#‘death comes for us all but today it comes for me’

[stylesharrys]

The Box | Part Two [Boxerry]

Y/N and Harry find themselves on the run from the same people that killed Sam, and Y/N isn't sure how much more of this she can take. 

A/N: this is the final part of the series, still mad that it wouldn’t let me post it as one big fic but it is what it is. I’m working super hard on some new things for you guys and I’m excited to share them when they’re ready… but I do have a couple more old exclusive pieces I might share first :) 

Warnings: (in no particular order) mentions of death/loss of a sibling and grandparent, mentions of miscarriage, unsupportive parents, swearing, brief descriptions of illegal fighting, money laundering, use of weapons, brief mentions of alcohol, mentions of anxiety, schizophrenia and multiple personality disorder, smut; kissing, teasing, dirty talk, fingering, protected sex, oral (both receiving/69)

WC: 14.8k 

//

“Y/N, you forgot to sign off on meds.” 

With a very tired sigh, Y/N huffs to herself. She’s been like this all day, messing up here and there, forgetting things she wouldn’t ever usually forget. But that’s what happens when Y/N gets in her head. She makes mistakes and finds it difficult to think straight. 

She wouldn’t have this problem if she didn’t sleep with Harry. If he didn’t sneak out while she slept like she had told him to. But alas, here she is, unable to think about anything else other than the dull ache between her thighs where she craves him the most. 

She probably wouldn’t be this pent up if they spoke about it — or spoke at all in general. But they haven’t, not really. In the last two days, they’ve shared a total of six texts between them, and she doesn’t even have to look at her phone to remind herself of what they say. 

Harry: I left while you were sleeping, thought it would be best that way x

Y/N: yeah, I get it x

Y/N: I won’t be able to come to the club until Wednesday if that’s ok. Working late the next two days

Harry: no stress, come whenever u can x

Y/N: just to make you aware, Mary has started new medication for her diabetes x

Harry: cool, thank you x

The small conversation had been spread over 48 hours and Y/N isn’t sure how to feel about that. Is that a hint that she should take? That he’s not interested in it happening again, even though they alluded to another time when they were together? 

It’s the unknown that’s had her so worked up today. So much so that even now, fixing her mistake on the medication sheet, she somehow almost signs the wrong name off. 

Handing the pen back to Cynthia, Y/N finally grabs her bag and zips up her jacket to leave work. She doesn’t waste a second before opening the door and allowing the biting chill of the night's air to nip at the skin of her face. 

The idea of a steaming hot bath and a glass of white wine sits heavy in her mind as she makes for the car park, tries to think of the best way she can take her mind off Harry this evening. 

She supposes she could catch up with one of her shows, maybe even start the book she bought last week and still hasn’t got round to opening. 

A book, bath and a glass of wine is what she decides on — she might even be cheeky and order food in or pick something up on the way home. 

It’s only a few more steps to her car when she hears an engine turn on a few spaces from her. Headlights light up the dark, illuminating her way slightly and she squints. 

The late shift ended two hours ago and no one else is finishing or starting shift at this time of the night. She wonders if it’s just someone who lives locally that’s using their parking lot, but the harder she looks, the more unnerved she feels. 

Y/N recognises the three faces in the car — two in the front and one in the back. She remembers their intense gazes from the pub just a few nights ago; where Harry got extremely uptight about their presence — and now, they’re here, outside of her work, staring at her. 

That familiar feeling of fear settles heavy in her stomach and as if out of impulse, she begins to slow her speed and sifts through her purse, appearing as though she’s searching for her keys. 

She stops then, subtly pulls her phone out and turns around back toward the building of the care home, like she’s lost what she’s looking for. It’s when her back is completely toward the car and her feet slowly carry her back to the front door to not appear spooked, she’s dialling Harry’s number and bringing the phone to her ear. 

It only rings once and then he answers. 

“Hey,” his voice is light, happy. “I was just about to call you.” 

“Harry, I need you to pick me up from work.” The panic in her voice stirs something worrisome in Harry’s gut and his once airy tone is diminished. 

“Okay, I’m coming. What’s wrong, Penny? Are you okay?” 

“Those guys from the pub the other night are here. They’re in a car right by mine and I’m scared. I don’t know what to fucking do!” 

He’s swallowing down the bile that crawls up his throat, grabbing his keys from the table in the office as he stands. 

“Are you in your car?”

“No, I was walking out of work when I noticed them.”

“Go back inside and meet me out the back. Do not leave the building until I text you.”

“Can you please stay on the phone with me?” 

His heart clenches, hands balling into fists. He doesn’t say anything to anyone as he leaves the club, only a few of the guys training in the space. 

“Yeah, just keep talking to me. How many guys are in the car?” 

Y/N hears him start up his engine as she re-enters the building and rushes through the halls. “Three.” 

Harry doesn’t have to ask what they look like to know who they are. The anger that consumes him begins to shake his body, red slowly blurring his vision and he hasn’t driven this fast since the night of Sammy’s death. 

“Harry, who are they? Why did you get spooked at the pub when you saw them and why the fuck are they waiting outside my work?” 

He doesn’t answer her. “I’ll be two minutes, just stay inside.” 

She doesn’t like the way he dismisses her question, how she’s being left in the dark, purposefully. That fear begins to ache in her fingertips, heart racing against her ribcage and those familiar signs of a panic attack begin to make themselves apparent. 

“Har… I can’t breathe. I’m freaking the fuck out.” 

“Don’t,” he tells her, voice stern. “I’m coming around the corner. It’s gonna be fine…. I’m outside.” 

She pushes through the back door quickly, eyes frantically searching for his Chevy when she finally spots his headlights. Harry flashes them at her, leaning over to open the passenger door and Y/N’s quick to get inside and lock it shut behind her. 

The state she’s in makes Harry feel sick. Eyes like a deer in headlights, fear prominent in every feature. She turns to him with a wild look, swallowing thickly. 

Harry reaches for her hand and gives her a reassuring squeeze before reversing out of the narrow road and turning back around. 

“What the fuck is going on?” 

He keeps his eyes fixed on the road, ignoring her question until she calls his name again, much sterner this time. 

“Tell me what is going on.” 

He looks at her briefly, dragging his eyes back to the road again. This is not how he wanted it to go. He didn’t want her caught up in this mess and he didn’t want to have to be the one to explain Sammy’s death. Much less under these circumstances. 

“I’m going to take you back to my place and I’ll explain everything there, okay?” 

Y/N shakes her head profusely, tearing her hand from Harry’s hold as the panic refuses to subside. 

“No, that’s not okay. Harry, I can’t—“

“Penny! Stop. Do you trust me?” 

She blinks at him. “What?” 

“Do you trust me?” he repeats, accentuating every word. 

It’s not something she needs to think about. Maybe it’s a bit crazy, a bit premature, but she does trust him. With her life. 

She nods her head once. “I trust you.” 

Her words sit a little heavy in Harry’s chest. She trusts him. The confirmation of it doesn’t relax him like he thought it would. Because Sam trusted him, and Harry was too late. 

He’ll be damned if history repeats itself. 

“Then trust when I say I’ll explain everything when we get home. You’re safe with me, and I need you to calm down.” 

He knows it’s easier said than done but when he doesn’t hear Y/N complain, and he feels her relax into her seat the best she can, that heaviness sits a little lighter. 

“Okay.” 

The usual forty minute drive to Harry’s apartment takes just under twenty minutes. The roads are clear and Harry’s not ashamed to admit he stepped on the gas a little harder than usual. 

To him, this isn’t a time to take a leisurely drive and admire the night's view. Because if this is anything like before, it’s life or death and Harry won’t allow the latter. 

His flat is on the third floor of a fairly large complex. It’s stealth-like, how he guides her through the halls and into his flat. She takes it in for a few seconds. Clean, tidy, minimal. 

Like he can up and leave at any given moment if necessary. 

Harry throws his keys on the coffee table and rushes to the window, closing the blinds before wandering to the kitchen to do the same. A frown sits heavy between his brows and there’s something a bit erratic about him. 

The composure she had just moments before is quickly dwindling and soon enough, she’s back to panicking again. 

“Can you tell me what the fuck is going on now?” 

Harry chews on the inside of his cheek, hands on his hips as he looks at her. Neither of them really take into consideration that this is the first time they’ve seen each other since they slept together. 

And now is not a time to bring it up either. 

Harry huffs. “Look, those guys are bad news. Mentally fucking insane, okay? They had it out for Sam and now they’re after you.” 

Y/N stares at him, blinking her eyes wide. “Excuse me?” 

He doesn’t want to tell her, can't stomach the idea of it, but Harry knows he doesn’t have a choice. He can’t keep her in the dark about her brother forever. And now that the same people are after her, she deserves to know the truth. 

“Sam wasn’t always this great guy, Penny. He had a dark side and they were a part of it.” 

The mention of her late brother makes her heart twist. Her chest begins to rattle as she tries to take in his words. To understand what he’s trying to get at. 

“What are you trying to say?” She poses the question carefully, not wanting to read the situation wrong. 

A look of softness flashes across Harry’s face as he takes a step closer. “Sammy’s death wasn’t an accident,” he begins, “Those guys ran him off the road and killed him.”

It’s all too much and everything starts caving in on her. Y/N can hardly breathe, can barely even see. There’s a drumming in her head that deafens her, a haze in her eyes that blinds her. 

Her brother didn’t pass away. He was taken — his soul torn from his body before he was ready to go, and Y/N can’t stomach that. Can’t handle the truth of what Harry’s told her. 

How is she supposed to live her life now? Knowing her brother was murdered. Knowing they are the reason for it. 

“Why?” she cries through laboured breaths. 

“Sam owed them money.”

“How much?” 

There’s a pause, and then… “Thirty grand.” 

She’s completely exasperated, struggling to comprehend anything he’s saying. Was thirty grand really worth his life? 

“He was late in paying them,” Harry continues. “We had Feds on our backs watching the club and all of our transactions, we couldn’t risk it.” 

Y/N looks at him, brows pinched tightly as she struggles to see through the onslaught of tears. “So he just refused?” 

Harry shakes his head. “No, not at first. But then they uh… they went after this girl he’d been seeing—“

“—Amira?”

Harry nods. “They tried scaring her, to give Sam a message. They roughed her up — Penny…” he pauses, like he’s preparing himself to say what he needs to, and just when Y/N thinks it couldn’t get worse, it does, “She was pregnant. And she lost the baby because of it.” 

Harry doesn’t give her time to properly process his words, figures it’ll be best to rip most of the bandaid off at once rather than in small increments. 

“Sam lost his shit, told them that they’ll never see their money and that he was after them. One night, they showed up at the club and all Hell broke loose. They ran, we followed — Sam in one car and me in another.” 

The way his voice begins to dwindle with every passing word makes Y/N’s stomach sink. Like she knows what he’s leading up to, that he’s about to divulge the traumatic truth of her brother's death. 

She doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want to hear what will haunt her for the rest of her life. But her heart needs the truth — needs to understand what happened to him, needs revenge. 

“Sam was always a better driver; faster,” he croaks, and he falls silent for a second or two until he speaks again with a broken voice. “I heard the sound the same time I turned the corner — his car had flipped and was wrapped around a telephone pole. And they were gone.” 

Her heart is in her stomach, a numbing pain searing through her veins. Pain for Amira and their baby, pain for Sam, pain for herself. But with the pain comes anger. Anger toward the men that killed him. Anger toward the fact that Harry’s always had this knowledge of Sam’s death and didn’t say anything until now, when he felt he had to. 

“You’ve known this whole time.”

There’s little to no emotion in her voice, and the blank expression in her eyes begins to unnerve Harry slightly. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologises, “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“So you just weren't going to tell me at all?” 

Harry’s growing frustrated but he knows he has no right. He kept this secret from her, he chose to protect her from the truth and is only now realising the consequences of that decision. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “You can hate me all you want but right now, we need to get out of here.” 

A slither of confusion cracks through that empty facade as she takes in the desperation of his voice. Like she’s only now just remembering the severity of the situation they’re in. 

“What?” 

“It’s a matter of time before they check your place, check mine and then riot the club. They didn’t just stop after Sam. They’re trying to take over The Box and that includes getting rid of you and I.”

That all consuming panic is quick to surge through her body, chest rising and falling rapidly as the anger subsides to fear. 

“So… so we need to leave town.” 

He nods slowly at her shaky words, allowing her to take the lead as much as she can so she doesn't feel forced. Y/N scratches at her forehead, keeps her eyes on the ground below her. 

“Okay. Uh… I take it we can’t go back to my place. Can I, like, borrow some clothes or something?” 

“Yeah,” Harry breathes. “I’ll pack a bag now, you should probably call work, tell them there’s a family emergency and you won’t be in for a few days.” 

He leaves her for a few minutes, rushing off to pack a bag in his bedroom. Y/N’s fumbling to type a text to her manager, struggles to keep the tears at bay. 

It’s all too much. It’s one thing to find out her brother was murdered, but to hear the same people that killed him are after her and Harry now? She feels like she can’t breathe. 

//

“Hi, d’you have any more rooms available for the night?” 

He’s softly tapping his finger on the reception desk, eyes on Y/N as he speaks and she’s full of the jitters. 

Harry sped their way to the next town over, pulling into the first motel they came across. She was silent for the majority of the drive, too in her head to offer a coherent conversation but Harry understood, so he didn’t press it. 

And she’s the same now, curled into herself as Harry hands over enough cash to pay for their room for tonight, and lugs the bags in his hands with the room key, making toward the elevator. 

“I’m sorry I kept the truth from you, I didn’t want to taint your memories of him.” He breaks the silence as the door closes and they’re carried higher through the building. 

“That wasn’t for you to decide.”

It’s quiet but he hears her, loud and clear. Harry hates that he’s made her feel this way – that he’s gotten her mixed up in this shitshow. He’s guilty, blames himself for everything that happened to Sam, everything that’s now happening to her.

“I’m sorry,” she squeaks out. 

He looks down at her, brows pinched as she gazes up at him through fluttering lashes and hooded eyes, “What for?” 

“None of this is your fault, I know you were only trying to protect me from the truth. Don’t do that again.” 

Harry nods curtly as the doors open and he leads them down the hall in search of their room for the night. He unlocks it, flicks on the lights and lets Y/N walk through first. 

It’s nothing special, just a standard cheap hotel room, but what does catch Y/N’s eye is the bed. Just the one. And she’s reminded of the last time she saw him, when he was in her bedroom, fucking the life out of her. Despite the circumstances, she’s not opposed to sharing a bed – it might make her feel a little safer – but they’ve not discussed their previous meet-up and she doesn’t know what to make of it. 

Harry notices how her gaze stays fixated on the bed and heat rises to his cheeks. “I’ll take the sofa.”

Y/N turns to him, brows pinched. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re not exactly strangers, Harry. We’ve literally had sex together — I think we’re past the formalities.” 

The bluntness of her words has Harry’s eyes widening. His lips part in shock at how brazen she appears about their hook-up. Harry had begun to think she regretted it, and that was why she didn’t bring it up. 

Clearly, he’s been sorely mistaken. He thinks. 

He clears his throat, forcing a cough. “Right.” 

He plants the bag on the sofa and retrieves a pair of boxer shorts and an old t-shirt, handing them both to Y/N. She takes them, guides herself to the bathroom and shuts the door. 

It takes Harry a few seconds to regulate his breathing — to get a grip on his emotions and the numbing fear that rattles his body. The whole ordeal is a bit too triggering for him — like he’s potentially going to relive his best friend's death through Y/N. 

He doesn’t know what scares him more. What could happen to her or the lengths he’ll go to to protect her. Either thought is too much to process, so instead he lets his mind wonder about the other situation at hand. 

She’s about to get into bed with him, wearing his clothes, after they hooked up a couple of days ago and are yet to discuss what the hell it means for them. 

And Harry’s aware that it’s definitely not an appropriate time to be thinking about it, but he is. Because he hasn’t been able to stop since it happened. 

He’s torn from his thoughts when the bathroom door opens and Y/N creeps into the bedroom. His heart is lodged in his throat at the sight. His clothes are too big for her and her legs look incredibly soft and smooth, the hem of his t-shirt barely covering her bum. 

“There’s a spare toothbrush on the side. Bathroom’s all yours.” 

There’s not much emotion in her voice now, and Harry can tell from her puffy eyes that she’s been crying behind that bathroom door. His heart cracks a little but he doesn’t say anything. 

Instead he uses the bathroom, strips into a pair of boxers (hoping Y/N won’t mind as he didn’t pack a whole lot of clothes), and brushes his teeth before joining her in the hotel room again. 

She’s under the covers now, only his bedside lamp on and Harry’s heart starts to thump. It’s been a while since he’s laid in bed with someone without something happening. 

Nevertheless, he crawls in beside her and flicks off the light. He keeps a respectable distance between them but still close enough to make out the shadows of her face. That’s when he hears it, the soft sniffles and shaky breath. 

A sigh escapes his lips as he shuffles closer with arms outstretched. He half expects her to push him away, tell him no, she’s still angry with him, but she doesn’t. She coddles herself into his chest instead and lets him hold her — comfort her. 

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Penny. I promise.”

