#pharma fic be like: grabs you grabs you grabs you grabs you

[lord-squiggletits]

New schedule ever since around sometime last week is eat, sleep, Pharma fic writing, repeat. And often the eating part ends up being optional

[swordsandholly]

Fancy

Ch 2: Just Be Nice to the Gentlemen, Fancy

Previous | Next | Ao3

NSFW | MDNI

Vampire! Poly 141 x Fem! Plus Size! Reader

Word Count: 7k

Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You’ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life.

Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate for the better.

A/N: Y’all are getting updates to two fics in a row bc my Wellbutrin has well and truly kicked in. Say thank you to big pharma or whatever

A week passes. You tucked that wad of cash into your special hiding spot behind the vent above your bed. It still feels like it’s burning a hole through you. You made lists of things everything you could possibly spend it on, how much each item costs individually, how much it might help if you save it. In the end, you decided - rather impulsively - to get all new water filters for your entire apartment. The shower head and both sinks. It eats away most of the cash but you’ve never felt so clean - never realized the amount of sludge sticking to your skin until it wasn’t anymore.

The four men haven’t come back, at least to your knowledge. Most likely they’re done with you after that single meeting. They’ve gone back to Cherry and you’re back to working as a server - having meager tips shoved down the bust of your dress and too rough hands grabbing your inner thighs.

After the gentile treatment you received, though, you feel a bit disgusted. Reminded that they choose to be this way. That vampires aren’t just like that, they aren’t made like that, they choose to treat you - to treat humans - terribly. It makes your gut churn with anger in a way it hasn’t since you were an over-achieving teen sneaking out to attend protests in the lower city square.

It is what it is. Life goes on.

The train lurches on your way to work, as usual. News and advertisements scroll along the screens lining the top of the cabin.

TWO DEAD: LOWER THIRD STREET - BOTH EXSANGUINATED

DISAPPEARANCES CONTINUE TO GROW IN NUMBER IN THE FRENCH QUARTER

ONCE AGAIN THE CITY COUNCIL OVERRULES SUIT FOR HUMAN REPRESENTATIVE CHAIR

UNIDENTIFIED SUBSTANCE FOUND IN JANE DOE

With grit teeth you tear your eyes away. People around you whisper, conspire about what might be going on. As if you all don’t already know what’s happening. As if there isn’t a cancer in this city centuries old.

Nothing is new under the constant night.

Life goes on.

You sigh, quietly checking yourself in the mirror before locking up your things in the employee break room and punching in your time card. Before you can even step foot toward the main floor, a girl with pitch black hair begins charging toward you.

“You!” Cherry stomps up to you, voice cracking with anger. Her platform boots raise her up above your level.

You nearly jump out of your skin, instinctively backing away and against the wall. “W-what -“

“You stole my clients!” She shrieks.

“I- what?”

“Cherry.” The owner warns, appearing behind her. A shadow looming over the two of you. A man ready to grab the scruffs of two warring kittens. A few other girls who just arrived for their shifts stare with wide, nervous eyes.

The last time there was a fight here a girl got her eye stabbed out.

“You took them! They’re my best paying clients and you took them! What did you do, huh? You suck their cocks for free?” Her face is barely an inch from yours and a sharp acrylic nail pokes your chest so harshly you’re surprised it doesn’t break skin.

It’s your turn to fume - face hot and hands balling into fists. “How dare you! I swear to god I-“

“Ladies!” The owner booms, grabbing both your shoulders, effectively putting an end to this little spat before it can escalate further. “Quiet. Our guests will hear you. Cherry, go smoke a cig and cool the fuck off. Fancy, follow me.”

You feel a bit like a child on their way to the principles office as you follow the owner toward the bar, wringing your hands and glancing around wildly. Despite your irritation, fear creeps through every part of you. The other girls are staring - whispering to each other behind perfectly manicured hands.

“I - sir - I really didn’t-“ You stop when that same gold tray is shoved into your hands.

“I don’t care what you did or didn’t do.” He sighs loudly. “They’re requesting you.”

“But I don’t-“

“I. Don’t. Care.” He points at you in much the same fashion as Cherry before him. “Your job is what our guests want you to do. So go do your job”

Your jaw clicks as you shut it. Cherry is glaring absolute fucking daggers at you from the back room, her sparking red dress nearly matching the shade of her face. You can’t blame her. You’re taking her clients, her paycheck, her survival. It makes you feel a bit monstrous, if you’re honest with yourself. There isn’t any time to focus on that too much as you’re ushered to the private booths. There’s no reason for you to give this up, either. If they want you they want you, and it’s their fault for kicking her to the curb.

It’s your survival too, at the end of the day.

It feels eerie to walk down this corridor again. To stand before that heavy curtain again. Your hands don’t shake this time, though. Even with the added tension from your previous interaction they remain steady.

They’re seated the same as before. Simon’s mask is different - a regular balaclava as opposed to the skull. You realize that his eyebrows and lashes are blonde - so strangely soft for such a harsh looking man. They’re all dressed far more casually, it seems. All the way down to Johnny’s sneakers that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe based on the brand. John has traded his suit coat for a simple one with sherpa lining. Kyle braided his hair since last time.

“Evenin’, Fancy.” John smiles warmly. The way it makes your heart flutter is utterly shameful.

“Hello.” You smile, tilting your head and setting down the tray. Same as before. Rinse and repeat. They ordered liquor this time - bourbon, you think. Maybe scotch. Same difference. “You’ve gotten me into trouble.”

“Have we, now?” John drapes an arm over the back of the booth.

“Cherry isn’t exactly happy.” You fake pout as you hand out the glasses. “Thinks I did something salacious to steal you away.”

“How do you know you didn’t?” John gives you a once over. Blue eyes dragging down every curve and angle of your body.

“I suppose I don’t.” You sigh. “Nothing in my right mind, though.”

“Sorry about that, love. It’s for your own good.”

“Right.” The only thing more powerful than plausible deniability is actual deniability. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Can get yer pretty little arse over here.” Johnny grabs you by the waist, setting you down in his lap. You gasp at the sudden motion, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders for balance.

“I think ‘little’ is a bit of a misnomer, there, hun.” You snicker.

“Aye, as it should be.” His hand wanders to pinch your hip.

“You’re a dog, Mr. MacTavish.”

“Och, ye wound me, lass.”

You glance over at Simon briefly, eyes meeting his. He tilts his head forward. Those dark eyes hold no less intensity than before. They take you in like they want to eat you whole. He probably does.

John must signal him - a nod or a curl of finger - because you’re being passed into the center of the booth again and set right up at John’s side. Vampire covens are simple things. Strong hierarchies that are rarely challenged unless a leader falls or fails spectacularly.

Top dog gets the chew toy.

“I like the change of attire.” You smile, tugging at the soft sherpa of his coat.

“Suits not your style?”

“They’re nice… I see so many of them, though.” You lean into his side, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. “Besides, this fits you better, I think. Matches the beard.”

You let your hand venture up to trace along his jaw, reveling in the gentle scratch of his beard. It’s pleasant. Well cared for. You briefly wonder what his budget for beard products is. He leans into the touch. You’ve always wondered how you to feel to them. Is it a gentle warmth or a scorching flame? Either way, they never seem to mind.

“You boys planning on talking business tonight?” You tilt your head.

“Ah, not tonight.” He chuckles, taking your hand and pressing a light kiss to the back of it. “Tonight is purely about rest and relaxation. Need it after the week we’ve had.”

Somehow the other three manage to melt into the background. You might not know much - if anything - about him, but John Price is the type of man to fill a room all on his own. You felt that the first time you saw him.

“I can certainly help with that.” You grin, letting your hand trail up his thigh. You move slowly, waiting to see how he reacts, and go to hook a leg across his lap to straddle him.

To your surprise, he just grabs your waist and sets you back into your seat. “Don’t need to do all that, luv. Just talk with us.”

Part of you wants to laugh. There’s no way guys like this are the lonely, chatty type. But then, as you take in his face, you can see the exhaustion in his eyes. Vampires don’t get bags under their eyes or stress lines, but it still shows. Still swirls in their irises so distinctly.

“Wanted to pick your brain about somethin’, actually.” John sighs, taking a slow sip from his drink.

You scoff. “Me?”

“You’re a smart girl.”

“Am I?” You can’t help but laugh. “What, you need help picking out some lingerie for your mistress?”

John rolls his eyes at you. Kyle chuckles behind him. They’re far more quiet than last time. At least, the little bit you remember form last time.

“Our company has had some recent… expansions.” John mulls his words over carefully, which sets of alarm bells in the back of your mind. “We want to take the opportunity to do something for the lower city.”

“Why?” You spit far too honestly - involuntarily dropping the facade of an escort. What are they doing to pull this out of you? Is it compulsion?

Just as John opens his mouth to answer you, a phone rings. Loud and piercing through the tension in the air. Simon sighs loudly and answers, speaking so low you aren’t sure if he’s speaking at all. All eyes are trained on him. Except yours. You look around at the strain in their faces. The dread.

Simon grunts something before hanging up. “We’ve got a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” John demands.

“The kind we can’t leave til’ tomorrow.”

There’s a collective groan throughout the room. Johnny looks like he wants to smash the closest thing he could find.

“Fuckin’ hell…Sorry, darling. Looks like we’ll have to resume this another time.” John sighs loudly and takes your hand to help pull you from the booth. He pauses with you off to the side - glancing over his shoulder and nodding to the others as they pass through the curtain before turning back to you. “Can I trouble you for a kiss at least? To tide me over?”

“Always.” Once again, the response is far too automatic for your liking. Then again, there are worse things than happily kissing a good looking man. Even if he is what he is.

John chuckles. It’s low and rich and causes you to lean forward despite yourself. Sometimes you forget just how alluring they’re built to be. Made to draw you in. An angler fish. John leans forward to meet you, still holding your hand in his. His lips are cool, a little rough but also gentle. There’s a hint of almost desperation in the way he pushes closer before who you can only assume is Simon clears his throat.

“Pay for a full night plus tip - as an apology for leaving so suddenly. Take the rest of the night, dove.” John smiles down at you and presses another tied roll of cash into your palm. “Don’t want my favorite girl having to scrape by for tips after we leave. Bad look, that.”

“T-thanks…” You murmur, keeping your eyes locked on him. Almost afraid to look down at the amount in your hand. There’s a heft to it that you both appreciate and are terrified of.

John pats your hand and leans forward to place a rather chaste kiss on your cheek before disappearing out the curtain just like that first time.

