#show!amber has been through too much shit. she deserves to come back but i think it should be in a fun way | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

something-tofightfor · 4 years ago

Text

The ABC’s of Ezra (Prospect)

I am absolutely terrified to post this, first of all. But @the-blind-assassin-12 has been absolutely enabling me the entire time that I’ve been working on it.

It’s long. It’s explicit. It’s thorough. It’s Ezra. The emotions that I feel for this man are overwhelming, and I wanted to do right by him and expand his backstory and my take on the character before I even begin to work on the accompanying story ... but this is the Ezra you’ll get to know when you read the series “Starlight” that I’m working on currently. Please enjoy. Start to fall in love with him the same way I did the first time I saw his smirk through that suit’s helmet, or the first time Reader did when she watched him take the podium in her lecture.

You won’t regret it.

** I’m working on a playlist that will accompany this and Starlight. Look for it within the next couple days. ** (always accepting songs to add. Just let me know if you have any suggestions!)

Rating: NSFW. This is not for anyone under 18.

Pairing: Ezra x Reader-insert character (Starlight Universe; female)

Word Count: 12,892 (And I won’t apologize for a single one of them.)

Author’s Note: A lot of these will be two part answers - before the Green Moon, and after the time Ezra spent away from his ‘home’ planet.

I HC that while he isn’t from the Ephrate, that’s where he spent the majority of his adult life - and where he met you, at a university on-planet… so he considers it home, and it was always his goal to return when he was done with his prospecting years.

I know that after reading this, you’ll probably have a lot more questions about my version of Ezra that weren’t answered here - hopefully, I’ll be able to answer them moving forward. Send away if you want to know!

Most of these tend to lean on the highly smutty side, but there are a few that include much more generalized personality traits.

(shitty blonde streak editing and enhancement done to this picture by me, myself and I)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Just looking at him, you’d think that Ezra wouldn’t like hanging around after sex, but the exact opposite is true.

Ezra loves to lay with you. Sometimes, he’ll wrap an arm around you,lips traveling over any area of exposed skin he can find with them. He’s partial to your shoulders, no matter whether he’s got his chest pressed to your back, or you’re facing each other. Ezra’s a very tactile man, and loves to keep the connection going even after the actual act is done. You quickly learned that for him, sex was not the most important aspect of the relationship, even though it was one of his favorites.

One of the things that kept you company - even while he was gone - was the memory of the hours you spent in bed together; day or night, winter or summer - with him right there, skin warm against yours, the sheets tinged with the scent of the two of you together and the sound of your voices mixing together as you spoke.

But it wasn’t just the man’s lingering presence that you enjoyed, it was the things you talked about after sex that made you realize that you loved him. He’d take care of you, and then ensure that the two of you were cleaned up “to his satisfaction” (the line always delivered with a smirk and one raised eyebrow) and then you’d lay with each other until you fell asleep, talking about everything but your relationship. He wanted to learn about you - and wanted you to learn about him, to find out about the things that you had in common, and even though he tried to hide it a lot of the time, Ezra was downright vulnerable in bed, and unafraid to show that side of himself to you, even after he returned home for the last time.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Ezra’s favorite thing about himself is the way he thinks, so… his mind. And it’s been that way for as long as he can remember. Does that sound conceited? Yes. Does he care? No.

Education is appealing to him - he likes knowing things. He likes knowing that he’s the smartest person in the room (as long as you’re not there) and knowing that if there’s an answer for it (whatever it is)… he can find it. And he will. Education - being capable and understanding things - was always the most important task to him, even growing up, and he doesn’t take the opportunity to learn for granted. He retains information very well - and not just academic information, either. He knows what to look for when it comes to your body, what each facial expression you make means, what you’re going to do when you put your hands on him… and even sometimes before, too.

His favorite part of you? Your mouth. Specifically, your lips and the way they look when you’re smiling at him. You could be smiling at anyone, saying their name, teeth digging into the corner of your lip while you listen to them … and yet you’re choosing to look at him.

He remembers the way they felt the first time you kissed him, remembers the way they moved the first time you told him that you loved him, and the way that they parted - your jaw dropping as you saw him standing in front of you all those years later is burned into his brain forever. And he also doesn’t mind one bit when they’re wrapped around him or exploring the scarred skin of his body, giving every inch of him the attention that he deserves - and everything that he craved while stranded on The Green Moon.

(No one asked for this but I’m also going to talk about what your favorite part of him is)

It’s his eyes, and the way they catch the light. The way that you can see him in them, even when he’s looking at or talking to someone else. It’s the way that no matter how hard he tries to keep his expression even, he can’t keep the emotion out of his eyes - so dark and emotivr that it’s hard to believe they’re natural. You always know whether or not he’s lying based on the look in them, and it was one of the first things you told him that truly surprised him. Why?

Ezra’s a smooth talker - and because he’s so used to being able to talk his way into and out of everything, people are much more focused on what he’s saying than how he looks or what he’s doing while he’s saying it - and that’s what he counts on. He isn’t used to people taking him seriously right off the bat, or paying close attention to anything but what they hear - and Kevva knows that it scared the shit out of you to be so bold with him, especially when you didn’t know him well.

But you did. And it earned you his respect immediately. So whenever Ezra has something important to tell you, he does so while looking directly at you. He doesn’t give a fuck what other people see or think, but he needs you to know that he’s telling you the truth - or at least as much of the truth as he can.

You’re also very partial to the streak of blonde in his hair; and when you’re relaxing with him, your fingers - particularly your thumb - always seem to find it. In fact, when you saw him again, it was what convinced you that it was actually him in the first place, and not your mind playing tricks on you with a lookalike (as if there could be anyone else in the galaxy that looked like Ezra.

… and, you love his hands. Both of them, one of them - doesn’t matter, because you know that as long as it’s possible, when they’re on your body? Ezra’s going to use them well.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

When you first started seeing (and sleeping with) Ezra, things weren’t messy, because you used protection. If you ask him, Ezra liked those days a lot, because it meant that as soon as you finished, the two of you could stay in bed instead of one or both of you needing to get up and head into the bathroom. You were both “safe”, choosing to rely on the implant provided to all students at the University if they asked for it, but since there was no expectation of a long term relationship when you went to bed together, you opted for an additional safeguard in the beginning - at Ezra’s suggestion.

‘I do believe that it would be in both of our best interests to…” He trailed off, gesturing to the on-campus pharmacy. “... ensure a certain level of additional protection.”

“You don’t trust me?” His eyebrows shot up, a look of worry filling his eyes. “No, you know what? That shouldn’t even be my first question to you, Ezra.” You chewed on your lip, fighting back a grin. It was usually you urging your partners in that direction, and Ezra’s solution had been a surprise. “What makes you think that we’re going to end up in bed together? Why would we need -”

He stepped closer, reaching up with his hand - the one that had the tattoo inked into the webbing between his thumb and first finger - to brush the hair away from your brow, eyes never leaving yours. “You will need to learn something about me.” He tilted his head slightly to the side, leaning in. “I am always prepared. And with you?” He paused, the sunlight turning his eyes into molten amber; flecks of gold visible in their depths. “It is an ineluctable fact that your bed is where I want to end up. I’m just … getting to the point.”

But later, after you’d been together for long enough to truly trust the implants and their success rate, that wasn’t the case anymore. While neither of you have an issue or any real complaints about remaining in bed, damp and sticky against the sheets when you’ve finished with each other, Ezra relishes the time he gets to spend eyeing every inch of you, running a damp cloth over your skin or between your legs - and enjoys when you clean him up just as much.

However. The times you use your mouth to do so? Ezra’s eyes roll back, and he thanks Kevva over and over the entire time.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Ezra’s secret is the same both before and after the Green, and while he thinks about it often, it’s most prevalently on his mind when you’re laying next to him, hair spread out on the pillows in the low light. He doesn’t believe he’s good enough for you. Before, it was because he couldn’t provide for you in a way that he believes he should be able to, but after? It’s because without his arm, this is still the case - but it’s coupled with the memories of everything he did on the Green - and why he did it. Technically, this has nothing to do with sex… and yet everything to do with sex at the same time. There’s nothing that makes him feel better - more alive, more present than being with you physically, seeing and feeling your hands on each other … and yet it’s tainted in a way that he can’t explain. As much as Ezra talks out loud, he gets lost in his head, too, and when that happens? It’s hard to bring himself back.

He wanted to do right by you, and after taking the opportunity - going to the Green, spending years apart from you and then coming back and finding you again, part of him thinks that it was the wrong call. And yet he still can’t tell himself no when you give him that smile or say his name quietly, the a catching on your lips and making his heart thump in his chest in a way that it never has for anyone else before.

And he hates himself for being so weak. For all of the terrible things that Ezra’s done in his life - all of the strength he showed while prospecting, all of his common sense, all of his experience? When it comes to you (and, in a way, to Cee) he feels as weak and helpless as he did the moment he realized he’d need to lose an arm to have any hope of surviving.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Ezra’s had his fair share of partners, but only one or two of them were actual relationships. There was the experimentation as a teenager - kisses shared behind closed doors, hands fumbling with clothing (over and beneath it), promises made … the usual.

But after leaving home to go to school, Ezra really hit his stride with women. He always considered himself average - average height, average build, average looks - but it didn’t take him long to realize that that wasn’t what others saw him as - and he’s made the most of it. Learning is important to Ezra, and that doesn’t just mean when it comes to books or artifacts. He focused on studying, focused on getting an education so that he could get a good job after graduating, but he always made time for extracurricular activity, and had plenty of partners to choose from.

With women from all over the galaxy, Ezra was a willing student, patient and focused, taking mental notes - showing off what he’d learned previously and finding the best possible uses for his knowledge. He likes to show off, likes to boast about what he’s learned in the past… and opportunities for practical use of his bedroom skills? He’ll take them.

But don’t confuse his eagerness to learn with him being sleazy; he respected every partner he ever had, and never made them feel like he was using them or didn’t appreciate them when he was with them. Ezra doesn’t like making promises that he can’t keep, and that extends even to one night stands.

The more he knew and learned, the better, but that all stopped the first time he took you to bed, because he quickly realized that there was little - if anything - that could be better than what you’d showed him. It wasn’t you that asked him to stay for the first time - it was him making the request of you, and as the words - haltingly - came out of his mouth, his fingertips moving slowly over your brow and temple as he faced you in bed, he knew that he was absolutely fucked in every sense of the word.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

As with everything else, Ezra likes to prolong sex. This means finding ways to ensure that when the two of you are together, it lasts.

Both before and after the Green, he likes you on top; likes to see what you’re doing, and let you control the pace. Whether you’re kneeling and in an upright position so that he can reach out and touch you, or you’re leaning forward, chests pressed together as you hold onto his shoulders or grip the pillows, this is a favorite for him. This position is much easier for him with one arm, too, since it doesn’t require balance or him supporting himself above you.

Another favorite position for both of you also allows him to give you what you need without the risk of him toppling over. Even though he likes to look at you, you and Ezra have a lot of lazy, slow sex, both of you laying on your sides. Your back pressed to his chest, one leg raised, your foot resting on his ankle to open yourself up to him just enough - he loves it, because you give him the freedom to set the pace, even if he can’t move as deeply within you as he could from another angle.

Ezra likes holding you close - and this allows him to do just that; an arm wrapped tightly around your body, hand on your chest, or his fingers working their magic where you need him most. He can feel the sounds you make from his angle, every inch of your body responding to his touch or his words, and this gives him another opportunity to put his mouth on the skin of your shoulders - as well as easy access to your ear, should he choose to talk. (And he does… but you do, too.) The first time you were together in this position after he came home was also the first time he made an outright joke about losing his arm. For anyone else, it would have ruined the moment, but coming from him? You knew that it was his way of telling you that it was OK to talk about it, that he knew that it was changing the way you were when you were in bed together, but that it was something you’d both have to get used to. What did he say? “I have had an epiphany, just now.” He paused, nuzzling his face into your shoulder from behind, forehead pressed to the back of your neck. “I don’t have to worry about the arm underneath us going numb, no matter how long we remain in this position.”

There was another pause - and then Ezra kissed your shoulder, lips lingering. You didn’t know how to reply, but with shock, realized that you could feel his smile against your skin, though you couldn’t see it. Before you made your choice, you heard him speak again, voice low. “It’s perfectly alright to laugh with me about it, Starlight. I don’t mind.”

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

A lot of people consider Ezra goofy as it is. The way he speaks, the exaggerated movement of his hands and arms, the way that he stands - one hip popped, head cocked to the side … it’s what they see, so they believe that that’s what he is. And he’s worked hard to establish his personality, but there’s so much more to Ezra than 90% of the world sees.

His family is small - the only ones left alive are his brother and sister-in-law, and you’ve met them multiple times - before, during and after Ezra’s time away. With the three of you, and a few select other people, he’s free to be entirely himself - but the most open Ezra is is when it’s just the two of you.

When he’s in bed with you, it fluctuates between serious and relaxed, depending on the circumstances that led up to the two of you in that position. There are times when he is absolutely, positively laser focused on you and getting his hands and mouth on you, but there are just as many times as him joking around with you while you’re watching movies or listening to music, or just hanging around the house has led to more. And you love both sides of him, but you like casual, relaxed Ezra much more… and he knows it. Of course, since Ezra’s vocabulary is a lot different than the other people you’ve been to bed with, there are a lot of times when he sounds serious, and he’s not trying to - but you definitely don’t mind that.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

The first time you saw Ezra, he was dressed to impress - but you very quickly realized that that wasn’t typical for him. Hair styled - slightly longer than most of the other men in your lecture, or the other students - but that bright blonde streak? Everything stood out to you, that included. You wanted to know what it felt like to run your fingers through his hair; even combed back, you could tell that it was soft, the ends curling slightly over the back of his neck.

But you’d noticed that you weren’t the only one intrigued by him - hanging on the words he said as he described the history of a faraway planet - the one he’d focused his entire educational career on - and its eventual downfall, leading to humans scattering throughout the stars. No, most of the other women in the room were of the same mindset as you, along with some of the men, too.

You’d made eye contact with him on your way out of the lecture hall, Ezra’s eyes widening, cheeks going round as he offered you a smile that you knew you wouldn’t forget before he turned his attention to the other people attempting to talk with him, asking him questions about his research. Since there’d been so many people between the two of you, the only thing you could do was grin back, and then write it off as a chance encounter - committing his smile and his voice to memory - but not thinking anything else would come from it… unfortunately. He’d cut his hair shorter before you saw him again, nearly two weeks later, but the streak was still there, and all of it still looked impossibly soft - especially messy and moving in the breeze. He’d reintroduced himself immediately, sticking his hand out and asking for your name, the basic pleasantries only lasting for a few seconds before he switched tactics on you without hesitation.

Ezra was right in the middle of flirting with you on the quad - telling a story to try and convince you to come out with him to a restaurant that he loved without outright asking - and you cut him off, straightening the hem of your shirt as a way to gain confidence - even though it only worked partially and you knew that he knew it.

“Ezra.” Lips pressed tightly together, you lifted an eyebrow, waiting a few seconds as the main trailed off, looking shocked that you’d interrupted him. “You don’t need to tell me everything about the menu.” He was truly surprised, you could see it in his eyes, in the way that he shifted his weight, one hand going to his hip as he watched you, head tilted. “I believe you.” “Then why are we still standing in this same, unbelievably noisy and heavily traversed location?” You couldn’t hold back the smile, adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder. “If my description of the plentiful mealtime offerings hasn’t motivated you to -”

“Ezra.” You liked saying his name almost as much as he liked hearing it, and made a mental note to speak it as often as possible. “You haven’t asked me to go anywhere with you yet.” He laughed at that, fine lines at the corners of his eyes deepening, teeth bared as he grinned at you. You also decided that you liked that sound - very much.

“Well, that is my mistake.” He gestured with one hand in your direction, still smiling broadly. “Do let me rectify that by requesting the honor of your presence tonight for dinner.” You’d thought the way he spoke was strange - though endearing - and even though you weren’t used to it, you also decided that you liked it, too. But I won’t make it easy for him.

“How do you know that I’m not seeing someone, Ezra?” Cocking your head to one side, too, you met his eyes, unblinking. “How do you know that I’m not just letting you dig yourself into a -”

“A woman like you wouldn’t be staring at a man like me the way that you have been since we began this conversation if she were otherwise involved.” Simple. Direct. To the point. You appreciated it more than you were willing to admit, and it was a refreshing change of pace from the other men you’d dated - but even from only a few minutes of conversation and watching him give one lecture, you knew that Ezra wasn’t like other men.

“You’re right.” Biting down on your lower lip, you studied his reaction for a few more seconds before you ran your tongue over it - a movement that he followed with both eyes, not even bothering to hide it. “But you know what else a woman like me wouldn’t be doing if she had someone else?” He quirked an eyebrow, the smile returning. “No, I do not. Enlighten me.” Taking a step closer, you crossed both arms over your chest, looking up and meeting his eyes. “She wouldn’t be staring at you and wondering whether or not that blonde streak of hair is the only one you’ve got.” That got him, the man’s expression changing into one of total surprise, mouth falling open before he let out a quiet whistle and then stepped closer to you, one hand reaching out and settling against the bare skin of your arm, his thumb moving over it slowly - deliberately.

“I’m more than happy to give you the opportunity to find out for yourself.” It wasn’t what he said, but the way he said it, eyes focused on your face, one side of his mouth quirking up into the barest hint of a smile. “Either way, I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.”

You made your decision in a split second, appreciating how direct he was, how brazen the man was in his flirtation with you, and cocked your head to the opposite side, the tip of your tongue poking into the corner of your mouth. “Let’s start with dinner, Ezra. I believe you said you knew a good place?”

Of all the expressions that you ever saw on his face, the smile he gave you in return was in your top three - and it was the beginning of everything.

…. Also? There’s no other blonde streak, but for a man that carries himself in as casual and rugged a way as Ezra? He’s especially well groomed everywhere, and cares a lot about hygiene - even with only one arm. (The only exception is his beard, which you like a lot scruffier than well-trimmed, and he is more than happy to oblige that simple request.)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

When you met Ezra, he was a typical late 20’s student. (Started school late, and was in his second year of the Ephrate’s equivalent of grad school, so roughly 27 Earth years when you meet him, but probably a little older, since time passes differently on different planets.) His good looks, quick wit and that look he gave women when they were speaking to him? He was trouble. You knew it, he knew it, and the rest of the student body knew it, too. He was charming, he was different, because of the way he spoke … but there was one thing that you knew right off the bat, even before you found yourself in bed with him: Ezra. Is. Incredibly. Intimate.

Yeah, he can turn it off and have just sex, but with him, there’s no point to letting him do that. You don’t go to bed with someone like him for it to be just sex, you want everything. But intimacy to Ezra isn’t just the physical act. No… it’s everything that gets you into bed, and everything that comes after.

With his vocabulary, he can go from quoting plays and books - even old movies - to whispering the absolute filthiest things imaginable into your ear in the same breath. And he’s done it, multiple times.

Ezra has a way about him that makes it even so when you don’t know him, it’s like you do, because he’s so observant. He pulls in details from the tiniest things - the way you look in the starlight, the brightness in your eyes when you laugh at something, how one corner of your lips twitches slightly when you’re listening to someone, but don’t quite believe them, or how you tend to dig your teeth in when you’re about to make a point. He sees it all, and he comments on it all, and it goes a hell of a long way to keeping you in the moment with him, strengthening the connection you have.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

On the Ephrate, Ezra didn’t need to resort to this as much as he did before going to school. Yes, there were women at home, but he grew up in a relatively quiet place - so he only had so many options. He was a typical teenager, but even though it felt good, he always knew there was more out there for him - somewhere.

While in school (both times), Ezra had his pick. Thousands of female students from all over the galaxy? Some of them shared his bed. Many of them were the subject of his fantasies. All of them are fond memories, until they’re just not important anymore.

Enter you.

While Ezra’s on the Green, you’re all he thinks about 90% of the time in private. It’s only natural, right? You’re the one he’s planning on going home to, you’re the one he wants to be with - you’re the one he wants to imagine when he’s got a few minutes to himself in his bunk or in the shower. Like with everything, he prefers to take his time, drawing things out and giving himself a chance to get lost in memories… but that’s not the Green.

No. There, he has to be quick, be quiet… and quiet isn’t something that comes easily to Ezra, especially at first. For the first few months he’s gone, the knuckle of his left pointer finger is almost consistently bruised from him biting down on it to muffle the noises he makes. But as time passes, that stops - and instead, Ezra’s able to focus on the small black circles inked in the space between his thumb and forefinger, remembering what it felt like to have your thumb pressed to it when you held hands, or the way your lips looked against it when you’d turn your head and find his hand caressing your cheek. After losing his arm? After losing his dominant hand? Getting himself off was a struggle. He didn’t think about it for the first few weeks, of course, because he was recovering from the amputation and the wound to his chest, but as soon as he was up to it, and he realized that there was a real chance he’d have an actual life - maybe with you again? It was overwhelming. Yes, as soon as he felt well enough, one of the first things Ezra did - in the privacy of a well lit, comfortable bedroom in his recovery room at the Med Center on Central - was get himself off.

But his fingers felt foreign wrapped around his length, thoughts running wild - and not in a good way. Even thinking of you - and of his favorite memory of you - wasn’t enough to help him finish at first. And that is something that shocked him (But it didn’t last long.)

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

One of Ezra’s biggest kinks is blindfolding you. One, because it gives him a chance to appeal to the senses that aren’t sight - it means that he knows you’re into him and responding to him for more than what you can see … and two, it allows him to stare at you without shame or restraint - and it’s one of his favorite things in the universe to do (clothed and unclothed, but he prefers the moments when you’re bared to him. It’s a trust thing again.)

This is true before and after the Green, and after, it makes him feel more confident, because he knows you’re not looking at him - the lost arm, the scars, his weakened body from losing a great deal of weight on decreased rations. It makes him feel more confident, even though deep down, he knows you’re not focusing on any of those things when you look at him.

Two specific instances?

Prior to leaving for the aurelac rush, you were the one that suggested Ezra blindfolding you for the first time. You hadn’t wanted to bring it up, because the truth was that you relished the moments that you got to watch him while you were in bed (or in any number of other places) with each other, but one of your friends had mentioned that she’d tried it on her husband on a whim, and you’d been intrigued. “You want me to forfeit my eyesight, Starlight?” He blinked at you slowly, the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “When looking at you is absolutely all I ruminate about when we’re apart?” “No. Ezra, I want you to…” You paused, nervously chewing on your lip. “I want you to cover my eyes.” Mouth falling open with a quiet laugh, Ezra stepped toward you, reaching out to wind an arm around your waist and pull you into his chest. “You’re distracting.” You lifted a hand, tugging gently on the blonde streak in his hair, your eyes locked. “I don’t want to see what’s coming next, I just want to feel it.” You paused, winking. “And hear you.”

“That is surely … something for me to ponder.” He leaned down, kissing you quiet, and for long moments you let him, grip on his hair relaxing, even though his hand wandered beneath the hem of your shirt, fingertips stroking your lower back. “I am enthralled by this idea,” he murmured into your ear before grazing the lobe with his teeth. “Maybe too much, to be truthful.”

“I’ll tell you if it’s too much, Ezra.” You kissed his cheek, lips pressing to the raised edges of the silvery scar there. “I trust you.”

That was all it took - those three words - and Ezra discovered a new and very fulfilling kink. Eventually, he worked up to asking you to blindfold him, too - and it didn’t take long for the two of you to find and choose a favorite piece of material to use to block your vision; a strip of fabric from the shirt you’d worn on your second date - and the first night you’d gone to bed with him - that had *somehow* gotten torn.

After the Green, you’d been the one to suggest it again, after seeing - and feeling - that he was hesitant to truly let himself go with you. He’d been back in your life for a few weeks, both of his serious wounds well on their way to healing, and you’d been intimate a few times, but it wasn’t like it had been before - and you both knew it.

“Ezra?” You came out of your bedroom and down the stairs, calling out his name before you’d reached the bottom floor of the house. “How do you feel about staying in tonight? I can order dinner, and we can …” You paused in front of where he sat on the couch, gesturing with one hand. “Just relax. I know the last few weeks have been a lot for you.”

“I’d like that.” He tilted his head up and toward you, nodding. “What did you have in mind?” He watched as you moved to sit down next to him, and before he thought about it, reached for you with his right arm, swearing quietly as he corrected the action and tugged you onto his lap with his left. You eased against his body, careful not to knock into the still healing wound on his chest with your shoulder or elbow, and tucked your forehead in against his neck, arm disappearing behind his back and the other hand resting on his knee.

“I’m not sure. Whatever you want. That one place you liked? The one with the noodles? They closed. So I guess… anything but that?” He laughed, glancing down at the way you nestled even closer to him at the sound, breath hitting the skin at the base of his throat, where the collar of his shirt wasn’t covering it.

“It’s a very good thing I happen to be adaptable, then.” It was your turn to laugh, the sound more of a snort, and Ezra felt his chest grow tight - the feeling having nothing to do with the fresh scar tissue there. But neither of you made any move toward the kitchen, where a stack of menus sat in a drawer, or for your tablet, to place an order. I like this feeling. He closed his eyes, tightening his hold on your hip, and heard you clear your throat.

“Reach into my back pocket.” He paused, but did as you asked, you shifting to lift so that he could get his hand where you’d told him to. Sucking in a breath as his fingers closed around the familiar material, Ezra whispered your name. “Couldn’t get rid of it. Not even when I moved.” He lifted the length of blue fabric and held it up in front of your faces, the memories of using it with you flooding back. “I’m sure you haven’t thought of it in -”

“Years?” He kissed the top of your head, closing his eyes. “That is false.” He took a few seconds to consider his words, deciding to cut straight to the chase - for once. “You put a piece of it into my pack before I left, and that small square of fabric brought me comfort nearly the entire time I was on that Kevva-forsaken moon.” You said his name, sitting up and twisting to look at him, the man gesturing for you to take the blindfold from him. “I lost it when I was forced to abandon my pack during the altercation with my crew, and no matter how long I looked, I couldn’t find it.”

You winced at that, using both hands to twist the fabric, though your eyes were locked with his. “I’m sorry, Ezra.” Swallowing hard, you finally closed your eyes. “But there’s another reason I want to stay in tonight.” His heartbeat quickened, and though he knew it was coming, he was still surprised at your next words. “Blindfold me, Ezra. I know you’re still working through a lot, but maybe it -” “I can’t tie a knot anymore.” The words came out bitter, but you didn’t let him dwell on that, the blindfold dropping from your hands and into your lap, palms on his cheeks and forcing him to look at you again. “You can help me tie it, Ezra.” Leaning in, you pressed your forehead to his, breath catching. “Or we don’t have to use it, but I just thought … I see how you try to hide. You tell me not to look at you, and this way?” You kissed him gently, lips once again easily finding the scarred skin of his cheek, the familiarity of it striking him as much as it had each time you did it before - and then continued. “This way I can’t. You’ve got all the control, it’s all up to you.” Pulling back just enough, you met his eyes again, and he saw the anguish in yours, the desperation to help him. “It’s all up to you.”

“D’you still…” He swallowed, the words sticking in his throat. “Trust me, Starlight?” There wasn’t even a breath between his question and your response. “Always.”

For once, Ezra was unable to find the words to express his gratitude to you, but he also knew that you didn’t need to hear them - he’d seen it on your face at his reaction to your assertion, and you wouldn’t ever force him to speak it out loud. Another? Alright.

After the Green? Ezra develops an absolute love for sensation play. Since there was so little room or time for him to enjoy the feeling of anything that wasn’t his suit, his hands or the sparse amounts of water available on his skin for so long, every single thing that he feels - and enjoys - turns him on in the moment.

The feeling of your fingers against his skin, whether you’re warm or cold? The way the soft, silky material of your clothes slides over his back or chest before one of you removes it? The feeling of the grass, or the sand or even water - from a lake or an ocean, or the tub? The way the sunlight feels when it warms his skin or the cool breeze from the ventilation fans in your house? Every one of them is a new miracle to Ezra.

All of it is overwhelming to him, but he loves it. He even likes the slightly uncomfortable situations; the cramped backseat of your transport vehicle, the grittiness of the bricks that make up a building’s walls against his palm as he kisses you senseless outside of a restaurant that you go to to celebrate his birthday. Everything he feels now is making up for what he couldn’t feel then, and he won’t ever take any of it for granted.

But his absolute favorite thing was the way you tasted when he kissed you in the middle of dessert one night, a spoonful of ice cream melting against both of your tongues and dripping slowly over your lips. Ezra got used to being uncomfortably warm on the Green, and so he truly appreciates any excuse to be chilled - in any way … but especially when it involves your mouths and skin.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Ezra’s adventurous, and if you’re game for it, he’ll have you just about anywhere. The two of you like being outside, under the stars (which is where and how you got your nickname - more on that in a separate piece). He likes the way his skin looks against yours, likes the soft sounds of the grass and the wind, the sound of the crickets … he’s a very outdoorsy man, and even though you’re always somewhat worried that someone will stumble upon you, he’s very reassuring - and it doesn’t take long for your entire focus to be on him, no matter where the two of you are. Ezra is also partial to the two of you being inside, because it means that he can prolong things - slowly removing his clothes and yours, taking his time working you up - with words or his hands or his mouth or even just with a look. Floor, bed, couch, counter, shower … it doesn’t matter to him. Your safety and comfort are very important to him, and he knows that even though you like the fresh air, you’re much more likely to let yourself get lost in him and what you’re doing from the get-go if you’re inside and can lock a door.

Fact: After Ezra’s return to the Ephrate from Central after the Green, and after he’d been released from the second Med Center and cleared to begin a “normal” routine, the first place the two of you had sex was in your shower. (More on that in a separate piece, too)

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

This is a good question, and depending on the day you ask him, Ezra’s answers might be very different.

He’s turned on by touch - you squeezing his hand, putting your hand on his knee, running your fingers through his hair.

He’s turned on by the way you speak to people - confident, without talking down to others. He loves that you don’t need him to speak for you, but are absolutely willing to let him in some cases. He also likes the way you talk to him, never hesitating to make a joke, or say exactly what’s on your mind.

He knows that you still want to impress him, but aren’t focused on doing that every time you open your mouth.

Ezra loves when you listen to him, bringing up some obscure fact that he mentioned in passing weeks or months prior. He knows that it means that you’re truly paying attention to him, that you listen when he speaks, and that what he says is very important to you - like it is to him. He also likes it when you take the lead - not always in bed, but he likes when you’re the one that gets things started; slipping your hand beneath the waistband of his pants if you’re just lounging, kissing his jaw, or letting your lips linger on the tattoo on his hand and then pulling it toward your body in the middle of a conversation. There’s a lot that turns Ezra on, let’s be honest.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Ezra won’t hurt you. He hates indecisiveness. He hates being talked down to, or made to feel less than - but he also doesn’t like someone trying to talk him up beyond his actual capabilities, even if they mean well.

Ezra won’t go to bed with anyone after they’ve been drinking heavily - and that includes himself. He doesn’t drink much, but he’s not a big guy, so it doesn’t take much to make him tipsy - especially since his liquor of choice is whiskey, and he prefers dark, strong beer.

You learn very quickly that Ezra’s not the type of man to take someone out and feed them drinks to speed along the process. Yes, you drink together, but even when it leads to you in bed, it doesn’t progress past wandering hands and kisses - at least until you’ve both sobered up. He also will not discuss his sex life in detail with anyone. Vague responses, yes. But the first time someone made a comment about the two of you that he didn’t like… you didn’t think you’d ever seen someone go so still. Ezra’s a gentleman, through and though, and even though he’s had to make a lot of difficult decisions and experienced lot of difficult situations in his life, he won’t compromise when it comes to the woman he’s with (you) and their reputation or honor. It’s old fashioned, but it’s one of the many things that you love about him.

It wasn’t something that the two of you did before the Green, but when he comes back, Ezra makes it very clear that he’s not interested at all in breath play of any kind. He knows what it’s like to feel like he can’t breathe; oxygen available but not flowing into his lungs, and has no interest in ever reliving that situation in his life, or encouraging it for someone else, even only briefly.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

A man of very simple tastes, if you want him in your mouth, he won’t ever tell you no. For a lot of men, receiving this type of attention is a chance to zone out, only focusing on how good it feels… but not for Ezra. He pays attention to everything, no matter what it is you’re doing - the way your lips feel, what you’re doing with your tongue, the way your hands clutch at his thighs or his ass, whether or not you’re paying attention to all of him, or only the tip … every single second of it is pleasure to Ezra, but it’s only because of the person giving it to him.

He’s had some pretty underwhelming blowjobs in his time, and even worse sex, so finding out that you wouldn’t be lumped into either of those categories was a very welcome revelation. When you’re going down on him, he likes either using it as an opportunity to finish in your mouth - only with your permission - or at the very last second, pulling out and finishing in you.