And while she appreciates the reassuring words, it doesn’t do much to soothe her fear and anxiety. Nothing could make her feel safe right now — not even Harry’s warm and strong body keeping her close. Not completely safe, anyway. Not now that she knows the truth. 

What she thinks she needs is a distraction. Something to make her forget, even just for a short while. So it’s not really a surprise to her when she finds herself pulling out of Harry’s hold just enough to crane her neck up to look at him. 

He’s already gazing down at her, eyes as dark as the night. With softly puckered lips, Y/N leans up just enough to press a gentle kiss against his mouth. 

It surprises Harry, if he’s honest. He never would’ve taken her for someone to initiate things first, but he has to remind himself that she’s the type of girl to go after what she wants, and she was the one to initiate things last time. 

He kisses her back just as softly, lips moulding to hers as they both lay on their sides, Y/N lifting her leg to wrap it around Harry’s waist. 

It’s a bold hint that Harry gets, and he pulls away slowly to get a look at her, to search for a single shred of doubt or hesitation. When he falls short, he noses at her temple. 

“It’s probably not a good idea tonight,” he breathes, trying desperately to ignore the way his cock lunges. “Your emotions are really heightened right now. I don’t want you to regret it in the morning.” 

She shakes her head. “I won’t. I didn’t regret it last time,” she tells him, “I just need to forget for a little while.”

Harry swallows thickly. So she doesn’t regret it. And she wants it to happen again, right now, to forget. 

“I uh,” he clears his throat, “I don’t have anything — I don’t have a condom with me.” 

Y/N blinks, lips parting. The idea of not using one does cross both of their minds but they’re smarter than that. 

Her hand reaches between their bodies, fingertips grazing across the throbbing length of Harry’s hard cock beneath his boxers. 

“We can do other stuff, can’t we?” 

Her voice is a sensual whisper and it makes his head spin. She’s compelling, everything about her. So he’s not very shocked when he finds himself nodding his head and leaning down to greet her in a kiss again. 

Y/N palms at his clothed cock, hips gently rocking as she tries to get closer. This is what she needs. Him. Anything he’ll give her to make her forget what life is like right now — what she’s running from. 

Harry’s hand cups the side of her jaw, kissing her a little harder. Her spare hand reaches for his wrist to move it away, guides it down their bodies and between her legs until he’s cupping her aching heat through (his) boxers. 

“Are you sure?” 

She squeezes his cock, dipping her fingers into the waistband of his underwear. “Touch me, Har. Need it so bad.” 

He swallows thickly, palming at her heat as a shuddered moan slips from her lips and into his mouth. She wraps her cool fingers around his shift, a hiss sounding from the back of his throat. 

“Need to forget everything, H. Just want you.” 

The neediness in her voice sends him spiralling, latching his mouth to hers with as much force as he can muster. The kiss is messy, dirty — all tongue and teeth and Y/N thinks it’s the hottest thing she’s ever experienced. 

Her hand begins to bob on his cock, long strokes and as she reaches his tip, small beads of precum coat her fingers, smearing across his length. He seethes, a hum soon following as he tries to stay quiet. 

But Y/N doesn’t want him to be quiet. She wants to hear him, how she’s making him feel. 

She pumps a little faster, grip a little tighter. Harry’s sneaking his fingers into the boxers she’s wearing, swirling his fingers between her folds and she’s soaked — almost dripping, really. 

“Jesus Christ, Penny. You’re fucking soaked.” 

She moans into his mouth, bucking her hips against his hand. “I told you not to call me that,” she pants. 

“M’sorry, baby.”

She nods against the kiss. “Yeah, that’s better.”

A breathily laugh escapes Harry’s mouth, his finger prodding at her fluttering hole. She’s eager for him, desperate. Just wants to feel full of him — of whatever he can give her. 

He continues to tease her, thumb on her clit while she lazily tugs at his cock. It’s not enough for her, the gentle touches, she wants her brain turned to mush so she has no choice but to not think. 

Maybe that’s why she shuffles her position beside him until she’s kneeling by his hips and tugging his cock free from the confinements of his boxers.

Harry watches with hooded eyes as she leans down to press a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to his leaking tip. His head falls back against the pillows, chest rising and falling rapidly as she works her warm mouth on his cock. 

He keeps his hand between her thighs, fingers pinching delicately at her puffy clit, a little too fucked on the feeling of her moaning around him. 

Y/N licks messily from the base to the head, swirling her tongue across his slit before taking him into her mouth. She doesn’t mess about with it, takes as much as she can at once and lets him hit at the back of her throat. 

A gruff moan escapes Harry’s lips as she gags around him, spluttering profusely as strings of saliva dribble from the corners of her mouth. 

He reaches his spare hand down for her head, tugging at the roots of her hair to get her attention. “Turn around,” he breathes heavily. 

She pulls off him, brows pinched. “What?” 

“I wanna taste you at the same time,” he gulps. “Turn around.” 

His hand leaves her head, reaching for the boxers on her waist to tug them down while the other continues its assault on her dripping cunt. He relents for a moment to tug the underwear down her thighs and past her ankles, throwing them across the room and helping situate her above his face. 

She lets out a squeak at his eagerness, nose bumping the tip of his cock but Harry doesn’t care. Her cunt hovers over him, soaked and puffy and a quiet moan slips from his lips at the sight.

With his hands on her hips, he eases her down to latch his mouth around her cunt, slurping at her wetness as he’s finally awarded a taste of her. And he’s hooked. Completely fucked out. She’s sweeter than anything he’s ever had before and he’ll be devastated if she never allows him a taste again. 

Y/N covers him with her mouth, suckling as much as she can fit and bobbing her head with every stroke her tongue offers to the underside of his cock. They’re both messy and sloppy with their actions, eager and desperate for a release.

The hotel room will no doubt stink of sex for days after, but neither of them care. They can barely think straight as it is. 

Harry can’t get over the taste of her, wants it staining his tongue for the rest of his life. He reaches a finger down to probe at her hole, pushing in with ease as she clenches around him. 

Y/N lets out a muffled moan around his cock, the sound sending vibrations through Harry’s body which makes him twitch against her tongue. 

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he mumbles against her cunt, finger curling before he adds a second one and fucks them into her. 

Her thighs are trembling from the sides of his head, locking him in slightly to stop him trying to move away. Y/N takes him deeper into her mouth, relaxing her jaw and Harry takes the hint to start bucking his hips into her. 

It’s filthy, the noises she makes, the way his cock jabs at the back of her throat. Her pussy grips his fingers like a vice, walls fluttering and he knows she’s close. With his spare hand, Harry strikes a smack to her ass, pawing at the fleshy skin before spanking her again. 

She’s positively dripping into his mouth, her body so worked up that she can barely keep consciousness. Her eyes are stinging with tears as he thrusts harsher, effectively restricting her air supply as he does so. 

But she’s never been so turned on in her life. Sixty-nine-ing with Harry in the pitch dark. 

“Fuck! Baby, I’m gonna come.” 

He expects her to pull off him, but she doesn’t. Instead, Y/N forces her mouth further down and sucks, hand reaching between his thighs to massage his balls. 

He’s crying out her name as he releases, spurts of warm come shooting down her throat as her own orgasm rakes through her body. 

Harry laps it up the best he can, cock still buried down her throat as she comes around his fingers and drips into his mouth. She’s begging for him, whining his name as he removes his fingers and sucks them dry. 

She can feel him soften against her tongue, and with as much energy as she can muster up, she pulls off him with a heavy breath. 

“Y’okay?” 

She hums, a little floaty if she’s honest but it worked. It made her forget and now all she wants to do is sleep. 

“Mhm, thank you.”

Harry grins tiredly to himself, helping her off his chest and to lay back beside him. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and plants a gentle kiss to her forehead. 

“Let me get you some water.” 

Y/N watches him through bleary eyes as his cute, naked bum moves over to the desk across the room. He comes back, soft length still impressive, and hands the bottle to her with the cap undone. 

“Here, take a sip,” he guides the bottle to her lips and encourages her to drink before taking a swig for himself. 

Harry climbs into the bed beside her, arms outstretched and she’s quick to nuzzle into his hold. He strokes the hair from her face, keeping her close. 

“Get some sleep. I promise I’ll still be here in the morning.” 

//

Rustling from outside the hotel room is what stirs Harry awake. He’s groggy as he blinks away the sleep, arms aching from Y/N’s head as she lays cuddled up to his chest.

His heart swells for a moment at the sight of her — and then he hears it again, the noise. There’s whispers and footsteps padding outside the door, three voices.

He’s careful when he stands, not wanting to wake Y/N if he’s just overreacting. But when he levels his eyes with the peephole of the door, his flight or fight kicks in and his heart thumps in his ears.

Harry pulls away from the peephole quickly, back against the door as he tries to remain as silent as humanly possible. Y/N stirs in the bed, reaching out for him but he’s not there to cuddle again.

Her eyes flutter open, brows furrowed as she slowly lifts her head from the pillow in search of him. That’s where she spots him, against the door with a bewildered look in his eyes.

Her mouth opens to speak, but she quickly shuts it when Harry brings a finger to his lips, signalling her to stay quiet. Her heart begins to thump again, bile in her throat and she’s frozen on the bed, sheets clutched close to her naked body.

“Let’s try upstairs,” he hears Ryce say, “They’re not on this floor.”

Harry waits a moment before turning his body to peek through the peephole again. They’re slowly sauntering off down the hall, clicking the button for the elevator and stepping inside shortly after. He turns back to Y/N, chest heaving and eyes wide.

“Penny, get dressed. We need to leave, now.”

It’s a rush, to get dressed and throw everything haphazardly into Harry’s backpack. Their hearts patter wildly, breathing ragged as fear consumes the pair of them.

It’s frantic, how he looks at her, keeping her behind his back as he slowly opens the door to peek his head out. He scans the hall, straining his ears for any sound of movement and when he falls short, he very quickly and quietly tugs her out of the hotel room.

Harry leads them to the staircase, trainers skidding across the linoleum floors with every step they jump down.

“They found us, didn’t they?” she asks through laboured breaths.

He doesn’t reply, instead tightens his hold on her hand and forces her to move quicker, taking three steps at a time instead of two and she struggles to keep up with his long strides.

Harry pushes through the door of the stairs, not slowing as they race through reception and out into the cool air of the early morning. It’s then that they break into a sprint across the parking lot to reach Harry’s Chevy.

Then they hear footsteps, the door of the hotel building slamming shut. Harry throws a glance over his shoulder, catching sight of the three lunatics that are after them.

They’re slowly approaching, picking up their pace as Harry and Y/N get closer to the car. He unlocks it from a distance and throws the backpack to Y/N.

He turns to her, finger pointing in her face. “Lock yourself in the car. If they get the upper hand, you drive and you don’t look back.”

The look on his face scares her, rattles her to her core. She tries to shake her head but Harry’s shoving the keys in the palm of her hand and pushing her closer to the vehicle.

The three of them grab him at once; Ryce and Scott holding him by the arms and shoulders as the bigger man, George, throws punches against his stomach. The sight of it makes her sick, has her knees buckling and heart aching.

Nimble fingers struggle to open the car, brain fuzzy as she rushes to throw the bags in the back seats. Y/N shuts the door behind her, locking the car again as her chest rises and falls with every shaky break she takes.

It’s torture, watching as they beat him – the way they pin his arms back and take advantage of his inability to fight back. He takes every hit and punch like a man, doesn’t allow his guard to falter no matter how hard the strikes may hurt.

And it’s like they see that, too. Like they notice it’ll take a lot more than a few blows to ruin him. Maybe that’s why George relents his assault for a moment and fixes his gaze to the car – to Y/N, cowering in the backseats like a lamb ready for slaughter.

And it’s when he slowly begins to stalk toward her that Harry’s heart begins to thump a little too hard. It’s when George starts to bash his hands against the backseat window that he starts to burn a fueling fire of rage.

He struggles against the hold that Scott and Ryce have over him, unable to tear his arms out of reach. Until he hears her scream and the backseat window smashing.

Y/N can’t breathe, heart lodged in her throat and tears stinging at her vision. She watches completely frozen as George reaches his hand in and unlocks the door. Watches the sadistic smirk that plasters across his lips as he opens the door and reaches for her ankles.

“No! Get off of me!”

Her screams are futile, her body breaking into hysterical movements. Her legs kick harshly at his grabbing hands, her foot striking his throat which allows her barely a few seconds to search for something, anything.

Y/N’s eyes avert to the footwell of the passenger's seat when she sees it. A crowbar. Her fingers wrap around the metal at the same time George’s wrap around her ankles. She’s pulled from the backseats, back crashing onto the concrete of the parking lot. And in one swift motion, her arm swings forward and the curve of the bar wraps around the side of George’s head.

In an instant, his heavy build falls off her – collapsing onto his side. She waits for a beat, her eyes wide and searching for any sign of life. There’s no blood, no sound. Tentatively and with trembling hands, she leans closer to his still body and poises her fingers beneath his nose.

One breath. Two, three.

She clambers away from him with a deep breath, unsteady as she rises to her feet. She’s allowed no time to process the situation, to calm herself. Because right before her eyes, Harry is fighting for his freedom.

This time, Ryce has Harry’s arms pinned behind his back, looping with his own and Scott delivers much harder blows to Harry’s face and torso. His legs kick out, arms thrashing in Ryce’s hold but it doesn’t do much damage.

Tightening her grasp around the crowbar, Y/N doesn’t quite know what comes over her. Whether it’s fear, anger or something entirely different. Whatever it is, compels her to swing the crowbar across the backs of Ryce’s legs – the shock and force of the blow buckling his knees just enough for his hold on Harry to relent.

Y/N doesn’t give him time to turn before she jumps onto his back with her legs around his waist and the crowbar wrapped around his throat. Her body moulds to his like a bear hug, an unknown strength unleashing itself in a desperate attempt to keep him from Harry just long enough to regain his strength.

And Harry doesn’t waste a moment of the opportunity. His fist beats against Scott’s face in rhythmic blows until his body is on the ground and he can’t fight back. Harry’s knuckles stain with blood and grazes, delivering a final pinch to the bridge of Scott’s nose before climbing off his bruised body.

His chest heaves, every breath feeling as though it tears his lungs. Harry spits the build up of blood in his mouth on the floor, rolling his shoulders back and flexing his fingers before they return to their fisted state.

Ryce is red in the face, fingers wrapping around the crowbar that Y/N pulls against his throat. The anger in her face is starling to Harry, something he’s never seen before — not even in himself. A hatred so pure it could kill.

Harry approaches them quickly as Ryce throws back his elbow and it meets with the side of Y/N’s stomach. All at once, her hold on the crowbar and him falters and she’s sliding off his back and doubling over on the concrete.

Ryce throws a punch but Harry is quick to dodge, despite the fact he’s still attempting to catch his breath. Before he rises, he reaches for the crowbar and swings it against the side of Ryce’s body.

He seethes out in pain, struggles to stand straight to fight back. He messily throws his fist, easier for Harry to dodge this time and he returns it with another blow across his knees with the crowbar.

Harry throws it to the side, watching with heavy breaths as Ryce tries to steady himself again. Harry doesn’t give him the chance. He squares his fist against the side of his face and he pummels to the ground.

It’s silent for a moment, aside from Harry’s rapid breathing and Y/N’s soft whimpers as she clutches her stomach and steadies herself on her feet again.

Harry backs away from the mess they’ve created, guilt crawling up his throat as he turns to look at her. There’s a cold expression painted across her face, eyes void of anything other than a predatory gaze.

She’s got the look of someone who’s desperate to survive. That’s what this is now, sink or swim. And she knows it.

They don’t share any words, just a look. But that’s all that’s needed. That one look says everything. They’re in this together — it’s them against anyone who tries it.

It’s silent as they both get into the car, Harry picking his keys up from the floor before he starts the engine.

It’s silent when they pull out of the car park, the sound of the cold air whipping through the shattered window in the backseats.

It’s silent until Y/N finally speaks. “Where are we going?”

Harry waits a beat, eyes focussed on the road. He can’t bring himself to look at her, to be faced with her expressionless gaze again. So he looks forward, grips the wheel and clears his throat.

“To see an old friend.”

//

His body is beginning to hurt as he pulls into the familiar garage. It’s been a while since Harry’s been here and everything looks the exact same as it did last time.

He kills the engine, lets his hands slip from the wheel and he finally turns to Y/N, who’s already looking at him. She takes him in, properly. The cuts and bruises that begin to form on his soft skin, the bags that protrude under his eyes from lack of sleep and a couple of punches he caught.

It hurts her heart to no end. She wishes none of this was happening.

“Are you okay?” he finally speaks, voice soft.

She nods, but they both know she’s not. Not really.

“Are you?”

He huffs out a small laugh and reaches for her hand that sits in her lap. “I’ve been better.”

She doesn’t understand it — how he always has the energy to try to make light out of any situation. Y/N looks away briefly, taking in the surroundings of the garage.

It’s like any other she’s been to. A few old cars spread across the place, some that are very clearly undrivable and others that she thinks probably only needed a quick fix.

Her brows pinch when she thinks about why they’re here. Is a blown back window really what’s important right now? She looks back to Harry with parted lips, but he already knows what she’s going to say.