You’re not sure how much more unbridled tenderness you can handle.

~~~

It’s not even a full week before they’re back. This time, it’s just Kyle and Johnny who greet you on the other side of the curtain. That fact should relax you - not having to focus your attention on so many men should make it easier. Instead, it feels foreboding after the way they left last time. It makes your shoulders tense.

Why are you worried about John? A little voice in the back of your head questions. Why are you worried about a fucking vamp?

“Hello.” You murmur, setting the usual tray on the table seemingly in slow motion. “Just the two of you today?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” Kyle grins. “We’re more than enough company.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” You hum, passing out their drinks and sliding into the curved booth to get between them.

“Nothing to cure a shit week like blowin’ off a little steam with a pretty woman.” Kyle tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his other hand coming to rest on your thigh. Dogs without their leashes.

You hum. “Work got you down? You had that ‘problem’ last time.”

“Och, aye. Been a right bitch lately.” Johnny groans, tilting his head back and slinging an arm around your shoulders on the back of the booth. “At least we got that one bit sorted.”

“It was your own damn fault.” Kyle scoffs at him.

“Oi. Maybe if you payed attention to who-“

Kyle grabs Johnny’s lips, pinching them shut. “Price said not in front of the girl.”

You glance between them. The last thing you need is to be sat in the middle of a vampire brawl. Goodbye mortal plane if so.

That seems to be enough to get Johnny to drop it, opting to throw back his drink in one fell swoop and scoot in closer to you, strong arm looping around your waist.

Kyle’s hands trace down over your shoulders. “You’re a fuckin’ luxury, baby girl.”

“Can I have a kiss, hen?” Johnny leans close, fingers tracing your jaw.

Your lip quirks up. “Can you afford a kiss? Seeing as I’m such a luxury, apparently.”

It’s Kyle who moves next - pulling you fully into his lap and pushing you further into Johnny. “We can afford much more than that, love.”

The tip of a fang grazes your neck. It’s slow, gentile, not nearly enough to break the skin. Not quite a threat.

A promise.

It’s barely a hair of movement. A slight tilt, a minute lean and your lips press against Johnny’s. His lips are cold but softer than you expected. Your hands find his shoulders, his tongue darts across your lower lip and you part for him. A well memorized dance. Kyle’s hands drag up your hips to rest on your waist, holding you in place between them.

“D’you have any idea how good you smell?” Kyle murmurs in your ear.

“Or taste.” Johnny sighs into your lips. You pull back, snickering and wiping your lipstick off his lips. He has the prettiest, dopiest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Come home with us?” Kyle asks, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “We’ll take such good care of you.”

“You just got here.” You murmur.

“An’ now we’re askin’ if ye’d like tae come home with us.” Johnny grins.

You tilt your head back, debating on how to ask about pay. It’s a question that needs to be asked, but a sensitive one at the same time. You don’t want to offend, but you don’t want to end up walking away from their home empty handed. Just as you go to open your mouth and subtly talk rates, you’re cut off.

“How’s 5k sound, lovie?” Kyle murmurs. Are they fucking mind readers?

You pray they don’t notice the way you choke briefly, body tensing for a fraction of a second. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit! That’s more than twice what you make in month.

“I’ll take that bewildered stare as a yes.” He laughs, moving a hand from your waist to knead at your hip.

They call a car. You don’t have to explain where you’re going to anyone - being pressed between them is enough. It used to be a little shameful for you to walk out on a man’s arm for the whole club to see. When you were young and not quite so resigned to the state of the world - when you hadn’t quite realized that the only god you should care for is green and made of paper. These days you couldn’t care less. They all know, and they’re all taking part in the same debauchery (or jealous that they can’t afford to.) It’s all goods and services, at the end of the day.

Johnny wastes no time pulling you into his lap as soon as you climb into the car - a massive, black SUV that still smells brand new. At least the seats are soft on your knees as you hover over his lap.

“No, no, full weight on me, bonnie.” He grabs your hips and pushes you to sit on his thighs. “Tha’s it.”

His hand disappears under your skirt, two fingers tracing up your sex through the thin cloth of your underwear. Messily grinding while placing sloppy, open mouth kisses along your neck and shoulder. You gasp and whine as he presses against your clit. Just enough to tease, always moving away before you can properly grind down on him. Fucking tease. Kyle watches with an appreciative grin lazily spread across his face.

Your eyes widen to saucers as you pull up to the building. One of the biggest residential skyscrapers in the city. A glowing paragon. One of only five you can see at all times from any part of the city. You’re pretty sure, if you could get to the top, that you would be able to point out your apartment. If you could see it through the smog, that is.

Kyle pins you to the wall of the elevator, lips intertwined with yours and a hand twisted in your hair. Yours knot into the material of his coat. He tastes like liquor and something you can’t quite place. Something sweeter than candy and far more satisfying.

You glance over his shoulder at Johnny just as the man readjusts his pants. He grins, keeping his hand there to palm himself as soon as he catches your eye.

Cheeky bastard.

The elevator stops so gently you might have missed it if not for the dinging and the doors parting. Kyle pulls you out into a small foyer while Johnny fumbles for a keycard.

You think you might have a heart attack when they slip you through one of the two massive front doors. It has to take up the entire floor - or at least most of it. There’s a whole pool on the right side of the balcony. An area that looks like a greenhouse mirrors it to the left. Floor to ceiling windows allow you to see the faux stars so clearly up here.

“Do you all live here?” You ask quietly, staring around the massive penthouse.

The decor is simple. Dark, heavy woods and expensive, rich toned fabrics. It doesn’t have that sterile air that so many vampire homes have. It looks lived in. Used. Even with the obviously untouched kitchen. To this day you don’t understand why vampire homes have them at all. A formality, you suppose.

Johnny nods. “Och, aye, but John and Si are… workin’.”

You decide it’s probably smartest not to pry into whatever “work” means. “So, the mice will play while the cats are away?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Kyle nods, a little smirk playing across his face.

You glance away, debating on asking a possibly invasive question. You can’t ever be too careful with the hierarchy of covens. “And John doesn’t mind you… having me first?”

They blink at you for a moment before bursting out laughing. Your face heats. It makes you feel childish, as if you asked a stupid question. It’s not a stupid question. It’s perfectly valid! At least thats what you’ve heard from other working girls…

“Oh, no, doll. He doesn’t care.” Kyle grins and hooks an arm around your shoulders.

“Might be a bit miffed he wasnae here tae join in on the fun but he’s not jealous like tha’.” Johnny mimics him with an arm around your waist as they pull you to the side.

The two exchange a look briefly with grins plastered across their faces before turning you to the right and leading you down a short hallway. A large, wooden door opens into a bedroom that could swallow your apartment whole. The decor is a bit chaotic - clothes lay across the floor leading to the bathroom and two walls are covered from the floor to halfway up with drawings and paintings.

You know what you’re here for but you can’t help wandering over to them and staring. They’re so intricate. Every detail rendered perfectly. Some are from the city, others are from far away places you aren’t sure exist anymore. A few portraits of the boys here and there and some other people you don’t know. A sketch of a man with scars littering his strong face catches your eye.

“Whose are these?” You ask in a hushed whisper, as if speaking too loudly will disrupt them.

“Ah, mine.” Johnny saunters up behind you, hands resting on your broad hips.

“They’re beautiful…” You’ve only seen art like this in the museums you visited in school.

“Could do one of ye. Ye’d make a bonnie portrait.” He murmurs, pressing his cheek to yours.

Your gut reaction is to say yes. Is that how you want to be remembered, though? Just another face only immortalized on some creature’s wall. A nameless face from eras gone by. Would he write your name down? Would they remember you in a hundred years? In fifty years? In ten, even?

You settle on a gentle “Maybe.”

Johnny takes the hint, turning you toward the bed where Kyle is already leaned. “Gonnae tear a hole in my damn pants if we donnae get a move on.”

The bed is huge, to say the least. Circular and outfitted with layers upon layers of soft pillows and probably the highest thread count sheets you’ve ever seen. It’s unmade, the comforter falling halfway off one side of it. Not that you need it for what’s to come.

Johnny kneels behind you as soon as you step between Kyle’s legs where he’s sat on the bed. Deft hands unbuckle the straps of your heels. Little nips and kisses trail up your thighs. Kyle reaches around you and presses his lips to yours - so softly - before carefully pulling down the zipper of your dress.

It’s so easy to let them take charge. To be a doll for them to do as they please. There are worse things in life than being delicately undressed by two handsome (and well paying) men. Their hands are far more gentle than you expected while they strip you, muttering little appreciative hums and compliments so low that you almost miss them. You stand bare before them, letting them take you in. Hands and eyes roaming. Johnny presses a sweet kiss to your cunt before standing, sending a little jolt up your spine.

He grins like he won some game you didn’t even know you were playing.

You turn to carefully peel off Johnny’s shirt. Your lip catches in your teeth as you run your hands over hard muscle and through a layer of thick, downy hair that leads to the waistband of his pants. So distracted by the sight before you that you don’t notice Kyle pressing against your back, locking you between them as they kiss above you. A shiver runs through you as you watch their jaws flex and hands grapple for one another.

Fucking Christ.

Sometimes you forget how good it is to fuck people you’re actually attracted to. Even if they are paying customers the same as the rest.

An unceremonious squeak escapes you when you’re suddenly flung onto the bed. Not hard enough to hurt but enough to bounce until Johnny appears on top of you, fingers pinching at the soft fat on your sides and laving at your neck with a cool tongue. He keeps his teeth out of the way as he moves down your body to take your nipple between his lips. Much appreciated.

“Need a taste, bonnie. Ye smell so good. So sweet.” Johnny whines, kneeling between your legs. You watch him lower himself slowly as Kyle slots in behind you, shirt long forgone and hands tracing up your sides to knead at your breasts.

As much as you want to pout at not getting to see Kyle undress, you can’t focus on much other than Johnny’s mouth diving into you. Your instinct is to close your legs at the sudden onslaught, but Johnny’s hands keep them solidly in place - spread wide and hooked around his arms.

“Fuck.” You gasp, head tilting back onto Kyle’s shoulder. Your hand wanders down, carding through Johnny’s mo-hawk. He places a harsh suck to your clit and your fingers tighten around the hair at the base of his neck involuntarily pushing him further into you.

You expect him to be upset, for a brief moment, that you’ve been too rough with him. Took too much charge. Instead he just keens desperately against you, picking up the pace - devouring you like a man starved.

“C-Christ, Johnny!” You gasp, fingers digging further into his scalp and the sheets.

“He likes it when you’re mean t’him.” Kyle murmurs in your ear. “Got him fuckin’ pussy drunk already.”

You roll your hips down onto his tongue as he flattens it against you, grinding his face into your pussy. He shifts, never breaking contact, and slips two thick fingers inside you. You whine, eyes screwed shut as you ride it out. Kyle grabs your chin, tilting you back into a kiss. All it takes is Johnny curling his fingers to send you toppling over the edge, back arching sharply.

Johnny rears back onto his haunches just as you peel your eyes back open, chin slick and shiny. His hands desperately pull at his belt and fly. “Cannae take it anymore.”

Kyle chuckles, smiling down at you. “You’d think after two centuries he’d learn a little patience.”

You smile back, quip dying in your throat as Johnny grinds his uncut cock between your folds - coating it in your slick. Fuck, he’s thick - punching every bit of air in your lungs as he pushes in.

“So fuckin’ warm.” He moans, brow furrowed and lips parted.

Lord help you, he’s beautiful. Even beyond that statuesque perfection all vampires have, he must have been gorgeous in life. Kyle is too, you realize as you tilt your head back to kiss him. You wonder what they would look like with ruddy cheeks - with faces warm as yours is. If Johnny would blush all the way down to his chest. If they tanned. Burnt. Freckled. Ran warm or cold. All the little differences that come with a beating heart.

All thoughts disappear at once as Johnny rolls his hips into you. You gasp, “Please.”

That’s all he needs, apparently, setting a brutal pace off the bat. Pushing you back into Kyle with every thrust with enough force that your teeth nearly knock together. Kyle’s fingers continue to pluck at your nipples. You can feel his still clothed cock pressing against your back, hips twitching at the brief friction.

“Fuck. Alright.” Kyle grunts, moving from behind you - leaving you flopping back on the bed with your hands fisting the sheets. You can hear his belt coming undone but can’t bring yourself to focus on it with Johnny relentlessly pumping into you. That is until Kyle taps the head of his cock against your lips, kneeling beside you.

He’s pretty. Not as thick as Johnny but perfectly proportioned. He doesn’t even have to ask or press forward, you want it between your lips. Seek it out. It’s cool on your tongue, calming under the relentlessness that is Johnny.

“Been tae long since we had somethin’ so nice an’ soft in our bed.” Johnny whines. As if that fact genuinely pains him.

Kyle hums in agreement, taking his time fucking into your mouth. “That it has.”

He reaches over to grab Johnny by the back of the neck, pulling him until their lips crash together. Johnny’s hands tighten where they hold you and Kyle’s pace picks up.

“Fuck, she likes tha’.” Johnny pulls back just enough to speak. “Clenchin’ down on me.”

All you can manage is a whine in response - body on fire. Every nerve feels like it’s pulsing, the whole of you utterly consumed by them. Johnny lifts your hips off the bed, arching your back so that he can fuck up into you. The new angle leaves you desperately moaning. Practically singing around Kyle’s cock as your climax hits you like a train. Rocking through you and tensing every muscle.

“Thassit, love, doin’ so good f’us.” Kyle cards his fingers through your hair. It’s strangely gentle, considering the way his cock now bullies the back of your throat while Johnny’s ruts against your g-spot. “How’s she feel, Johnny?”

The man in question just babbles incoherently, fingers digging into your wide hips enough that they’ll surely bruise. At least he’s aware enough not to crush you entirely. Kyle chuckles at him, the sound cutting off in a moan as you angle to take him deeper and wrap your hand around the length you can’t take.

“G-gonnae cum.” Johnny stutters, rhythm faltering and becoming more shallow as he approaches the edge. He pulls out with a choked groan, fucking his fist as he spills onto your thigh.

Kyle mercifully pulls away, letting you gasp for air. Your voice will be raw tomorrow, but fuck if it isn’t worth it when you’re getting fucked like that.

Johnny sighs, collapsing on his back. “Gi’ me a minute…”

“Gettin’ old, Johnny?” Kyle quips.

“Feck off.” He grunts, turning to look at you as you catch your breath. You can’t quite interpret the look in his eyes - whatever it may be - before Kyle is lifting you up at the waist.

“C’mere, love.” Kyle pulls you, sitting back on his haunches and turning your back to him. Your legs tremble uselessly, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he moves you into place. He doesn’t waste time sitting you on his cock. Kyle isn’t as rough as Johnny, taking his time with lifting off and dropping you onto his cock. A slow motion of your hips while his hands squeeze the soft layer over your waist.

“Fuck, Kyle…” You sigh, head lolling against his shoulder.

“Y’like that, baby?” He murmurs, kissing up your shoulder and neck. One hand moves from your waist to travel up the valley of your breasts. It doesn’t quite wrap around your throat, just rests at the base of it - index finger hooking into your necklace.

It’s a leisurely roll of your hips against each other. A break from the brutal pace before. He’s not desperate like Johnny - instead taking his time whispering sweet nothings and dirty words into your ear. Movements slow and easy.

You think, for a moment, that this is the closest you’ve ever been to “making love.”

Then again, maybe you’re just cock drunk.

You don’t notice Johnny getting up until he’s in front of you, hands on your thighs and lips crashing against yours. Already hard and leaking again after only a handful of minutes. Even for a vampire, that’s pretty damn impressive.

“Bonnie, please.” He moans into your mouth. Cool hands take yours and wrap them around his cock, setting a rhythm to match Kyle’s thrusts into you. “Yer fuckin’ perfect.”

It’s overwhelming. Kyle’s hands roam over your body as you bounce on his cock, draping himself over your back and nipping at your ear. Johnny’s tongue continues to explore every part of your mouth as he thrusts desperately into your hands. His fingers slip down to your clit, moving in leisurely circles that have you bucking forward into him.

“Gonna cum f’me, pretty girl?” Kyle groans into your ear. “Chokin’ my fuckin’, cock.”

You whine against Johnny’s lips, eyes screwed shut. He’s close again, pace quickening. His fingers roughly grind against your over sensitive clit. Someone is chanting, begging, and it takes longer than it should to realize it’s you. “Please, please, just - fuck - I can’t - fucking Christ-“

“Thassit, thassit, fuckin’ hell look at y’two.” Kyle pants, bottoming out with every thrust.

You cum with a choked cry, falling forward against Johnny as he coats your hands and moans. Kyle isn’t far behind, painting your back with a pretty, low groan and a jumble of praises for you and Johnny alike.

Your body feels like jelly, limbs trembling and weight leaned entirely against Johnny. He coos at you and soothes down your hair. A strong arm wraps around your shoulders to steady you. Kyle comes back with a warm rag - when he left, you’re not sure - gently wiping you down with a an unfamiliar level of care.

“I can do it.” You reach for the cloth.

“No, no, love.” He says gently, taking your hands and carefully cleaning them off with precision. He stops to rub the back of your hand with his thumb, something unreadable and warm behind his eyes.

“Drink this.” Johnny holds out a glass to you. When did he even get that?

“Tap water?” You frown slightly, looking him up and down.

“What’s wrong with tap?” He snorts. Oh. Right. Upper city.

“Thanks.” You murmur, chugging it greedily. The physical exhaustion begins to creep up your bones, your legs already practically useless. Keeping up with vampires is a young man’s game and you’re just starting to see the signs of aging out. “I better g-“

“Better lay down.” Kyle cuts you off, taking the glass and pushing your shoulders to lay flat on the bed.

You chew your lip. You don’t usually stay at client’s homes overnight. Then again… the sheets seem to envelope you in a cool cocoon. Calming on your too-hot skin and tired muscles. Muscles that do not want to walk all the way to the train depot. Besides, Johnny and Kyle have been so nice. If they want you to spend then night then what’s the harm, right? You’ll just sneak out in the morning.

So, you let them crawl into the bed bracketing you on either side. Johnny’s arm slings over your waist, cool breath puffing against the back of your neck. Kyle lays in front of you, placing small kisses across your face before pulling the comforter over the three of you.

There are worse fates than sleeping with two handsome men on high thread count sheets for a night…

You wake shivering violently. Between the cold air and Johnny and Kyle’s cool skin you feel like an icicle. Your throat burns and you croak out a groan as you try to sit up. Kyle was rougher than you’d realized in the moment. Johnny has your back pinned against his chest with a strong arm thrown around your waist, not even breathing. It’s so easy to forget that they don’t have to. Kyle truly looks like a statue like this. Entirely still, solid as marble and just as perfect.

You sigh, quietly and carefully wiggling your way off the bed. You don’t pay attention to whose clothes you grab - some tshirt that’s more fitted than you’d like but covers enough to get the job done. You hiss at the slight creak of the door. Neither Johnny nor Kyle stir. If they woke up, they don’t react to you padding out to the main house.

That first door across the hall is slightly ajar, a low stream of cool toned light pooling in the floor just below it. Against your better judgement, you stop, looking around before peeking inside. Not that you can make out much other than a large bed with a dark canopy pulled closed around it. The rest of the room looks barren - the only source of light coming from what you assume to be an attached bathroom.

“Lookin’ f’somethin’?” A baritone voice grunts behind you. You squeak quietly, whirling on your heel and coming face to face with Simon. Well, face to chest considering his sheer height.

“Sorry!” You croak, voice still hoarse. “I didn’t mean- I-“

“S’fine.” The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement. You hope it’s amusement, at least. “Need somethin’?”

“J-just getting some water.. sorry to bother you-“ You begin backing away, giving him a wide birth as you step toward the kitchen. Even without inhuman strength you fully believe this man could snap you in two.

“Come on, then.” He nods toward the kitchen, stepping in front of you. You nearly protest, but opt to just follow. He already caught you snooping at best - at worst he thinks you were planning to steal. If letting him accompany you keeps you alive and out of trouble with them then you’ll gladly trail behind this behemoth of a man.

You pause by the kitchen island as Simon goes to grab… a mug? You watch him fill an electric kettle and flick it on, digging through the cabinet to produce a small packet. A tea bag labeled Honey Vanilla Chamomile.

“Y-you don’t have to-“

“How’d our boys treat you?” Simon asks as he opens the little packet with deft fingers - oddly precise for the size of them.

“Good.” You blurt, hands wringing as you shift your weight side to side.

“Johnny behave himself?”

“The picture of civility.” You snort. If leaving bruises on your hips from fucking you six ways to Sunday counts as civil.

Simon chuckles but doesn’t say anything else. Just puts together a little mug of tea for you, stirring and steeping perfectly before pushing the thing across the counter. You take it slowly, eyeing him. Waiting for some sort of tell that you shouldn’t drink this. Then another shiver runs down your spine and you grab the warm cup happily.

“Should get a heating system put in…” Simon grumbles under his breath, looking around the apartment. You wonder just how much more he can see than you in the near pitch black environment.

“Why?” You snort. “You don’t need it.”

“You do.”

You blink at him rather stupidly - brain too tired and muddled to make sense of whatever that might mean. Probably just means humans in general. They probably have plenty of women and men over on a regular basis. Even if it is just for the night. Oddly considerate, either way.

“What’s the deal with the mask?” You blurt again, the slight lapse of silence putting you on edge.

Simon just shakes his head. “To ‘ide my face.”

“Booooring!” You boo, throwing out a dramatic thumbs down. To your surprise, you’re not met with annoyance. Just a deep chuckle and another shake of his head. “Thanks for the tea.”

Simon nods and snags the now empty mug from you. You chugged it far faster than you realized. It worked, too. Your voice isn’t as hoarse and your throat doesn’t sting when you swallow.

“I should probably…” You murmur, looking back toward the room where Johnny and Kyle are assumably still sleeping away.

Simon grunts in agreement, following you back to his own door. You don’t know what possesses you to stop beside him. To turn and meet his gaze with far less confidence than you’re used to wielding. You owe him for the tea, though.

“Do you want…uh…” You murmur, glancing into the room behind him.

Simon looks from you to the bed behind him - only to turn back with those smile lines forming in the corners of his eyes once again. “Not tonight, pretty girl. You’ve ‘ad enough.”

You jump involuntarily when his large hand cups your cheek - thumb caressing ever to gently over your cheekbone. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s the fact that non-sexual touches are so rare in your life, but either way you find yourself tilting into it. Just a little.

“Sleep well, sweet’eart.” With that he steps into his room, shutting the door with near deathly silence behind him.

Oh.

Okay.

You stare at his closed door for a few seconds too long, a slight furrow in your brow before turning back to Johnny’s room. The two of them haven’t moved much since you left, though Johnny has somehow ended up spread eagle across most of the bed. With some gentle maneuvering you manage to curl up in the crook of his outstretched arm with your head on his chest and back pressed against Kyle’s.

These men are going to be the death of you.

A/N: I wanted to put more into this chapter but I had to draw the line somewhere so it’s going to just have to get pushed to the next one.

Part of me was worried they’re fucking too early but then I remembered I can do what I want🫡

[solar4seekstron]

New Beginnings: Opened Wounds

TFIDW!MTMTE!Deadlock/Drift x Cybertronian!GN!Reader x TFIDW!MTMTE!Ratchet Part 2

Solars Indie Series

Part One, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

Introduction Indie Series

Content: 16+, mostly to help set up the last three chapters. Bit of a short chapter.

TW/Tags: Cute Sparkling moments, Silly Sparkling moments, angst, lots of angst, sad drift, a bit of Pharma x reader, mild toxic relationship, more cute sparkling moments, swearing.

Notes: Reader uses that thing that Knockout uses in the prime series when he’s polishing himself. I’m not sure what it is but reader is using it in this fic in a scene. Like the first fic showed Drift and Ratchet are together in this lord of the story.

It’s been a couple of days since Ratchet asked you what you think is a date.

You’re still not sure but there’s something there between you both. You were polishing your frame while Cyclonus was in the back gently holding Rubble who was nibbling on his sharp cervo.

Sitting on his berth while he watched you clean yourself up.

