan storyline. I wanted him to be a little upset initially bc it did seem like MC had some misunderstanding and then left him so quickly like I just wanted a little bit of angst where he came in with the gameplan of wanting to give her a piece of his mind and was on the show bc he couldn't contact her any other way, before he realized he was being silly and just was happy to see her again. like if anything, the story beats that Lyle goes through being snarky at mc in episode 1 then immediately asking for forgiveness by episode 3 makes more sense for Stefan but nah instead it just feels like another perfect li loyal route (which is fine but I like some tension in the story). like we can still have the terrace scene where he explains things though.

also if I saw this on love island? I'd be voting for them without question the angst is so good

OK I'm looking thru my screenshots and am now remembering I was upset at raunchy races for being subjective again. notable offenses:

straight out the gate, most creative boy and Kelly says "craft brewing is creative" gtfo as if it's not Chen the set designer (and anyone who brought back Lyle from the dates, I'd imagine musician over craft beer brewer as well)

Kat somehow doesn't win best dancer

I love Kelly and sure, biggest foodie but not when my mc is a chef smh at least in S6 the dialogue would change slightly with your occupation lmao

the physical challenge is OK but I just think it doesn't belong in casa. like on the actual show where they spend real days in casa it's fine but for the game that has to shorten it bc the volumes definitely don't add up to the length of real love island, it feels like a waste. if anything, the real villa needed a physical challenge rather than continuing to do variations on excess baggage type games.

someone help Kelly out with the mask pls

anyway the OG islander to visit instead of a postcard is interesting. I think a postcard makes the most sense but bc the game has to fabricate drama while also probably wanting most of the guys to still look good since the villa is like 75% love interests for MC, maybe it makes sense?

I think having it be MC's partner doesn't give us a lot of drama unless MC wants to bring up Stefan. Finn and Hamish could be interesting whether you're pursuing them or not. Like under the guise of them checking in on their partner, but they just care about MC and are asking her not to forget them. Most likely i think it'll be Kat's partner and he'll make up some lies about what's happening in the villa.

anyway a little rough first few weeks of the season but I'm enjoying at least this episode, surprisingly, so we'll seeeeee.... I think the seasons generally gets worse post casa so I'm not betting on this being a good season overall, but I'm not calling it a flop just yet.

[oscar-piastri]

short scenes of a love story

iv. life update

On the team bus, players were either immersed in their music or engrossed in card games, each finding their own way to focus before the day's match. At the back, a group, including Cassy, was engaged in casual conversation, still getting to know one another.

Having been with RCT for a few weeks now, Cassy was growing more comfortable in the team's masculine environment. She'd quickly adapted to the playful banter, often reciprocating with her own witty comebacks. Melvyn's advice had been invaluable: she'd gently tease the players back or threaten to post embarrassing moments on social media. She also grew close to Charles, mainly because as a captain he took it to heart to defend her as best and put his players back in their place when Cassy was too shy to do it; they actually quickly created a brother/sister dynamic. Obviously, as a package deal came the friendship with Baptiste, Gabin and Melvyn.

“So, how’s the apartment hunting going?” Baptiste asked, drawing a groan from Cassy.

“A disaster.” She lamented. “Everything is so expensive here! Landlords are hesitant because I've only been on the job for a few weeks, they’d rather wait a few months to be sure I’ll be able to really pay rent” She started her rant. “Most places I can afford are in less-than-desirable neighborhoods. I’m staying at a family friend’s house right now, they don’t look like they’ll kick me out but you know… I would love to be on my own”

“Oh I totally understand!” Melvyn added to the conversation. “When I arrived straight from Toulouse I had to go back to my dad’s house. Didn’t had the time to go hunting for a place, so my dad had to help”

Cassy leaned back, showing to her friends how frustrated she was “Was probably stupid I didn’t think about this before actually moving here”

She sensed the boys feeling sorry for her, and tried to reassure them and also herself when she was interrupted by her stomach growling like a beast. “Oh sorry” she blushed before reaching for her bag and taking a small bag with a cookie inside. “I didn’t have time to eat this morning, I was running everywhere to visit a place.” She took a bite and felt all the stress leave her body “Couldn’t resist the cookies from the cook when I got there to catch the bus. Probably my favorite cookies” 

“Suit yourself, hope you can appreciate them for us” Gabin said, eyeing the cookie. 

“Yeah I’d kill for one” Baptiste added, the two boys couldn't help but express their envy, making Cassy eat her cookie a bit faster.

“You know, if you ever need help when moving in, I’ll be totally ready to help” Melvyn offered, turning to face Cassy.

“Oooooh” Gabin whistled as he playfully tickled Melvyn. “What’s going on with you, uh? Loverboy?”

Now it was time for Melvyn to have his cheeks turn to a pale red in embarrassment. “Stop this ‘loverboy’ crap,” he protested, pushing Gabin’s head away. “May I point to the fact that I have always gotten along great with every community manager from every team I’ve been to. I just want to make sure Cassy is well integrated and that she knows she can count on us.” He said, trying to defend himself as Charles chimed in, reassuring Melvyn that the teasing was all in good fun, especially since he was the one of the recent additions to the team, just a few months before Cassy.

Feeling a bit overwhelmed by the playful banter, Cassy seized the moment when the bus stopped near the stadium. The team had a tradition of walking the last stretch to connect with fans. She grabbed her bag, announcing she'd capture content of everyone exiting the bus, and made a quick exit.

As she stepped off the bus, she took a deep breath, grateful for the chance to escape the confusing conversation and focus on the upcoming match.

[hangovercurse]

The Things We Can’t Tell Pete About vi

You and Colson grapple with being “just friends.”

Colson X Reader

Warnings: Cursing

Word Count: 1871

| i | ii | iii | iv | v |

masterlist

Hi friend

You were in the studio working on editing one of your songs when you got the text. You hated it, but you smiled automatically when his name popped onto your screen.

Hi friend

The past few days had been weird, but necessary. Colson ended up staying at Pete’s apartment the next night too, so you had plenty of time to figure out how “friends” worked. Unsurprisingly, you hated it. But it was the only way to keep Colson close to you, so you’d take it.

I’m bored

I thought you were friend?

Haha

But seriously you should entertain me

As friends

I’m in the studio rn

U can take a break

What would we do if I took a break?

You tried really hard not to flirt, but it came so naturally. But maybe if you convinced yourselves that you were just friends, it would happen. Because that’s how things work.

Lunch?

I’m hungry

I thought you were bored?

That joke is lame

:)

Will u pls go out to lunch with me

As friends

Hmmmmm

I suppose I could think about it

You sighed, saving the audio project and shutting the computer down. You hadn’t eaten all day and spending time with Colson wasn’t the worst way to spend your lunch break.

Y/N I will find you and drag you out of that studio

You don’t even know where I am

Where do you wanna go?

I could find out…

Whatever u want

Mediterranean? There’s a cute place right by me I’ve been wanting to check out.

You sent him the address, asking him to meet you in 10 minutes.

It’s a date

Wait

No

Not a date

Like I’ll see you then

You laughed as the texts came through your phone, shaking your head. You headed out of the building, walking towards the small restaurant. You weren’t exactly dressed in “lunch clothes,” because you had expected to stay in the studio all day, but you would survive.

You got in line at the blue painted restaurant, thankful that it wasn’t too long. You waited a few minutes before a familiar voice spoke from your side. “Now what’s a pretty girl like you doing all by herself?”

You smiled, turning to Colson. “Waiting for her friend to show up.”

He raised his eyebrows, a smirk on his face. “I hope your friend is as hot as you are.” He chuckled.

You rolled your eyes, “not even close.”

Luckily Colson understood you were joking and he laughed with you. “How have you been?” He asked, “did they catch the guy breaking into apartments?”

“I’ve been good, working.” You nodded, “yeah, they caught him. He broke into this police officer’s place while he was home.”

Colson huffed in amusement, “talk about bad luck.”

“Right? I mean, I’m glad they caught him but, I mean, what are the odds?” You moved forward in the line, reaching the hostess stand.

“Two please.” Colson asked, flashing the girl a smile. You bit your tongue to hide the scowl that almost instinctively came to your face.

The hostess was young and no doubt attractive. She batted her eyelashes towards the tall man, not even acknowledging you. “What’s the name?”

You furrowed your eyebrows as Colson answered, wondering why she would need his name if she was taking you to the table. “And what’s the number?” She asked sweetly. If you were drinking water you would have spit it out.

Colson blushed slightly as you stood in shock. “Um-I’m.” He looked at you as if to say “I’m here with someone” but then he must’ve realized that he wasn’t technically on a date. “You’re lovely, but I’m not interested.” He muttered out, an awkward look on his face.

You were trying your hardest not to look pissed off, because if you looked pissed off then the lie you and Colson have been telling each other about being just friends would be exposed.

The girl looked you over, eyes raking up and down you with a disgusted look on her face. You felt very self-conscious suddenly, your head turning towards the floor in embarrassment. Colson noticed and cleared his throat, “our table?”

The girl didn’t speak a word as she grabbed two menus and led you to the table. “Your waiter will be with you shortly.” She spit out, anger on her face. Your heart was beating very fast, but you couldn’t tell if it was from anger or sadness.

Colson eyed you from across the table as you played with the hair tie on your wrist. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You spoke too fast to convince him, your quiet demeanor also giving you away.

He sighed, his foot kicking yours lightly and pulling your focus up to him. “Okay, you just seem a little uncomfortable.”

You huffed, “yeah, well, having girls look at me like I’m the scum of the earth does that to a person.”

He frowned, “You know she has, like, nothing on you, right?”

A small blush found your cheeks, and you looked down at your hands again. “You can’t say stuff like that.” You muttered.

“What? Friends say that stuff to each other! I’m trying to make you feel better.” His smile told you he knew what he had done, but he didn’t care.

You sighed, “yeah but you can’t say that to me.”

Colson gaped dramatically, “why not?”

“Because it’s different coming from you.” You laughed. “Why didn’t you give her your number?” You asked, curious for his answer.

He shrugged, “wasn’t interested. Guess I have high expectations.”

You rolled your eyes, “it’s not because I’m here, right?”

Colson let out a sigh, “N-“

He started to speak but was interrupted by the waiter at your table, “Welcome to Shuka, my name is Oliver, I’ll be your server today. Can I get you guys started with something to drink?”

“I’ll get a water, please.” You said, smiling at the man. Colson raised an eyebrow at you. “I have to go back to work after this.”

He chuckled, scanning the menu, “can I get a Nitro?” Oliver nodded, sending you both smiles before heading back to the kitchen.

You sent Colson a look, expecting him to continue your previous conversation. Instead, he continued to read through the menu. “Do you know what you want? I’m thinking about the Shak-Shakshu-.” He tried to pronounce the name of the dish but was failing.

You giggled, finding the dish on the menu, “Shakshuka.” You told him, “and I haven’t even looked.” You scanned through the menu in your hands, reading the names of the various dishes. Colson took to studying you, a small smile on his face.

“It’s not because you’re here. It’s because I’m genuinely not interested in anyone else.” He said out of the blue. Confusion flashed across your face before you understood what he was referring to. You took in a breath, trying to figure out how to respond. “I know I shouldn’t tell you that, but I just think you needed to know.”

You smiled to yourself, “I don’t mind, I just- it makes it harder to convince myself this isn’t a date.”

Colson nodded, “this is not a date. We are just two friends having a friendly lunch. As friends.” He was trying to convince himself too.

“Right. Friendly friends. Two people who are just friends.” You said, exaggerating the word “friends”. Awkwardness hung in the air for a few moments before you both started laughing.

You fell into the familiar pattern of conversation that seemed to come naturally to you both. When your meals arrived, you were both very excited. “Can I try some of yours?” You asked, sending him the most convincing puppy dog eyes you could muster. He chuckled, placing some of the poached egg onto his fork and moving it towards you. You rolled your eyes at the cliché but smiled anyways, letting him feed you. Your eyes widened in shock “that’s so good!”

He nodded, swallowing his food. “My turn.” He said, reaching over and plucking up a falafel from your plate with his fork. Once he finished eating he smiled at you, “you have excellent taste. You’re picking the restaurants every time now.”

You raised an eyebrow, a sly smile on your face. “So we’re going to have more of these friend lunches?” You asked.

“Duh. We’re friends. This is what friends do.”

You giggled, “I don’t hear about you and Pete going out for lunch together.”

The man chuckled, eyes closing for a moment. “If it’ll make you feel better I’ll take Pete to lunch one of these days.” That made you giggle even harder, shaking your head.

 Neither of you finished your meals, packing them into to-go boxes to eat later. When Oliver brought the check over, you were very flustered. Colson automatically reached to pay but you grabbed his wrist, “we’re on separate checks.” You told the server. Oliver nodded, moving to fix it until Colson spoke up.

“I got it, it’s not a problem.” You sent him a look. “I asked you to lunch, I pay.”

“Friends let their friends pay for themselves.” You muttered, moving your hand from his wrist.

He rolled his eyes, “you can pay next time.” Smiling smugly, he handed his credit card to Oliver, who was very confused. “Relax. I’m just being nice.”

You sighed, pouting slightly. “It’s already hard enough and then you make it worse by flirting and paying and- ugh.” You cut yourself off, frustrated.