“It’s my friend's garage. He’ll be able to help with more than just a smashed window.”

Y/N nods curtly, unsure if she’s understanding what he’s letting on. She also doesn’t have any suggestions as to what the fuck else they could do to help them out of this situation, so she puts all her trust in him and this unknown friend, and prays that her brother will keep them as safe as he can.

Her eyes look forward again, noticing a man and woman emerging from a wide door to the left. She looks back to Harry, a smile on his face as he opens the door and clambers out.

Y/N follows suit, shrinking into herself a little as the two unfamiliar faces grow closer.

“No call?” the man speaks loudly, arms across his chest.

Harry shrugs, walking closer. “No time.”

A smile breaks across the man’s face as he and Harry meet in a brotherly embrace. They’re squeezing tight, smacking each other’s backs until the man pulls away and gets a look at his friends face.

“Christ, H… did you even get a hit in?”

Harry smacks him in the chest and moves slightly to greet the woman. “Hey, Ashley. How’ve you been?”

She offers him a small hug and smiles. “Better than you it appears.”

Harry pulls away with a seemingly shy smile, turning back to Y/N who remains hovering by the Chevy. He points to her with an open palm. “Penny, this is Ashley and Jimmy. Guys, this is Y/N… Sammy’s sister.”

A heavy silence falls upon the shop – so quiet they’d be able to hear a pin drop. She offers a half wave, pursed lips and teary eyes. Harry is quick to make his way by her side again, an arm wrapped loosely around her waist to offer some form of reassurance.

“Jimmy and Sam used to knock about together,” he tells her. “Jim’s actually the one that found the club and convinced Sammy to take it on.”

He offers a polite smile and wave but there’s nothing but pity in his eyes. “I’m sorry for your loss. Sam was a one-of-a-kind kid.”

She nods, doesn’t want to reminisce on her late brother. Not right now. Not after the morning they’ve had.

Harry clears his throat and scratches at the nape of his neck. “M’sorry to throw it on you guys, but d’you mind if we crash for the night? We’re in a bit of a mess right now.”

There’s no hesitation when both Jimmy and Ashley nod their heads. “Of course, stay as long as you need. Come on upstairs, I’m just about to fix up some lunch, you guys can get cleaned up.”

Harry follows them through the garage, hand on Y/N’s lower back to guide her through. She stays close to him, far too on edge to be as trusting as Harry. She has to remind herself that they were also Sammy’s friends. And he didn’t put his trust in just anybody.

“Thank you, I promise we’ll be out of your hair by morning.”

Their apartment above the garage is nice. It’s rustic and chic at the same time and Y/N finds herself drawn to the canvases that litter the walls in the hall and living room.

Jimmy seems to notice. “They’re Ash’s,” he says with a smile. “She’s a wicked artist.”

Y/N hums, a small smile painting its way on her own lips. She’s desperately trying to ignore the dull ache in the side of her stomach, tries to play it off like every breath isn’t hindering her in some small way.

They follow through to the kitchen, the same sort of vibe with a wooden kitchen island and black, steel stools. Harry guides her to take a seat and sits himself beside her, both watching Ash as she pours them each a cup of coffee.

“Did the Chevy take as much damage as you?”

Harry scoffs out a laugh and takes a sip of his drink. “Still as mouthy as ever,” he quips back. “But no, she’s just fine – apart from the back window. That got smashed to fuck.”

Y/N watches them back and forth, how they talk with such ease, like the past twelve hours didn’t happen. It has her head spinning, has her second-guessing that Harry isn’t taking this as seriously as he made her believe.

She stands abruptly from her stool, the steel screeching across the hardwood floors. All eyes fall on her and she gulps. “Can I use your bathroom?”

Ashley nods, pointing to the door just down the hall. Y/N mumbles a quiet ‘thanks’ before rushing off and pressing her back behind the locked door.

She just needs a moment. A moment to think and breathe. This is all way too much for her to handle right now and she’s never felt so alone in her entire life. It hurts her heart, her head – everything. Tears are stinging at her waterline, threatening to spill over but she wills them not to.

A small knock on the door is heard and then… “Penny? It’s me.”

Y/N swallows down her feelings and unlocks the door. Harry lets himself in; worrisome eyes and tender hands on her arms as he closes the door behind him.

“Y’okay? I know this is all probably scaring you.”

She stares at him blankly. “Scaring me? Harry, I’m fucking terrified and you’re out there laughing without a care in the world, having a catchup with an old friend, while I’m just silently freaking the fuck out.”

He coos her, pulls her into his chest and ignores the pain he feels as he holds her close. “M’sorry, m’just trying to forget about it all for a moment. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, I swear.”

Her breathing is erratic against his chest, hands balling fists of his shirt on his back. Harry strokes the hair from her face and kisses her temple, shushing her the best he can to try and encourage her to steady her breathing.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles into him.

Harry shakes his head. “You’ve got nothing to apologise for. Why don’t you go for a nap, hmm? Jimmy’s gonna take a look at the damage on the window and I’m gonna talk him through everything that’s happened… see if he has any ideas.”

While a nap does sound good, Y/N’s not sure she’ll be able to switch her mind off. She doesn’t tell Harry that, though. She figures he’s also got enough on his mind, he doesn’t need to be dealing with her fussing all because she can’t sleep.

So she nods her head and pulls out of his embrace. “Yeah, okay. A nap sounds good.”

//

It turns out it wasn’t as hard to fall asleep as Y/N thought it would be. As it goes, severe stress and exhaustion happen to have that effect when the adrenaline wears off.

Ashley was kind enough to lend Y/N a spare top and some sweatpants, washing her previous clothes so they would be clean and dry for when they leave tomorrow. She stretches in the bed of the guestroom, eyes flickering to the clock that reads 17:08 and her eyes widen.

She didn’t expect for a little nap to turn into five hours of sleep and she’s slightly upset that Harry didn’t think to wake her. Her stomach grumbles and it’s only now that she realises she hasn’t eaten in just over twenty-four hours.

Her fluffy sock-clad feet carry her out into the hall, light chit-chat coming from the very end and she follows to the source of it.

They all sit at the kitchen island; Jimmy, Ashley and Harry. There’s a frown set between each of their eyebrows but Harry’s soothes out when he notices Y/N’s lingering presence by the doorway.

“Hey, are you feeling any better?”

She hums. “A little.”

He pulls out a chair for her to take, Jimmy and Ashley quietly talking between themselves as Y/N sits with them. Harry offers her his drink and she takes the glass in her hands, swirling the brown liquid as she brings it to her lips.

“It’s whis—“

She gulps down his drink before he can even finish — doesn’t even care what it is just that any drop of alcohol will do for now.

He stifles a laugh and takes back the empty glass, reaching for the bottle on the middle of the table to refill his drink.

“What are you talking about?” she asks, all eyes now on her.

Harry clears his throat. “Just trying to figure out how to get rid of the guys that are after us.”

She raises a brow, somewhat expectant. “Any luck?”

“No, not yet.” She hears a voice, her eyes following the sound to Harry’s phone that’s on the kitchen island, Niall’s contact on the screen.

“Oh,” she peeps quietly. “Hi, Niall.”

“Hey, Y/N. How are you holding up?”

She scoffs. “About as well as Bambi on ice.”

He laughs at her comment, a hearty one at that. Harry smiles softly at her, can feel the nerves and anxiety bubbling off her aura in waves. It hurts to see her like this, so curled into herself and scared.

“So, let’s lay it all out again,” Ashley speaks a little louder.

Harry and Jimmy lean forward in their seats simultaneously. “As far as we’re aware, it’s just the three of them; the brothers—“

“—Wait, they’re brothers?” Y/N pipes up with knitted brows.

Harry nods. “Mhm. A lot of the guys that train at The Box were in gangs, the Scavello brothers were rivals to a bunch of them. They’ve all got screws loose, multiple personality disorders.”

“And schizophrenia. The worst case of it.” Niall chips in.

The newfound information does nothing to cease her fears. If anything, it only intensifies tenfold and Y/N begins to find it difficult to breathe.

“Right,” Harry swallows thickly. “So it’s the three brothers, all hellbent on getting revenge for Sammy not paying them they’re thirty grand. We already know they won’t stop until they get the club or feel… satisfied enough to move on.”

There’s something about the way Harry words it that makes Y/N shiver. She doesn’t know how much longer of this she can take, how much more dangerous it’ll get. At what point will they feel satisfied? When they’re run out of town? When they’re beaten and bloody? When they’re six feet under like her brother?

“They’re known for a lot of shady shit, too. Few years ago Ryce had stabbed someone in a pub… pretty sure he’s still on the wanted list.” Niall speaks again, like that’s the worst thing they’ve ever done.

Y/N has to bite her tongue. She doesn’t know if they’re aware of the truth about Sam’s death. And if they’re not, she isn’t about to announce it. She won’t allow for him to be remembered as the guy they killed.

Not now. Not ever.

“So have you not thought about tipping off the police?” Ashley asks, slightly incredulous as if it’s the most obvious option there is. (Which in all honesty, Y/N completely agrees with).

But Jimmy shakes his head profusely, clasping his hands together on the kitchen island. “No, no way. The Feds are already suspecting the club of illegal activity. It’s just going to give them more ammo. This needs to be dealt with in-house.” He points his finger downward, tapping against the counter.

Y/N chews on the inside of her cheek, the gears ticking in her head as she thinks of an alternative idea.

“What about a set up?” she suggests. “We meet them somewhere and… Ash, maybe you could call in and say you’ve driven past a group of guys attacking a couple…. If they get arrested it could give us some time to figure out something more solid?”

She knows it’s a lame idea, but it’s something. No one else seems to be putting theories to the table.

And of course, Harry is the first to shake his head. “No, too dangerous and they won’t fall for that. They’re insane but they’re not stupid.”

She slumps at his words, slightly offended by his tone but she doesn’t let herself get into that. Really, Harry’s distaste to her idea is the least of anyone’s concerns right now.

All eyes fall on the phone in the centre of the table, “Any ideas, Ni?”

He’s silent for a moment, then a huff is heard. “Personally, I think the best option will be to come back to the club. They’re gonna riot at some point. Might aswel be prepared for it. We’ll get the boys in tomorrow and figure out a plan between the lot of us.”

It’s a bit annoying that the simplest of ideas doesn’t suck. That logically, it’s probably the smartest and safest move to make. Because Niall is right. Eventually, the brothers will riot the club, and what the fuck are three psychos against a gym full of angry boxers?

The doorbell sounds through the kitchen and pulls Y/N from her thoughts. Jimmy stands, legs of his stool scratching against the floor as he grabs his wallet from his back pocket.

“Let’s call it a night then. Pizzas here. We’ll regroup tomorrow.”

The mention of food almost has Y/N’s mouth watering. They say their goodbyes to Niall, no one’s stress easing in the slightest but at least they have somewhat of a plan and she doesn’t feel so alone anymore.

Those boys at the gym would fight tooth and nail to protect Sam’s legacy. She just prays that it’ll be enough.

Not much is said as they eat their dinner. Harry and Jimmy reminisce on a few memories with Ash chiming in here and there, but for the most part Y/N stays silent and focuses on her food.

They stay like that for another hour or so until Harry’s eyelids grow heavy and start to sting. He’s exhausted, to say the least. His body still aches and as he glances over at Y/N, he can tell that the five hour nap has only made her more tired.

He leans closer to her, lips ghosting her ear. “D’you wanna go to bed?”

She turns her head just slightly to get a look at him. His face is a lot more busted as the night has gone on and the sleepiness that takes over his features pinches her heart a little.

Nodding her head, she stifles a yawn. “Yeah, you look pretty tired, too.”

Harry grins as he rolls his eyes, leaning away from her now to finish the last of his whiskey. He places the glass back on the counter, clearing his throat to catch Ash and Jim’s attention.

“We’re going to head to bed, long day tomorrow.”

Jimmy puffs out his cheeks with an exhale, nodding solemnly. Y/N gets it, can practically feel the anxiety that rolls off him. While he’s good at masking his expressions, there’s not much he can do about his vibe.

“Yeah, yeah, no worries. You know where everything is if you need anything.”

Harry guides Y/N off her stool and down the hall again after saying goodnight to the others. They don’t bother to turn on the light, instead opt for blindly feeling for the bed with their legs and Harry helps her get comfy.

She expects him to round the bed and crawl in next to her, but he doesn’t. Instead, he brushes the hair from her face and stands back with a gentle smile as he regards her.

Y/N’s brows pinch together when he speaks. “I’ll be next door if you need me.”

“Why?” she asks.

“Why what?”

“Why aren’t you staying here with me?”

He smiles softly, shuffling closer to the foot of the bed again. “Didn’t want to assume, that’s all.”

It makes him feel something deep in his stomach — how she craves his presence and wants him close. There’s a swell of something similar to pride in his chest at the realisation of how deep her trust for him runs.

“D’you want me to stay, Penny?”

She sinks further into the bed, seemingly trying to hide half of her face from his gaze. “Only if you want to,” she replies.

Harry’s smile grows slightly and he nods his head, kicking off his shoes and shimmying out of his jeans. She watches, rather closely. He’s right beside her still as he strips down to his boxers before he closes the door and approaches the other side of the bed.

The sheets are cool against his warm skin, small hisses and grunts slipping from his lips at the discomfort in his ribs and abdomen. It makes Y/N feel funny, knowing just how hurt he must be. She was witness to the assault, she’s a little surprised how well he’s taking it.

She has to remind herself that he is a boxer. And a fucking good one at that.

Y/N turns onto her side, her face just a couple of inches from Harry as their eyes adjust to the darkness, desperately trying to map out the others face under the dim moonlight that threatens to peek through the curtains.

Her ankles rub together as they do every night as she tries to settle herself for bed. Something she’s done ever since she was young. Harry can feel the movement beneath the sheets, but to him, he reads it as a sign of feeling cold. So he shuffles a little closer and intertwines their legs, resting a heavy palm on her hip.

“Harry,” she whispers into the night and he’s already looking at her.

“Yeah?”

She waits a moment, unsure if there’s any use in admitting her quarries right now. There’s nothing he can do or say to soothe her, not with the mess that awaits them.

And yet she finds herself uttering it anyway. “I’m scared.”

The broken octave of her voice is felt deep in Harry’s chest, that primal and protective sensation kicking in again. It makes his brows twist in something that can only be described as annoyance. But it’s not directed at her, Harry doesn’t think it ever could be.

“I don’t see an end where we all make it out of this.”

The admittance she whispers aloud is frightening to her. As if speaking her fear is willing its existence to the universe. It has her cowering into herself with shaky breaths and eyes tightly shut.

“We will,” Harry speaks, not allowing a second of doubt to build in her pretty little head. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Her eyes peak open slowly, readjusting to the darkness again when Harry slowly inches closer until the tip of his nose nudges against hers.

“Before Sammy died, he always told me to look out for you — in case anything ever happened to him. I keep my promises, Penny. No matter what it takes.”

She believes him, wholeheartedly. She trusts that he’ll keep her safe, that he’ll fight for the club. The blanket of safety that comes with Harry’s presence begins to consume her — keeps her close and warm and respected.

Maybe that’s why her eyes begin to droop until she can no longer keep them open. She cuddles into his chest, face nuzzling in the crook of his warm neck and his scent envelopes her senses as she slips into a slumber.

Harry can feel her soft breathing even out until her body relaxes against his. He lays awake, admiring the slope of her nose and her lashes that flatten across her cheekbones.

The need and desire to keep her safe prevails over any other senses. His mind falls short when he considers what he wouldn’t do to protect her, to give her the life she deserves.

And it’s not because Sam asked him to.

//

When the sun rises and the moon rests, the tension they felt the day before returns full force. Few words are shared between the four of them as they prepare for the day ahead. It’s like nobody wants to state the obvious, that this could very well be the last time Jimmy and Ashley see Harry and Y/N.

She tries her best not to think about it, not to get too deep in her head. She’s brushing her teeth in the bathroom, eyes lacking their usual glint but that’s no surprise — she doesn’t think it’s been there since Sammy’s death.

A knock on the door breaks her gaze from her reflection. Harry leans on the door frame, arms folded over his chest as he offers the young woman a soft smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Jimmy’s just finished replacing the window. We’re good to go whenever you’re ready.”

He keeps his voice light and soft, not wanting to pressure her when their situation is already stressful enough. She nods her head slowly at his words, rinsing off the toothbrush under the water.

“Yeah, okay. Uh, just give me a minute?”

“Sure. I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready.”

He leaves her in the bathroom, bounding down the stairs as he returns to his friends in the garage. Jimmy’s wiping his hands on an old rag before flinging it across his shoulder.

“She’s all set, changed out your back tire, too. Looked like it was about to blow.”

Their hands meet in a greeting, chests bumping in that brosome hug most guys do. Harry sits his hands on his hips as he takes a look at the Chevy. As good as new, he thinks.

“Man, I appreciate you and Ash helping us out. You really saved our asses last night.”

Jimmy waves his hand in dismissal as he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, it’s what brothers do.”

There’s an appreciative smile on Harry’s face as the door opens again and Y/N’s body shuffles through. Even from across the garage, he can see that glimmer of uncertainty in her eyes.