Cyclonus watched as you were polishing your frame. Especially your chest and neck.

Cyclonus then showed an annoyed expression with his optics almost closed while he sat there with his legs crossed.

A frown on his dermas while Rubble didn’t pay much mind and kept grabbing at his larger cervo. Trying to eat his larger digit with wide optics.

Cyclonus then chooses to speak.

“I think your frame is polished enough. Don’t want the paint coming off and flashing the old bot.” The tool stopped in your cervos and you turned to look at him, no longer facing the mirror in front of you.

A small smirk on your dermas knowing he’s joking.

You let out a chuckle and put the tool down. Taking a few steps in front of him and Rubble. Stopping then doing a small twirl as you spoke to him.

“You think this is enough? It’s been so long since I’ve dated anyone since…well.”

Cyclonus then stood up. Holding Rubble in his arms still as he made a few steps towards you. He then spoke once you trailed off. “Since Deadlock? It’s not like he’s going to try to get with you as far as we know. But you must also remember to think about yourself as well. Not just Rubble.”

You looked at him then at Rubble. Who was giggling a cooking as he looked at you with a bright smile. His optics were wide and full of joy.

You then looked back at him.

Your smile never went as you spoke again. Rubble looked at him as you spoke with a smile.

“Thanks, Cyclonus. If you don’t mind me asking. How are things going between you and that mini-con Tailgate? He seemed like a really sweetie.”

You teased and noticed a blush on his cheeks as he then looked away. Rubble let out a coo and a soft giggle. You let out a soft chuckle and placed a cervo on his shoulder so he looked back at you.

”Guess we both are taking big steps in our life. But tonight is my step. Thanks again for watching Rubble for me.” You said.

Cyclonus let out a hum then looked at Rubble who was patting his chest and continued to coo. You then checked the time and gently placed your cervo to hold Rubbles’ little one.

Making him look up at you. You then spoke in a soft voice, making him just stare at you with wide optics and a happy smile.

“You be good for Uncle Cy now, alright?”

You then boopeed his nose. Making him giggle and reach for you. You then kissed the top of his helm while his little cervos gently held your cheeks.

You stood straighter and looked at Cyclonus. His forehead then pressed against yours as you both closed your optics. This is a sign of trust in the warrior code between you both dating back to long ago.

You then walked to the door. Opening the door and looked back to wave at the two.

Cyclonus gently holding Rubbles little cervo making him wave back to you. While he continued to just nibble on his small cervo. You walked out.

The door closes behind you. Making your way to the bar/slash restaurant.

That’s where Ratchet said you’ll meet up yesterday.

As you got closer. You grew nervous. While he and possibly his partner not be the one. Even if this is a date or not. Getting out there is the path and big step you might need.

You got closer and closer. Soon stepping in and seeing other bots around either drinking or hanging out.

You then see Ratchet waving at you. He was sitting in a booth where his back was facing the door. He stood up and waited for you to get closer. You took a few steps closer and finally stood before him.

He placed his cervo on your shoulder and finally spoke.

”Glad you made it. Um, my partner isn’t here yet. Why don’t you take a seat and we can chat as we wait.” You nodded and sat down on the other side of the table. You both soon started a conversation.

He seemed so lost in your optics while you both spoke.

You kept chuckling at his stories where he’d have an outburst with his Conjunx.

He seemed to blush every time you complimented him.

He was honest about how he handled the situation during and before the war. You both soon speak about why you chose to join the ship.

After some time Ratchet then got a comm and soon had a bit of a small smile on his dermas. Looking back at you with almost sad optics. You looked at him confused.

His cervos then gently held yours that was on the table. You continued to look at him while he spoke. “There’s uh, another reason as to why I decided to ask you to meet me here. I wish to help you. To heal I mean.” You are more confused. Your smile shows to be confused.

He then lets your cervos go. And stood up. You didn’t t notice until now that Drift of all bots was standing there. Your optics widened as you watched Ratchet stand next to him. Placing a cervo on the side of his waist as the two looked at you.

Ratchet then spoke to you as he noticed your expression.

“I’ve heard of both your pasts and what he did to you. But maybe. To be set in the right mind I…and he can tell you about the time that passed since then.”

They can tell you weren’t sure. You looked away for a moment. The two looked at each other and then looked back at you. Waiting for your answer.

But you then looked back at the two. Speaking while having a serious expression on your face.

“You had your five minutes.”

Your tone is serious. The two gulped. Then sitting down. Ratchet takes his place once more in front of you while Drift is more inside the booth. You stared at Ratchet as he spoke.

Avoid eye contact and even give him attention.

Ratchet will go on to tell you about his adventures and how he and Drift met before the start of the war. And then after the war. The two meet each other. Drift remained silent while he looked down. You can tell he glanced at you a couple of times by the corner of your optic. Your expression remained firm.

Ratchet then told you how the two reunited and released their feelings for each other.

The two became Conjunx a couple of months before joining the ship. Your sparkling Rubble soon appears in your helm as you stare down Ratchet. Who seems to be struggling a bit. He stopped for a moment.

He then glanced at Drift. Then back at you with determination.

“Why don’t you? Why don’t you and Drift try catching up? He can tell you himself and maybe catch up. See how much he changed just by the way he acts and such!”

He speaks likes as if Drift isn’t next to him. Drift then looks at him with optics that say “No no no no.” The two then looked at you. Their five minutes were up. But Ratchet said all these things that made him sound. So different.

Your helm slowly turns so that you’ll glance at him. You've never seen him so nervous before and is a surprise he’s even shaking a little.

You then let out an annoyed sigh. Nodding.

Ratchet smiled a little. Drift had a very scared and nervous smile. You then spoke once more. Making Drift shake a little. “But just me and him. We both have a lot to catch up it seems…..”

Ratchet places his Cervo on Drift's shoulder.

The two looked at each other while Ratchet gave him a reassuring smile. But Drift seemed unsure. You then watched as Ratchet went to sit at the bar. Swerve seems to start a conversation with Ratchet once he sits down. You then looked at Drift.

Who flinched a bit when you turned to him? He was staring at you. You two remained silent after he scooted to sit in front of you at the opposite side of the table.

A cervo over the other while your optics looked down at them. Drift just looked down as well while you both tried to find words. You finally spoke though when you noticed he had sword handles. “Tell me.”

He looked up at you as you spoke. “Do you still….use them.”

Drift looked back down at his cervos as he responded. “I never stopped. They’re just…a part of me. I can never replace them.”

You listened carefully. Having looked back at him when he finally spoke.

He continued. “I…I screwed up when I left. You were always stronger than me. I wanted to stay and was able to convince. But seeing you become one of the greatest Decepticons and was just seen as your Conjunx then a once great Decepticon. I was scared you’d leave me. And so..I left.”

-Flashback-

Deadlock can be seen in his shared berth with you. You always slept so peacefully next to him. A smile on your dermas. Laying on your side facing him. He was on his back with an arm under his helm. His helm turned toward you. His optics almost closed.

You both have fought against a team of Autobots. So you both were pretty tuckered out. Deadlock would then turn his frame to lay on his side.

He moved his other cervo to gently hold your cheek. The smile you already had grew a bit wider. Knowing the touch of your Conjunx. His optics are so sad. Slowly forming tears as he stared at you.

Little did he know, a little spark was slowly forming under your spark chamber that’ll move to your stomach the next day. He leaned closer to your helm. Placing a soft kiss on your forehead and gently whispering ‘I love you’ while tears fell.

-End of Flashback-

You just stared at him. You felt yourself growing more emotional. But you also reminded yourself that you cried enough after he left you with the Decepticons.

You had a sparkling now. Drift continued to stare at you. Waiting for you to speak.

You straightened yourself out and finally spoke. Not paying much attention to Ratchet anymore. Who was currently watching with his digits over the counter and only the top of his helm? Now behind the counter, Swerve stood next to him cleaning the inside of a cup with an “I’m too tired for this crap.”

You opened your intake. “After you left..It was. Hard. You just abandoned me ‘cause you thought it was the right thing yet just poor self-doubt on your part! Not only that but a week later, I found out I am with sparkling. Your sparkling. I had to leave. Find sanctuary. Cyclonus was there to help me after he decided to leave as well.”

Drift's face showed shock. He was surprised at what you said. You looked away for a moment before continuing.

”After Rubble was born. Luckily healthy. It was so hard to find a home. Especially when you’re a Decepticon. No one cares even when you have a sparkling in your arms. Scared of the bots around them….Rubble is the only good thing now that you could ever give me.”

You glared at him. Drift looked down in shame. That’s until you sighed. Speaking once more. “You never acted like this. You have more shame and guilt over something. That isn’t like the deadlock I knew.”

Your glare softened a little. Then spoke once more. “Rubble has grown too fast because of me. And honestly. I’d rather he blame you as I do. Then to believe their sire can ever have a chance to change for the better. Scars already being there before he was even born.” You stood.

You then walked to be next to the table. “You changed Dift. But just you sitting here cowering isn’t enough to convince me. Have a nice afternoon Drift.”

You made your way to the exit. Drift watching you with sad optics. Some anger boiled in his spark as he noticed femmes and mechs noticing your frame. Ratchet could feel it through his spark and came over. Placed a cervo on his shoulder finally speaking to him. “We tried Drift. We can only give them time now.”

Drift slowly nodded. All the while tears fell from their optics. Ratchet comforted him as they both stayed seated

——————————————————————————

You made your way closer and closer to Cyclonus's room. But midway you stopped yourself. Other bots passing by, to paying much mind towards you. You then looked back and sighed for a moment.

Your mind is racing.

But then you took a deep breath. Making your way then to the main lobby where it’s more of a cafeteria. You then see a certain bot. Someone you didn’t expect to see for a very long time…..

Pharma. An old boss of yours. He seemed to be having lunch with a few other bots and didn’t notice you just yet.

You just walked out and made your way back to Cyclonus and you are sparkling.

Though you sadly got turned around. You start making your way down the hall toward your bathroom. That way you’ll have a better idea of where to go for Cyclonus's room. But before you can pass another hallway, you feel a cervo grabbing your wrist from behind.

Turning your helm toward the bot. Only for your frame to stand still when you see Pharma standing before you. With a sly grin on his dermas. Optics narrowed down at you before finally speaking.

” I didn’t think I’d see you ever again my dear.” You just stared at him. You tried to pull your wrist away while he spoke. Slowly pulling you closer his smile remains.

”After you left to work to fight against the Autobots. Thought you might’ve died. But then again you have always been a strong bot. Besides my dear. We should catch up. Or will your husband Deadlock not like that?’

You tried to find your words as you felt your frame get pulled closer to his. You then heard him chuckle and speak. His voice grew deeper.

“Oh, that’s right. The fool let you go.” His other cervo moved around your shoulders.

“Then let's hang out. Right now.” You just gave him a nod. You both make your way to the lobby where couples go to. The two then sat at a table together. He continued to have a grin on his dermas while you remained silent. He sat across from you with his cervos interlocked with each other as he smiled at you.

He then spoke, his smile giving a soft and warming feeling. But you knew it was a feeling too fake to feel real. A feeling you're too used to. He then ordered two drinks for you both.

As you held a glass in your cervo. Staring down at the yellow energon, he then spoke casually after taking a sip of his own. Letting out a satisfied hum before his optics were placed on you once more. “So, I hear you have a sparkling now. Do they take after drift? Or…Their Carrier?”

Your optics show almost surprise and concern. You both stared at each other until you finally spoke. “He’s a…perfect mix. Actually.”

He takes another sip before speaking again. “I hear he’s with someone else now. Sorry it didn’t work out my dear.” His cervo reached over to be over yours. He then. Gave it a gentle squeeze as he spoke once more.

”You know, you were always the one that got away. Being my assistant and all once before. You’d think I’d think better to take my chances than to wait.

You glance at his cervo then back to his optics. He then spoke once more. “Tell me, right now my dear. Are you currently seeing anyone?” You held your tongue for a moment. You would sit up a little straighter and decide it’s best to just lie and get out of the situation.”

”I currently am, but we aren’t that serious yet. Speaking of I should eat going to our date.” You then stood up and pulled your cervo away from under his. Only having taken two sips from the drink.

”Thank you for the drinks. But I must go. Goodnight.” You started to walk away and make it to the hallway. Not waiting for him to respond.

But before you can turn to another one, closer to your berth room. You felt two arms wrap around you. You didn’t even hear his steps. His dermas are next to your audio sensors. His voice was low and deep. ”You know. It must be fate that we meet again. I’ll be seeing you around. Even if it’s a cat-and-mouse game. I like it.”

You don’t look at him. But you know he’s staring at you with that shit-eating grin of his.

He finally let you go. Turning around walking back to the main room. You felt yourself shake a little before collecting yourself. This ship vacation is seriously not what you need. And you’re going to have to think of something.

You made your way to your berth room. Glancing behind you to make sure Pharma wasn’t watching. When it seemed like the coast was clear. You made your way closer and closer to Cyclonus's room. You used your key given to you by him to open it after you gave a couple of knocks.

You remained silent as you watched what was happening before you.

Little Rubble was sleeping peacefully on Cyclonus's berth. Cyclonus was on the floor with his aft up while his “friend” Tailgate was passed out too while laying on his back and his aft on the back of Cyclonus's head. Lying on top of him there seems to be baby energon food and liquid on the floor.

The two peacefully snored while Rubble was curled up closer to himself. Making him look like a ball. Primus, he’s so small. You would let out a sigh.

Closing the door behind you then locking it. Make your way to Rubble on the berth and gently sit near him before lying down to not wake him. You then gently brought him closer. So he’s closer to your helm and just over your chest.

Taking advantage of his small frame to keep him as close as possible.

You then felt his little cervo gently hold at your chin as he let out soft sparkling noises. Almost being awakened from his slumber.

His intake lets out soft coos as he tries to get comfortable again on his side. He doesn’t open his optics. Your cervo holding his small back. You continue to stare down at him.

Tears slowly form in your optics. Everything about today's date was shit. Your spark aches more when you notice a smile form on his tiny dermas. Knowing his carriers touch. You would feel exhaustion slowly overwhelm you. All you need is to just make sure Rubble will be safe. And with you…This vacation just turned into a mission.

—————————————————————————-

The next morning you thanked Cyclonus again for watching over Rubble. He begged you when Tailgate was out of audio hot to never tell a spark what you saw. You promised.

Doing the same with Rubble who was just staring at the ceiling the entire time. Not paying attention.

Tailgate waved at Rubble, and he did the same. But instead of waving he just held out his little cervo while opening and closing his his cervo. Giggling as you made your way back to your berth room.

Once at your berth room, you opened the door. Only to be stopped by Rodimus who wanted to see you. Finally reading on your background as a former Decepticon. He then spoke in a cheerful voice.”Hello beautiful! You must be the lovely former knight Y/N right?”j

You just looked at him and tried to give him your best smile. Even though you’re still exhausted. You chose to continue the conversation. “Yes, I am.”

He looked like he was about to speak. But then noticed Rubble who was grabbing at your chest. Still in your arms. Bright yellow optics stared at him with a neutral expression.

You watched as Rodimus and Rubble seemed to be having a staring contest. The two almost squinted their optics while they just stared at each other. You let out a soft chuckle. This honestly makes your morning in a way. Rodimus noticed straightened himself up and spoke once more.

”Sorry about that, just love little sparklings. Anyway, I just wanted to ask if you’d like to be a part of the high council that’s a part of this ship. Not like guard as in work for protecting.”

He glanced at Rubble who kept staring at him. Giving him the “Just try me” look with his sparkling face.

”Just a part of the council where we speak about a better way to protect the ship and where else we as strong bots can go. And other stuff like that. Your sparkling will be well protected and adored. You can also bring him along to meetings whenever you wish.” He gave his usual happy grin.

You took in his words for a moment. Then looking down at Rubble who just kept staring at Rodimus. You finally spoke. “Would you like some energon, Prime?”

Rubble then turns his helm to look at you. Rodimus let out a deep chuckle. “Heh, you can call me Rodimus, Y/N. Why don’t you come with me to the head council lobby for people who are members? I promise you both will be welcomed with open arms.

You let out a soft chuckle.

“All this because I was a strong warrior and fighter for the former Decepticons cause? I’m sure there are a lot more qualified mechs, neutral, and femme bots out here who would be better than me.”

You pointed it out. His grin only grew a bit wider.

”Well, that may in some ways be certain. But seeing what you did and also hearing from other Autobots who crossed paths with you many years before. You seem like the perfect that we need to move forward. Especially for those who are still handling to aftermath of the war.”

You took in his words carefully. Before giving him a nod.

Primus must’ve heard your prayers last night. ”I’d be honored to join you Rodimus. We both are. Aren’t we Rubble?” You both looked at Rubble still being held in your arm.

You both see that he is looking away. Acting fussy he let out almost no sound from his intake.

You both then chuckle. You walked to be sat him. He places a cervo on your upper back as he guides you to the main lobby he spoke about. Rubble continued to look away the entire time.

You have a bright smile on your dermas.

———————————————————————————

Your smile was very nonexistent right now.

Your optics furrowed and a frown only placed on your dermas. Your glare piercing and optics dim while no longer bright.

Rubble sitting on your lap while trying to eat his cervo while you remained in a high council chair. Rodimus at the head of the chair. Sitting next to you since he wishes to be by the sparkling. Continuing to have a grin and was reading a data pad in his cervos.

On the other side of the table. Out of all the bots. Sitting in the very chair across from you. Was drift himself. With a VERY scared and nervous smile on his dermas.

He just stared at you uncertain while Rubble at times would reach for him. But the both of you didn’t notice just yet. As the other bots took their time and Rodimus wasn’t paying much attention.

Drift would then answer a call through his comm. You continue to glare at him as he answers in a very nervous tone. His optics glance at the door, ceiling, you. Doing this back and forth for a few moments while speaking to Ratchet. “Hey- hun. Um can’t talk now…..yes…..yes….yeap they’re here….mhmm…yeap..bye bye.”

He stood straighter and interlocked his cervos together. His scared smile remained and his optics were scared and unsure. Trying his best to keep it together.

This was going to be a long meeting.

I swear I get way into the story sometimes. This won’t be a long chapter sadly but I hope the chapters will make up for it. Hopefully you guys enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Really excited to get to the next chapter soon.

As always a repost is appreciated and I hope you guys are having a good day and a happy new year! Next chapter will be released same time in the next hour for some final touch ups.

[zombified-queer]

OOOOF HYPNO KINK? Zombie you spoil me... giggles

YES PLEASE HYPNO KINK already forgot who we're hypnoing so I think. Everyone. Hypno everyone. They can take turns!!! Yknow ratchet could really use some hypno, that man needs a break. Put drift in a topping mood for once in his life and let him take care kf his big wife <3

On the other hand, thunderclash getting a little greedy and using hypno kink to make roddy like him for like five minutes. Rodimus wants to know what's so cool about this thing ratchet and drift are doing and, naturally, takes it to the most annoyingly kind and honorable guy he can think of. I imagine thunders has a grand time spoiling the prime.

Back to Swerve cuz I love that stupid bartender so so much, Rung SHOULD diagnose him mid-sex. Swerve is just like "wait what??" but then Rung grabs the vibrator because Swerve needs to stop thinking before he explodes.

Ough Tarn and pharma grrgrggrgrgrgrhrgrgr (i actually have nothing else to say on this they just make me unreasonable)

WHURL FLASHBANG i think if someone stepped on him sexually he'd thank them. Or non sexually, actually, I think his back is fucked up from his stupid massive tits in that stupid massive cockpit it would probably be a relief if someone just stepped on his back like. So many cracks, he's living the life fr

Coughs anyways how do we feel about Chromedome and/or Rewind cuz. Idk, I've only read mtmte/LL and I love them I love them so much but some people have some very strong opinions idk if I'm just missing context but. Anyways

AUGCK minimus save me. Save me. Minimus... Tiny teeny tiny minimus save me... Growls turbofox minimus hrhrhrgrgrgrgehrh. I read. Oh the tragedy. I read a fic with minimus/ravage and. SOBS. It was so good, please please it was so good I..... I'm never going to recover from it and IT'S A RAREPAIR NOOOOO please please understand my pain... I can't vro bro I cant...

📷

[Sheogorath voice] HYPNO KINK…………...FOR EVERYONE!!!

I think Rung can, should, and will diagnose Swerve mid-frag. I’m opening up my Funny List of Oneshots to add that to it as we speak.

I love Tarnma mostly because I always love when people try to kill each other as a form of flirtation. Their whole thing is so gross and unethical (adoring). I love when people make Tarn into Pharma’s little housewife.

Whirlybird deserves a good massage, 500 overloads, huge refineries full of energon, and love. <3

I love it when Rewind bullies the fuck out of CD. Sexually! That’s the good shit.

Minimus and Ravage need to get drinks and complain about the co-captains for hours at a time imo. I think it’d be funny.

[daddymus-mamatron]

8, 22, 39, 41 and 50 for the fic ask

What song would make a great fic (to either write or read)?

I Will Not Bow with D-16

I don't want to change the world I just want to leave it colder Light the fuse and burn it up Take the path that leads to nowhere All is lost again But I'm not giving in I will not bow, I will not break I will shut the world away

I could copy the whole song it just SCREAMS d-16

22. Who is your favorite character in [insert fic] and why?

Pharma in Take me back to Eden HE'S SUCH A DRAMA QUEEN fjsdhfjlksdhjflhdsf

39 Is any aspect of your writing process inspired by other writers or people? If so, who? Mhhhh…. Not really?? I never stick to one style, I just like using big words that means perfectly what I want. I'll give that to English, it has some specific ass words lmao

41 Link a fic that made you think, “Wow, I want to write like that.” Beyond The Rust Sea honestly anything by @littlenyao is brilliant, Electroliminal inspired me to draw buildings and inside spaces many many times. My sketch book has a few pages full of doodles from that fic.

It was so hard picking ONE there's so many amazing author in this fandom. Shout out to @heliopauseentertainments Course of Treatment because I re-read this fic at least once a week. UwU

50 Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about! I wanna talk about the MegOP!! Shots, I can't fucking believe you didn't realize M was flirting with OP, that ask fucking blew my mind it was so funny. I wanna tease something mhhh OH!! I know!! ULTIMATE TEASE

“RATTY!! SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH OPTIMUS!!!” The speedster grabbed the first gurney he could reach and rushed back to the waiting room. He would rather no-one - Ratty especially - have to drag Optimus’ unconscious frame anywhere. His conjux’s back was not what it had been and the Prime was, without a doubt, heavy. A finger pointed to the gurney as Drift looked at Optimus with worry-filled optics. “Please listen to me and lie down. We wouldn’t want to make Ratty -” screams could be heard from the medbay, and Drift cycled his optics with aggravation. “ - or Megatron worry about you, now, would we?” “OPTIMUS!” In the medbay, Megatron was struggling free from the connectors as he tried to get up, terror crushing his spark at the thought that he had somehow infected Optimus.

It's the start of the chapter too lmao. Nice

thanks for the ask I sent you a long ass one xD

[seobinghard]

TOXIC

➳ seonghwa thinks it's so funny that you're breaking up with him over something so small.

pairing: mafia!seonghwa x mafia!fem!reader ✫ wc: 300? ✫ tw: mentions of narcotics, murder, toxic relationship ✫ note: established!relationship. seonghwa and reader are heirs of notorious drug lords behind south korea's largest pharmaceutical companies ✫ a/n: i need to get this out of my system before i go insane. might write a full fic if i have time

"you're breaking up with me?"

seonghwa thinks it's absolutely hilarious that you're bringing up something as absurd as breaking up with him when you're literally at the mercy of his protection. he finds it even more ridiculous that you're standing in front of him under the pouring rain with nothing but a drenched black slip-on dress and rage in your eyes. your hair is soaked, blisters on your feet, mascara running down your cheeks.