Colson clenched his jaw, letting out a hard breath through his nose. “I know, I’m sorry. This isn’t exactly easy for me either.” You nodded, feeling slightly embarrassed at your small outburst. “We can do this.” He said, confidently. If only you could feel as confident as he sounded.

Once Oliver came back with the card and receipts, you both left the restaurant. You hadn’t noticed the cameras as you walked down the street with Colson, the conversation returning to light banter and jokes, but they noticed you.

Colson walked you all the way back to the studio you were working at, insisting on going with you all the way inside. “I just wanna see where you work.” He claimed, but you insisted it was just like every other studio.

You got into the elevator to ride up to the fourth floor, where your space was. Colson stepped in with you, a smile on his face. You sighed, pressing the button and waiting for the elevator to close.

“Hey Y/N?” He spoke as the doors began to shut. You looked up to him, eyebrow raised in question. The doors closed and instead of responding, Colson leaned down, pressing his lips to yours.

You kissed him back, hands cupping his face. You heard the elevator beep as you passed the second floor, and then the third floor. He pulled away, smile on his face.

You took in a deep breath, “I thought you…”

“Fuck it.” He muttered, standing up straight. You smiled, biting your lip. “But we’re not hiding this from Pete. We’re just… testing the waters.”

You hummed in agreement as the elevator doors opened, stepping into the hallway and leading him to your studio.

[keilemlucent]

lavender latte: viii

(M (for now!)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

chapter 1   ||   chapter 2  ||   chapter 3   ||  chapter 4   ||   chapter 5   ||  chapter 6   ||  chapter 7  ||  chapter 9  ||

masterlist

word count: ~4.7k

realities, huh. 

warnings: descriptions of blood and bodily injury, post-traumatic symptoms, panic/anxiety attacks 

----

oof. wow. here it is, part one of the BIG boy chapter. please mind the warnings on this one!! trauma and post-traumatic symptoms are a big theme in this chapter and the next. 

as an author, these have been some of the harder, more vulnerable chapters to create and i hope that the writing shows this  :’’’^) all that said, enjoy :’^) 

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Keigo was fucked up.

Or he had fucked up.

It was hard to tell the specifics of his predicament, considering how hard he’d hit his head.

 ‘Hawks’ was known for his speed, his skill, and his ability to finish fights off before they even had a chance to truly start. He prided himself on his prowess, the product of his own diligence and meticulous training. Normally, Keigo kept to these high standards without fail and with faltering. 

On the rare occasion he did get injured, it was usually simple scrapes or bruises.

Except, sometimes time, his shortcomings created much more than scratches. 

 His left arm was twisted the wrong way, wrenched from its socket. His skull ached, hair sticking to the back of his neck and cold.

Keigo blinked slowly, vision tilting and blurry against the asphalt he’d crashed onto. He’d sent his feathers to finish off what was left of the fight, knowing that he was, bodily, down for the count.

It hadn’t started as a large fight, notably. It shouldn’t have gotten so bad. The first alert he’d received just made it seem like petty burglary. Quickly after arriving on the scene, it escalated into an entire firefight spanning several blocks. 

He’d been one of the first heroes there, naturally. It wasn’t hard to disarm and pin most of the villains down, but quickly, things got out of hand. Figures forming from the afternoon’s shadows, quickly turning the simple de-escalation into an all-out brawl. 

Keigo pushed himself from the filthy ground, coughing up spittle and blood on the blacktop below. It wasn’t from an internal injury, he knew, just a bitten tongue and cheek that made the drippings of his mouth pink and cloudy. 

He sat up, forcing himself to his feet as more heroes arrived, finishing the job out of sheer numbers. Mentally, he cursed his mistakes and his stupor. The media circus and bureaucratic bullshit he was undoubtedly going to have to deal with made him audibly groan. Keigo could handle pain without question, but his least favorite parts of his job were the nuts and bolts of it all.

 Maybe it was the head trauma or the fact he’d just gotten sloppy lately, but Keigo didn’t even notice the oddly large amount of shattered glass at the scene or the shadows that loomed and weaved without rest nearby, though they never moved to the offensive. 

...

You sat on your couch, boot propped up (as usual), and a pillow hugged in your arms. 

Typically, you weren’t one to watch the news, but the moment you’d seen the alert from your phone about ‘large scale villain attack- Hawks and Miruko on the scene!, you’d rushed to turn on any channel that had coverage.

Which, creating a sense of dread in your gut, was most of them.

You watched the varying camera angles of the fight, squeezing the pillow tightly in your arms like the pressure would comfort you.

 The fear and terror was such a contrast to the absolute bliss of the first couple of weeks of you and Keigo’s relationship.

During that time, your text-based communication hardly changed, still ambiently throughout the day and including the exchange of many memes and well-placed photographs and selfies. 

The messages had changed, somewhat, truth be told. There was a sweetness to it, soft, warm, and new. The bantering never stopped, but woven within each of your words were small, tender lines that were new to you both.

Wonderfully new.

You found that Keigo was particularly affectionate over text, but it was nothing compared to him in-person.

You hadn’t really expected him to be clingy. Not based on the way he texted and talked previously and how he was generally portrayed by the public.

But god, was he.

He came over several other nights, always bearing food, drinks, and a bright smile. He wouldn’t even think of settling for the evening in the comfort of your couch (or bed) until you’d been showered in kisses and teasing touches, always seeming hungry, maybe even starved. 

He was careful, however, to never go too far or touch too much. 

When you two would finally settle on the couch, usually finding yourself strewn over each other in some way, Keigo would continue heaping on affection in any way he could, subtle or otherwise. You returned the gestures, giving your own too.

You craved the heat of his body in the same way he hungered for yours. 

You found that, as the nights would wear on, he tended to slip his rough hands under any top you might be wearing, settling his grip on your sides or back. He’d either press and massage, or just ambiently draw shapes. At first, you thought it was some sort of sexual preamble, expecting his touch to drift higher and hungrier.

 It took you a night or two of it to realize it wasn’t like that at all— 

Keigo just craved contact.

It all made sense, though your revelation surprised you a bi at first. 

One night, with his head in your lap, you had simply hummed out, “I never thought you’d be touch-starved.”

Keigo hummed as you ran your nails around the shell of his ear, “Mind elaborating on that one?”

“You’re always touching me when we’re together,” You replied simply, heart squeezing at the little twinges of anxiety you could see forming around Keigo’s eyes. “Not that it's a bad thing— I really love all of it, it’s just sweet. I didn’t think you’d be so affectionate and touchy. I would dare to say, it's cute.”

That comment turned Keigo’s cheeks bright red, though you hardly got much of a chance to tease him about it before he was on you with another wave of soft kisses and squeezes.

Maybe, you were a little touch-starved yourself.

And definitely, surely, falling into each other simply and sweetly felt like heaven. 

 ...

 But all of that syrupy goodness was gone, the flavor of it stale and rotten.

All you could focus on was your TV screen as Hawks was being pulled from an alleyway. The camera angle was poor, the quality shaky, but the picture was clear as day to you.

Keigo was walking, barely, most of his weight bared into Miruko’s side. He looked half-dead when he first emerged, limbs twisted painfully and face downcast.

He brightened up a moment later. You weren’t even sure that anyone would’ve caught the change in his expression if they didn’t know him as intimately as you did.

 Your chest tightened painfully when he gave his most dashing smile, pearly white teeth stained with blood that was rushing from a wide cut on his forehead. The juxtaposition of him being purely fucked up mixed with the shining expressions he was flashing at the media made your stomach churn with dread.

He’s hurt.

And it seems bad.

You chewed your bottom lip until it ached. 

The newscast kept playing, showing the wreckage of the scene, all of the hurt civilians— it was a few cities over, but you swore you could hear the sirens just outside of your window.

You dug around for your phone, typing out a message to Keigo, fingers shaking as you did.

 [you]: hey i saw about the attack? how are you doing?

 Texting him was the bare minimum, wasn’t it? If you could, you’d call. But based on the way he was reported to have been taken to a nearby hospital, he wouldn’t be answering his phone any time soon. 

It didn’t feel like enough, but what more could you do?

You felt uncomfortably powerless.

A very lucid, perhaps cruel part of your mind rang out amid your quiet panic:

Get used to it.

 You fell back into the cushions, unable to turn off the screen, though unable to do anything other than watch and churn. 

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 Keigo didn’t have a great recollection of the day's events after sustaining his fairly significant head injury, not to mention the shattering of the bones in his right arm and a few in his left leg. Not to mention his sorely dislocated shoulder. 

Pain blotted things out memory, he knew.

Hospital trips were few and far between for Keigo, but in the unfortunate circumstance he was stuck and strung up with wires and IV tubes, he was more than well taken care of. 

He was aware, somewhat, of the Commission’s hold on the scruff of his neck, though complacent in it. His good attitude and impeccable, nearly-perfect performance earned him the best medical care they could provide. 

Some sweet girl, a student from the west, was brought in to heal his wounds. Healing quirks of any significance were rare, so it was always interesting to see how they worked and manifested.

The girl’s quirk came at the price of any energy his body had, but he was completely patched up in a number of minutes. Fatigue be damned, he was happy to be quickly and easily put back together. He made sure to put on his best camera-ready smile as the girl traced symbols on the backs of his hands, fingers shaking and shyly smiling.

She was probably starstruck, all things considered. Meanwhile, Keigo was exhausted and out of it.

All through it, all of it, the actual fight and subsequent medical nightmare, he had slipped into a far different mindset than the one he’d been occupying for the last couple of weeks. 

Consequently, he hadn’t thought of you at all. 

You didn’t even cross his mind. 

Keigo could’ve blamed it on hitting his head, but that wouldn’t be entirely fair or truthful. 

All the same, the absence would burn later. 

...

Keigo flashed a dopey smile to the door of his hospital room when he spotted a familiar puff of bright yellow hair. 

Despite his stupor, familiarity still resonated. Besides, his PA stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the greyscale scrubs and antiseptic. 

“Akane! I knew you’d never be far in my time of need,” Keigo relaxed against the hospital bed he was still resigned to. He was to be discharged as soon as possible for the bevy of press reports he would had to complete. Not to mention the mountains of paperwork he’d probably have to file and sign. 

Akane kept a stern but humored expression as she shooed a nurse out of Keigo’s room. She was shorter than most, face cut with sharp angles and high ridges. They were dressed immaculately as always, a well-tailored black suit with crisp-looking dress shoes. All professionalism, trained and honed by the Commission in a similar way to Keigo, though it was implicitly recognized. 

“You’ve got a press conference in thirty with Miruko,” Akane didn’t answer his greeting, though Keigo could tell by their quick nod that it was at least acknowledged. They rolled a small suitcase next to the bed. “Extra hero costume in there. I called your normal hair and makeup, they’ll be in a few minutes after I leave. It’s been a while since you’ve been this injured in a fight, so put on a good show for everyone, won’t you?”

Akane’s sarcasm always brought a smile to his face, contrasting so starkly with their well-pressed hems and seams. 

Keigo quickly sat up, dropping his feet to the cold linoleum below, “Always a show.”

He quickly began to re-robe into his new garments, tired mind returning to its trained roots. 

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 You had been watching the newscast for hours, probably (definitely) against your best interest.

You’d have plenty of time to kick yourself for it later.

You couldn’t stop watching the repetitive footage and bland media, despite the report that ‘Hawks’ was safe, well and receiving treatment. 

Until you saw him, you couldn’t rest—- Or that’s what it felt like, anyway.

The image of him bloodied felt painfully etched into the forefront of your mind. The contours and highlights of Keigo’s wounds were uncomfortably bright and hot, nestled next to swirling images of your own. Uncomfortably vivid sensations and colors of your own stitched-up wounds that once wept blood themselves.

If you steeped in it all too deeply or for too long, your breathing would quicken, memories unbridled in the way they sucked down.

Sweat dripping down your brow, you willed your breath even and slowly despite how you definitely were having trouble handling what you were experiencing. 

As the evening wore into night, you remained wired.

You convinced yourself, despite the thorns that ran deep, you would be able to rest once you saw Keigo well. 

Eventually, there was an announcement for a late press conference, a conclusion to the media frenzy.

You knew you’d stay up for it, no matter how long it took to air. You knew he was fine, it had been confirmed over and over throughout the coverage, but it wasn’t enough.

You just need to see him.

Then you’ll be fine.  

Keigo is fine.

No amount of reassurance comforted you. You were sinking too deeply in your throes, ungrounded and crackling within your own fragile mind. 

The memories of blood and gore and hot, white fear rolled over you, suffocatingly close to how you’d felt less than a month prior. 

On the cold cement floor of the tea shop, you had Keigo’s feather, the knowingness that he would be there.

Yet, now?

You were alone in your dim apartment. 

No Keigo.

No villains.

Just you and your skull. 

 You had to pull yourself back when you felt your quirk begin to activate with your adrenaline, thankful for the low stimulation of your apartment, and the pillow in your arms being exchanged for the plushie Keigo had gifted you. You forced yourself to ground, counting your breaths, and holding yourself together. 

(Maybe the trauma of your own run-in was deeper than you wanted to acknowledge.)