However. As much as he likes being on the receiving end, Ezra is very, very giving.

That tongue of his isn’t only good for speaking, and even though it took you some time to feel comfortable enough to let him go down on you, once you had, you never turned him down again. Like with everything else, Ezra takes the time to do it right. And even though you can’t explain it, the fact that he pauses long enough to check in with you, making sure that you like what he’s doing doesn’t take you out of the moment in the way that it would with anyone else. He’s not trying to inflate his own ego, and doesn’t need constant reassurance - he’s legitimately trying to figure out what he’s doing right - and what he can do better next time.

As the two of you got to know each other more and you realized how competitive he was (More on that in the Wild Card section), you bet him that he couldn’t get you off in under five minutes with his mouth - which, to be honest, wouldn’t have upset you much, even if he’d lost the bet. Ezra did it in less than three, with the use of two fingers and a side-to-side movement with his tongue that you were not expecting. Even though it felt incredible, you made him promise not to make that his go to, because… well.

“Don’t you worry, Starlight. I was just proving a point.” He sat up, using one thumb to wipe at his lips, an eyebrow raised. “You underestimate my usual restraint when it comes to your pleasure.” You couldn’t help it; leaning forward and grabbing a handful of his hair, pulling him close enough to press your lips to his, the action surprising him. “No, Ezra. I know better than to ever do that. I just know how much you like a challenge.”

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He isn’t overly rough, but he doesn’t treat you like you’re made of glass, either. Ezra knows what you can handle, and while he won’t give you more than that, he likes to push limits - and so do you. You always know when he’s got something on his mind and how it’s impacting him by the way he is in bed with you.

Hard and fast = and something’s bothering him.

Slower and focused = You’ve got his full attention. You can always coax him into a different pace, but as the two of you got closer, you didn’t need to as much. It only takes a few words, a hand gliding across his back or a palm against his cheek, and you’ve got his attention. The times you have to pull him out of his thoughts, you know that the after will likely include him filling you in on whatever’s bugging him, but as you remind him all the time, that’s what you’re there for - and you have no problem with that. You want it from him.

But the one thing to remember: Ezra’s always thorough. Always. He takes his responsibilities very seriously when it comes to the way he is in bed, and even if he’s not being serious, he will absolutely not let you leave the bed (or the couch, or the blanket or the shower) unless he knows that you’re well-fucked and completely taken care of.

He’s a gentleman like that.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Ezra will have you anywhere, and at any time that you allow him to do so.

Before, he prefers to take his time with you, making sure that both of you enjoy every second, but neither of you are strangers to being in a rush - between classes, before work or an event, that one time at your parents’ house before your birthday dinner … He’s an opportunist, and you love him for it, because when he gets that look in his eye, you know you’re going to like what’s coming.

After? He means to go slow, but in the weeks that follow his arrival back to the Ephrate, it’s fast more often than not. After so long apart, he can’t help it, and no matter how many times he tells himself he needs to slow down, tells you you need to slow down and just enjoy it, ease back into things, giving both of you time to readjust, it’s nearly impossible.

There’s also a short period of time where he tries to take things quickly with you, because he’s very self conscious about his arm - and he believes that forcing you to look at it is additional punishment on top of what he’s already put you through by disappearing for so long. Basically? He wants to get off, and get you off, but give you a quick out if you want it. (You do not.)

But no matter how many times Cee tells him that what happened on the Green to his chest and to his arm is just a part of life in the Fringe, and anyone that loves him won’t let it matter, it takes a long conversation late at night with you for it to really stick - and for him to go into more detail about what happened on the Green and what led to him losing that arm in the first place.

After that happens, he’s very excited to find that you initiate quickies often just to show him that it doesn’t matter how long it lasts, you’re just happy to be with him again.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Look at him and tell me that he doesn’t take risks - I dare you. Ezra’s life has been one risk after another. Leaving home - and a relatively lucrative career with his brother - to study. Making a home on a new planet. Falling in love with you. Leaving you to go to the Green? It’s all risky, and even though in many cases, the reward was worth it, he knows all too well what happens if he fails, even partially.

But when it comes to sex with Ezra, nearly everything’s on the table there, too.

It’s easier, before, to try new things and new places, to thoroughly take care of you, to make sure that you’re satisfied, and Ezra does that without hesitation whenever he possibly can.

After? After he’s lost an arm, after he’s spent years on the Green with no one and nothing but the people he could never fully trust? Risk to him means something different. He indulges your whims - and some of his own, but there’s always a pause, always a moment of hesitation where he weighs options in a way that he didn’t ever before.

Before, a calculated risk to Ezra meant making sure that neither of you would be caught … and now, it means ensuring that you won’t be hurt, even in simple, harmless situations. He knows it’s unnecessary - knows that he needs to shake it, but he can’t do that right away, and is very thankful that you’re willing to work through it with him.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

I said before that Ezra likes to prolong sex, and when both of you are in no hurry, it’s not uncommon to spend an hour wrapped up in each other. The entire time isn’t spent on the actual act of sex - both you and Ezra love foreplay, too. Teasing is important for both of you; getting right to the edge with hands or mouths and then pulling back - you know each other well, and you make the most of it.

Fun fact: Ezra was the first guy you’d been with that didn’t get outright offended when you didn’t get off during sex and he did. Instead of being upset, he looked at it as a challenge.

“You do understand that there are innumerable ways for me to make you come?” His voice quiet in the darkness had startled you, the feeling of him pulling out from between your legs making you let out a sound - a low whine that you barely recognized. “Let’s start trying to figure them all out.”

The weight of him disappeared from your body, and then before you could react, or tell him that it was fine, you felt his chin against your abdomen, the hair from his beard gently scratching along your skin, followed by his lips at your navel. He cleared his throat as you reached for him with one hand, fingers brushing against the tangled locks at the crown of his head, and then pressed another kiss to the inside of your thigh before he spoke again, amusement - and determination - in his voice, warm breath spreading out over your slick skin. “One.”

---

On a good night - and there are a lot of good nights - Ezra’s good for at least three rounds (with time between, of course) - but he always makes sure that you come at least once more than he does before he’s satisfied. This is unless, of course, you wear each other out to the point where you’re unable to do anything but fall asleep, and you almost like those times better, because you know that the next morning (or afternoon, or whenever it is that you come to) you’ll be woken up by Ezra’s low voice in your ear, hand (or hands, prior to the Green) roaming your body.

For whatever reason, whenever you and Ezra have slow, sleepy sex, neither of you last as long, and both of you have no idea why. (But neither of you will ever complain, and it’s your favorite way to start the day.)

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

You had a small collection before you met him, something that you were very open to sharing with him. They were holiday gifts from your friends, favors from bachelorette parties - typical for someone your age. And you’d used them, especially in the times between relationships, when it was simpler to pick one than find someone short term. The men you’d been with previously had liked bringing them into bed with you, too, because it meant that they could pause and just watch you, but Ezra?

It is a personal mission of his to make sure that you do not ever *need* to turn to something else when he’s in bed with you. If you really wanted to use one of them, he wouldn’t outright tell you no (and this happens after he comes home - which, at first seems unreasonable to him, until you explain it in a way that doesn’t make him feel like less of a man) but before?

The first time you opened the small box, Ezra sucked in a breath that turned into a low hum, both of his hands reaching for yours and squeezing. “Your very own treasure chest, hmm?” Even in the low light, you saw the gleam in his eyes, the smirk on his face. “These are what you like?” You hadn’t known it at the time, but he wasn’t making fun of you, instead wanting to get an idea of what he could expect in the future. “These are what you need?”

Staying silent, you eyed him, listening to the change in the tone of his voice, his accent becoming thicker. “They’re just options, Ezra.” Barely above a whisper, you finally spoke as he kissed your jaw, his eyelashes fluttering against your cheek when he closed his eyes. “I -” He pushed you backwards, and just as smoothly as the man had entered your life in the first place, he was hovering over your body, using both hands to pin your wrists, knees bent on either side of your hips. “Ezra.”

He smiled, waiting an extra breath and then spoke again, slowly bringing his face back toward yours and his lips to your ear. “I have learned in my lifetime that anything worth doing well is worth doing by hand.” He kissed you then, teeth grazing your earlobe as you arched your back beneath him, your fingers closing into fists - even though you didn’t try to pull your wrists free. “But.” His lips moved down your neck and then over your throat, his name spilling from your mouth before you could stop it. “Talk to me, Starlight. Tell me what -”

“Don’t need them, Ezra.” You were struggling at that point, just to give yourself something to do, shoulders pushed back and into the mattress as you moved beneath him, your breath coming out in short spurts though he’d barely touched you. “They’re just…” You moaned as you felt him bite down on your collarbone, and then he let you go, moving his hands to the pillows, yours going to his face and pulling it back up. His gaze was calm, but you could feel that it was just cover; the man waiting for your response. Shaking your head back and forth slowly, you locked eyes with him, using one fingertip to trace over the curved scar on his cheek. “For when you’re not around.”

He groaned, bending his arms and letting his weight settle against you; the length of him pressed along the inside of your thigh the best - and only - reminder that you needed that when Ezra was there, the warmth of him was all you needed.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Ezra’s a damn tease, especially in the bedroom, but you know that whenever he gets going, the payout is well worth it. He never denies you anything, unless there’s a reason. He never outright ignores you - or what you want or need … but he doesn’t always make it easy. And that’s another one of the things that you love about him. Ezra’s caring and considerate, but he’s set in his ways. He’s very particular about the way he carries himself, and the beliefs he has, which makes a lot of others question him. But when they really get to know him, they understand that how he is is a big part of what he is, and he’s a welcome change from the people that you grew up with, from the people that you’d been around for long stretches of your life.

For Ezra, it’s all about the build up. The two of you went to bed together for the first time with very little hesitation - it wasn’t the first date… but it also didn’t take until the third. So, after that, both of you decided that it would be fun to get to know each other by seeing how far you could go riling each other up.

It usually starts when you’re nowhere near a private area. Ezra loves just barely touching you - his fingers brushing against your arm, a slight push on your back, the nail of his thumb dragging over your palm … it all drives you wild, and he knows it.

When you first started seeing each other exclusively, you were both still taking classes - and had very different schedules… let’s just say that the biggest tease of all was the way he kissed you before saying goodbye in the morning, or before going your separate ways after meeting for lunch. They were just kisses, yes, but they were also an indication of what you had waiting at the end of the day and behind closed doors. He didn’t even have to say anything (although he often did); all it took was that kiss and one look - a wink, the slight twitch of his lips, the appearance of that dimple in his cheek - and he was all you could think about for the rest of the day.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Ezra is a talker - before and after the Green. However, for the most part, when he’s in bed, he’s content to rein it in and let you be the one to speak.

But when he does get caught up in the moment, when he does let himself go, it pushes you over the edge too quickly for you to even think about it much. It’s not that he says filthy things, but the way he speaks? He could be talking about the weather, and as long as he’s murmuring into your ear, his beard rubbing against your cheek, hands roaming your body? It doesn’t matter.

It never mattered, and he knows it.

Ezra’s vocabulary is much larger than anyone else you’ve ever met, and even though there was a short period of time where it was almost too much for you because you thought it was an act, you quickly realized that he didn’t speak just to speak - it isn’t because he likes hearing himself talk, even though that’s what so many other people believe about him.

Hearing the man speak - and speak to you in the way that he does, praising you, giving you directions, begging you - dreaming about it was enough to get you through the years he was missing. Countless nights, you woke up to an empty and silent room, straining your ears to catch the fading remnants of your dreams - his voice filling the dark corners, spreading through the spaces between the sheets. When that happened, you wondered if the same ever happened to him - on the Green Moon, surrounded by strangers.

Hearing it again for the first time? It didn’t matter that you were both fully clothed and flanked by other people - it brought every memory of him back all at once, and if you thought that you had to contain yourself from lunging at him, it’s nothing compared to what Ezra felt.

That first night back with you? After the first time you said his name, you didn’t get another word in.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Ezra is competitive. You knew it from the get go - watched the way that his eyes would take on that distinctive gleam when he was interested in making a wager with someone, or when he put his mind to doing something that he said he was going to do. You knew that when he was younger, he’d been competitive with his brother - both at home and on jobs - and his uncle, though that was more just because Ezra liked proving people wrong - and surprising them. He’s not scrawny now (at least not after a few months of recovery from the Green), but he was a scrawny teenager with some hidden arm strength, and he ended up surprising everyone more than a few times when it came to being able to hoist himself up and onto ledges, or to lift stones, wooden beams, machinery etc.

But when it comes to being competitive with you, things like proving you wrong about how long it’ll take him to get you off, how well he can read people, or just the way that it seems like he can guess your thoughts sometimes? You don’t understand it fully, and you wouldn’t ever bet against him in a public way because he’s right more often than not … but privately? You goad him on, and he knows it, but he’s more than happy to play the game, because it’s fun for him - and for you.

There are things he won’t ever be able to beat you in, just because you were raised differently and had more leisure time and exposure to things than him - but both of you know your limits, though he’s much more willing to test them than you. Ezra’s greatest challenge for himself when it comes to you is finding ways to surprise you. This is true before, during and after his time on the Green - and you don’t know it until much later on, but Ezra truly played the long game when it counted most.

When it comes to being competitive, and testing limits, Ezra’s very careful to never let you put yourself in harm’s way. This probably sounds stupid - you don’t need a man to look out for you like that, you’re perfectly capable of setting your own limits and knowing when you’re approaching them - but with Ezra, the idea of turning things into a game ends as soon as he begins to worry.

You thought it was unnecessary at first, but as you got to know him, you began to understand that like so many things pertaining to the man, this was just another Ezra quirk; he was a lot of things - many of them you wouldn’t learn until well into your relationship, and even more that you wouldn’t learn until after his time on the Green - but at his core, Ezra was a gentleman. Especially when it came to you, and the other people that he loves: like Cee.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

So, earlier I said that Ezra sees himself as “average” - and that applies to his body type, too. He’s an average height. He’s of an average build with arms that are slightly stronger than they look, due to years of hard, physical work both on and off planet. He’s never been what women would call muscular, but he takes care of himself - when he can. Admittedly, on the Green, things changed quite a bit about his build; he lost weight due to a very limited diet, his posture changed slightly due to the weight of the suit and the pack he carried for so long. His face hollowed out a little - everywhere except his cheeks.

The hair on his body is dark - like most of the hair on his head, but that’s the only place it’s thick. Arms and legs - average to below average amount of hair, no chest hair to speak of - all of that smooth, golden skin on display for you to look at and touch whenever given the opportunity.

He had scars before the Green - sure. The one on his face, small ones on his forearms, even a few on his back, each of them healed to a various shade of silvery white, skin stippled and raised -standing out. But when he came home, there was another large scar added to the fray, one that he was very candid about. Roughly two and a half inches in length and one wide, Ezra walked you through the second wound from the Green that had almost killed him; Cee’s quick thinking stabilizing the punctured flesh just long enough to get them back to a qualified medical facility on a starship, then to the real Med Center on Central where they fully scraped it clean, and then by the time he was back on the Ephrate, the wound had begun to fully heal, though it would never be gone. It was large, and it was present, but it still wasn’t enough to distract you from the coarse, dark trail of hair that began a few inches to the right of it just beneath his navel, extending downward and past the waistband of his pants. That stayed the same, and though you’d made a joke the first time you’d seen it, remarking that you’d thought it would be blonde, too, fingers trailing through it as he laid in your bed, shirt off and belt unbuckled, pants pushed down just enough, there was nothing to joke about when it came to where it led. If you asked Ezra, his averageness extended below the belt, too, and while it was true that there wasn’t anything significantly exaggerated - one way or another - when it came to what he had to offer, you wouldn’t have described it as average. It was just Ezra, the same way you came to know every other part of him; inch by inch, the smooth length fitting well against your palm and between your curved fingers; the head slipping past your lips for the first time and settling heavily against your tongue.

What was so special about Ezra wasn’t his physical attributes, though you reminded him often of how handsome you thought he was - both verbally and based on the way you touched him - if he behaved like he couldn’t get enough of you and your body, you responded in kind, never holding back when it came to indulging in his form, or in the things you loved about him. (And let me be clear - you love everything about him physically, and wouldn’t want him to change a thing, both before and after the Green.)

It was the way he presented himself, the way he utilized what he had been given. He never outright apologized for what he presumed to lack, but the way he moved - the way he held your body against his; the practiced movement of his hips and hands, the controlled thrusts that never failed to drive you wild - was all the proof you needed that Ezra wasn’t a man that felt he could rely on his looks or a woman being overwhelmed by what she was presented with. He’d accepted what he had to offer the world, and made it work for him.

It made you respect him more.

In your opinion, Ezra drew the attention of everyone that laid eyes on him, but he never let that kernel of truth sink in and take root, and despite the way he presented himself - confident, competent, unconcerned - he had plenty of insecurities.

In an attempt to make him laugh one night after his return to you, when you were talking about your pasts - prior partners and failed relationships, the years you’d spent apart, how you’d kept busy - Ezra’s mood soured, and you could tell by the look in his eyes that he was going to default to downplaying his worth and place in your life. Instead of letting him sink, you looked him dead in the eyes and told him exactly what you thought of him - reminding him of something he’d said to you early on in your relationship about how he approached life.

“It’s not about the size of the gun, Ezra. It’s all about how you use it, right?” You could have been talking about anything - His remaining arm, the scars, his trauma, his experience, his build, his upbringing - but in that moment, you were talking about him, and everything he meant to you. “I’ve never been disappointed in that.” He was silent, which you weren’t surprised by, and instead of pulling back from him, you leaned in, your fingers combing through his hair, his head turned toward you on the pillow, deep brown eyes wide. “And I never will be.”

Everything that Ezra was - you readily accepted, especially physically - and you knew that sometimes, he just needed to hear it again.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He’s got a high sex drive, but isn’t all that motivates him. Throughout his prospecting (and mining, and exploration, and educational) careers, he got used to not having sex for months (years) at a time. And it sucked, but that was the life he chose. So when he was on-planet, he made the most of his time and the people that he was with.

For Ezra, sex isn’t just about the physical aspect of things - it’s the lead up and the follow through. It’s the whole process, and it’s what it means. Not that all sex for him is meaningful in the same way - but no matter who he’s with, he gets something out of it, even if it’s only a memory, or a release or a way to pass a night or two.

But when he comes back home, and realizes that he’s got the option to be with you again? That you still want him as much as he wants you - as he always wanted you? He’s insatiable, even though he’s very hesitant to just pick up where you left off.

The two of you had a lot of time to make up for, and even though you needed to take things slowly - he was still healing, after all - he couldn’t keep his hands off of you. You took time off of work so that you could spend it with him and Cee, getting to know her (and Ezra, all over again), and it was almost painful for him to have to wait to be alone with you until Cee was sleeping or in school, or he’d been cleared by the medical team, or until he’d found it in himself to begin telling you about his time on the Green. Since it meant, though, that he was back with you? He was willing to wait as long as it took. … just not very patiently. (But that’s fine, you were just as anxious to have him in your bed again as he was to get there.)

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Ezra tends to relax very quickly when he’s spent, but that doesn’t mean that he goes to sleep right away. You might not move a lot, but there are nights where you spend hours together in bed, quietly talking or just touching each other, both of you unwilling to let your eyes close. It’s another challenge for him; keeping the two of you talking, even if they’re only quiet words, murmurs and half sentences.

This is especially true right before he leaves; you know why he’s going, what he hopes to prove, and even though deep down, you know he knows that it’s just as unnecessary as you’ve told him it is, you also know that you won’t deter him from the decision he’s made. So you both force yourselves to stay awake as long as possible, filling yourselves with each other for as long as possible. Yes, there are nights when you do fall asleep immediately - you can’t help it - but that’s not the norm. Just like with any other topic, Ezra craves knowledge about you, and knows that the minutes you spend next to him after you’ve finished with each other tend to lead to you be more open, more honest - more candid - and he takes advantage of them; soaking everything he can get of you up.

The sheets and pillowcases smell like the two of you, and your skin is damp, slick with sweat, but he’s focused on you, making the most of every moment, because he knows that like with everything in life, there are a finite number of these, and he doesn’t intend to waste them. (You’re the same with him, and if you didn’t have a grasp on just how deeply you loved him, it would have concerned you to be so wrapped up in someone else that you’d willingly lose hours of sleep over them.)

---

Tag list: (If you want to be added, please let me know!) @the-blind-assassin-12 @pheedraws @alraedesigns @jynrumbly

150 notes · View notes

wouldpollyapprove · 5 years ago

Text

Child’s Play

Summary: She will only ever be seen as a child in Tommy’s eyes. That’s what she gets for being Finn’s friend. No matter, her feelings for the man refuse to fade. Finn tried to help her, tried to get something out of his brother, but the man was unbreakable. Y/n decides that maybe it’s time to move and the best way to do that is to avoid him. If she can’t see him then he can’t bother her, right? Wrong. You can’t avoid Thomas Shelby.

Request: Helloo can i request an imagine where the reader is way younger than tommy(maybe around finn's age or between him or john)works for him and has a major crush on him but she's vv insecure bc of her age, grace has already died, and because it's very hard to figure out if tommy likes her or not, so she gets sad bc she really wants to be with him and have children other than his own

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Lanuage, age gap

A/N: I’m pretty happy with how this turned out. Sure, it didn’t turn out exactly how I wanted it to, but it’s pretty good either way. Oneshot requests are still closed and I wish you guys would respect that. It’s not all of you, just some. I want to have all my oneshot requests done before I open requests back up and I can’t do that if people keep sending them in.

Masterlist

Life was hard.

That was a common fact that everyone knew. Y/n didn’t believe herself to be any the wiser for knowing that one simple thing. It just made life easier to deal with. When the market was out of apples or her seamstress ruined her favorite dress, she simply remembered that life is hard. That meant that not everything was supposed to go her way. She didn’t fret over anything, knowing it wasn’t worth it. Life was hard and if it was meant to happen then it would happen.

However, she was young and naive, and those words didn’t always mean as much as they should have.

Her life became extremely hard when she started working for Thomas Shelby. Y/n had been a friend of his youngest brother’s, Finn, since they were children. The two would often be found creating havoc throughout the streets of Small Heath along with the other children they’d befriended. Y/n never spent much time at the Shebly household, though. Her mother always wanted her home in time for supper with enough time to get chores done before the table was set.

Finn and Y/n were close, not as close as Finn and Isiah were, but they were close nonetheless. And Finn cared enough to get her a job at his family’s company when she was old enough. It was a sweet offer that she couldn’t pass up. Her parents didn’t bring in much money and what was brought in her father usually spent on beer. So with shaking hands, she entered Thomas Shelby’s office and accepted the job.

She wasn’t given an easy job, being one of Tommy’s secretaries, but not for the reason she would have thought.

“Don’t tell me it’s still bothering you,” Finn rolled his eyes, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. The two sat across from each other in his family’s private room at the Garrison. It was one of Y/n’s days off and it had been a slow day for Finn so he decided the two needed a drink. Being early in the day, just around noon, the pub was empty except for them.

Y/n leaned back in her chair, a sigh escaping her lips. “Yeah, I mean I see him every day. What am I supposed to do, forget about him?”

Her friend nodded and handed her a drink.

She scoffed, taking the drink. Looking down at the amber liquid, she said, “You just don’t get it, Finn. I know I don’t stand a chance. Fuck, every woman in fucking Small Heath has fallen for your brother. I’m not special and I know that, but that doesn’t change how I feel.”

“God, you really like him, don’t you?” he shook his head, a smile on his lips.

Y/n nodded, taking a sip of her drink. She hated how she felt. She had always been an emotional person. Not everything made her cry, but it wasn’t hard to have tears prick her eyes. She hated being confronted or yelled at because the tears always showed up and didn’t know when to take their leave. And that didn’t change when she started to feel something towards her employer. Those feelings were always present and could never leave her alone. Y/n tried her best to keep it from interfering with her work, but it was hard when the man was always around her.

Y/n hated that she loved, not liked, Thomas Shelby.

“Yeah, I do,” she mumbled more to herself than Finn.

At first, she hadn’t even realized she was falling for the man. But over time, Finn started to notice something was off. He had known her long enough to know when something was wrong and something was definitely wrong. Y/n would have thought that he would be upset with her for liking his brother, but he simply laughed. Honestly, if she was in his position, she would have to. Since then, Finn went out of his way to tease her about it.

“I could probably talk to him for you,” Finn offered, giving her a small encouraging smile.

Y/n shook her head. “I don’t need you to do that, Finn. It’s my problem, not yours.” There was a short pause while she sipped at her whiskey. “I can barely talk to him on my own, it wouldn’t be worth having you do anything.”

He laughed, “Did you ever think that it’s him and not you? Tommy is shit at communicating with people, doesn’t matter who it is. And have you seen the way he looks at you?”

“He has only ever seen me as a child,” she scoffed. “And he lets me know every day.”

“You know he’s not good with feelings, right?”

Y/n rolled her eyes. Sometimes she wished she was as distant when it came to emotions as the man she loved. It would probably make life miserable, but not as miserable as she was at the moment. “What about Grace, uh? He still loves her. And what about Charlie? Tommy seems to be content with what he has.”

Finn leaned forward, looking his friend dead in the eye. “Grace was everything he was looking for in a woman, but that doesn’t make it love. She betrayed him and didn’t do much for Tommy but give him a son. That’s it. He’s moved on.” He shifted in his seat. “Tommy deserves someone real and Charlie deserves a mother. I hate to say this, but I hope it’d be you. You care a lot about Tommy and his wellbeing and if he can’t see that then fuck him.”

Maybe that was true, maybe it wasn’t. Y/n had no clue, but she hoped that there was truth to what Finn had said. She hoped that something would happen. It was stupid, she felt like a school girl all over again, waiting for her crush to make a move. She just hoped that there was some truth to those words, maybe then she stood a chance.

*~~*~~*

A few days later, Finn had found himself over at Tommy’s house, helping him look over plans for a new stable. John and Arthur were supposed to be there, but they both had family matters to deal with. It didn’t matter, though, as the work was small and gave more time for drinking.

Sitting in one of the house’s many sitting rooms, Finn leaned back in his chair while he watched his brother fetch a bottle of whiskey. The conversation he’d had with Y/n days earlier was still at the front of his mind. He felt bad for her, for the position she was stuck in. Finn knew all too well how hard it was to fall for someone and he remembered Y/n telling him almost the same thing he had told her the other day. He wanted to do something for her, help her out any way he could, but what was he to do? There was little that could be done when it came to his cold, distant brother. Few could get through to him and even fewer could read what he was thinking. But Finn was certain of one thing, the way Tommy looked at Y/n. It was more loving than how he had once looked at Grace. It wasn’t lust, it was love. It was more than just one emotion. It was happiness, love, lust. Anything that sparked joy, that is what his eyes showed when he looked at Y/n. Finn knew his brother felt something for his friend and he was going to get him to admit it.

Tommy reappeared with a full bottle of whiskey and poured himself and his brother a glass. He handed one to Finn before taking a seat across from him. “Are you ready to go to the races?”

Finn looked over at him and shrugged. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been before. “I suppose.”

“There shouldn’t be any problems this time,” his brother commented. Mentioning the races gave the youngest Shelby an idea. “Could Y/n come then?”

Tommy raised a brow, sipping at his drink. “Why?” his voice was flat, not exposing anything.

“Why not? She’s never been and if it’s supposed to be calm then I don’t see why not,” he explained.

“No.”

Finn frowned and rolled his eyes. “Come on Tommy, why?”

The older brother sighed in frustration. “Because she’s never been and she would just be a distraction for you. Y/n’s practically a child as it is, she’d just get in the way.”

“She the same age as I am! Why can I go but she can’t?”

“Because this is family business and you’re family!” Tommy almost shouted at him. “Y/n probably wouldn’t want to be around a bunch of Peaky Blinders as it is.”

A laugh escaped the younger brother’s lips causing Tommy to frown and set his glass down. “Are you blind or something?” Finn asked, laughing. “Are you? Do you not see that she likes you? It’s very fucking obvious! The fucking king would even notice! Not to mention, you seem to feel the same way. So, why don’t you invite her and make a date out of it?”

Tommy rolled his eyes and decided to stare out the window. He was silent for a long while, Finn sitting restless opposite of him. “She’ll get over it. They always do.”

Finn sighed in defeat. He wasn’t quite sure what he was trying to accomplish but it wasn’t going to happen. Nothing was going to happen. Thomas Shelby was a brick wall, that was how Finn could best describe him. A brick wall that nothing could penetrate. You could throw things over it, but more often than not, everyone fell short.

Now, what was he going to tell Y/n? He tried, he really did, but there was no breaking Thomas Shelby. He was a selfish bastard that only cared about his own wellbeing. Sure, he’d tell people everything he did was for them, but it was nothing but a lie. He only ever cared about himself.

*~~*~~*

It had been a few weeks since Finn and Y/n had talked in the Garrison and things with Tommy hadn’t improved at all. In fact, they had somehow gotten worse. She wasn’t sure what had happened, but the man was more distant than normal. But only towards her. He never called her into his office to go over paperwork like he used to, instead asking for Lizzie. And he did his best to keep her out of things. Everything she used to be a part of, she was shut out of.

Y/n tired to think nothing of it at first. Tommy was a strange man and his mood changed with the wind. It wasn’t worth it to read into anything. But then there came a point when she had enough and wanted nothing more than to confront Tommy. She told Finn about it but he simply told her to leave it alone, that it wasn’t worth bringing up to his brother, so she didn’t.

Instead, with all the newfound time on her hands, she was given time to rethink her life. She no longer wanted to be hung up on a man who would never love her back. Why waste her time when there were plenty of men who wanted her? Y/n laughed thinking about all the times she had refused men’s advances because she thought that Tommy would come around. Foolish. Fucking stupid. She was wasting her life and she just couldn’t do that any longer.

So, she wasn’t going to.

Y/n then started to go on dates, they were boring, but it was better than sitting at home, feeling sorry for herself. Some of them worked in the factories, covering dust, and others were businessmen that wanted nothing to do with Small Heath. It was too poor for them, too dirty, too this, too that. It always made her wonder why they wanted anything to do with her as she was a great example of what came from Small Heath. No matter how many dates she went on, though, she found nothing she liked. But she just had to wait it out, the right one would come.

She was only 19, she had time to find someone and settle down. But there was only one man she wanted to do that with.

In the back of her mind, she still had feelings for Tommy, but if she never spoke of them, then she believed they weren’t real. He no longer caused her problems and was only apart of her work life. And as Tommy started to distance himself from her in the office, she decided to do the same. It would help her move on because being hung up on that man would be the death of her if she didn’t.

Putting her finished paperwork in a file, Y/n placed it in a bin on her desk for Tommy to look at later. She stood from her chair, placing a few files on Lizzie’s desk for her to go over the next day and started to clean her own. The door to Tommy’s office opened, but she didn’t hear it close, telling her he was lurking in the doorway, something he was known to do.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he stated.

Y/n shrugged, not bothering to look up at him. “Only because you have.”

He was silent for a second, searching his pockets for his pack of cigarettes. Once found, he dragged it between his lips before placing it between them and liting a match. “It’s nothing personal, Y/n. Just business.”

She scoffed, searching for her bracelet that had fallen off earlier in the day. She thought it landed in one of her drawers, but they were both empty. “Oh, yeah, I figured,” she spat. “Everythings always about business to you.”

Try as he might, Tommy couldn’t fool her. Y/n knew what it was like to not be welcome. To be pushed away. Most of her life, her father wanted nothing to do with her and he often did what Tommy was doing now. Without saying anything, he would just leave her out of things and when she was in the room, he would keep her out of the conversation. The girl was used to it at home, but she didn’t like the treatment at work. And not from someone she cared about.

“I’m glad you understand.”

Y/n rolled her eyes and finally looked up at him. “You’re glad I understand? Understand what? That you’re a fucking arsehole? Yeah, I’m glad I understand that.”

“Y/n I-” he was cut off before he could say anything more.

“I’ve been avoiding you because you’ve been avoiding me. And I know Finn talked to you, I’m not stupid and that boy is shit at keeping secrets! So, how about you just tell me how you feel instead of keeping me from my work? I’d rather know the truth than be treated like shit!”

Tommy didn’t say anything, he just stood there, blank face and all. It was hard to read him, but Y/n didn’t even bother, if he couldn’t give her an answer then she wanted nothing to do with him.

“Forget it,” she mumbled and grabbed her coat off the hook. Shrugging it on, she headed for the door, leaving Tommy standing in the doorway of his office.

The man let out a sigh once he saw her slip out the office door. Pushing himself off the door, he went after her. He didn’t know what he was going to say as he wasn’t good at expressing his emotions, but he couldn’t let her leave like that. He’d seen what pushing her away had done, Y/n was miserable yet she pretended to be cheerful and happy. It broke his heart that he had caused that and Finn made sure he knew it.