all this 'drama'—he calls it—is foolish. you're overreacting. all he did was order a hit on your traitor step-brother. hell, you're not even blood-related. why are you so upset?

"y/n, darling, you know what i think?" your boyfriend chuckles coldly, "i think you're overreacting. now why don't you come inside and we'll have a proper talk, hm?" he's used to your tantrums. "you want another birkin? diamonds? we'll get you both, baby. now, come inside."

"fuck your diamonds."

now, thats new.

"c'mon, now. be good." he reaches for your arm, attempting to pull you under the shelter of his umbrella, but you jerk away, meeting his grip with a menacing glare.

"don't touch me." venom drips from your tongue.

"you really wanna do this?" seonghwa clicks his tongue in annoyance, patience running thin. "he's a traitor, y/n! get it in your head. big pharma wouldn't have known about the drug if it wasn't for your fucking traitor of a brother who leaked the NDA."

seonghwa's right. your step-brother is a traitor. he's always been loose in the head and you knew it was sooner or later before someone puts an end to his greed. you just can't wrap your head around how soon it is and that your boyfriend is the one to do it.

"you're a monster," you seethe.

seonghwa is unfazed, a crazed grin etched on his face as if he's used to your disgust. "i'm a monster? darling, i'm not the one passing a flesh-eating narcotic as a sedative to the market. your grandfather is."

thunder breaks through the clouded sky in an angry roar, as if solidifying seonghwa's statement. rage bubbles up to your throat in a lump that wrings at your larynx. "and yet your father is the one distributing it." you lean up to meet his face and smirk, "you're no better than me, so don't act like you're in the position to pass judgment. i didn't choose this life. but you did."

for the first time, seonghwa frowns at your words. his jaw clenches under your glacial gaze, his grip tightens.

"if anything, you're more guilty than i am, hwa."

the air grows colder. tears prick at your eyes, merging with the rain as it cascades down your face.

"i love you," seonghwa utters.

you can't even decipher if he means it.

"god," you chuckle softly, grabbing at your hair, "you're so fucked up. we're fucked up."

it was too late to save anything; any of you.

you're both ruined up products of your families, entangled in a web of lies and corruption beyond salvation. maybe that's why you cling to each other so desperately like moth and fire. because deep down, beneath the hateful words and the toxic back-and-forth of hurting each other, despite knowing all the despicable things he's done, you're still in love with seonghwa.

[transformerfan97]

I have no idea where this came from? But uhhhh...here have this fic I wrote today on my day off. Should I post a second chapter?

Anyway, sorry for any/all mistakes! Hope you all enjoy! Sorry I posted it on my phone so I couldn't add the "read more" thing!

This is the time that I've just made up for them. I know it's not 100% right but whatever. I got it from TFwiki at least:

Nano-klik: Seconds 

Klik: Minutes 

Groon: Hours 

Cycle: Days

Breem: Weeks

Orn: Months

Vorn: 1 year

Joor: 5 years

Deca cycle: 10 years 

Mega cycle: 50 years

Solar cycle: 100 years 

Stellar cycle: 1,000 years 

_________________________

"So when were you two gonna tell me about this?"

Prowl and Smokescreen looked up from their respective tables towards the door of the rec room. In it stood a very rare sight; a pissed off Bluestreak. His arms were crossed, doorwings held high in agitation, and face scowling. Two more very rare things followed this, Prowl bit his lip and looked to his elder brother and Smokescreen sighed then stood up to be the mature one. 

The rec room went dead silent to watch the trio. Everyone knew the three were brother's, and fights weren't uncommon. However, when a fight broke out it was usually between Smokescreen and Prowl with Bluestreak coming between them. To see Bluestreak mad at one was rare. If he was, he'd usually ask to speak with said brother privately, and sometimes he'd ask the other to join. To see him this mad, and at both, enough to approach them in a public setting? Something big happened.

"Blue-"

"When was I supposed to find out? Next time we see him? Or when he's dropping off his new sparkling? Or when the bot is dropping off a sparkling to us? Or, or, in a few hundred or thousand solar cycles when we run into a bot that looks just like us?!" Bluestreak growled. "Because you know that's how it'll happen!"

"Bluestreak!" Smokescreen yelled, "he's on his way to visit, and the bot is comin' with him."

Bluestreak's optics went wide at this, "Wh-what-? How do you know?"

"Because he told me."

"Oh of course he did." Prowl growled. 

Smokescreen rolled his optics and turned towards his middle brother. "He wanted it ta be a surprise for you two, and me. I didn' know the bot was comin' with until Jazz showed me the flight list." 

Bluestreak glared and Prowl rolled his optics. Smokescreen just threw his hands in the air and huffed. 

"Doesn't explain why you didn't tell me about the bot." 

"Because we knew you'd react exactly like this Bluestreak." Prowl waved a servo towards him, "cause a public scene, bring our family's personal business into the light, and throw a temper tantrum." Prowl scoffed at his little brother.

Bluestreak's optic twitched and he snarled, "you wanna see a temper tantrum Prowl?" He aimed his shoulder canon at his elder brother and growled, "I'll give you a fragging temper tantrum!"

Prowl's optics went wide at this. Red Alert, First Aid and Perceptor quickly jumped up and away from the table. 

"Bluestreak don't you-" before Prowl could finish Bluestreak fired a shot at his brother. Smokescreen grabbed the bot and pulled him out of the way before it could hit him. When Prowl looked back at his chair his optic twitched when he saw it sparking from the static shock his brother shot at him. He turned back to scream at said brother, but was punched in the mouth. Smokescreen grabbed Bluestreak's shoulders and pulled him back. Bluestreak struggled for a minute before he slammed his helm back against Smokescreen's chin. Smokescreen lost his balance and stumbled. Before he could catch his balance Bluestreak tackled him to the ground. 

"You- punch- two- punch- never- punch- tell- punch- me- punch- ANYTHING!" Bluestreak screamed in Praxian as he repeatedly punched Smokescreen's face and chassis. 

Prowl tackled his younger brother and held his arms down and pinned his legs with his knees. He glared at the struggling bot below him until Bluestreak finally stopped and laid flat to glare back. 

"You realize I could, and should, throw you in the brig and take your SpecOps title away for this? For unprovokingly attacking a commanding officer? And not just any, the-"

"The second in command of the Autobots." Bluestreak mocked. "S'not like anybot actually likes you or wants you to lead if something happens to Optimus Prime! For frags sake, he made you his second because if he didn't you'd whine and probably never have come. Not like you know the first thing about leading anyway." A smirk crossed Bluestreak's face suddenly, "besides you only raised through Praxian ranks, to get where you are now, because you're so good at sucking spike and spreading your legs."

Prowl went stiff at that. There were a lot of rumors as to how he so quickly rose through the ranks. The most popular one being he slept his way to the top. He could, and did, ignore most of them, but that one he hated the most. 

"You damn well know that isn't true." Prowl hissed. 

"That's why you're so good at being in this position, right?" Bluestreak hissed back. 

Prowl looked down and noticed what Bluestreak meant. Granted he was pinning his brother down so he couldn't move, it did look very sexual. 

"And with your own brother? That's fragging gross Prowl. Have some self respect." Bluestreak mocked. 

Prowl sat back on his knees and stared down at his brother with a blank look. He felt a servo on his shoulder and immediately recognized it as Smokescreen's. When he looked up at his older brother and saw the energon dripping from his nose and cracked optic he twitched. He inhaled to calm himself down and that's when he realized his own energon was dripping from his mouth. Raising a servo he felt it and when he pulled it away he was shocked at how much there was. Shrugging he looked down at Bluestreak and sighed. "Fraggit." Prowl pulled his arm back and punched Bluestreak right in the face three times. When he pulled back to deliver a fourth blow he was tackled to the floor. Looking up he wasn't all that shocked to see Jazz on top of him. What did shock him was when he felt the stasis cuffs put on him and himself being lifted and pushed out the door, followed by Smokescreen with Ironhide and Bluestreak with Red Alert. 

OoO

"I...I don't know what to say." Optimus said sadly as he looked at the three bots in front of him. "This kind of thing is expected of Red Alert, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, but even they don't shoot and attack one another."

"There are two accounts of Sideswipe putting Red Alert in the medbay, three of Sunstreaker putting Red Alert there, three of Red Alert putting Sideswipe there, four of Red Alert putting Sunstreaker there, and over ten of them all ending up there together because of fights." Prowl said, a slight annoyance to his voice. 

Red Alert went stiff at this. Prowl has access to a lot of information, especially as second in command, but even he shouldn't know medical information on bots. Unless it's critical of course. 

"Rung and Ratchet have told the three of us if we can't talk it out then to sort out our issues physically. Multiple times. Not that that's your business." Red Alert replied dryly. "How you even know our medical information is beyond me, and a breach of security and Autobot privacy."

"I'm second in command. Nothing is a breach for me." Prowl mumbled, his back to Red Alert. 

"I'm the head of security and security director. I know more than any bot what they should know and who should know what, and as second you do not have access to private medical records of other Autobots. Only Ratchet, Rung, First Aid, Swoop, Ambulon and Pharma have access. As well as Optimus Prime, only if he requires specific information for a valid reason. In fact a Conjunx can't access the other bots' medical records unless given permission." 

Prowl huffed and kept his back to Red Alert. Optimus watched his second and security director for a moment before sighing and leaning against the front of his desk. 

"Prowl, Red Alert is right. You have no right to that information. How did you acquire it?"

"This is really what we're focusing on? Not Bluestreak attacking Smokescreen and I? As well as making accusations against me?"

"What accusations?" Optimus asked, looking at Bluestreak. 

Bluestreak sat up straight when Optimus addressed him, but glanced at his brother and glared, "I didn't accuse Prowl of anything."

"There were plenty of Autobots in the rec room Bluestreak. You can't lie your way out of this one." Prowl growled at his brother. 

"Prowl, you an' Blue were speakin' Praxian. None of us had any idea what you were sayin'." Ironhide said, crossing his arms. 

"We were what?" Prowl asked. 

"Speakin'- bot are ya deaf?" Ironhide growled. 

"Ironhide please." Optimus raised a servo and Ironhide rolled his optics. "Smokescreen can you please tell us what Bluestreak and Prowl were saying?"

Smokescreen stared at him for a moment then blinked, "ummm...Blue knocked me out. I came round and saw Prowl on top of him on his knees." 

"So, no one understood what Prowl or Bluestreak were saying?" Optimus asked the other three. 

"I sorta caught a lil ov it, but ah was tryin' ta help Smokescreen." Jazz rubbed the back of his helm. 

"Can you tell us what you heard please Jazz?" Optimus asked. 

"You speak Praxian?" Smokescreen, Prowl, and Bluestreak all asked. 

Jazz smiled at the three, "jus' enough ta get by. Anyway, all ah really caught was Smokescreen and Prowl neva tellin' Bluestreak anythin'. Tha's when Bluestreak was hittin' Smokescreen. Then when Prowl jumped on Bluestreak ah rushed ta Smokescreen ta make sure he was okay, an' he was in stasis. All ah heard from there was Prowl threatenin' Bluestreak with strippin' his title, Bluestreak sayin' somethin' 'bout you an' Prowl and Prowl being second. Somethin' not being true an' tha' was it." 

Optimus nodded at his third then looked at the three bots. He had a feeling he could fill in what Bluestreak had said to Prowl. He exvented and shook his helm. The three weren't known for fighting, not like Red Alert and the twins, but even those three kept their more violent fights away from prying optics. What could've possibly happened to set this off? Especially to have provoked Bluestreak, of all bots, to attack his elder brothers? Two bots he looked up to and respected so much.

"What brought this on?"

"Prowl accusing Bluestreak of throwing temper tantrums is what really started it." Red Alert said. 

Prowl glared at Red Alert for that. 

"No, I mean, Bluestreak, why did you attack your brothers to begin with? What did they do to hurt you so deeply you felt the need to do this instead of communicating with them, or perhaps coming to Ratchet, Rung, Wheeljack or myself?"

"These two didn't tell me something about our family. That I had every right to know!" 

Smokescreen sighed and Prowl rolled his optics. 

"If you don't mind my asking, and if need be Jazz, Ironhide, and Red Alert can leave and we can call Rung in here, what is it?"

Smokescreen looked at the ceiling, Prowl stared dead ahead and Bluestreak crossed his arms. Optimus looked up at the three bots and went to ask them to leave, but before he could, Bluestreak said something in Praxian. Prowl replied in a hiss and Smokescreen mumbled an annoyed comment back. 

When Jazz suddenly broke out into a fit of laughter all the bots turned towards him. The three brothers with annoyed optics and the others with confused. 

"Th-thats why you three did tha'?" Jazz tried to control his laughing, but he couldn't. 

"Truly a professional Jazz." Prowl rolled his optics and turned back towards Optimus. 

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, but you'd do it too I bet...well...maybe not you...probably Bumblebee though…" Bluestreak mumbled. 

"In hindsight, it's pretty fragging funny. I'm with Jazz." Smokescreen said, sitting back. 

"So...what is it?" Optimus asked, immensely confused now. 

"Our Sire has a new mate." The three said in unison. 

[iamtrebleclefstories]

help, ‘cause I need saving - part one

six times Jo and Alex saved each other from horrible dates and the one time they didn’t 

a two-shot fic taking place in a Season 9 alternate universe

One

“Yeah, you know I just really think it’s weird for a woman to be a surgeon. I don’t know, it just doesn’t sit right with me. I feel like your skills would be of better use in…”

Jo drowned out the voice of the man sitting across from her, willing herself to not give an outburst as a result of her date’s misogynistic comments. She should’ve known that he would be a sexist asshole the moment she heard his name. No self-respecting guy goes by Trent. But no, William Trenton III, insisted on being called Trent because Billy was his grandpa and Will was his father. 

She wanted to bang her head against the table and throw a tortilla chip in Trent’s eyeball. Her patience was quickly fading and Jo was struggling to think of a good enough reason to bail on this guy that Stephanie had set her up with. From the corner of her eye, she watched as Alex Karev walked into the bar. Despite what she’d originally told him about she’d never sleep with him, Jo couldn’t deny that she was extremely attracted to him. It honestly wouldn’t take much from his part to get into her pants. Especially since she’d started spending more time on his service, learning from him and growing as a surgeon. They weren’t exactly friends, but ever since she had shared her tragic backstory with him, there was a sort of kinship between the two doctors. 

Hoping he would catch on to the hints she was dropping, Jo looked over at her superior with a desperate expression on her face. Locking eyes with her, Alex tilted his head in question at the intern. Jo motioned to her date with her head and mouthed the words “help me” as discreetly as she could. Alex raised an eyebrow and his lips twisted up into a smirk as he realized the situation. 

Schooling his expression, Alex walked over to the table with a serious look on his face, “Wilson!”

“Dr. Karev,” Jo feigned surprise. “Is something wrong?”

“Hate to break up your date, but we’re being paged for a trauma. Let’s go,” Alex pointed towards the door. “Now.”

Jo scurried up from the table, grabbed her purse, and mumbled an insincere apology to Trent as she exited the booth and followed Alex out the door. Once they were outside, Jo let out a sigh of relief, “Oh God, thank you so much. I thought my brain was going to melt if I kept talking to him for one more second.”

“That bad huh?” Alex chuckled. “You looked pretty miserable there.”

“It was horrible,” Jo leaned against the outside brick wall. “He kept talking about how the OR was no place for a woman and that my skills would be of better use in the kitchen when I told him that I’m a surgeon. He was a sexist asshole that I hope never has any children because his daughters will grow up oppressed and his sons will grow up to be oppressors.”

Alex nodded, an amused expression on his face, “So, it was worse than bad. Got it.” He leaned against the wall next to her. “Well, I’m glad you got out of that horrible date, but now you owe me a drink.”

“What?” Jo raised her eyebrows. 

“I was going on there to get a drink to wind down after a long day but instead I had to fake a page to get you out of there. I can’t exactly pop back in. So, now you owe me a drink to make up for the one I gave up to help you,” Alex stated, hands in his pockets.

“That’s fair,” Jo conceded. “Well, I know this place near my apartment that does buy two, get one half off beers. It’s not as nice as Joe’s but it’ll do the trick for one night.”

“Lead the way Wilson.”

+++

Two

He wasn't quite sure how he got here. But after friending an old high school classmate on Facebook, Alex found himself on probably one of the worst dates he'd ever been on with Britney Bowers from his high school English class. He was glad that he told her to meet him at Joe's so that he could fake a patient emergency and never call Britney back again.

“I think it’s just so important to eat healthy and live a clean lifestyle. People are so focused on all the illnesses there are nowadays but they refuse to see all the wonderful things that nature has to offer us. I guarantee you that none of that modern medicine stuff is necessary if people just ate the right foods. You see it all comes down to your gut. That’s the root of all the diseases. If we eat healthy then we don’t get sick and there’s no need for medication or vaccines or the healthcare field,” Britney’s ignorance seeped through as she voiced her opinion in conversation. “It’s such a scam, all of it. It’s just Big Pharma that wants your money and everyone is in on it. Why do you think doctors make such good money? I bet half the time they treat you, there’s nothing wrong with you or there’s something that can be remedied naturally that they’re refusing to acknowledge because it takes away from drug companies that stuff money in their pockets.”

“You do know I’m a surgeon, right?” Alex stared at her incredulously. 

Britney laughed awkwardly, "Oh, I'm not talking about you. I'm sure you aren't trying to scam people for their money. I'm just… you must know a lot of people who do."

"Nope, I don't," Alex shook his head. "Most of the people I work with are just trying to save your life, not take your money. We aren't the ones in charge of billing." 

"Huh," Britney stared at him dumbly. 

Much to his luck, Jo had been sitting at the bar witnessing the travesty and found it in herself to be merciful. She walked up to the table with her best innocent expression and spoke, "Dr. Karev, I'm so sorry, you told me not to bother you tonight, but I was monitoring Lily Phillips vitals and I noticed that her SATs started dropping again. I know her parents were hoping not to have to operate again, but I think you should come in and see if there's something more serious going on."

Alex’s eyebrows shot up when he saw who had come to his rescue. Realizing that this was his out, Alex stood up, “Crap. Yeah, lets go.” He turned to face Britney. “Listen, it was great catching up, but I’ve got to go.” 

“Oh, no worries, I get that you’re busy,” Britney flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder. “You can always call me and we can continue this another day.” 

“Sure,” Alex smiled awkwardly, trying not to glare when he heard Jo’s quiet snort. “Goodbye.” 

As soon as they were outside, Jo burst into laughter, “Wow, that was hard to watch. ‘There’s no need for medicines or vaccines or the healthcare field.’ Please, if it weren’t for modern medicine, natural selection would have weeded her out a long time ago.”

Alex laughed along with Jo, “You’re not wrong.” 

“How did you even meet her?” Jo asked as they walked over to their cars. 

“We went to high school together,” Alex huffed in annoyance. “She found me on Facebook and sent me a message. I answered like an idiot. She said that she moved here a couple months ago and was surprised to see that I was living here too. She asked if we could meet up and since I didn’t want to be a complete jerk, I said yes. I also kind of had a thing for her back in the day, so I guess I wanted to see what she was like after all these years. Not making that mistake again.” 

“Yikes,” Jo grimaced. “Well, on the bright side, now you know that you wouldn’t have worked anyway, being that she believes we’re in cahoots with Big Pharma.” 

“You’re right,” Alex chuckled. He looked over at Jo gratefully. Ever since Bailey’s wedding when they fake cried their way into a stranger’s hotel room two weeks ago, they became fast friends. Honestly, Jo was probably one of the people he trusted most in the world. Not to mention she was really hot, which was clouding Alex’s head with all kinds of confusing things, especially when his friends were hell-bent on insisting that he and Jo were more than friends. All he knew was that he enjoyed her company and found himself wanting to spend more time with her. “What do you say we go get some pizza and beers and eat them at my place?”

“Sounds great to me.” 

+++

Three

“So… I’m going on a date tonight.”

Alex raised his eyebrows as he looked over to Jo who’d come up next to him by the fourth floor nurses station, “Okay… and?”

“And, I need you to be on-call in case I need to get out of there,” Jo rested her chin in her hands. 

“You want me to sit by my phone all night waiting for you to call me just in case your date goes bad?” Alex made a face. “If you’re so worried, why are you going out with this guy anyway?”

“Because my drunk ass may have agreed to go on a date with him after you left me alone at Joe’s last night,” Jo narrowed her eyes. “This is why you can’t leave me alone while I’m drunk. I can’t be trusted. I make stupid decisions while drunk.”

“It wasn’t like I wanted to leave. I got paged,” Alex rolled his eyes.

“Ah, yes. I’m sure you tell all the girls that,” Jo grinned sarcastically. 

“Shut up,” Alex sighed and placed the chart down on the counter. “Where’s your date and what time is it at?”

“It’s at the movie theater ten minutes away from here,” Jo answered. “I haven’t been on a movie date since I was sixteen. That’s how I know that it’s going to be interesting…”

“Fine. I’ll be at Joe’s with my ringer on and a bottle of beer, trying to think of a creative way to bail you out,” Alex crossed his arms. “But if an hour goes by and you still haven’t called me, I’m going to assume it’s not horrible and I’ll worry about myself. Maybe I’ll pick up some chick and get laid.”

“You’re the best! I’ll text you later,” Jo smiled brightly as walked away to finish her shift. 

Sure enough, later that evening, Alex snorted when his phone lit up with a message from Jo. 

J: Save me please 

A: Dude, you haven’t even been there for 20 minutes

J: I know but I need to get out of here ASAP. He’s creepy and I feel uncomfortable.

   His name is Brock. BROCK! 

A: Don’t panic 

    I’m coming.

    What do you want me to do? Interrupt the theater?

J: Yes. I don’t know… just help me. And the movie hasn’t started yet. We’re just watching the previews. 

A: I’ll be there in ten minutes 

    I’m going to call and text you fifteen times now

    Don’t answer, it’s part of my plan

Ten minutes later, Alex was standing in front of the ticket booth bargaining with one of the workers. 

“Listen man, I don’t need to sneak into a movie. I’m a surgeon. I’ve got the twelve dollars you need to get in, but I’m telling you, this is an emergency.”

“I’m sorry sir, but I cannot let you in there. Especially now that the movie is about to start any second,” the young ticketmaster said. 

“Dude, you’re not getting it. I’m not asking to go in there. I’m asking you to get someone to interrupt the theater before the movie starts and get her,” Alex huffed. “Her phone is on silent, so she probably hasn’t realized that she had about twenty missed calls. Her brother was just in a car accident and might not live to see tomorrow. I think you can make an exception just this once.”

The teenager looked back and forth between Alex and the theater and sighed, “Fine. What’s her name again?” 

Back in the screening room, Jo was bouncing her leg anxiously as the lights began to dim, signaling the start of the film. She looked at Brock warily as he attempted to rest his hand on her thigh. She brushed it away and chewed on her lip, hoping that whatever plan Alex had in place would begin soon, so that she would have to be stuck watching the movie with this creep. 

Suddenly, the lights brightened again, and she watched as one of the teenaged workers walked into the front of the theater. 

“I’m so sorry for the inconvenience, but I’m looking for a Josephine Wilson.”

The moviegoers grumbled at the interruption, but Jo shot up in her seat, “Yes. That’s me!” 

The worker walked up the steps to her level and spoke, “I’m so sorry, ma’am. But your friend Alex is outside. He says he’s been trying to contact you and you haven’t answered.”

“We’re on a date, of course she hasn’t answered the damn phone,” Brock sneered. “What the hell could be more important than this?”

The teenager looked down apologetically, “He said that he’s called you about twenty times. It’s an emergency.”

Finally catching on to Alex’s plan, Jo suppressed a laugh. She looked down at her phone and indeed saw all the missed calls that he’d warned her not to answer, “Oh my God. It says he called me nineteen times. What happened?”

“Ma’am, your brother has been in an accident,” the worker—Vinny, as described by his name tag—gave her a sympathetic look. “I was told it was really bad.”

“Oh God,” Jo pressed a hand to her mouth and got to work on her fake tears. “Is… is he alive?”

“I’m not sure,” Vinny shook his head. “But I think you should come outside and head over the hospital with your friend. 

“Yes, yes of course,” Jo nodded as a couple tears made their way down her face. 

“I’ll go with you,” Brock stood up from his seat. 

“No!” Jo said, almost too quickly. Shaking her head, she held a hand up. “No. It’s alright. Stay here. Enjoy the movie. We can always go out another day.”

“Okay…” Brock sat back down and watched as Jo walked out of the theater, not realizing that he had no way of contacting her until it was too late. 

When Jo exited, she kept up her façade and ran straight into Alex’s arms, fake tears staining his shirt. He rubbed her back soothingly, “Hey. It’s okay. We’re gonna go see him now.” Alex looked back at the kid. “Thanks for your help.”