You pushed the thought aside as the live footage of the press conference began. It was better to compartmentalize it all, wasn’t it? Why not shove it back where it was easier to not deal with? You’d get a therapist or something.

If Keigo is okay, you’ll be okay. 

The press conference decor was coated with the diamond insignia of the Public Safety Hero Commission, along with a few sponsors and nearby police departments. Local heroes and police officers sat around microphones with plastic waterbottles, ringing around the focal points of the events:

Keigo and Miruko. 

Seeing him, perfectly in uniform and switched-on didn’t make you feel better.

If anything, it made you feel worse. 

Before everything, when he was just your regular you pined after, you saw and heard of him doing heroic duties all the time.

But, it was different when Keigo was your partner, yet living an entirely different reality from yours. In the safety of your apartment, and formerly the teashop, that line of difference was somewhat blurred, or, it at least appeared to be.

But while Keigo was shiny and dazzling, charismatic and blunt as ever on the stage of the conference, the contrast turned polar. 

As there was a jeer of laughter, Keigo grinning as Miruko clapped a hand on his back, your stomach rolled. 

Seeing him fine and good-as-new wasn’t soothing.

It was like pouring moonshine on a brush fire. 

Every moment of the conference highlighted the separation between the two of you, the feeling of fear and now loss so strongly in your mind, it started to taste like the tannin of a rotten wine . 

The concoction was made even viler as the memories of injuries didn’t fade or falter.

Your chest ached.

 The press conference droned on in front of you, but none of the content of it registered. It was all sickly background noise to your own pains

You pressed the plushie against your stomach, ignoring the phantom stabs of rancid-yellow that traced up your leg from your booted foot. 

...

“From what we can surmise, there’s activity of several different villain groups in this area that are connected. This incident is related.”

...

You were getting to yourself, you had been all evening. The problem was you couldn’t climb out— 

Not if you weren’t honest and self-aware.

Too bad you were actively spiraling away from anything even close to the latter and former. 

...

“There is much we don’t know at this time, but it is clear there must be further investigation into the roots of the attack.”

...

You recognized, even then, that Keigo was going to be in harm's way because of his job, constantly. He was always in danger.

It just felt different, having to see it play out in front of you, isolated from him in all ways except the glimmer he showed the cameras and the gore he bore prior. 

The absences burned. 

 Your gaze moved to your phone, the device still dormant. 

With a thick, sticky swallow, you resigned yourself to sitting back into the cushions of your couch, spiraling and numbing as you had been hours. 

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 Following the press conference, Keigo had one priority— 

Sleep.

Despite Akane’s nagging that they ‘really needed to talk to him’, Keigo was exhausted after being healed and wanted nothing more than to go home and rest for as long as he could make himself lay still. 

Maybe, he could’ve handled a patrol (if he had had anything significant of his wings left), but he could not stand the idea of dealing with bureaucratic bullshit in his wrung-out state. 

At this admission, Akane sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“Fine, but you need to come to the office as soon as possible,” Akane seemed exasperated after such a long evening (now night), of dealing with the attack. “Seriously, or your publicist is going to kick both of our asses.”

Keigo didn’t ponder too far into the topic of whatever Akane needed him for. Far too mentally wiped-out to bother with what was undoubtedly bureaucratic bullshit. 

He rolled his eyes, sending a feather forward to trigger the automatic doors ahead, “I’ll be sure to come in— It’s not like I don’t have a backlog of paperwork to finish.”

“That too,” Akane sighed, pausing outside of the doors, just dimly lit under the lip of the entrance of the building. “Feel better, quick. And please, stay safe.”

Keigo raised an eyebrow, “You know I always am. I’ll see you around tomorrow, bright and early.”

Keigo flew away so quickly, he didn't notice Akane’s pinched expression and set jaw and she waved goodbye. 

 ...

Nearly featherless and on the edge of total exhaustion, Keigo dragged himself back to his penthouse. His mind and body ached, his thoughts messy and disorganized. 

It wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar state, though he didn’t get to it often. 

He had ample training to not get like this. The fuzziness he was clouded by should’ve been tossed aside easily; he blamed his own overcast on the healing he received.

(And, not that he, perhaps, had more on his mind as of late) 

More on his mind meant more to forget. 

It wasn’t until he toweled off from a quick shower that he even looked at his phone. 

It wasn’t until he saw your single text that you even came to his mind.

Keigo called you nearly instantly, jaw going tight.

It made sense that he’d forget, he rationalized. 

The portion of his psyche that was trained to be a hero was the same part that struggled the most with his feelings for you. All of the affection, validation, and deep admiration (and perhaps more) was slowly but surely allowing long-dormant parts of him to awaken— 

Yet, all of the new roots and growth aside, he’d forgotten about you in the chaos of the day. 

Maybe a passing, subconscious twinge in his gut, but otherwise? Nothing. 

A bit of guilt chewed him as the line began to ring. 

 You laid across your couch, curled up with the plushie in your arms. The news reports played like white noise, your mind long having gone to gum and static. You alternated between different horrors of memory and sensation. 

The buzzing and shrill sound of your ringtone made your jump, pulling you from your stupor.

 [birdboy <3] calling...

 You immediately picked up the call.

“Keigo?” You asked, trying to ignore the continual light shaking of your hands. 

“Hey, dove,” His voice was cool and calm. “Sorry, I just saw your message now. I figure you saw all the news, but I’m all good, no worries! How are you?”

Oh.

Was it that easy?

The gears in your skull turned far slower than you wanted them to.

He’s fine, (Y/N).

He’s so unbothered. 

Everything is fine.

You tried to comfort yourself, taking a few methodical breaths.

“Dove? Are you there?”

Get your shit together.

“Yeah, I am.” You shook your head. “I was worried, that’s all. My bad. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“The news really plays things up, huh?” Keigo laughed with a sigh, scratchy from the speaker. “Sorry about the media circus. They like the drama.”

“Uh-huh.” You replied, feeling yourself begin to spin all over again.

Drama.

Dramatics.

...

Calm down.

It wasn’t that simple.

“Hey, dove, are you alright?” Keigo spoke casually from the line. Maybe there was some concern in his tone (or you just wanted there to be). You couldn’t fully tell.

You sank back into the couch, bending your good leg into your chest, “I was just worried, is all. I freaked myself out.”

“I’m sorry about that, angel,” Keigo clicked from the phone. “I don’t get banged up too often. Besides, they always stitch me back together quickly! It’s just like this sometimes.”

“‘It’s just like this sometimes’,” You repeat mechanically, processing so slowly it was painful. Your voice sounded far off— 

You felt like you were drowning.

Why couldn’t you handle seeing him hurt?

It’s part of his job. 

Why does this all feel so bad?

 “Can you come over?” You asked, praying that he’d say yes, and maybe, maybe, you could have your fears be assuaged with some contact. Some support— 

“Sorry, dove, the healer they got for me really drained me,” Keigo yawned from the other side of the line. “I think I’m gonna hit the hay. But, tomorrow is just an office day for me, so I can come by after?”

Your heart sank in your chest, faster and harder than you could try to make yield.

“That works,” You replied, despite how rotten you felt. “Take care, okay? Get some rest.”

You hung up abruptly, not waiting for his reply, and lowering your head.

Tears drip from your eyes, soaking the plushie in your arms as you finally let out the sobs you had been holding back for hours.

 ...

 Despite Keigo’s exhaustion, he knew that the entire phone call was so off. You’d never hung up that quickly before, and you sounded a bit off.

None of it sat right. 

He shot off a kind text or two before knocking out for the night, nodding off just after sending them.

 ...

 You hardly slept. 

You felt like you were being eaten alive as the night wore on and the moon remained high.

It was all metastasized, unchecked. Breathing exercises had stopped cutting it at some point, your own thoughts and methodical actions lost in the soup of it all. 

You ‘rationalized’. 

He’s a fucking hero, he’s going to get hurt. It’s part of the job and you need to get over it.

That doesn’t matter! It’s still terrifying to see someone you care about super injured!

You knew all of that though.

None of it was new.

What was new, and harder to understand, was the storm that had buried itself like a barbed arrow between the two halves of your brain.

The rest of it.

The complex miasma of feelings that were only set off by the events and subsequent feelings you tried to rationalize. 

The mental thunder-cracks kept you tossing and turning, any sleep light and flighty. Your eyes burned and dripped through the entire night, soaking your pillowcase. 

By the time morning light began to shift in from the heavy curtains of your bedroom, you might’ve felt worse than you did the night prior.

Your mouth was dry, tongue tacky, and swollen in your mouth. You forced yourself out of bed, methodically showering despite all of the energy it took with your leg still recovering. 

You felt hazy beyond belief, fatigued, and purely awful.

Quickly, you nested for the day, still damp from your shower and sore from your lack of sleep. Tucking into the couch, you covered yourself with blankets and held the plushie to your chest, not even bothering to turn on the TV.

 Keigo, meanwhile, prepped for his office day. Since his wings were sparse, he made an extra effort for his face. Bit of concealer to brighten his dark circles and smooth out the finer lines around his brow and under his eyes.

It seemed pertinent to cover more, wipe away his anxieties as his gaze flickered to his phone on the countertop of his bathroom.

You’d never responded the night before. You hadn’t said anything— not even giving an indication that you’d seen the message.

Truthfully, now that the drum of the press and his de-facto role had died down, your lack of contact filled him with burning anxiety. 

You two had a habit of texting each other in the mornings, little sweet greetings and the occasional messy selfie that the other adored. Keigo typically woke up earlier than you, but still. 

He gave you a call.

 You robotically picked up on the second ring, hardly looking at your phone and its caller as you held it to your ear, “Hello?”

“Hey, angel!” Keigo’s voice seemed too chipper from the other side of the line. “I just wanted to call and check-in. You just sounded a bit off last night, is all. Are you doing okay?”

“Oh,” You sounded hollow, far-off, and sticky. 

There was a pause, your numbed out psyche far-too slow and miswired to say anything else.

“(Y/N)?” Keigo asked. “Are you there?”

Your name shoved you a bit closer to reality. 

 “Yeah, I am.” You blinked, your name making you twitch, “Sorry, I’m just not feeling well.”

“Awww, since last night too?” Keigo’s wings beat in the background of the call. “Is that why you wanted me to come over?”

Sort of, not really.

Your voice shook as you quickly were losing the will to keep it even, “U-um—”

How do you even explain?

Your quirk spun alive, the feeling of shrapnel and rusted nails running jagged lines down your spine.

You need to be honest.

“I j-just,” You sniffled back tears, though fruitlessly. “I just got really scared.”

You covered your mouth with your hand, holding the phone away from your mouth and praying that Keigo couldn’t hear the muffled sobs you forced to stay in your throat.

 “It’s alright, I’m okay!” He tried to assure you, tensing at the doorway to his balcony. “Everything is totally fine, there’s no reason to be scared.”

You went quiet on the other side of the receiver, all sound muffled and mixed. It made Keigo chew his lip, tightening his grip on the phone.

“I know.” Your voice broke at the same moment as Keigo’s chest tightened. You sounded so hurt. 

It pricked those seldom-used parts of his brain alive. 

It was those weird tingles and shooting bits of cortisol that screamed ‘protect them’. They screamed to life at your distress, hot and bright.

“Dove, are you alright? Are you crying?” Panic seeped into his tone as his feathers rippled from soft to razor-sharp in his instinctual rise. 

“I just got so f-fucking scared,” You choked, voice fizzling on the line. “Keigo, I’m sorry, I just— “

Your voice broke into tears, sobs echoing from the phone.

Keigo’s grip tightened, heart-pounding and feathers vibrating.

He acted before thinking too hard about it. 

“(Y/N), I’m gonna come over, okay? I’ll be there soon,” Keigo assured you, and himself, truthfully as he tore open his balcony door and launched into the sky

 You sputtering out an affirmative as wind-whipped into the receiver. 

Burying your face in your hands, you felt dread weigh you down from the inside out. 

 ||||||||||||||||||||

 ko-fi

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[chokemeanakin]

Give Me Love

Chapter Four

Wc: 2.3k

MASTERLIST

You had a lot to lose. A lot. Everything, really.

The issue with the fact that he already supposedly liked you, is that now you had the potential to screw it all up. To make him not like you anymore. One wrong move, one wrong word, and you could lose it all.

The thought had you sweating as you sent your last patient off, tying off his gauze wrapping and slipping a bottle of painkillers into his hand. He thanked you and left, and you blinked back tears, almost wishing he’d stay.

I can’t take this stress.

All day, you’d thrust yourself into your work. The clock ticked over your head, counting down the seconds until Anakin would meet you in this room, and then you’d sneak off to go to dinner. Together. Just you and him. Alone.

Completely at his mercy.

Wrapping sprained ankles and giving IV’s took your mind off of it for the majority of the day, but now it was 7:59, and Anakin had promised he’d be here right on time. Your stomach tossed and turned, hands shaking, impromptu jitters wracking your body. The nausea was slowly creeping its way back up as you put away your materials, washing your hands, winding them in your grasp as you paced the floor.

Knock knock

A stream of silent curses flew through your head. You startled at the noise, heart pounding wildly, but your legs forced you to the door anyway. It looked like someone else’s hand that turned the knob, opening it to reveal the long-awaited Jedi.