“Y/n wait,” he jogged after her once on the street.

She sighed, turning around as he came to a stop. “What now? You want to tell me it’s childish to be upset over this? That it’s just fucking life? What Tommy?”

He shook his head. “No, no. None of that. I just…” He let out a sigh. This was one conversation he should have thought through first. “I like you I do. Fuck, I might even love you, but I can’t risk it. Not with what happened to Grace, not with what’s happened to everyone around me. I can’t do that to you.”

“You can’t do that, but you forget it’s not just your choice. Everyone in your life has chosen to be there no matter what happens,” she told him, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m Finn’s friend, I work for you, so no matter what I’m at risk. So don’t give me that bullshit.”

“I don’t want to lose you, Y/n,” he sighed, a look of defeat in his eyes. “I would rather see you sitting at your desk, alive, then dying in my arms somewhere down the road.”

Y/n laughed, giving him a small smile. Tommy raised a brow at the action, unsure what caused such a reaction. “Life happens, Tommy. We can’t predict it and we can rarely change it. It’s not worth fretting over especially when you’re not in control. But I know how I feel,” she told him. “I love you and I’ve tried not to, but it doesn’t work like that. I love you, Tommy, and I could see a life with you, but if you can’t see that then fine. Just tell me and you never have to hear about it again.”

Tommy took a drag of his cigarette, processing her words. He looked around, distracting himself with the people on the street. Was he ready to risk it? Was he ready to willingly put his heart on his sleeve for a woman again? He wanted a life with Y/n, she was smart, beautiful, and caring. Tommy could honestly see himself with her and maybe down the road, they would have a few kids. “Come one.”

He tugged on her arm and started walking away. Y/n quickly fell in step beside him. Looking over at him, she asked, “Where are we going?”

“To dinner and I promise I’ll stop pushing you away if you do the same.”

A smile lite up Y/n’s face. She honestly didn’t think she’d get through to him, but the man was full of surprises. She knew that it would take Tommy time to adjust to being in a relationship, she understood that, but she was willing to wait.

*~~*~~*

Let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list.

@amirahiddleston @captivatedbycillianmurphy @haphazardhufflepuff @woahitslucyylu

#the peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinder fanfic #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagines #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shleby imagines #tommy shelby #tommy shelby headcanon #tommy shelby x reader #tom shelby #tom shelby imagine #tom shelby imagines #tom shelby x reader

1K notes · View notes

iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years ago

Text

Deserving Better

Request: Can i request a Sirius Black x Reader ANGST fic, where Sirius and y/n are in a relationship (post-hogwarts like 4-5 years, they're 22/23 now and have their own jobs and places) and their relationship isn't like it once was, it's become toxic. He basically became too comfortable and started taking her for granted. He ignores her, flirts w other girls, basically just treats her like shit and refuses to acknowledge what he does wrong. You can decide the ending but major angst please 🥺 Ty! - @maradeuwu

A/N: I’ll be honest, I didn't know how to approach this, I’ve never written any major angst whatsoever so I can only hope I did okay and did your request justice. Flashback in bold. I’m pretty nervous about it, I don't know how its going to read at all. I spun it in a way that was empowering for the reader at the end. You’d have thought I’d have listened to angsty music through this - nope, Boyzone and Westlife.

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

Warnings: toxic relationship, swearing, negative thoughts, mentions of emotional cheating, mentions of alcohol. Please don't read if this will trigger anything.

Word count: 1.8k

It had been a long day. It seemed that no matter what you did, the day was not going to end. It had been one of those days where all you wanted to do was fall into Sirius’ arms and have him kiss away all your worries. But something had changed in your relationship with Sirius and it wasn’t good. It was the kind of issue that left a pit of dread and worry eating away at your stomach and had doubt niggling away at the back of your mind.

You tried to ignore that little voice in the back of your mind that was suggesting that Sirius had found somewhere else to lay his affections, but at the end of the day, the evidence was there.

He had become withdrawn; wasn’t an open with his day anymore. He was waving you off more, refusing to spend time together. And any time spent together, he was either late to or when he did show, paying little attention to you. It usually ended with you going back to your own flat.

You bit your lip.

Sirius didn’t care anymore; he simply didn’t care enough. But the hope inside you fed into your theory that it was something he was going through, something he would share with you when he was ready. The logical side of you, however, knew that something else was going on and did its best to smother the little flame of hope before it could turn into an inferno.

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

The pub down the road from your flat always had your favourite wine in stock. It was where you always agreed to meet your friend, Clare. Clare was your dearest friend, having been so from your days at Hogwarts. It was to Clare that you could tell all your worries to.

Clare is already waiting when you enter the pub; two glasses of wine on the table. She was a saviour, you thought as you took off your coat.

She stands, kissing your cheek as you do the same. Pleasantries are exchanged quickly as if the two of you don’t speak multiple times a week.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I think something is wrong with Sirius.” You say, looking into the glass in your hand – wishing for more alcohol.

Clare scoffs, “What isn’t wrong with him?”

You stare at her, “What?”

“You need to leave Sirius.”

You freeze. Clare had always been blunt – to the point where it could hurt but she meant with your best intentions in mind.

“I’ve wanted to say something for ages. Honey, your relationship isn’t healthy. He flirts with other women in front of you! When we’ve had dinner, he ignores you or belittles you. It’s not on. You shouldn’t be accepting that in a relationship.”

It’s as if a bucket of cold water has been poured over you, and every starts to slip into place. Clare’s words forcing you to accept the realisation you had already come to.

You think back to an incident not even a month ago:

***********************************************

You silently seethed as the waitress came over to your table for the fourth time in an hour. You paint a smile on your face as you tell her, “He’ll be here any moment, I’m sure of it.”

She nods at you, her facial expression turning from professional to pitying in one smooth move.

“Truly. He’ll be here in a min – Oh! Here he is now.” You shout, pointing to where Sirius had sauntered in.

He lazily makes his way towards the table, winking at the waitress as he drapes his coat across the back of his chair.

A blush covers the waitress face as she stutters through her greeting. You feel the familiar tendrils of rage making their way through your body before settling deep in your gut.

Sirius looks at you, the picture of innocence. As if he hasn’t left you waiting for an hour. “What will you be having, dear?”

That’s all – no apology, no grovelling, no kiss on the cheek, no excuse.

You don’t look at the waitress as you order, keeping your eyes on Sirius.

Sirius, on the other hand, can’t look away from the waitress as he orders. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he purrs as the waitress takes your menus.

You take a sip of the water in front of you; deciding against the wine early on. Sirius takes a sip of the amber liquid he had become so fond of.

“What’s the excuse this time?” You ask.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t belittle me. Why were you late Sirius? Why did you leave me waiting an hour?”

“Let’s not do this here.”

“Stop deflecting. Why were you late?”

He shrugs, “I just was.”

You snort into your glass, “If that’s how you’re going to play it.”

The dinner is eaten in a frosty silence; the gap that had been slowly growing between the two of you suddenly felt like a gaping void and you didn’t know how to make it across in one piece – you didn’t know if you wanted to make it across.

*************************************************************

You remember thinking that evening that a relationship shouldn’t be this much work; that it should be on equal footing with effort coming from both parties. You remembered how you forgave him on the way back to his flat as he pressed open mouthed kisses to your shoulder, your neck – apology kisses, he called them. You remembered sitting awake in his living room as you came to the realisation that something was wrong in your relationship with Sirius. You remembered the feeling that cut deep within your chest as your heart broke in two.

You turn to Clare, whispering, “Something isn’t right, and it hasn’t been for a long time.”

Clare shakes her head, her expression full of sympathy, “I’m sorry, honey. I know how much you love him. You have since you were 15.”

“I have. I’ve loved him since I was 15 years old, and I know he loved me in the beginning. I wonder where it went wrong…”

Clare points her finger at you, stating firmly, “You better not believe it was something you did.”

“I could have put more effort in, Clare.”

“But so could he. And are you the one flirting with other women?”

You shake your head; you had always been faithful to Sirius. He was the only man you had ever been with.

“Exactly. Honey, it isn’t healthy.”

You nod, knowing that the relationship was coming to an end.

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

You take a deep breath when you reach his flat, steeling yourself for the conversation you had been rehearsing in your head the moment you had left Clare at the pub with a kiss to her cheek and a promise of phone call later.

Entering the flat, you find Sirius sitting in the living room, flicking through one of his many books. He doesn’t even look up as you enter the room, simply continuing to read.

And its then that you realise how badly you’ve been treated for a long time, and you had let him get away with it. He would always distract you with his lips, his hands, his words. Anything to deflect your attention from the issue at the hand – your relationship.

Anger swells within you; at him and at yourself. How you had let yourself be treated like shit for so long. You had given him your heart and he had stomped all over it.

“I’m leaving you.” You announce. Simply, clearly – so he doesn’t misunderstand.

“What?” He asks, not looking up. His voice airy, as if he didn’t even hear you.

“I’m leaving you. I don’t want to be in a relationship with you anymore.”

“What? Why?” Sirius finally looks up, takes in your stance, your angry face and connects the dots. His relationship with you was ending.

“Why!?” You shout. “You treat me like dirt – you ignore me, you belittle me. You flirt with other women when I’m right there. Would you like me to go on or have you heard enough?”

He shakes his head, as if he doesn’t accept the words coming out of your mouth.

“I am done. We are done.” You declare.

“But you love me.” Sirius states, as if it’s the plainest thing in the world, as if its enough to repair a relationship this broken.

You laugh, “I did once. I would have done anything for you, and you knew that, and you took advantage of it. Sirius, I don’t think you love me anymore and I won’t beg for it.”

His mouth opens and shuts a few times, struggling for the words he wants to say.

“Don’t. Don’t hurt yourself further. I’m just here to grab my things and I’m gone.”

You leave Sirius standing in the living room, looking whiplashed. He hadn’t expected this; he never expected this. He didn’t realise how badly he had been treating you – sure, he had been late for a few dates and always flirted a little with the waitresses, but he never thought he was neglecting you. He didn’t want you to leave. He’s loved you since he was fifteen years old. You couldn’t leave him.

You grab one of the overnight bags you had left here, throwing it onto the bed as you gather your belongings from the drawers and bathroom.

Sirius follows you into the bedroom, watching in disbelief as you pack your things. “Don’t leave me,” he pleads. His mind has gone into overdrive at the sight of you packing your clothes… packing everything. You were washing your hands of him and he didn’t know what to do. He was panicking; he wanted you to stay with him.

“Why shouldn’t I? Sirius you have given me no reason to stay.”

“I’ll do better, I’ll be better.” He promises emptily, his voice shaking.

“You know, I bet you would for the first month or so. You would do better but then the minute you aren’t scared of me leaving, you’ll fall back into your old habits.”

“I won’t, I promise. I’ll do better, I’ll show up on time for dates, I’ll stop flirting with waitresses. I don’t know what else you want me to do.”

“That isn’t good enough, Sirius. Your words aren’t good enough anymore. The damage is done and I have to protect my heart.” You shout, hauling your overnight bag from the bed, stalking to the front door.

Sirius follows your every step, pleading and begging you every step for you not to leave him. It’s been you and him for so long, for so so long. What would he do without you? You’re his everything.

“Who’s going to love you as much I do?” He spits, in an attempt to hurt you deeply. He knew he was being nasty; he didn’t quite believe it himself as the words left his mouth but as he watched you open his front door; he knew that you’d do just fine without him. It would be him to be the one to suffer.

You turn to him, your hand on the door handle, “I am, Sirius.”

You leave, shutting the door behind you. No looking back.

*******

Harry Potter (general) taglist: @obsessedwithrandomthings @kalimagik @the-hufflefluffwriter @summer-writes @lupins-sweater

Sirius Black taglist: @cheapglitter @fific7

#sirius black x reader #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black fanfic #Sirius Black #Sirius orion black #siriusblack #sirius x reader #sirius x you #sirius x y/n #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #My writing #sirius black angst #sirius angst #angst

373 notes · View notes

thejolexgroupchat · 4 years ago

Text

the one where they met in med school - part twenty-two

siblings and paper rings

Hello everyone!! Thanks so much for all of your support for this fic. We hope you enjoy this next section!

(March 2009)

———

"Alex!" Meredith screeched as she met him in the hallway. "Alex! Answer your damn phone. I've been trying to call you for the past hour. Why weren't you answering my calls?"

"Sorry, Jo and I were in an on-call room, ya know," Alex smirked, a smug glint in his eye.

"Ew, gross," Meredith made a face. "I did not need to know that."

"Well, aren't you happy that I didn't answer your calls while we were—"

"No, no, I'm going to stop you right there because I don't want to hear about the dirty, jailhouse hooker things that you and Jo do in the dark corners of the hospital," Meredith shuddered. "Anyway, that's not what I wanted to talk about?”

“What did you want to talk about?” Alex exhaled impatiently.

“I wanted to talk about why your brother showed up at my house this morning while I was in the shower,” Meredith whisper-yelled. “Why didn’t I know you have a brother? And why doesn’t he know where you live?”

“Crap,” Alex paused in the middle of the hallway. “What’s he doing here?”

“I don’t know, but I told him I’d bring him here with me to see you, so he’s hanging out in the lounge right now,” Meredith answered.

The pair walked down to the residents’ lounge quickly. When Alex entered, he saw his brother standing there, talking to Izzie, Lexie, Jackson and Cristina.

“Alex is the oldest, then me, and then Amber,” Aaron took a bite out of the granola bar in his hand. “Amber’s graduating from St. Savior’s in May. She’s… she’s smart like Alex. She could go to college if she wanted to, but she’s like “what’s the point?” you know?” And I don’t know what to tell her. Alex is the doctor in the family. I just move people for a living.”

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Alex chuckled lightly, startling Aaron, whose face lit up upon hearing Alex’s voice.

“Alex!” Aaron grinned and pulled his older brother into a tight hug. “Man you got old.”

“Dude, uh, what are you doing here?” Alex asked again.

“I had to drive to Portland on a job, and since Portland is in the neighborhood...” Aaron shrugged.

“Well, Portland is not in the neighborhood,” Alex shook his head, an amused smile on his face.

“It’s three hours,” Aaron waved dismissively. “I can do three hours in my sleep.”

“Alex, he’s your brother. He’s allowed to come say hi,” Lexie rolled her eyes.

“I’m overdue for a visit,” Aaron explained. “It’s been almost five and a half years.”

“No it has not,” Alex made a face.

“Since you’ve been home?” Aaron raised his eyebrows. “Five and a half years.”

“You haven’t been home in five years?” Izzie gasped.

“Has it been five years?” Meredith looked at Alex expectantly.

“Amber was twelve the last time we saw you. It was that Christmas when you brought Jo home for the first time and mom walked in on you guys having sex because you’d just gotten together the night before,” Aaron chuckled at the memory.

“Glad to see some things never change,” Cristina muttered under her breath. “We walk in on them on a weekly basis around here. They've been going at it like rabbits for the past few weeks.”

“We were not having sex,” Alex protested. “We were… kissing that’s all.”

“Oh yes, kissing with no clothes on. Definitely not having sex,” Aaron quipped sarcastically, garnering a few chuckles from the residents in the room. “Where is Jo by the way? Doesn’t she work here with you?”

“Aaron?”

“Speak of the devil,” Jackson nudged Lexie as Jo stood in the doorway of the lounge.

“Jo?”

“Ah! Aaron?” Jo rushed over and embraced him enthusiastically. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe it!” Jo pulled away to get a good look at Aaron. “Look at you. You’re all grown up.”

“Grown up enough to get you to leave my brother for me?” Aaron joked.

“Yikes, I hate to break it to you, but there’s only one Karev that holds the number one spot in my heart,” Jo paused for dramatic effect. “Amber.”

“Shut up,” Alex laughed at his girlfriend. “I think my mom would agree too. I think all of us would agree.”

“He’s right,” Aaron nodded, a smile on his face.

“So, what’s going on?” Jo asked. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but, why are you here?”

“Well, I missed you guys,” Aaron tilted his head. “But since you guys are doctors, I thought I’d ask…” Aaron lifted up his shirt. “Should I be worried about this?”

***

When he woke up that morning, Alex did not think he’d be spending the first part of his day trying to locate Dr. Bailey in order to beg her to perform his brother’s umbilical hernia repair pro bono. But there he found himself filling out his brother’s paperwork as Aaron roamed the halls in a hospital gown saying God knows what to all of his coworkers. By the time Alex found Aaron again, he was sitting at a chair behind the nurses station, staring at the scans the Jo had pulled up.

“And that right there is a kidney,” Jo pointed at the screen.

“No way,” Aaron’s lips curved up slightly. “That’s so cool. Sometimes I wish I would’ve gone to school or training of some sort. I’ve always thought that I could’ve been a good firefighter.”

“You’ve still got plenty of time,” Jo encouraged. “You’re young and can do whatever you want.”

“I guess you’re right,” Aaron nodded. “I gotta live through this surgery first.”

“It’s a simple procedure,” Alex explained as he came up beside them. “Dr. Bailey is one of the best and she’s done this countless times. You’re going to be fine.”

“Alright, well I’ve got to go,” Jo straightened and placed a small kiss on Alex’s cheek. “I’m in the pit today with Hunt. Love you!”

“Love you, too,” Alex replied watching as Jo walked away.

“You look stupid,” Aaron made fun of his older brother who glared at him. “I’m serious. You’re watching her walk away like you’re never going to see her again.”

“Shut up,” Alex rolled his eyes. “Let’s get you to your room.”

“Why aren’t you guys, you know, married yet?” Aaron asked when they finally got back to his hospital room.

“Because we’re not,” Alex replied simply.

“That’s not an answer,” Aaron sat down on the bed. “I’m serious. Why haven’t you married her? You guys have been together for over five years. What are you doing? Is this it? Is this all you have to give of yourself?”

“Of course not,” Alex sighed. “Look, we haven’t really told anyone this, but we’re kind of trying for a baby.”

“You’re trying for a what, now?” Aaron’s eyes bulged. “A baby? As in an actual child that’s half you, half her, that you would raise together?”

“Yeah,” Alex breathed out a shaky laugh. “Yeah we are… well, weren’t not exactly trying, just not... preventing anything.”

“That’s great man. I’m happy for you two. I’m glad that you feel ready to take that step,” Aaron patted Alex's shoulder. “That still doesn’t explain why you haven’t popped the question yet. Grandma Lois would kill you if she found out that you were trying to knock your girl up before marrying her.”

“I think I’m going to propose soon. I need to get a ring though, and it has to be perfect… I want to give her everything. She deserves that,” Alex stated quietly.

“You may want to give her everything, but honestly? I don’t think she wants everything,” Aaron looked up at his older brother’s puzzled face. “I think she just wants you. And to be married to you and have kids with you. You’re all she wants and all she really needs. I know you aren’t used to that because of the way we grew up, but Alex, you’re going to keep making excuses for why you can’t propose for the rest of your life as long as you keep thinking that she deserves better than what you can give her.”

“When did you get so smart?” Alex narrowed his eyes. “I swear, the last time I saw you, the only thing on your mind was football and sex.”

“I grew up,” Aaron shrugged, a dimpled smile donning his cheeks. “Just ask her to marry you already. If you want, I’ll go with you to look at rings as soon as they clear me after surgery.”

“I’d like that,” Alex grinned, leaning forward to ruffle Aaron’s hair. “You’re going places, kid.”

***

Two Weeks Later

“Did you hear Nurse Jen got engaged last weekend? She came back from skiing with a massive rock on her hand.”

“Really? That’s like the sixth one in the past two months,” Cristina’s voice was annoyed, Meredith chuckling at her. “I only know because they always make a big deal out of their gloves ripping on the flashy rings their spoiled rich boy fiancé’s buy them.”

Alex rolled his eyes as he shrugged out of his scrub top and grabbed his shirt from his locker. He was used to the pointless gossip the three girls swapped in the locker room, their voices and laughter always echoing out louder than anything else happening in the room.

“Maybe the next one won’t be a nurse but one of our very own residents,” Meredith chucked her scarf at Alex, making him toss the fabric back and stare down the three women with a disgruntled stare. “Don’t give me that look, I think it’s about time you manned up and popped the question to Jo! I mean it feels like just yesterday we were calling her Dracula and now she’s kicking ass and taking names.”

“She’s got a point, Evil Spawn, pretty soon she’s gonna get tired of your shit and realize she’s way too good for you,” Alex met Cristina with a glare, the dark haired woman winking at him in return. “Seriously though, why’re you dragging your feet?”

“Shut up,” Alex grunted, trying to push the conversation aside.

“C'mon, Alex, you guys have been together for a million years and you haven’t even thought about marrying her,” Izzie threw her hands up in exasperation as Cristina and Meredith nodded their heads in agreement. “I'd be getting impatient if I were her. Me and George weren’t even together when we got married. But we loved each other and that was enough. Especially since life is short and you never know how much time you have left.”

“If it’s the commitment you’re afraid of, that’s okay. We’re all messed up and have problems with that, but I have to agree with them, Alex. Time is ticking,” Meredith said, folding her clothes and putting them in the locker. “And if it’s the wedding you’re worried about, you can always borrow my post-it notes.” She chuckled, making the other girls join her in a laughing fit.

“Leave me alone, all three of you. I have thought about marrying her, I’m aware that she could do much better, and I’m not afraid of commitment or the wedding part. I actually want to have a giant wedding, for your information,” Alex scowled before allowing his face to soften a bit. “And I don’t owe you any explanation because this is none of your business, but…” he rummaged around his locker and pulled out a tiny box that made all the women gasp giddily. “I’ve had to keep it here for the past week because she’d find it in the loft, but I’m proposing. Tonight.” He smiled, sitting down and showing them the ring.

“Oh crap!” Cristina’s eyes widened. “You bought an actual diamond engagement ring.”

“No I’m proposing with a paper ring,” Alex deadpanned. “Of course I bought a ring.”

“Alex, this ring is beautiful,” Izzie fawned over it.

“Really? You think she’ll like it?” He looked at it one more time before turning his gaze to the trio standing right behind him.

“I think she’ll love it,” Meredith said.

“Good. All those options at the store made me anxious. I never thought I’d ever go ring shopping, so I’m still a bit insecure about my choice, but I hope you’re right. I hope she loves it,” Alex let out a nervous breath, closing the little box again and putting it back in the back of his locker.

“Dude, grow a pair,” Cristina teased him.

“Shut up,” Alex rolled his eyes, making them laugh as they made their way out of the room.

“Don’t worry, Evil Spawn. Dracula is gonna love it. You did a great job,” Cristina patted his back with a smile on her face as they parted ways.

What did you think of this chapter of the med school fic? Are you just as excited as we are? Let us know what you think in the comments!

40 notes · View notes

jawritter · 4 years ago

Text

His Old Ghost

Created For: @spndarkbingo

Summary: Some things from the past just never really want to let go, do they?

Square Field: Mobster AU

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x John Winchester

Word Count: 1672

Warnings: Heavy Trigger warning!! Suicidal!Dean, heavy suicidal ideals and implications as well as prompts, control, manipulation, talk of death past and present, depression, language, angst, I think that’s it. Sorry if I missed something.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons! <3

A/N: As always please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! This is the last fic for this Bingo! Hope you all enjoy!

**Masterlist** ~ **Become A Patreon**

The deep amber brown liquid swirled easily around the tumblr that Dean held tightly in his grip. His gaze was fixed on large rain drops falling against the window that was behind his desk, blurring the lights of the city that seemed to sit miles below his penthouse office on the 51st floor.

Below him were thousands of people, young and old, going about their daily lives, only worried about their own little bubble of problems. Most of them were unable to even see past the cell phone that seemed to captivate their attention as they moved about amongst each other.

With a disgusted snarl on his lips, Dean lifted the tumbler, and downed it in one pull. The burn of the alcohol has stopped affecting him a long time ago. Now it was the only warmth he felt..

“Those people, they’re ungrateful for what we do son,” John’s voice sounded from somewhere in the back corner of the room.

Dean had known he was standing there watching him. When you have lived many years with people trying to kill you, tend to heighten your senses in a way you couldn’t turn off.

“Get out of my head old man,�� Dean’s voice drew out unamused. “I couldn’t give a fuck what they want or don’t want, see or don’t see. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Dean could hear John moving closer to the desk, and the wood creaking attop it, as the smell of cigar that seemed to constantly linger around his father, misted with just a hint of some expensive Italian cologne and whiskey let Dean know he’d perched himself on the corner of the desk.

“If it weren’t for us, half of this city would be in ruin. Their businesses would be shut down, their schools and churches would be sitting empty, and they wouldn't even have a roof over most of their heads. Still, look at them down there, walking around without a care in the world, and you’re telling me that doesn’t bother you? Not in the least?”

In truth, it didn’t bother him. He wasn’t mad that most of them were ungrateful, and lived in blissful ignorance.In fact, he envied them. He wished he could walk around in the same happy little bubble they walked and lived in everyday, not knowing what really went on behind closed doors, or the sacrifices other people made at their expense. “It’s just good business,” or so his father always said. Dean was starting to beg to differ.

He hadn’t known when he’d take over his father’s ‘family business’ it would come with so much pain, and heartache or so much death. Now here he was, The Godfather, as it were, but it wasn’t anything like it was in the movies. No, it was darker, and colder, and lonely as the grave he’d seem to keep lowering his friends into.

He thought he could have it all when he was younger. He thought that he could have it all, ruling the city on his throne of control as the people moved about like his little pawns in a game of chess only he could master. He was wrong. So very fucking wrong, and now? Well, now he was just left with the ghost of the past.

“It doesn’t bother me,” Dean said with a slight shrug of his broad shoulders. John’s dark chuckle sounded from behind him as he got up and moved closer to the window, putting a hand on the cold glass as he watched the rain slip down the pane, determined to ignore the old demon that seemed to come and visit him after every failed job.

“Sure is a long way down isn’t?” John’s voice said from directly next to him now, as if he was looking down at the city below him just as Dean was now. “You know, it wouldn’t be hard right? The fall? In fact, it would almost be peaceful. Hell, they say by the time you hit the ground from this height your heart’s already stopped anyway, and you're dead before you even hit the ground. It’s as easy as falling asleep.”

Dean’s jaw clenched as he closed his eyes and fought against the thoughts that were clouding his judgement. “Fuck off,” he growled, but John just laughed in earnest, sending a familiar shiver down Dean’s spine.

“Come Dean, what do you really have to live for anyway?” John taunted, walking around him like a lion stalking down his prey, getting ready to land the deadly pounce that would ultimately destroy the poor, worthless beast that was weaker than he.

“She will never love you Dean, you know that right? First time shit goes sideways, she’s gonna do the same as every other bitch you have ever used to get your dick wet. She’s just there for the money you hand her, and you know it.”

John’s hot breath blew against the back of his neck as the next passing words were made in a whisper against his sweat damp skin.

“But, you had to fuck around and get feelings, didn’t you boy?”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Dean roared, but it only seemed to edge on his torturer even more.

“No! Feelings make you weak, make you vulnerable!” John’s voice sounded louder than his own, and Dean flinched as if he’d raised his hand and struck him.

“I shouldn’t be surprised, you always were too weak. You and your feelings were the reason I’m dead today Dean. Sam would have made a better leader. He was smarter, stronger. You were never even able to protect him.That’s why you let him go off to Stanford, isn’t it Dean, because he’d be safer out of the life.”

Dean’s fist pounded against the glass in a hollow thud, and he gritted his teeth almost painfully, “Sammy deserved better than this. He deserved to get out.”

“Is that what Benny deserved today Dean? Was that round through the heart his way of ‘getting out of the life’.He’s in the ground right now because you sent him on that delivery Dean, he’s dead because of you.”

“I said, fuck off!” Dean growled, but to no avail.

“Do Y/N a favor. Open the drawer where you keep that 45, and end it. A simple shot to the temple and it’s done. She’ll be free of the coward that she’s tided too.”

Dean’s eyes shot to the small drawer at the bottom of his desk, and his pulse quickened.

“That’s it son, do it, end it.” John's voice growled deep in his ear, as one large tear rolled down Dean’s face.

His legs felt weak. His breath was coming in short spurts as a grip tightened around his pounding heart, like a vise in his chest. John’s voice repeated, growing in his ear to “end it, do it now.” the same tone he’d used his whole life to order him around, and Dean had never been able to disobey an order.

Maybe his dad’s ghost was right, and was weak. Maybe you would be better if he just ended it, took the cowards way out of this shit show, and let you move on. He’d make sure to leave you enough money to live comfortably for the rest of your life.You’d be better off if he were dead.

Before he could even move from his spot against the window, two hands, much smaller than the ones that felt as if they were gripping his throat, slipped around his chest, and your scent seemed to push through the fog of self hate and regret that was weighing on him from years past.

“Dean, baby breath, it’s okay,” your voice soothed over him, and he turned to lean into your embrace, thankful that you had come in just in time to once again chase the old ghost away.

“I know, it’s just one of those nights,” Dean murmured into your hair, letting the scent of his favorite shampoo that you always used calm his racing pulse.

“It wasn’t your fault baby. I can see you literally blaming yourself. Benny knew the risk of what he was going to do, he knew that it could go the way it went. You couldn’t have stopped it if you wanted to,” you try to sooth him.

Dean’s eyes flickered to the corner of the room, where a pair of glowing yellow eyes shone like cat eyes in a dark alley, and his father’s face disappeared into the darkness. He was never gone forever. He was always there, always lurking, always haunting, taunting him.

“Come on handsome, let’s get some sleep,” you tell him, grabbing his hand, and leading him from the dark, cold office to the master bedroom were you could keep an eye on him, keep him close to you, and help fight off the old ghost of his past that never seemed to want to let go.

Tonight he’d win against them again, but there would always be a battle, always a struggle with demons that had their hooks in him so deep, that one day they’d drive them to his grave. Tonight though, he’d hide in the safety of your arms, and your warm embrace to get up and do it all over again tomorrow. Until one day, by an enemy or by his own hand, he’d be lowered into the ground, and with a hero’s funeral to cover up a black soul that had more blood on his hands than the devil himself.

As long as he had you, and as long as you were here, he could find his resting place here. This was as close to heaven as he’d ever get, and when he’d died, and they covered him in gold, he’d be able to say he had you, for just a little while. For just a little while, he got to see heaven, and it was all because of you. His hiding place. His sanctuary. A place where his ghost couldn’t find him.

Forever Tags: @deanwanddamons @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester @idksupernatural @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl @love-jackles-37-blog @miraclesoflove @Waywardsistershy @emoryhemsworth @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel @softsebastian @tatted-trina6 @deanmonandnegansbitch @hayleeharling @flamencodiva @coldmuffinbanditshoe @bxbyizzy @dirty-pan-goblin @itmejado @supernatural3002 @teresa-67 @thoughts-and-funnies @hearteyes-j2 @miss-nerd95

90 notes · View notes

vixenpen · 4 years ago

Text

Neighbors (Hawks x Miku x Bakugo)

Pt. 14 Love is Over

Miku’s cheeks burned as she stared down into her glass of water; a bashful little smile tugging at her lips.

In her periphery, Keigo’s elbow was propped on the table, chin resting on his fist as he gazed at her.

Miku’s white curls were pulled up and away from her face to show off wide eyes. Her dark skin was dusted in sparkling Swarovski rhinestones that formed a pattern down her neck. It matched the filmy silver gown that showed off the dark curves underneath in a way that was enticing without being vulgar. Everything was tied together by her silver shimmer dusted wings.

She was a real life Angel. And, God, was he lucky.

“Stop it.” He commanded softly.

“You’ve been staring at me all night,” Miku cut her eyes at him, playfully, “and you’re telling me to stop it?” She quipped back. “What am I doing?”

“Distracting everyone with your beauty,” he shot back with a grin. “Namely me. I damn near missed my queue to give my speech earlier.”

“I can’t help it.” She gave a teasing little pout.

Keigo smiled, brushing his fingers along Miku’s jawline. A coo bubbled up out of the woman and she felt her cheeks flush.

He chuckled. “Don’t be ashamed, Angel.” He tilted her face towards him, gently; amber eyes taking on a sly gleam. “Brings back good memories.”

“Keigo,” Miku waved his hand away, “not here.” She mumbled through her teeth. Her gaze flickered to the camera wielding paparazzi and news crews covering the event.

The blonde threw up his hands in a surrendering gesture.

“Alright, alright. I’m still your dirty little secret. I get it.”

“No, it’s not that!” Miku protested. “It’s just that-“

“Babe, you don’t have to explain,” Keigo replied, jerking his head towards the paparazzi with a grimace. “The vultures are pecking for a story. We won’t give ‘em anything else to talk about tonight. I promise.”

Before she could reply, one of the back stage crew members approached the table. It was time for her set.