She approaches quickly, and by the way her shoulders are slightly raised and head a little ducked, Harry can tell she’s anxious.

He holds an arm in the air for her, allowing her to settle into his side before resting the arm across her shoulders.

“Thank you, for everything,” she says just loud enough for Jimmy to hear.

He nods curtly, leaning forward on one foot with an open palm for her to shake. “It was lovely meeting you, Y/N. I’m just sorry it was under these circumstances.”

She smiles through pursed lips and shakes his head with the same pressure he offers. “Me too.”

She excuses herself to load the bags into the back of the Chevy and waits for Harry in the passenger's seat. Y/N watches them chatter quietly, the mention of Ashley being at work and that if they need anything to not hesitate to call.

It’s merely a couple of minutes before Harry joins her in the car, twisting the key to start up the engine and as he pulls out of the garage, he throws his arm out of his window to wave goodbye to Jimmy.

They share a look as they drive down the road, a nervous glance that promises they’re in this together. Harry reaches for her hand in her lap and intertwines their fingers.

She doesn’t say anything as he guides their hands to his mouth and presses a kiss on her knuckles. And he doesn’t say anything when she squeezes his a little tighter.

They remain silent for the most of their drive. It’s late afternoon by the time they arrive at the club and it’s safe to say their guards are up high. They’re eyes are scanning every inch of roads they drive through, hearts thumping in fear and anticipation.

But they don’t see anything.

Harry pulls up outside, putting the car in park and they both exit. There’s an eerie energy that surrounds them, like the universe is taunting and playing on their fears.

They can’t ignore it, even if they tried.

They enter through the back door, feet scuffling against the concrete ground as Harry guides her through. Niall had already rounded up the guys with the prompt of a family meeting taking place. So it’s no surprise that they’re already gathered by one of the boxing rings.

“Thank you all for coming,” Harry calls out to everyone as he and Y/N make their way closer to the group.

There’s a few mumbles of replies and gasps at the sight of Harry’s bruised face, and lots of nodding heads when they come to a stop before them.

“I’m sure you’re all familiar with the Scavello brothers and what they did to Sammy,” a chorus of disgruntled expressions appear throughout the faces of the group.

Y/N can’t look — keeps her eyes downcast on the floor.

“Well, they’re no longer in hiding. They’re back and they’re after us,” he sways his finger between himself and Y/N, “And this club.”

Niall steps forward, inching closer to the pair who regard the larger group. “We don’t know what’s going to happen, but everyone needs to be prepared in case something does.”

Harry watches the way his members nod their heads and clench knuckles into fists. He can feel the anger and heartbreak that resonates within the gym.

“I need every single one of you on guard in case they show up. This is Sam’s life here. And we’re going to protect it like it’s our own. Understood?”

//

It’s been four days.

Four long, gruelling days of looking over their shoulders and Y/N keeping her keys between her fingers whenever she goes to and from her car alone. Not that that’s been a regular thing, Harry had convinced her to stay with him and his place. And after a bit of compromise, Harry agreed to stay at Y/N’s so she wasn’t on her own.

And it was a bit awkward at first. She didn’t ask for him to stay in her bedroom with her, allowed him to turn the sofa into his temporary bed. But by the second day, the awkwardness evened out to a disturbingly, comfortable, domesticated situation.

Y/N cooked and Harry cleaned. They picked shows to watch together and neither left the house alone. Y/N remains on emergency leave for a week, but Harry’s assured her that when she returns, he’ll drop her off and pick her up.

There won’t be a chance for the same thing to happen again.

Today is no different. They woke up together, picked at their breakfast — both still struggling to find their appetite — and drove in Harry’s Chevy to the club this afternoon.

It’s nearing 5:30 p.m. and they’re both sitting together in the office. Y/N’s sipping on her coffee with a Manila folder in hand, Harry typing data into the computer while taking sips of his own blend every now and then.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to host fight nights with all this going on?”

Harry pauses his typing for a moment, head tilting as he looks at her. He hums, nods slowly. “You’re probably right, we’re just losing money each night that we don’t. The guys are gonna start getting frustrated. For a lot of ‘em it’s the only source of income they’ve got.”

It’s a tricky one, Y/N knows that. Their livelihood is important, but so is their safety. It seems more likely that the Scavello brothers would make an appearance on a busy night like tonight. Friday Fight Night.

A thought occurs to her. “What about an advance?”

Harry’s bows knit together. “An advance?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “We’ve got just over two hundred grand stashed under the floorboards, Har. We can offer an advance to those who need it — they can pay back in instalments when we start up fights again.”

He mulls the idea over for a few seconds, not really finding many cons to the proposal. He nods his head, digging through the draws of the desk for a notepad and pen.

“Want me to go and take names?”

Harry shakes his head. “We need to get this place looking legit first. Destroy anything that holds passwords, account numbers — anything that tries back to the illegal fights. If they or the Feds come snooping, our noses are clean and they have nothing to say otherwise.”

Y/N’s about to reply, to suggest burning any correlating paperwork when a ruckus from outside the office and in the gym is heard.

They look at one another, eyes wide and churning stomachs. Harry stands first, bringing a finger to his lips as he motions for Y/N to stay quiet. The ruckus gets a bit louder, a chorus of disgruntled sounds heard.

Harry inches toward the door first, an arm outstretched to his side in an attempt to keep Y/N behind him. She follows suit, hands trembling slightly and she struggles to see over his broad shoulders.

But Harry can see. He sees the three brothers, but they’re not alone. They’ve brought a posse with them and their hands are all equipped with anything you could think to use as a weapon.

Hammers, knives, baseball bats. If it wasn’t such a dire situation, he’d find it ironic that Ryce is gripping a crowbar.

He’s the first to notice Harry’s presence and his blood is quick to run cold. He taps at Y/N’s side, trying his best to buff out his body to shield hers from their view.

“Stay in the office and lock the door. Text Jimmy and get rid of everything.”

He shoves her backward slightly, reaching for the door handle to close it behind him. She locks the door with nimble fingers, racing around the desk to retrieve Harry’s phone and find Jimmy’s contact.

It’s Y/N. They’re here.

She drops the phone on the desk after sending the message, opening the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet. She can’t stop her hands from trembling, has to continuously replay the plan in her head.

Jimmy calls the police which gives Y/N time to destroy anything illegal while Harry fights them off just long enough for the police to arrive, and everyone prays that nobody gets hurt or killed in the meantime.

No matter how many times she reminds herself of the plan, it doesn’t soothe her fears. Anything could go wrong at any given moment.

It’s not just the three of them this time, they brought friends and it’s going to get messy.

She grabs Harry’s gym bag from the corner of the room and collapses to her knees by the desk. Her fingernails struggle to pry the floorboards up until she spots a flat-headed screwdriver poking out from the gym's tool bag.

It works to her advantage, a few good tugs and pulls and the floorboard pops up with a creak. She’s careful when she pulls it out completely, throwing it to the side and grabbing handfuls of the wads of cash.

Her movements are frantic as she shoves them into the duffle bag, the commotion from outside growing louder and louder. She fills the bag with the money and rushes to take off her jacket, throwing it into the bag to hide the cash and she zips it up, kicking it under the table and smacking her floorboard back in place.

Y/N moves to the filing cabinet, fumbling through the drawers in the desk for a lighter. The papers she retrieved earlier are thrown into the trash can, fingers desperate to spark a light but a thumping on the office door stops her — panics her.

It bursts open after the fourth budge, hinges almost flying off and there he stands, Ryce Scavello, bloody and bruised and gripping a crowbar.

All colour drains from her skin, a sickness within her stomach that’s all-consuming. There’s a maniacal smirk painted across his thin lips and the mark across his neck from her use of the aforementioned weapon still paints his skin deeply.

“Are you going to put up a fight as good as your brother?”

That fear morphs into anger the second the words escape his mouth, her eyes dark and blood cold. She flicks the lighter once more and it sparks a tall flame, and just as he’s about to step toward her, she throws it into the trash and the documents burn in a blaze.

Y/N dodges the first swing he throws, the curled edge of the crowbar nipping at her hair and pulling a few strands out of her ponytail. She can hear her heartbeat in her ears as she ducks from another hit and he laughs at her, sadistically.

“Well you’re certainly as fast as him. Did he teach you that, hmm? Did big brother Sammy teach you how to fight before I killed him?”

She does her best to block out his words, raising her fists to cover her face and her legs spread in the same stance Sam had taught her growing up.

She channels him, everything he ever showed her. She lets her brain reminisce about their occasional sparring sessions because Sam was hellbent on teaching her the right ways to defend herself.

Back then she always told him he was being dramatic, that she’d never put herself in a situation where she’d need to fight for her life.

And now, she can hear his reply in her ears, as clear as day: These situations find you, and you need to be prepared for them.

Ryce lunges for her again, catching her in the temple with his fist at the same time she kicks into his kneecap. The crunch of his bone is heard but it doesn’t stop him.

He somehow gets closer and wraps his hand around her throat, a vice-like grip as he slams her body onto the desk and knocks everything off, her and Harry’s coffees spilling on the floor.

Y/N thrashes her legs against him, fingernails scratching at the skin of his face as her thumbs probe harshly into his eyes. Ryce’s grip loosens just enough for her to try to shuffle away, but his hand is replaced with the crowbar and he’s choking her out like she did to him.

He’s seething above her, her own hands now desperate on the bar to try to pull it off, to give herself relief. It doesn’t work, he’s overpowering in every sense and the lack of oxygen she gets makes it harder to move.

Y/N’s eyes are frantically searching for something — anything — to use to her advantage. Her line of sight falls short until she notices the large metal stapler that’s hanging off the edge of the desk. She pries her fingers out as she stretches for it, nails scratching against the metal until she’s able to flick it closer.

The second she’s able to wrap her fingers around the stapler, her arm swings and it thuds heavily against the side of Ryce’s head. Once, twice, three times.

His hold on the crowbar across her throat loosens until he drops it onto the floor. Y/N’s gasping for air, eyes wide and chest heaving as he holds the side of his head in agony.

That’s how Harry finds them — Ryce on top of her on the desk, grunting in pain and anger. He doesn’t allow him another moment to regain himself before Harry swings for the side of his face and Ryce’s body clambers to the floor and off Y/N.

She’s frantic, struggling to grasp reality as Harry reaches her. His hands find her face, gentle touch as he coos to her, promises her it’s okay and he’s got her.

She gets a look at him, bloody and bruised and his bottom lip is split and already swelling. Y/N sits up with the help of Harry at the sounds of blaring sirens and she turns to him, swallowing thickly.

“Grab the money, we need to go.”

Her gaze meets the unconscious body on the floor, anxiety still bubbling in her chest at the realisation that in a few short minutes, this could be completely over with.

Harry reaches for the bag of money when he notices the trash can on fire. He doesn’t need to ask to know she’s burned the documents. They leave the contained fire to burn as they leave the office, both hobbling and gasping for breath.

Police begin to infiltrate the gym, batons in hand and guards to their bodies — as they would for any kind of riot. There’s at least seven officers, all shouting commands to get on the ground or stay where they are.

The gym is in distress. Photo frames and trophies on shelves have been smashed and broken, weights are strewn across the floor, some clean and some with blood. Their hands all reach into the air in a form of surrender and before long, the majority of the trainers and rioters are in cuffs.

An officer approaches Y/N and Harry, quite polite as he assures them he isn’t going to cuff them unless given reason.

“A few of your friends said you two are the owners?”

Harry nods, clearing his throat. “Yeah, that’s right. We were in the office when they showed up and then a fight broke out.”

The officer squints at Y/N and she squints back, reading his name tag as Jones. He looks back to Harry.

“Who’s they?”

“Ryce, George and Scott Scavello. They’re brothers.”

Officer Jones raises an eyebrow at Y/N’s words. “You know them?”

“Uh, we’ve had some trouble with them in the past.”

Y/N’s head snaps to look at Harry, wonders what the fuck he’s going to tell the police, if it’s really a good idea to mention what they did to Sammy. Couldn’t Harry get into trouble for withholding evidence about a crime for all this time?

Jones clears his throat. “Do you wanna expand on that?”

Y/N decides to speak up again. “My brother, Sam, owned this place with Harry before he died. The Scavello brothers tried to join the gym but Sam didn’t want that kind of riffraff associated with the company. They didn’t take it well and now, I guess this is them fighting it.”

Harry watches her with fluttering eyes, slightly amazed and somewhat concerned with how easily she was able to fabricate part of the truth like that.

Officer Jones nods as he jotts down a rough summary of her words, looking to Harry in case he has anything more to offer.

He blubbers for a moment. “Uh, yeah… what she said.”

He writes a little more, turning to look over his shoulder to no doubt report anything extra he may need to. It’s only for a couple of seconds, which allows Y/N and Harry to share a look that screams don’t say anything stupid, and he’s back to facing them again.

“So, you say you’re the owners?”

Harry and Y/N nod simultaneously, eyes downcast to somewhat avoid the officers gaze. He hums, scribbling some more.

“Do you have proof of that?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I can get you the ownership contract.”

Y/N watches meticulously, tries to work out what Officer Jones is writing by the way he scribbles but it’s no use. He taps the pen on the pad, looking around.

“Do you have any security footage? So we can confirm your story.”

Y/N looks at Harry. Do they? She hopes there isn’t a camera in the office, or else they’ll find the footage of her burning illegal evidence. But if they have cameras in the gym, isn’t that going to expose the fight nights? Her head is spinning.

“Yeah…. Niall!” Harry calls over for the blond, who quickly jogs over with a bruised eye and a cut across the bridge of his nose.

“Ni, would you mind showing Officer Jones the security footage from this evening.”

Y/N swallows thickly, watching as Niall guides Jones into the trashed office. She smacks Harry’s arm, eyes wide when he turns to her with pinched brows.

“Ouch… what was that for?”

She grits her teeth. “Why have you done that? He’s going to find all sorts on the cameras!”

Harry lets out a soft laugh and shakes his head. “We turn the cameras off at night.”

He watches her body visibly relax; shoulders slumping and eyes dropping. From their spot by the office, they can see the damage that’s been done.

Blood stains the floor in several places, gym equipment broken and there are at least seven holes in the walls that Y/N can see. She spots the brothers, all conscious now and strapped up with cuffs.

There’s a few more officers that take statements from the members of the gym, a couple of those being detained for aggravated assault and they don’t bother to argue that it was self defence. They played their part, they protected Sam’s legacy. And they know both Harry and Y/N will bail them out by morning anyway.

The adrenaline rush that she’s been on for the past week is slowly seeping from her pores. She doesn’t think she’s ever felt this exhausted in her entire life and the harsh realisation of what they’ve been through begins to hit her like a tonne of bricks.

“Harry,” she whispers softly, “I don’t think I can stay here anymore.”

He turns to her with pinched brows but her gaze is far too focused on the blank space ahead of her to realise.

“What?”

She swallows. “There’s too much pain here. Everything hurts since losing Sammy.” Her voice breaks as she speaks.

Harry blinks rapidly, trying to make sense of the situation. He thought they had something, that something genuine was forming between them and now she wants to leave? To run away?

“What about the club?”

She scoffs out a laugh, finally looking at him now. “You had it on lock this whole time.”

“Well what about me?” he argues. “What about us?”

There’s hurt in his voice and Y/N can’t help but feel confused butterflies in her stomach. Us? She never considered that there would be. Despite the two times they hooked up and the intimacy their friendship shared, she didn’t think Harry would ever want anything more. And now he’s telling her that he does?

It hurts her, deep in her soul. Because she harbours feelings for the fighter, strong feelings. But the thought of it scares her too much. What would Sammy think if he could see them now?

When she doesn’t reply, Harry speaks again.

“If you really want to leave, I’ll come with you.”

She laughs at this, and she laughs loud. Shaking her head, she looks at Harry again. That hopeful glint shines in his eyes and it breaks her heart.

“No, Harry. You barely even know me.”

“I know enough,” he retorts quickly.

Her hands find her hips as she turns her body to face his. “Harry—“

“No, come on,” he interrupts her, “Whatever this is between us is only just starting. Don’t walk out on it.”

She huffs, frustrated. “I’m not walking out on it.”

“You’ll regret it if you do. You’ll regret leaving the club and my Gran will be so heartbroken…”

“Hey,” she pouts. “Don’t bring Mary into this.”

“It’s true!”

There’s a wide smile on his lips now and one creeps its way onto Y/N’s, too. He knows what’s going on in her head — how she’s considering what he’s saying, what he’s feeling.

His gaze softens when their eyes meet again. Harry reaches for her hands, his thumbs brushing over her knuckles.

“At least think about it a little more before you decide to leave. Don’t make hasty decisions…”

“Harry…” she sighs, her smile faded to a slight grimace.

He’s right and she knows it. But it doesn’t take away the pain she feels in this town. It doesn’t make moving on from her brother's death any easier. Everything is a constant reminder of him and what happened to him.

Everything but Harry.

“Go on a date with me,” he proposes, though it’s more of a statement than a question.

Y/N’s brows raise as a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “What?”

“C’mon, one date. And if I can’t convince you that we have something real, and that you should stay… then I’ll understand.”

She catches her bottom lip between her teeth and weighs out her options. She could very easily decline and leave town right now, to never speak to him again or return.