He was breath-taking, as usual. Even more so now that you knew what his true thoughts on you were. He held a special fondness for you, the same you held for him, and it was too good to be true. How could this absolute beauty even think to spare a second glance in your direction?

“You’re amazing for doing this,” Anakin grinned, slipping past you into the room. “Seriously, I don’t know what I’d do if I had to sit through that Opera show right now. Dex’s is on me, if I didn’t make that clear yesterday.”

He was already heading toward the back door, not nervous at all. What must that be like? You wondered, To be able to function so smooth and confident, unbothered in the same room as the person you so desperately adore?

To your surprise, a speeder was waiting outside the Jedi temple. A quite expensive one, at that. Your eyes widened as he held the door to the passenger’s seat open, sweeping with his other arm in a gesture to get in.

“Where’d you get this?” you asked, glad you now had a conversation starter. Anakin closed the door for you, a mischievous smirk curling onto his lips as he got into the driver’s side.

“I’m borrowing it from a friend.”

You had a sneaking suspicion that was a lie.

The banter came easily after that, surprisingly so on your part. Each time he made you laugh, your nerves dissipated a little bit more. The cool air whipping past your skin and tangling into your hair was like a balm for your nerves, soothing your feverish temperature and calming your mind for just a few minutes. When you arrived at Dex’s, you almost felt… normal.

Anakin cut the engine as you unbuckled, the neon lights bathing him in red and purple. His eyes sparkled like stars, taking in the lively night streets of Coruscant before him. Everything he did, everywhere he went-- you were beginning to think he was just permanently gorgeous.

You managed to sit on your nerves the whole night. They bit at you from the back of your mind, but you shoved them away, swallowed them down, beat them back with a stick. If things went bad, you bartered with yourself, you could just avoid Anakin for the rest of your life. You didn’t have to see him ever again if you didn’t want to. But… that’s not the way things were going. Things were going well. Better than well.

It surprised you just how much of a gentleman Anakin was. He was certainly good at wooing-- he held the door open for you into the restaurant, and then pulled the chair out for you. Apparently he knew Dex on a friendly-basis, so when the owner of the restaurant came over to greet him personally, Anakin introduced you as his friend.

The words had you soaring.

Admittedly, you were still having trouble looking him in the face. The hour was late and Dex had dimmed the lights. Even so, he was enchantingly beautiful, sitting across from you, tracing his thumb along the lip of a mug. His eyes had a habit of bearing into you, and you wondered if he knew how intense he could be sometimes.

You focused on the way his thumb found the rim of his glass, stroking it ever so slowly, back and forth, back and forth. It hypnotized you into a state of serenity as you tried to ignore the burn of his eyes on your face.

“I make you nervous.”

As if to prove him wrong, you lifted your gaze to meet his. Bad idea. His beauty never failed to land a blow to your chest, robbing you of air and the ability to formulate competent sentences.

“Not… in a bad way.” There was no use lying.

“In what way, then?”

This was not good. His voice was lowering, that seductive purr coming out even though you were sure he didn’t even realize. He was genuinely curious, but the deep rumble of his voice was yanking the nerves back up one by one, forcing you to feel the full brunt of their anger.

“You’re just… you’re intimidating.”

“Intimidating?” he looked like he might laugh, and you tried not to focus on how the arch of his eyebrow made you tingle.

“Very.”

“How so?”

He was back to quizzical, and you were back to feeling like you were going to vomit. Your vision went white, head dunked underwater, when something touched your hand. You realized it was his own. The thumb that you had been watching was now across your knuckles, stroking them gently like it had done to the lip of his mug. You inhaled a trembling breath, distracted by the burning path it seared into your live-wire skin.

Was that supposed to be soothing? Because it had the exact opposite effect.

“I’m sure you know the answer to that,” you turned the question back on him. Really, you had no idea how to answer without admitting the depth of your feelings for him. Or without going into extensive detail on just how ravishing you found him.

The tender caress of his thumb on your skin was flooding your body with pleasurable feelings. You never wanted him to stop. This moment, as he was touching you willingly for the first time, you truly felt on top of the world. Your whole being flooded with warm molasses, cheeks flushed as you drowned in the feeling. Later, you would worry about how dangerous it was that he had such a strong effect on you. For now, you were going to milk every last second that his skin was on yours.

“I’m not sure I do,” his smooth voice brought you back to reality. Suddenly, his thumb stopped and you internally panicked. When he didn’t pull away, you breathed out a sigh of relief. “Y/n, I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” the words felt phony leaving your lips. “Not-- not in a bad way…”

“What does that mean?”

Did you really have to spell it out for him? Was he really going to make you say it?

His words were serious now though, hard. You wanted that twinkle in his eye back, the playful smile. Even more so-- the stroke of his thumb.

“It means,” you shifted your eyes wildly, desperately clinging to any semblance of thought that you could piece together into an explanation, “that I think you’re really… cool. And I don’t want to make a fool of myself around you.”

Ironic, that sentence was. You hoped he couldn’t see your flaming cheeks in the low light of the restaurant.

“You think I’m cool?” At least he was smiling now. It was gentle, teasing, and the sight of it sent sparks of adoration up your spine. Maker, you wanted him…

“Yes,” you bowed your head, overcome with emotion. You couldn’t let him see how soft your eyes had gotten. “I think you’re amazing.”

His heart liquified at your hushed confession. It was like pulling a tooth, getting you to open up to him like this-- but now that he had you where he wanted, he was going to milk it for all it was worth.

“If I’m so amazing, how come you always avoid me?”

“I don’t avoid you.”

He cocked his head, testing.

“Okay. Fine. Whenever I see you… my heart beats all funny. I can’t think straight. And I get hot.”

He’s laughing now, but inside his heart is doing the same as yours. It thuds with hope, fear, and a suffocating reverence for the person across from it. Your eyes narrow at him, annoyed at how easily you let him get the upper hand.

“I don’t like it.”

His laughing stopped, but the smile stayed plastered on his face. Even the thumb on your knuckles resumed, quelling that swirling tempest in your gut.

“No?”

“No. It makes me feel weak. Disoriented. I feel like I have no control over myself when I’m around you.”

Which is exactly the reason you’re spewing these words out now. Was this some kind of Jedi Mind trick? How could you be telling this to him?

“You like me.”

Your eyes snapped up to his face at the same time you pulled your hand back. Your world began to crash down around you-- he knew. Of course he could tell that you had a stupid little crush. You basically just layed it all out on the table for him. All he had to do was piece it together.

You braced yourself for the inevitable worst. This was the part where he was going to tell you how wrong it was, how you had to forget your feelings for him, how you could never see each other again. If this was the last time you would be able to be with Anakin, you wanted to savor every moment. You allowed yourself to look at him-- really look at him.

It was shameless, the way your eyes lingered over his face. For once, you didn’t care how he watched you drink in every detail, the rings of your eyes flickering over every feature-- the delicate curl of his bangs over his forehead, the arch of his dark, shapely brows, the curl of his full, blushing lips, the enchanting peak of his chiselled cheekbones. He was stunning, and as always, it was like looking directly into the sun. Except this time, you let yourself burn.

“It’s not a bad thing,” he played off of your earlier words. Those devilish lips pulled up teasingly, voice low and purring. “I think you’ll be happy to know, I’m quite fond of you myself.”

Blood rushed through your ears, your heart stuttering in your chest. Was he--? Was he serious? Were you hearing his words correctly? Could he actually--?

He was waiting for you to say something. You swallowed thickly, your saliva feeling like a cotton ball in your throat, face and limbs numb with disbelief.

“Oh.”

Is that really all you could manage? You were beating yourself up inside, butterflies waging full-scale armageddon in your tummy. What were you supposed to say? Great, now let’s fuck?

Oh, Maker. That thought was not good for your nerves.

“Relax,” Anakin’s brows furrowed, sensing how anxious you’d suddenly become. You were vibrating slightly in your seat, sweat beginning to form on your skin. “You don’t have to be so nervous around me.”

You thought those words might have helped if you didn’t suddenly have thoughts of you and him… being intimate… barraging your mind. That was a whole other shelf of issues that you didn’t even want to breach tonight.

Internalizing his words, you forced yourself to suck in a burning breath of air. It whistled slightly as it went down, head pulsing at the lack of airflow. You managed to clear the hazey panic from your mind, but your heart still beat as if you were being chased. You really were hopeless.

“Okay,” you managed to breath. Your hands fisted the material of the scrubs on your thighs as you voice your next thoughts. “So… what now?”

“Now…” his eyes flicked away from your face for a moment, finally allowing you to breathe. His throat bobbed slightly as he thought, as if he was nervous too. “Now we do whatever you want.”

“Me?”

“Y/n,” warmth trickled down your spine at the way he whispered your name, leaning in closer to you so no one else could hear. When before you struggled to look at him, now you couldn’t look away. “I’m a Jedi. It’s against the code for me to have these attachments. But… I trust you. And I’d like to… be with you. In whatever way that might please you.”

“But why are you letting me choose?”

“Because if I had to, we’d be all in. I haven’t felt this way about anyone since… since…” his eyes clouded over, and he shook his head. “Nevermind that. I just… I know we barely know each other. But I feel… pulled to you. Just like you said, it makes me feel warm. And good. And I want more of it, all of it…”

His hand lifted off the table as if he meant to touch your cheek, but he caught himself halfway. Eyes darted around the restaurant, realizing where he was again as he lowered his hand.

“I want you. Completely.”

You were definitely sweating now.

The words didn’t even go through that familiar circuit of debate in your mind. They seemed to think themselves into fruition, then speak themselves into the air.

“Then…” your head swam. Stomach quivered. Heart pulsed. “You can have me.”

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[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.

[casey-v]

Valentine

Ethan x Casey

I haven’t written any fics for quite a while, but with OH3 coming soon I’m getting these vibes again….

I always wondered: what would the closing of Edenbrook mean to E x MC’s relationship? Here’s my attempt to this part of the story.

Sorry in advance for any mistakes, English isn’t my first language.

Warnings: none, I guess (maybe a few smutty thoughts)

Words: 3K

Disclaimer: all characters owned by PB

Participating in @choicesfebchallenge Day14: Valentine

“Good morning Dr. Valentine. This is your day today, isn’t it?” The nurse Rose greeted Casey as she entered the free clinic.

“Good morning. Yeah, I get that a lot.” Casey tried a friendly smile. Since she had been a child everyone referred to her last name on Valentine’s Day, making a remark or joking around. As a teenager it had made her feel special, but by now she was tired of hearing it. Especially today.

She had been in a bad mood since she woke up and it had nothing to do with her last name or Rose. But it had everything to do with the man who simply ignored this day today, probably didn’t even know it existed. 

It was perfectly clear to Casey, that these kinds of traditions meant nothing to Ethan. Nevertheless, her disappointment was huge because she had had great expectations for today. After a few difficult weeks she had hoped that a romantic dinner could bring them closer together again.

After the gala and their public kiss everything had seemed perfect and she had spent some time on cloud number nine. But then Ethan gradually became distant and a little grumpy again. They both often worked double shifts and meetings outside the hospital became rare. And they never talked about their life after Edenbrook’s closing. Whenever they got close to that topic, Ethan would change the subject. And Casey was also in denial; she hadn’t applied to any jobs outside greater Boston because she didn’t want to lose Ethan. But maybe it was too late now anyway, she didn’t even know what point in their relationship they really were at.            

“Has he told you yet?” Sienna interrupted her thoughts.

“Hi Sienna. No, I still have no idea what we’re doing tonight.”

“Oh, that’s so romantic. For sure he has something incredibly special planned for the two of you.”

Casey tried to maintain a cheerful façade even though she actually felt like crying. But Sienna’s enthusiasm was also kind of sweet, so she managed a smile.

“You seem more excited than I am.”

“I’m hosting a lonely-hearts roomie dinner tonight, so at least let me enjoy the romance in your life.”

Casey felt bad that she was being dishonest with her friend. It was silly, but she would rather spend the night at the movies on her own and then sleep in an on-call room than admit to her friend that Ethan wasn’t going to take her out on a date. Besides, talking about it would make it more real: their relationship was probably on the rocks.

 A busy morning at the clinic kept Casey occupied and gave her no opportunity to dwell on her misery. As she was preparing an IV for a patient, she suddenly sensed someone right behind her.

“Dr. Valentine, can you please run some tests on this patient and then get back to me as soon as possible?”

Usually her favorite baritone voice quickened her heartbeat, but today it sounded businesslike and not appealing at all. When she turned around Ethan didn't meet her gaze. Instead, he just thrust a patient chart into her hand and was gone before Casey even had the chance to respond.

 At first, she stood there with her mouth open, unable to move, a dreadful feeling spreading through her chest. She had barely seen him all week and that was all she got?

When her vision started to get blurred by tears, she quickly ran to a supply closet, locked the door and sank to the floor.

 What now? She couldn’t decide whether she was more sad or mad. How could it be, that things went wrong so fast after everything they had been through together? And how dare he talk to her like a random intern, shoving that patient file into her hands so rudely. He wasn't even her boss anymore.

She still held the chart clutched to her chest and now wanted to check what seemed so urgent. But what she saw didn't make any sense. There was only a last name on it and an address, but everything else was blank. As she turned the page her heart took a leap. She wiped away a few tears and stared at the blank piece of paper. Two words stared back at her.