“No problem,” Vinny waved his hand. “I hope everything works out with your brother, ma’am.”

“Thank you,” Jo sniffed and wiped a couple tears. She looked up at Alex. “Can we go?”

“Yeah,” Alex led her out of Vinny’s view and into the parking lot. 

As soon as they entered the car, Jo and Alex both burst into laughter. Jo held her stomach as she laughed, “When I said yes to interrupting the theater, I didn’t think you’d actually do it.” Jo wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “My brother was in a horrible accident? Do you know how hard it was not to laugh at that? I don’t have a brother.”

“It was the first thing I could come up with,” Alex took a few deep breaths in an effort to calm his laughs. “You were great in there, though. The crying was very convincing.”

“Thanks,” Jo giggled. “You know he tried to come with me? Brock.”

“That right there—his name—should’ve been a red flag from the get go,” Alex chuckled. “You were right though, fake crying gets you out of everything.”

“Stick with me and maybe I’ll teach you some other tricks,” Jo grinned.

They stared at each other with mirth in their eyes for a few moments. There was no denying that there was something brewing between the two of them. As much as they tried to ignore it, there was this connection that neither of them could quite explain. It was comforting but electric at the same time. But neither of them were bold enough to take it any further. 

“What do you say we get some fried chicken and eat it in the car like we were raised to do?” Alex suggested. 

“I’d say… I think I love you,” Jo joked. “In all seriousness though, let’s get out of here before Brock comes looking for me.”

“Yeah, probably a good idea.”

+++

Four

“So you know how helping each other get out of dates now is our thing?” Alex said as he fell into step with Jo as she exited the intern locker room. 

“Is it now?” Jo raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Didn’t know that.”

“Oh come on. I’ve helped out get out of two really bad dates already, and I expect you to return the favor,” Alex gave her a sideways glance. 

“Mhmm,” Jo hummed. “What kind of trouble did you get yourself into this time, Karev?”

“I haven’t gotten myself into anything yet,” Alex placed his hands on his hips. “I’ve got a date tonight with this blonde chick named Tiffany. I met her last night while I was out grocery shopping. She seems pretty nice, normal, but then again, I met her in the frozen food section so who knows what she’s like. Anyway, I was hoping you’d be available to get me out of it in case things go horribly.”

“I’d love to, but it all depends on what time I get out of here tonight,” Jo sighed. “I’m on Medusa’s—I’m sorry, I mean Dr. Grey’s service today.”

“No you’re not,” Alex shook his head. “I switched with her.”

“What? Why?” Jo scrunched her eyebrows as they approached the elevator. “Is this because you want me available to bail you out?”

“No. Well… yes, but it’s not the only reason,” Alex pressed the elevator button. “Murphy was on my service and I know it’s been months but she still gives me those creepy, weird looks and I don’t feel like dealing with her today.”

Jo snorted in laughter, “You are such a douche.”

“Whatever. She knew what she was getting into when she slept with me,” Alex shrugged. “So, if I let you out when I leave, will you hang around in case I need you.”

“I guess,” Jo faked annoyance.

“Great, thanks.”

By the time the date rolled around, Alex had been pretty optimistic. Sure, Tiffany wasn’t the girl he wanted to go out with, but since he couldn’t date the one person he wanted to date, Alex was doing his best to try to find someone he could make it last with. So far, he wasn’t having the best luck.

It started out normal, great even. So great that for a while there, Alex thought about texting Jo and letting her know that maybe he wouldn’t need her tonight. He discovered that he was very wrong rather quickly. 

Tiffany was beautiful, he couldn’t deny that. But she was too clingy. To the point that it was actually scaring him. He was sure if this went any further and they broke up, he’d have an ex who wouldn’t take no for an answer—or worse, a stalker on his hands. 

Sending a quick text message to Jo under the table, he waited for a reply. 

A: Definitely going to need your help tonight

J: what happened?

A: She’s too clingy. Bad clingy. Creepy clingy. 

    Take a lock of my hair and clone me later clingy. 

J: Yikes. Where are you again?

A: The club across the street from that diner we like to eat at. 

    I should’ve known it would be bad when she suggested going to a club on the first date 

J: You think?

    I’ll be there in fifteen

A: Please hurry 

True to her word, fifteen minutes later, Alex watched as Jo entered the club and took a seat at the bar. He spent about five minutes looking back and forth between Tiffany and Jo, who’d taken to flirting with a couple guys that had come up to her in the short time since she’d arrived. Bouncing his leg impatiently, Alex sent another angry text to Jo. 

A: What the hell are you doing?

    You’re supposed to be helping me, remember? Not trying to get laid.

“Is everything okay?” Tiffany asked. “It’s just, you keep looking at your phone.”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Alex rubbed a hand on his neck awkwardly. 

In that moment, Alex heard a gasp from his right side. Jo had materialized and wore an angry expression, “You!”

“Me?” Alex pointed to himself, confused as to what her play was. 

“Oh my God. You don’t even remember me,” Jo clutched her drink in her hand. “I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re a hump ‘em and dump ‘em kind of guy.” 

“What did I do?” Alex widened his eyes as he waited for Jo’s cue. 

“What did you do? What did you do!” Jo’s eyes hesitated for a split second before she threw her drink in his face. “Thanks for the syphilis, you ASSHOLE!” She turned to face Tiffany before walking off. “Don’t waste your time!”

Sitting there in shock, Alex watched as Tiffany rose from the couch they'd been sitting on to look at Alex with a face of disgust, “And to think, I had picked out our kids names.” 

Once Tiffany grabbed her face and exited the club, Jo came back with a semi-apologetic, but mostly amused face, “I’m so sorry about your shirt, but that was awesome! I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“Yeah, I bet you’re having the time of your life right now,” Alex glared.

“Hey, you told me to get rid of her and that’s what I did,” Jo defended, a shit-eating grin on her face. “Come on, I have one of your old t-shirts in my car.”

“Why do you have one of my t-shirts in your car?” Alex scrunched his face in question. The thought of her having one of his shirts in her car did things to his brain that he wasn’t even sure how to vocalize. 

“It’s from the last time I crashed at your place on the nice, comfy couch I bought you,” Jo smiled. 

“Yeah, with my money.”

“Semantics,” Jo waved her hand. “Anyway, let’s get out of this hell hole and go to watch movies at your house.”

Alex rolled his eyes at her antics, “Fine.”

+++

Five 

Alex should’ve said no the moment April Kepner offered to set him up on a date. Knowing Kepner, he should’ve known what kind of thing he’d be getting himself into. But when she came up to him with a request from a former patient’s daughter who thought he was attractive, he found himself having trouble saying no and ended up agreeing to the date.

That’s how he ended up spending the past 20 minutes staring across the table at a woman who might as well have been the carbon copy of Izzie Stevens. 

He’d truly tried to give the woman a chance and not associate her with his ex-wife, but the longer they spoke, the more freaked out he was getting by the whole situation. Especially when she started talking about her love of baking.

“I’m gonna go use the bathroom real fast,” Alex started to stand from his seat.

“Oh yeah, no worries,” the woman waved her hand. 

The moment he stepped foot into the bathroom, Alex searched for his cellphone in his pocket and dialed the one number he needed to get him out of this situation. It rang four times before a voice came through the speakers.

“Hello?”

“Dude, I need you to get me out of here right now,” Alex whispered into the phone. “I’m at the bar and grill 20 minutes away. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t stand this for another minute.”

“What’s wrong with this one?” Jo chuckled on the other line. 

“She looks like my ex-wife,” Alex hissed into the phone. “She’s got strawberry blonde hair but they have the same face. Their brown eyes are the same. Sure her tits are smaller than Izzie 's were, but they even have the same creepy, overly perky laugh. And her name is Katherine. That was Izzie’s middle name. But she insists on me calling her Kitty Kat.” 

Jo snorted into the phone, “Gosh, you really know how to pick them. What do you want me to do? How are we going to play this?” 

"First of all, I didn't pick her," Alex paused. "Kepner set me up."

"Mistake number one right there," Jo giggled in amusement. "Okay, again, how do you want to play this?"

“I don’t know,” Alex shrugged helplessly. “Pretend you’re my girlfriend and come in here kicking and screaming at me because I’m a cheating asshole or something.” 

“Wow, you’re really desperate this time aren’t you. Aren’t you traumatized from what I did last time?” Jo laughed at his expense. “Okay, I’m changing out of my scrubs right now. Give me half an hour. I’ll figure out a story on my way there.”

“Thank you,” Alex sighed in relief. 

He made his way back to the table giving Kathrine an awkward smile as she continued to yap on and on about some cooking show she’d almost been a contestant on. He was about ready to gouge his eyes out with his fork when he saw Jo walk towards the outdoor area where he and Katherine were sitting with an oddly shaped bundle in her hands. 

“What the hell Alex? Tell me why I just got off the phone with your mother only to find out that you were supposedly at dinner with me, when you told me you were working late,” Jo exclaimed, causing the bundle in her arms to let out a cry. 

Alex stared at her in shock, wondering where the hell she had gotten a baby from. He hoped the very real confusion on his face would come across as shock to Katherine, who was sitting there, jaw dropped and eyes wide, watching the scene unfold. Alex opened his mouth, "Jo—"

"Don't, Alex. Just don't," Jo held up one hand as she rocked the now screaming baby. "I know things have been difficult since the baby was born, but I really expected more than this. I don't know when you stopped loving me, but I expected more respect as the mother of your child. I thought you'd have the decency to at least tell me the truth! Instead of lying to me and your mother, about where you were and who you were with."

Alex looked back and forth between Jo and Kathrine, unsure of what to say. Jo was really selling it this time and he did not want to throw her off by saying the wrong thing, "Jo, I—"

"Shut up, Alex. Just shut up and hold your son," Jo shoved the crying baby into his hands only to scoff when the child stopped crying immediately after landing in Alex's arms. "Of course! Of course he calms down as soon as you hold him. I'm done!" Jo threw her hands up in the air and turned on her feet back towards the car. 

Alex cradled the child close to his chest and looked up at Katherine, “I should go…" 

Much like Izzie used to do, Katherine turned up her nose indignantly, "Yes, and I think it's best if we never see each other again."

"Yup," Alex nodded sheepishly as he made his way out of the outdoor seating area and to Jo's car.

Rocking the small infant in one arm, Alex opened the car door with his free hand and sat inside the passenger seat, staring at Jo who smiled at him. 

“How was that for a rescue?” 

“Where the hell did you get this baby from?” Alex scrunched his face in question. “Please don’t tell me you stole some stranger’s baby.”

“I didn’t steal the baby,” Jo shook her head, a smile playing at her lips. She bent over to stroke the baby’s head. “I signed up to be one of the people that picks up the safe haven babies after they’re dropped off at the fire stations. I got the call about this little guy two minutes before you called me to get you out of your date. I picked him up and came to get you. Which honestly, I would’ve interrupted your date regardless because I wanted you to be the one to give him a check up. I’m supposed to head to the hospital with him now.”

Alex watched as Jo became entranced with the little boy currently resting in his arms. She was a natural when it came to kids, and it showed now as she fussed over a whole bunch of details he hadn’t thought of himself. He opened his mouth in confusion, “Wait, so you used a kid abandoned by his mother at a fire station to play our fake son and get me out of my date with my ex-wife’s doppelganger?”

“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up,” Jo took the infant from his hands and looked at him lovingly. “Come here you little guy. I know it must be scary to be away from your mommy, but I have to believe she did this because she thought she was giving you your best chance. She might not have been able to give you a home, but I will make sure that you end up in a very nice home, with some very nice people, who can give you all the love you deserve.” 

Seeing this side of Jo was incredibly sweet. She was so tender with the child resting in her arms, cuddling him so that he’d never know that he’d been abandoned; so that he would be surrounded with love. Alex knew instantly she would be an amazing mother one day. What scared him though, was that he’d begun picturing himself in that position with her. 

Jo sighed dreamily, “Okay. We’ve got to take him to the hospital for a check up and contact a social worker. If we don’t do it now, I’m afraid I’ll fall in love with him and take him home with me.” 

A crooked smile pulled at the corner of Alex’s lips, “Here, I’ll get him into the car seat and sit in the back with him. You drive.”

+++

Six

“That’s going to be fun. I’m especially excited for that kid’s next eighteen years.” 

They had just finished monitoring a newborn with the most difficult set of parents Alex had ever gotten a chance to work with. When he and Jo were paged down to OB for the case that morning, he never would’ve guessed that the parents would end up being coworkers who hated each other, hooked-up once, and ended up with a baby. But hey, not much surprised him these days. Still, the success of the little boy making it past the benchmark was a special moment for the two parents, who despite their differences were able to come together to make a decision in favor of their child's health. 

The situation inspired a conversation between Jo and Alex regarding workplace relationships. If Alex was being honest, he was a bit biased when it came to his answers. Ever since Jo had all but dragged him into that linen closet to celebrate their win against Cahill with powdered sugar donuts last night, he could not get her out of his mind. Working with her today made him realize just how much he enjoyed her company. They'd grown so close in the last couple months and if he let himself, he could see them potentially becoming more.

Deciding to take initiative, Alex turned towards Jo, “Hey, do you want to go get a beer?”

“Oh, I would love to. Especially after today, but I actually already have plans," Jo waved over to a guy standing in the hallway wearing pink scrubs. "Tomorrow night? Is that cool?”

“Yeah… yeah that’s cool,” Alex looked at the guy suspiciously. "So, you have a date tonight? With someone from OB?"

"Yeah," Jo smiled nervously. "I've been wanting to ask him out for a while now, but, well you know my luck when it comes to dating. Anyway, I finally got the balls to do it today. We’re just going to Joe’s."

“Huh,” Alex nodded. For the first time, Alex felt strange knowing that she would be going out on a date with someone else.  “Well, if you need help getting out of it, I’ll probably be hanging around the bar too.” 

“You know, I don’t think I’ll need you this time. I feel really good about this one,” Jo beamed. She looked over at the doctor in pink scrubs before turning back to Alex. “Jason is waiting for me. I’m going to go change for my date. I’ll see you later.” 

“Yeah, see you later,” Alex waved lamely at her. 

He seriously considered forgoing a drink at Joe’s altogether. He didn’t want to see the girl he was falling for having fun on a date with some guy that wore pink scrubs to work on a daily basis. But another side of him wanted to keep an eye on Jo and make sure she was okay. He wanted to be around in case something happened or that Jason guy tried to pull something fishy. 

When Jo first saw Jason, she was immediately attracted to him. Who wouldn’t? He was hot and delivered babies for a living. After going on failed date after failed date over the past few months, Jo wanted a win. Besides, she needed a distraction from the thoughts invading her head about Alex. Because it definitely was not appropriate to think of your friend in the way she’d begun to think of him over the past few months. Especially when said friend was a pediatric surgeon who held babies on a daily basis and she’d begun picturing what he’d look like holding their own child. Yeah, that was a glaring warning that she was treading into dangerous territory with Alex. 

What she hadn’t banked on was Jason being the worst date she’d ever been on. From the outside, they looked like a normal, carefree couple, but something within her was raising some giant, blaring red flags. Maybe it was the way Jason had insulted and disapproved of her close friendship with Alex the moment they walked out of the peds wing earlier that evening. Maybe it was the way he mansplained everything and spoke down to her. Maybe it was the way he roughly grabbed her arm and raised his voice when she said something he disagreed with. 

She needed an out and she needed one fast. 

Alex was standing in the corner of the bar playing darts, periodically glancing at Jo and the guy she was with. He made sure to get a really good look at this Jason guy, memorizing his face enough to imagine it on the dart board as he flicked his wrist and hit a bullseye. One second he was pulling a dart out of the board and taking a swig of his beer and the next, someone was tugging on his arm to get his attention. 

“Kiss me,” Jo looked up at him with wide eyes. 

“What?” Alex sputtered his drink. 

“Jason. He’s the worst one Alex. The worst. And he’s at the bar getting more drinks and I need to get away from him,” Jo rambled. 

“I still don’t understand how—”

“Just kiss me,” Jo blurted, eyes desperate. “Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable.”

“Yes, they do,” Alex responded dumbly, still unsure as to what was going on. 

He didn’t have any time to think about it though, because as before he knew what was going on, Alex was being pulled into a searing kiss. While this wasn’t the way he’d pictured his first kiss with Jo going, he wasn’t complaining. Not when he could feel her this close to him. Not when her tongue met his own. Not when he could hear her whimpers as she deepened the kiss. 

They could’ve kept going. They would’ve kept going, if it weren’t for Jason’s angry interruption, “You little bitch. I should’ve known you were a liar when you said that there was nothing going on between you and Karev.”

“Jason—” Jo attempted a weak protest. 

“No, you know what? I dodged a bullet with you Wilson. I don’t need to be dating a whore,” Jason’s fists balled up at his sides. 

Seeing the red in Jason’s eyes and his fists ready to strike, Alex intervened, “Don’t you dare call her that or any insult ever again. She’s not your girlfriend, she’s not even your friend. She didn’t cheat on you. So, if I hear you ever disrespect her like that again, you’re gonna want to skip town and that’s a promise.”

Jason glared at them in disgust before turning on his heels and walking out of the bar. 

It wasn’t until Jason was long gone that they were reminded of what had happened minutes prior. Staring up at each other with the strangest expressions on their faces, Alex and Jo waited in silence for a moment. Because what were you supposed to say when you kissed your best friend and you liked it?

The question was, where do they go from here? 

With the surfacing of Jo’s thoughts about Alex blaring 

loudly in her mind, Jo mumbled a small, “thank you” in order to avoid the very real possibility that she’d just thrown this friendship down the toilet. 

Alex nodded awkwardly at her appreciation, “Yeah… don’t mention it.”

And for the first time in months, the end of a horrendous date was not celebrated with Jo and Alex hanging out. It was spent alone. 

[drethanramslay]

Can you do 62 & 82 for the prompt list? If it’s still open, that is.

Thanks for the ask Anon 💖

#62-“You are an uncultured swine! There I said it!”

#82-“I can finally understand why you call them your arch-nemesis…What. A. Dick.”

You can find the prompt list here.

Taglist: @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @openheart12 @sekizincimektup @junggoku @ethandaddyramsey @edith-eggs1 @ethanramseysgirl @samihatuli @loveellamae @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @zeniamiii @binny1985 @an-urban-witch-ig @ramseyegerton @noboundariesplease @mrsdr-ethan-ramsey @newcolonies @mkamra2355 @unluckygs @choices-love-affair @kaavyaethanramsey  @caseyvalentineramsey @ohramsey @virtualrain202 @squishywizardhq  @junehiratas @lilyvalentine @nooruleman @itsgoingnuts @cordonianbleu @agent-breakdance @jamespotterthefirst @choicesfanaf (if you want to be added to the taglist, let me know ☺️)

Warning: there is swearing. Leah has got no chill lmao

⚾⚾⚾⚾⚾⚾⚾⚾⚾⚾⚾⚾⚾⚾⚾⚾

Tibia Cactus

Do you know that feeling when you are just flirting with someone because you are bored and then that person actually thinks you are interested in them and then you are just like, 'why the fuck did you do that?'

That exactly summarised Leah's situation.

She knows she went out with Tobias to get a rise out of Ethan, to push him and encourage him to finally ask her out. And it worked perfectly fine. They were together and Tobias got punched in his face.

Two birds, one stone.

But somehow, Tobias Carrick still didn't get the memo.

"Hey, Leah." Tobias spoke in a smoldering voice during the break in the softball game. She had been avoiding him all the time by sticking to Ethan's side.

"It's Dr. Garcia to you." She said as she opened the chilled beer and took a big gulp.

"I thought we were on first name basis."

"But not now. I'm with Ethan and honestly, I don't like you.. you are an entitled jackass." She shrugged.

He chuckled. "It's okay. People make mistakes all the time... But I won't mind you making those mistakes with me."

He just did not..

"Listen to me Carrick and listen to me good. I am trying my very best to not call you names but, if you cross the line again, I won't hesitate, bitch." She turned on her heels and started to walk away when he heard him taunt her.

"You are just like Ethan. Always running away on confrontat-"

Leah turned around, anger evident in her eyes. "You are an uncultured swine! There I said it!"

Saying that she went to the outfield.

😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😤😤

"We need one more run and then we will win." Landry said, giddily.

"Shut the fuck up dirty laundry. Nobody asked you. Go LEAH! MESS THEM UP!" Jackie hollered from the stands which made him shrink and Leah smirk.

"You CAN DO IT LEAH!! I'M ROOTING FOR YOU!" Rafael shouted.

"ANNIHILATE THEM!!" Ines said in such a cold voice that Zaid had to double take if it was her who said it. "Whoa I'm sorry where did that come from?" She said, shocked with herself.

Leah took her position, signalling the pitcher she was ready. He threw the ball her way and she hit it with all her might. The ball soared and she took off.

"HERE!! I'm free." Landry shouted from the base plate.

Oh no you don't.

Leah subtly tripped him that it seemed like he lost balance. Leah smirked internally as she triumphantly landed on the base plate.

"Edenbrook wi-" the umpire started before being interrupted.

"The hell it does. That's cheating." Dr. Asshole with the manbun said as he stomped towards Leah. He grabbed her by the arm and she yelped because of the grip.

Ethan immediately saw red.

Like the calm before the storm, Ethan spoke in a very cold voice that could have frozen hell. "I'm going to tell you once and only once to step away from my girlfriend, you son of a bitch."

"Or what, Ramsey? I'm not some pharma exec you can slug in the face." The Kenmore doctor instigated Ethan.

"Don't fucking talk about him like that." Leah said as she towered over the puny man.

Tobias chuckled. "Typical Ethan. Makes threats which he doesn't follow through and is such a pussy that he hides behind h-"

"CHINGA MADRE!!" Leah cursed loudly before she tackled Tobias.

"Oompf!" Tobias said as they both fell onto the dirt.

"How you fucking dare say that about my boyfriend, you asinine manboob?!" Leah said as she gathered his collar in one hand and lifted her other hand to punch him.

Tobias chucked. "It's not like you are gonna hi-"

Leah punched his so hard that you could hear the crack of his nose throughout the stadium.

"I'm LEAH MOTHERFUCKIN GARCIA! My dad is an ex-Marine so try again BITCH." She lifted and punched him again.

She was about to go again when she was lifted up from on top of him and restrained by Ethan.

"Let me go, ETHAN! TOBIAS, Ethan is thousand times the man you will ever be you miserable TIT!"

"Oh my god! The girls are fighting." Bryce exclaimed. He was immediately shushed by Sienna.

Leah was still struggling to break free but Ethan held her with an iron grip. "Sunshine, as much as I am turned on by you beating the shit out of him, you need to calm down, okay?" Ethan's deep baritone voice whispered into her ears as he turned her by the shoulders and pushed her towards the bench, to put an ice pack on her busted knuckles.

"I can finally understand why you call him your arch-nemesis...What. A. Dick." Leah hissed as she sat down.

Ethan chuckled and cupped her cheek. "Glad you are on board with me, sunshine. I would definitely not want to be on the opposite team right now."

Leah giggled and kissed his forehead, slowly calming down.

"You should be scared. But I love you so you don't need to be afraid."

"I love you too sunshine. I'm so damn lucky to be yours." Ethan said as he kissed her busted knuckles.

👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊👊

I'm sorry if the title is awful LMAO 😂 it's harder to come up with titles than the actual fic😭

[commander-rahrah]

Thank you to @hopelessly-shipper​ for requesting an Ethan Ramsey x MC fic with any of the prompts from the list. I looked through the list and felt this one had some serious “Ethan Ramsey” vibes. 

Prompt #18: Sharing a soft smile across a crowded room.

Ship: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC Jordynne Holland

Word Count: 1000 words

Rated: T (kissing, drinking)

If you would like to submit a prompt like this one, please find the post from 50-item-writing-prompts here

She looked out of this world.

Ethan took a large gulp of his champagne, his blue eyes unable to move away from Jordynne.

Her blonde hair was down, styled sleek and hanging down her back like a curtain. She had on a simple black dress, a slit could just be seen — revealing a little bit of her tan leg. It was a double flashback — to how she looked that night in Miami… and at the Opera.

He was indulging himself tonight. Who would be able to tell where he was staring? He was just sitting, sipping on champagne and enjoying the over-the-top ballroom the latest Big Pharma had procured for their winter gala.

His table wasn’t empty — but he had made enough idle conversation with the nearing-retirement doctors to appease them and leave him alone now.