But the idea of going on a date and seeing where this connection goes sounds a little more enticing. Because deep down she knows that running away won’t solve anything. It won’t make her forget the truth.

If she leaves now, she’ll never come back. And she’ll forever regret walking away from her brother's legacy and whatever her and Harry could’ve been.

He dips his head down to catch her line of sight again, a playful smirk etched onto his face as he squeezes her hands. Y/N makes her decision there and then; to not run away, but to stay and see where fate will take her.

“Fine,” she smiles. “One date.”

//

Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated!

Tags: @kissfromadove @stilesissaved @kiwitsayedsugar @savannahwendel @triski73 @stylesfever @babyyhoneyyy @theresnooneheretosave @ellaorchard @itsmytimetoodream @daphnesutton @matildasatellite

[salemlunaa]

❦ TAPPING INTO THE VOID BUT YOU ALWAYS FALL ASLEEP?

It’s okay sleepyhead, we’ve all been there…

so a lot of people talk to me about the fact that they are trying to tap into the void/“I AM” but they will get super uncomfortable or just fall asleep trying. Then it cuts to them waking up pissed off and upset that they are still in their shitty realities. I feel like so many people have this issue but no one really speaks about it, and to get most blogs to give advice about this specific topic, a lot of the time you have to ask them directly by dming or asking. i’ve also had this problem and let me tell you it’s one: frustrating as hell to deal with and two: no one really speaks about this problem. Here, we talk a lot about giving up, getting too scared at the last second but we never talk about dozing off.

but never fear, sai is here!!

If you are struggling with this i want you to know that as frustrating as it is, it’s so easy to get out of this rut. I would highly recommend starting earlier, i personally love SATS as do many people in the community, but be honest with yourself love, if you see yourself sleeping off i recommend starting earlier than the state right before you sleep as you will have more control of your body.

I also want you guys to try sleeping to waves, whether it be alpha, epsilon, delta and whatever, fall asleep to waves, repeating “I AM” until you doze off. And i know it may be hard for your mind to stick to it but you can, i KNOW you can

you can even try entering during the day, and no it doesn’t always have to be at night because you’re a god and don’t need to be a slave to “time”. you can enter perfectly during the day and it’s just as easy as doing it in the night, don’t let limiting beliefs be the death of you. You can even use the day to affirm that when you sleep you immediately tap into the void/“I AM”, because you are a god, it will become fact when you decide.

I also need you guys to flip your thoughts, and you’ve probably heard this a thousand and one times so i will allow an eye roll just this once, BUT it’s actually something you need to do, don’t tell me “i get it, sai!!” and then come back after another day gone, don’t go around a cycle. I need you to live in the reality in which you are a master of the void and you have never slept off before. I’m gonna say this until i die but the law of assumption is a LAW not belief or superstition A LAW, meaning it can never, ever, ever fail. like ever. If you stand firm in the fact that you don’t have this problem and you are so powerful that there isn’t any time for sleeping, your reality will reflect that 110%

“i fell asleep again even though i told myself i was entering today”

“i hate myself omg i slept off AGAIN”

“i’m such a failure”

SHUT UP, SERIOUSLY? like do i seriously need to remind you who YOU ARE?

“i am a master at the void, failure simply doesn’t exist to me”

“i tap into the void/“I AM” so fast that i don’t even have time to sleep”

“i’m a god and i’ve decided the void always goes well for me”

You can do it, i dont think so, i KNOW it, for a fact, because you’re a god and i’ll be damned if you give up on everything because your body keeps dozing off.

YOU DONT FALL ASLEEP. YOU GET IN INSTANTLY. FLIP YOUR THOUGHTS, SLEEPYHEAD, AND YOULL FIND THAT YOUR DREAM LIFE ISNT FAR… 💋💞

[bunny584]

JUJUTSU KAISEN’S ANATOMY

Part II of this cute lil ask right here

A/N: Shit. You just graduated med school. And today…people expect you to…doctor? Mom come pick us up, we’re SCARED (real thought on my first day of residency).

S/N: Meet your first year surgical residency class. Undifferentiated little stem cells. The bottom of the surgical food chain. First shift last 36 hours and you work every second night until you drop. 

All you know is that you like to cut. Where/what/how that cutting comes will be decided later. Everyone has an idea of their subspecialty but…shit happens, preferences change and sometimes the spleen just bleeds for no fucking reason at 4 am when you’ve gotten 30 minutes of sleep in the last 3 days and you have to—what? Sorry. Forgive me. 

Let’s get into it.

For the love of God, interns — pick up your pagers. 

SURGICAL INTERNS ON CALL

Dr. Yuji Itadori 

Specialty Interest: ORTHOPEDIC SURGERY 

Don’t tell Dr. Sukuna about this but who here is shocked. This sack of muscles THROWS SUVS AT HIS MORTAL ENEMIES ON A RANDOM TUESDAY NIGHT??? Please???? He also does shit like watch Wormo-Man parts I-V and this is peak orthopod behavior. Yuji definitely has contests with his patients on rounds who can crush the cranberry juice or protein shakes the fastest. Spoiler, he always lets the patient win.

Everyone thinks he’s just joking around but it’s his way of getting post op patients to get their nutrition in. He’s a very thoughtful doctor, even though people assume he’s no thoughts just vibes between his eyes. 

Dr. Megumi Fushiguro

Specialty Interest: HAND SURGERY (can be achieved via Ortho or plastics)

Hand surgeons are a different BREED. Do me a favor and google “hand anatomy.” Not only will you find like 400 bones, there are 7,000 tiny tendons, lumbricals, digital arteries, veins and nerves all packed into the little mitts we take for granted. And to add insult to injury — all of the muscles and tendons are in latin. Like whoever decided that please take your seat on this one way train to hell :)

Nevertheless, Dr. Geto spotted Dr. Fushiguro on day ONE of intern year. How meticulous and neat he is. How intelligent he is in the O.R. As an intern, Megumi broke the record for the fastest carpal tunnel release for residents (4 minutes, 35 seconds — not faster than mine though, 3 mins, 52 seconds over here big dawg). Suguru is Megumi’s mentor within the first week. Two peas in one moody brunette, pod. 

Dr. Nobara Kugisaki

Specialty Interest: TRAUMA SURGERY 

Nobara is 100% resistant to the Satoru Gojo, MD charm. Unlike the rest of the residents, she isn’t squeezing into Dr. Gojo’s trauma ORs just to graze his gloved hand with theirs. Or make eyes over the surgical masks. No, Nobara did her first cricothyrotomy and became HOOKED. The day she had to climb on the gurney to tie off a patient’s external jugulars because after coding and ROSC (return of spontaneous circulation) they were SPURTING out of the large pipes in their neck — she was sold. Trauma surgery through and through.

Real story btw. It was insane. Whirlwind of a day from the trauma bay to the OR to the ice cream we all scarfed down after because we won that day. And you don’t win every day. So the days you get to tell the Angel of Death to fuck off, you savor them. 

Dr. Maki Zenin 

Specialty Interest: VASCULAR SURGERY 

Little known fact about vascular surgeons is that they are gangster as fuck. Hear me out. They like the blood PAPER thin, right? Small, rusty pipes need to get fluid through, so thin the fluid out as much as possible. Meaning patients are on aspirin, lovenox, heparin, and every other anticoagulant known to man.

Everyone else with a working amygdala is scared to DEATH of these patients bleeding because you look at them sideways and suddenly hemorrhage everywhere. Not vascular surgeons and not Maki Zenin. “Aorta ruptured..? No prob, just sew it up with a couple stitches. What—like it’s hard?” - Every Vascular Surgeon ever. Maki just gives unhinged-unbothered-let-them-bleed energy to me. Plus vascular surgeons do all of the amputations. Maki is doing that with her cursed tools and scrubbing in with hand sanitizer only. Period.

Dr. Yuta Okkotsu

Specialty Interest: TRANSPLANT SURGERY 

The OG lover boy is NO different in this AU. He is sentimental. He cries with patients. Dr. Nanami met him during the first month of his residency and immediately took him under his wing. Yuta is always the last to leave the anatomy lab, making sure to stitch the donors completely closed — even though no one will see. When asked why he spends hours post call doing it, he says: “Because they deserve respect until the very end.” Nanami And Yuta are a perfect match. After Yuta’s first liver transplant, Nanami takes him to the same hill he lays on by the airport. They both say goodbye to the donor together. 

Dr. Toge Inumaki

Specialty Interest: ….he switched to PSYCHIATRY, still tight with the surgical interns though.

Hello, please this is also obvious. Inumaki is the only one in the group who can listen intently for hours without interruptions lmao. He saw that aggressive surgery shit and said absolutely not I’ll take my talents ELSEWHERE 😂

And you know, funnily enough, a good majority of surgeons ALSO were torn between picking surg vs psychiatry. My mentor told me that its because its as invasive, just without the scalpel. The rest of us meatheads just like the scalpel a little too much to put it down. 

Panda:

Specialty Interest: N/A

He is the hospital emotional support animal. 

E/N: Alright interns. Do your best not to kill anyone. And if your chief resident (me) is sleeping, don’t page me. And if you do page me the patient better be knocking on heaven’s gates. And if they are knocking on heaven’s gates, they better not have crossed into the bright light before I get there. 

Real E/N: Kidding. I am so full of shit lol. I am the senior that brings my juniors cafecitos and treats and takes their pager to let them get some well deserved rest. 

Don’t be late to your OR cases, Shoo!

[hugmekenobi]

S3: The Bad Batch (13)

Chapter Thirteen: Into the Breach

Gif by @trapezequeen

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Ever since Eriadu, Clone Force 99 had been a fractured squad. Months have passed but you're finally back with the Batch but Omega is still out there and you won't stop until you find her again.

Chapter Summary: Omega gets to work on an escape plan of her own. Meanwhile. the Batch aren't about to let a chance to get to Tantiss slip away

Masterlist for S1 and S2

<Previous Chapter

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence, me making up science and medical stuff, Rampart, Hemlock being a manipulative creep, heavy angst, mentions of injections and drugging for interrogation purposes, injury descriptions (blood, bruising, cuts), depictions of physical and emotional torture, lotta internal conflicts, referenced character 'death', me giving more conflict to Emerie's internal struggles

Word Count: 7.6K

Author's notes: It's a tough one this week and that will be the remaining theme as we enter these last few chapters but there's light at the end of the tunnel, I promise!!

It was another new day and Omega, now back in the plain grey uniform, had come to terms with her predicament now and was growing more accustomed with the daily routine of the vault. She woke up as the artificial light encompassed the room and her cell door opened.

She had given it a while, but she’d decided that now was the time to plan not only her escape, but the escape of all the kids here. And she would find you in the process. But, to do that, she needed the kids to know that they could trust her.

Omega walked out into the room and approached the young female Iktotchi with her old straw Lula doll. “Hello. I’m Omega.” She said warmly.

“I’m Eva.” Eva replied, a tad shyly.

“What’s that?” Omega asked about the hologram in front of Eva.

“A game. They want us to play them.”

Omega glanced to under the tabletop to see a drawer. She opened it and brought out a case filled with coloured puzzle pieces, each of a different shape. “I like your doll.” She said as she fiddled with the pieces, hoping the comment would help Eva feel more at ease around her.

Eva clutched the doll tightly. “Dr. Karr gave it to me.” Eva turned off her game as she said, “She’s the only nice one.”

That gave Omega a flicker of hope that perhaps her words had had more of an impact on Emerie than she’d thought but she followed Eva’s concerned look to the glass windows above to see the hordes of scientists lurking and staring down at them, “Are they always watching?”

“Yeah. The droids too.”

“That’s Jax.” Eva pointed to the green Mirialan that had answered Omega’s question before she introduced the others. “Sami, and Baryn. This is Omega.” She said to the three of them.

Omega nodded to the Pantoran girl holding the Tarlafar baby. “How long have you all been here?”

“They don’t like it when we talk to each other so much.” Sammi said nervously.

“And if you cause problems, things only get worse.” Jax added mournfully. “Come on, Sammi.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.” Sammi said dully as she followed Jax to another table.

Getting used to it was not in her plan, but she’d bide her time. Omega carried on arranging the shapes in front her, but her mind drifted to you- if they were all to play games, she had to anxiously wonder about what kind of games Hemlock had in mind for you.

--

“Good morning, Emerie. What’s on the schedule today?” You croaked with forced enthusiasm as the door opened. You already knew the answer, but it was the same question you’d asked every time since Hemlock’s plan for you had been enacted that first morning after you’d arrived.

Emerie swallowed tightly as she walked in with the troopers. You look particularly bad today- your cheekbone was purple, and the swelling hadn’t quite gone down yet and the cut on your lip was still open and oozing and she was sure your ribs weren’t doing much better after the beating you took yesterday. “Dr. Hemlock wants you back in the training room.” She said, hoping she didn’t let her discomfort slip through.

The reprieve from the uncomfortable position and biting metallic cuffs was always short-lived because it was instantly replaced by the cruel, pinching grip on your upper arms.

You were pulled to your feet, and you bit back the groan that threatened to spill from your lips as your sore and tired body protested the action. You watched Emerie walk over to you and take your blood sample. “And then I’m assuming we have our regularly scheduled session with the good doctor afterwards?” This was the only part of the routine that varied. If you weren’t taken to that room, you remained in the cell and had more rounds with the interrogation droid and honestly, you welcomed the training room days because that was a pain you could cope with more.

“I… believe that is his plan, yes.” Emerie said, shifting her eyes from you as you were marched past her.

“Don’t look so sad. After all, you’re part of a great scientific adventure.” You remarked over your shoulder as you were led away.

Right… somehow that didn’t feel so good anymore. You had attempted to sound satirical, but you were too weak to convey it effectively so the genuine dullness and pain in your voice was the only thing Emerie had heard. She shook the counter-productive sympathies away and headed to process your sample before she went back to the vault.

--

You stayed still as you let the trooper tie the blindfold over your eyes- you were used to this by now too. It was only after that was done that you were shoved into what you assumed was the training room that was always being referenced.

The blindfold was Hemlock’s way of keeping the secrecy element of this room intact. Plus, he claimed it was a way to see how your Midichlorians reacted when channelling the Force in a threatening situation because without your sight, you had to use the Force to guide you more.

“You know, for someone who claims to be sophisticated, you sure do like seeing me get beaten up.” You called out, knowing he was somewhere observing this whole thing. The response, however, came in the form of an injection in your neck and your entire body seized up- this was an unwelcomed change. “What-” The internal effects were instantaneous and all too recognisable. Dread and fear started to squeeze around your chest.

“An alteration to my methods. I wish to study how you handle both the physical and mental strain when meeting them together, rather than tackling them separately.” Hemlock explained as he nodded to Scorch to leave the room after the injection had been successful. He then gestured to the four operatives to come into view. “Begin.”

You stood unsteadily on your feet as that familiar haziness and fogginess set in, but you found strength in the Force and pushed it away to focus on the other threat that was about to happen.

You sensed the bodies around you.

There were four of them.

Each one of them were poised and ready to fight.

You parried away the first series of but a strong kick from someone else landed against your still injured and bruised ribs. Winded, you tumbled back a few paces.

“I want you to remember Deveron.” Hemlock began.

You couldn’t help it; the memory of that first meeting was as clear as day in your brain and the warmth the nostalgia brought you felt as though you were right back there. No, snap out of it, don’t let him twist these memories for his own gain. Knuckles grazed the side of your head as you managed to duck just in time but the pain that shoving away the memory was all too real.

“I want you to remember the Reek stampede.”

Your back stiffened as the emotions of that day and what it had meant overwhelmed you but clearing your head quickly, you anticipated the punch to your jaw and took a half step back to avoid it, but you weren’t fluid in your steps and setting yourself again left your stomach open for another onslaught of blows.

Hemlock quashed his own irritations at the lack of progress and kept pushing, though the language he had to use now left a foul taste in his mouth but it was for a greater purpose so he could make do for now, “I want you to remember every bonding moment with Clone Force 99.”

“I want you to remember the first time you met Omega.”

“I want you to remember Kamino and afterwards when you and Hunter told each other your… affections for one another.”

You choked as the oxygen was snatched from your lungs as pushing away those beautiful memories brought with it a different but just as crushing kind of pain. You didn’t manage to stop the series of punches that landed on your nose and mouth this time. The harsh taste of iron flooded behind your teeth as blood dripped down the back of your throat and from your nostrils. You hastily spat it out but there was a steady distracting deluge of blood leaving your nose now.

“You can feel that happy again. I’m allowing that for you. I have them here and you can be back with them all again. Omega is safe too.”

You deflected the kick to your thigh but fumbled avoiding the kick to your back as you felt yourself growing more passive under his words. He sounded so genuine, they really could be- no, it was all fake. He didn’t mean it. It was a false reality.

“You can feel that all again. They’re right outside and they’re waiting for you.”

No, no one was waiting for you. You avoided the strike that was intended for the back of your knee and questioned in a breathless panic, “Where are you getting all this from?”

“Tech has been most informative, and I’ve learned all sorts about you. He wants to see you again.”

That broke the illusion, and it was where he slipped up. You already knew Tech was dead, you were so certain of that and so his lies to that matter had no effect. You weren’t sure how he knew all these references but at least you felt your focus coming back more as you smoothly avoided and parried away a series of jabs and kicks from your attackers.