Dinner tonight?

When she finally remembered to breathe again, she flipped back to the first page and now the pieces were falling into place.

Sorellina, Huntington Ave.

She knew the name had sounded familiar. “Sorellina” wasn't a patient's name; it was the name of a fancy Italian restaurant in the Back Bay. To be sure she pulled out her phone and searched the internet. And what she found there brought a bright smile to her face.

 …the ultimate destination if you're looking to really impress a date…

.. one of the most romantic spots in the city…

…awesome place for date nights…

 So he didn’t forget after all! But why the strange behavior? Some things didn’t add up. You don’t get a reservation like this one day in advance. He must have planned this weeks ago. A lot had changed since and now maybe he just wanted to give them one last shot? He wouldn’t be so heartless to dump her on Valentine’s day, would he?

Casey was totally confused. Was she just misinterpreting the whole situation? But she couldn’t be that paranoid. Something was brewing and she was determined to find out tonight, no matter what. This time she would confront him and for once she wouldn’t let him off the hook so easily.

But first she had to get through the day somehow, and she had to head home during her lunchbreak to choose a breathtaking dress. And pack an overnight bag, just in case. Not to forget the special brand of scotch she had ordered for Ethan. And she had to tell Sienna. And…

Okay! First of all, she had to calm down and concentrate on her work. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she took a pen out of her pocket and wrote below Ethan’s message.

Tell me when and where and I’ll be there 💕

After leaving the supply closet she randomly grabbed two other files, placed hers in between and handed them to an intern. “Please get this to Dr. Ramsey immediately.” Then she went back to her patient, who was still waiting for his IV.

The day seemed to drag on endlessly. In the afternoon she found the piece of paper out of the fake patient file in her coat pocket.  

Dinner tonight?

Tell me when and where and I’ll be there 💕

my office, 7 pm 😊

 He had even drawn an emoji! Smiling she added one more line.

Dessert at your place?

Then she quickly ran upstairs, sneaked into Ethan’s office, and put the piece of paper onto his desk. Her eyes fell on the big clock on the wall: 4 pm! Three more hours to go.

 *******

Ethan sat behind his desk, already dressed in his tux, trying to focus on some files. But instead of working, he kept repeating in his head what he wanted to say tonight.

It was ridiculous. Usually, he gave speeches in front of hundreds of fellow doctors and here he was, being nervous about talking to one single woman. The difference was that he felt very qualified to talk about his profession, but he was totally insecure when it came to talking about his feelings. With Casey, he wasn't Dr. Ramsey, a famous and respected diagnostician; with her, he was simply Ethan, a man struggling with the changes in his life.

The sound of high heels echoed through the hallway and announced Casey's arrival. Trying to calm his nerves Ethan busied himself with his paperwork as she entered the office. He didn't raise his head, instead he just glanced at her over the rims of his glasses. As he did, she put her hands on her hips, pushing the winter coat aside to give him full view of her stunning dress. And it had the desired effect. The small piece of black nothingness took his breath away.

 “Dr. Ramsey, don't you think it's inappropriate to look at a colleague that way?”

He swallowed hard, but he wouldn’t let her tease him like that.

“Dr. Valentine, don't you think it's inappropriate to wear something like that in your workplace?”

She smirked at him.

“Not as much as taking it off right here in your office.”

Defeated he shook his head, a smile showing at the corners of his mouth. He had to fight the urge to leap over his desk and take her right there against the office door, but instead he only sighed deeply and reached for his coat. This had to wait.

“We better get going or I don't know what I'll do!”

Together they left the office and walked to his car, holding hands. But despite their little banter just now there was an odd silence between them.

*******

The restaurant really was the perfect setting for a special date. Casey was overwhelmed and also kind of intimidated by the atmosphere. To her, it felt more like a first date with a guy she had a crush on than a dinner with the man she had been dating for month. And Ethan seemed equally self-conscious. But after some champagne, they both loosened up and had a really great time.

Almost.

Casey knew Ethan too well by now not to notice that something was strange about him tonight. She couldn’t shake that nagging feeling in her gut.

Back in his apartment, after she had given him her gift, he sat down on the couch with a serious face and asked her to sit down as well.

“I have something for you, too”

Blushing slightly, he handed her a small box and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I wanted to…, I mean this is… Oh, just open it and then I’ll explain!”

Carefully, she lifted the lid of the box and saw, lying on a tiny silk cushion, a key. From the looks of it, she assumed it was the key to his apartment. Casey gave Ethan a questioning look and waited for the promised explanation. But it didn’t come. Ethan seemed uncomfortable and pinched the bridge of his nose. Finally, he just blurted it out.

“Want to move in with me?”

Of all the things she had expected him to say, this certainly wasn’t on the list. But why now? Hundreds of different thoughts whirled through Casey’s head all at once. At first she just stared at him, then she burst into tears. For a long time Ethan looked at her helplessly, finally he ran a hand through his hair in frustration and murmured: “Obviously not.”

At that, Casey’s head snapped up. “No, no, no! I do, of course I do!” She wiped some tears from her face and explained between occasional sobs.

“The thing is: Whenever I imagined moving in with you, I got sad about not living with my friends anymore. And now I’ve just realized it doesn’t matter because in a couple of weeks they’ll all be gone anyway, scattered across the country. I’m going to miss them so much. And since I don’t know where I am going to be, there’s no point in moving in with you either.”

She shook her head, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess, it just seems that everything is falling apart. This morning I wasn’t even sure whether you want to break up with me or not and I thought that…”

“Whoa, hold it right there. What on earth are you talking about?”

From Ethan’s shocked expression Casey could tell that it had obviously never occurred to him to break up. Slightly embarrassed she continued in an unsteady voice.

“I mean, the way you’ve been acting lately, especially this morning, you’ve been so rude….”

Ethan gently caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, wiped away her tears, and sighed.

“Oh Casey, I’m so sorry. But you know me; you know that I hate talking in front of patients. And I had a lot on my mind; I’ve been nervous all day about our date.”

He smiled shyly and shook his head. Then his gaze darkened again, guilt clearly written on his face. His brows furrowed, and he backed away a little.

“Although you’re right that I’ve been putting some distance between us lately. But I needed clarity about the whole job situation. And us. All my life I’ve planned everything three steps ahead and then suddenly it felt like I was losing control. I know I can’t ask you to stay because you have to finish your residency at one of the best hospitals in the country. Thus, I have tortured myself to figure out how we can make things work and I’ve been miserable all this time. Until I realized the answer is fairly simple.”

Casey couldn’t believe that they had both been so distraught for weeks, and instead of sharing and confiding in each other, they were just brooding over the challenges ahead, each to their own. Slowly, the uneasy feeling inside her stomach began to dissipate, although she had no idea what he was talking about.

“What answer?”

Ethan took her hand and he gently drew circles on the back of it with his thumb, his eyes following its movement.

“Edenbrook has been my home for almost 12 years now, and if they take it away from me, what else is there? Naveen, of course, and my father nearby, but other than that ….”

All this time Casey held the box with the key in one hand. Now he took it from her and raised the key to eye level. Her gaze wandered back and forth between the key and Ethan. He cleared his throat in search of words, but they didn’t come. Her heart hammered in her chest, the tension almost unbearable. Finally, his blue eyes met hers and he found the courage to speak, his voice husky and low.

“This isn’t just the key to my apartment, Casey. This key means I want to live with you, wherever that may be.”

His last words were only a whisper. “If you’ll have me, that is.”

Casey couldn’t even begin to grasp what it all meant. She would be able to apply to any hospital in the country and Ethan would be with her. Live with her.

An overwhelming feeling of happiness spread through her body.

“You really would do this for me?”

“No, if I’m honest I’m doing this not for you but for myself. I don’t want to go back to being that grumpy cynic I once was before I met you. I’m lost without you.”

The full meaning of his words sent a prickling sensation down her spine, but she was also amused.

“Ethan, you’re one of the most famous and respected physicians, you’ve managed perfectly fine without me for 36 years.”

Ethan put down the key and the box from her hand and took both her hands, his gaze intense.

“But it’s taken me 36 years to find out what it means to be genuinely happy.”

Those last words took all her breath right out of her and her heart was ready to explode. His eyes pierced hers as he waited for a response.

He moved closer und squeezed her hands tightly, his eyes still dark.

“So, what do you say?”

She couldn’t resist the temptation to mess with him.

“Let me get this straight: You’re telling me, if I said no, there would be no one to tell you if you’re acting like a goddam diva again?”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth realizing what she was getting at. “Probably.”

Grinning she went on. “And who would be there to help you with your social media accounts?”

“Nobody.”

Ethan’s eyes began to light up as she moved onto his lap, mischief in her smile.

“And there would be no one who would dare to tease you?”

“Right.”

Their faces were now only a breath away.

“And nobody there to make you pancakes?”

“Exactly. What would become of me?”

Her mouth moved to the side of his neck. After a line of soft kisses, she started nibbling on his earlobe and whispered. “And no one, who would do this?”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not hard to find someb…”

She quickly backed away and punched his arm playfully. “Don’t you dare!”

Ethan was now gleaming all over his face. He tucked a finger under her chin and gently nudged her nose with his. “So is that a YES?”

“Do I even have a choice?”

“Not really!”

And then at last his lips found hers, first slowly, barely touching, until they both gave in and melted into each other. All the tension of the day, all the pent-up emotions of the past weeks fell off and there was only him and her. While the kisses grew more and more urgent, his hands started to roam over her body and slowly he unzipped her dress. As his warm hand gently slid down her back, Casey felt his hot breath on her ear.

“If I remember correctly, you promised me dessert.”

“We already had a selection of delicious Italian desserts.”

“But I’m still very hungry. And first of all, this dress has to go. The sight of it has been tormenting me all evening.”

*****

The bedroom was almost dark. Ethan lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He was unable to put his mind to rest after the events of the day. He turned over to watch the stunning woman sleeping next to him. The moonlight on her face made her even look more beautiful. From now on, he would have the privilege of waking up to this sight every morning. That thought alone made his heart leap.

Gently, he draped the sheets over her shoulder, brushed her hair out of her face and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek; always careful not to wake her.

Smiling down at her he whispered. “I love you, Casey Valentine.”

Never before had these words left his lips. And now didn’t even count either because she couldn’t hear them. He had tried to tell her many times, but the moment never seemed right. Today would have been the perfect occasion, but he had chickened out again.

It was absurd. They had started to plan their future together. Why was it so hard? Three simple words!

Laying back down he whispered, more to himself.

“I’m going to tell you. Soon.

Maybe tomorrow.”

----------------------------------------

Thank you if you have made it so far.

This piece has really been a challenge, it took me forever. I’ve changed it a couple of times and I am still not quite satisfied, but at some point you just have to let go.

Tagging seperately.

[lassieposting]

skulduggery/alt!serpine for the getting together ask game?

I’m bored, so. Send me two (or more) characters for a headcanon on how I’d have them get together

OHOHOHOHO SEE THIS IS A GOOD ONE BC

ive already been thinking about this and im. Lowkey really glad im not the only one

See I always hated skug with any serpine, like I was a passionate anti from 2007 - about three months ago but. I enjoyed their dynamic in phase one and then i read like three of their interactions from sow and got converted or some shit apparently idfk, anyway u know i love an angsty ship

this got really long so tldr; enemies to vitriolic hate-sex buddies to lovers, painfully slow burn, but they'll both die claiming they still hate each other

It begins with China.

She orders him to kill Serpine, and he refuses. He's not even 100% sure why when he does. It's not like they're friends. He's killed people he liked a good deal more than Nefarian Serpine under orders.

But she says, "kill him" and he says, "no", and then things spiral so quickly that it's actually a few days before he even has time to think about her parting shot, flung at him as he walked out on her: "if you want to keep him, you'll be the one looking after him. He's your responsibility, not mine. And if he hurts someone, you -"

He'd shut the door on her at that point, but he knows what she was going to say. You look after him yourself, you train him yourself, and if he hurts someone, you kill him yourself. A wonderfully old-world way of looking at things. He's fairly sure he remembers getting the same speech from the housekeeper when he tried to bring home the ugliest feral tomcat he'd ever seen as a small boy.

(This will come back to bite him. He's not sure how or when, but it will. That's the way of things, whenever he turns his back on China Sorrows. Her last parting shot - a classic "you'll regret this" - ended up getting him killed.)

But then there's Mevolent, and cleaning up a city in the aftermath of its latest Traumatic Event, and putting a size 10 to the backsides of the City Guard, so his priorities get reshuffled somewhat, and it's almost a week later that he thinks to ask, "Heard from Serpine lately? He's being oddly quiet."

Valkyrie blinks at him from the passenger seat. Her fingertips tap tap tap at the touchscreen. She's messaging someone. He doesn't know who. "He's...around."

"Why the pause?"

"Hm?"

"You paused," he points out, switching lanes to get around a hatchback dawdling along at 60. "He's...around. You're trying to hide something from me. I'm aware you still talk to him, you know."

She doesn't deny it. He's gotten used to that, in the last few years. She doesn't tell him things anymore. It's that distance, the distance he can try to banter over but never truly remove. She's a lot further away than his passenger seat. "He's been looking for somewhere to live, like. Now that he's here for good. So, you know. That's probably keeping him busy."