Miku turned back to her date and touched his shoulder. “I have to go on. I’ll be back.”

He nodded in response.

Miku headed for the wings of the stage as quickly as her heels would allow, turning heads along the way.

She knew exactly what everyone was thinking. The whispers around Katsuki’s affair. The speculation that she was the one who had leaked the tapes. The disbelief that she was even performing -tonight.

She held her head high, and put on her best camera ready smile. Nobody was going to see her sweat or see her pain.

Once Miku was on stage, the crowd blurred into one faceless mass as they always did. The spotlight overwhelmed her. The band struck up a soft, jazzy tune for her to introduce herself to.

“How’s everyone doing tonight?”

Polite applause.

“I’m sorry, are y’all not heroes? I said; how’s everyone doing tonight?”

Cheers.

“Thank you!” She shot back at the audience with a bright smile. “You know, as we usher in a new age of heroes, I really wanted to do something different. Something new in honor of such a monumental night, so tonight I—“

The words withered on her tongue when she met the familiar pair of crimson eyes staring back at her from the crowd.

Shit.

Miku’s heart plummeted. She hadn’t planned on seeing Katsuki there. Her team had assured her he likely wouldn’t show up until the end, if at all. Yet there he was at the back of the ballroom, staring straight at her.

Miku wet her lips before finding her train of thought again.

“But on second thought, I think I’d like to do a classic in honor of this decades long tradition.”

She turned to the confused faces of her band and mouthed the queue to start up her song.

The spotlight followed her to the edge of the stage, and Her somber gaze cut through the audience; finding Katsuki.

Love is over, "immature mistakes"

I say laughing because the time has come

Love is over, you're a man who doesn't cry

Forget me soon.

Love is over, I'm sad

I'll leave soon without turning back

Love is over,

I wish you well. But Love is over...

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

I’m sorry, Keigo. I know I said I’d be back soon...

Miku thought as she fled to the roof of the building.

She just needed a moment.

She hoped he would understand.

The air was chillier up on the roof and the breeze tickling her shoulders caused goosebumps to prickle along her exposed skin. She hugged herself, rubbing her arms to gain some warmth. Her wings closed in aroundn her—The supple feathers felt like a fluffy hug.

The tension had just started to melt from Miku’s shoulders when she felt the air change with another presence.

A tuxedo jacket got thrown over her shoulders. Warm and heavy. The smell of toasted caramel filled her nose and Miku absolutely hated the way it triggered something comforting and warm in her mind.

Katsuki sidled up next to her. Miku’s gaze remained on the star studded, inky blue sky

“I won’t forget you even if someone else is holding me.” His deep, gruff voice said. Unusually soft. “You skipped that verse.” He added.

Miku swallowed. “I had to move on to the next song,” she replied just as softly. “There was no need to...drag that one out.”

“Yeah...” he paused, tucking his hands in his pockets as he gazed up at the sky. “You sang that song the first time you performed here too.”

“You always said it was the song that made you fall in love with me.”

She heard the smirk in his voice as he replied: “It was. You sang it with such a sexy little attitude.”

Miku glanced over, noticing his sad smile.

“It’s funny,” he continued, “You didn’t have that same attitude this time.”

Miku huffed, an amused and tired little noise.

“Well, my perspective on the song has changed.”

Katsuki sighed deeply, nodding. “Mine too.”

They stood in the weight of their silence for a long while. The air felt heavy.

“I really do love you, Miku.”

“I know.”

“I am sorry.”

She nodded.

“I-I’m sorry I couldn’t give you...can’t-couldn’t...love you the way you needed. The way you deserved.”

Another nod.

“Dove.”

He turned to her. Miku faced him back, despite her heavy heart and shaky legs.

“I’ll miss you.”

Miku exhaled. She gazed at him for a long while and saw so many memories in his face that it made her head spin.

Katsuki’s large hands circled her waist—warm and strong and familiar—he pulled her close. He smelled sweet and spicy.

“I’ll miss you too, Katsu.” She breathed.

She meant it.

For all the headache and drama Katsuki brought; Miku would miss his passion and explosive love.

He leaned into her, and her heart hammered to a stop. Miku froze as he closed the distance between them, but her body wasn’t completely unwilling...and she hated herself for that.

Soft lips brushed against her own.

Miku didn’t shy away from them right away. Instead, she let them press harder against hers. Reveling in the familiar, domineering way they moved against her mouth. Katsuki’s tongue snaked past her lips, tasting like champagne and mint. His hands slid further down her body. He wanted her. She could feel how much he wanted her.

Pulling away, Miku turned until her ex’s lips grazed her jaw.

Her eyes stung and the moon looked like a blurry silver puddle.

“Goodnight, Katsuki.” She whispered, but her voice was strong and steady.

Katsuki’s hands went slack on her waist before falling away. She caught the way his eyes flickered with dejection before he cleared his throat and stepped away from her.

“You should get back inside before you mess up your throat, silly Dov-girl. You know how you are with the cold.”

Miku shrugged off the jacket and offered it back to him, but he waved her off.

“I won’t need it anyway. I’m headed home.” He cracked a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Goodnight, Miku.”

With that, Bakugo turned on his heel and exited the roof, leaving Miku alone.

35 notes · View notes

mxpseudonym · 4 years ago

Text

Whose do you taste like?

A Mx.Original

Content Warnings: Sex.

A/N: Well, it’s queer from top to bottom hehehe and a little teaser. I think I just wanted to get this off my chest and get some feedback, ya know? I thought of a great story in the middle of writing this so more to come.

The sound of a firm hand striking exposed flesh bounced off the walls, followed by a muffled grunt.

Hanna wasn't usually this rough, Amber thought. But maybe she was biased. She was the one with her chest pressed against cold professor's desk, her blush pink skater skirt flipped over her waist, and her white sneakers nudged and kept shoulder-width apart by a stubborn knee. If that wasn't enough, her own cotton underwear had been ripped down her plump thighs and shoved between her lips, smudging her pink lipstick to quiet her.

"You're a little whore, you know that?" Hanna asked.

It was the first full sentence she'd uttered since meeting Amber in the hallway after her seminar and pulling her to the basement classroom that wouldn't see students until the fall semester. It had only been a couple of minutes, but the five spanks she received made it feel like forever.

Amber whimpered at the question. How could she respond? Was she supposed to? Even as a tear leaked down her cheek, she gathered the courage to look over her shoulder. Hanna looked a little smug and demanding. Her dark skin was smooth as usual, though her braids were pulled into a messy ponytail. Usually, there wasn't a hair out of place. Looking her over again, Amber realized that Hanna had volleyball practice after this, didn't she?

This. This? What was this?

They met a couple of weeks before the end of the spring semester. They locked eyes too many times to count as the night got boozier. Eventually, they found a corner, and Amber had too much time flustering the girl. She'd never ventured out of the late-night art studio sessions to watch any games, but she knew Hanna was the stern captain she'd heard about. Amber also knew by Hanna's modest bralette and sweats compared to her own teddy and the way Hanna bit her lip whenever she touched her arm that the captain just needed to relax.

A teammate in a crossfaded frenzy broke them apart before Amber could get more suggestive. However, they both stayed on campus that summer, which led to getting lunch together, then stumbling into Amber's room, then always meeting when the other texted. It was nothing serious. They could go days without speaking and, other than promising to get tested if they had other partners, there were no rules. They weren't dating, nothing close to it. So why?

Why was Hanna semi publicly ruining all hopes of Amber having better sex with anyone else any time soon?

"Have you always been such a slut?" Hanna asked, only to receive a sloppy whimper in reply. A wicked smirk flashed onto her face as she leaned forward, placing her palm down next to Amber's head. "What was that?"

"What's up with you?"

"Ha!" Hanna stood and walked around her slowly. "I came in here wanting to teach you a lesson about flirting with every goddamn person on campus. I saw you practically rubbing tits with that barista today. But here I am, giving you what you deserve and what do I find?"

Amber's eyes flashed in realization before fluttering closed as Hanna's hand slid between her thick thighs to find the answer to a question she didn't want to ask. They had a safe word, so why hadn't she said it yet? If there were panties there, they would have been soaked. Each slap made her jerk, grinding her nipples into the wood through her thin crop top and sending an extra wave of pain and pleasure to her core. Now Hanna ran a finger right over her pussy and found it shiny with the resulting wetness that was nearly dripping to the floor.

"Hanna," she whined something most pitiful.

Her middle finger met no resistance when it slid in, already feeling the tightening of velvet walls when Amber rocked back into her hand. She could never keep it together. It was moments like these, as Amber gripped the desk and pled for more, that she remembered Hanna was a setter. Volleyball setters, with their carefully manicured nails and cunning thoughts, were skilled with their fingers. Hanna handled her as well as one of those colorful balls.

She took her time to apply just enough pressure to make Amber squirm, but not nearly enough to give any relief. The speed, the perfect tension on the right spot, and the way Hanna always held down her wiggling hips were an unbelievable combination.

But it was also a weapon.

"No!" Amber gasped at the feeling of emptiness that even pushing her hips back couldn't solve. She looked over in time to see Hanna take her glistening fingers between her lips.

"You taste so good, Bambi, that I'll show you a little mercy," Hanna said while weaving her free hand into the other brunette's short bob. The firm tug to her hair only made Amber groan as she shifted up to rest on her elbows. "I want to hear you say it. I want to hear you tell me what you did."

"I got too close to the barista," Amber muttered between sniffles. That damned barista. Red-headed and stubborn and... not her type. No, Hanna was all wrong. But if her being wrong felt this good, Amber could take it a bit longer. Her teary, desperate eyes didn't hesitate to meet her pent-up captain's poised ones.

"You know why that's upsetting?"

"Mmhm," Amber nodded. Hanna leaned down and ran her tongue over Amber's trembling lips that parted immediately and let their eager tongues meet. Amber's hands gripped the sides of the desk tightly, and Hanna nearly lost her grip on her hair.

"Do you taste that?" Hanna panted, and Amber quickly nodded.

"I can taste myself."

"Who does this pussy belong to?"

A casual thing. Never discussed, only assumed that this was a fling. But the thought of more had passed through Amber's mind enough for her to answer without hesitation.

"You. It's yours, Hanna."

"What can you taste then?"

"Your pussy."

"That's right."

Hanna brought her fingers up to Amber's lips, and she took them immediately. She slurped them, swirling her tongue around even when Hanna pushed a bit too deep.

"I bet you think this makes you a good girl, but you look like such a fucking whore right now. I bet you'll beg for my fingers, too. "

It was a whirlwind of gritty pleasure. It only took entering with a third finger and a light brushing of Amber's clit for her to cum. But Hanna had never stopped at one, and she wouldn't start now, not when she had to make her partner remember just who she belonged to.

"Hanna," she whined, or she tried to anyway. All she could say was her name. All she could think was her name. She tensed and groaned and trembled around fingers and tongue. Hanna was always good, but was she this good? What the hell went on at that volleyball clinic?

Another slap to the ass sent her over again, though Hanna kept her suctioning lips and rigid tongue on her clit until she was losing her senses. Amber cried out, closing her thighs around Hanna's shoulders while her muscles tensed until she pressed her forehead into the desk in relief.

The room quieted, leaving just their panting and the distant sound of birds chirping outside of the small windows. Hanna stood from her kneeling position and began fussing over the exhausted art major. Amber wanted to laugh as Hanna avoided looking at her face while going as far as to adjust her tank top back into place, but she could only muster a satiated smile.

"Baby," Amber muttered while grabbing Hanna's face and making her look her in the eyes. "I was trying to get that barista to tell me what your coffee order was so I could get you something as a surprise. I really didn’t think you liked frapps so I thought she was lying."

Hanna grimaced hard and looked away.

"Shit. I've messed it up, right? That was so dumb I,"

"That was the hottest fucking thing that's ever happened to me," Amber cut her off. "Talk about a natural dom."

"St-stop it," Hanna stammered. Ah yes, she was back.

"How are you going to act shy when you practically just slapped me around and spit in my mouth?" She laughed and combed her fingers through her hair.

“Bambi, quit,” she snapped again, but let her smirk rise to her face. “Or else.”

#Mxpseudonym original content #Hanna x Amber #Also Bambi is such a cute nickname gtfo #Queer Smut #Original Writing #Queer Writing #Spicy Writing #I can't even tag this as erotica? wtf tumblr is wack

18 notes · View notes

slstmaraudersjple · 4 years ago

Text

Collateral Damage

Via Lottie (klarolineagainnaturally):

Random thought: I would have loved an in depth talk between Klaus and Caroline in which she talked about him biting her both times and then she went into all the trauma she had suffered from all the other shit people put her through and he would be just absolutely horrified and angry that someone would do those things to her but also horrified and angry at himself. TVD really just did not give two fucks about exploring the trauma in its female characters and it shows

A/N: I know, I know. I’ve got some prompt requests I’m still working through. But Lottie (@klarolineagainnaturally) wrote the above post and it WOULD NOT leave my head until I sat down and wrote it out. So here you go, darling! I hope you enjoy this! AU canon-divergent from TVD episode 4x13 Into the Wild, after Klaus bites Caroline. I’ve adapted the dialogue because I didn’t feel like going back to re-watch the scene.

Trigger warning(s): mentions and discussions of rape and torture.

Collateral Damage

“If you don’t heal me, I’m going to die.” Her voice is oddly calm despite the panic coursing through her veins.

He looks at her, regret briefly flickering through his eyes, and then he shrugs, turning away from her as he murmurs, “Then Tyler will have learned a lesson.”

Angry tears form at the corners of her eyes, hot and wet and heavy.

“Then you’re just like the rest of them,” she says bitterly, mimicking his tone. But she’s unable to help the emotion seeping into her voice as she lashes out, “You say you’re different, but in the end you’re all the same. None of you give a damn about me as long as you get what you want. None of you give a shit about who hurts me or what happens to me as long as you have your precious Elena.”

Then, she turns away from him, curling up on the couch.

“I’m not going to beg you for anything. But you’re going to get to watch me die, and I hope you’re happy with yourself.”

XXXXX

True to her word, she stays silent, and he’s left to ponder over her words. The accusation in her voice, the hurt that she can’t quite hide, and the implications of her words.

“You’re just like the rest of them.”

He thinks over everything he knows about the baby vampire that’s caught his interest. Truth be told, he didn’t do much research on her prior to coming to Mystic Falls. All he knew was that she was a baby vampire, a friend of the doppelganger, and dating the Lockwood boy. He doesn’t know what happened to her prior to her becoming a vampire.

“None of you give a damn about me as long as you get what you want.”

He is starting to believe that this was a slight error on his part. Klaus knows that many think of him as a monster of legends, but there are lines that even he draws. The wheels start to turn in his head as he thinks about the people she associates with. The doppelganger, the Bennett witch, the Lockwood boy, and… the Salvatore brothers.

“None of you give a shit about who hurts me or what happens to me.”

He pauses on the last. She seems rather friendly with all of them… save for Damon Salvatore. Even if it’s never been said, he has noticed Caroline’s silent disdain towards the older Salvatore.

Not to mention, the falling out she’s had with Tyler.

And then there’s the relationship (or rather, lack of) with her often-absent mother.

His conclusions lead him to believe that not just one terrible thing has happened to this baby vampire, but several. And they make him furious.

And after pondering on these possibilities, each scenario he envisions worse than the next, he finally pulls himself out of his thoughts and turns his attention back to the object of his affections.

“Just what,” he finally responds after a couple hours, “did you mean by that, sweetheart?”

She’s quiet in response, unmoving.

For a moment, he thinks that she’s going to continue to give him the cold shoulder.

But finally, she says, her voice so low that only his hybrid hearing picked it up, “Why do you care?” She sounds tired and weary, and he can’t quite help the wave of guilt that crashes into him.

He’s seen his fair share of victims. Normally, he’s fine leaving them up to their fate. Survival of the fittest and all. But there’s something so utterly vulnerable about Caroline Forbes in this moment.

And then she says, “I’m so tired of it all.”

Like she’s giving up.

It’s such a stark contrast to the feisty, intelligent, clever, beautiful baby vampire he’s come to known. And that, Klaus thinks, is unacceptable.

He meant every single word he said to her – she’s beautiful, intelligent, full of light. But obviously she’s experienced something terrible if she’s not scared of him the way others normally are.

And if he’s going to get some answers, he can’t have her dying on him, now can he?

His mind made up, he strides forward, unaware of his own eyes flashing amber as he forcefully turns her over to face him. Caroline is far too pale for his liking, unresponsive to his touch. Without hesitation, he rips his fangs into his wrist, making sure his blood is running before pressing it to her lips.

He doesn’t let go until she’s drinking, and as he watches the color return to her cheeks, the thought occurs to him that she’s the only one he’s saved. And not just once, but twice.

Klaus would not consider himself a patient man, but he still gives the baby vampire a moment of grace to recollect herself before he sits back, letting the full weight of his gaze fall on her.

“Now,” he says, his voice booking no room for argument, “let’s chat, shall we?”

XXXXX

Caroline frowns. “Why do you care?”

“Humor me.” He says.

It’s the wrong response, because she shakes her head, scoffing as she turns away from him.

“I could compel you,” he says carefully, watching her face for her response.

And just as he suspects, she flinches, seeming to curl into herself as she presses against the couch. “Don’t you dare,” she snarls, not quite able to hide her growing fear.

“I won’t have to if you tell me,” he responds.

Caroline eyes him suspiciously, looking towards him but directly meeting his gaze. Clever girl, he thinks fondly.

But he braces himself, trying to keep the expression on his face calm as he prepares for he response.

The baby vampire seems to contemplate his words for a moment, deciding what to do.

She’s quiet for so long that Klaus begins to wonder if she’s going to clam up and refuse to speak to him for the next couple days.

But then she tells him.

Everything.

About Damon.

About the werewolves. Both times.

About her dad.

She refuses to look at him as she does so, instead burying her face into her knees as she wraps her arms around her legs, drawing them up. Her words are hollow, almost mechanical, as if she’s dissociating herself while she summarizes each event. And even though she leaves out some details, Klaus can very easily fill in the blanks for himself while soaking in her words.

She doesn’t see the growing horror on his face, the way his eyes widen, the way his throat turns dry.

Caroline has been tortured not once, but four times. Once while she was human. Three when she was a new vampire. And she’s only been a vampire for a couple years.

She doesn’t see the growing fury, the way his eyes flash golden, the way the veins on his face blacken.

Her so-called friends all knew about the compulsion and rape she suffered at Damon’s hands. And they didn’t care. Her so-called boyfriend knew about the torture she suffered at the hands of the werewolves, and he allowed it to happen. And being tortured by her own father for being a vampire…

She doesn’t see the tears that spring to the corners of his eyes as he watches her fall apart in front of him.

But what she does see, when she finally stops talking and dares to look up, is him. Sitting in front of her, on his knees, his hands carefully braced on either side of her, close but not touching.

He swallows and finally says, “I’m so sorry for everything you’ve suffered, sweetheart.”

The expression that crosses her face is equal parts confusion and equal parts suspicious. “But why?” Her voice is a little hoarse after talking for over an hour, her eyes red-rimmed, her face wet with tears both shed and unshed.

And in that moment, Klaus can’t help but think she’s the most beautiful being he’s ever met in his entire life. And that he’ll never meet another person like her in a million lifetimes.

“Because you didn’t deserve any of it.” His response is simple, honest, and unrestrained.

“Why?” There’s growing bewilderment in her voice now.

He pauses, thinking over his response before he decides to go with, “Is it really so hard to believe that for all my… faults, that there are some lines that even I don’t cross?”

Caroline stares at him for a long moment, and Klaus fidgets uncomfortably under the weight of her gaze. It feels like she’s looking into his soul and judging him, and he’s not quite sure how to feel about it. Finally, she says, “I think I believe you. But… why do you care? I’m nobody special or important. I’m just… a baby vampire. Shit happens.” Her words are slightly bitter, as if she’s repeating something she’s been told.

Klaus swallows, partially wanting to laugh at the absurdity of her words, of the reality of how she sees herself. He wants to shake the gods, because this baby vampire who has upturned his world cannot see herself the way he sees her.

He settles for shaking his head as he says, “You’re wrong. I once told you, you’re beautiful, strong, full of light. I fancy you. That hasn’t changed. You’re so strong after everything you’ve been through.”

Caroline looks at him, really looks at him this time. There’s an odd look on her face, and she says quietly, “I want to believe you. But I’m tired of being collateral damage, Klaus. When shit happens, I always get hurt. And no one ever cares to pick up the pieces. They expect me to just get over it and move on. And one day, things are going to get real bad, and I’ll probably die.”

An uncomfortable feeling overcomes him at her words, a strange clawing sensation in his chest, and before he can stop himself, he snarls, “I would never let that happen.”

She shakes her head, a sad smile on her lips as she says, “Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep, Klaus. You might feel it in this moment, but I’m not going to hold you to it.”

This time, Klaus shakes his head in response as he says, “I can’t go back and change the things that you’ve endured, Caroline. But I can do everything in my power to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Tyler might be your first love... but I intend to be your last.”

When Caroline opens her mouth to respond, he vows, “However long it takes.”

And he means it.

He doesn’t expect a response from her anytime soon, but by the contemplative expression that overcomes her…

He thinks that he just might have a chance.

Caroline’s quiet afterwards, eventually falling into a light slumber after the emotionally drainng ordeal she’s had, and he’s content to enjoy the silence while he plots.

The first thing he’s going to do when the Bennett witch’s spell fades is to hunt down and kill Silas.

Then, it looks like he’ll be having a chat with the rest of the Mystic Falls gang, starting with the werewolf boy and the older Salvatore.

And finally... he intends to continue the conversations started with his baby vampire. It’s clear to him that Caroline has suffered from the trauma she’s endured, and he’s going to show her that she can lean on him. She’s obviously mistrustful of him, for good reasons, but she has shown that she’s been willing to trust him on occasion.

It’s a start, and he will make the most of it.

(Starting with apologizing for the two times he’s bitten her.)

Caroline Forbes entered his life and turned it upside down, and if there’s anything Klaus is good at, it’s playing the long game.

And he plays for keeps.

XXXXX

FIN.

#klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #writing prompt #for lottie #klarolineagainnaturally

50 notes · View notes

shhh-no-ones-home · 4 years ago

Text

liar, liar (2/2) bucky barnes x reader

+++++++++

part 1 part 2

i didnt edit this before my computer died so if it sucks sorry lol

song: 5 am by amber run

tag list: @cynic-spirit

+++++++++

about a week later and i was itching to get back into it. i felt useless sitting at home healing, and bucky new that. so when sam called, though he was hesitant to let me go, he told me what was going down anyway. he helped me get dressed and we made our way to the meeting spot.

when we got there it was easy to tell sam was uncomfortable with me being there. he made it known i should be at home resting. but i made sure he knew i could be useful in other ways. bucky and sam both knew it was a losing battle to argue with me, even if i had a hard time doing anything by myself. so when john showed up again, this time by himself, we all were angrier than we were the first time.

"what is it gonna take for you to actually piss off?"

i asked and he faked hurt.

"wow y/n, that hurts."

i held my hand against my abdomen.

" as much as a bullet wound?"

i asked and he sent me a look.

"you know i didnt do that on purpose."

i side nodded.

"do i?"

bucky stepped in front of me.

"what are you doing here john?"

"im here to help."

"i think youve helped enough."

i could tell bucky was on edge. if anything he was shielding me as best he could incase anything else happened or progressed.

"we both know you need me-"

"just like that?"

same asked, shaking his head and also stepping forward.

"we can just move on, work together-"

"you shot my girlfriend john! you think im just going to move on from that?!?!"

bucky yelled. i could tell he was getting tense. i touched his shoulder gently.

"bucky let it go."

i said calmly, just to him.

"no! i wont! and i find it weird that you arent as upset about this as i am."

he was almost in hysterics, looking from me to john.

"she has done nothing but try to be nice to you and this is the thanks she gets."

he said with a harsh tone, stepping away from me and getting into johns face. i breathed deeply, wincing at the pinching feeling in my side. sam looked worried as he tried to study me and make sure they didnt lunge at each other.

"ive only ever just been doing my job. i cant help it she got in the way."

"oh sure, cause youre job is to hurt innocent people. steve would have never even carried a gun."

john looked away for a second, clenching his jaw.

"im not steve."

"yeah no shit."

"bucky."

i warned and he shook his head.

"youre not steve and youre not captain america."

"i am whether you like it or not."

he quipped back.

"back off john."

i warned but they were still face to face, fuming at each other.

"youll never be captain America."

Bucky seethed. sam hated him just as much and i knew if it came down to it he would protect bucky but he wouldnt get between the two.

"neither will you."

he said and i looked to the ceiling. that was a mistake.

"steve was my friend. you didnt even know him. he was a good man, not some self righteous ass-hat parading around town doing photo ops and signing autographs."

john went to open his mouth until i stepped between them and put my hand on his shoulder.

"we dont have time for this."

i said sternly, placing my other hand on Bucky's shoulder and pushing the two apart. john shrugged my hand off his shoulder, his eyes never once leaving buck.

"i dont see why you all defend him. hes not worth it."

john said and now it was my time to fume over him. before i could even think about what i was doing, my hand was leaving bucky's shoulder and colliding its way into johns jaw.

"y/n!"

sam yelled, bucky holding my arms lightly as john stood back upright.

"hes twice the man youll ever be."

i said loudly, stumbling over and placing my hand at my side my side. bucky tried to keep me steady.

"youll never be captain America because you are the difference between a good man and a good soldier. you only ever do what you think is right in an act of duty, not what you think is right for the good of the people. ive seen it, steve only ever thought about others. he never cared about the title, he only wanted to do what was right."

i was starting to feel light headed

"bucky."

i mumbled out, feeling my legs give out under me.

"shit."

he said and i looked down as he guided me to the floor. i was beginning to bleed through my bandages.

"you dont deserve that shield because you lack empathy john."

i struggled. he just looked down at me with a guilty look on his face. he knew exactly what i was talking about and he could see it now, the consequences of his actions sat on the floor bleeding.

"i hope you get better soon y/n."

he said, gripping the shield tighter against his arm and walking away from us. i looked up at bucky who had his hand over mine, putting pressure against the wound.

"i guess you were right, i should've stayed home."

i labored.

"but god was that punch worth it."

i said and he laughed a little through a few tears.

"youre stupid sometimes but i love you anyways."

he said and i smiled, wincing as i tried to sit up.

"i love you too buck, now help me stand. we have some people to save."

i said, bracing myself against him as he lifted me off the floor. i stumbled into him and he held me tightly.

"maybe we should get you to the hospital-"

"im fine buck, just help me over there."

he did as told, sam coming to help out.

"you guys go make sure he doesnt hurt anyone else. ill be here when youre done."

sam nodded, moving to leave but pausing when bucky didnt move.

"its okay buck. ill be okay."

i touched his face gently. for a split second i passed my vision to him, to let him know i meant it. when it was over he nodded at me, a small smile on his face.

"dont die before i get back."

i laughed a little as he pulled my hand from his cheek.

"ill be right here, alive and well."

he kissed my forehead before looking to sam and taking off.

"make sure you get him back to me sam!"

i yelled and he held a thumb in the air for me to see as they ran around the corner. i sighed, falling back onto my back with a thud and a loud groan. i felt like i did when i had been shot. i was losing a lot of blood but i didnt want anyone to worry about me anymore. but i knew id get out of this, even if i passed out like i felt i was going to. all was going to be alright in the end. like i told him before he left-

"ill be right here."

#wattpad #x reader #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #sam wilson #the falcon and the winter soldier #the falcon #the winter soldier #imagines #one shots #captain america #321

8 notes · View notes

izzielizzie · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter Eight

Okay I had fully intended to have some like, mystery related stuff going on in this chapter but it’s basically just Maeve/Luis fluff because I’m a sucker for them I guess. Enjoy!

“Okay boys, let’s take it from the top!” Coach Ruffalo shouts at us from the dugout, where he’s leaning against the fence. He set up a short-notice, two-seasons-too-early baseball practice for Cooper’s showcase game next weekend. Not many people showed up, and I’m cutting it pretty close to my football practice, but I’d do anything to make sure Cooper gets the recognition he deserves. Even if the entire school thinks he’s using steroids.

I adjust my crouch as Cooper winds up, pulls his arm back, and throws a perfect fastball that is, unfortunately, too high. The batter leans back, and before I can act, the ball comes hurling towards my face. I lift my hands up, but - because I have no luck apparently - the ball brushes against the top of my glove only slowing it enough that my nose doesn’t break when it hits me.

“Luis!” The batter - some new guy, I think his name is Sean - comes barreling towards me with Cooper right behind him. They grab my arms and haul me up as Ruffalo runs over. He grabs my shoulders and looks at my nose.

“Well, it’s not broken son. I think you’d better get into the nurse’s office.”

“I’ll take him,” Cooper says, looking both upset and terrified. I know why. If word about his fastball being this fast gets out, the steroid allegations would have some pretty solid evidence.

“No, no,” I say, pulling my glove off and holding my hand against my nose to stem the blood.

“Luis-”

“I can get inside myself, keep playing.”

Ruffalo looks concerned. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” I call over my shoulder as I pull away from the hands that are grasping me.

I ignore the voices calling my name as I push through the front door and make a beeline for the nurse’s office. “Luis!” A familiar voice calls. I turn to see Maeve Rojas standing in her soccer uniform, one hand on her locker door. She sees the blood on my face, blanches, shuts her locker hastily, and rushes towards me. “What the hell did you do?”

“A baseball hit my face,” I say as everything tilts on its axis. “Also the floor is tilting, do you feel that?”

Maeve stares at me open mouthed for a moment before shaking herself, taking my arm, and leading me towards the staircase. “No Luis, it is not. You’re getting woozy.”

“Just take me to the nurse, I'll be fine.”

“Santos it’s nearly four she’s gone. Just sit for a second.”

I do as I’m told, mostly because I can’t stand anymore. I watch as Maeve roots around her gym bag and pulls out a pack of napkins and a water bottle. She pulls a napkin out of the packet, folds it into a neat square, and presses it against my nose. “Does that hurt?”

I shake my head and Maeve puts a hand on the back of my head to keep it still. “Don’t move your head, just talk.”

“Okay,” I say, my voice muffled against the napkin.

Maeve presses the napkin against my nose as I open my mouth to ask the question that’s been buzzing around my head for a week. “Wanna go to the captain’s dinner with me tomorrow?” I’m going again this year, as always, but Cooper’s had his captain status revoked for the time being, so I’m going as baseball captain and Jake Riordan has football captain back.

“What?” Maeve asks as she pulls the napkin off of my nose, wrapps it into a bundle so that the blood is on the inside, and drops it into my lap. She purses her lips as she takes another napkin, pours a few drops of water on it, and presses it against my cheek, wiping way the blood. Her hand is on the back of my head again.

I repeat my question. Maeve drops the next napkin in my lap and crouches down to my height to look at my nose. I study her amber eyes for a beat. “I’m not looking for a boyfriend Luis.”

“I know that. And I’m not looking for a girlfriend. Shit’s still messy with Olivia.”

Maeve’s lips are pressed so tightly they’re turning white. She gingerly lifts up her hand to touch my nose. It hurts a little, but I don’t flinch. “It’s not broken I don’t think,” she says. “Wanna try getting up?”

“Sure.” I stand and then nearly fall as the floor tilts. I throw my arms out to catch me but Maeve’s already got an arm around my waist, leading me back onto the stair. “Well that didn’t go well.”

“Clearly not.” Maeve pulls her gym bag towards herself, pulls out a granola bar, and hands it to me. “I hope you’re not opposed to cranberries.”

“I am not,” I say. I struggle with the wrapper for a moment, and Maeve leans forward, her hands covering mine as she rips open the cheery wrapping. I take a bite of the bar and I nearly instantly feel better. Maeve pulls out her own granola bar and sits across from me, tucking her feet underneath herself. “You didn’t answer my question,” I say through a mouthful of dried cranberries and oats. Maeve knits her eyebrows at me as she waits for me to swallow and speak again. I repeat myself and her eyebrows unknit.

“I’ll answer if you answer my question first.”

“Sounds legit,” I say with a shrug. Maeve rolls her eyes.

“Luis, why do you always hook up with other people when you have a girlfriend? I know what it’s like to be cheated on, and it’s not fun. And you’re not a bad person. You’ve always made good decisions.”

Normally, a question like that would hurt. But the way Maeve says it - like she actually gives a crap about hearing my thoughts instead of just shaming me - makes me want to actually answer. But I don’t know if I could ever really tell her the truth: that no matter how many people I date, I can’t get those amber eyes out of my head. I stare at her, and she must take my silence as an answer.

“I’ll go with you Santos, but just as friends.”

“Deal. I’ll pick you up at five tomorrow.”