Jordynne was standing on the edge of the dance floor — nursing a champagne glass to her chest as she listened to two people nearby. She was so patient — he couldn’t even tell if she was enjoying standing there or not. She had so many qualities he didn’t. Patient. Compassionate. Forgiving.

Ethan watched as she tucked a piece of blonde hair behind her ear before turning to the side. Her green eyes found his icy blues ones too easily — like she was looking for him too. She stared back at him before a soft smile spread across her face.

Usually, he felt a desire to push down a smile — but right now, he let the corners of his mouth tug up easily. His smile matched hers as they stared across the room — past the tables, the servers, drinkers, and dancers.

She raised her glass up to him in an across-the-room cheers. Ethan matched the movement, and they took sips at the same time — their eyes remaining on each other.

Her soft smile turned sly before she spun around on her heel and began weaving her way away from the dance floor. She strutted away in her heels easily — the swaying of her hips mesmerized him for a moment. Blinking himself back, he watched as she moved towards a balcony — she looked over her shoulder at him once more, before heading out.

Was that an invitation? Should he go?

Ethan felt the gears in his head beginning to work in overdrive — where had they left things? They hadn’t really left it anywhere… It was all just assumed. The complication of their situation had remained.

Downing the rest of his champagne, Ethan stood up abruptly. It was just going outside — fresh air. That’s it.

The air was refreshingly cool as he stepped outside. There was a warm glow from lanterns hanging off the balcony, and twinkly lights from downtown Boston could be seen from up there. Putting his hands in his pockets, Ethan walked out nonchalantly, his eyes scanning around for her.

Jordynne was leaning up against the balcony railing, the now-empty champagne glass was hanging in her hand loosely as she stared at the view of the city. He stood for a moment — watching her, his eyes following the lines of her body. Before he leaned against the railing next to her, clearing his throat.

“Dr. Ramsey,” She twisted her body to face him.

“Dr. Holland,” He nodded his head at her, “You look… Good.”

“You don’t look half bad either, James Bond.” She winked, grabbing onto the bow tie of his tux.

Ethan gulped at the gesture, his skin tingling as her finger brushed his shirt a little as she pulled away. “Are you enjoying the evening?”

“It’s a Big Pharma gala… What do you think?”

“It’s all just bureaucracy and free champagne.” He pointed to her empty glass with a smirk. “So… how come you’re out here?”

“I needed a break. I didn’t really want to listen to another conversation about ‘the club’”. She rolled her eyes, before standing up straighter. “And yourself? Dying for some better company?”

A quiet chuckle escaped Ethan’s lips, “Always.”

She raised her brow, “And I fit that quota?”

“More than you know,” He chewed the inside of his lip, watching her.

A bright smile flashed across her face, “Good.”

The pair got silent for a moment — suddenly aware of being alone on the balcony, under the warm light of the lanterns and stars. “It’s nice to see you, like this.”

“Like what?” He put his hands back into his pants pocket.

“Outside of the hospital.” She looked him up and down, “It’s been a while since we’ve been together at something like this.”

Ethan licked his lips, “Right. Well, the last time—”

“Yeah, the last time.” Her tan fingers played with a strand of blonde hair nervously, twisting it round and round. He watched the motion closely. swallowing — feeling suddenly drawn into her.

Taking a step forward, Ethan closed the distance between them — causing Jordynne to furrow her eyebrows. “Ethan, what are you doing?”

“Just — I don’t know,” He said breathlessly, before lowering his face to hers. His lips pressed against hers hastily, his teeth catching on her bottom lip. He felt Jordynne kiss him back fiercely, her hands winding into his tux jacket. It was overwhelming — Ethan couldn’t keep up with his thoughts,  the way she felt, the way her touching him felt. It had been so long since they had done this. Too long.

Pulling away, he stared down at her face — cheeks flushed pink, her eyes still closed. Her plump mouth was hanging open with the absence of his lips.

“Why’d you stop?” She asked softly. her eyelashes fluttering.

His fingers grabbed onto her chin once more, pulling her face up to his again. But he kissed her softer this time, deeper. His hands moved up her waist and back until his fingers were knotted in her blonde hair. He pulled away just long enough to let out, “‘Cause I’m an idiot.”. Before kissing her once again.

_______________________________________________________________________

If you would like to submit a prompt like this one, please find the post from 50-item-writing-prompts here

If you would like to read more of Ethan x Jordynne, please feel free to check out my Open Heart fic Residency! It is about my MC Jordynne Holland x Bryce Lahela x Ethan Ramsey

[ckret2]

Hand In Chelicera

Fandom: Transformers IDW, post-Requiem of the Wreckers Pairing: Prowl/Tarantulas Characters: Tarantulas, Prowl, brief appearances by Springer and Pharma Words: 4500 Summary: Tarantulas, on the verge of death, requests to be left in his lab in the past to die. He doesn’t expect to find Prowl there. He expects Prowl to save his life even less. And now—waking up on a hospital bed with Prowl, here, sitting beside him—he’s beginning to consider that maybe his plan to win Prowl back used the wrong strategy. Notes: I’ve owed @fiveboos this fic since TFCon last October. Never let it be said I don’t keep my promises. Eventually. Warnings: Remember how Tarantulas looks at the end of Requiem? He still looks like that.

###

"One—" Tarantulas grasped pleadingly at Springer's arm. "One last request. I don't—want to—die, here."

Springer nodded, optics warm and focused on Tarantulas, giving him his full attention. He was so good, such a good person, and Tarantulas had made him. "Where?"

"M-my lab," he said. "On Cybertron. Where—where you were born." He smiled, and only felt half his face move. "After my last visit, but... before Thunderwing. I'll g-give you the date and coordinates." He'd lived in his lab; it was fitting for him to die there, to be entombed until Cybertron was reborn.

Springer nodded. "Okay," he said. "Your lab."

###

The pain increased as Springer worked out the controls and put in Tarantulas's coordinates, until it was dazzling in how excruciating it was; and then it faded, rapidly, to nothing. And that was more alarming. "I—h-haven't got much—"

"I know," Springer said grimly. Tarantulas could hear the time machine powering up, and the shadows on the ceiling above him shifted in the light of the portal. "Okay, got it. Let's go."

Tarantulas felt Springer's arms under his shoulders and legs. "N-no..." He pushed weakly against Springer's chest. "My lab, is—irradiated. And, c-corrosive gasses. If you come through— I don't want to h-harm you."

Springer paused; Tarantulas's one working optic kept focusing and unfocusing on his face, and the optic band over it periodically flickered out. "Okay. I'll carry you as far as the gate. Then what, you want me to throw you through?" He smiled.

Tarantulas laughed; it wasn't a full cackle, but it was enough to rattle something in his chest that shouldn't be rattling. "Set me on the floor. I can—manage a few feet myself."

"All right." He settled Tarantulas sitting upright, leaning against the frame of the portal. It hurt far more than laying down—he could feel the weight of his remaining spider legs pulling down on his back, ripping at already-damaged armor and struts in his blasted shoulder—but it would make it easier to get through the portal.

"Goodbye—S-Springer. Ostaros."

"Goodbye, Mesothulas. And... thank you."

Tarantulas smiled at Springer—or tried to, with his face shattered and half his mandibles missing—and for a moment, he was tempted to stay here, spend his remaining seconds with his creation.

But somehow he didn't want to force Springer to watch his maker die. And so, laboriously, he turned toward the portal, and dragged himself through with one arm and the awkward help of four spider legs.

The portal turned off.

Wounds already stinging from radiation, Tarantulas collapsed to the floor of his old abandoned lab and waited to die.

###

Except, the second he collapsed, a very close, very familiar voice said, "What the hell?!"

Tarantulas forced his fading optic band back on. There was someone in his lab. His abandoned lab, millennia after his own final visit to it. His vision swam, trying to focus on the hulking figure next to him—and then all at once it was crystal clear: a mech covered head to foot in the Autobots' preferred anti-rad armor. It was impossible to see who was inside it. But Tarantulas knew. He'd heard his voice. He'd know his voice anywhere.

"Pr—" he wheezed. "Pr—o—"

Prowl stepped back, slinging a gun off his back that, even with the added bulk of his anti-rad armor, looked ill-suited in his hands. "What the hell are you? How did you get in here?" He sounded angry, the same way millennia in the future he would sound angry to be trapped in Tarantulas's web, angry to be manhandled and blackmailed and bargained with; and only now did Tarantulas realize that the anger was actually fear.

Tarantulas realized with a jolt that Prowl had no way to recognize him. This was so long ago, Prowl undoubtedly still thought Mesothulas consigned to the Noisemaze. He hadn't seen Tarantulas's new body—or a natural tarantula, for that matter—hell, for all Tarantulas knew, Prowl had never seen an organic in the flesh before. And now here was a massive technorganic in front of him, mangled so badly he was probably hard to identify even as bipedal, who had tumbled out of a mysterious glowing portal in an abandoned radioactive lab—

"It's m-me," he wheezed. "Don't shoot, P-Prowl, please—I can'tzz h-harm..." He hacked up a mouthful of green energon, rapidly congealing. "Please."

The last time Prowl had seen him, he'd tried to murder him, and surely nothing about Tarantulas's appearance looked less worthy of being murdered now; and yet, Prowl lowered his gun. "...Mesothulas?"

"Zzyes. I'm... s-zztso sorry to... die in front of you, like this—" He laughed, coughed, and choked at the same time. "It's n-not what I zzzt wanted... you to..."

Prowl took a step toward Tarantulas, knees bending like he wanted to kneel next to him; but then he stopped, and backed up. And without a word, he turned and ran away from him. Sprinting at top speed, fighting against the clunky suit to move as fast as possible.

Tarantulas tried to call to him to stay—please, Prowl, don't leave him again—but all that came out was a dispirited, staticky hiss. Tarantulas's optic froze a moment, and when it rebooted, Prowl was gone.

Well, he'd come here to die alone, hadn't he? But it was worse now. Merely being alone was far different from contemplating the Prowl-shaped void in his life. He wished Prowl hadn't been here. He hated Prowl for being here.

He stared dully down the path Prowl had taken away from him, and listened as his systems shut down one by one.

And then there was Prowl, sprinting back for Tarantulas as fast as he'd left.

Tarantulas's spark surged joyously; he felt himself die a little faster. "Przzkl... Y-you came b..."

Prowl shoved him roughly onto his back, ripped Tarantulas's chest open wider—the metal screamed—and shoved a rusty, clawed weapon into the gap. Tarantulas tried to grab Prowl's wrist, but couldn't lift his arm. Why? Why?

Tarantulas dimly recognized the weapon as his own prototype spark extractor.

He felt his soul sucked inside-out.

Then nothing.

###

The first thing Tarantulas was aware of was the bright lights on the ceiling above him.

No. No, that wasn't the ceiling.

That was a face.

It was grinning at him.

It wasn't Overlord's face, and Overlord's was the only face he expected to be within five miles of him. Where was he? What was going on? He'd been dying, hadn't he?

Tarantulas stared at the face, blearily, as it swam into focus. And then croaked, "Primus?"

"Close!" the face said. "Pharma. And I am delighted to meet you, Mesothulas. I've got so many questions to ask about your body."

Tarantulas stared in fuzzy befuddlement at Pharma. "Ah?"

"I want to know all about where you got it and how it works," Pharma said. "It's so unusual, I was barely able to patch you up! Me! And the flesh that's grafted onto the surface—it's ingenious. Disgusting, but ingenious. Who made it? I'm convinced someone did make it—Prowl thinks you were somehow mutated in, oh, some parallel dimension, he wouldn't explain it, kept saying 'classified information'—"

It took longer than it should have for Tarantulas to register the name. And then he bolted up—or tried to. He was still missing half his arms and spider legs, apparently, and ended up instead sort of sliding sideways. "Prowl!"

"Pharma," the mech over him corrected.

"No! Where's— Where's Prowl? He was with me, where did he..."

"Ah." Pharma pointed across Tarantulas's berth. "On your blind side."

Tarantulas's head whipped around ("Careful," Pharma scolded), and there Prowl was. Sitting there, looking at Tarantulas, as though that was a perfectly natural place for him to be. By Tarantulas's side. On a chair. Looking at him. By his side.

Tarantulas stared at him.

Prowl looked away.

"Spark rpm kicked up," Pharma muttered. "I told you you'd make him anxious, Prowl. Out the door, I won't have you disturbing my patient."

"No!" Tarantulas cried, twisting to give Pharma a pleading look. "No, please, let—let him stay. I want to talk to him."

Pharma stared at Tarantulas. "I did plug your brain module back in right, didn't I?"

"Pharma," Prowl said crossly. "I told you I'd need an opportunity to debrief Mesothulas once he was conscious and stable. Is he medically stable to your satisfaction?"

Pharma sighed, and circled around to Prowl's side of the berth, so he could lean in and... Tarantulas presumed he was examining his wounds, although he was still blind on that side. He could see the edge of a hole still gaping on the left side of his chest, but couldn't quite bend his neck enough to see how much of him was still missing.

"Welds still holding," Pharma said. "For now. If you absolutely must interrogate him immediately..."

"Welds," Tarantulas said dumbly, as if it had only just occurred to him that he must have had some repairs done to him in order for him not to be dead. "How—how am I still—? I was dying. How in the world—"

"Prowl hauled you in with your frame already going gray and your spark preserved in the most jury-rigged excuse for a spark extractor I've ever seen," Pharma said. "Your spark decayed slowly enough in the extractor that I was able to repair enough damage to your body to get your spark home and reignite it."

Tarantulas's gaze jerked back to Prowl, who was looking somewhere past him. He'd saved Tarantulas's life. He'd saved Tarantulas's life? He'd snapped to save him the moment he recognized the damage he was in, the moment he recognized who he was. He'd run to save him.

And with a spark extractor, of all things! Tarantulas breathed, "Ingenious."

"Yes, I know," Pharma said smugly.

Prowl glanced up at Pharma. "If you don't mind..."

"Yes, yes, I'll get out of your way." Pharma fixed Tarantulas with a sharp look. "Don't let him force you to do anything strenuous."

"Don't worry, doctor. I'm not going to do anything more strenuous than talk."

"Talk with Prowl," Pharma said pointedly. Looking at Prowl, he said, like it was a threat, "I'm going to be monitoring his vitals remotely."

Prowl nodded. "Of course."

Pharma gave Tarantulas one last critical look, then turned to leave the room. The door swung shut behind him. His footsteps disappeared down the hall. Tarantulas simply looked at Prowl, reveling in the knowledge that he was here, at Tarantulas's sick bed; and Prowl looked back at him. For several seconds, they were silent.

Then they both started talking at once.

"How did you get out of the Noisemaze?!"

"What were you doing in my lab?!"

"What did the maze do to you?!"

"Why did you save my life?!"

"I'm sorry."

"Where in the universe did you take— Wait. What?"

Prowl couldn't look at Tarantulas. He looked down at his hands, laced in front of him, elbows on his knees.

"Repeat that," Tarantulas commanded.

"I asked you a question first," Prowl said. "And, as you pointed out, I saved your life. Answer my questions first."

"Saved it?! You tried to end my life," Tarantulas snapped. Prowl half-shrugged, grimaced, and tilted his head, as though to say, fair point. "Answer to me, Prowl. Repeat what you just said. I want to hear it clearly."

Prowl frowned. "I'm not—"

"Say it!"

Prowl flinched. For most people, flinching was a sharp cringe back, submissive and avoidant. Prowl's flinch made his expression harden and his back straighten.

"I'm sorry," he said. "For locking you in an experimental torture prison without a trial and leaving you there to die."

"And?"

"'And'?"

"And 'I'm sorry for kidnapping'...?"

"Oh. I wouldn't call it a kidnapping. He was incapable of any autonomous activity, much less of taking care of himself. If I hadn't taken him along—"

"Prowl."

Prowl huffed. "All right. From the perspective of, say, the beginning of the day, it’s understandable that my actions might have been construable as a kidnapping; and on those grounds, I apologize for the perceived—“

“Prowl."

He fell silent for a moment. Then looked down again. "I'm sorry for kidnapping Ostaros."

"Sorry," Tarantulas muttered. "Sorry. Everything I went through—everything you put me through—and all you have to say is sorry."

"Sincere question," Prowl said. "Is there anything else I could say that would help you?"

And there wasn't. So Tarantulas said nothing.

In truth, it was a marvel he had even gotten that much out of Prowl. He certainly hadn't gotten that from Prowl in the future, millions of years later, when he descended upon him with the evidence of what Prowl had turned him into—what he'd turned himself into for Prowl. What was the difference? Had Prowl lost his remorse over Mesothulas in the intervening millennia? Had Tarantulas been fortunate to jump into the past at one of Prowl's periodic dips into higher morality?

No—Tarantulas doubted it. Something else had to be different. What had changed—or would change, as the case may be—between this meeting and the one in which Tarantulas had kidnapped Prowl?

... Well. "Kidnapping Prowl" was a rather large detail, wasn't it. Kidnapping him and blackmailing them. In retrospect, Tarantulas supposed that would rather keep Prowl out of any sort of reconciliatory, remorseful state of mind, wouldn't it.

Is that all it would have took? God—did he waste all that time, all those years preparing the perfect trap to dazzle and intimidate Prowl, when all along, all he had to do to receive an apology was—was—was nothing? Just turn up? Just show up with a hole blown through his spark and collapse at his feet?

It burned to think that he had—that he'd wasted all of that, for nothing.

And for a moment, he wanted to make Prowl burn too. Just a little. "I'm surprised you bothered to save me," he snipped. "When you could have far more easily just left me to die—and ensure that your little secret about you-know-where would no longer have anyone left who could spill it."

He'd expected—he'd hoped—that Prowl would look scared, or hurt, or guilty. Prowl looked none of those things. What he didn't expect was for Prowl to look confused. Was he more callous than even Tarantulas had thought? To have forgotten Carpessa? To have forgotten which secret he'd thrown Tarantulas into hell to keep?

Then something clicked on. "You think I locked you up as a—as a cover-up? To keep a secret? You weren't going to tell, you didn't have anybody to tell." (It was so true that Tarantulas couldn't even be offended.) "That's—all these years, that's what you've believed?"

Tarantulas stared at him. "... Well, I did."

"That wasn't my objective," Prowl said hotly. "I was—" He paused; and there was the guilt and shame that Tarantulas had hoped to see. Now that he had it, he wasn't so sure he wanted it after all. "I—my objective was to... to remove the thing that... caused me to make decisions like that."

Tarantulas gaped at him. "You tried to kill me because you thought I was a bad influence?" He laughed harshly, angrily. It hurt to laugh, pained the parts of him that were missing. Prowl didn't look at him. "Why would—Why not kill me again, then? If my presence is so very terrible for your decision-making capabilities? Why did you save me this time."

"Because—you weren't what was causing me to do the wrong thing." Prowl's already guilty face twisted further, into something that looked uncomfortably close to self-loathing. Somewhere in Prowl's mind must have been self-reproaches compounded upon self-reproaches: the knowledge of the crimes he'd committed—and the knowledge that he'd martyred Mesothulas for those crimes, for no reason.

Tarantulas could have told Prowl that Tarantulas was never the one making Prowl's decisions. No one had ever guided Prowl's decisions except for himself. He was too stubborn, too proud, too beautifully distant and independent. Hearing Prowl admit it, Tarantulas should have wanted to gloat. It was what he'd always wanted to hear Prowl confess: that regardless of whatever high ideals he tried to serve, his stabs at performing morality were a sham; that he could be just as wicked as Tarantulas; that he was just as wicked. Tarantulas was never the one who dragged Prowl off his pedestal of moral purity and down into the dirt: no, they had each inspired the other to dig. Tarantulas should get to gloat over this.

Instead—to his surprise—he found his anger toward Prowl softening in empathy.

Since he'd started lurking in Ostaros's—Springer's—life, Tarantulas had found himself aching inside, like acid softly eating him from the spark out, whenever he thought on all the little things he'd done to help make the world Springer lived in worse—and all the much larger things he might do yet. It was one of the reasons that, even though he'd agreed, eagerly, to collaborate with Overlord, he'd decided that they would only dissect the specimen with a time machine: any incisions they made to the past could be effortlessly sewn back shut once they'd made their observations. Springer wouldn't have to suffer for the changes Tarantulas made. Tarantulas had changed; he thought he understood what guilt felt like, now. And now he couldn't mock Prowl for feeling it. Of course he felt vile for having done little things to help make the world a little worse. He understood.

Maybe, he'd considered, guilt wasn't the weakness he'd thought it as, but a warning sign—a signpost to help guide you away from doing something you ought not do again. A defense against stupidity.

Tarantulas was beginning to fear he had been very stupid.

It was no wonder Prowl hat shot him down when he'd tried to offer the power to conquer the galaxy.

"I'm—for what it's worth," Tarantulas said, "I'm no longer interested in—trying to talk you into doing things you'd rather not. Or, trying to convince you that you want to do something you don't think you do." Was that true? Tarantulas didn't know; but he thought Prowl would probably like for it to be true.

He didn't look like he liked it. Bitterly, he said, "I don't need your help to make decisions I don't want to." And then sat up straighter, smoothed his face from guilty to professionally neutral, visibly changing the topic. "I don't know how you got out of the Noisemaze. But, whatever your trick was—I'm—glad that you did."

Tarantulas perked up. "Oh? Did you miss me?"

"Do I have to have missed you to be glad you didn't die?"

That wasn't a no. "Did you miss me?"

Prowl harrumphed. "I wouldn't say that."

Tarantulas tilted his head toward him, smiling. The gesture hurt. "What would you say?"

"That..." Prowl tipped his head back, looking up at the ceiling, choosing his words carefully. "That—I have—been unsuccessful in finding an inventor to collaborate with who has—been as... responsive to my requests as you were. Do not mistake me, the Autobots have a plethora of scientists, engineers, and inventors more than competent enough to meet any requests I make—but they don't tend to innovate on my proposals the way you did. That's all."

Which was clearly, blatantly intended as a brush-off. I didn't miss you; all I missed was the things you made for me. But Tarantulas's spark spun faster anyway; his spark monitor undoubtedly would indicate an increase in the rpm again. Millennia in the future, Tarantulas would say to Prowl, I miss the way that you inspired me; and here, now, millennia in the past, Prowl had said to Tarantulas, I miss the way that you were inspired by me. The statements made a Möbius strip out of their mutual longing, each infinitely flowing into and looping back around to each other. Each the muse to the other.

And with that realization, he wondered, suddenly, what this strange new Prowl that paralleled Tarantulas's words and didn't cringe away from him would do if Tarantulas touched him. If Tarantulas reached out, took his hand, or cupped his face and pulled him in...

He tried to roll onto his side to stretch his one functioning arm toward Prowl; but doing so rolled him onto the wounded ruin of his shoulder and chest, and he curled in on himself, hissing in pain.

"Mesothulas!" Prowl's hands were on him, on his chest and shoulder, pushing him to roll flat on his back. "Don't do that." Prowl was standing to lean over Tarantulas, frowning down at him—annoyed or worried? It must be worried. Please, let him be worried. "Haven't you seen how bad your wounds are?"

In wonder, Tarantulas said, "You're touching me."

Prowl paused. "Of course I am." As if there were anything "of course" about this.

"Tell me again," Tarantulas said, "that you didn't miss me."

Prowl didn't. He looked away, lifting his hands off of Tarantulas's body. Tarantulas grabbed the wrist of the hand leaving his chest and pulled it back into place. Prowl didn't try to withdraw again.

"I missed you, Prowl."

"I can't imagine why."

"Can't you?" Tarantulas ran the fang at the tip of his chelicera-thumb in the gap between Prowl's wrist and hand.

Tarantulas wasn't sure whether Prowl shivered or shuddered. "That—whatever is protruding from your armor—"

"It's called setae."

"Does it—spread? Is it contagious?"

Tarantulas chuckled wheezily, at the same time as he found himself wondering whether Prowl, this Prowl, this younger Prowl had yet to set foot on an alien world and see organics for himself. "It is wholly contained to my own body, never fear."

"We can remove it while you're here getting all your other repairs."

"No, no." Tarantulas started to shake his head and immediately regretted it. "It's supposed to be there. I'm keeping it."

"Why? What's—What is it for?"

They were drifting frustratingly far from their original topic, and just when Tarantulas felt he was on the verge of persuading Prowl to admit something—something Tarantulas hadn't thought was there—something he so desperately needed to have confirmed. "If you don't like how it feels, then touch me somewhere else." He let go of Prowl's wrist, allowing him to withdraw completely if he wanted to. He felt like he was taking a deadly risk—but he'd already tried to force Prowl into choosing him, and see how that had all fallen apart. See how he'd said I want you, I want us, and Prowl had said you're asking if I'm frightened to face the repercussions of my terrible judgment: no. What he needed now was to see whether Prowl would choose him if he was free to make the choice, free of fear and blackmail and hostages and kidnapping.

For a moment, Tarantulas was terrified he wouldn't. Prowl bristled at the dare, pulling his hand back quickly; but then leaned back in, and closer, and cupped Tarantulas's face in his hand. His fingers fit perfectly in the corrugated grooves of Tarantulas's cheek. Tarantulas felt light enough to float.