Nefarian Serpine is living out of a stuffy first-floor rented room above, of all things, Vaurien Scapegrace's pub.

He knows this not because China was having Serpine followed (although she was) or because plenty of old faces from the Sanctuary still owe him favours (although they do), but because he receives a text from Scapegrace at a quarter to midnight, in the middle of a grisly murder scene.

have u beaten anyone up lately? do u want to? think thrasher just rented one of our rooms to a war criminal

He taps out a response, half-focused on the screen and half on Valkyrie examining the photos on the dead man's mantelpiece. She looks like she's just figured something out.

Which one? Thrasher, or the other guy?

By the time he's dropped her home, said hello to the furball and returned to the city, morning is bleeding into the sky. He knocks sharply on Nefarian Serpine's peeling rented door, and then again when there's no response.

From inside, a thud.

Then another, followed by some deeply impolite language, and then the door jerks open. Serpine, wearing an impressive bedhead, a scraggly attempt at a beard and a pair of patterned socks with a hole in the toe, squints out into the hall and snaps, "D'you have ANY IDEA what time it is? This place is supposed to - ah, shite. It's you."

"It is," he agrees.

Serpine gives him a sulky jerk of the head - an invitation - and vanishes back inside. He follows, closing the door gently behind him. Inside the room is dark and depressing and smells faintly of mildew and sweat. There are clothes on the floor.

He pulls the curtains open and looks out the window, giving Serpine some privacy to get dressed.

"Found me at last, have you?" Serpine asks from over by the bed. There's a rustle of fabric and the sound of a belt being done up. "What do you want? Come to take my other hand?"

That's it. That's what's different. "Other? You don't seem to be missing any at present, Nefarian. Valkyrie's work, I take it."

Serpine sits down on the bed with a squeak of springs, and when Skulduggery turns to face him, he's smirking and, thankfully, wearing trousers. "Ever so nice of her, wasn't it? Doesn't work like the old one, though. You know. The one I used on you."

He sighs. "And here I thought this last week would've given you time to come up with some new material."

Serpine shrugs and spends a moment picking out a pair of shirts from the wardrobe beside the bed. If it's a test, it's a painfully obvious one. Almost an invitation. Go ahead, shoot me.

No, this is something Skulduggery knows far more intimately. A display of brittle confidence in the face of a threat. I'm not afraid of you. Do your worst.

Serpine is afraid of him. Afraid of being arrested, maybe, or killed, or worse. He'd have relished that fear, once. Delighted in flipping the tables.

He leans back against the desk, ankles crossed and arms folded. After a moment, Serpine turns around with a shirt on a hanger in each hand. He holds them up for an opinion.

Skulduggery points wordlessly at the green one, and the blue goes back in the closet. "If you're not here to kill me, what do you want?"

While Serpine is doing up his buttons, Skulduggery retrieves the folded sheaf of paper from the inside pocket of his long coat, and holds it up. "I came to drop these off."

Serpine's vibrant eyes narrow. "What is that? An arrest warrant?"

"A list of landlords in Roarhaven willing to rent to refugees. Valkyrie mentioned you were looking."

Serpine blinks at him. Skulduggery doesn't often bother with the facade in Roarhaven, but if he had a face right now, he'd be blinking back. It's a weirdly awkward moment.

"...thanks," Serpine says after a moment, tentatively reaching for the papers; Skulduggery leans forward to pass them over. "That'd be...helpful."

He sounds very uncomfortable saying those words. When Skulduggery responds, "You're welcome," he feels much the same.

Serpine unfolds the papers and skims them. Three pages of property listings. Tipstaff had printed them off for him with only a raised eyebrow and a, "Never thought you'd move out of Dublin, Detective."

"What brought this on?"

He looks up. "Hm?"

"You show up here at an ungodly hour of the morning, nobody to rein you in, and you're being helpful? I don't buy it. I know China as well as you do. She told you to kill me, didn't she?"

"She did," Skulduggery acknowledges, and a very old, very spiky part of him gets a kick out of watching the blood drain from Serpine's face. "I told her no."

"Bollocks."

"Hard to believe, isn't it? But it's true. Ah, don't look at me like that, Nefarian. It's got nothing to do with you. I was just feeling argumentative that day. And, if nothing else, I can always rely on China to argue with me if I tell her no."

"So -"

"For my sins, she made you my responsibility, see. I'm supposed to keep an eye on you, make sure you don't get up to any of your old tricks. And if you do, then I'll kill you. I'll be checking in on you to make sure you're behaving yourself. Think of me as a...probation officer, of sorts. With benefits."

More blinking. This version of Serpine is not a morning person. He bets his alternate self got to sleep in far later in this Serpine's dungeon. "I'm not seeing any benefits."

"The benefit is I get to kill you if you step out of line. I never said the benefits were for you."

"Are there any benefits in this for me?"

He considers this for a moment. "You get to live. Because of me. I saved your life. "

Serpine's face is emotionless and his voice is flat.

"Oh," he says. "Yippee."

He's interviewing a witness when his phone rings.

He politely excuses himself, and steps out into the hallway to answer it. "Pleasant."

"Hello!" Serpine says brightly, and launches immediately into, "I want a car."

Skulduggery's fake face blinks at the sigil-embossed wallpaper. It takes a second to even register the voice, and another to pick up on -

"How the -? Who gave you this number?"

"Valkyrie." Serpine sounds completely unapologetic. "And you're supposed to be teaching me to drive."

Serpine can't see his head tilt. He does it anyway. "Am I now? And what gave you that idea?"

"I'm your problem now, remember? Besides, you agreed to it," is the smug answer. "Before our little holiday back to my dimension, I said I wanted a better house and a latte and a car. And driving lessons."

"I never agreed to that."

"Well, you didn't say no. That's agreement by default. Sorry."

"Plenty of people can teach you to drive, Nefarian. You could teach yourself, even. Watch a video on Youtube."

"Detective Pleasant, I am shocked," Serpine teases, suddenly dripping with insincere concern. "Think of all those poor defenceless mortals I could run into. There's an advert on the television about how you're specifically not supposed to hit them with cars. It kills them, apparently. How will I cope without you there to make sure I resist temptation?"

Skulduggery grinds his teeth. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Immensely. I'd completely forgotten how much fun it is to have you at my mercy. And you did say you're supposed to keep an eye on me."

Skulduggery goes quiet for a moment, focusing on reining in the urge to hit something. Serpine's face. He wants to hit Serpine's face. With a chair. Trust him to figure out that being Skulduggery's responsibility meant he could go to him for help.

"Fine."

"Excellent! And now you have my number, so you can let me know when you're free."

"Since when do you have a mobile?"

"Since today," Serpine says airily. "Tanith helped me pick one out. I can talk to anyone, anywhere, whenever I like now. Isn't that great? I mean, I only have two numbers, three now that Valkyrie's given me yours, but still. Now I'll always have someone to talk to."

"This is a work line. It is not for social calls."

A passing sorcerer startles a little at his tone, and he gives her an apologetic smile. As an afterthought, he rolls his eyes in a you know how it is gesture. But she's already walking away, so really he just rolls his eyes at her back, which is probably rude of him.

Serpine is still talking. "- can send little moving pictures, and I've downloaded all these little applications, so now I do all sorts of fun things. Do you use...whatsit...Snapchat? I have Snapchat now. And I've got Angry Birds and Candy Crush and Grindr."

And that? That right there? That is more than he ever needed to know about Serpine.

"Goodbye, Nefarian," he says firmly, and hangs up.

He checks in on Serpine once a week, officially. Unofficially, he clocks more hours than he'd like to admit parked in an alley outside Scapegrace's pub, waiting for someone to scream bloody murder. Serpine spots him a couple of times, gives him a jaunty wave with his newly-regrown hand on his way to the off-licence, mocking and unconcerned.

But nobody gets murdered. Serpine seems to be...behaving. For now.

"I've volunteered you for move-in duty," Valkyrie says, apropos of nothing. When he blinks at her, she shrugs and takes a sip of her coffee. "Serpine's found a flat. He needs some furniture shifting."

He's not going to throw anything at his partner in this busy mortal cafe. He's not.

"I see. And you thought that has anything to do with me because..."

She polishes off the last dregs of her drink with a slurp. "I can't float stuff up stairs."

The apartment Serpine is moving into is a decent two-bedroom on the fourth floor of a six-floor block in a quiet area with a history of minimal unexpected-demolitions-by-overpowered-supervillain. Skulduggery idly wonders, as he pulls up in the parking area behind the building, whether a mass murderer moving in - and the frequent visits by the other mass murderer charged with keeping an eye on him - will bring down housing prices. China will hate that, when she wakes up.

Serpine is waiting for him out front, surrounded by boxes and furniture, already looking a bit frazzled. His outfit is stylish and his slicked-back hair is sticking up in places where he's been running his hands though it. He startles and looks up at the sound of footsteps, and seems to breathe a sigh of relief. "Ah! You came. Valkyrie said you'd know how to go about getting all this, you know. Up there."

"You can hire people for this, you know," Skulduggery tells him. "Removal men."

"With what money?" Serpine asks, a little helplessly. "Valkyrie gave me some of her old things, but I got most of this from - what's the word? - second hand shops, and the refugee aid centre. I've been looking for work, but...you know." He gestures at his face. "This is my criminal record."

Which...is a fair point, so Skulduggery rolls up his sleeves and moves to one end of a squashed two-seater couch. "Fair enough. Grab the other end."

Serpine's mouth almost drops open. "You want to carry it? Like peasants? I thought you were here to float the damn thing!"

Well, he could. But the world isn't actively ending right now, so he can afford to be petty. "I don't use magic unless I have to, these days. We'll be doing this the old-fashioned way."

"But." The last time he saw someone look this aghast was when Valkyrie realised how the citizens of Roarhaven saw her. "But that's manual labour!"

"A little manual labour will do you good."

"Gods, I hate you," Serpine tells him as he moves to grab the other end of the couch.

Skulduggery turns the facade on specifically to give him a smug smirk. "I know."

By the time they're finishing up the boxes, Serpine's new neighbours have come out into the hall to see what all the banging is about. They seem young, mostly - too young to recognise him from the war. Skulduggery is starting to suspect that Serpine has accidentally moved into student housing, but he keeps his mouth shut. Serpine is being chatty and charming, holding court in the corridor, and Skulduggery mostly lets him get on with it in between trips to the bottom of the stairs to pick up more boxes, until a young woman who holds Serpine's front door open for him and chuckles, "Left you doing all the work, has he? He's a talker, your boyfriend. I bet you don't get a word in edgewise."

It's not often that Skulduggery Pleasant is lost for words. "I. I'm sorry. What?"

Fortunately, Serpine chooses that moment to interrupt the conversation he's having and interject, "Oh, no, darling. We're not together. He's just here to make sure I stay out of trouble."

There's something off about how he says it, though. There must be, because the woman taps her nose like he's just confided a secret, and Skulduggery can't help but feel like he's just been made the butt of a joke he doesn't fully understand.

He checks on Serpine once a week. Occasionally Serpine texts him. A blurry photo, usually paired with a caption like, "what the hell is this?"; a set of traffic lights, or a lollipop man, or a chihuahua in a little jumper. Sometimes he responds, but sometimes he doesn't bother.

It's not like they're friends.

The sun is shining, the birds are singing, Roarhaven's shopping district is bustling, and Nefarian Serpine is late.

Skulduggery's been people-watching, drumming his fingers on the tabletop, for fifteen minutes when he finally shows up with a to-go coffee cup in one hand and a stack of books under the other arm. He's frowning.

"You're late," says Skulduggery, by way of greeting.

Serpine shrugs, taking the seat opposite. He dumps his books on the round table and gives the menu a cursory glance. "Sorry. I was at the library. Almost missed the bus."

A waitress approaches wearing a shirt stamped with the logo of the little bistro they're sat outside, and while Serpine orders lunch, Skulduggery idly examines the titles stamped along the spines of his book mountain. Some of them look old, leather bound tomes with fancy gold lettering, and the rest seem to be...textbooks, of all things.

"A little light reading, Nefarian?"

"Huh?" Serpine - busy watching the waitress walk back inside - swivels round to face him, and shrugs. "Oh. Yeah. I want to see if they match up with the slanderous shite they're teaching at the university."

"Excuse me?"

Serpine shrugs. "Vapid and Ty - you know Ty, weird hair, lives next door - thought it might help me adapt if I learn more about how your world is different to mine, so. I've been sitting in on some classes. Unofficially. History. Mortal Relations. That kind of thing. You have battles here that never happened back home, you know."

Skulduggery folds his arms across his chest and leans back in his chair, amused despite himself. "Mortal Relations? You're going to Mortal Relations lectures. You."

"Shut up," says Serpine, pointing a finger at him. "You don't get to laugh. You're not the one nobody wants to hire. - because that's still a problem, by the way. Aren't you supposed to be helping me with that?"

"I'm supposed to be making sure you don't kill anyone or make a nuisance of yourself. Sorry to disappoint."

"Would it kill you to write me a character reference?"