“Okay. See you then.”

The Rojas are overjoyed to see me. So much so that it’s starting to give me a headache. I’m in their living room, sitting on their piano bench at exactly five minutes before five. My mother wrestled me into a suit and combed down my usually messy hair until it felt like a helmet, and despite my best efforts on my driver over, I can’t get it to revert back to its normal state. “You look so lovely today, Luis,” Mrs. Rojas says. We arrived at the front door at the same time, which was mildly awkward. She’s still in her work clothes, just like Mr. Santos and I feel like I’m being interrogated.

“Thank you Mrs. Rojas.”

“You’re welcome honey. It’s so lovely to see you and Maeve are friends again.”

“Y- Yes I really missed her.” I was about to say “yeah” but something about being in this luxurious house makes me feel like using slang is a sin.

Mr. Rojas narrows his eyes at me. “She’s just been through a breakup you know. And if y-”

“Hi Luis!” Bronwyn says brightly and loudly, talking over her father. She practically materialized in the wide door leading towards the stairs. She’s in her pajamas, her hair pulled back in a loose bun.

“Dad, leave him alone,” Maeve says, stepping forward next to her sister. “Hey, Luis. You’re early.” We all sit in silence for a moment until Maeve says my name again.

“Oh yes. Hi. My mom practically kicked me out of the house so I’d be early.” I want to kick myself for sounding so dumb, but Maeve looks so pretty it huts. She’s wearing a sleeveless olive green dress that just brushes against the floor. It’s got a deep v-neck that’s supplemented by the pendent necklace she’s kept under her shirt since she was eight. Her dark hair has been let down and curled, the front strands pulled back into a braided crown. Her eyes are bright against her dress, and her locks of coppery hair are more prominent when they’re curled.

Maeve smiles at me. “Well, that sounds like your mother.”

“I know.”

“We should get going,” Maeve says looking at the clock over my head.

“Yes.” I stand at the same time as Mr. and Mrs. Rojas, who launch into the usual “don’t stay out too late, make sure you stay safe, don’t get too cold, don’t drink” spiel that Maeve cuts off.

“We’ll be model teenagers, don't worry about us.” She allows herself to be hugged once by each parent before she tugs me out of the door and into the cool night air.

“You look nice,” I say as we settle into my car. I crank up the heat as Maeve snuggles deep into the passenger seat.

“Thanks. Your hair looks surprisingly tame.”

I give her a weary look as I twist back to reverse, putting an arm around her seat. “I’m going to take the compliment and ignore the insult.”

Maeve giggles. “Please do. I’m not quite sure what I’m saying right now. I think the hairspray fumes are getting to me.”

I smile as I straighten. Almost subconsciously, I run my fingertips along her shoulder.

“Don’t do that,” Maeve snaps.

“What?”

“Flirt. We’re friends.”

I smirk. “There was nothing friendly about how you were looking at me earlier.”

“I mean it Santos.”

I hold up my right hand in mock surrender. “Okay, okay Rojas. From this moment forward, we will be just friends.”

“Don’t say friends like that.”

“Like what?”

“Mockingly.”

“Jesus, Maeve is there anything I can say?”

“Yes.”

“Oh?”

“I, Luis Santos, solely swear to stop annoying Maeve.”

I snort. “That’s a promise you know I can’t make, love.”

I see Maeve smile a little from the corner of my eye. I’ve missed this. These conversations that are somewhere between arguments and flirting. And, judging by the look on her face, Maeve misses it too. We sit in silence until we pull into the Bayview Hotel parking lot. The hotel has become the go-to place for events, and I’ve been here so many times as a caterer that it’s kind of weird to be a guest.

“I wonder who’s catering,” I mumble to Maeve as we climb out of the car.

“It’s not your dad?”

“Nah, he doesn’t do stuff for the school.”

“Might be someone the hotel hired.”

Maeve shivers against the night air as a twig snaps in the bushes next to us. “What was that?” she asks as I drape my suit jacket over her shoulders. She flinches, but then slides her arms into the sleeves.

“Probably a dragon.”

“Yes because there are dragons in urban southern California.”

“There might be,” I say with a shrug. “Just because you don’t see them doesn’t mean they don’t exis-”

Maeve puts her hand over my mouth, hitting against my nose. “Shhh.” She drags me over to a tree, pressing herself against it. I can feel liquid pooling in my nose and bring a hand to it. When I look at my hand, I’m woozy when I see blood. Maybe my nose isn’t as healed as I thought. “Maeve,” I whisper, tapping her shoulder. She pushes me away. She’s leaning around the tree a little, a look of concentration on her face. “Maeve,” I hiss.

“What?” she whisper-shouts, turning towards me so fast her necklace thumps against her collarbone. “Oh,” she says when she sees my face. “Go deal with that. I’ll be right there.”

“But-”

“Go.” I look at her for a moment before turning and walking as fast as I can without fully running until I push my way into the bathroom.

“Santos, what happened to you?” I turn to see TJ Forrester.

“Bloody nose,” I mumble. I’ve been hostile towards TJ since Maeve told me about him cheating, and I think he’s finally figured out why since I saw him watching us when we climbed out of my car.

“Hey man, I’m happy for you and Maeve.”

“We’re not dating,” I say shortly.

“Okay then, well, either way, she deserves to be around someone who cares about her.”

“And it sure as fuck isn’t you.”

If TJ is hurt, he doesn’t show it. “You’re right Santos.” He turns to leave, but then suddenly looks at me with that haughty look that drives girls insane. “And it isn’t you either.” He says it like he knows something about Maeve that he wants me to ask about. But I don’t and he leaves, slamming the door behind him.

It takes me ten minutes to get the nose bleed under control, and another five to get my breathing back to a normal rhythm. TJ wanted to make me angry, and it worked. I push through the doors to the ballroom, and I smile when I see Maeve sitting at one of the tables towards the back. There’s something soothing about her. “Hey, sorry I’m late,” I whisper as I sit next to her, my hand grazing her bare back. She narrows her eyes but doesn’t say anything. It’s a little disheartening sometimes, that my impeccable flirting skills don’t seem to work on her, but it is what it is I suppose.

“That’s okay. But I just heard something really interesting.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, about Jake Riordan. He-”

Maeve is interrupted by Gupta talking into the microphone at the ballroom stage. We’ve been drowning her out, but suddenly we hear Maeve’s name: “And we have to give a quick shout out to Maeve Rojas for leading the Bayview High Girls’ Soccer team to the scrimmage championship that happens every preseason. And to Luis Santos, who will be captaining the football team during our annual season opener next week.”

Maeve smiles at me as the room breaks into applause. We both stand as our coaches both head towards us with the medals that I’ve envied for years. Once we sit, we turn back to Gupta who’s talking about the cheerleaders. I’m about to ask Maeve what she was going to say, but her hand slips into mine under the table and all of a sudden my thoughts have floated like a balloon slipping out of a child’s hand. Everyone, including Maeve herself, thinks that I’d dump her three days after our first date (if that ever happened) but god I’m so fucking in love with this girl it hurts.

#when we didn't need to lie #this is pure fluff #with like #no plot #so #enjoy i guess #maeve rojas #luis santos #izzielizzie's fics

9 notes · View notes

punkscowardschampions · 3 years ago

Text

Amber & Cosmo

Amber: [Okay so I’m just gonna write my diabolical idea here so we know how it’s kicking off, basically whenever Dash and Amber hooked up- which was long ago enough that he should but hasn’t given her the stash back but literally never long enough ago that it won’t be gross to Cosmo that this happened, soz boy- she thought they were doing so in Dash’s bedroom but it’s actually his brother’s so when she comes back looking for her stash/anything she can replace it with, she’s actually ransacking Cosmo’s room and we know it’s blatantly because he lied that he didn’t have any drugs when he in fact did so he’s an all around lovely boy]

Amber: [picture the scene of him walking into his own room like wtf and then she has to hurriedly explain all of the above and then I figure I can start this convo when she’s for real in Dash’s room searching the right one lol]

Amber: I’m so so so sorry

Amber: I can’t find the words…

Cosmo: [The levels we would’ve been like GET OUT without terrifying her into fully leaving, in our room fuming rn]

Cosmo: Did you take any of my shit?

Amber: I’m not here for anything that isn’t mine, I told you

Cosmo: You said a lot

Cosmo: and fast

Cosmo: You’ll excuse me if I was more distracted by the more pressing issues like the stranger in my fucking room

Amber: Because you were saying the same thing again and again

Amber: and loud

Amber: my pressing issue was, and is, me not getting arrested

Cosmo: That’s your life choices

Cosmo: maybe don’t break and enter if you don’t wanna be worrying about that, there you go, pro-tip

Amber: Passive aggression towards me is understandable but please don’t threaten a real act of, you know I’m no burglar

Cosmo: I don’t know that, I don’t know who the hell you are

Amber: If you need to empty out my pockets to be sure, I’ve not left

Amber: yet

Cosmo: I can’t see anything missing

Amber: I feel stupid for not realising it couldn’t be his room

Amber: stupider

Cosmo: It’s an unpleasant way to find out he’s a piece of shit for you but you’ll be better off for knowing

Amber: Typically unfair of the universe not to let me have the information before we had sex

Cosmo: I might be more willing to extend sympathy if it weren’t in my fucking bed

Amber: Take mine because it was

Amber: but believe me that I didn’t know

Cosmo: Doesn’t change the fact

Cosmo: He’s fucking dead

Amber: I can’t change it now, but I’ll bring you some new sheets to show you the sorry was meant

Amber: and knock before I come through your window

Cosmo: Or you could just not, on both counts

Amber: if you want

Cosmo: Funny when someone breaks in you don’t really get much say

Amber: It’s your choice from here on though, I was being pushy when I thought it was your lying brother’s window

Cosmo: Generous

Cosmo: What are you even looking for?

Amber: 🌿 I borrowed my dad’s stash

Amber: borrowed is the important part

Cosmo: How does that work

Cosmo: except for not, clearly

Cosmo: You may as well go, ‘cos that will be long gone

Amber: Empty handed!? I can’t do that

Cosmo: Help yourself to any crap he’s got in there

Cosmo: doesn’t bother me

Amber: I don’t think there’s anything in here my father would accept as a 🕊

Cosmo: No shit

Cosmo: Unless he’s also got the taste of a wannabe hippie

Amber: Their wardrobes are unsurprisingly similar but he’d kill me if I brought home new items to replace the handful of old clothes he already owns

Cosmo: You’re one of them

Cosmo: Figures, only people who’ll associate with him at this point

Amber: Them?

Cosmo: You live in the compound

Amber: oh right 👽

Amber: yes, I’ve lived there for a few months

Cosmo: My sympathies on that one

Amber: 😂 Thanks, but even going back empty handed wouldn’t result in a RIP 🥤 ending, it’s okay

Cosmo: There’s hardly a shortage where that came from

Amber: or of worse places I could or have lived

Amber: Have you always lived here?

Cosmo: I’d phone social for you but the case is well-established already, I reckon

Cosmo: Dublin? Always

Cosmo: Better postcode for a bit but now just on the weekends

Amber: better because…?

Cosmo: All the reasons they put on the listings

Cosmo: price, location, near to whatever amenities you might want, idk, you know what better means

Amber: You forgot no strange girls climbing in your bedroom window, it was the perfect opportunity to stay angry at me

Amber: but this is better, agreed 🙃

Cosmo: I’m still angry, don’t worry

Cosmo: you’d not get anywhere near my dad’s windows

Amber: so you get the weekends off from me

Cosmo: I’m definitely not doing his dirty work for him, he doesn’t deserve that but neither do you so

Cosmo: If stealing your stash and not letting you in his room wasn’t hint enough, he’s not gonna make you his girlfriend, okay

Amber: I’m not THAT stupid, I don’t know what you got from first glance or this on going impression but it sounds like I don’t want to know

Cosmo: You aren’t going to be here every weekday then, that’s what I mean

Amber: I could be, I found a lot of spare rooms on the way to his, they’re not as nice as yours but they don’t have horrific memories attached

Amber: yet

Cosmo: We’re not looking for lodgers and you just moved

Amber: over half a year ago isn’t a just

Amber: Why don’t you want to live with me?

Cosmo: 😂

Cosmo: You’ve got jokes, at least, if not your stash

Amber: if you had manners you’d help me

Cosmo: You and my brother desecrated my bed

Cosmo: Why’d I owe you anything, like

Amber: You’re 🤬 at him, he’s owed us both getting our own back and I can’t do a good enough job at it on my own

Cosmo: You’ve got a point, alright

Cosmo: [Come in]

Amber: [picture her buried in this carnage because she’s so smol and his room was such a mess before she even got there, just looking at him as she’s trying unsuccessfully to like throw this mattress out of the window like hello]

Cosmo: [just walking over and taking that off her with ease because you’re tall, lean it against the wall like not gonna happen babe, because as much as we’d like to throw your mattress in the stinky pond, we don’t want to cause hassle for Ali or Billie because we’re a good boy unlike someone, rifle through the mess of clothes and put aside any that might be worth something, indicate as much by doing the money thing with your hands like kaching]

Amber: [at least she’ll be too busy being shamelessly impressed by how tall and strong you are to pout about it, so you’re welcome but also lowkey not because like I said shameless haha]

Cosmo: [at least you can maintain eye contact and look at her right back as you’re like ‘what?’ ‘cos you don’t not know what you look like lol]

Amber: [sitting down on a skateboard that’s on the floor because the bed would be off limits even if the mattress wasn’t on the lean ‘what are we doing?’ like we need do more than raid his clothes if we wanna really annoy him but also the saucy undertone is obvious especially because eye contact hasn’t been broken remotely]

Cosmo: [shrugs ‘he doesn’t care about anything’ but not as offhand as that sounds because we are constantly and entirely at a loss with him ‘take what will make it worth it for you’ break that eye contact to look around like hmm]

Amber: [rolls the skateboard at him but obvs in a playful not aggressive manner cos we’re getting up as if to leave like ‘it was nice to meet you’ because not at all unspoken vibe of that makes it worth it for me]

Cosmo: [pick it up as we raise a brow half like was it and half yeah it was ‘cos duh ‘these are pricey-’ gesture to all the skateboards lying about with the one you’re now holding ‘and easier to get out the window’]

Amber: [sitting on said window ledge rn because even if it’s a tiny one so is she and we were gonna climb out before he made that suggestion DUH ‘maybe but what’ll I do with them’ looks down at self and her aesthetic because we’re nothing if not self aware baby ‘other than string one of the wheels onto a necklace’]

Cosmo: [a small lol but in a yeah that’s true look at you way without being THE RUDEST ‘put ‘em in a sock and you’ve got a weapon’ does the thing where you pick something up with your toes on some laundry ‘I’d supply your own sock though’ like ew]

Amber: [a lol of her own at his monkey footed antics and opening the window like that sock is THE GROSSIEST and it stinks in here which lbr isn't that much of an exaggeration 'the creativity doesn't sweeten the deal enough that part of it would be allowing me to use violence for conflict resolution, sadly' a pout 'but admitting you want me to stay here instead of trying to get me kicked out of there remains an option, thankfully' a grin like 😁]

Cosmo: [at least you can throw some of his clothes out the window without affecting your mother and grandmother so doing that without touching anything truly DISGUSTANG but giving her a look as if that suggestion is, but with a 😏 ‘cos don’t need to go that hard with the rudeness rn ‘we’d charge more rent’]

Amber: [looks around at the stuff he has already said is worth money before hopping down from the window to pick up a guitar Dash has obvs left lying around 'how much?']

Cosmo: [shrugs because not our bag ‘aren’t all instruments kinda expensive?’ ‘cos true unless it’s like a play guitar lmao]

Amber: ['instruments in this condition are, sure' because we're blatantly holding a flashy electric guitar rn not a beat up acoustic like she's used to seeing all the hippies play 'but it can't have any sentimental value' like there's no point taking it if he's not even gonna notice]

Cosmo: [‘good luck with that’ like he don’t care about anything ‘cos that’s how it seems hen]

Amber: [such a face on because even though he's proved they weren't friends and he's a dick she at least thought his hippie vibe wasn't total bollocks but all this expensive shit hard-core goes against that so with a sigh and a shrug she's going back to the window like well I might as well leave then 'thanks anyway, and sorry, again']

Cosmo: [a noise like that’s simplifying things a bit, a psh if you will, ‘guess he fucked you over first’ but a sincere face to show we know he did ‘just don’t do this again’ gestures vaguely like what bit do you mean sir]

Amber: ['it's my dad's stash, not mine' as if that's the only thing Dash did wrong because we're not gonna get into the fact you've known him for months you thought and likewise thought you were friends as everyone just thinks you're a slutty hippie stereotype so you have no reason to believe it's not the same assumption here 'I'll find a different way to replace it']

Cosmo: [reach in your pocket like how much even though you are a bit 😒 because essentially paying for your dickhead brother’s habit rn]

Amber: ['no!' such a fierce shake of her head and such a fiercely angry face because it's not his debt or problem even if it was actually about the money/ drugs instead of the lies and Dash's shitty behaviour which turns into a sad face/head in hands moment when she says 'I was beginning to think I couldn't feel any worse about how I've treated you' and just really quietly basically under her breath adding 'stupid' because @ herself for everything including thinking this was a good idea and still being here]

Cosmo: [‘hey’ and moving forward but then moving back awkwardly just as fast ‘cos we don’t really know what to think about you rn, as is this weird situation you find yourselves in ‘forget about it, I’m fine’ add ‘and the bit that ain’t fine is on him so don’t feel bad, honestly’]

Amber: [at least you can't see that awkward move back and feel worse for that gal because even though he's right and it's not really your fault you feel bad 'it's my fault he used your room, plenty of other girls from the commune wouldn't and haven't insisted on going anywhere else, and mine too that I'm at your house again today...I should've let it go' because we're never gonna be the peace and love cliche soz parents but we know that's what you want]

Cosmo: [‘he’s owed worse’ like I get why you didn’t let it go, even if your method is dubious babe]

Amber: [a smile that’s genuine relief because who else gets it in your life remotely but then you remember that so you’re like ‘retribution delivered karmically not by me’ but we still haven’t left and we obviously don’t mean it and aren’t trying to pretend we do with our tone because we’re not at the commune now bitches fight us]

Cosmo: [‘good luck with that’ ‘cos same energy of that’s bullshit]

Amber: [a little lol because he literally typed exactly that earlier like okay boy I get it ‘I’m owed worse’ than bad luck or being called out on bullshit that isn’t even hers but he thinks is, both definitely]

Cosmo: [‘undoubtedly’ and a shrug like soz, life’s shit]

Amber: ['where did you get it?' Meaning the money he just tried to give her obvs because she's thinking she might have to get a job to pay her dad back and even though she's clearly worked out from what he said about a better postcode at the weekend and how much stuff Dash has and how he treats it that it's likely from his dad but we hate when people make assumptions about us so we're not trying to do that]

Cosmo: [‘I go to a football academy’ not in the braggy way that sounds just stating the fact, she’s probably not aware that means you get paid boy but go off ‘if you need the cash, you should just take it’ like seriously gal, looking at her like]

Amber: ['What's that like?' SO surprised and intrigued in all the ways not like you could NEVER boy but she's obviously never met anyone else who does anything like that and even more importantly just really driving the point home that we don't know a thing about you and how wild it is we are here having this convo not to mention you're literally offering us money again which we are gonna shake our head to again as we make yet more eye contact 'when I need the money, I'll figure it out for myself' not angry tone this time just stating a fact]

Cosmo: [When you don’t really know how to answer that ‘cos the assumption always is that it’s a dream come true obvs because it is a big opportunity but it’s still a job at the end of the day, one you start much younger than most kids even get a part-time so we’re kinda like what do you mean lmao ‘yeah, it’s great, better than wasting my time at normal school, like’ asking a question back ‘cos not rude ‘you go to school?’ ‘cos undoubtedly aware loads of the commune lot don’t]

Amber: [‘I'm picturing the hunger games with a football' cos we are and that's what we mean lol because normal school is savage enough never mind something so focused on talent and competitiveness like 'are you a scorer?' Bringing back her adorably not knowing football terms and it's like it makes sense you would thrive there if you are and that type haha, nodding our answer to his question 'my dad teaches the kids who don't go' as if that's the only reason we go to school]

Cosmo: [little lol ‘maybe when you’re younger’ ‘cos obviously not all of you make it ‘but we all have pro contracts now, the deadweight is gone’ pop off with the basic explanation of your position on the team for her, we know the vibe hun, nods back ‘better than nothing, I guess’ but we clearly don’t really think so ‘you’re in his year?’ part sympathy part disgust lmao]

Amber: [obviously gonna ask him who his contract is with and if she can see him play but I won't commit you to picking a real team if you don't want to it's just to show that she's genuinely interested because likewise asking him other relevant questions when he's explaining the position he plays etc 'I don't mind school, being in the year above him definitely helps’ because my vibe is she would like school for lots of reasons but she's also Lowkey struggling a lot with it hence she doesn't really have time for a job rn very past me energy of having to do schoolwork until you literally go to bed]

Cosmo: [‘I don’t think it’ll be your scene’ and such a look of confusion that she asked like what do you want, suspish lol, smile though ‘that’s something’ ‘cos no one should have to suffer Dash in our opinion lmao]

Amber: ['Why not?' Such a genuine question but we aren't mad yet because we've clearly never been to a football match before so he might have a valid reason for thinking that and gonna give him the benefit of the doubt and obviously gonna throw something vaguely school related out of the window but nothing that would inconvenience your poor mother or nan though like yeah it's gonna be very important to me that we don't have to cross paths at school as well cos livid lol]

Cosmo: [‘Come on, you don’t think it’s all meat pies and

misogynists, like?’ with a 😏 energy ‘people like you are more likely to run onto the pitch with a sign than sit in the stands’ shakes head ‘sure he skives loads anyway, as the rest of this house actually has places to be and can’t keep a constant eye on him like the kid he is’ like you’ll barely have to see him, don’t worry, probs true]

Amber: [a lol ' are you saying it is or just that you don't want someone like me waving a sign with your name on from the stands?' Ignoring the Dash stuff entirely because now we know what a knob he is we are so over him]

Cosmo: [who can possibly say energy because that’s amused us lowkey]

Amber: ['I wanna see you play' because we do]

Cosmo: [‘why?’ because the levels we’re like WHAT DO YOU WANT cannot be overstated lmao]

Amber: [' Because I think it sounds fun, why don't you want me to?']

Cosmo: [‘if you want to go to a football match, you can’ like you don’t need to come to mine, which sounds ruder than we mean it, just pointing this out]

Amber: [the poutiest because rude and also we aren't stupid we're aware of that thank you boy 'and hold up a sign saying what, for who?' Because duh the fun is cheering you on sir]

Cosmo: [‘We don’t do cheerleaders’ but looking at her slightly less suspish and more curious]

Amber: ['okay, I won't wear the outfit, your loss' accidentally very saucy mental image soz not soz]

Cosmo: [we’re getting such slag vibes ‘cos of how this has all gone down so we’re like steady on gal ‘cos we’re not trying to put out that we’ll get on you ‘cos we know you’ve got previous, not that kinda boy, very #awks on your behalf ‘funny’]

Amber: [Ngl love that because she’s really not but he’s gonna keep thinking this for ages if she hooks up with a random at the clerb again this time and when she dates this old ass dude despite the fact it’s the first time she’s done either haha ‘Pom poms are usually plastic’ spoken like plastic is a swear word lol ‘and tissue paper isn’t recyclable either, environmentally responsible arts and crafts are the limit’]

Cosmo: [rolls eyes but not in the sarky energy of the emoji ‘what the fuck would you wave, some broccoli?’]

Amber: ['I can cut the cardboard into any shape’ so amused genuinely ‘so yes, if you like’]

Cosmo: [‘sure I wouldn’t wanna hinder your creativity, express yourself’ in a faux hippie energy]

Amber: ['I wouldn’t want everyone to think I was there protesting the pies and misogyny’🤔 ‘What number are you?’]

Cosmo: [‘hopefully I don’t mess up or you’ll have to add the racism to the list’ but tell her your number obvs]

Amber: [do a tick on the palm on her hand with her finger like noted ‘Does that mean I’m invited?’]

Cosmo: [‘it’s not an invite event’ shrugs ‘cos we still do not get this lmao ‘can’t stop you’]

Amber: [‘Unfriendly’ because I’m bringing that pun back thank you]

Cosmo: [my boo says I can and I will, ‘so weird’ kinda under our breath but not in a snide way so she could hear]

Amber: [‘it being weird to be interested in getting to know you says more about you than me’ like 😏 energy of what you’re so unlikeable are you as if the weirdness doesn’t come from the fact you hooked up with his brother and then broke into his house but okay babe]

Cosmo: [‘we’re not going to be friends’ like that’s a fact, bit rude but also I understand]

Amber: [‘We could be’ again so genuine as if there’s not reasons why you wouldn’t]

Cosmo: [‘no’ very simply even if we’re a bit #conflicted ‘cos don’t want to be a dick to you]

Amber: [‘okay’ because you literally can’t and wouldn’t argue with that so just actually go to leave for real this time gal]

Cosmo: [gonna have to let her go for now but let some time pass but like 15 mins ish not like a long time, enough that she’s gone though]

Cosmo: I didn’t mean to offend you

Amber: You didn’t, it would have offended me if you’d said no after your first 👀

Cosmo: Good

Cosmo: because it’s not about you

Cosmo: it isn’t a problem with you personally, I mean

Amber: it’s about your brother, I know, I’m not a real 👽 I understand why

Cosmo: Amongst other things, yeah

Amber: other things you don’t have to explain to me, it’s okay, I meant and mean it

Cosmo: alright

Amber: Thanks for trying to help me

Cosmo: There’s other ways to screw him over, if you want to

Amber: are there?

Cosmo: ‘course

Cosmo: there are things he cares about, even if not his things

Amber: like…?

Cosmo: think about it, he made it obvious

Cosmo: access to drugs and hippie girls

Amber: I don’t have a way to take either of those from him

Cosmo: Yeah you do

Cosmo: you live there, they’re your ‘family’ or whatever nonsense

Amber: not the girls he goes for, they’re always new

Cosmo: you can’t put it in the welcome pack

Amber: I’m not going to draw more attention to him, there’s already too much, and some of these girls would be more attracted to any negatives I pointed out, for reasons I don’t need to explain

Cosmo: drugs then, the new girls won’t be the source of those

Amber: Neither am I

Cosmo: it’ll be blokes

Cosmo: or at least adults

Cosmo: braindead or otherwise, they can’t all be fooled by him and his bullshit

Cosmo: get him cut off

Amber: I’m flattered you think my word is worth more than money to a dealer, but I’m not sure it is

Cosmo: I thought it was nature’s bounty with you lot only

Cosmo: and you pretended to have morals about it all

Amber: pretended being the key word, but I’ll try and get him blacklisted

Cosmo: I’m just saying, fuck up his spot there, that’s the only thing that would bother him

Cosmo: If you can’t then you can’t, sorry

Amber: I just don’t want him to think I care about his behaviour because of the bad sex we had, which he probably will

Cosmo: Yeah, probably

Cosmo: he loves himself enough to believe everyone else does

Amber: If they were my sisters this would be a lot easier

Cosmo: It’s a big enough place to avoid him, yeah?

Amber: But letting him get away with this is giving him free passes for as long as he wants to lie and treat other people the same, I shouldn’t allow it when the only reason is because I don’t really have time for a full blown vendetta, who am I if I do that?

Amber: …sorry for the vent, this isn’t your responsibility

Cosmo: You’re clearly a decent person

Cosmo: You can’t be responsible for all the ones that aren’t

Cosmo: I should do something because he’s my brother, right

Cosmo: but I can’t

Amber: I’m taking the compliment, after that we can stop talking about him

Cosmo: You wanted help with it

Amber: And the dealer angle is helpful ⭐️

Cosmo: Alright, I didn’t have to like but I felt bad for you

Amber: You could’ve stopped there and not made me feel bad about myself

Cosmo: I was trying to do the opposite

Cosmo: you got sarky with your ⭐️s

Cosmo: I didn’t fuck you over

Amber: It was genuine, for a genuinely good idea! I also said thank you and sorry, like, multiple times

Cosmo: Who uses gold stars genuinely

Amber: My dad has sheets of them he never uses sarcastically if you wanna start being someone

Cosmo: Alright, teacher jokes

Cosmo: You understand that it looks sarcastic though

Cosmo: To standard people

Amber: To people who don’t think it was a good idea, you mean, but who are they? It makes sense and will probably work

Amber: and I understand why it’s easier for you to take this stance with me, sure, we’ve been through that

Cosmo: What stance?

Amber: close to argumentative without crossing over the line, defensive

Cosmo: You broke into my house, I dunno how you aren’t getting that

Cosmo: unless you’re purposefully pretending not to, which is your dick move, not mine

Amber: I know I did, but you have no reason to feel unsafe because of me, which we’ve also been through

Cosmo: I don’t, feel unsafe

Cosmo: I don’t think that means we need to talk or get to know each other

Amber: It’s not going to happen again which means you don’t have to see me again, and we can stop talking any time too

Cosmo: You’re acting like I’m being rude

Amber: No, I said it was fine when you asked me if I was offended

Cosmo: What were you trying to do, asking about me

Amber: get the answers

Cosmo: 🙄

Cosmo: Yeah but why

Amber: Why wouldn’t I want to leave you with an impression which isn’t me as some BIG BAD coming through your window? Because I’m not and you wouldn’t think so if we bumped into each other in town anywhere ‘normal’

Cosmo: So you was trying to get yourself out of trouble

Cosmo: Yeah, okay, that makes sense

Cosmo: I just wanted to know why, that’s all

Amber: I don’t wanna be in trouble but it wasn’t that calculating

Amber: isn’t

Amber: meeting new people, striking up conversation in situations that other people often don’t think are natural, kinda are to me

Cosmo: It’s not a bad thing, I could’ve called the police on you

Cosmo: obviously you don’t want that

Cosmo: you don’t need to worry, I won’t, even if it is a bit late now anyway

Cosmo: Sure, but even so

Cosmo: you can’t say you’re doing that on the regs

Amber: You don’t have my name and the description you could give wouldn’t narrow it down very much once you directed them here

Amber: but I’d still prefer you didn’t, I’m not gonna lie

Amber: I don’t get pushed to those extremes regularly, no, because most people who say they’re my friends are and don’t treat me how Dash did

Amber: if you’re waiting for me to say sorry for making the best out of the unexpected, you being there, I’m not going to

Cosmo: I’ve seen plenty of them, they don’t look like you

Cosmo: Well I’m glad to hear you aren’t regularly breaking and entering

Cosmo: I don’t need an apology

Amber: What do you need, besides the ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️?

Cosmo: Ha ha

Cosmo: like I said, I just didn’t get it

Cosmo: and who says I want to leave a bad impression either

Amber: I haven’t met a ⚽️🏆⭐️ before, if I asked too many questions, that’s why, but if I made you feel uncomfortable, that’s a worse impression and you’ll get an apology anyway

Amber: Not you, or you wouldn’t have helped and I’d be talking to the police instead

Cosmo: I’m used to that

Cosmo: Usually from lads though

Cosmo: or girls but it’s more obviously fake

Cosmo: I’m no ⭐️ yet anyway

Cosmo: I’m not being compared to him, even if that means doing shit it isn’t my job to, I’d rather

Amber: I’m not comparing you, in spite of it turning out I only know Dash as well as I know you

Amber: you could’ve told me you didn’t want me coming to watch you play because of the other girls that do, I’m used to plenty at school being jealous of the way I look

Cosmo: And I intend to keep it that way, the lack of comparison

Cosmo: If I say that’s not what I meant will you accuse me of trying to make you feel bad again?

Amber: What did you mean? If you’re not trying to make me feel bad, I won’t accuse you of anything you haven’t done

Cosmo: It’d be weird if you came because my dad will be there

Amber: I’m even more used to that, all my ‘normal friends’ parents are judgmental about my piercings and the tattoos they can see, it’s okay, I don’t have to come

Cosmo: He wouldn’t judge you, but games are about winning, focus, all that

Cosmo: not inviting random strangers

Amber: He’d still be judging me for how he thinks I’ll behave, as a distraction, either way I’m a bad influence 😈

Cosmo: He’d just be pissed off with me, honestly

Amber: I’ll have to wait to watch you on tv one day, keeping it a secret from my parents who’d be 😠 at me

Amber: and if I get too impatient I can always break into the bedroom of one of your teammates, befriend them and cut their number out of cardboard…

Cosmo: You reckon, do ya

Amber: That you’ll be a 📺⭐️ or someone else on the team will be happy to have me appear in their bedroom? Because yes, I do

Cosmo: 😂 Can’t knock the confidence

Amber: Negging hasn’t been considered flirting since approximately the 90s, so no

Cosmo: Reckoning I’m flirting with you borders on delusional

Amber: which borders on what, ableism? Keep going if you have nothing to do but dig to Australia

Cosmo: Entertaining your fantasies isn’t a requirement for being a good person, whatever politically correct label you wanna throw on it

Amber: If my fantasies were that instantaneous I wouldn’t need entertainment from anywhere else

Cosmo: Good luck with that

Amber: Thanks, I am bored enough to attempt construction of a fully make believe world

Cosmo: You have time to get bored?