"I shouldn't be doing this," Prowl said. Tarantulas had never heard him speak so softly before. "You're so injured."

"I'd be even more gravely injured if you pulled away from me now."

"Difficult to imagine. I can see your exposed brain module."

"Then I'm glad you get to see my best assets."

Tarantulas could have sworn that Prowl's face almost shifted, like he wanted to smile. "Stop that." He bent closer to Tarantulas, optics dimming—Tarantulas's vents hitched—Prowl's lips ghosted softly over the tips of Tarantulas's outstretched mandibles—

Footsteps pounded down the hallway. "I don't know what kind of torture you normally put your agents through, Prowl. But as long as this one is my patient, I will not stand idly by while his spark RPMs give off readings better suited to pulsars than to—" Pharma opened the door, took one step in, immediately backpedaled, and slammed the door.

Prowl jerked back, and when his lips left Tarantulas's face it felt like being paralyzed with a rush of icy wind. For a moment, there was silence.

"I'll check in on Mesothulas later," Pharma said through the closed door. His footsteps hurriedly vanished down the hall.

Tarantulas gave Prowl the best pleading look he could with half a visor and a broken optic. Prowl shook his head, and sank back into his seat. "You're injured," he said, yet again. "I shouldn't risk exacerbating it."

"I won't always be injured," Tarantulas said hopefully. "Then...? Or, when that day comes, will this be—just another mistake you've made with me?"

Tarantulas tried his best to keep the question gentle. Prowl winced anyway. "I hope not. But I don't know," he said. "I'm tired of making mistakes. It's going to keep happening, I know, that's life, but—I don't want you to be one again."

"What do you want me to be to you, then?"

Tarantulas was disappointed but he supposed he wasn't surprised when Prowl didn't answer.

"We can figure that out," Tarantulas offered. "Together, with time." Prowl at least nodded in agreement to that—oh, the relief. Tarantulas was getting a second chance. This one he wouldn't squander. He'd do anything Prowl asked, make anything Prowl wanted—that was all Tarantulas had desired in the first place, after all. He had knowledge of technologies that wouldn't exist for millions of years—he could become their inventor, dazzle Prowl with designs he'd never dreamed of. He had just enough knowledge of the war that he could steer Prowl away from the actions Tarantulas knew he would regret, oh, how grateful Prowl would be to Tarantulas for that—imagine! Tarantulas playing the part of Prowl's conscience! And soon enough the war would end—

The very fuel in Tarantulas's lines froze.

The war would end. And then the other Tarantulas would storm in, brimming with blackmail and greed.

He was out there already, no doubt. At this point in history he'd already escaped the Noisemaze, begun his long pilgrimage across the universe to learn from the luminaries of science. How long was it yet until he turned his attentions back to Prowl? If Tarantulas went through with his plan to provide Prowl with the wonders of the future, how long until his younger self deduced that Prowl had adopted a new pet scientist, and became fiercely jealous?

"Prowl—" Tarantulas reached for him, chelicera weakly pointed toward Prowl's hands. By now, Tarantulas had no idea whether or not to expect Prowl to take it.

But he did. Prowl scooted to the edge of his seat, and took Tarantulas's hand in both of his. He even ran his thumb, lightly, over the back of his chelicera, as though studying the way his setae bent under the pressure and then snapped back into place.

He'd deal with his younger self. Perhaps he'd teach him how to make a time machine of his own, and let him shunt himself off to another branch timeline where he could claim a Prowl for his own. But he'd kill him if he had to. He could do that. He was sure he could.

Tarantulas squeezed Prowl's hands, looked in his optics, and said, softly, "I'm not going to lose you again. I refuse to lose you again."

The look Prowl gave Tarantulas said that he was thinking the same words.

###

Comments/reblogs are welcome! If you want to leave a tip or like the fic on AO3, the links are in my description!

[elfnerdherder]

The Gunmetal Kiss: Chapter 6

[Support my Patreon] [Read on Ao3]

Well, guys, it’s here! This was a baby fic, but I’d love to thank all of you for the time and patience you’ve shown through the last couple of years of stagnant posting and random rambles of how much work sucks. I think I’ve settled into a groove of my new job now, and I’m hoping to get into a once a week update, kind of how I used to. Baby steps!

A special thanks to my patrons: @evertonem @starlit-catastrophe @kenobi-is-king @sylarana @frostylicker Duhaunt6, Mendacious Bean, Superlurk, and Cecily! You guys are the best!

Chapter 6:

May 8, 2017:

Nothing.

May 9, 2017:

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May 10, 2017:

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July 28, 2017:

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October 13, 2017:

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December 25, 2017:

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January 1, 2018:

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February 1, 2018:

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March 1, 2018:

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April 1, 2018:

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May 1, 2018:

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June 1, 2018:

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July 1, 2018:

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August 1, 2018:

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September 1, 2018:

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October 1, 2018:

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November 1, 2018:

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December 1, 2018:

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December 31, 2018:

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January 1, 2019:

And Time Froze.

           Will Graham died often. He died often, and nothing happened. People died, and nothing happened. Sometimes, he was commended for his work. Sometimes, he had a desire to put mirror shards in the eyes of his targets.

           He doesn’t, but sometimes he thinks about it.

           He’d told Alana it was a mirror, but it wasn’t, was it? He became, but he could become anything, and was he truly a person when he was constantly becoming something else? He thought of how Hannibal looked at him, hungry. How he’d slid that knife so smooth.

           He’d wanted to confess something about Mason Verger. Will Graham did work outside of the United States.

           Time passed, and nothing happened. Nothing happened because Will Graham was not a thing to retain information, but a thing to mirror the world around him just long enough to pass the power along. Never for himself, never himself, and nothing happened as the time passed. Will Graham wasn’t truly Will Graham. He was a ghost.

           Ghost Agents aren’t people. Will Graham never had feelings for Hannibal.

           Dying this time wasn’t anything special. It was nothing, but he knew it’d stain his ex-lover’s eyes forever, make them cry themselves to sleep. Enough they’d never know he was alive. Enough to know they’d not pry for him.

           Enough to know he’d never again exist to them.

           Despite the smell, sewers were the best of exits. Most of them were scarcely occupied by humans, and it led to avenues of quick getaways. Climbing out of the gutter and sliding out of the stained and wet jacket, he tossed it in the dumpster nearby and rounded the corner, picking up his bug-out bag.

           Standing poised before a bleeding sun and Will’s only escape, Hannibal Lecter’s knife glinted, reflected and nearly blinded Will. He paused for the briefest of moments, his mind reflecting, turning in on itself. He stood slowly and gripped the duffle bag tight, calculating.

           He couldn’t speak. He swallowed, throat tight, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Nearly two years. Nearly two years, and Hannibal looked good.

           Hannibal had a knife in his hand. Hannibal’s hand cut throats so smooth.

           “You found me,” he said, hoarse.

           “I never lost you,” Hannibal explained calmly. “You simply kept your head down and refused to see.”

           Will held his breath just long enough to make it hurt. He exhaled slow, allowed it to burn.

           “You going to stick me with that?”

           “You were telling the truth the whole time, I think,” Hannibal said. “Bits and pieces, but true. I wondered, long after, if you had to doctor your own wounds most times, and that’s why they were so gruesome in the aftermath.”

           “I’m not going to get into a knife fight with you. I’ll subdue you and move on.”

           “I thought to throw away the hideous canvas, but it was a ship adrift at sea. It seemed somehow fitting for you.”

           “Enough, Hannibal.”

           “It was not enough,” Hannibal interrupted, curt. “It was not so near enough time as I’d have liked, and in truth, Will Graham, I don’t believe it was near enough time for you, either.”

           He tasted Ortolan and brimstone. Will bit at a dry spot on his lip, tore hard enough bleed. His grip on his bag didn’t falter, but his breath did.

           “I thought you a remarkably difficult read until I realized it wasn’t that I couldn’t read you, but that you were never quite yourself to read. I miscalculated your affections, or so I supposed until I saw what it was for you to mirror someone’s affection back onto themselves. Then, I felt rather lucky in realizing I was able to experience a genuine intimacy with you.”

           “You walk a fine line between arrogance and confidence.”

           “You’d claim what you and I shared somehow compared to the watered-down version delivered in the coffee shop to Abigail Hobbs, whose grief and anger towards her father drew her into witness protection after your death? Or your romantic interludes with Nathanial, who could not convince you to come back to bed after you’d sufficiently pleased him?”

           “If I was so unobservant I didn’t notice the third man in the room, I should retire,” said Will. It sounded far droller than he felt.

           “You’re hungry for something, aren’t you?” Hannibal asked, and there it was: that look in his eye, that hungry look that made something inside of Will hungry, too.

           “No,” Will rasped.

           “You once wanted to get to know me,” Hannibal urged, and his voice softened. It wasn’t rough, but hesitant, something smacking of vulnerability, but Will didn’t want to think of that right now. “I had thought you’d maybe like to know me still.”

           He thought about fighting the Great, Red Dragon, how Hannibal had slit his throat so smooth. How his eyes burned, and there was a set to his jaw that hinted at a protective nature, an urge to act because he wouldn’t stand the notion that Will could get hurt again.

           Will stupidly thought of Alana wondering who’d first got in his head and scrambled it all up.

           “We have to go,” he said, and he glanced to his watch.

           “Will –”

           “I’ll…I’ll talk, but we have to go.”

           Hannibal looked likely to resist, but after a brief, taut second, he relaxed. “My car is less likely to be found.”

           It wasn’t a lie. Will gripped his duffle bag tight, then relaxed. He gave a brief nod and gestured for Hannibal to lead the way.

           There was a certain edge to be the one holding the keys to the car. It was a fucking Bentley, and Will allowed himself the luxury of melting into the leather. The last mission had been tiring, in truth.

           There’d been a lot of missions that’d been tiring, if that was something he was willing to admit. Maybe not yet, not at a moment like this.

           His duffle bag rested between his legs. In it held the key to a thousand identities, a thousand opportunities. He wasn’t sure if his mind was turning or reeling. “Tell me about Mason Verger.”

           Hannibal held both hands on the wheel as they peeled through casual suburbs and took stop signs rather than street light intersections. Will saw the care of it, and his fingers fidgeted with the lock button.

           “Mason Verger was a pedophile, and my work colleague shared it with me after a troubling day at set when she broke down crying and couldn’t continue the scene.

           “I…do not have a tolerance for those that think themselves above the repercussions of harming the innocent that are in no place to protect themselves. I thought it important that I convince him of his wrongdoing, therefore I set out the careful planning of our friendship and his inevitable destruction.”

           As orange, dull streetlights striped and skewered his face, it made his grim smile feral. Will liked it. It made him remember Dolarhyde dying. Will was shot, and Hannibal hadn’t hesitated in stabbing Dolarhyde so that Dolarhyde couldn’t stab back.

           The scar was ugly, hidden only by a beard Will painstakingly maintained. It was difficult to blend in with a scar like that. Difficult to do your job when people kept asking questions.

           “It was only one party, but it was enough. We procured drugs from his personal stash, and he didn’t notice that I mixed a potent blend of psychedelics into the powder. He took them without thought, and I’m sure you know the rest.”

           “How the hell did you get a hold of something like that,”

           “I have a friend in the pharmacy business. Big pharma is actually a large problem that the federal government should look into,” he chided lightly.

           “Not my job.”

           “No, but I’d like to know about that,” he replied, and at the next stop sign he grabbed one of Will’s fidgeting hands, letting it rest in the neutral space between them on the armrest.

           “Hannibal—”

           “You said you would talk.”

           He did say he’d talk. Will chewed his bottom lip and nodded in approval at Hannibal’s turn of head towards the interstate. Interstates were safe at night. Safer than people thought, so long as you didn’t drive like an ass and draw attention to yourself.

           He waited for a few miles before he spoke. Hannibal’s patience was fine-tuned and calm, not at all intrusive. He knew Will had no sort of idea where they were going, knew he was at the mercy of Hannibal’s need to know.

           And Will had known that walking towards the car, yet he’d gotten in anyway.

           “What you saw was me using my hyper-empathy disorder in order to so completely ingrain myself into the space of another person that I’m able to aptly anticipate their needs or any potential hazards of them being within my workspace and mission. I was recruited because despite that, it doesn’t hamper my ability to kill someone, should the need arise.”

           Admitting that was easier than admitting to the rest of the job. Other people had scrutinized his psyche before; one more was nothing.

           “You’re good at it.”

           “As are you,” Will countered.

           “When I care about something, Will, I will protect it at all costs. I know what it is to be unable to protect the things that I love, and I promised myself that it would never happen again.”

           There was something in the way that he said ‘love’ that made Will’s breath stutter past his lips.

           “You don’t know me, Hannibal. You can’t suggest you love me.”

           “I know more than others, otherwise you would not be so defensive of it. Instead, you’d be cruel, as you were to the rest of your targets that now think you dead.”

           “You want me to be cruel to you?” Will asked –he didn’t appreciate the sound of it being more incredulous than threatening.

           “No, I’m informing you that if you didn’t want me to follow you, you should have made me think you were dead. You ensured such a thing from every target after me, which leads me to assume you wanted me to find you.”

           Will was still more baffled than angry that Hannibal had found him. Of all the stupid, risky, outlandish things someone had done just to get his attention…

           “That’s not unreasonable, given the evidence,” Will allowed. Begrudgingly.

           “And given how good you are at disappearing, I’d promised myself should I get you in this car, Will Graham, I wasn’t going to let you out of my sight again,” he continued, amiably. “As I said, I want to get to know you. I think I’d be more than pleased with what I find.”

           Will looked at their hands clasped. He thought of the boat adrift at sea, likely still on the wall of that bedroom inside of a house that was dusty and abandoned. He wondered if Jack would comb through that house and find himself standing in front of that canvas. If he did, he would more than likely think of Hannibal asking Will if he wanted it back. He’d ponder it for years after, should they get away with this. Had that been a codeword? Did Will betray the organization, and I was too stupid to see it?

           The bag at his feet held enough futures to last a lifetime of over and over again. Rebirth and death. Rebirth and death.

           Red Dragon had tied Hannibal in a fisherman’s knot. In his spare time, Will quite enjoyed the sport of it. Maybe he’d like to know about that? Maybe they’d find a place in the forest where no prying eyes could see?

           Will smiled. “I’d like to get to know you, too.”

           There was nothing but miles of road behind them. Just ahead lay every possibility.

[crashdevlin]

Zed Word: Ch. 4 Favorite

Zed Word Masterlist

Author’s Note: Originally posted to ao3. This was inspired by a series of tweets between Jeffery Dean Morgan and Jensen Ackles…. Sam and Dean never found John, but everything went the same way anyway until Season 5. Adam never said ‘yes’ to Michael. The fight at Stull Cemetery never happened but Lucifer (jumping from vessel to vessel ‘cause Sam wouldn’t say ‘yes’) and Pestilence managed to infect everyone with Croatoan, turning everyone into zombies when they die. The boys have traveled the apocalyptic landscape killing zombies and saving people ever since.

Summary: Reader has been living in Alexandria since Daryl saved her life. When she ventures out of town for the first time in months, Sam and Dean save her life and she takes them back to Alexandria, a town on edge since Negan showed up. Dean takes an instant interest in the woman, and when Negan shows up again, he does, too.

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Negan x Reader

Story Warnings: Kidnapping, torture, Non-con/dub-con, unprotected sex of a forced nature, pregnancy, mentions of abortion, PTSD, *THIS IS A DARK FIC*

Chapter Warnings: Non-con/dub-con sex, coercion, NSFW, 18 and over

Sam watched from the stairs as Dean and Maggie went over maps. It had ceased to be about tracking their father down and quickly become about finding the girl. Dean hadn't mentioned John since they started plotting locations and changed the topic as soon as anyone else brought him up. Sam was certain that it wasn't John. He remembered him, what an asshole he'd been. Pushy, demanding, obsessive, but not insane. He couldn't even imagine that monster the Alexandrians had described was actually the man who'd taught him how to shoot, how to hunt, how to help people. How to save people. No way in Hell does John Winchester murder people with a baseball bat and kidnap women to rape them.

A demon would. A shifter would. Almost any sort of monster. But not John. Sam stood and grabbed his brother's attention. Dean followed him into the front yard. "Dean... What if they're dead? We have to consider what we'll do in that situation."

"Y/n's not dead." Dean dismissed.

"Dean... that demon is obviously not taking any shit. If she fought him-"

"She didn't." Dean was certain.

"How can you know that?"

"Because that's why Dad took her! She's soft." He spat out, angrily. He sighed, heavily, looking around the green yards which matched poorly with the horrible reality of the situation. "She's sweet, innocent. Southern Bella in there said it, Sammy, she's a hider. She's never hurt another human being, never even put down a zombie. She doesn't have it in her. She won't fight Negan. She'll go along with whatever he says because that's how she'll survive. I just hope we can get to her before he does something that scars her for life."

Sam nodded. "You guys getting anywhere? The maps?"

Dean nodded. "We won't know anything 'til we check it out, but... Maybe getting somewhere."

Sam nodded. It wasn't hard to see why Dean was so obsessed with getting y/n back. They'd come across quite a few women as attractive as her since Lucifer unleashed the apocalypse, (admittedly fewer and fewer as the years passed) but none who'd survived purely on their wits and determination. Sam was impressed that she'd never taken out a zombie and it bolstered his faith in her survival skills, but... demons were vastly different from zombies. Zombies were slow and predictable, only really a problem in large groups. A single demon, however...  

Sam sighed and patted his brother's shoulder. "I'm hungry. See if I can't run down some food."

"Ask Eric if there's any spaghetti sauce left. I'll eat it straight if there's no pasta." Dean said, before hopping up the porch stairs to reenter the house.

*********************

You stayed in your 'room', watching peoples' movements and analyzing the building for hours before you left, new shoes insulating your feet from the cold concrete. You moved around the main building to the outside, checking every exit, committing every face to memory, making special note of which men were Negan's special guys. Which men were Negan. You spoke to a few people, quiet ones who seemed like they were just trying to survive. On the third day of your 'freedom', the fat man approached you. "Show dog, Negan wants you. Said to hit a shower, then come see him."

You fought to not show the cringe that went through you. "Only Negan calls me that, fat-ass." You said, clinging to a false bravado.

"It's 'Fat Joey', and I am Negan."

"Yeah, well, I apparently belong to Negan... but I don't belong to you, Fat Joey. So obviously, you're not Negan enough." You said, grabbing a pair of clean jeans and a clean white v-neck shirt and pushing past the man to go shower. The water was cold; hot water being a luxury for those who didn't work for points. You could've gone to the other showers but you heeded Dwight's advice about Negan's other women.

Your mind poured over the information you'd gained from your fellow meek Sanctuary dwellers. Negan wasn't as bad as he seemed. He saved them. The people who were originally here, they were dying and Negan and Lucille saved them. That's why he and his men were Saviors. Negan was a veteran, a Marine. Everything he did, it was for the good of his people. He had to keep his people alive first and, like it or not, you were one of his now. Just do what you're told, keep your head down, kneel when you see the man... become his favorite...

As you pulled a two blade, disposable razor up your leg, you imagined how you would've have reacted to this situation before everything went to shit. You were hit on by a lot of older men, mostly doctors who were old enough to need those little blue pills themselves, when you were a pharma rep, but none like Negan. Physically, the man was attractive in much the same way Dean was. Nice muscles, pretty eyes, a beautiful (if not completely psychotic) smile and his cock wasn't bad, not that you had a lot of reference. If you hadn't known he was insane, you were certain you wouldn't have any trouble with the man.

And that's what you clung to as you dried yourself off with your one allotted towel and put on your simple clothing choice, not bothering with a bra or panties. 'Every villain is a hero in his own mind'. Negan is a savior and not an evil man. He's just a man trying to do right by his people. A man, maybe driven a little mad by the power of ruling a group. It's one of the reasons why you traveled alone for so long.

You found yourself in front of one of Negan's rooms, your damp hair clinging to the back of your shirt. It wasn't where he slept, but it was where he entertained himself, where you would entertain him. You took a deep breath. You knew what was coming but you weren't sure exactly how. You knocked at the door, lightly, then dropped to one knee as you heard him approach the door. He chuckled when he opened it. "You learn fast, don't'cha? Stand up. Get in here."

Your eyes fell on the bed first, a mattress with pillows and a comforter, jacked up by several stacks of blond pallets. Your eyes then searched the room for Lucille. As Negan closed the door, you found her, tucked behind a television set playing a VHS of 'Cheers'. You breathed a sigh of relief. He was never without her, but at least the weapon was away from arms reach. "Want something to drink? A little Hunter's Helper?" He offered, picking up a bottle of whiskey from the counter. You nodded, hopefully not too eagerly, excited to have something to dull your senses. Even if it was Wild Turkey 101.

You gave a tight smile as he handed you a glass half-full and you took a gulp as you looked at the TV. "I used to watch this on 'Nick at Night' when I was a kid."

Negan sat in the recliner, but didn't look at the show. He focused on you, even as he took his own mouthful of liquor. "How do you like my Sanctuary?"

You bit the inside of your lip, taking a moment before answering. "It's not bad. I've lived worse places. My dorm at college was chaos, like an all-girl 'Lord of the Flies' without the pigs to hunt." You took another drink of whiskey, which burned the inside of your lip, where you'd apparently broken the skin. "You run a tight ship, which makes sense, I guess, since you used to be a Marine. That where you got the skills to keep people safe from walkers?"

"Not even close." He sat forward in his seat. "But it's not the zombies that are the problem. Zombies are useful. They guard our gates. It's people. People are the problem. I run a tight ship because I can tell which problems are fixable... and which problems get to guard the gate."

A copper taste brought your attention to your lip, which you'd taken to biting again. You took another drink, then continued on your 'military' line of questioning. "You know I, uh, I grew up in an Air Force town."

"Pussies." He interjected, somehow leaning forward more.

You forced a chuckle. "Yeah. You're right. But small town... Service was pretty much the only way out. Most of my friends went Army. Hoo-ah."

"This where you tell me you've decided to give me the benefit of the doubt due to my service to a now-nonexistent country about 20 years before you were born?"

"No, sir." You replied, squaring your shoulders. "It's where I tell you that Abraham Ford was Army and he'd be cursin' up a storm if he knew a fuckin' jarhead put him down."

He laughed, rather than make an angry move for Lucille as you'd feared he might. He stood, slowly, taking his glass over to the counter to pour more Wild Turkey. Then, he returned to his line of questioning. "You ever killed anybody?"

"No." You answered, simply, your tongue darting out to mess with the bite inside your mouth.

"You must've made it inside the walls of Alexandria fucking quick if you never saw any truly desperate people."

"I saw plenty of desperate people. They just never saw me." You set your glass next to the TV and leaned against the TV stand. "Daryl brought me into Alexandria just a couple months before any of us heard your name."

"You survived by hiding? What, from everyone? How'd Daryl get his hands on ya?" He leaned against the counter, mimicking your stance.