Hemlock noticed you gained more clarity after he said that, evidently there’d be no way to convince you of that fact without giving everything away, so he went back to the original tactic. “Don’t you want to be with them again? They’re your family, are they not?”

The impact of the statement sent you tripping backwards of your own accord. Your recovery was slow, and you barely managed to avoid the punch to your cheek and your chin took the follow up blow.

“You hear them calling for you.” Hemlock taunted as he watched you go between fighting with yourself and the attackers surrounding you. Your strength was something to be admired but he needed it to work for his purposes and for that, you needed to break.

You could, you could hear their voices, they were calling your name, but they sounded distorted, something wasn’t quite right with them. It couldn’t be them; Hemlock would never allow for such a peaceful thing.

You blocked the oncoming punch but a shove to your chest sent you stumbling backwards.

“Don’t you wish to go to them?” Hemlock maintained the scenario as he observed you.

Yes- no, it wasn’t true! You fought with your own brain before another strong punch to your jaw distracted you from the internal battle and you sensed the follow-up kick coming for your stomach which you dodged.

“You only need to join me, and I’ll promise you’ll be reunited.”

No, no you couldn’t do that. They weren’t here, he was lying. They- This time, you felt the tip of a blade slice through your clothing and across your skin. You yelped in pain but before you could react, a kick to that wounded area sent you sprawling to the ground, and you contorted in agony as a combination of fists and feet stamped on your side and the fresh cut there.

“Enough.”

Upon Hemlock’s command, you immediately felt the bodies above you stop but all you could hear in your mind were the warped and falsified voices of your family and you hated it. You longed to be around them again, you longed to talk to them again, and you knew it wasn’t possible. “Make it stop, make it stop.” You whispered frantically as you clutched your head.

Hemlock gave you that relief. He needed you as clear-headed as possible for the next session in order for his tests to be the most effective and for the results to be an untainted as possible. “You can no longer hear them. You know that you’re back in the training room.” He told you.

His words sank in, and your breathing evened out.

The mental effects of the dosage began to fade but only enough to make the physical pain you were feeling more apparent.

Hemlock crouched down next to your beaten body. “Such unnecessary suffering. It can end, you need only accept my proposition.” Hemlock offered as he wiped away the blood secreting from the various wounds on your face.

The offer always got the same response from you, “Go to hell.” You wheezed as you slapped his hand away and braced yourself against the ground. You gingerly sat on your knees and pressed your hands to your side in an attempt to stop the steady flow of blood leaving the cut.

Hemlock only chuckled mirthlessly. “Oh, I believe you’re already there. And we’re not done yet.”

Your throat tightened with fear as you heard the threatening promise in his words.

The images and sounds you’d been subjected to still remained faintly in your head as you were harshly tugged to your feet. Your feeble struggles against the hold the troopers took of you had no impact as you were pulled from the training room, but you didn’t have the strength to hold yourself up properly, so your feet dragged behind you.

Hemlock avoided the spatters of blood dripping from your body as he walked just behind.

--

Rampart paced irritably across the filthy and decrepit landing platform, “Where in the blasted galaxy did that pirate abandon us? And why are you keeping me here?” He directed his question towards Hunter.

Hunter didn’t so much as glance up from the datapad as he replied, “You’d prefer we take you back to that Imperial labour camp instead?”

Rampart sighed, “We had a deal. I already told you what I know about Tantiss.”

Hunter angled himself to face Rampart this time. “You’ll get your freedom when we get the exct coordinates to that base.”

Before Rampart could argue further, the sound of an approaching ship interrupted him.

Hunter made sure to push past Rampart’s shoulder as he went to go meet Echo.

Echo came down off the ramp and clasped Hunter’s hand in greeting.

“Nice work.” Hunter complimented as he took in the new ship Echo had acquired.

“A stolen shuttle is the best I could do on short notice.” Echo said. “The supplies we need are aboard.” His face hardened as he saw Rampart. “You really think we can trust that hydrosnake?”

“I can hear you.” Rampart scoffed pointedly.

Hunter half-turned back to Rampart. “No, but he’s our best chance at finding them.”

His brother may have been putting on a convincing front, but it still wasn’t his usual ‘put together’ nature- something just felt off. Echo hesitantly started to ask, “And… how are y-”

“Fine.” Hunter replied roughly.

Echo figured now was not the time to push the matter further, so he simply nodded and turned back for the ship.

Hunter followed Echo on-board.

Crosshair hit Rampart’s back with his rifle to get him to move. Was it necessary? Probably not but he found the displeased look on Rampart’s face at the action rather amusing.

Wrecker shoved Rampart down into one of the seats. “Now, start talking.”

Rampart groaned in exasperation. “Oh, how many times do I have to explain it? Hemlock put safeguards in place to keep his base’s location a secret.”

“But you’ve been there before?” Hunter said, his frustration at Rampart’s persistent evasiveness making his tone more aggressive than

“Any ship going there must first dock at Imperial Station 003 in orbit over Coruscant where the coordinates are transmitted directly to the navicomputer.” Rampart explained.

Echo pulled up the hologram of the station. “Well, his intel about the orbital station checks out.” He agreed reluctantly. “But I can’t confirm the rest of his story.”

“Do you think I’m lying?” Rampart said with an offended scoff.

“Yes.” Crosshair and Wrecker said at the same time.

Hunter analysed the map, “Once we reach the station, we can find a ship departing for Tantiss and pull the coordinates.”

“We’re going to need Imperial clearance codes.” Crosshair said.

“Got that covered.” Echo confirmed.

Rampart interrupted the proceeding with a chuckle. They made is sound so simple, yet their naivety was astounding. “Unlikely. Those codes change every rotation.”

“Which why we’re not waiting around.” Hunter responded impatiently.

“Even with a stolen shuttle and clearance codes, you can’t expect to walk onto an Imperial station completely unnoticed.” Rampart pointed out.

“But you can.” Crosshair countered.

“And we’ll be your security detail.” Hunter added on.

“You just walk us right onto the station.” Echo rounded off the brief by chucking Rampart an Imperial uniform.

This was never in the arrangement. “You cannot be serious.” Rampart argued.

“You were an Imperial before. Impersonating one should be easy enough.” Hunter said unsympathetic to Rampart’s unease.

Rampart supposed he better get on board with this quickly or he’d be landing himself right back on Erebus but there was still one small issue that had to be rectified at once. “I can’t wear this. It’s a captain’s uniform.” He pointed to the rank markings on the top but all he received in response was a series of blank, uncaring faces. “I was a vice admiral.” Surely, they had to understand how improper this was?

“Well, you’ve been demoted.” Echo replied bluntly.

“I hate clones.” Rampart muttered to himself.

--

Omega sat in the cot in her cell as Emerie kneeled in front of her.

Emerie reached for her hand. “It’s time for your sample, Omega.”

“The other kids. Where did they come from?” Omega asked as her blood was being drawn.

“I don’t know. But they are well looked after here.”

“I’d like to believe you.”

Emerie withdrew the vial and placed it in the small storage slots that came from a hidden compartment in the walls.

Whilst she was distracted with that, Omega sneakily stole a sharp implement from the testing kit and slipped it up her sleeve.

“And… is she being well looked after?” Omega noted the way Emerie made sure to avoid her eyes as she tidied up the equipment.

“I’ll be checking on her soon.” Emerie replied, using her words carefully and she left before Omega could ask any more questions and headed upstairs to join the other scientist on the observation level.

Omega watched her go and she let her mind drift to worrying about you before she focused on the task at hand. She’d make sure to see you soon.

--

“Letting Omega intermingle with the specimens in unwise.” Dr. Scalder advised as she saw the girl join one of the tables.

Emerie paid little attention to the objection. “They’re engaging in the activities I’ve provided to keep their minds active. Besides, they are under our watchful eye.”

“That didn’t stop her from causing problems in the past.”

“I’m the chief scientist. I will run the vault as I see fit.” Emerie said definitively. With that, she left the room to go join Hemlock next.

--

“How often do the droids take our vitals?” Omega asked covertly as she pretended to play with the puzzle game.

“Twice a day. After meals.” Eva informed her boredly.

“What about the troopers? Do they ever come in here?”

“Only when we cause trouble.” Jax informed her.

“Jax tried to escape once, but he didn’t get very far.” Eva revealed.

“There’s no way outta here. We’re never going home.” Jax said with a sad sigh.

Well, that wasn’t how she was going to go about this. “Want to know a secret? I escaped from this mountain before.”

All of them perked up at that.

“Really?” Eva gasped.

“How?” Jax asked as a follow up.

“I had training. And I wasn’t alone. Know what else? I’m doing it again, and I’m taking you all with me.” Omega said confidently before she moved the box aside to show them what she’d been working on. “Look.”

All the kids gathered round to see what she’d created.

“It’s a layout of the vault.” Omega explained before she labelled each section of the improvised diagram. “This is where we’re sitting right now. These are the walls. These are the tubes in the walls the droids use to transport our samples. I need to get inside and see where they go.”

“Only the droids can access those hatches.” Jax said.

Omega messed up the puzzle piece layout to avoid attracting attention and subtly revealed the tool she’d snagged earlier. “I can get them open. I just need them not to see me.” She glanced up to the observation deck.

“Won’t take them long to notice you’re missing.” Jax pointed out.

Omega simply gave an unphased smile, “That’s okay. I like a challenge.”

--

The blindfold was whipped off you as you were brought back to your cell, but you had no time to adjust since you were hastily tied up again.

Hemlock waited until the cuffs were back on and you were chained to the wall again. “Bring in the droid.”

Emerie entered with the droid that had the serum ready to go but came to a sudden halt as she took you in.

There was no ignoring your freshly bloody and beaten appearance but that was the norm now.

What wasn’t the norm, however, and it was the element that caught her off guard, was the still distant and glazed look in your eyes that tended to follow as an aftereffect of the interrogations.

“Dr. Karr?” Hemlock queried as he saw the sudden and unusual reaction.

Emerie fumbled over her words slightly, “Am- am I late, Dr. Hemlock? I… thought you had business in the training room first?”

“No, you are right on time. I merely… adjusted our technique.”

“Sir?”

“Come, Dr. Karr, you know that the pursuit of knowledge and getting results sometimes requires that we alter how we go about our research and that includes our interactions with specimens.”

What he’d done clicked with her then and suddenly the idea of putting you through, yet another round so soon felt like a very bad idea. “Should we not wait longer? If her body needs to recover more, this session could-”

“No, our methods need to get more aggressive. This is the new approach. Do you have a problem with that, Dr. Karr?” A firm challenge behind the softness of his tone.

Emerie snapped out of it, “Of course not, Doctor.” She handed Hemlock the datapad with the questions and scenarios that seemed to get to you the most. She put the monitor on you and connected it to her own datapad. She hated watching this part the most, but Hemlock had charged her with taking your samples and monitoring your vitals during this, so she had to stay.

The electronic warbling from the approaching droid always sent a cold rush of fear through your heart. You knew it was pointless to resist but the way your body instinctively tried to get away from the needle couldn’t be helped.

You inhaled sharply as it pricked your neck and that groggy, yet detached bodily sensation swiftly overcame you once more.

Hemlock released a content and easy sigh, “Now, today I think we’ll go with your dear Sergeant Hunter.”

“No.” You groaned as you already started to pull against the chains. “Not him.” You pleaded as your resistance crumbled away. You closed your eyes as you were helpless to what was to come.

Hemlock ignored you, “Do you feel that heat, that burning pain in your body?”

You had to conserve what fight and strength you had left so you allowed yourself to let those words take hold but what you couldn’t do was allow him to use Hunter to get to you in this way.

You felt the fire course through your veins and your body seized up with the intense pain it brought. You tugged against the chain, but it brought you no relief.

Satisfied that he had a hold on you again, Hemlock kept the torture going, “That agony, that burning pain that you’re feeling that feels like every nerve is on fire? Like your very being is being burned from the inside out? He’s feeling that too. As it gets worse for you, it gets worse for him.”

Hunter’s senses, he wouldn’t- no, he was safe. He wasn’t in pain. You told yourself as the burning in your own body intensified under Hemlock’s words.

“You can hear his cries…”

And you could. You heard Hunter screaming out your name. Screaming, pleading, begging for your help. They raged in your head, and you needed them to stop.

You yanked against the chains and your breathing came in the form of short, sharp pants and your body heaved with the effort of fighting against the serum’s effects and Hemlock’s voice.

“He’s calling for you. He wants you to make it end. Don’t you want to help him?”

Yes, you’d do anything to help him. You could join Hemlock, you’d do that for- no, stop. You told yourself.  

“He’s in pain, he’s begging you to help him.”

“Hunter…” You rasped with a broken cry.

“He wants you but he’s hurting. And it’s because of you.”

Tears escaped your shut eyes and slid down your cheeks.

“I can end his suffering, just surrender to me.”

Yes, surrender and save Hunter- no, you’d never hurt him, and Hemlock wasn’t either. It was a lie. You thought internally as you continued to strain against your confinement so that the words wouldn’t take root.

“I’ll make it stop. I’ll let him hold you.”

Yes, that’s what you- No. Hunter wasn’t here, he couldn’t possibly be here. You reminded yourself as you tossed your head from side to side to rid yourself of the security that idea brought you… that made you all the more susceptible to Hemlock’s voice and his suggestions.

You had to push it away. You inhaled sharply and groaned, and you knew you’d succeeded when the pain came raging back again instead.

“Sir…” Emerie interjected timidly. She didn’t like the way your vitals were looking right now.

Hemlock raised his hand to quiet her and kept his attentions fixated on you. He’d seen a subtle change in you, a willingness to cooperate that hadn’t been present before. He needed to get back and now he knew the way to do so, “Don’t you want to feel his comfort once more?”

You thrashed against the chain and violently shook your head as if you could physically get rid of the images being created in your head, “No, it’s not real, it’s not real!” You cried as your entire body convulsed in both mental and physical agony.  

“Oh, but it is…”

“It’s not.” You whimpered, but your conviction faltered for a moment as Hunter’s image entered your head and the comfort it brought you felt so real.

“And you can see him…”

No, remember it was a trick. “Stop!” 

“Dr. Hemlock-” Emerie attempted to interject again as she kept an eye on your rapidly deteriorating vitals but again, he gestured to her to stay silent.

Hemlock continued his torment, “You can go to him…”

“No, I can’t! He’s not here, he’s not here!” Saying the words aloud was the only way you could fight against both your physical captor and the one in your mind. You were uncaring of the way the cuffs dug in and rubbed the skin of your wrists raw as you writhed in pain.

Hemlock noted your distressed reactions, but it didn’t matter to him, he could see this was the way to break you and he was almost there. “Just give into me and he’ll be yours again.”

“Stop!” You begged through hoarse and strained breaths.

“Dr. Hemlock!” Emerie urged more strongly this time as she saw the way your body was collapsing due to the strain of resisting the serum’s effects. If he went on for much longer, you wouldn’t make it.

Hemlock glanced at Emerie’s datapad and saw the minor cause of her rather ill-timed and inconvenient anxiety. He ground out a sigh and relented. Her interruptions would only hinder things. He stopped and allowed Emerie to take the droid away and monitor off.

Hemlock waited a few minutes for you to stabilise and come back to the present moment again. You were a formidable adversary which is why he knew he had to have you in his ranks and that meant altering his methodology further. “Increase her injection level. We go for longer next time. No interruptions, Dr. Karr.”

Emerie clutched her datapad tight to her chest and, without clearly thinking it through, started to protest the order, “Dr. Hemlock, her body can’t handle-”

“I know what she can handle, Dr. Karr.” Hemlock said sharply before he crouched down to your level and brushed his hands through your hair before he tucked his fingers under your chin. “Unless you wish it to stop. Why suffer more? All you have to do is join me.”

Your body heaved with each distressed pant as you made yourself meet his eyeline. “Go to hell.” You spat with as much venomous spite as you could muster. You managed a tired, half smirk of your own as you saw the flash of frustration behind his eyes.

Hemlock inhaled and exhaled a deep sigh to calm himself. “See it done for the next round today. Be sure to take her blood. We’ll still need records of how her M-Count reacts to each technique.” He directed Emerie as he past her and left the room.

“Yes, sir.” Emerie said quietly before she approached your side with the sampling equipment and injected the needle into your hand. She gulped as she saw the new dark red bloodstain on your clothing and the fresh blood leaking through your clothes that was now forming a small puddle on the floor. She feared what would become of you if that wound went unchecked. “If you just joined him, it would stop. You-”

“I can’t, Emerie.” You said through gritted teeth as you pressed yourself against the wall and closed your eyes. You ignored the stinging and dripping wound on your side and allowed yourself to drift off into nothingness because that was the only time you found peace now.

--

“We’re approaching Coruscant.” Hunter informed Echo as he came to see how he was getting on burning the paint off his helmet like he’d been doing for himself and the rest of their armour pieces.

Echo lifted his helmet as he heard the words. “All the armour’s been stripped. But we’re still not gonna blend in.” He tossed Hunter’s now all black helmet to him. “You really think Rampart can pull this off?”