Amber: it’s not a forced labour camp

Cosmo: you wouldn’t keep around useless stoners if it was

Amber: And as someone who fits that mould, thank god 🙌🏽

Cosmo: it’s usually more exploitation in the name of free love anyway

Cosmo: and that doesn’t sound familiar at all

Amber: Because you’ve never been in any way exploited

Cosmo: I haven’t, actually, but that’s not really the point

Amber: Of course you have

Cosmo: How have I?

Cosmo: You’re chatting shit which won’t detract from the fact that place attracts nothing but predators of one kind or the other

Amber: Your parents sacrificed you to ⚽️🏆⭐️ the same as mine did to me with ✌🏽☮️💙 we’re both indoctrinated, yours just has a definite job prospect attached to it

Cosmo: You don’t know a single thing about me or my parents, you asked a few questions

Cosmo: you confirmed my brother picks off new girls like a opportunist abuser, and I know he ain’t the only one who treats that place like that

Cosmo: I didn’t say fuck all about you or your parents

Amber: Sport attracts predators too, nobody’s condemning it because of how a large number of people in positions of power treat the ones they have power over

Cosmo: Sport is regulated

Cosmo: for fuck’s sake

Amber: We open our doors to vulnerable people, there are always going to be other people who try and take advantage of that, and maybe at the next place they do there won’t also be as many people around who care

Cosmo: Yeah, you’ve identified the problem there

Cosmo: vulnerable people need protection and actual help

Cosmo: not care from a bunch of people who are entirely unqualified to do shit

Amber: They get help from qualified adults, not every person living there is a clueless teenager and you are actually allowed to leave

Cosmo: Yeah, that’s the point, anyone getting enough real help would leave

Cosmo: it’s a half-way house at best and for every ‘success’ and person that gets the fuck out, you have just as many that get sucked into bullshit they otherwise wouldn’t if you weren’t there

Amber: You’ve never even been there

Cosmo: Don’t need to

Cosmo: if the evidence weren’t out my window, it’s in my house and all so

Amber: Dash based evidence would make anyone cynical

Cosmo: You wish he was your only problem

Cosmo: just because he’s a dick, don’t mean he’s not got it from somewhere, or he wouldn’t get away with it

Amber: Nowhere’s perfect or fucked irreparably, you wish it was that cut and dry

Cosmo: I’m not the one who thinks I’m creating a utopian society

Cosmo: no one needs perfect, just not batshit harmful bullshit

Amber: Neither am I

Cosmo: Not you personally

Amber: So stop attacking me personally, get a 📢 and point it out of your window towards someone who really believes all the things you think are harmful bullshit

Cosmo: I’m not attacking you

Amber: You’re saying things I either have to agree or disagree with about my home and way of life that I’ve already had to spend a really long time defending or denouncing in exactly the same way

Cosmo: You don’t like it because it’s true

Cosmo: I can’t help that

Cosmo: but it’s exactly why there’s no point talking again

Amber: I can’t help that my parents like it there and really believe in things I don’t

Cosmo: Don’t they care what you want?

Amber: I go to school, we’ve stayed long enough for me to make friends, as far as they are concerned, I’m getting what I want

Cosmo: Is that all you want though?

Amber: it’s getting my own way more than a lot of my friends do, what 17 year old gets everything they want?

Cosmo: Parents should give a shit about their kid’s happiness

Cosmo: it’s not being a brat about wanting more money and a later curfew

Amber: I care about their happiness too

Cosmo: they aren’t meant to make that your problem

Amber: Putting me first and their own lives to the side would cause problems for all of us, if they’re miserable I’m not gonna be happy, and not expressing it wouldn’t mean it wasn’t still obvious

Cosmo: Are they happy?

Amber: Happier than they’ve been for years, my dad left his girlfriend and my mama has a new boyfriend, they’re both loving their jobs and the people they’ve met here who they aren’t dating too… I’d say they are

Cosmo: You’re scared they’ll want to leave again

Cosmo: or that place will get shut down and they’ll be no choice in it

Amber: They will or it will, what I’m afraid of is when it does I’ll make the choice to stay and they won’t

Cosmo: If they’d rather be helping other people than their own kid that’s fucked

Amber: I’m their 👶🏽 forever but not a child, they’d rather treat me like an adult

Cosmo: Whether you’re ready for that or not?

Amber: Some things you don’t ever feel ready for, but they have to happen anyway and when they do you’re almost always 😁 or at least slightly relieved it’s done

Cosmo: You aren’t old enough to be left anyway, whatever they’d rather do

Amber: An irrational fear for a while longer

Amber: I’m not bored enough for crystal healing

Cosmo: That’s not a thing

Cosmo: you’re taking the piss now

Amber: it’s not something that works, but it’s something that happens

Amber: often

Cosmo: I suppose I don’t even wanna know what that entails

Cosmo: if it’s not good enough for max boredom even

Amber: What are you doing? Now that you’re done making me question my entire life

Cosmo: I really weren’t

Cosmo: I know there’s fuck all you can do but there’s plenty actual adults there could and haven’t long before you showed

Cosmo: I need to go do my run

Cosmo: I’m behind schedule now

Amber: You haven’t really, don’t feel bad, it’s my turn again for putting you behind schedule

Cosmo: Inexcusable, really

Cosmo: If we’d have found a way for you to get back at him and/or get your money back we’d be further behind so win some lose some

Amber: I’m sorry x 9

Cosmo: I get it, I don’t deserve the sincerity of actually bothering to type it out

Cosmo: Call it even then?

Amber: I’d prefer to call us odd but okay

Cosmo: ‘course, got to keep it 👽 I know

Amber: Tempting fate slightly, unless you want to get abducted on your run

Cosmo: I was clearly after an invitation, yeah

Cosmo: I’m alright, tah, only one dickhead who looks like me will be showing

Amber: Is that my invite to a race? Because I don’t think I’d be able to beat you

Cosmo: Is that humility? Doesn’t seem like you

Cosmo: you’ve already been abducted yourself, obvs

Amber: Or shameless untrue flattery

Cosmo: Hmm

Cosmo: Possible, yeah

Cosmo: but you never would beat me so we’re at real delusion again

Amber: Distance or speed?

Cosmo: I have unfair advantages for both

Cosmo: I run up and down a field for 90 minutes a time, and I have about double the leg length you do

Amber: It’s really cute you think I’d let anything happen fairly when I could just cheat

Cosmo: There’s no point having any kind of competition if you don’t follow the rules

Cosmo: take your hollow victory then, see if it feels good

Amber: You’ve made me not want it now! 🥺

Cosmo: N’awh

Cosmo: right buzzkill, I know

Amber: Besides leg measuring, what do you do for fun? And don’t say run up and down a field for 90 minutes

Cosmo: Just what us footie lads are like, good clean fun, unlike rugby

Cosmo: what do you actually do, when you’re avoiding crystal healings?

Amber: The big 🚿 at the end can’t be what makes you happiest either, I don’t believe that’s true of anyone

Amber: other than shopping, I’m sure I do mostly the same as the rest of the girls you know

Cosmo: IDK I’m sure it makes the predatory coaches buzzing when we’re all lathered up 🧼

Cosmo: but shopping is all the girls I know do 😜

Cosmo: I’m the same, is your actual answer, what every 17 year old lad with some disposable income does

Amber: Great, I’ll need the healing to erase that visual…

Amber: It can’t be, because then I’ll have to feel sorry for you AND the girls you know, they’ll have other interests they’re avoiding telling you about, like I am

Amber: the boys I know our age definitely don’t seem like they do much of anything, besides get drunk and high, so there must be A LOT of other hobbies they’re keeping secret from me too

Cosmo: Maybe you’ve uncovered the truth there

Cosmo: Girls and boys don’t tell each other everything, or anything

Cosmo: Or we both know poor examples

Cosmo: Who’s to ever be sure

Amber: But now it’s been uncovered, either way, we can change it

Amber: I’ll go first, the childish faves I was keeping from you are swimming and dancing, because they make me sound about 9 years old

Cosmo: I don’t think so

Cosmo: depends on how you frame it, swimming is great cardio and underwater is a great place to think or not think as much as you need

Cosmo: dancing, likewise great cardio, and good for the soul, sure your lot would put it, mood-boosting for the rest of us

Cosmo: you sound very well-⚪️ed, if anything, not 👶

Amber: It’s your turn

Cosmo: alright, bossy

Cosmo: you already know I like football and I like to run

Cosmo: I like the gym too, swimming as well, actually

Cosmo: going out for meals, drinks, all that stuff

Amber: Nobody likes the gym, the effects and ego boost maybe

Cosmo: I do

Cosmo: it’s a building with workout equipment in, not a torture chamber

Cosmo: and the one at the academy is really good

Amber: you like how much you can 🏋🏽‍♂️ and having your friends to compete against

Cosmo: is that a question or an assumption

Amber: I’m changing it to a question because you caught me in an assumption, which I hate, so ?

Cosmo: 😏

Cosmo: competition is a good motivator, so is seeing progress in your abilities, sure

Cosmo: exercise makes you feel better, whatever form you like doing it in, it’s that simple

Amber: I’m not gonna lie and pretend I do yoga for any other reason than how flexible I am as a result, I guess we finally agree on something, even if it is something shallow

Cosmo: It’s not shallow

Cosmo: giving a shit about your body and your health isn’t just because looking good is nice, it also feels better

Amber: but if I cared about my health there are vices I’ve picked up that I wouldn’t have and things I wouldn’t put into my body which I do, you’re on a journey and I’m doing the occasional day trip

Cosmo: Very hippie-approved

Cosmo: songs about it and everything, right

Cosmo: I do drink, I just try not to get wasted

Cosmo: it’d be unsociable not to at all

Amber: You’d look like a 👽 and you’d have to move somewhere that isn’t Dublin

Cosmo: And change my occupation

Amber: drastic avoidance tactic to stop me from meeting your dad or watching you play

Cosmo: 😂 Not all about you, hippie

Amber: That’s the rudest thing you’ve said to me so far!

Cosmo: And WAGs are meant to be high-maintenance…

Amber: meaning they put time and effort into their appearance, which you just applauded as a virtue in yourself

Cosmo: No, meaning you have to put a lot of effort in to maintain the relationship

Cosmo: but it was a joke before you get all soapbox about it

Amber: a joke I’m not gonna let you get away with making, boy

Amber: but if we need to talk about anything it’s that you don’t think all relationships require a lot of time and effort

Cosmo: I didn’t, it’s a joke that’s made, by people in general

Cosmo: it’s more 🤑🤩 maintenance people are implying, not 🥰😘

Amber: You repeated it, like it’s funny or true, or both

Amber: after I told you I hate assumptions, and stereotypes aren’t any different

Cosmo: They’re inevitable and you’ve made loads about me, my friends and my family so

Cosmo: that sounds like your problem

Amber: The difference is, I’m trying to not and I apologised when I did, you’re doubling down

Cosmo: I’m not doubling down because it’s a joke, which means I didn’t mean it in the first place

Cosmo: You did and that’s why you’re mad

Amber: Why are you like this?

Cosmo: Like what?

Amber: 2 seconds away from an argument at ALL times

Cosmo: You’ve started every one

Cosmo: People like you reckon you can say whatever bullshit you want like you’re so knowing and zen and then I’m the arsehole for not just letting you chat shit on me

Amber: You keep saying people like me, when I’m obviously not like that

Amber: zen or all knowing

Cosmo: I said it was bullshit

Cosmo: It’s what you wanna project

Cosmo: that you’ve got it figured out, which is why you live such a mental way of life, because it’s actually the RIGHT way of life and we’re all stupid and brainwashed, not yous

Cosmo: ⭐️

Amber: I told you why I live there and that I don’t believe in it

Amber: using ⭐️ against me is bullshit

Cosmo: Maybe you can’t help it

Cosmo: you don’t even know you’re doing it

Amber: Do you know you’re being a fucking asshole?

Cosmo: Yeah

Cosmo: do you?

Amber: now I do

Amber: It’s not an intention, but you’re right, sometimes I open my mouth to speak and either of my parents come out

Cosmo: I know the feeling

Cosmo: maybe that’s inevitable too

Cosmo: how individual are any of us really, we’re all just a mess of the people we know

Amber: Better not be! Or I’ve really wasted years fighting to think for myself, carving out compromises to end up not even wanting them

Cosmo: Won’t say good luck with that but

Cosmo: it’s a nice thought, anyway

Amber: A nicer thought than becoming them, living like this forever and being happy with that

Cosmo: What do you want to do?

Amber: It’s stupid

Amber: but I wanna eat 🍕 and buy a new 👗 to wear out somewhere and come home and sleep in a 🛏 on my own or with the same fucking person

Cosmo: That isn’t stupid

Cosmo: I think that’s what a lot of people want

Cosmo: Some variation of, when it comes down to it

Amber: It’s what my school friends already have, that’s why it’s stupid, because I shouldn’t have to fight for it, it’s stupid because they think I have the type of freedom they daydream about

Cosmo: Maybe you do have things they don’t have but want

Cosmo: maybe they’re not as close to their parents, or they’re an only-child who would kill for all the people around

Cosmo: or maybe some people are lucky from the start and some have to make their own

Amber: maybe x 9

Cosmo: If you’re keeping count

Cosmo: You’ll be able to get all those things

Amber: Not for a while, but one day, maybe

Amber: because if I’m keeping count that’s only 4

Cosmo: There’s time for a few more

Amber: If you introduce me to the girls you know who do nothing but shop, I could get a new 👗 in no time, right?

Cosmo: Or you could go with your own friends

Cosmo: the non-commune ones, that won’t cry at a plastic bag

Amber: Maybe… if I hadn’t had the fast fashion rant at them all, I don’t even know I’m doing it, I told you you’d got that right

Cosmo: Ah

Cosmo: I see

Cosmo: I could take you if you want

Cosmo: you’ll have to take cover in the rails if you see one of them coming

Amber: I don’t wanna mess up your schedule again, you’ll have to fit me in when it suits you, not when I’m pouting

Cosmo: Right, so when are you not pouting? 🤔

Amber: When you stop being mean to me

Amber: maybe

Cosmo: Good use of a maybe

Cosmo: How about Saturday lunchtime

Cosmo: I have to eat, after-all

Amber: Teeth off me and my 👗

Cosmo: Not a cannibal

Cosmo: or a moth?

Cosmo: I’m just saying, that’s a free hour, if you’re worried about my schedule

Amber: okay, 1 shop, I promise

Amber: less than an hour

Cosmo: I’ll take that as a maybe

Cosmo: I’m not going to put you on a timer, like

Cosmo: Saturdays are pretty flexible and you’re going to wanna take time to enjoy yourself and all

Amber: You don’t wanna race me, I know

Cosmo: You don’t wanna cheat no more

Cosmo: maybe

Amber: I won’t

Cosmo: Alright

Cosmo: I still don’t wanna make you sad

Amber: I’m not gonna cry because you take 🥇

Cosmo: As long as that’s a promise

Amber: it is, maybe I didn’t know anything about ⚽️ before today but I understand sportsmanship`

Cosmo: What shops do you want to go to?

Amber: I was kinda hoping you’d know the answer

Cosmo: I do, I’ve got you covered then

Cosmo: Pick you up [time]

Amber: from where?

Cosmo: There’s a phonebox outside there, right? Go there

Amber: 🦸🏽

Cosmo: I’ll look for the 🤓 then

Amber: When you asked me what I wanted to do, my first thought was my homework

Cosmo: Serious?

Amber: I have a LOT and it’s really hard to concentrate here

Cosmo: You remember what window is actually his?

Cosmo: ‘cos he’s never in so

Cosmo: You could

Cosmo: as long as you don’t come in the rest of the house, my room included

Amber: Are you serious?

Cosmo: It isn’t my room

Cosmo: just keep to sociable hours, why not

Cosmo: you said homework, not wild party

Amber: thanks

Amber: I’m almost as speechless as I was when you were telling me to leave

Cosmo: I know

Cosmo: I’m not saying I didn’t say some harsh things

Cosmo: It’s been weird but there’s no reason you can’t have somewhere quiet

Cosmo: and apart from me and him, no one really comes up to the first floor much

Amber: weirder than my usual daily life deserves every ⭐️ my dad has

Amber: and so do you, for this and everything else you’ve helped me with

Cosmo: Nah, it’s nothing

Cosmo: not my finest hour, actually

Cosmo: but it’s alright

Amber: it’s not nothing, it’s definitely something

Cosmo: We’re even

Cosmo: it wasn’t all ⭐️s so

Amber: plenty of it was

Cosmo: That don’t make it alright

Cosmo: I don’t make it a habit of being a fucking asshole, believe it or not

Amber: Neither do I

Amber: we’re even

Cosmo: 👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍

Amber: that’s a weird visual, thanks for it

Cosmo: You’re welcome for the artistic inspiration, like

Amber: if your idea is that your teammate bans me from matches too, there are gonna be easier ways than encouraging me to show up with 9 thumb shaped cardboard signs…

Cosmo: My theoretical teammate

Cosmo: That you ain’t gonna meet

Amber: Yes, him

Cosmo: 😏

Amber: The entire squad can’t all have pushy parents and intense girlfriends

Amber: ⚽⭐🏆🥂🤵

Cosmo: You’re doubling down on the whole stalker thing then, yeah

Amber: The positives speak for themselves

Cosmo: Maybe you’ll be offered a better place to do your homework

Amber: for when you’re spending your weekends in a better postcode and Dash’s room’ll have to be off-limits unless I make no noise and write my essays in the dark

Cosmo: Of course

Cosmo: unless you really wanna explain wtf you’re doing to my nan

Amber: Is the 🍊 thing real? To win over your friends, not your grandma, necessarily

Amber: I’d go for a different fruit in that case

Cosmo: It’s more of a thing when you’re a kid but it’s not not a thing

Cosmo: And fruit baskets too, very retro

Amber: okay, there’s my in

Amber: using the wonky ones would help my cause if we’re pretending to your nan I’m in that dire need of sanctuary, but find out her favourites, if she’s not gonna fall for the SOS

Cosmo: Would you rather not be incognito

Cosmo: She might think you’re Dash’s girlfriend or something

Amber: It wouldn’t take long to correct the assumption, but I only would if I had to, like, if she’s suddenly scared she’s living somewhere haunted

Cosmo: Wonky veg at the ready 👍

Amber: Always

Amber: but I’m actually excellent at hiding, which makes me sound how old? 3 maybe

Cosmo: It makes you sound deluded, definitely

Cosmo: I found you well easy

Amber: Because I wanted you to

Cosmo: Not me

Amber: yes you, Dash enters a room very differently, I knew it wasn’t him

Cosmo: You didn’t know me, you couldn’t want me to

Amber: You’ve heard of curiosity, right? I didn’t have to know you to want to find out who you were

Cosmo: I’ve not got 9 lives 🐈

Amber: that you know of

Cosmo: You think that’s a theory to test?

Amber: I’m not dangerous, remember

Cosmo: Allegedly

Amber: You can allegedly run away at the speed of light and even though you haven’t bragged about it, could probably also pick me up and throw me out 💪🏽⭐️

Cosmo: I’m not going to do that

Amber: I’m not a test

Cosmo: Debatable

Amber: Today’s events, maybe, but that isn’t what you should define me by

Cosmo: It’s okay, I won’t

Cosmo: we said we were even, I meant it

Amber: make your mind up on Saturday when I test your patience by trying on every dress I like and ask you what you think

Cosmo: That’s your prerogative

Cosmo: delegated to the bench with the other men

Amber: 🥼👖👟👓 I know you have the money to get a new outfit too because you were willing to give it to me twice

Cosmo: I might

Amber: I won’t tell you what I think if that’s what’s putting you off 😶

Cosmo: I think I can handle your fashion critiques 🤣

Amber: Because I don’t have any fashion sense or because yours is ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ and above criticism?

Cosmo: We have different styles

Cosmo: I’m not going to dress like a stoner, you’re not gonna dress like a WAG

Amber: Like a stoner? Really?

Cosmo: I went for the male and female equivalents

Cosmo: so you can’t pout

Amber: Yes I can, you’ve seen me in 1 outfit, which I wore to climb through a window

Cosmo: And I ain’t said nothing bad about it

Amber: there’s nothing complimentary in the tone of us having different styles when you follow it up with I’m not gonna dress like you

Cosmo: Are you going to get your own footie strip? No

Cosmo: It wasn’t an insult, not towards you

Amber: If they weren’t ridiculously expensive, I would, if only because it would annoy you now

Cosmo: Now that sounds 👶

Amber: it’d be worth it to see your face

Cosmo: 🙄😏

Amber: Besides, we’re the same age, I don’t have anything to prove

Cosmo: Am I a test?

Amber: you’re a boy I wanna know, it’d put me to the test if you hadn’t said no already

Cosmo: Somehow I doubt that’s ever been a challenge for you

Amber: I don’t see it as a challenge, no means no, and if you change your own mind, it means you’re open to it and there’s no obstacles to get over

Cosmo: A PC response but a fair one

Amber: I can’t complain when boys take my no for a maybe if I do the same, and I don’t like it, so keeping my mouth shut would be hard

Cosmo: Your mind just jumps to some weird places

Cosmo: I just said we’d make no sense as friends

Amber: That’s your mind leapfrogging to the strangest possible place

Amber: thinking all your friends have to be like you

Cosmo: It’s easier

Cosmo: like you and your school friends, you already put your foot in it

Cosmo: that doesn’t happen when you’re the same

Amber: Nothing happens when you’re the same, nothing ever changes

Cosmo: You want things to change for you, it makes sense for you

Amber: why don’t you?

Cosmo: Why would I?

Cosmo: I’m set up in ways people would kill for

Amber: Why wouldn’t you, even if you love everything that’s happening in your life right now, change can still be good

Cosmo: I’m not anti change

Cosmo: as long as it’s in the right direction

Amber: and I’m the wrong direction?

Cosmo: No, you’re like

Cosmo: a completely different path

Cosmo: we run parallel

Amber: I’m not gonna force you down any paths

Cosmo: I know

Cosmo: and I know it’s rude

Cosmo: but it’d be ruder to waste your time, I think

Cosmo: and I don’t want to do that

Amber: What do you wanna do?

Cosmo: I don’t know

Amber: I can go by myself on Saturday, to make things easier

Cosmo: There’s no need

Cosmo: It’s not like we need to be besties to do that

Amber: besties

Amber: maybe if we were 👶🏽

Cosmo: Well exactly, you get my point

Cosmo: we can just

Cosmo: be aware of each other

Amber: Thanks for not asking me to become unaware of you

Cosmo: Be unfair of me to ask when I won’t

Amber: and when you hate when I pout

Cosmo: That too

Amber: you’d especially hate being at school with me, pouting’s all I do

Cosmo: I thought you liked it? 🤓

Amber: I like learning new things, but not how many new things there are that I have to, what feels like all the time

Amber: progress doesn’t just apply to fitness, I wanna see some with this

Cosmo: That’s understandable

Cosmo: It’s a lot, leavers cert

Cosmo: Do you get any help or whatever?

Amber: Extra work whenever I ask for it, but none of the teachers are expecting me to still be here by the time we take exams, which means I’m another school’s problem or success story, and that could be a different country, so they aren’t gonna work hard to get me through leavers cert, are they?

Cosmo: No, I guess not

Cosmo: They should but you’re right they probably won’t

Cosmo: Do you think you’ll be here?

Amber: No, we’ve been here for months already

Cosmo: If you was leaving you’d be gone already, like

Cosmo: Maybe get another student to tutor you

Cosmo: they’re better than teachers ‘cos they’ll let you know what you actually need to know to do well on the tests

Amber: We’re not leaving while my parents are happy and feel needed but nobody at the commune wants summer schooling and my dad will get restless

Amber: but that’s a good idea while I am, I’ll find someone

Cosmo: I’m not smart enough or I would

Cosmo: I just did what I had to to coast by but it’s not the focus

Amber: You don’t have the time, boy

Cosmo: True

Cosmo: Speaking of

Amber: Oh sorry! 🤓 rant over

Cosmo: You’re alright, I need to actually get a decent workout in now though or it doesn’t really count

Cosmo: Saturday though, yeah

Amber: I’ll be at the phonebox at [just before whatever time he said]

Cosmo: 👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍👍

Cosmo: You’ll remember what I look like and not get in a random car, right?

Amber: I’m not a goldfish

Amber: and if I did forget I’d stalk your 🏋🏽📷

Cosmo: Oh right, I forgot you were a dedicated creeper

Amber: I wouldn’t be 😠 if you did

Cosmo: Too bad 😏

Amber: goodbye x 9

Cosmo: 👋

1 note · View note

suca-loca · 4 years ago

Text

the wolf always blames the food chain.

Pairing: Demus, Intruality /kinda, but not really, let me know if I should remove the Intruality one/

Warnings: Gore, murder, death, eating human beings, ghouls, cursing, lewd language, morally gray!Janus, morally gray!Remus

Authors note: Inspired by the anime Tokyo Ghoul. You don’t really need background knowledge of the show to read this, but it would be best to search up “Ghoul, Tokyo Ghoul” to get a better understanding of what a kagune is and to see what a ghoul’s form looks like.

Summary: Patton doesn’t mean to kill her as much as he doesn’t mean to get caught.

——

“I’m sorry,” Patton sobs, spit and bits of human liver coming from his mouth more than words do. “I’m so so sorry, Remus.”

He holds her insides in his hands, but it is he who feels cracked open. The sins he’s worked so hard to keep at bay strewn out and about and on the walls for all the world to see. Because even when there’s a heart throbbing against his palm - not really pulsating at all, but moving so lifelike from how hard he shakes - he always ends up here. Making it about himself.

Remus inhales, a juxtapose to the very still chest merely a few feet away. “You’re a ghoul.”

He says it so calmly. Like he expected to walk into this scene after finishing a night shift at the hospital. As if this isn’t the first time he’s realized his roommate isn’t human.

Patton glances at the broken body sprawled between his legs. At the woman who now looks more like a ragged doll than the neighbor who helped carry his groceries just a day before. And then he stares at his kagune, bright and blue and solid, but with the fluidity of a river, cocooning itself between the split of skin on her stomach, stretching the wound more and more until the sound of blood oozing onto the living room carpet roars like a waterfall.

He looks up at his roommate, sclera coated in black instead of white and irises a shade lighter than the heavy red dripping from Patton’s chin. “I don’t wanna be.

“I want to be forgiven.” Patton wipes away the snot that drips from his nose, the tears that slide down his cheeks, unaware of the smears of blood he leaves in their place.“I want to be good. So, please, don’t turn me in.”

Remus grins. Like a monster under the bed would. Like Patton should. “Liar.”

Patton flinches back, more so from the shock than the accusation. This is not the reaction of a man terrified for his life. This is a man at the dealers’ table, holding the winning cards and knows it. “I’m not a liar! Who would choose this life? Having to constantly look over my shoulder, outcasted by the world, the killings - ”

“The power.” Remus cuts in.

Something snarls in Patton’s gut. “I don’t care for that.”

“Liiiiiiiiiaaaaar.”

“I am not a liar!” The thing inside him raises its hackles, pacing slowly. He releases a sob. “Lying is wrong!”

Remus laughs. Somehow a more sickening sound than the squelch coming from Patton’s kagune ripping itself free from the girl’s abdomen. “Nice to know the ghoul I caught red-handed - literally red-handed - has a good sense of morality. What’s next? You’re waiting for marriage? Haven’t even touched yourself yet to preserve some purity bullshit?”

“It’s because I’m a ghoul I’m so strict on myself about lying!” Patton cries. “The horrible things I’ve done to survive - ”

And like a drunk driver who thinks nothing can go wrong, Patton sees headlights in the shape of familiar amber eyes and there’s no time to step on the brakes before everything falls away. Please, she bawls, barely able to string the vowels together as easily as Patton can string her large intestine along and along and along and along. Please don’t do this.

Patton avoids looking at the crumpled body he towers over. “Why bother with the little sins when you’re doing the big ones?”

“Sins?” Remus’ eyes flicker to the cross around Patton’s neck. It hits Patton then that Remus’ gaze has been locked in on him this whole time, with the exception of the ten seconds he stared at the corpse when he first walked in. Patton should be glad the attention is gone, so why does he wish for it back? “Even after all this, you believe there’s a God? That you earned your way to the pearly gates despite all the lives you’ve fucked enough times over to make your bitch?”

Patton can’t help but instinctively clutch the jewelry. “Belief is all I have. I don’t deserve a place in heaven, but the least I can do is try to do better in other ways to make up for the hurt I’ve caused. That has to count for something.” When he lets go he realizes his cross is now covered in blood. “It has to.”

Remus steps closer, daring to enter the pool of blood that Patton was foolish enough to believe acted as a barrier, a warning. A threat.

“I can’t believe this shit I’m hearing! Do you mean to tell me murder cancels out because you tipped the pizza delivery guy more than twenty percent?!” Remus is shrieking now. He’s a city wire, spitting rogue sparks at Patton’s skin. “You don’t get to repent when you’re just going to do it again! There’s no point! As pointless as the creation made by your God where the left testicle hangs lower than the right one!”

Patton jumps to his feet, but it isn’t solid ground he stands on. The floor is slipping beneath him, with nowhere stable to go to.

“The point is to be a good person! I don’t get to just stop, Remus! I have to eat! I didn’t even let her in with the intent to kill her! I let her in because she wanted to borrow eggs and I didn’t realize she cut herself on something until I opened the door and smelled the blood!”

His hunger shrieks at the door because she’s there too. Two creatures as alive as the other. But this is a gladiator fight. The door shuts. He places his bets.

He didn’t know not to open the door, but he knew better than to close it.

Patton expects his voice to shake. He nearly flinches when what comes out is a deep rasp from the back of his throat. “I didn’t want to kill her. I… I just get so hungry.”

A grin slides over Remus’ face, as direct and chilling as a hammer to the skull, and the thought that comes next hits Patton just as hard.

He needs to get out of this mess the same way he got in it.

“The wolf always blames the food chain,” the hammer says, and Patton breaks.

The thing in Patton’s gut snaps its jaw, then strikes.

His kagune reacts first, shoving Remus to the wall so hard an audible crack whips through the air. His legs comprehend the danger - the thrill - right after, seemingly gliding over the floor from how fast he moves. By the time the human has opened his eyes his hands are pinned against his head and Patton’s kagune hovers just a centimeter above the center of his chest.

All done in less than three seconds. A testament to how inhuman Patton is, and yet he’s forced to wear their skin.

“I’m a good person.” His breath ghosts over Remus’ lips. Is it wrong he wonders if it tickles or stings?

Remus smirks.

Patton hopes it’s both.

“What you are,” Remus says, tilting his head to the right so that his cheek brushes against Patton’s forearm, smiling as if he isn’t the rodent in this mouse and cat game, “is a beast.”

Color spreads to Patton’s cheeks, sitting there like it has a weight of its own, reminding him of how wrong this is. How wrong he and Remus are, whether separate or together.

“There’s a wolf in you, pacing for the next chase. The poor thing’s been without a pack for so long,” Remus says softly. If Patton closes his eyes, he can almost feel Remus’ hands trailing up and down his stomach, softly, attentively - dare he say- adoringly, trying to find the lump of the wolf. Nails softly dragging before Remus’ fingers rest in between the curve of fat that ends where his hips start.

Perhaps it’s the thought of someone wanting to touch him willingly, wantingly, outside of those who hit or scratch or slap when he’s trying to fill his stomach for the day, that keeps the memories of why he’s been alone so long at bay. Better to focus on Remus’ half-lidded eyes than the day he was hidden under the floorboards by his parents at nine-years-old moments before ghoul investigators kicked down the door.

“How much longer do I have to rile you up before I can get you to face me as who you truly are?” Remus asks, slightly purring.

Kill him.

Patton should. Should kiss him and shove his tongue through the gap he always considered adorable before tearing out the teeth Remus still has left. Should kiss the scar under his chin that Patton bandaged after a bar fight went wrong and replace it with a newer, deeper, and unhealable one. Should kiss the freckles scattered across his cheeks like a galaxy and use the constellations to find out what order he should rip them out in.

Kiss him kill him kiss him kill him kiss him kill him kiss him kill him kiss him kill -

Remus turns his head slightly to, as if reading Patton’s mind, brush his lips against Patton’s forearms. “Not much longer, it seems,” Remus hums.