"Took a wrong turn in Albuquerque, wound up trapped in some warehouse in West Virginia. Ghouls were chasing me, I fell through a rotted staircase into this basement electrical closet. Broke my leg, cracked my skull. I laid in that basement for two days, completely certain I was dead. I mean, the barricade I put at the door was sure to fail before I dehydrated to death. I'm surprised it lasted as long as it did. I was pretty gone when Daryl busted through my barricade and came to find me. He said he knew I was there 'cause the walkers were acting like hound dogs or coon dogs or... something 'had a raccoon treed'. He put me on the front of his bike, tied me to his waist and hauled ass back to Alexandria. Denise set my leg, let the pressure out of my head and I was fine to meet new people for the first time in years."

"And then I showed up and started killin' 'em."

You shook your head. "We killed your men first." You shrugged. "They deserved it. Had to know folks would fight back when you try to take their shit."

"Not their shit, anymore. It's mine."

"Yeah, now, 'cause you broke Rick, but when Daryl blew up your men with a rocket launcher, that rocket launcher was Abraham's."

He laughed. "Rocket launcher! Fucking crazy as fuck."

You chuckled, relaxing a bit. Now that the liquor had started to warm you, he didn't seem so menacing, anymore. "Yeah... That was pretty fucking crazy."

"So, where were you heading in West Virginia?" He picked his glass up and began to drink again.

"Nowhere. Back then, I kinda just wanted to keep moving. Staying in one place just seemed like a bad idea. My parents died last time I tried to make a home someplace. What made you stay here?"

"Seemed as good a place as any. And these people needed my help. That's what I did back then, I helped people."

"And now?"

"Now, I help me." He pushed away from the counter, sliding his glass next to the bottle as he moved toward you. "I take what I want, when I want because that's how the world works now. The guy who can put down a herd of zombies with a baseball bat and some big cajones, he gets everything he's ever desired."

"Except his dead wife back." You whispered as he stopped in front of you.

"Yeah. Except for that."

"What was her name?" You asked, shaking a bit as he reached over and grabbed a piece of your hair, still damp from your shower.

"Mary."

"Were you together long? You said she died in '83?"

"I don't wanna talk about my wife. The dead one or the new one."

"Okay. I just... with Sherry, I know who I'm up against. I was just trying to get a feel for... what kind of competition I've got from the memory of a ghost." You reasoned. You lied. In fact, you were hoping that thinking of his first wife would turn him off from his plans for you.

"You vying to be Wife #3?" He ran his hand down the front of your v-neck, pulling the front hem up to expose your breasts.

"I have no delusions about my reason for being here, Negan. I-I'm here for just one thing and I can be the one you like most or... or I can look forward to wa-watching the gate." You covered.

"You're cute when you lie." He pulled the shirt over your head, twisting the fabric when it got to your wrists and holding your arms, tangled in white cotton, above your head. "You were trying to use Mary against me. Smart move. You know, I'm impressed by the manipulation..." You tried to look down, away from him, but his left hand grabbed your chin and forced you to look at his face. "...and how you picked up on the importance of Mary from, what, two mentions of her. I toss her memory around so people think I don't give a fuck. How'd you know?"

"It was a guess." You whispered.

"Lie." His left hand dropped to your hip, the thumb digging into your muscle, putting pressure on a sensitive point just above where your jeans sat. It caused your knee to buckle but he held you up by your wrists.

"Your eyes!" You squealed, shifting as much weight to your good leg as you could. "When you first mentioned her, the 'Doe-eyes' thing, you smiled, but not with your eyes. Your eyes were sad." You responded, quickly.

He ceased the pressure, but kept his hand in place, thumb tapping the spot which was sure to be bruised in a couple hours. "Damn. Would've been great at the investigation side, if the world hadn't ended." He mumbled to himself before untangling the shirt from your wrists and pulling it completely away from you. "She was beautiful, had a tough attitude, but motherhood softened her like butter. She was too good for me, even back when I was a good man." He dropped the shirt to the floor at your feet and let your arms drop to your sides.

"You... you could be good..." You whispered as he unbuttoned your jeans.

"You're not here to preach at me. I'm fine with the man I am, now. I have fun, so... you just need to get on board."

"I am. I'm on board with whatever you want of me. I, I want to be."

"I want you on the bed." He dropped your jeans to your feet and you reflexively stepped out of them as he pulled you toward the mattress. He lifted you, tossing you a short distance to the middle of the bed, your head somehow landing right below the pillows. He grabbed your ankle and rubbed a rough thumb across your shin. "You shaved for me. Even trimmed that pretty bush. Oh, and that gorgeous pink blush all the way down to your tits. Hard bitches don't blush." You closed your eyes, feeling the heat of that blush in your cheeks. His hand continued its journey up your right leg stopping at an inch-long, thick white scar on the outside of your calf. "Looks like a stab wound." He looked up at you as he ran his thumb up and down the small patch of discoloration.

"Um, there was a, uh, trap somebody set up in the woods in Alabama, where they sharpened all the thick twigs on a low-hanging branch and bend it back, tie it off. Mom walked into it, I pushed her out of the way, got a pointy twig in my leg for the trouble."

His hand moved up to your abs, where a thin, jagged scar ran from your belly button to just below the pressure point Negan had jammed his thumb into. "And this one?"

You chuckled, tightly. "Barbed wire fence got me. I wasn't willing to sacrifice my jacket to hold the wire down, so I tried to just vault over it... I'm lucky I was up on my tetanus booster. It could've been bad."

"No bullet wounds, no knife scars. Look at you. Hell, the only bruises on you are the ones I put there. You are near mint condition." He scoffed, but not derisively. He seemed almost awed by you. "Even nearly a virgin. There's that blush again." He slid his hand up, between the valley of your breasts, to lay across your collarbone. "You are not to move. This will be far less fun for you if I have to tie you down. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." You whispered, making sure not to move your head.

"Those manners..." He mumbled, before bracing his left arm on the mattress and vaulting his fully clothed and booted body onto the bed, straddling your nude form. He looked you over, before grabbing your hands and pulling them above your head. He didn't have to tell you not to move them from the pillow. You entwined your fingers together as he leaned over you and brought your earlobe between his lips, scraping his teeth across the soft skin. It wasn't until he'd kissed, licked and nipped from your ear to the crook of your neck, his beard rubbing against your skin as his hands dragged up and down your arms, that it dawned on you that it felt good. Why would he want you to feel good?

The question disintegrated in your head as he moved down your body to catch your left nipple between his lips. Your right breast came under attack from his left hand, grabbing it lightly and rolling it under his palm. You wiggled under the weight of his body, unable to prevent your body's search for friction. His ministrations stopped immediately, as he pulled back and looked down at you. "What'd I say?"

"I'm sorry. I, I couldn't help it. I'm sorry. I'll try harder." You were breathless.

"Aw. Am I neglecting something?" He asked, bringing his right knee between your legs and rubbing his jean-clad knee against your mound. You moaned, your hands clenched together while you tried to remind yourself not to move, not to rub yourself against the man. "What do you want me to do to you?"

You swallowed, unable to think clearly. "Whatever you want."

"Good answer." He dipped his head down to lick at your neck, his knee rubbing persistent pressure in between your thighs. He pulled it away, moving down your body, trailing kisses across your skin. He ran his tongue across the barbed wire scar, then dipped it into the juncture where your leg and hip meet. You jumped, his tongue suddenly drawing circles around your clit, but he didn't stop to reprimand you this time, instead putting his right hand on your abs to hold you down as he began to lick deliberate, rough stripes from your opening to your clit.

"Oh, god." You whined, squirming under his strong grip as the middle finger of his left hand sunk easily into you. As he added his first finger, you brought your hands down to cover your eyes, in an mad attempt to control something. With his fingers fucking you with expert precision and his mouth making obscene slurping noises against your womanhood, it was easy to forget yourself. Forget what brought you to the Sanctuary, forget the demeaning way he'd treated you since you got here, forget anything and everything except the man between your thighs, worshipping you with his mouth. As your orgasm built inside of you, it just didn't seem to matter.

It crashed over you, tendrils of pleasure snaking across your body as you tried to not hyperventilate. He slid away again, dropping off the bed and toeing his boots off as you nervously moved your hands back to the pillow. He dropped his jacket to the ground, followed by his shirt and pants, then crawled onto the bed, his erection dragging along the comforter beneath you. He looked down at you, before pressing a bruising, possessive kiss on your lips. "You don't have to worry. I already like you better than the others."

The noise you made as his cock found your entrance and quickly sunk into you, sliding in easily amongst the lubrication your body provided and his own saliva, was somewhere between a moan and a squeal. There was pain, of course. He was bigger than anything you'd had, even your old toys, definitely bigger than those two fingers he'd just had in you. He'd given you no time to adjust before slamming balls deep, so there was definitely pain.

But pain is fleeting and it was quickly dominated by the wholy unique feeling of fullness. "Shit!" He groaned. "Do that again."

"What?" You hadn't realized you'd done anything.

"That clenching, kegel thing you just did."

"Oh." You breathed out, before repeating the action.

"Ooh. Goddamn, if more women did that, we'd have no problem getting the population back." He reached down and hooked your legs behind his back, then took each of your hands in his, rubbing a thumb over each palm. "Now, you put these hands wherever you need to. You move however you want. Participation is not only encouraged, I'd say it's damn near required, at this point."

You nodded, tightening your legs around him and putting your hands on his shoulders. He put his left hand on your hip and put the other on mattress, next to your head for support. He gave you another moment to get ready, then, he began to move.

It was unlike anything you'd ever felt. His girth rubbed against the sensitive walls inside you, his cock head reaching your cervix with every motion. You moaned, your hands clutching at his neck and back. "Oh, my God!"

"You're a fuckin' dream, y/n." He grunted into your ear as he fucked you into the mattress. "So hot. So wet. So fucking pretty and pure." He pulled out, unhitching your legs and flipping you onto your stomach with ease. He grabbed your hips and pulled you up onto your hands and knees. "And you're mine."

You whimpered as he grabbed your hair and slammed back into you. "Yes." You whispered, your neck craning as he used your hair as leverage.

"What?" He demanded, pounding into you, his balls slapping against you in a quick rhythm.

"Yes! I'm yours. Negan, God... Yours."

"Damn straight." He grunted as he reached around to move his fingers, roughly across your clit. Your arms gave out as another orgasm slammed into your nerves, your head meeting the mattress. Negan continued to fuck you, picking up speed and pounding your face into the comforter. His hand tightened in your hair as he gave several more pumps, then stilled as his cock spilled inside of you, twitching happily within your walls.

He pulled out and collapsed to the bed next to you, both of you breathing heavily. "So..." He started, sliding his arm around you and turning you to lay your head on his chest. "Best you ever had?"

"Definitely." You whispered.

"Aren't you glad you got my attention?"

"Yes, sir." You weren't. Definitely rather be home in Alexandria, but... It could be worse. He could be more horrid. And that was a fairly amazing... workout session.

"I like that respect, y/n, but..." He sighed, deeply, satisfaction emanating from him. "As long as we're alone and I'm in a good fuckin' mood, I won't call you 'bitch' or a show dog name... and you can call me 'John'."

"Thank you." You relaxed against his chest.

"That was a workout. We're gonna need a nap before we get to work."

"Work?"

"Oh, sweetheart. Can't have my favorite girl walking around unable to defend herself. Hiding only gets you so far, y/n."

You sat up a little and looked down at him. "You're going to, what, teach me to fight? Aren't... Aren't you concerned I might-"

"Fight back against me? No. I'm not gonna teach you enough to kill me. And I'm certain that you don't hate me near as much as you did when you walked in here. Right?"

"Right." You responded, lying your head on his chest again and sighed. "You seem to be right a lot of the time, John." You experimented with his first name. It definitely didn't have the same fear factor as 'Negan', but neither did the man you were lying with.

"I try." He wrapped his arm around you tighter and adjusted the pillow under his head with the other hand. "Get some rest, gorgeous."

[blitheringmcgonagall]

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin Additional Tags: wolfstar, jily, Marauders Medical AU, jily fic - Freeform, wolfstar fic, language, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Minor Character Deaths (well they aren’t minor to me, sob!!), Angst, Fluff

Chapter 4 : Oh, Just a Little Bit Wrong

Flashback to 8 years ago… James was about to go on his first date with Lily Evans, Sirius had been disowned and kicked out by his family and due to reasons he remained unaware of, Remus Lupin was no longer talking to him… and things were about to get a hell of a lot worse for them both… 

Soooo I may have gone a bit nuclear on the ANGST level here, apparently... oops!!!!

(That’s me thoroughly ashamed of myself!!!)

But if you are okay with angsty marauders, read on....!

                      Chapter 4 : Oh, Just a Little Bit Wrong

“Any plans for today?” James asked, flopping down on the 🛋️ opposite Sirius.

“No,” Sirius replied, without looking up from his 💻.

“Why don’t you come to the gym with me?” said James.

“No thanks,” Sirius said.

“Coffee shop? The Italian one you 💛?” persisted James.

Sirius shook his head.

“Pads, you’ve been hiding away in here for weeks now, you need to start getting out a bit more,” said James frowning. “Mum and dad are 😟 about you.”

Mr. & Mrs. Potter adored Sirius. He had taken to spending more and more time in their 🏠 over the years, and they had welcomed him with open arms, treating him as part of the family. Now that he had been disowned by his parents, Sirius had been told to move in permanently. James was right, they were all concerned about his wellbeing. Sirius was looking decidedly thin, he thought. His usually tight jeans looked baggy on him, his hair unkempt, his eyes dull.

“I’m 😟 about you,” he sighed.

“Don’t worry about me, s’fine,” said Sirius, leaning back on the arm of the sofa.

“God Sirius, when you do that 😔 😁 that doesn’t reach your eyes, it cries out that you’re fucking miserable!” said James, leaning forwards and clasping his hands together.

“Psychobabble,” muttered Sirius, closing his eyes. “🆗, fine, I’m miserable. Plenty of people have had their hearts broken. My family are all horrible and they’ve always hated me, nothing new there. And I wasn’t even in a relationship with Remus, I’ll get over it soon enough, don’t worry.”

“Fucking Lupin, wanker!” muttered James crossly.

Sirius opened his eyes again.

“Don’t you dare bad-👄 Remus,” he said tight-lipped. “He’s not obliged to go out with me.”

James opened his 👄 to protest and thought better of it. Remus Lupin had been downright rude and obnoxious, refusing to even speak to Sirius since that night.

“Any word from Reg?” he tried, immediately regretting it.

“Not. A. Thing.” said Sirius darkly, drumming his fingers on his thigh. “I’ve tried contacting him on Facebook, texted him, even emailed him and tried to call him. Nothing.”

James grunted angrily.

“I’m ⚰️ to him, 🆗? I don’t exist, erased from all records of the Black family. I looked at Reg’s Facebook page before he blocked me and all the photos with me have been deleted, any childhood pics gone. Same with my cousins, and obviously my fucking parents…”

“Fuck!” said James.

He hated 👀 Sirius like this – hurting, vulnerable, rejected. He wanted to fix everything for him. Do something. Anything. But he couldn’t. He had already tried to contact Reg himself, tried to corner him leaving Grimmauld Place, to no avail.

“Alright, look, come on, let’s get out of here for a few hours,” said James, trying a new tack. “I need a distraction before I meet Lily in town later on.”

“Nervous, Prongs?” smirked Sirius, momentarily diverted.

“Yes, you bastard, sod off!” James replied, throwing a cushion at Sirius.

“Fine, only cause I’m an excellent best friend,” said Sirius, standing up unenthusiastically. “But I need a 🚿.”

“You really do, you stink!” said James, grinning.

“Some best mate you are!” said Sirius, rolling his eyes.

James smiled happily and headed for the kitchen. He was famished. Rooting around in the fridge he took out a protein drink and switched on the 📺, which he rarely 👀. He was about to stretch out on the sofa when he heard a long, urgent ring on the doorbell. Wandering to the 🚪 barefoot, he threw on a 👕 over his running shorts. When he opened the 🚪, his 👄 gaped.

“may I come in? Please, it’s urgent. I only have a few minutes.”

It was Sirius’ younger brother, Reg. He looked harassed and fearful, carrying a sports bag, wearing 🕶️ and a ⚾ cap, and glancing over his shoulder repeatedly.

“Come in,” said James immediately, stepping aside.

Silently Reg entered the Potter’s 🏠, standing uncomfortably in the hall.

“Can we stand away from the windows please? I’m concerned I may have been followed,” he whispered.

Nodding swiftly James brought him into the library where the curtains were already drawn.

“What’s wrong, Reg?” he asked bluntly.

“Everything. Everything’s fucked,” he said.

His breathing was shallow, and James was pretty sure he was starting to have a panic attack.

“It’s 🆗, you’re safe here, Reg,” James said, squeezing his shoulder. “Sit down, I’ll get you a drink.”

“No time,” rasped Reg, taking deep breaths. “I need to talk to Sirius. Immediately. It’s a matter of life and death.”

Those brothers certainly had a flair for the dramatic, thought James.

“I’ll get him,” said James, turning to leave.

The 🚪 of the library opened, and Sirius came in, a towel wrapped round his waist, hair and body still dripping from the 🚿.

“What’s going on?” he demanded, looking from Reg to James in agitation. “I thought I heard your voice.”

“It’s… I have to…” Reg froze.

“For God’s sake, tell me Reg!” yelled Sirius, grabbing Reg by the shoulders. “Did they hurt you?”

“They will when they find out what I’m doing,” said Reg, locking eyes with his older brother. “I’m going to the media with it.”

“Fuck. What did you do?” asked Sirius urgently, his grey eyes piercing.

“I’m telling them everything. That new wonder drug that was in the news recently, Salazar, the one that was meant to be a miracle cure for MS sufferers?” said Reg.

“Yeah, James’ parents’ lab was developing it originally, I know, what about it?“ said Sirius, looking confused.

“That’s right,” said James. “Some whiz scientist, Tom Riddle, was responsible for most of the work, he’s supposedly a total genius. My parents sold it to Slytherin Pharma two years ago, Riddle had said he needed more investment to complete its development and refused to continue working for them. They weren’t keen cause they knew your parents run that company, and there have been rumours about unethical practices for decades, but nothing was ever proved. Riddle made them feel guilty, saying they were responsible for depriving sufferers of a potential cure for MS. The share price for Slytherin Pharma shot up in the past few months, as the research papers published recently supported the hype. I don’t get it… that drug was due to be launched next week?”

“It won’t be launched now. Not if you agree with my plan,” said Reg, turning to Sirius. “It’s all a lie. I heard Riddle talking to mother and father about it. The drug has serious side effects, it causes potentially lethal problems. The 400 people who were involved in the trial are starting to develop liver and kidney complications.  Riddle said he thinks they will all develop organ failure. Riddle has lied to each of them so they each think theirs is a one-off case and told them they have randomly developed an autoimmune disorder unconnected to the drug. He’s referred them to a consultant who is as shady as he is and who is involved in the cover up. No doubt our parents are paying him handsomely for his help. They’ve decided not to call a halt to the development of the drug, which ethically they have to. They plan to release it onto the market as planned, so the share price will continue to sky 🚀. Then they plan to sell Slytherin Pharma to one of the big American drug companies that has been interested in a possible take over for the past nine months. The side effects only become apparent after around a year of treatment and they are permanent. When patients start to die, and the law suits start, it won’t be their problem any longer. They plan to transfer the 💰 into a secret offshore account, so nobody can touch it. They may get fined, but they’ll probably lie and declare bankruptcy, if needed, and nobody will have proof they knew about these problems. Riddle has altered the blood test results; the data any investigator will find is all fake.”

“Fucking hell!” said Sirius, staring at his brother dumbfounded. “They can’t do that!”

“Oh, they are doing it, trust me,” said Reg. “I confronted them about it and they confirmed it. They think I’ll stay quiet as otherwise we lose everything. They also threatened me if I go to the media. Said Riddle has contacts who will make sure I end up ⚰️ if the story is leaked.”

“What?” said James, looking horrified.

He had been listening to the story in shock. His parents, his poor parents, were going to be so upset. But this?

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” said Sirius grimly, eying his brother with concern. “You need to disappear stat, hide out in Europe till this whole thing blows over. You can’t afford to hang around, too dangerous, give me the proof and I’ll do it immediately,” said Sirius.

“They don’t know that last night I managed to get into father’s 💻 and sent myself all the incriminating data, it wasn’t difficult when his password is England4theEnglish,” said Reg bitterly.

“The slogan for the Nationalist Liberation 🙌,“ said James, looking disgusted. “Should we not call the police?”

“Afterwards,” said Sirius. “My parents have connections everywhere, old Eton ties, family loyalties going back hundreds of years. I bet they have contacts in Scotland Yard, or even in MI5.”

“Agreed,” Regulus stood up. “I need to leave, I don’t want to put you in danger.”

Sirius shook his head.

“Reg, don’t! Is there anything I can do? Come with you?”

“No, it’ll be much easier to escape notice on my own. I’m not as extraordinary looking as you are, pretty hard to blend into the background when you look like a male model!”

Sirius rolled his eyes fondly.

“Just promise you’ll release this before they can stop us!” said Reg.

Sirius nodded.

“How do you know you weren’t followed?” asked James.

“You don’t. We need a disguise!” said Sirius. “And I have just the thing, from a recent fancy-dress 🙌!”

………………………………………………

A slim woman with long blonde hair and 🕶️ emerged from the Potter’s 🏠 a short while later. She slung a Hermes bag into the front seat of the maroon coloured vintage Porche in the Potter’s driveway and drove off at a leisurely pace.

“Who’s that?” said Crouch, training his surveillance equipment on her.

“Some posh bird, probably Sirius’ girlfriend,” shrugged Lestrange, speaking into the hidden 🎤. “We stay put till they move, and then we don’t lose them, especially Regulus. We were told to cause serious injuries today as a warning, and kill him if he leaks the story to anyone.”

………………………………………………

The Guardian’s UK News Editor, Kingsley Shaklebolt, couldn’t believe what he was hearing from Sirius, but a quick scan of the data sent to him was convincing enough for him to make a decision. The Black family were often in the media due to their huge wealth. Walburga, with her stunning beauty and eerily preserved youth, was always noticeable at society gatherings, and the brothers’ good looks resulted in their photographs being splattered Everywhere. Sirius was instantly recognisable as legit. This was going to be a massive story.

“Sirius, I’ve seen the data and that YouTube video of your brother summarising what happened and what he was told. I’ll contact all media outlets, it’s going to hit the headlines immediately.”

…………………………………………

The doorbell rang and both Sirius and James jumped.

“Fuck!” hissed Sirius. “Who the fuck is that?”

“Don’t know,” said James, advancing towards the 🚪 warily. “Sirius, can you lock yourself in the library and call the police straight away? I’m better off playing dumb and pretending Reg hasn’t been here, I’ll keep them occupied till the police arrive, yeah?”

“Fuck!” said Sirius, glaring.

How bloody helpful, possible heavies at the 🚪 and him with nothing but a towel wrapped round him!

“Move!” said James.

He opened the 🚪 as the library 🚪 clicked shut.

“May I – oh, it’s you,” said James, staring at Snape’s scowling face in the porch. “What do you want?”

James glanced nervously around and cursed Snape, he needed to get that idiot out of there as soon as possible, given they might be getting an unpleasant visit soon.

“Charming as ever, Potter,” sneered Snape, looking positively livid.

“I’m in a hurry Snape, what do you want?” repeated James, keeping his voice stern.

“I want you to fuck off and leave Lily Evans alone, do you understand? We are dating, in fact we live together. She was too intimidated to say no to your request for a date, so she asked me to tell you. I believe her exact words were to tell you to fuck off and leave her alone, or she’ll contact the police and get you charged with stalking her,” said Snape, looking triumphantly at James.

“What the ever-living fuck?” said James, looking completely bewildered. “Look, I don’t have time for this 💩! I will certainly clarify with Evans when I meet her if this bullshit is true, or if you’re a lying git. Alright? Now get the fuck out of here!”

He stepped forward menacingly. He had to get rid of Snape, and fast.

“Don’t you threaten me, you entitled, little stuck-up bastard!” shouted Snape, as without warning he aimed a 🥊 at James’ face.

James fell backwards, and his head hit the floor with a thud.

The library 🚪 flew open and Sirius emerged looking like thunder.

“You greasy fucker!” he screamed, still only wearing the white towel, holding the poker he had just picked up and advancing ominously. “Get the fuck out of here, or I will personally beat you to within an inch of your life!”

Snape looked at him in fear and began walking backwards.

Continue reading here Maybe I Waited Too Long - A Marauders Medical AU