Skulduggery coughs conspicuously into his gloved hand with the throat he doesn't have. He picks up the top book from Serpine's stack and flips idly through Religion & Warfare: The Rise Of The Church Of The Faceless In The 15th Century . "Think about that one for a minute, Nefarian, and you'll remember why it's not happening."

"Fine. Be like that." Serpine's shoe nudges his leg under the table. "Here, were you at the Battle of Black Rock?"

He has to think about that one for a second, then hums in the negative. "Hm. No. I missed that one. I think that was when I was holed up in Cork with a broken leg. Why?"

"History 201," Serpine muses. "I tagged along this morning. It was mostly about that fight, but it never happened in my dimension. It was borderline slanderous, honestly. The professor is an imbecile."

"You're dying to vent, aren't you?"

"Would you mind terribly?"

Skulduggery pulls his ornate pocket watch from his waistcoat pocket and checks the time. "You've got fifteen minutes. Better talk fast."

Time goes by.

He checks on Nefarian once a week. They have coffee, sometimes. Valkyrie knows not to cross the line of bringing Serpine to Skulduggery's home, but she adds them both to a group chat and neither one leaves.

Nefarian wrecks his first car, and Skulduggery makes the drive out from Dublin at 5.45am to rescue him. He calls the tow truck while Serpine sits, pale and shaken, in the Bentley's front seat, drenched from the rain and squelching miserably every time he moves.

He apologises for calling so early, and for once he sounds like he means it.

Skulduggery takes him through the McDonalds drive thru to cheer him up, and as Nefarian tucks into a box of fries with gusto, he thinks, oh no.

They're not friends. They're not.

"Is this a date?"

Skulduggery tilts his head, hand stilling over the car keys. "I'm sorry?"

Valkyrie tosses another piece of popcorn into her mouth. She's already in her pyjamas, fluffy ones with dogs on them, and she's flicking through the Netflix queue. "You're all dressed up. Is this a date? Have you two finally gotten over yourselves? God knows it's been long enough."

He snatches up the car keys and sniffs, disdainful. "After all these decades, Valkyrie, if that's what your expert detective skills are telling you, I have failed as a mentor."

"And now you're getting defensive."

"I'm doing no such thing. Where's Tanith, by the way?"

She laughs and does double fingerguns at him. "And that's deflection!"

He sighs - dramatically, for her benefit - and as he checks his pocket watch, she continues, "And, she's on her way. Get out, already. You have a date to keep and we have movies to watch."

"It's not a bloody date," he complains, patting his pockets to make sure he's got everything. "And I originally asked you."

"Yeah, but opera's boring. Here, is he meeting you there or are you picking him up?"

"Goodbye, Valkyrie."

"See?!" She shouts after him as he shuts the front door. "Date!"

[lover-of-trash-and-people]

netflix shadow and bone s1 e5 pt3: peak darklina

the first kiss scene Alina is so beautiful Her little smile as she picks up his kefta after he hears him call out for Ivan to get it like ooh I'm gonna play a little trick on Alek Her making him smile with a joke that's not even funny The tentativeness of it all, them tiptoeing around each other, testing the boundaries Him being taken aback by her offering to help him put on his kefta but still wanting her to and immediately resorting to business voice asking questions about official sun summoner stuff And putting on his serious business face him trying to explain away the gloves by calling them a safeguard, not a sign of him not trusting her abilities the face he makes after saying spectacle either depicting his distaste for the showiness of the event or depicting his embarrassment at how he phrased the sentence, like what the fuck did I just say (more likely the first one) Her quickly turning around and walking away after the eye contact makes her realise how close they are and him pulling a puzzled look as she does so Just. Just how adorable the energy is. Both of them making jokes to diffuse the tension, her gripping the table to maybe steady or calm herself, the looks they give to each other as if engaged in a delicate dance; god-like Him straight up just blinking and looking down and gulping as she says 'we can offer Grisha and Ravkans hope' (could be multiple things he's thinking at this point, and all of them interest me) 'That means a lot to me, Alina.' *her turning to look at his face* 'You mean a lot...' *her immediately lowering her gaze and tracing where her mal scar used to be lmao* 'to everyone' *her raising her gaze to him again* The music swelling as she walks up to him, her barely grazing her fingers against his collar, his eyes looking across hers as if in disbelief, her looking at his lips, and then her closing the gap between them. Him being a little stiff, indubitably from being shocked, and yet giving into it almost instinctively as if he can't help it. The violin coming in powerfully yet softly to emphasize the tenderness of it all. This thing has been made with so much love and I can't contain myself about it. Him opening his eyes half a second after Alina, almost as if waking up from a dream and then, following a relaxing of his facial muscles as he clearly regains his composure, immediately looking inscrutable. Her doubting herself, not losing eye contact as he stands up from the desk, but her sudden fear, regret, and embarrassment clear on her face. Her sides of her lips slowly rising giving way his own self mirroring her and breaking into smile and composing himself and breaking into smile again before saying 'Not many people surprise me, Miss Starkov'. Her now fully breaking out into a smile, her face a picture of unguarded joy, she looks down only to have his gaze follow her face. Both of them giddy in the other's presence and the audience can feel it. It feels like he is leaning in for another one when the sound of the door opening makes them spring apart, regaining their composures and standing at a respectable distance from each other. Her poorly suppressing a smile, him looking at her visibly, her mimicking him with a glance out of her periphery, causing her to give in to her smile completely. Him looking visibly distracted as he attempts to pay attention to whoever came into the room. the Jesper of it all Jesper the mega idiot not being able to control his face from doing a thing as he realises the person who caught him where he wasn't supposed to be is the same person he was making sexy eyes at before and yet regaining his composure in record time The poor stable hand actually being interested in Jesper and being adorable with Jesper just being like charm itself Can you believe looking at Jesper Llewellyn Fahey in the flesh and having him make sexy eyes at you and then forgetting about it? Because I simply cannot. The line about light role play? Felt a little not right. GO OFF STABLE HAND WHO PUSHED JESPER AGAINST A WALL AND KISSED HIM, HE LITERALLY SAID IM POPPING OFF AND

THEN HE DID Zoya Zoya saying fuck off to the random racist comment made by one of the guests, but she was racist to Alina herself? (I mean South Asian-East Asian hate is not uncommon so idk) David omg the cutie pie adjusting his hair at the fete HEARTRENDER FUCKING HUSBANDS Fedyor insisting on Ivan eating the sweet and Ivan's solemn head shake like no babe im on a diet and Fedyor being like heart eyes please eat the sweet my love and then Fedyor holding Ivan's face to make him nibble off a corner and Ivan's face splitting into a reluctant grin Kaz the actor Seeing Kaz the actor instead of Kaz the master of trickery and plans is an interesting thing Kanej being Kanej cute banter interaction, would recommend, 10/10 hints at Arken being sus The look Kaz gives Arken when Arken leaves, I really should have known, I was simply being a clown Darkling and the dumb royalty We love the Darkling suppressing his anger at these otkazat'sya rulers dissing the grisha and the little palace Alina's entrance The soft hum that we hear when Alina enters but we don't see her face Alina's adorable peeking The Darkling's expression changing despite being done af with these mfers and instantaneously on catching a glimpse of Alina, she really has that power huh He really made it look like his pupils dilated and who knows maybe they did Him trying to call her out for not following protocol but him melting and saying 'you look lovely, by the way' Her saying 'you look like you needed saving' I can't breathe you're so cool ballroom at the little palace I must confess I expected the ballroom of the winter fete to be bigger

GENYADAVID looking at each other and pretending not to look at each other, my fucking heart Kanej being Kanej Kaz implying they're gonna try to trick the people into thinking that the fake sun summoner is real and Inej being done with his shit Alina's demonstration HER NAME IS ALINA STARKOV yes mfer The way people back away as he steps, god the power of this man Inej looking at Kaz omfg Okay him clapping the darkness into the room was cool af I love the shadow summoning effects so fucking much The first bit of light that Alina summons lighting up the gold parts of her black kefta, absolute perfection Alina just enjoying her power and then looking to Alek, his lips parting when she does Aw Fedyor looking at Ivan in a I told you she could do it way Genya and Fedyor exchanging glances as Alina besties THE CROWD SAYING SANKTA ALINA INEJ SAYING SANKTA ALINA WITH HALF A TEAR IN HER EYE DAMN THIS IS POWERFUL Jesper and Dima IMMEDIATELY TRANSITIONING TO JESPER SAYING 'SAINTS' AS A NAKED STABLE BOY GETS OFF OF HIM AGAHSJSJSJKS I CAN'T IM CACKLING AT THE AUDACITY OF THIS SHOW HOW ARE THEY SO PERFECT (his name's dima btw) Poor fucking Dima getting frightening orders from his superior as his hookup sneaks out with horses that are definitely not his Arken the little shit Ah Arken why'd you have to go and do this I was actually amused by you before the malyen factor omg Mal's here and someone saw him getting here apparat and faith? The apparat literally jumping out of the palace walls at Alina lol man I do love the religion angle of this universe and it would have been so fucking cool if it were explored a bit better ew apparat that grab was very violent mal/darkling interaction the darkling's reaction at his recognition of mal was so funny ah yes my arch nemesis, the other angle of this teen immortal love triangle how utterly delightful someone explain the darkling's 'are you alright' to mal, is it because Alina was worried sick, is it mind games, is it curiosity, what is it Im still don't know how to feel with them attaching a literal symbol to the sun summoner, to Alina's dreams and to the stag itself 'not until I see Alina' THE LOYAL HIMBO ENERGY IN THIS ONE ISTFG I have never known nose acting until I saw Ben Barnes, he uses his nose in his acting and it is absolutely wonderful; case in point, the 'i beg your pardon' to mal with the rage making his voice shake okay but why is every mal darkling interaction like, everything the prompt answer our baby mal gives and the satisfaction it brings to his face, fucking amazing the darkling being literally struck by this, his mouth literally agape, king this is a 20 year old lmao Baghra! OMG WE GOT A GLIMPSE OF BAGHRA'S FIRE YES Genya supremacy Genya beating Arken up let's fucking go Marie's plot influence and Racism? Yellowface? again? hmm bardugo (then again, I have no authority over this, I'm south asian) Ive already talked about how I'm interested in knowing if and how changing Marie's time and place of death going to influence the plot much because in the books it caused a chain reaction doing a lot of stuff Alina, my love Alina just, laughing with other Grisha, feeling at home, ah be still my treacherous heart Mal's confrontation scene with Alina that was in the books being retconned to Mal calling out to her body double, hmm, probably to make Mal more likeable, I don't have any feelings about this particularly Nadia and Fedyor Okay the both of them, smiling and walking, hand in hand, cute mlm wlw solidarity moment that I missed during the first watch Kanej interacting with Alina Why is Alina literally so adorable The music picking up as the Inferni catches sight of the 'limping man' (what? it was funny when he said it) Blue Irises Alina's face showing a certain sense of calm when Alek shows up Alina's face after the Darkling says 'for you' and presents her with blue irises is something like gasp okay you've got game sexy shadow man mal fite time omg I thought she was taking mal to talk to Baghra or smth not to kill him 🤡 aren't oprichnikis like

otkazat'sya or am I missing smth? Because Baghra's spy is obvs a fabrikator THE DESK SCENE omg the scene hath arriveth the fact that Alina can't stop smiling gods, the flirting 'I don't recall this, being part of the schedule' him turning back and saying 'it isn't' her hiding her face through the cover of smelling the flowers and just how coy she acts, like the literal eyelid batting Ma'am how embarrassing for you to have feelings rn these two are my absolute favs of all time the camera moving as they move from their spots on which they had to stand on to get the shot of their shadows almost kissing her nodding and smiling at him saying 'she'll probably be alright' like okay I'm ready for smooches kiss me already and him going 'don't you think' trying to savour this moment IM SORRY BUT THE FUCKING SCORE AT THE MOMENT THEIR LIPS MEET YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND I CANNOT COPE the way his hand is so big that he can almost hold her entire face in it the way she grips the back of his head I'm sorry I feel so disrespectful saying this but the sounds they make+I think that's a um titty grab or maybe it's just a holding someone and the placement was um unintended but I doubt it because everything in this fucking show is so intentional+ the lift up onto the desk+ the faces they make+ um god I'm going to hell for this but when they sort of grind into each other (I understand this is acting and they're just good at their job) but god does all of this make my heart race and also makes me happy I guess LITERAL GIGGLES I can't I'm soft 🥺🥺🥺 his little head shake at the knock on the door when he goes in for one last kiss before she gets off the desk and her eyes going all oy you, go get the door, I'm not going anywhere don't make whoever it is wait is so adorable and domestic her just standing there mouth agape to herself when he walks away HIM STILL FLUSHED AND BLUSHING AND HIS HAPPINESS CLEAR AS DAY ON HIS FACE WHEN HE OPENS THE DOOR his gaze flits to her when Ivan says Alina was the target 'I'll be waiting' love, I physically can't anymore Little cheek hold and walk away Her little smile to herself nearly fading before he jumps back in again to her surprise and to ours to hold her face with both his hands and kiss her one last time, and yes, he does kiss like he's being drafted for the war in the morning Her little mouth open and close and then her little smile to herself after he leaves I refuse to watch the rest of the episode right now because no let me steep in the darklina bliss

[bxthharmon]

Never Go Home Again, Pt. I || JJ Maybanks x Reader

Words: 2667

Series Warnings: violence / talking about abuse / toxic relationships / talking about nudes sex tapes and sex tapes / drugs / underage drinking

Pt. Warnings: self harm (kind of?)