A gasp leaves Patton’s mouth. He steps back immediately, forearm burning.

But that’s not the only thing that burns.

“How dare you.” He spits, eyes wild, and kagune flickering like a hungry tongue. “Do not speak as if you know me when you have no idea what it means to be born wrong.”

At that response, anger flares up in Remus’ eyes. Patton almost sighs in relief when he sees it. It’s both relieving and terrifying to see Remus read him so clearly while Patton has no idea what’s going on in Remus’ playground of a brain.

And then he realizes he was a fool to think he understood Remus at all because a second later the human pulls off his shirt.

“Remus!” Patton stutters, face burning such an intense color of pink it makes up for the devoid of color on the corpses’ body at his feet. Before he can embarrass himself further with a failed attempt at a coherent sentence, Remus turns around and Patton’s eyes - curse his dumb eyes - don’t look away.

An unwelcome jolt of desire shoots through him, but it is instantly squashed when he realizes what he’s really supposed to be looking at. Multiple slashes, old, deep, and that look to be caused at the hands of a wooden ruler, vertically run along Remus’ back.

“You’re right. I wasn’t born wrong.” Remus looks over his shoulder, voice losing the edge of madness that makes him so him. “But my parents thought differently. So I understand the pain and hurt that comes with it.”

Remus throws the shirt aside and begins stalking towards him, somehow still talking in the present while Patton is stuck in the six seconds before when he realized Remus also has freckles on his back. “I could tell right away that you were like me. Deceiving others. Deceiving yourself. I just didn’t know why, so I promised myself not to say anything until I had all the facts. For the first fourteen years of my life, I tried to fit in the mold my parents made for me before I realized this isn’t a Cinderella story where the shoe fucking fits in the end. My mother thought the scars on my back were punishment for playing the note of a violin incorrectly. She couldn’t be more wrong. It was a punishment for lying to myself for so long. It came to me then that I can’t be what I’m not. I can’t lie to myself or others anymore.”

Patton doesn’t move away as Remus stops before him with the confidence of a man who didn’t just step over a dead body, too busy being pulled under by unending tides every time he gets too close to shore.

For a long time, he told himself lying was not as easy to stomach as mankind. And yet it’s all he’s ever done. All he knows. He rips his roots out from one life to the next. Created new identities whenever the police got too close to the truth. Learned to turn around when someone’s order got called out. He had that name once. He had them all. A coffee mocha for the Dylan that was friends with a boy who had purple hair and skin so pale Dylan thought bleeding would do him good. Four cheese empanadas for Barry, who coincidentally met a man named Logan Berry, who didn’t like him all that much but would punch in a discount for him, so Barry would leave a nice tip because that’s what nice people did and he wanted to be like those people. Not the wolf in sheep’s clothing.

When he resurfaced from the floorboards that day he was reborn amongst the cheers and applause of his neighbors congratulating the ghoul investigators for freeing the world from two evils. With his parents’ fresh blood squishing underneath his shoes as he made his escape out the back a horrible thought came to him.

The world thought him better off not being born at all.

Is that what would happen when death inevitably claimed him? No one to wail or grieve to prove he was loved. Not even a grave. His existence was despised. His death was cause for celebration.

And what was a nine-year-old to do with that information but change?

He is drowning. He can’t even scream unless he wants to make the death more painful. Maybe he should. Self-destruction is a very human thing.

Remus’ cups the ghoul’s face in his hands. A life raft Patton instantly clings to.

“And that’s the difference between you and me,” Remus says, voice the gentlest it can be with the edge of permanent madness laced around his tongue. “This goody two shoes people pleasure you play? It’s not you. It never was. So cut the bullshit. You are so much better than that. You always were. Live for yourself, not for others.”

Patton holds onto Remus’ hands, afraid once it leaves - because everyone always leaves - he’ll be made much emptier without it. He should not be feeling these things, least of all for this man, this human, when the air around him crackles with such a wrongness that it out wins Patton’s. No, worse. Better. It compliments his.

If she hadn’t been nice, hadn’t been so her, she wouldn’t have helped Patton carry his groceries. And so she wouldn’t have known he had a batch of plentiful eggs to lend after realizing she had none to make the brownies for her nieces’ upcoming birthday. She’s on the walls, on the carpet, on the couch, on his clothes, because she was what the world took advantage of: kind.

And that is why creatures like Patton survive. You do not make company with survivors and expect to leave in one piece.

He’s at the shore now. But he’s not the same man who went into the water. He has been homesick for a person he could never be.

“Why are you telling me this?” Patton asks, while also wondering what could possibly be, in the already long list of things, more wrong with him that he finds the calluses on Remus’ hands make his touch more comforting than it already was.

Remus presses their foreheads together. “Because I want you to know you don’t need to hide who you are around me. Ghoul or something else. You’re not alone anymore.”��

Patton doesn’t know what it means that his kagune, a literal weapon of destruction, tentatively lingers around Remus’ waist wanting to wrap around it in a mockery of a hug. Or how he feels about his soulless eyes, meant to strike horror and fear into the hearts of his food, soften as it drinks up the dimples on Remus’ face and the crook of his nose.

He is saved from thinking too much about it when Remus speaks again.

“You’re beautiful.”

A beat of silence. At least, Patton thinks there’s one, the only beat he hears is the erratic beating of his heart against his chest.

“You… you can’t believe that” is what Patton finally says. Eyes wide and the room suddenly too hot and the smell of her is starting to fill up the room which is definitely what’s keeping him from thinking clearly, even though the smell of rotting flesh is not new to him at all.

Remus raises an eyebrow. “Well, it seems you missed the conversation we just had about not lying for others, so I guess I’ll have to start from the beginning. Ahem, you’re a ghoul - ”

“You’re insane.” Patton rolls his eyes, unable to stop the totally unnoticeable and not at all loud snort that escapes a second later. He nearly flinches a second later when he realizes how mean it could come across. Patton never said anything mean. Who is he now? Is this another mask or is the real him slowly peeking through?

Remus smiles. “And so are you. Let’s lose our minds together and drive off a cliff like Thelma and Louise.”

It isn’t a nice smile. Too much red gums and canine teeth, not sharp at all but giving off the impression that they should be. Everything about this human is sharp in the most troubling way. And yet, although it wasn’t the prettiest thing to look at, that doesn’t mean it didn’t make Patton feel something.

He’s pretty sure it’s the first real thing he’s felt in a long time.

With the last of his reserve crumbling away, he wraps his kagune around Remus and allows himself to indulge in the moment by closing his eyes. His hands pressed against the edge of his folded legs, pinky outstretched to lightly brush against Remus’ knee. It’s the smallest of contact, still, the pad of that same finger buzzes and sizzles in the most delicious way.

“All the prettiest flowers have thorns,” Remus speaks, an earnest look in his eyes that almost undoes the chords of chaos that make him up. “Flowers don’t cry when they prick someone’s thumb. So why should you? We are what we do to survive. You can either take accountability for your actions or let the shame eat you as easily as you eat others. The choice is yours, but dammit - ”

Remus pulls back slightly to get a good look at Patton’s face. There is an intensity and purpose in his body so rigid Patton fears he’ll break apart.

“I want you to choose to not only survive but to live, Patton.”

Patton stills, mouth suddenly dry. “... That’s not my name.”

Remus blinks. “Record scratch?”

“Patton was a name I gave myself not too long ago,” the ghoul forces out. “I’ve had others. As fake as the one I have now. My real name…” He takes a deep breath, feeling the water of the crashing tides lick at his heels, ready to pull him back in. “My real name is Janus.”

It goes quiet.

It can’t be an eternity, but that’s what it feels like to Pa - no, to Janus. If it’s weird on his own tongue, then what could it possibly feel like to Remus? Is this where Janus has crossed the line? A fake name somehow more of a deal-breaker than eating mankind?

His heart lurches at having had a taste of something… something he can’t really put his finger on, but he knows it’s something more, only to have it pulled out from underneath him. Will the pain in his heart stop if he rips it out? If that was what made this horrible emotion, this terrifying and numb feeling of loss to something that he shouldn’t have allowed to be his in the first place, stop he’d gladly do it.

Then, because Remus is full of surprises, Janus is pulled by the hem of his shirt into a kiss.

The kiss is anything but quiet. The kind of smooch you hear in some trashy, cheap porn production from a store that would allow a seven-year-old to walk out with. Remus shouldn’t be making out with him like this. Not when the crust of dried blood still lingers on Janus’ lips. Or when the stench of his latest kill sticks to him so thick his own kagune couldn’t pierce through it.

Yet Remus shows no sign of stopping.

Remus bites Janus’ lower lip and oh. Stars aren’t normally this close to the earth, right? Because that’s all Janus sees. In an instant his hands are gripping at Remus’ waist, holding on for dear life as Remus moves on to using his tongue for something other than giving Janus a harsh - but much needed - reality check.

When Remus pulls back, Janus unconsciously brings his hands to his lips, as if the action will somehow replay the moment. How is it that someone so human can unravel a monster such as himself so easily as breathing?

“Janus,” Remus says in awe, like his name consists of all the most heavenly sounds in a single word. Janus could listen to Remus say his name for eternity.

“Janus, Janus, Janus, Janus. I love it! I've never met someone who has a name with the word anu - ”

”We’re pronouncing it Ja-nice from now on, ” Janus says, immediately snapped out of daydream mode.

Remus pouts. ”Fine. You're no fun.”

”Am I?” Janus blurts out before he can stop himself.

There is so much he doesn’t know about himself. Where does he even begin to piece together who he really is?

Remus comfortingly squeezes Janus’ hand. ”Don't worry. We’ll find out. Together.”

Janus allows a small smile to slip on his face. He may not know who he is, but he knows what he wants.

“I’d like that.”

The two get to their feet, now that the moment has passed they are acutely aware of the underlying problem in the room.

“So, what are you going to do with the rest of the body?” Remus asks, approaching it to poke it with the front of his boot.

“Eat it, of course. I’m still terribly hungry.”

Remus whirls around immediately, a glint in his eyes similar to the ones found in kids wandering around Disneyland. “Can I watch?”

Obviously, Janus should be disgusted. Instead, a small blush coats his cheeks and he finds himself star-struck at the sight of the cute gap in Remus’ lopsided grin.

“Oh,” Janus purrs, already rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, “please do.”

#Sanders Sides #Remus #Janus #Patton #?#kinda???#let me know if I should remove the Patton tag #because I have no idea if this technically counts #demus #dukexceit #brief intruality

15 notes · View notes

heartofsnark · 5 years ago

Text

This Is Love (Chapter Two: Lukewarm Welcomes

Notes: Well...I was planning on posting this three days ago....but instead i vanished from the internet for a bit, a nice quarantine mental health crisis as i went into the weekend, we love that.

Word Count: 11,557

Chapter Warnings: Cursing, anti-cop dialogue, harassment, implications of domestic/family violence

For chapter one and the warnings about this fics overarching themes, please click here!

A little bell chimes over head as Dahlia steps into the registration building for the Moonflower Trailer Park, there’s little racks of magazines, pamphlets, and maps of tourist attractions. A young girl is at the desk, talking on the phone with someone as Dahlia tries to preoccupy herself with looking through things.

A plain white pamphlet draws her eye, the simplicity of it standing out among the vividly colored ones. It’s stark white with that strange cross symbol, from the signs and book, like sunbeams coming from the center of it, black text above the symbol says, ‘Eden’s Gate’ and text below it says, ‘We Love You’.

Before she can flip it open, the woman at the registration desk hangs up, calling her over with a “Miss?”

“I’m Hale, we talked on the phone, I’m here to rent a trailer.”

The woman’s eyes flicker down to the pamphlet in her hand and her nose wrinkles like she’s smelled something awful.

“You ain’t no peggie, are you?”

“A peggie?”

“Oh, shit, you really are new here, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, this was in one of your racks.”

“Damn it, I told them to stop unloading their shit here. Look, I don’t wanna scare you away from Hope County, but the peggies are fucknuts, steer clear of them.”

“They dangerous?”

“No more than most of us, but they’re major prudes and buzzkills. Like, think Jesus is gonna firebomb my ass for cumming, type buzzkills.”

“Oh, that…sucks.” She has no idea where this woman is coming to that a religious group would think she deserves hell for it, but if the woman says they’re not dangerous, it’s not really any of her business, she really just wants her trailer.

“C’mon, I’ll show you the trailer and we’ll get everything set up.”

The trailer park isn’t huge, RVs and regular trailers all over it, a little playground in the middle for the resident’s kids with a slide, swings, and a little pool. A trailer with a diner inside of it, advertising bingo, and a little station filled with washing machines and dryers. None of the trailers outfitted with them. It’s a single wide with a little porch, nothing fancy; a living room, bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen. All she needs, nothing seems damaged or out of place.

“Looks, good to me.”

“Alrighty, we’ll get your down payment and registration settled, then you can have the keys and move in whenever you feel.”

“It’ll be a bit before I move in officially,” Dahlia tells her as they step outside the trailer, a few people bustling around

“Why��s that?”

“I’m coming all the way from Louisiana, still gotta get my shit moved in.”

The woman whistles, eyes wide.

“Hell of a move, but I tell you, you won’t find anywhere as beautiful as Hope County.”

“I’m excited.”

“Hey, Darcy, we got someone new coming in?” A woman asks, holding a kid on her hip, looking Dahlia up and down.

“Yeah, we’re just getting her squared away.”

“I’m Ruth, it’s always nice to see a new face.”

“Thanks,” Dahlia awkwardly scratches the back of her head, “I, uh, really appreciate the warm welcome.”

People aren’t her strong suit, she just never feels like she knows what to say, so she’d rather not say anything.

“Shy girl, don’t worry we’ll knock that out of you, real quick. We’re like a big ole family here at the Moonflower.”

“I’ll do my best not to get in the way.”

“Pfft, fuck that, you better be out here getting piss faced with everyone else when the Boshaw’s throw their next barbecue.”

“They’ll really find any excuse to get drunk, won’t they?” Darcy laughs, running a hand through her dark pixie cut.

“I don’t even know why they still let Sharky in here, dude got banned from renting, but can still show up, do his laundry and get drunk, makes no damn sense.”

“Y’know damn well, my mom and dad don’t have the heart to ban him completely.”

“Yeah, yeah, but if he sets my trailer on fire again, we’re gonna be having another chat,” the toddler squirms, trying to break away for something, “someone is getting fussy, I’ll see ya around, stranger.”

Dahlia waves goodbye to Ruth, a smile playing at her lips. The trailer park definitely seems to be a bit on the chaotic side from the sounds of it, but the warm welcome eases her nerves. She really can see herself settling in and finding some happiness.

She goes with Darcy and takes care of the last of the details, a new key in her hand. Pride swells in her chest, it’s just a trailer, but she has her own place. She’s an adult who’s adulting.

Once everything at the Moonflower is settled, Dahlia’s back at her hotel, haphazardly tossing her things in her luggage before check out time. Always late. Everything settled, she dashes down to the reception desk, the woman has been thankfully kind about the whole sleepwalking fiasco last night. Not only did she bring Dahlia back in with a blanket, she even had the kitchen make her some hot chocolate before she went to sleep.

“You checking out?”

“Yeah, gotta rush back home.”

“Ah, we gonna see more of you in Hope County.” There’s a hopeful lilt to the woman’s voice and it makes Dahlia smile, the people in this county are really friendly.

“I’m moving here, actually.”

“That’s wonderful! Ah, I’m sure you’ll fit right in, I have some friend who I know would just adore you. Let me know once you’ve settled in.”

“Uh, will do, thanks.”

A quick wave bye and Dahlia’s headed out the door, climbing back on her back to ride the long way back to Reinette.

It’s a long way, a pit stop in Denver along the way to keep her from losing her mind from exhaustion. She finds herself at the same roach motel she stayed at along the way to Hope County, no reason to go digging for something else. It’s past midnight when she’s checked into her room and is throwing her stuff on a creaking bed, staring at a stained ceiling. She already misses the hotel in Hope County.

Her joints pop and crack as she heads to the shower; she washes and hums along to her music and she half expects the odd hallucinations to return. It’s later in the day and she’s no doubt more exhausted now than she was last night. But, nothing happens. Her eyes are the same familiar brown when she looks in the mirror, no sirens try to lure her away, and she doesn’t find herself stumbling through a labyrinth.

She wakes up the next morning in the dingy little bed and she’s back on the road as soon as she can get there. By nightfall she’s made her way back to Reinette, pulling up in front of Lloyd and Caroline’s farmhouse.

The large wooden home with warm amber light seeping out from the windows. It looks and feels like a home. Sometimes, it feels like it could be Dahlia’s.

“Stray!” Lloyd yells out as soon as she’s stepped foot inside, pulling her into a warm bone crushing hug before she can say a word. She melts into it, hugging him right back, letting the heat of him chase away the chill outside.

“C’mon, we’ve been waiting on ya,” he tells her after he reluctantly pulls away from the hug, tugging her towards the dinner table. The smell of homemade stew hitting her nose and making her stomach growl, she can’t remember a time before Lloyd and Caroline where she could come home to an actual cooked meal. She doesn’t think it ever existed.

“So, what exactly happened, something about a bar?” Caroline asks, as Dahlia begins to gobble up her food.

“Well,” she slurs out her words around her mouthful of food, unwilling to stop eating just for a conversation, “there’s some bar in Fall’s End, some jackass tried to rob it and next thing I know Whitehorse is calling me his Junior Deputy.”

“Junior Deputy?” Caroline refills Dahlia’s bowl as soon as she hears the spoon scratching against the china, her eyebrow is raised, and Lloyd looks like he’s holding back a laugh.

“Thanks, uh, I guess it’s a term they use for their rookie deputies up there.” She shrugs, the term was strange, but she didn’t give it much more thought.

Lloyd’s unable to hold back his laughter anymore, face going beet red as he bursts into chuckles. Dahlia narrows her eyes at him, unsure what exactly could be so funny.

“That’s what they call the program for the little kids, Stray, when you give ‘em cardboard badges and stickers, they’re Junior Deputies. Earl was giving you shit, you were just too dumb to notice.”

Heat crawls up Dahlia’s face, she’s not sure if it’s from anger or embarrassment. Either way, she’s not happy and finds herself throwing a dinner roll at Lloyd’s head.

“Hey. I’m not dealing with any mess,” Caroline threatens, but Dahlia is busy glaring at Lloyd.

“He knows damn well I’m not a kid.”

“No one would know just by looking at ya.”

“You waste one more roll, you’ll be doing the dishes by yourself.”

Dahlia lowers her arm and instead shoves it in her mouth, looking at Caroline as she chews it, trying to ask if she’s happy now without the words, but the older woman simply rolls her eyes.

“Look, you know damn well that hazing is part of a new job, you aren’t gonna manage to avoid it.”

“Yeah, yeah, one of the other deputies was busting my balls before I even got the job.”

“Just means they knew you’d get the job,” Lloyd says with a grin.

“I’m pretty sure he’s just an asshole.”

“You thought that about Chase, too.” Chase is one of the officers for the Reinette department, a little shit.

“Yeah and I was right, Chase is an asshole.”

“But you don’t mind it anymore.”

“Sure...we’ll go with that.”

“Was everyone there giving you a hard time?”

“Uh,” her heart seems to beat a little faster when she thinks of Hudson, what is wrong with her, “no, the other deputy was…nice…”

Caroline and Lloyd shoot each other some look, a meaning behind it that Dahlia can’t catch.

“Is something wrong?”

“Uh, no, just for some reason when I met that deputy, I just got all weird, I guess.”

“Weird?”

“Yeah, like my heart was racing, I felt like I was burning up. It was super weird.”

“Oh my god.” Caroline places a hand to her smiling mouth, looking over at Lloyd like she just struck gold.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe it.”

“Can’t believe what?” Dahlia asks, what the fuck kind of conversation are they having with their eyes, what are they freaking out about.

“I was starting to think it wasn’t gonna happen, which I mean, is fine some people just don’t feel that sort of way. But, here we are.”

“She really is growing up,” Caroline remarks, still smiling.

“I don’t know what you’re freaking out about, I’m probably just allergic to her perfume or something, I don’t know.” That makes sense, right? Why are they freaking out?

“Her?” Caroline raises an eyebrow, why does it matter? Why does any of this matter?

“Eh, lets be honest, Care Bear, are you really surprised?”

“No, but it’s nice to know, would have been nicer to know when I was trying to set her up with Susan’s boy.”

“Ugh, Susan’s boy, guy or girl Stray needs someone with more than two braincells.”

“She barely has any braincells.”

“Rude.”

“That’s exactly why she needs someone with a brain! You can’t have two idiots, that’s how someone ends up dead. You can have a smart person and another smart person, you can have an idiot and a smart person. But you can’t have two idiots, it’s a disaster in the making.”

“Hey, I’m not an idiot!”

“Look, it’s not meant to be an insult.”

“That’s literally the only way it can be meant.”

“I don’t mean that you’re stupid, you’re just…what’s the word I’m looking for Caroline?”

“Stupid.”

“I will start throwing food again.”

“Okay, okay, lets change the subject for now,” Lloyd holds his hands up in mock surrender, “that bar you were talking about in Falls End, wasn’t the Spread Eagle was it?”

Lloyd was actually born and raised in Hope County, but he left when he was around twenty-eight. He always tells the story of him moving to Reinette like it was magic, taking over an inherited farm from an estranged relative after their death, meeting Caroline, falling instantly and love, raising more foster children than Dahlia could imagine. They had just stopped taking in foster children, having adopted and raised the last one into adulthood, when Dahlia ended up in their barn. Lloyd, ever the dramatic, likened it to adopting cats and then once you’re done adopting, a stray just wanders in and adopts you.

“Yeah, you know the place?”

“Gary and Irene always use to give me and Earl discounts, it was always the first place we went after a shift.”

She can see that, so easily in her mind, the two men when they were younger leaving a long drawn out shift to let off steam in the local bar. It’s hard to imagine just how good of friends they must have been, spending time together after every workday and staying in contact even when Lloyd moved so far away. She can’t imagine having a friend like that.

“I think the woman running it was called Mary May, something like that?”

“Seriously, holy shit, Mary May was their little girl, my god she’s all grown up.”

“You’re old.”

“Thanks, Stray.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You know, we should take a trip back to Montana sometime Care Bear, it’s been a while, plus we got a new reason to visit.”

“By the way, do you know what Eden’s Gate is?” The weird religious group is still on her mind, it seems to be all over Hope County. If they’ve been there for a long while, then surely Lloyd would know what it is and who they are. He raises an eyebrow and she can practically see the gears turning in his head.

“Can’t say that I do, why you ask Stray?”

“Some religious group or something, they’re all over the county, even built a damn statue. Figured you might know what they are.”

“You mean, like the big deer statue near the Whitetail mountains?”

“No, like a statue of a dude, like their founder or some shit, dude with a manbun.” She uses her hands to pull her hair back in a little bun-esque shape, as if the visual aid is necessary.

“Yeah…that, I’ve never seen any of that, you sure, you ain’t losing it, Stray?”

“Yes, I’m very sure I’m not losing it. They don’t seem like bad folks, the one I met, but they’re definitely strange.”

“You’re not gonna go and try to find religion in Hope County, are you?” Caroline asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh fuck no.”

“I was about to say, I haven’t gotten to set foot in a church in two years.”

“I’m pretty sure she’d burst into flames.”

Lloyd and Caroline share a smile, cracking up at Dahlia’s expense as she sticks a tongue out at them.

“Hope they’re not the Jehovah Witness types, who go door to door,” Dahlia grumbles, the very thought making her stomach churn the stew inside of it. She’d rather blow her brains out then listen to someone preaching at her when she’s trying to relax.

“If they are, they’re about to meet their worst nightmare.”

She can’t help but grin, the chatting continues for a while, just enjoying a cozy night in with the couple. Before, she knows it the food is gone and the night has gone on longer than usual. Lloyd and Caroline typically sleep early, rise early, while Dahlia is more of a night owl.

But there’s an unspoken reluctance for the couple to turn in. Even as the moon hangs high in the sky, as Caroline and Lloyd yawn at the table. He even mentions playing a board game, cards, something. When she tells them to go to bed, Caroline nearly drifting off on his shoulder. She’s pulled into another hug, caring touches lingering as they finally drag themselves off to bed; tired voices slurring out goodnights.

Maybe it’s egotistical, but the hesitance seems to hint at more. An understanding that this is likely among one of the last nights she’ll spend here with them and the desire to make it drag on as long as possible. To soak in every last moment of her being here.

She knows she isn’t the greatest person to live with or even be around, that anyone should be happy to be rid of a leech like her. But, they’re far too kind for that.

Dahlia takes a slow walk to the room she’s called her own for the past two years. She hasn’t changed anything in the time she’s been here, despite how much the couple has told her she could. Piles of clothes on the floor are the only thing that could be considered her personal touch. The small bed frame creaks as she sits down on the side, a second later the door is pushed open by Lucy, Lloyd and Caroline’s border collie.

She lays a fluffy head on Dahlia’s knee and she buries her fingers into the fur, memories of the first time she held the dog. It was the first day she found herself here, hunkered down in their barn for shelter for the night, rain pouring down. She was scared that Lucy would bite her, aggressive towards a stranger. But just as kind as her owners, Lucy just shuffled herself closer to the drenched teenager, helping keep her warm through the stormy night.

She’s changed so much in these past two years.

Muscle tone and squish where was once a sack of bones, her fingers no longer able to slot in the spots between her ribs. Skin a healthier tan instead of the sickly pale it was that first night, ink now covering sections of that skin. Her first paychecks ending up in tattoos and clothes, taking control of her body and wardrobe in a way she’s never had before. For years her thick dark hair hung in a curtain down past her chest, that night and many nights before, it was tangled in thick dirty knots, matted to her skull in places.

The very first day she was allowed to shower here, she grabbed a pair of scissors and hacked it off to the best of her abilities. Caroline later cleaned up the choppy job and now she’s found herself with a short bob of dark brown, nearly black hair. She’s really started to come into her own, feeling like her own person and becoming who she wants to be.

She just wishes that was a person who could stay in Reinette. This is what has to happen, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t going to miss everything here. Lloyd and Caroline being the biggest thing, but Lucy, living on the farm, so much. It’s not like she’s never going to see them again.

They’ll likely invite her back for visits, already making plans to visit her in Montana, but things are going to change. That’s unavoidable and undeniable. It’s scary, but most things worth doing are.

Dahlia sees the sunrise before she finally manages to sleep in that bed for the last time.

The next day, or more accurately after she’s gotten a few hours of sleep, everything is a frantic blur of activity as she tries to prepare for the move. It’s mostly clothes, a laptop, a portable game, and a few books. Nothing major or impressive, a tight pang in her chest as

“Come on in.”

The door creaks open and she looks over her shoulder to see Lloyd, something in his hand. His fingers clench and unclench, there's something in his hand, he shuffles a bit in the doorway.

"Something up?" She asks, throwing a few more shirts in her bag.

"Uh, I, well, what's this?" His eyes are drawn towards her open duffle bag, the same one she brought with her to Hope County, she's just been throwing her stuff in without much thought.

She raises an eyebrow as he starts to shift some stuff around in her bag, pulling out a heavy white book with that familiar cross like symbol. How did that get in there? Chills reverberate up her spine, goosebumps raising on her skin, it's starting to feel like this Eden's Gate shit is following her everywhere.

"That was at the hotel, I uh, must have thrown it in my bag by accident?" It's the only thing that makes sense.

"First day there and you're robbing the hotel?"

"Shut up, I'll return it when I get back, but, uh, that's that religion I was talking about. Their book."

He drops what he was holding, it looks like a little booklet, homemade. She grabs it as he starts flipping through the weird religious tome, she opens up the booklet. A photobook, the first one is of her, Lloyd, and Caroline at the fair, big puffy bags of cotton candy in her hand. Second one her holding an alligator and grinning, they drug her out to an alligator ranch one day, knowing how much she loves animals. Pictures from the beach trip they took her on, photos of her and Lucy. A photo from her first day at the station with everyone crowded around her.

"Book of Joseph...god that's already creepy."

"Huh," nostalgia interrupted she peers over at the book, seeing a portrait of a guy, “that's him!" "What?"

"That's the guy who had the fuckin' statue of him, their founder or whatever."

"Who the hell wants his face hanging over 'em? Seems like a total creep."

“I don't know, he looks like Norman Bates there." She grimaces, the way he's glowering is entirely too reminiscent of the famous mother loving killer's signature look.

“Don't get it, I uh, hey, why are you looking at that?" He asks, peering down at the booklet in her hand.

"It's mine, I'm allowed to look at it."

"Who the hell said it's yours?"

"So, you weren't giving this to me as a gift, you just made it for fun?"

"Caroline made it and ya know, something to remember us by and..." His blue eyes blurring with tears.

"I'm moving states, not going to war, Jesus Christ."

"You're leaving, I'm gonna miss you."

“No one is dying, stop, oh my god, stop crying you baby." She knocks her fist into his shoulder, no force or animosity behind it.

“I haven't cried this much since Maya left for college," he tells her, talking about his youngest adopted daughter, who had left the home just a year or so before Dahlia showed up in their barn. The couple barely got a year of an empty nest before she barged in.

“Are you done?” She asks him with a raised eyebrow, waiting for the new fresh onslaught of tears to poor out.

“Yeah, yeah, by the way everyone down at the station wants to see you before you head out.”

“Why?”

“I don’t fucking know, maybe it’s ‘cause you’re leaving and they like you, some a little too much, as far as I’m concerned. “

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, my sweet naïve child,” Lloyd dramatically cups a hand on the back of her head and pulls in for a hug, “whoever was supposed to teach ya about the birds and the bees, really fucked up, didn’t they?”

“Shut up!” She groans, pushing him away, she’s not naïve. He just talks like a weirdo, she’s finally got her stuff all packed up, so she follows Lloyd out of the room.

Caroline is in the kitchen and has been all day, according to Lloyd she’s been cooking up a storm for the past couple days, ever since Dahlia first left for her interview.

“You coming down to the station with us?”

“Uh, I’ll meet you down there later.”

“Alrighty then.”

Dahlia’s heart sinks, a pang there as she sets up her luggage and bags to be tried down to her motorcycle, she plans on getting on the road right after this little meeting. She knows it’s silly, but she was hoping Caroline would go with them. It will be the last they see of each other for a long while, she doesn’t want Lloyd’s sobbing, but she’d like at least a little more…fanfare. But, Caroline seems fairly nonchalant.

“You ready to get going?”

“Yeah.”

Lloyd hops in his pickup truck, firing it up and driving into town with Dahlia riding her bike after him.

There’s an extra weight to her sigh as she parks in front of the little police station, the one she’s been reporting to every day for the past two year and this the last time she’ll visit. Lloyd doesn’t even bother to wait around for her as she stares at the building, soaking it in for the last time before she finally trails in behind him.

“Surprise!” A chorus of voices cheer out as she steps into the modest station, Micah and Chance two officers blowing on little party kazoos afterwards.

“What the fuck?”

“You didn’t think we could let you go without throwing you a party, did you?” Alexis tells her, squeezing Dahlia’s shoulder.

Alexis has the most experience here after Lloyd and if he’d bother to retire before the station goes out, she’d be next in line. Micah and Chance are the resident dumbass officers, but they’re entertaining if nothing else.

There’s a banner across the station office, Goodbye Stray. A sheet cake saying Good Luck on a table and Chance is throwing around confetti like a weird shredded paper fairy.

“You guys are so dumb.”

“We’re trying to be nice, brat,” Chance tells her, sprinkling confetti directly in her hair.

“Come on, I’ll cut you a piece of cake before he covers it in paper,” Micah offers.

Once the initial yell and Chance has run out of confetti, the party winds down into something more casual. Dahlia cramming cake in her mouth, with her feet propped up in Micah’s lap as they talk about everything. There’s a few other cops in the station, but most are on patrol and couldn’t make it. But Alexis, Micah, and Chance are by far the ones apart from Lloyd that she’s grown the closest too.

Which makes it all the more depressing that the station is slowly dying out. Each of them has already started building their list of places to apply to once the inevitable happens.

“I’m gonna miss you assholes,” Dahlia brings herself to say, after a moment.

“Finally, she admits it,” Lloyd yells out excitedly.

“Shut up.”

“You’re gonna make some great friends over in Hope County.”

“No one’s gonna be better than us, though.”

“Shut up, Chance.”

Dahlia can’t help but laugh at Alexis and Chance’s interaction, she really is going to miss these dumbasses. She doesn’t make friends easy, so parting with them and getting new ones is just that much more aggravating. Pratt was a dick and Hudson does weird things to her, how could she become friends with them? She doesn’t want to go to work everyday and either hate or be nauseous around her coworkers.

“My friend Earl will keep an eye on her.”