Hunter caught it but didn’t put it on right away. He stared at it and his mind drifted back to a very different time.

He remembered back to his squad’s first official missions during the war, back when they’d all wanted to blend in.

But it had soon become clear that that wasn’t an option any of them wanted to follow. Establishing their own stand-out colours had been a significant moment, it hadn’t felt like it then, but it was.

Then they’d only grown more into the squad that they were today. The squad that owned who they were and the differences that came with that.

A tradition that had carried on when Echo joined.

And when you’d joined.

And when Omega joined too.

He recalled the days of Ord Mantell and when Lyra had changed their traditional red and black colours to the hues of blue, red, yellow and orange. It had marked the end of an era but also the beginning of a new one.

He’d remembered the pride and affection that had swelled in his chest that day when he’d seen that his colours had mirrored yours.

But now all those meaningful colours were gone. And the memory of that would be something he’d hold on to.

Rampart’s indignant cough at Echo’s words as he emerged from the refresher pulled Hunter out his thoughts. “I beg your pardon. I didn’t just make it to vice admiral on looks alone.” He had to admit it, it felt good to have his hair and beard no longer be a tangled mess and he relished being back in proper uniform again, even with an inferior rank.

Hunter said nothing, he only turned and went to the pilot’s seat and put through the transmission coming from the station.

“Rho-class shuttle, we have you on approach. Please identify.”

Echo activated the ship’s comm channel as he replied, “This is transport shuttle Alpha-44. Transmitting landing codes.”

There was a series of beeps as they all awaited confirmation.

“You’re clear to land at docking bay 5-tac-02.” The technician permitted.

“We can’t stay docked for long.” Echo cautioned. “This shuttle’s bound to be reported missing soon.”

“Assuming we’re not captured or killed during this little mission, what assurances do I have that you’ll let me go?” Rampart interjected.

Crosshair stared at him. “You’re going to have to trust us. Just like we have to trust you.”

“So don’t mess this up.” Wrecker added sternly.

Rampart turned to the big clone, “Hmm. Mess this up? I know how to carry myself.” He said self-righteously. “You’re the ones that are gonna stand out like overheated Gamorreans.”

--

This ship docked successfully, and it had been decided that Hunter, Crosshair and Echo would form Rampart’s security detail whilst Wrecker staying behind to watch the shuttle.

Before the four of them disembarked, Hunter caught Rampart’s shoulder and angled Rampart’s body towards him. He ignored to disgusted look on Rampart’s face at the action and began his warning, “The Empire betrayed and imprisoned you. We broke you out. Remember that before you try and betray us.”

Rampart obnoxiously wiped the spot on his shoulder where the clone’s hand had been. “I’m here, aren’t I? Let’s get this over with.” Rampart grumbled as he led the way off the shuttle.

Crosshair and Hunter donned their helmets like Echo had done earlier and stepped off to greet the Imperial that had just walked through the hangar doors.

“Who is responsible for this vessel? It is not on my docking manifest for today.”

Hunter took point and stood in front of the officer whilst the others remained behind by Rampart’s side. He remained still and silent as the Imperial examined him, but it was taking more willpower than he’d expected to wait this inspection out. He didn’t have time to humour Imperial questions.

“What division are you with? These uniforms are not regulation. I asked you a question, trooper.”

Rampart decided it was his moment to step in now. He shoved past Hunter and addressed the officer, “My division. And my orders are classified. If you have an issue with that, Lieutenant, then contact Governor Tarkin.” Rampart felt rather smug as saw the name have the desired effect. That flash of panic followed by an immediate desire to comply from subordinates was a part of the job he had missed dearly. “Now carry on.”

“Uh, y-yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” The Lieutenant automatically straightened up and went back through the doors he had come from.

Rampart turned back to the clones and waved a hand towards the doors, “Shall we?”

--

Rampart led the way to the desired destination. “The control room is up ahead. We can access the station manifest from there.”

“Just do your thing and get us inside. We’ll handle the rest.” Echo said frankly.

The insolence he constantly received from these clones was getting to be a little much. “That’s ‘Do your thing, sir’.”

“I don’t think so.” Echo replied in a low, disapproving growl.

Rampart paused as they reached the guarded door and spoke to the two officers, “Troopers, you are relieved.”

“Captain?”

“Report to the barracks. You’ll receive further instructions.”

“But, sir, we just started our shift.”

“Perhaps you’d like to spend a few rotations in the brig for violating Article 15 of the Imperial standing order 10?” Rampart threatened.

The two troopers glanced at each other. “No, sir.” With that, they moved out.

The group of them made it into the control room but the technician was willing to be as accommodating or passive as others had been.

Hunter barely let him get his protests out, he stunned the Imperial but caught his body and laid him gently on the ground rather than letting him fall harshly.

Crosshair shut the door whilst Echo plugged into the system.

“This is taking far too long. Can you crack the encryption or not?” Rampart asked anxiously.

“I’m working on it.” Echo snapped, unplugging and pushing past Rampart to try another terminal.

“Hunter, I had to sideline an Imperial. Someone might come looking for him.” Wrecker said over the comm channel.

“Copy that. Have the shuttle ready to go.” Hunter glanced over at Echo as he heard a series of more positive sounding beeps.

“I’m in.” Echo confirmed as he read the information now on the screen. “A science vessel docked in Bay 8 is set to depart for Tantiss, and soon.”

“Let’s get to that navicomputer and pull the coordinates.” Hunter ordered swiftly.

“We can’t. The vessel is tagged for uplink after it launches.”

“Which means there’s no way to get the coordinates.” Crosshair deduced. “Did that slip your mind?” He directed the question to Rampart.

“You expect me to know technical details like that?” Rampart disputed.

Hunter wasn’t prepared to let this chance slip away. They- he- needed those coordinates no matter what. “Then there’s only one option left. We can’t extract those coordinates. But that vessel is heading to Tantiss. That’s our way in.”

“What?” Rampart questioned in disbelief. Surely they realised this was venture was now dead in the water.  

“It’s the only chance we have of finding them and freeing those prisoners.”

Rampart sighed, there was that naivety again. “Science vessels have heightened security protocols. There’s no way you can all sneak aboard undetected.”

“But I can.” Echo volunteered.

“You can’t go alone.” Crosshair argued.

“He’s not.” Hunter said. “Once you’re aboard, find a way to disable the proximity sensors. We’ll follow behind, then attach our shuttle to the hull and hitch a ride directly to Tantiss.”

“Now, wait just a minute. This is not the plan I agreed to.” Rampart objected strongly.

“Plans change.” Crosshair sneered.

Hunter caught Echo’s shoulder as he passed, “They’ll monitor comms. So, we’ll have to go radio silent. Watch your back.”

The four of them left the room and split off.

--

Omega watched as the droid left and when it looked like the scientists above were not looking, she slipped into her room and used her tool to jimmy away at the wall panels.

She was successful in taking a few of them apart which allowed her to stick her head through the gap and take in the shaft of space behind the panels and was pleased to see there was room for her to manoeuvre around and explore what lay beyond the walls of the vault. However, as she her shoulder and more tumbled down, making more noise than she was comfortable with.

Omega knew she didn’t have a lot of time, Dr. Scalder kept a very keen eye and had probably noticed her absence and so was most likely already on her way down. She hurriedly tidied them back up and sat innocently on her cell’s makeshift bed as Dr. Scalder entered. “Hello, Dr. Scalder.” She said casually.

Dr. Scalder said nothing and cast her eyes around the room for signs that anhthing was amiss.

“Is something wrong?” Omega inquired.

Dr. Scalder only gave a mild hum in response before she walked out and left the vault to go back to her post.

Omega released a relieved sigh and rejoined the rest of the kids.

“Well?” Jax asked.

“Did it work?” Eva followed up.

“Uh huh.” Omega replied.

“What did you find?” Sammi asked quietly as Baryn played on her lap.

“Our way out.” Omega said confidently.

--

Hunter and the others ran onto the ship just as Wrecker was ridding the shuttle of the unconscious Imperial.

“’Bout time.” Wrecker grunted before he gently sat the Imperial down on some crates and placed his cap back on his head and joined the others again.

“Hunter, I’m inside the ship. It’s launching right now.” Echo commed in.

“Get those sensors disabled.” Hunter hastily powered up the ship and set it off for the pilot’s seat to get the ship in the air and in the direction of the shuttle Echo was on.

--

Using the droid transport chute had meant that Echo had successfully snuck aboard the shuttle leaving for Tantiss but where he’d run into trouble was in the form of the unnecessary delay caused by the trooper sent down to investigate his activities down below.

--

“What are you waiting for?” Wrecker asked as Hunter slowed the ship down.

“The proximity sensors haven’t been deactivated yet.”

Rampart- in his nervous state- had already strapped himself into one of the seats in the main hold. “This isn’t going to work. Their proximity sensors will detect us and shoot us down.”

“Relax. Echo’s on it.” Crosshair said to him.

--

With the trooper and his cover taken care of again, Echo was able to get back to work on disabling the sensors.

--

Hunter glanced down at his console as the beeping grew more incessant as it was indicating the ship ahead was getting ready to enter hyperspace.

“They’re about to jump.” Crosshair said, a hint of his own anxieties coming through now.

Hunter’s own resolve stayed steady. This wasn’t going to fail, he was getting to Tantiss, and Echo wouldn’t let them down. “Echo will come through. He just needs more time.”

“Which we don’t have.” Rampart stood up now and pushed past the other two clones who stood in the hallway just behind the pilot’s chair. “He’s probably been captured. Abort the mission.” He urged.

Wrecker and Crosshair only waited. This wasn’t their call to make or have a say on this time.

That wasn’t an option and no one, certainly not Rampart, was going to convince him that it was. Hunter kept his eyes fixed on the shuttle ahead and his voice was cold and unyielding as he said, “Negative.” He powered up the engines again and made for the bottom of the shuttle. He turned the ship upside down right as the console indicated that the sensors were down. He attached to the Tantiss shuttle just as it entered hyperspace.

They were getting those clones out of there.

They were getting Omega out of there.

They were getting you out of there.

--

“Oh, come on, Emerie. You’re killing me here, aren’t you a little early?” You moaned as you forced yourself up, wincing as the cut on your side felt like it ripped itself open more. It seemed like you’d only just finished the latest round with torture droid equipped with the new parameters Hemlock had set out and yet here Emerie was again.

Emerie found that she really didn’t like that that’s all you associated her with. She wanted to pursue knowledge and be known for her science, not hurting people. “I’m not- I’m not here for that.”

You just about managed to open your eyes but did a doubletake because you weren’t certain that what you were seeing wasn’t due to the blood loss and there was the possibility it was another one of Hemlock’s tricks. Getting to tell reality from hallucination was proving to be more challenging with each injection he put you through and this was one of those occasions where you weren’t sure what to believe because in your cell was Emerie.

Alone.

Holding a medkit and a flask of what you hoped was water.

“You’ve not been injected with anything.” Emerie could tell that’s where your thought process was heading as she knelt down next to you and pushed up the top of your uniform to examine the angry knife-wound on your side. Before she attended to it, she held the flask to your lips and let you drink from it.

The water cooled your sore throat, and the small act of unexpected kindness allowed the spark that Hemlock was doing his best to snuff out to grow more again.

You felt a few drips spill down your chin as she took it away, but you were too fixated on the way she was now attending to your injury to care, plus she’d seen you in far worse states.

“Why are you doing this? Why bother helping me?” You hissed in pain as she cleaned the wound and placed the bandage over it. You guessed the reason she hadn’t stitched it up or used any bacta was so that Hemlock remained unaware of the outside assistance, but you’d take any help you could get.

Emerie hesitated; she didn’t fully have the answer herself yet. “I don’t quite know but I do know Omega would want you to get through this.”

At Omega’s name, you felt a new surge of strength flow through you. “How is she?” You whispered.

“She’s fine. I’m doing what I can to watch out for her.” Emerie replied before she unscrewed the cap of the canteen again.

You huffed out a relieved breath. “Good.” You welcomed the final swig of water she offered you. “How long do I have?” You asked as she removed it and got the stuff together in order to leave it as though she’d never been here.  

“About 40 minutes.” Emerie admitted, her voice solemn.  

“Bring it on.” You said with a tight, pained smile.

Next Chapter (to be posted)>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @arctrooper69, @dominoeffectsworld, @andreaaxy, @notgonnaedit, @allthingsimagines, @nightmonkeysstuff , @jellybeanstacey0519, @callsign-denmark, @superbookishhufflepuff @qvnthesia

[leclercsluvs]

MV1 | Echoes of Sorrow

an: this is sorta loosely based on a song from 2006 that i used to listen to all the time. considering it's not an english song, i'm not going too much after it, just kinda the "plot" of the song. it's danish by the duo nik & jay and its called 'når et lys slukkes' so if you're up for it you can take a listen. warning: kidnapping, swearing, death, drunk driving, murder, car crash, google translated french, not proof read word count: 2.8k

max knew bringing you into his life was dangerous, but it wasn't until he got the call that he realized just how dangerous it actually was. you hadn’t been in danger in the 4 years you’d been dating. but then again, max didn’t quite know the dangers of what he had gotten himself into in the beginning. he thought it was just an innocent way to get a ton of money. boy was he wrong. now he’s sitting in a bar at 12 pm, because he didn’t know what to do. it’s been raining all week, and right now, it most certainly is not helping his mood. 

“can i have a refill?” max mumbles to the bartender, pushing his glass forward. he hasn't been here for that long, but he’s definitely had more than he should have. but he needs to clear his head a little, and he couldn’t do that sober, at least that was his excuse for ending up at the bar. 

“i think you’ve had enough,” the bartender walks over to him, putting a hand in front of max “can i have your keys? you’re not driving anywhere like this.” 

“i didn’t bring my keys,” max lies so effortlessly. “someone drove me here, i’ll just call a cab” he gets up and walks towards the door. he can feel the tears stinging in his eyes, but he isn’t interested in crying in front of anyone. not right now. he just needs a bit more liquor and he's set. he can find you. you’re counting on him. 

in fact, you knew max was coming. he had been telling you ever since you started dating, that if anything were to happen to you, he’d be the first to start looking for you. and right now, that hope, that was all you needed. you needed the knowledge that someone was coming. someone was looking for you. you didn’t exactly know how you ended up tied together in the trunk of a car, but you sure knew, this was not on your to-do list today. you weren’t even sure who was driving the car you were in, and you couldn’t feel your phone in your pocket, so you had no way to call max.

max stumbles into the small convenience store and picks up a bottle of vodka “this will probably do” he mumbles and walks to the cash register to pay.

“mr. verstappen! what are you doing here so early? i didn't think you’d be back today, i don't have it here” the owner of the store looks almost terrified to see him back. well to be fair he was here collecting a big sum of money just a few days ago, and let’s just say, it didn’t quite go as everyone had wanted. they still had some cleaning up to do.

“i’m not here for business today,” max says, as he places the bottle on the counter “just had to pick up this” he looks up at the man across him, eyes blank, on the brink of tears. he won't do it yet though. not around people. he might be liked and respected as of right now, but all that could change oh so quickly. especially if he broke down over this. so many people in this business had suffered worse and he was on the brink of crying because his girlfriend had been kidnapped? and he didn’t even fully know if it was true yet.

“oh, well that will be 20 dollars” max barely gives him time to finish before the money is on the counter, bottle in his hand and he's walking towards the door. he needs time alone. now. he needs to process.

as the car came to a stop, you couldn’t do anything but hold your breath, would you know the person that had taken you? or would he be a total stranger? the trunk opened and the rain disappointed you. was it really on a rainy day you got kidnapped? a man’s face appeared and you couldn’t help the fear creeping in.

“so you are max’s girl now?” he spoke with a french accent. if he wasn’t a kidnapper, you would have found it kinda hot. but under the circumstances it was anything BUT hot. 

“what do you want us to do with her?” a different voice asked, you sorta recognized it, but only faintly. was he the one that had technically kidnapped you? most likely. 

“get her inside. i have to call max. he needs to know for sure that we have her. i want him in the most panicked state possible, before i send the body to him.” the body? was he talking about yours? god you were going to die. on a rainy day. how awesome. the frenchman walked away and his friend came into view, picking you up as easy as if you were a bag of flour. you tried everything to get out. not really interested in this new fate of yours.

max barely makes it to the car before his phone rings. he looks at the caller id. it’s an unknown number. he hesitates for a second, then realizes it could be someone with news about you, so he quickly accepts the call and brings the phone to his ear “hello?” he unscrews the cap on the bottle of vodka, and takes a quick sip as he waits for a reply from the unknown caller.

“is this max verstappen?” he sighs. doubting it’s about you if they have to ask if it's him.

“yes. this is max” he replies while screwing the cap back on the bottle. “who am i speaking with?”