Series Summary: A new girl, a shoebox of old memories, a past she’s trying to forget coincide with a hotheaded, but selfless, boy.  teenagers getting in way over their heads

Pt. Summary: the second time she saw him, it was at a kook party.

A/N: Okay so I KNOW i havent finished WB (im not even halfway lol) but i got this idea from rewatching euphoria. you dont have to look too closely to see that ive mirrored a couple of seens, but the plot, while inspired by euphoria, wont be the same. let me know what you think, or if you wanna be tagged!

Chapters linked in my masterlist.

“masterlist”

This story does follow the plot, so beware of any spoilers.

This town seemed too perfect. Sure, you were on the poor side of the town, but the houses were well kept and everyone was happy and friendly. It was as far from home as you could get. You hated this. The boxes stacked up in the boot, and the bags piled up in the seats behind you. The fact that you were over two and half thousand miles away from home. The fact that this was a new beginning you were sure you didn’t need. 

You watched as people loaded boats with shopping bags or crates of beer, and how they all seemed to be happy with their small roles in this small town. It was everything you hated and more.

You looked at your dad, in the seat next to you. He kept his eyes on the road, glancing down while he tried to find a radio station with decent music. He settled on reggae track by Bob Marley, and hummed along. You rolled your window down, smelling the salty air that blew in from the coast even as you wound your way further into the poor housing of this end of the island.

That was when you saw him.

He was on his bike, no helmet, his longish blonde hair waving around his face, and a baseball cap slung backwards over his head. You drove past, pushing your head out of the window to keep the view, and his eyes found yours in a way you couldn’t describe. You held his gaze until the car turned, pulling into a driveway. Your new house.

Your dad turned to you with a long sigh.

“I know you’re not happy about this.” he started, and you looked at his concerned face.

“I just don’t understand how moving almost three thousand miles will change anything.” you reasoned.

“Well, you know why. She’s not here, and you won’t have to deal with all of that shit that happened at school.”

“So we’re running away?”

“Y/N, just give this place a chance.”

You nodded. “Dad, how can we afford this?”

He looked at you defeatedly.

You continued, “I mean, with the divorce, and what she did, how could we afford the moving fees and the house? Cross-state moving fees are mad, let alone when you’re on an island too.”

“Hey,” he shook his head, “I’m the adult, I’ll worry about that.”

In your first week on the island, you made friends with a girl called Sarah. She was from Figure 8, but had explained the dynamics between the pogues and kooks to you, and invited you to a party. It was her boyfriend, Topper’s, but she explained that plenty of pogues and tourons would crash anyway.

You arrived without her, a pair of cycling shorts and a crop top thrown over your bikini in a minimal-effort kind of way. Your one stab at an effort was the blue and purple glitter dabbed over your cheek bone to recreate a highlighter effect. When you got there, you could immediately tell you were underdressed. Everyone else were in shirts and dresses, and your glitter was definitely too ‘city’ to be cool here, so you stuck out, obviously the only pogue there. You spent twenty minutes trying to find Sarah, picking up some vodka on your way around. 

Eventually, after leaving a few texts, you sat down on the kitchen counter and nursed your vodka. You had no idea how long you sat there for, but at some point, Sarah’s brother stormed in. You recognised him from one of Sarah’s instagram posts, but you knew he’d never seen you in person. He looked high. And angry.

“Get out of the fucking kitchen!” he was yelling, and people began to filter out, but due to your obscured path, you couldn’t get out. He turned on you.

“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded, “‘Cause I don’t fucking know you!”

“Uh,” you mumbled, “I’m Y/N, I got invited by a friend.”

Where the fuck was Sarah?

“Well I don’t know any Y/Ns. And I don’t see any fucking friends!” He yelled, slurring and stumbling. “Does anybody know Y/N?” 

You looked around the gathering crowd, trying to spot Sarah, hoping she would appear and get you out of this.

“I said, does anybody fucking know Y/N? What the fuck are you doing in this house?” He cornered you, and you were beginning to panic. How the fuck do I get out of this situation?

You didn’t even realise what you were doing, but you felt yourself grab a knife from the counter and thrust it towards him. He stumbled back and you stepped forwards.

“Don’t fucking yell at me!” you shouted, watching him lean back against the wall in fear. You didn’t even register doing it but you felt the blade slice your arm.

You stepped back, addressing the shocked audience. “By the way, I’m Y/N,” You looked around, finding those blue eyes you’d seen a week ago. “And I just moved here.”

You dropped the knife on the counter and pushed your way out of the house, pulling your phone out when you got to the pavement. You checked your messages with Sarah.

You: just got here, where r u?

You: girl, where u at?

You: sarah, i dont know anyone, where r u?

You: im going home, shit turned sour. Msg me later.

Putting your phone away, you looked around. You hardly knew where you were, and you were desperate to get home.

“That was quite a show.” You heard a voice behind you. Shit.

You turned, and saw your blonde haired boy. “Well I knew someone was gonna get hurt either way, so I chose to deescalate the situation, you know?”

He nodded, reaching for your arm, looking at the cut. “You need to get that looked at.” 

“You offering?” you asked, pushing down a smile. 

“Sure.” he shrugged. You looked at him. He looked at the ground, an uncharacteristic shyness taking him over, “Can I stay at yours?”

You watched him stare at the ground, and however much you wanted to ask, you chose not to. “Sure, we just gotta be extra quiet.” 

He grinned, “‘Course.”

“Okay,” you sighed, “This is where I confess that I don’t actually know my way home.”

“We’ll work it out.” he grinned.

When you reached your house, learning that it was only a minute down the road from the blonde boy’s friend's house, you opened the door as quietly as possible, the pair of you pulling off your shoes and carrying them for extra quiet. You snuck up the stairs, trying to avoid the creaky stair boards, and pausing in terror every time there was a creak. By the time you’d made it to your room, the only other room upstairs being a bathroom, you both relaxed. You searched your moving boxes, finding your brother’s old sweat and tee for him, and going to the bathroom so that you could change into an oversized top and old gym shorts.

When you came back, a first aid kit in hand, the boy sat you down on the bed and began to address the cut.

You watched him work in silence. “What’s your name?” you whispered, and he glanced up at you, a smile on his lips.

“JJ.” he said simply, a small smirk adorning his lips as he finished dressing your arm.

You flopped down, so that you were lying on your back in the bed, and he looked at you with an odd sense of curiosity. “Lie down.” softly, you coaxed.

“Usually I get to know a girl before I get in her bed.” he joked, and the way you laughed made him want to freeze the moment in time. 

“Why do I feel like that’s not true?” you snarked.

He gasped, putting his hand to his chest in feigned hurt, “Oh Y/N, I’ve known you for an hour and you’re already breaking my heart!”

“What can I say?” you bantered, “I’m just pure femme fatale.”

He crawled onto the bed, resting his head on the pillows above you. “Oh,” he replied, “I’m sure.”

You flipped onto your stomach, looking at him, relaxed, head on the pillows, gazing down at you. “At home, there weren’t any guys like you.”

He laughed, unsure of himself, “Love, there aren’t any other guys like me.”

You hummed, fiddling with the corner of your throw blanket, looking at him through your lashes, you giggled. “You’re so full of shit.”

He grabbed a pillow and threw it straight at your head. You picked it up, your face scrunched up from the impact, and he laughed. You sat up, crossing your legs, and threw it back at his face, only he caught, laughing, saying something about you having a bad throw. He put the pillow back, and you crawled back up the bed, lying on your back, your arms touching as you both stared at the ceiling.

You glanced at him, taking how his warm tan contrasted the blue light of the moon that shone through the large window above your bed. You took in the way his muscles gave him definition, and how the top stretched slightly over his chest, and how his long blonde hair splayed over the pillow, your own, waist-length hair tickling his arm as you lay there. You took in the curve of his nose and the tiny, mischievous smirk that never seemed to leave his face. You took in his long eyelashes and the blue of his eyes and the pink of his cheeks.

At some point, you drifted off.

When you woke up, you were tucked into him, your legs tangled in his, hair spread over his arm. His eyes were still closed, and you didn’t move from your spot, keeping your eyes on his face.

“You know,” he murmured, “If you take a picture, it’d last longer.”

Blushing, you pulled away. “I don’t know what you’re on about.” you sat up, feeling his fingers trace the curve of your back as you moved out of his reach. You left the bed, looking back to see him sit up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, and you watched him take in the way your top fell over your frame. You searched your moving boxes again, looking for an outfit for the day. You really needed to move everything into the wardrobe. Eventually, you pulled out a bikini and shorts. You looked back at him, and he grinned at you.

You looked at him curiously, “What are you doing today, JJ?”

He thought for a second, electing against going home, but rather to go to John B’s for a day of weed and joking around. “Introducing you to my friends.” he shrugged, “The one who lives a minute down the road.”

You nodded, “What are we, in a relationship?” you joked, “Introducing me to your friends? Next thing I know I’ll be round for dinner.”

He felt dirty when you said that, shrinking into himself, hoping that you would never experience the shit that came with meeting his dad. You must have realised you’d hit a nerve, because you backtracked, saying you’d been stupid and whatever you’d said to upset him wasn’t intentional. When he looked back up, he saw how the tears of worry were building, and he immediately changed his demeanor, rushing forwards to hug you, assured you that it was all good. 

You went to get changed, leaving him in your room. 

He looked around. The corner was full of boxes yet to be unpacked, the open ones mainly clothes. There was a desk under the window, with some makeup, a book and a notebook thrown on top. The wardrobe doors were open, revealing that the few clothes that were in your wardrobe were very messily so, most either hung up or on the floor. There was a shelf above the hangers, with a shoebox pushed carefully to the side. He pulled it out, conscious that he was snooping. He pulled the lid off, and saw a set of pictures.

The first - you at a funfair when you were a little, a boy two years older (must be your brother) and a woman, almost identical to you, hugging you close. The second, you were older, perhaps twelve - you were wearing a Christmas onesie that matched the woman’s, your brother and dad laughing as you and the woman - your mother - danced around. The third - you were in a hospital gown, and your mother was crying, holding you close. 

There were more, but he didn’t look. Under the photos, there was a tiny crocheted rabbit and a baby blanket with little elephants on it. He heard your bathroom door open, and rushed to put the lid on, putting the box back. You walked in, smiling at him as you checked your phone.

Dad missed calls (6)

Bro missed calls (3)

Sarah missed calls (11)

You sighed, checking Sarah’s messages.

 Sarah: Sorry!! I heard what happened, i should hv been there. Meet up 2day?

You: Rain check? I met a guy last night and he wants to introduce me to his mates.

Sarah: U go girl!! Enjoy urself, msg me if u need me <3

You flicked off Sarah’s messages, glancing back at JJ, who was looking at your make up.

Mom: Darling, call me when you can.

The last text made you want to throw up, and you tossed your phone on the bed, drawing JJ’s attention back to you. “You okay?” he asks, and you nod, grabbing your purse and picking your phone back up, and getting ready to go.

“Okay, I’ll go down first, I’ll signal if there’s no one there so you can come down.” you ran down the stairs, checking the kitchen and living room, then giving JJ the all-clear. You left the house, letting him walk you to his friend’s place.

He took your hand, guiding your through the front door and into the house. You wrinkled your nose at the mess, food, clothes and empty cans littering the room. “This is a mess.” you muttered, stepping over an empty packet of sweets.

“His mom left when he was three and his dad’s missing, the lack of adults means… well, you can see what it means.”

You nodded, only just noticing a boy asleep on the sofa next to you. JJ leans over, sighing. “That’s Pope, I’ll go get John B and see if Kiara’s here.” he let go of your hand, walking down the hall, leaving you with the sleeping boy. You watched the boy shuffle and then open his eyes, jumping at the sight of a stranger standing over him. 

“Who are you?” he asked, sitting up and staring at you. 

“JJ’s friend.” you said, and he raised an eyebrow. 

“You’re the girl who cut herself.” he said, recognition relaxing his features.

“My reputation precedes me.” you laugh, and he stands up. 

“Food?” he offers, walking to the kitchen.

“Y’all have food here? It looks like you live off Swedish Fish and beer.” 

He grins, “That’s the life.” he jokes, pulling a slice of moldy bread from its packet, and then throwing it straight in the bin. “That said, John B does need to get groceries more.”

“I do?” you heard a voice behind you. You turned, and were met with the sight of a tall brunette boy. He stares at you for a second, and rather than Pope’s blunt recollection, he grins, “You’re Y/N, right?” You nod, “You left quite the impression at Topper’s party.”

“What can I say?” you laughed.

JJ came back from the hallway, accompanied by a girl. “You must be Y/N!” she greets, smiling brightly, “I’m Kiara.” 

“Well…” JJ pipes up, “Let's take the HMS out to the marsh and introduce Y/N to the OBX properly!”

“I’m down.” Kiara shrugged, “I don’t have any shifts today.” 

“Sure,” agreed Pope.

“Leave in twenty?” John B offered.