“Make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid you mean,” Alexis teases and heat flushes up Dahlia’s cheeks. Why does everyone think she’s stupid, why does Alexis have to think she’s stupid?

“You like it up in Montana?” Micah asks after a beat of silence.

“I do, it’s colder up there which sucks, but it’s beautiful. Whitehorse is nice, I’ve met some friendly people,” she thinks of the couple with Boomer and the people of the trailer park.

“I’m glad then.”

“Watch out or Micah’s gonna be throwin’ in an application there just to follow you,” Lloyd says, grinning.

“Would you stop?! I just wanted to make sure, she was going to be happy.”

“Sure, you were.”

They talk about anything and everything, Dahlia is the first one to leave, but all of them have looked into where they want to be post-Reinette. Alexis is looking into big cities, lots of work, showing just how talented she is. Chance isn’t going far, a county or two over at most. Micah still isn’t sure, but he’s thinking of leaving the state.

The night drifts on, until the cake is gone, easily two-thirds of it ending up in the void Dahlia calls a stomach. Outside the sky has become a wash of oranges, pinks, and purple as the sun sets. It’s time to get going.

“I gotta get on the road, if I have any chance of getting there with enough time to settle in.”

Dahlia reluctantly stands from her chair, the time’s come. The last goodbye, for now at least, she hopes that they’ll stay in some form of contact after this. Alexis is the first to pull her into a hug and Dahlia freezes a bit, taken aback.

“You’re gonna do great things out there.”

Dahlia’s heart pangs and she squeezes Alexis back, hoping the strength of her hold can communicate how much those words mean to her. After a moment, they separate. Chance and Micah looking at her now.

“Don’t think this gets you out of your promise, twenty-first birthday, you’re letting me take you out and get you piss faced drunk,” Chance tells her, grinning at his own stupid ideas.

“If you wanna drive out to Montana just to see me drunk, that’s on you.”

“Don’t underestimate my stubbornness.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Just so you know, if you need anything, all you have to do is call and ask,” Micah tells her, squeezing her shoulder, but she can tell he’s holding back.

“You can hug me, if you want.”

And then his arms are around her, hugging her tight to his body. She squeezes him right back. A few moments pass, before they finally pull apart.

“Well now I want a hug,” Chance says, upon the realization he’s the only who hasn’t gotten one.

“Come here then, dumbass.”

And then they’re hugging, Chance going the extra mile to pull her up off the ground. Another beat of just enjoying the warmth of someone who for some reason cares about her. She’ll never understand why. Why any of these people opened their hearts to her, but they did, and she’ll always be thankful for it.

Lloyd walks her out once Chance has finally freed her, the sun sinking lower in the sky, she buries her hands in her pockets. Her throat is tight, it’s getting closer and closer to the time to leave.

“You sure, you can’t just stay one more night here?”

“It takes over a day just to get there.”

“But uhhh,” Lloyd is nervously looking around as he stutters, like he’s trying to stall.

“You alright?”

“Well….um, it’s just…finally!” Lloyd yells as they hear the rumble of an engine coming in, Caroline’s car pulling into the parking lot.

“Caroline?”

“Thank god, I managed to catch you.” The older woman gets out of her car, tucking a short strand of blonde hair back behind her ear, she opens the passenger side and is rummaging for something.

“What’s going on?”

“Here, we go.” Caroline emerges from her passenger seat with a towering pile of Tupperware, all filled with various meals.

“What the hell is this?”

“You can’t cook, how the hell else are you supposed to eat up in Montana,” Caroline says, shoving the containers into Dahlia’s arms.

“There’s restaurants, microwave meals, I have options.”

“I’m not letting you eat garbage the whole time you’re there, this should at least get you through the first couple months.”

“I, I don’t have room for six-hundred plastic containers, I drive a motorcycle.”

“Eh, I’m sure you can fit ‘em into the under-seat compartment,” Lloyd says, already lifting the seat on Dahlia’s motorcycle and taking containers from her arms to force inside.

Dahlia’s laughing by the time he’s forced the last of them inside, looks like she was proven wrong.

“So, I’m just gonna be sitting on three months’ worth of meals all the way to Montana.”

“Pretty sure that’s more like a week’s worth for you, but it’s better than nothing.”

Dahlia smiles and chews her lip, not sure what to say. Emotion and sentimentality rising up in her. She feels like she has so much to say, every word cobbling together to catch in her throat. But she can’t just let it go, even if she has to force herself to dislodge a single of those words, she has to do it.

“I…,” that’s a start, technically, “I, really, really, really, really don’t deserve you guys. Th-there’s not enough reallys in the world, but I’m serious, I-”

“Stray, you deserve all the good that’s comes your way, hell you deserve a lot more of it.”

“I really don’t, I, I owe you guys so much and I know I can’t ever repay you for everything. But, I, I at least want you to know just how much it all means to me. If it wasn’t for you guys, I’d, be rotting in a gutter somewhere, I mean.”

“Hey, hey,” she’s being pulled into Lloyd’s chest before she knows it, hugged tight against his chest, when did she start crying?

Her face feels like it’s on fire and her head is throbbing. After a moment, Lloyd pulls away. He places a hand on her shoulder and the other cups her jaw, forcing her to look at him through her tear-filled eyes. All her yelling at him to keep it together, don’t be a crybaby. And she’s the one falling apart.

“You don’t owe us anything. We did our best to do right by you, because that’s what you deserve. Okay, you deserve a home and a family and people who love you.”

“Uhhh, agree to disagree…?” What the hell is her voice doing? It’s so broken and cracked, everything she says dragging out of her throat.

“No disagreeing,” Caroline chimes in, her eyes soft and motherly.

“We just want you to be happy, you deserve it.”

“You think you can do that for us? Just be happy and you’ll more than pay back anything you think you owe us.”

“I’ll try, I guess,” she murmurs, wiping tears from her eyes.

“Good girl,” Caroline says, reaching out to ruffle Dahlia’s hair. The young girl laughs through her tears, pull Lloyd in for another hug before forcing one on Caroline.

Dahlia wipes away the last of her tears.

“Uh, sorry about that.”

“No apologies, call as soon as you get there. We’ll try to come out and visit just as soon as we can.”

“This ain’t goodbye forever, Stray, we’ll see you again before you know it.”

A bright silver moon hangs in the sky by the time she brings herself to part with them for the last time, climbing onto her motorcycle.

Two mornings later and she’s pulling into the Moonflower Trailer Park, the sun rising overhead. A smile stretches across her lips as she pulls in, a few people already milling about in the early morning. She notices Ruth, helping ease her kid down the little slide in the miniature playground that’s at the center of the trailer park. The woman waves at her and Dahlia returns the gesture as she parks near her trailer.

She pulls off her helmet and thanks for a moment, locking up and keeping her motorcycle safe will be difficult with this set up. Moving it into her trailer would be an option, but it’s be a pain the ass with moving it every day. There’s a decent chunk of land behind where her trailer sits, not enough for another to move in there, but enough to mark a pseudo backyard.

Maybe she can build a shed or something? She’ll have to double check on the rules and what’s allowed.

For now, Dahlia busies herself with moving her things into the trailer. She basically tosses her bags and luggage in, not bothering to properly unpack things. The biggest thing is moving Caroline’s meal into the fridge and freezer. Once everything is where it needs to be, she grabs a shower and changes her clothes. She’ll have to do some laundry when she gets a chance.

Dahlia stretches her muscles as she steps back out of her trailer, the activity has picked up somewhat, more people milling about and having conversations about who knows what. She makes a mental list of the things she has to get done; checking about a shed, getting some groceries in, doing her laundry and probably some stuff she hasn’t even thought about yet.

She makes a beeline for the registration building, peering inside and seeing a man talking to Darcy. Taking her chances of a long wait; she steps inside and loiters behind the stranger. Darcy’s bright blues land on Dahlia and the man follows the gaze, it seems like everyone in the county has a set of pretty light eyes. All greens and blues from what she’s seen. The receptionist at the hotel, both deputies and Whitehorse, the dispatcher at the station, Mary May, Darcy, and even Ruth. She’s pretty sure the only other pair of brown eyes she’s seen since she’s been here was the guy who nearly pulled a gun on her.

“You need something, hon?”

“I don’t want to interrupt.”

“You’re fine, darlin’, we were just shooting the shit.” Pet names and light eyes seem to both be trends here.

“I was just wondering if I could build a shed behind my trailer, to keep my motorcycle locked up.”

“As long as you aren’t blocking anyone or anything, go for it.”

Dahlia gives a little thumbs up in acknowledgement and starts to make a bee line back out, time to find out where the hell to get supplies for a shed. The man starts to follow her out, quickly catching up to her as she’s making her way back to her trailer.

“If you’re looking to build something, there’s a nice hardware and carpentry store, they give you all the supplies and instructions. You just gotta put it together,” he finishes up as they reach her motorcycle.

“Sounds good, you got a number for them?”

“Yeah, I,” he looks at her motorcycle, “you got a way to haul it?”

“Nah, I’d have to rent a truck.”

“I got a pickup, if you order it, I can pick it up for you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m down there most days anyway, I’m Liam by the way.”

“I-”

“Nice bike,” another voice yells out, a guy with scraggly hair looking at Dahlia’s motorcycle, “it yours?”

“Hey, Clyde,” Liam greets him.

“Yeah, 2009 Yamaha FZ1; guy’s kid totaled it and I nearly rebuilt it from scratch.” She tells him, smiling at the memory of finding the wrecked bike in Lloyd’s garage.

The three talk for some time about the specs of her motorcycle and talking about the place Liam recommended. He gives her the number and after some relenting agrees to be paid for at least the gas money. After some time and Clyde rambling about the vintage motorcycle he had as a teenager, she manages to tear herself away from the conversation to make the call. She reserves the materials and Liam is planning on heading that way shortly.

That taken care of for now, she decides to get her laundry taken care of. She grabs her bag of dirty laundry out of her trailer and makes a beeline for the laundry half building. It’s a strange roofed in area with no doors. How they manage to maintain the machine is beyond her. Seems like a nightmare when bad weather hits.

She rattles out her coins and gets what she needs, cooking may evade her but she at the very least knows how to do her own laundry. Dahlia bends over to start shoving her clothes in, she’s struggling to find her other sock when she gets the sense she’s being watched, someone’s eyes trained on her backside. She tucks a lock of hair back behind her ear as she stands back up and turns around.

“Uh, ah…” The guy awkwardly stumbles back, not really forming any words as he avoids her eyes. He’s taller than her; as are most people. Other than children, she hasn’t found a single person in Hope County shorter than her.

He scratches sheepishly at the back of his neck, why was he looking at her?

"There something on my shorts?" She brushes a hand down the denim, searching for something. It wouldn't be the first time she's managed to sit in something gross.

"Uh, shit, sorry I'm just a man, I can't help it."

"Okay…" That didn't really answer her question. Weird guy, she decides and focuses on going back to her laundry.

"No harassing the new girl, Boshaw." Ruth comments as she walks in, laundry basket on her hip.

“I wasn’t doing nothing.” He tries to defend himself and Dahlia is left even more confused.

“Don’t let him bug you, he doesn’t even live here. Boshaws are good for nothing but a party,” Ruth tells her, clapping a hand on Dahlia’s back. She just shakes her head, not worth dealing with.

By the time Dahlia finishes up her laundry the sound of a backfiring truck engine is making its way back into the trailer park. Liam with a truck bed filled with hardwood and all the stuff she needs for her shed.

“Me and Clyde will help you put it together, if you want.” Liam offers, him and Clyde already helping her unload the materials.

“I mean it’d go quicker, if I had more hands,” Dahlia says, she doesn’t need the help necessarily and doesn’t want to be a bother, but she’d appreciate it anyway.

“Where exactly do you want it?”

“Just right back behind my trailer, let’s see.”

The three of them move the supplies to where she needs the shed built, Dahlia’s taking a glance at the building instructions and when she looks back up, Liam and Clyde have managed to grab a radio and a pack of beer. It’s not even noon.

“Want one?” Clyde offers her a can.

“Nah, I’m under 21.”

“Pfff, never stopped anyone.” He shrugs before downing the can himself. Maybe as a cop she should give a shit about that statement, but the drinking age is dumb. Even if she feels obligated to listen to it due to her job, she can admit it’s stupid.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, sweetheart, where are you from?”

“Louisiana.”

“The hell you doing out here?”

“Moved for work, you two Hope County natives?”

“Born and raised, wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

“You guy’s got any recommendations of shit to do here?”

She happily listens to them ramble about lady’s night at The Spread Eagle, O’Hara’s Haunted House being the best place for a scare, hiking trails in the Whitetail Mountains, the best fishing spots, the 8-bit Pizza Bar’s games, and raving about the burgers at The Grill Steak. The entire time they’re all working, laughing, and the pair of them throwing back beers.

Sweat is coating Dahlia’s skin by the time they finish, and it feels nice to be able to stand back to look at what’s been accomplished. Put together with hard work and the help of her new neighbors.

“Hell yeah, we got that knocked out in no time,” Clyde boasts, holding his hand out for a high five that she gives right away.

“Here,” Liam tosses her the padlock he picked up for it, all packaged with it’s little key. She pushes her bike inside, already thinking of adding hooks and shelves, for her helmet and other odds and ends. She can really make something with it. She’s more excited to put work into her motorcycle’s home than her own trailer. Go figure.

She locks it up and hooks the key on her keychain. One more thing taken care of.

“I really appreciate it, you guys didn’t have to do this. Uh, I can’t cook for shit, but if you want I can buy you l-”

Engine revving again, better shape than Liam’s backfiring pickup, an old green one comes pulling into the trailer park. Dahlia’s eyes widen in surprise when she realizes who’s at the wheel, Sheriff Whitehorse. The tension of the trailer park draws tight, no more signs of the laughing easy going nature she was getting comfortable in. Liam, Clyde, and every trailer park resident as far as Dahlia can see are now staring daggers at the Sheriff.

No sign of peturbment, Whitehorse parks and hops out of the front seat of his truck, right next to Dahlia and her two new friends. He stops to grab something from the passenger side.

“The hell are you doing here?!” Clyde asks low and threatening.

“Came to see my new Junior Deputy, figured it’d be good for you to get your uniforms,” Whitehorse tells her, green deputy shirts in hand.

“Thanks, Sheriff.” She takes the uniforms from his hand, feeling those glares that were on Whitehorse being turned towards her.

“You...settling in alright, Rook?”

“Uh, yeah, I think…” She thought she was. But, now she has her doubts.

“That’s good, just wanted to check in on you.”

“I appreciate it, I was just about to buy them lunch, if you w-”

“We’re good,” Liam says, definitely with a gruff sound to his voice.

“Are you s-”

Liam and Clyde are already storming away, smiles and laughter drained from their faces and replaced with angry tension. What did she do? Why are they mad? She clenches her jaw and chews her bottom lip as she watches what she thought were her new friends walk off.

“Come on, I’ll buy you lunch, Rook.” Whitehorse claps a large hand on her shoulder, warm and comforting during her confusion. He gently turns her towards the passenger side of his truck, and she climbs in, fiddling with the uniforms in her lap; the Hope County Sheriff’s Department patch rough against her fingers.

The engine revs to life as Whitehorse climbs in, the radio humming out a country song. She hates not at least knowing what she did wrong.

“Not gonna lie, when I heard you moved into The Moonflower, I got worried about ya Rook.”

“Why’s that?”

“Hmm, it’s where a lot of the more...suspicious citizens of Hope County live. They don’t have a lot of respect for cops, none actually. More likely to call you a pig than eat lunch with you. Not bad people, but they don’t have any love for law enforcement.”

“So...I’m a cop who just moved into a trailer park of criminals is what you're telling me.”

“Basically.”

“And thanks to you, they all for sure know I’m a cop now.”

“Would have found out when you had to arrest one of ‘em, this seemed a bit better.”

It’s stupid to be upset, she knows that it’s stupid to be upset about losing people she’s known all of five hours. But it felt nice to be welcomed with such open arms and to know that’s already gone to shit. She focuses on her uniforms in her lap because it’s easier than dealing with the lump in her throat and the churn of her stomach. No name tag or badge on her uniforms.

“Where’s my name tag and badge?”

“We’re a small operation, Rook. We’re not investing in patches and a badge until we know you’re staying in for the long haul.”

“I also found out about your junior deputy crap, I’m not a kid in high school.”

“Not far off from it.”

He’s looking off across the road to make sure it’s safe to turn, so she uses the moment of him looking away to stick her tongue out at him. Does it make her look any more mature? No. Does she care? No.

“Caught that, Rookie.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Sounds fake.”

They pull into the parking lot of Aubrey’s Diner, a big restaurant with a pink roof. Whitehorse brings the truck into park, Dahlia tucks the uniforms into the backseat before hopping out of the truck. The sheriff squeezes her shoulder as they walk into the restaurant, as much as he likes teasing her, he seems keen on trying to comfort her. Maybe he just feels sorry for her and her shitty luck.

“Hey, my name is Cassie, I’ll be your waitress today. Can you take a seat, right over here.” A young girl, probably around Dahlia’s age with long black hair helps show them to a booth. Whitehorse takes his hat off as he sits down.

“Can I get you two anything to drink?” The waitress hands them menus, there’s a mess of bruises across her forearm. Mixes of blues, purples, and some more faded greens. The indents of fingerprints on her skin.

“A black coffee, please.”

“Uh, whatever soda you have is fine, what happened to your arm?”

The girl’s eyes go wide, reminiscent of a deer in the headlights. She gives an awkward tight smile and pushes a lock of hair back behind her ear.

“Oh, I was just horsing around with my four wheeler, nothing major. I’ll go get your drinks, right away.”

“You worry about everyone, don’t you?”

“You don’t get bruises like that from a four-wheeler.”

“You gonna do something about it?”

“Sure as shit gonna try,” she manages to catch the smile on Whitehorse’s face before she looks at the menu, “now, if you’re paying, what’s the limit?”

“Get whatever you want.”

“Do you actually mean that? Or are you trying to be nice, ‘cause I can and will eat you out of house and home if you let me.”

He laughs a little; a dry chuckle, like the idea of her being able to eat that much is ridiculous. She should try to go somewhat easy on him, first impressions or something. She’ll settle on a stack of pancakes and a double burger and fries.

There are a few people in the diner and when Cassie returns, Dahlia decides now isn’t the time. She doesn’t want to embarrass or make her uncomfortable. Even she has a smidge more tact than that. Cassie takes their orders and Dahlia feels Whitehorse staring at her.

“You gonna gorge yourself to make a point?”

“Pfff, this ain’t nothing to me,” Dahlia tells him with a shrug, drinking her soda, an awkward beat of silence following.

“You know, it you may not have picked a great place to settle in, but I think you’re gonna like it here, Rook.”

“I’m hoping.”

“A lot of people aren’t gonna like you. Aren’t gonna like your job, or what you have to do. You can’t let it get you down. The people here are good, most of ‘em will take you in with open arms.”

“They literally turned their backs on me, like physically looked at me in disgust and turned around,” Cassie brings their food back out, “thanks.”

“You know why I took a chance on you?”

“’Cause of the robbery thing?’ She asks as she begins dumping syrup on her peach pancakes before shoving a forkful in her mouth.

“I was gonna give you the probie position before that.”

“What!?” She slurs out around the food in her mouth.

“Well, yeah,” his blue eyes are soft, and he reminds her of Lloyd more than he ever has before, “you’re good people, Rook. And I’m not gonna be the only person who sees that. Anyone’d be damn lucky to have you in their corner.”

She swallows her mouthful of food, chewing the inside of her cheek as she weighs his words in her mind. Her heart is lighter, it’s nice knowing her new boss is rooting for her, sees something in her that’s worth seeing.

“That, uh, it means a lot,” this is too serious, “so, if you already knew you were gonna give me a shot before the interview ended, why the fuck did you wait until after to tell me?”

“Wouldn’t be any fun if I didn’t make you sweat at least a little.”

“I thought I fucked it all up!”

“Can’t be a cop if you don’t have a good poker face.”

“Its too good, I hate it.”

“Well, if you hate that, you’re gonna really hate this.”

“...and what would ‘this’ be?”

“You’ll be with Pratt on patrol.”

“What!?” She groans out, thinking about that smug asshole’s face.

“Pratt wasn’t too excited either, but I’m sure you two will manage.”

“Why can’t I work with Hudson?” Dahlia asks, though her voice catches strangely when she thinks about her. Heat prickling up under her skin. Whitehorse sighs as he leans back in the booth.

“I don’t want this to sound bad. You and Hudson are both perfectly capable officers. But I don’t like having two women officers partnered. I know it’s not right, but around here; perps will think they can push you around ‘cause you’re a woman. They’ll assume you’re soft. It’s not right, but it happens. I don’t want to put you in a bad situation right out of the gate, working with Pratt will make it easier on you.”

“That’s garbage, you may mean well, but it’s garbage.”

“There’s another reason too,” Whitehorse tells her with lopsided grin.

“And what’s that?”

“Rook, you could barely even talk to Hudson. I partner you with her and you’ll be a disaster.”

“What are you talking about? I talked to Hudson just fine.”

“You were bright red and stuttering; blind man could see your little crush.”

“Crush…?” Dahlia raises an eyebrow, like...feelings… That’s what everyone has been trying to say.

“Jesus criminy, that’s a whole new can of worms. You know what a crush is?”

“Yes, I know what a crush is, I just...never had one...I don’t think.”

“You feel like you’re burning up and gonna puke when you see her?”

“Maybe…”

“Like your heart is gonna explode out of your chest.”

“Uhhhh…”

“That’s a crush, Rook.”

She doesn’t even know Hudson, how the hell can she have a crush on her? You can’t have feelings for someone you don’t hardly know. She’s pretty though. Maybe it’s just physical attraction? Has she ever been even physically attracted to someone before?

“My head hurts.”

“I’m starting to think you’re even worse than taking on a high school kid.”

“Look, I don’t mess with that crap okay, I’ve never...ugh, can we move on?”

They’ve finished their food before they know it, Whitehorse just shaking his head at how easily she managed to gobble up all of the food she got. Dahlia grabs a napkin, doing her best to write down her phone number with it being actually legible. Her hand aches from the effort but it’s easy to read.

Cassie gives the bill and Whitehorse leaves a tip for her, once the young waitress starts to walk away, Dahlia excuses herself to go smoke. Though, she suspects the sheriff knows her actual intentions.

“Hey, Cassie,” Dahlia calls out and stops the waitress when she gets to a relatively secluded portion of the restaurant.

“Is there something else you need?”

“How old are you?”

“Uhh, 18, why?”

Not much younger, but she’s an adult, even a year younger this conversation would be a lot different.

“I can’t force or do much, unless you ask for it. But, I’m the new deputy with the station. I’m not saying for sure something is wrong, but if you need help, I want you to give me a call, alright?”

‘Um...thanks…” The girl awkwardly accepts the napkin before darting away and Dahlia clenches her jaw, knowing the chances of that call ever coming are slim. But at least she’s made an effort and if nothing else Cassie knows she has options. More than anyone ever did for her.

Maybe, she’ll go ahead and step outside for a smoke anyway.

She steps out and finds herself at the side of the building, where she lights up her cigarette. Dahlia fiddles with the edge of her thigh high socks as she takes a deep drag. She exhales a heavy cloud of smoke that drifts up through the sky, the afternoon sun rays beating down on her.

Among the trees something moves, a rustling of grass and brush followed by footsteps. Dahlia’s heart sinks when she sees her emerge. The girl from the hotel, the siren is walking down a grassy pathway. Her dress is a little different, no less white or lacy, but the sleeves are shorter and it comes off her shoulders, a white flower adorning her sandy colored hair. There’s a light grace to the way she walks, as if she’s on her own personal cloud floating along. She holds a book close to her chest.

Why is she seeing her again? Are her eyes playing tricks on her again?

Dahlia is moving without another thought, the siren’s call working it’s magic to draw her in again.

She expects the girl to vanish again, to fade into mist the second Dahlia gets too close, just as she had done time and time again that night. The second she grabs the woman’s shoulder, she’ll be gone. If the junior deputy even gets that close without the spectre fading away.

The heat of real flesh under her hand sends her spiraling back to reality. The girl jolting and staring at Dahlia with wide green eyes, scared and surprised at the grasp of a stranger. An expression unlike any seen in Dahlia’s hallucinations. She’s human, flesh and real, an actual person standing before her whom Dahlia just grabbed like a maniac. The panicky yells of others flood her ears. There are other people, a group of five or so people glaring daggers at Dahlia.

“What do you think you’re doing?” One of them yells, obviously ready to fight and Dahlia rips her hand off of the girl like she’s been scalded. What is she doing?

“I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry,” Dahlia gushes out a mess of apologies, “I, uh, thought I knew you from somewhere. I’m sorry, I just, sorry.”

“No, no need for sorries,” she’s speaking actual words for the first time, voice soft and melodic as she gently brings Dahlia’s hand into her own to intertwine their fingers, “you’re here for a reason, what’s your name?”

“Oh, uh, I-”

“Rookie, you ready to head out?” Whitehorse yells out from the diner, eyes narrowing a bit when he sees Dahlia with the strange woman.

“I gotta get going, again, I’m sorry, I, bye.” Dahlia’s off like a shot, ripping her hand from the woman’s and running back towards Whitehorse; desperate to escape the awkwardness.

She still feels those green eyes watching her as she jumps up into Whitehorse’s pickup. Dahlia settles into the passenger seat with a residual chill in her spine, she can’t put into words but something about this girl and the whole thing feels strange. The engine revs to life and the radio starts to play.

“You know that girl, Rook?”

“I thought I recognized her but, no.”

“You probably shouldn’t buddy up too close to the Seeds.”

“Why’s that?”

“They’re not too dangerous, they run a little religious group around the county, but they keep finding themselves in trouble lately it seems.”

“Reli- are they those Eve, Ed-”

“Project at Eden’s Gate, everyone calls ‘em peggies. They’re usually pretty harmless, but they always seem to be getting into hot water with the locals. Two of ‘em were the ones robbing The Spread Eagle that day you interviewed.”

“That doesn’t sound too harmless to me.”

“Stuff like that is rare, you just managed to land here at the right time.”

“Eh, I just know that I kept seeing random crap of theirs, from pamphlets to a book, and apparently that big freaking statue.” She glares at where she sees it over the horizon, the giant hunk of useless cement.

“Yeah, Joseph Seed is a real piece of work.”

“Wait, like, you’ve met him?”

“He’s had some run ins with us.”

“He’s like a currently living human being?”

“Last time I checked.”

“I, what the fuck, I thought he was like their old founder who died or something. You know from like the 1800’s or something. How far up your own ass do you have to be to have people build a statue of you? Ugh.”

Whitehorse laughs at her discomfort; she was here thinking he must have been some old founder who died a hundred years ago and it’s just some creepy man bun guy probably off somewhere being weird right now.

“You in a hurry to get home?” The sheriff asks her.

“Not particularly.” She needs to get groceries and stuff, but she has Caroline’s made up meals and she has water to her trailer, so she can make do and go shopping tomorrow.

“We’ll take the scenic route then, show you around.”

Whitehorse drives her around the Henbane river area, pointing out different places and structures that seem worth noting. The Dire Wolf Basin, Lydia’s Cave, Mastodon Geothermal Park, Dead Man’s Mill, and every place that has a name it seems. He prattles on something about each place, where they get their names, history. And she can feel her eyelids getting heavier with every syllable. They pass by the Drubman Marina, a dock and buildings, a pink helicopter landed there and boats on the sparkling clear water. The sun is starting to sink down and turn the sky into a mess of oranges and purples. His low accented voice rambles on about someone who owns it, divorce, real estate; it’s all a blur as she’s leaning against the door and her eyes finally shut completely.

“Rook, wake up,” Whitehorse is calling out and gently shaking her awake. She blinks a few times, clearing the sleep from her eyes. A glance at the radio clock tells her about two hours has passed. They’re parked back in front of the trailer park. He was talking and she fell asleep; not the greatest first impression to have on her boss the day before she starts working.

He doesn’t seem upset though, just smiling and laughing at her.

“You know, I was trying to help get your mind off shit, didn’t mean to do by boring you, but whatever works, I guess.”

“Sorry, I, uh guess, I was still tired from traveling, that’s a lie, I don’t know why I’m trying to lie. I just got bored and passed out.”

Whitehorse chuckles; at least he seems to find her amusing, that might help keep her around for a while.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Rookie, try to take it easy tonight,” she starts to unbuckle her seat belt, “and don’t forget your uniforms.”

“Thanks.” She grabs her uniform shirts out of the backseat and clambers out of the rusted green pickup.

Dahlia hears the trailer park before she steps past the sign. Whoops and hollers, the sound of a radio blasting. Behind her she hears Whitehorse’s truck pulling away and she feels alone again. No matter what it seems like she can’t seem to ever escape that.

In the center of the trailer park, near the playground area is a bonfire. Faces of people she’s seen in her short time here and ones she hasn’t met yet mingle around, laughing, hollering, and downing beers. The smell of food cooking over grills hits her nose, her never filled stomach growling despite herself. No one has noticed her yet. Caught up in the festivities. She adjusts the grip on her uniforms and kicks the toe of her boot into the dirt, she wants to be included. It’s childish, wanting so badly to just be invited. But she can’t help it. She doesn’t want to believe that people she seemed to fit in well with would throw her away because she’s a cop.

“You got a problem?” Clyde suddenly speaks up, noticing her through the party. His voice is low and his eyes narrowed, like he’s ready for a fight.

“Not particularly.” She shrugs.

“Then why don’t you go ahead and get out of here, Johnny Law.”

“I mean, I’ll go to my trailer…”

“Be better off if you just get out altogether,” Liam tells her.

“I paid to move in here like everyone else, you can’t kick me out.” Dahlia looks to Darcy, the only one here she sees that actually works for the trailer park and decided to rent to her. The girl chews her lip and avoids eye contact, running a hand through her short hair.

“I mean, yeah, as long as you pay you can stay, but I doubt you’ll be too happy here...You should, uh, try to find something else.”

“And the sooner the better, we don’t need fuckin’ narcs moving in on us.”

“I don’t work in narcotics.”

“Do I look like I give a damn what division you work for, a pig’s a pig!”

Dahlia clenches her jaw at Clyde’s yells, the way everyone around him is grinning, supporting him. This was one of the only options, besides an expensive apartment in Falls End or just waiting for the Silver Lake Trailer Park to have something available. She just rolls her eyes, trying not to betray the ache in her heart.

“This conversation is pointless.” She shakes her head and heads towards her trailer.

“Can’t believe we helped out a fuckin’ cop,” Liam grumbles as she turns her back on the party.

Then something pelts the back of her head, the stench of beer coating her hair as it splashes out of the nearly empty can that’s bounced off her skull.

She bites her lip, she could be an asshole, technically this can be classified as battery. And a little angry gremlin in the back of her brain wants her to teach them a lesson as they laugh at her, cackling like hyenas.

But it was just a can of beer, basically empty. She’s an adult. She doesn’t need to waste time or energy on this. At least that’s what she tells herself when she keeps her head down and makes her way to the trailer.

Her door does little to filter out the sound of the party. The music and excitement reverberates through the thin walls of her trailer.

Young blood, come to start a riot.

Don’t care what your old man say.

She tosses her uniforms on the couch, not really caring where they fall. The stench of beer is still sticking to her skin. She peels off her jacket and digs out her phone, syncing it to her speaker, might as well blast her own music in return.

Young blood, heaven hate a sinner.

I felt a break in a sacred place where your hands don’t heal.

But we gonna raise hell anyway.

These are the reasons you’re ruled by the things you feel.

The music mingles and mashes in awkward ways. The upbeat country rock and slow drag of indie music meshing into a cacophony of noise. Somewhere between a yell and a sing, she belts lyrics out, sometimes her music, sometimes theirs.

Raise hell, yeah

Out of the deep waters and all their intricacies.

Somebody gotta, gotta raise a little hell

This is the real face of all your enemies.

This isn’t unfamiliar. The ache of loneliness and feeling like she doesn’t belong. There are lots of reasons for it. No matter where she goes, there never seems to be a place for her. She can’t even blame them. Even if they’re open and welcoming, she knows that feeling will creep up again.

Baby, drop them bones.

I felt you escape into empty space where my heart can’t feel

Baby, sell that soul

Down in that darkness, you met all the things you feared

Lloyd and Caroline were the most welcoming people she’s ever encountered, yet that feeling still reared its ugly head. Those doubts of being a burden, a bother, that she’s intruding on their space. A leech of their time and energy.

The party rages on outside, everyone far happier without her around, as she lights a cigarette up in her trailer.

And I knew, I knew..

Baby, fare thee well

There was nothing I could do...

#far cry 5 #fc5 #joseph seed #jacob seed #john seed #faith seed #deputy oc #this is love #dahlia hale

14 notes · View notes