“you should come see for yourself. if you want to see your girlfriend again” the voice states and gives an address and max wastes no time getting there. tears running down his cheeks, he’s silent tho, he just has to get to you. he needs to get you back. he can't let anything happen to you. he can’t lose you.

against your will you were placed on a chair in the middle of a nicely decorated room on the second floor of a huge house. you started losing hope. they weren't going to wait long. not if their plan to be able to send you body to max was going to be successful. panic and fear started to mix when you were left alone in the room with your thoughts. thoughts about how this stranger was going to murder you and then send your body to max. you couldn’t stop imagining his face. if he knew about you by now, he would be looking for you. you knew it. it had to be like that. right? he told you so many times. he would get to you. you needed him. your only hope was him. 

max walks up to the front door, feeling 100% sober, however the bottle is still in his hand, could it be useful? maybe if it was empty. he has to get you out alive and safe though, so anything was helpful. the front door is slightly open so he pushes it further open hoping no one is there. he would like for this to be a bit of a surprise. he left his phone in the car, so it wouldn’t suddenly ring or vibrate and expose him.

the first room he steps into is a living room, nicely decorated. a lot of expensive furniture. “this asshole sure loves spending money” max mutters to himself as he moves further into the house, looking behind every door he comes past.

he makes it into the kitchen. he hasn't run into anyone yet but he knows it won't be long and he doesn't have any way to defend himself, except for the bottle, but how useful is that really? he looks around the room and his gaze lands on a set of kitchen knives. almost glinting on the table, asking him to take one with him, so he does and moves further until he gets to a staircase. he can hear faint voices coming from upstairs, but he can't hear who they belong to or what the topic is. he quietly makes his way up the stairs, knife ready in his right hand, bottle in his left hand. he’s prepared for any surprise this might throw at him. 

before reaching the very top stop, he stops and wipes his eyes before taking the last step up. he looks around making sure they aren't right there just waiting for him. he moves towards the voices and his entire body stiffens as he hears your voice “don't hurt him! please! i’ll do anything to keep him safe,” max takes a couple more steps and stops, the voices are much louder now.

“everything huh?” max hears the french accent and immediately knows who it is. pierre. pierre fucking gasly. max is seething with rage. he can feel it in every fiber of his being. “how about,” the voice trails off and max hears you let out a whimper and his mind is suddenly full of all the things pierre could be doing to you. when max hears the second whimper, it’s clear pierre is doing something to inflict pain on you, and it’s almost as if something changes inside max. he’s barely got enough self control to stay put and put together a plan. but any plan he makes won’t be good enough if he doesn't do something now.

just as he’s about to jump in and do god knows what he hears your voice “va te faire foutre” (fuck off - google translate) you spit out, and he can’t help but feel proud, even if he has no clue what you said. he stands like that for a few seconds, until your muffled cry is heard and he springs into action, not even thinking about what he’s about to do, right in front of you.

both you and pierre, who didn’t hear max arrive, both get startled and rightfully so, who wouldn't be startled if a man comes at you with a knife, rage in his eyes. he won’t let anything happen. even if that means he has to kill. he’ll do it. he’ll do it for you. he tackles pierre in less than 2 seconds simply because he wasn’t prepared. stupid. max quickly gets himself positioned so pierre has no way of moving and then brings out the knife, taunting pierre a bit before he makes his first cut. no one will be able to identify pierre when max is done with him. however he hasn't noticed that you're tied to the chair, forced to watch as max digs the knife into pierres skin, slowly, dragging out the pain. as pierre thinks the first part is over, max quickly places the knife in his abdomen, making pierre cough up a bit of blood and just look at the knife with pure shock and horror in his eyes. max locks their eyes and keeps eye contact as he twists the knife making pierre groan in pain. funnily enough max is quite enjoying this. he slowly pulls out the knife, but not for long, he has a lot of work ahead of him. he doesn’t plan to let pierre off the hook easily. 

the red blood seems to never stop seeping out of the many wounds inflicted by max. it feels like it’s everywhere. the carpet, the walls, max’s hands. pierre. he's a mess. not recognisable at all. max gets up and looks around to see where you might have gone, only to see you strapped to the chair, tears never stopping from falling down your cheeks as you just stare at the mess in front of you. “what did you do? what the hell did you do?!” you almost scream, pain radiating from your voice. not only from what you just had to witness, but also from the wound above your knee. blood trickling down your leg. he should have noticed, he should have known. stupid. stupid. stupid! how could he miss this?

he rushes to your side, putting pressure on your wound, looking around for something he can use instead of his hands, but he can’t see anything useful. “please tell me you’re going to be okay.” max looks at your leg, the blood doesn't stop, his hands aren't enough.

your face is still full of tears, your skin looking a little pale. sweat starts to cover your skin. it almost looks like you just took a shower in your clothes “omg max,” you mumble, barely able to get the sentence out “did you just kill him?” you look at him with wide eyes as a sudden headache hits you, your vision becomes blurry, “what’s that ringing sound?” you ask, confused, barely able to focus, anxiety creeping into your brain, consuming all your thoughts.

max is just confused. there is no ringing. it's completely quiet, except for pierres ragged breaths. “i’m not sure what you’re talking about, schat, there is no ringing”

“the pain stopped.” max looked up at you, in horror at what you had just said. you couldn't not be in pain. he can’t leave the scene like this though so he unscrews the cap on the bottle he brought with him and pours it around pierre. he’s not sure this is going to look like an accidental fire, but does he really care about that right now? no. he only cares about you, and he needs to get you to a hospital now! he quickly gets you free from the chair, takes a lighter out of his pocket. he rips off a small piece of fabric from his shirt, and lights it on fire. he lets go of it and lets it drop to the floor where a ring of fire quickly spreads around pierre.

he has to move quickly now. he picks you up, your body already feels lifeless. he gets you to the car, luckily without running into any of pierre’s men. it was only a matter of time before they noticed the fire. 

he had to get to the hospital as quickly as he could. he floored the accelerator. getting you to the hospital is the only thing on his mind this second. and he did make it. however, your body was limp, lifeless. and he was afraid it was too late. but he still had to try, he didn't have time to feel for a pulse, just had to get you in quickly. 

“help! please!” he walked through the doors with you in his arms, multiple doctors running towards him.

“what happened?” a nurse asks while someone else asks for a gurney.

“i’m not sure, i was told to go to a location, and i found her inside, strapped to a chair with a wound above her knee” max basically told the truth, except for the part about pierre. no one had to know about that. no one would know about that.

“put her here, and we'll do our best to save her,” the nurse gestures to the gurney being pushed towards them in a hurry. they all disappear in a hurry, doing everything they can. max doesn't see much, but he does see that no one gives you CPR, which must mean you have a pulse. he looks down and notices his hands, covered in blood. which must mean his car is covered in blood too. which means he needs to clean it. 

he rushes out, rushing to his car. he has to get home, get it cleaned up. he can't seem to stop crying. and the fact it’s raining isn’t helping his vision at all. he pushes on the accelerator a bit more. his head is full of thoughts. thoughts of you, dying, it being his fault, he never had to get into this business.he decides to put on some music, and the song currently being played is one of the new ones from taylor swift. max doesn't mind it. he actually relates a little to the song. he turns up the volume and listen to the chorus of “who’s afraid of little old me”

a tear falls down his left cheek, as the roads get a bit narrower. this doesn't make him slow down. quite the opposite actually. he speeds up more. he likes the thrill of it. his alcohol level is way too high for him to be driving this quickly, in a part of town with a lot of traffic lights and pedestrians. 

he doesn't see the red light until it’s too late. the woman crossing the road to reach her friend doesn't notice either, her boyfriend does though, and he leaps out in front to try and push her out of the way. however, he doesn't manage to do it in time. max’s foot slams down on the break, but it’s too late. max closes his eyes, he knows how this will end. he hears a bang and all light disappears.

~

i haven't made a written fic since my wattpad days back in 2020 so i'm not sure how good this is. sorry about the cliffhanger hehealso very sorry i haven't posted in many days, i lowkey forgot about all of these, and then i got a tiny bit busy so when i did remember i didn't have time to write. anyway enjoy this while i work on something more

[starcrossed-lov3rz]

The Vow Spoken Through Time - Part 3

Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader

Series: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Warnings: MDNI, violence, minor character death, general filth, mild smut, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving), and Daemon Targaryen is his own warning 

Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra

Words: 2.2K

Description: Y/N is having a rough morning. She's fired. She's hungover. She's in a stranger's bed. She's waking up in a new world? She's married?!

Rhaenyra and Daemon's day started normal. Waking up next to their darling wife before tending to their duties. The difference? Their wife is speaking in riddles and has no memories of them.

AKA: You fall through worlds and wake up in our favorite blondes’ bed. SHAMELESS “reader falls into HOTD world from our world” trope (I’m sorry, I CANNOT help myself, I’m a sucker for them). There’s not really a plot plot, but if you stay long enough we might run into one.

Check out more works in my Masterlist!

You gaze out across the stadium, shocked at the hundreds of people clamoring to see the violence and pageantry of the tournament. Your hands smooth down your dress anxiously. Rhaenyra picked a beautiful gown. The deep red of the gown is offset with gold embroidery along your shoulders and waist. The patterns resemble dragon scales, glistening as the light hits it.

Rhaenyra looks over, seeing your anxious movements and grabbing your hand to still the gesture. She brings it up to her mouth, kissing the back of your hand before she turns to address the crowd.

“Be welcome!” She shouts. “I know that many of you have traveled great distances to witness these games. I trust you will not be disappointed.”

The crowd’s cheers are deafening, but Rhaenyra continues once they die down to a dull roar. “Looking across the fine knights here today, I see a group without equal. May the luck of the seven shine on our combatants!”

She raises your joined hands in a cheer. You brace yourself for whatever disapproval might come from the crowd. If two women in modern days still got weird looks in public, you weren’t sure you were ready for whatever reaction this medieval world would have. The crowd continues to cheer, and you swear you can hear someone shouting “all hail the queens.” 

Rhaenyra pulls you in for a chaste kiss before motioning for the tourney announcer to take over. Your cheeks are on fire from her very public display of affection. “I wasn’t expecting that reaction,” you admitted as you both took your seats. 

“Whatever do you mean, darling?”

“I-” you pause for a moment. “You know? I just didn’t think people would be so accepting of our relationship?”

Rhaenyra laughs, “the smallfolk have always adored you. How could they not?”

“It’s just that people where I’m from-”

“You’re from here.” Rhaenyra interrupts, frowning. “Your place is with me, with us. Our people–your people–would fight wars in your name.”

You sigh in frustration. Rhaenyra, Daemon, and the maester were still convinced that you fell and all the memories of your past life were just an odd dream. It wasn’t a frequent argument, but one that never failed to begin at the most inconvenient times.

When you don’t respond, Nyra cups your face in her hands and forces you to look her in the eyes. “Do you know what the smallfolk see when they look at you?”

“Nyra-”

“They see the same thing that I see,” she says. “A queen.” Your hand comes up to cover hers as you lean into her palm. 

Rhaenyra’s thumb gently strokes your cheek. “I love you. It doesn’t matter where you came from, you’re here now. You’re here, and you’re mine. Never forget that.” 

Your breath catches in your throat. “It’s not fair,” you whisper. “You always know exactly what to say.”

Before Rhaenyra can respond, a yell from the arena draws your attention. “My queen! My lady!” Daemon’s voice reverberates through the stadium. Both you and Rhaenyra walk to the edge of the balcony, and the site nearly takes your breath away. Your husband is terrifying in his armor, and so, so, so attractive. 

“Fuck,” you swear. The dark armor is covered in the Targaryen crest and adorned with dragon-reminiscent flairs throughout the pieces. Daemon removes his helmet, shaking our his hair and preening at the attention.

“My beautiful wives, I am certain that I will win this tournament.” Daemon boasts. “But with your favor, there will be no doubt.” 

Rhaenyra laughs, “I don’t know. Should we offer our dear husband our favor?” 

“Hmmm,” you pretend to think it over. “I fear there are many knights worthy of this honor. How am I to deci-”

“My love, must I get on my knees to beg your favor,” Daemon teases.

“It would certainly be a start,” you smirk. “I suppose I can give you our favor, on one condition.”

“Anything.”

“Win this tourney swiftly so we might celebrate your victory together.” You say, grabbing the favor.

Daemon winks at you, raising his fist as the crowd roars in approval. You watch your husband ride out to meet his first opponent. 

“You know we are never going to hear the end of it if he wins,” Rhaenyra sighs. Daemon takes his place across from the other knight, placing his helmet back on and adjusting his grip on the jousting lance. 

“Was there ever a doubt he would?” you ask as Daemon and his opponent charge at each other on horseback. The crash as the lance hit lands and breaks is unsettling. Daemon’s opponent flies from his saddle, landing hard on the ground.

“True,” Rhaenyra agrees. Daemon tosses the broken half of his lance, jumping to the ground and drawing his sword. “Next year I plan to find Daemon a real challenge.” Daemon stalks in a circle around his opponent, waiting for the knight to regain his footing and draw his weapon. The knight recovers, going on the offensive to swipe his sword at Daemon.

You snort in amusement. “Are the rest of the knights really that bad?” Daemon easily dances around blows, not even bothering to waste his energy by parrying them. He’s toying with the other knight. Letting him exhaust and embarrass himself in the arena before Daemon ends the fight. You see the ghost of a smirk play on Daemon’s lips as he tosses his helmet to the ground.

“No, they’re actually quite skilled,” Rhaenyra replies. The knight’s attacks become harder and more calculated. Daemon parries them with practiced ease. You see the knight lean in as he gets closer to say something to Daemon. They’re too soft for anyone else to hear, but Daemon clearly heard them. His smirk drops and his gaze darkens. 

He’s ending this now. Daemon pushes the knight back, swinging a hard blow with his sword.

“Daemon is just….” The knight scrambles to parry the swing, but the blow is hard enough to dislodge his grip. Your eyes widen in shock, Daemon is ending more than this fight. You instantly snap your eyes shut, but you can still hear Rhaenyra’s words in time with Daemon’s strikes.

“That.” 

“Much.” 

“Better.”

The knight’s screams stop with the final blow. You open your eyes to peak at the scene in front of you. The knight is unmoving on the ground. His armor dented in. His sword hand on one side of the arena. His head at the other.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” you mutter.

“A Targaryen tourney without at least one death would be considered boring.”

Your eyes land on your husband. He’s looming over the headless body of the knight. Daemon spits on the corpse before walking away.

Even Rhaenyra is shocked, but regardless, the tournament continues on throughout the late afternoon. The other fights are nowhere near as violent as Daemon’s round. Daemon is eerily calm as he wins his rounds with brutal efficiency. He doesn’t kill another opponent, but he makes light work of each one. 

After the stadium clears out, you walk with the maids back to your chambers as Rhaenyra left to greet some of the noble houses who haven’t visited Kings Landing since the last tournament. When you get back, you ask the maids to draw a bath and you gather up Daemon’s favorite soaps and oils. You didn’t realize just how serious a tournament was. After seeing that brutality, you were just relieved that Daemon was coming back safe.

The doors to your chambers shuts loudly,and you turn to see Daemon still in his armor. “Daemon-” He cuts you off with a kiss, sweeping you off your feet. 

“I need you.” Daemon says, pulling at your gown as he struggles to unlace the back. Growling in frustration, he tears the fabric. 

“Daemon! What’s gotten into you?” You yelp. “At least take off that damn armor first!”

“Fuck,” he swears, backing away from you as he begins slipping off his armor piece by piece. You reach forward to help him.

Once he’s rid himself of the armor, Daemon picks you up. You wrap your legs around his waist instinctively, and he grinds against you. He kisses and bites at your neck like a starved man. Whimpers and moans fall from your lips as you tug roughly at his hair. “Daemon, wait,” you say breathlessly. 

“Hmm,” he rumbles as he pulls back. 

“If you keep going, it’s going to ruin my plans,” you whine. “I wanted to spoil you. Please get in the bath before it gets cold.”

Daemon follows your gaze to the tub and sees your handiwork–candles meticulously placed around a steaming bath. The table next to the tub piled high with luxurious oils, wine, and fruits. “You did this for me?” He asks. You nod vigorously and he captures your lips in a heated kiss. “Gods above, you never fail to surprise me.”

You giggle as Daemon carries you to the tub and you both sink into the water. Daemon moans as the water eases over his sore muscles. You shift so that Daemon is leaning back against your chest and begin meticulously scrubbing his body. “You’re so perfect,” he groans as you massage at the knots in his shoulders. 

You hum in response, focusing on the knots. You find yourself softly singing as you work, and you glance down to see Daemon nodding off. Moving to work on his hair, you gently detangle his braids and massage the soap into his scalp.

“Love,” you begin, “what happened in that first fight?” You feel Daemon’s body stiffen against yours. 

“Nothing.” 

“Are you sure? It didn’t seem like nothing.” You answer. 

“It. Was. Nothing.” He’s definitely hiding something.

“No it wasn’t,” you insist. “He said something and you lost it. What did he say?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Daemon’s tone is short, but it’s clear he’s still upset over whatever that knight said.

“Yes it does, just te-”

“He called you a whore!” Daemon shouts, whipping around in the tub. “That spineless bastard called you a whore, and asked if he could take a turn after you finished eating Rhaenyra’s cunt on the balcony.”

You blink. Shocked. You assumed it was bad, but didn’t realize it would be quite that vulgar. “And you killed him for it?”

“If I could go back, I wouldn’t kill him,” Daemon bares his teeth as he hisses out the words.

You raise a brow in response.

“I would cut him apart piece by piece until he begged for death,” Daemon growls. “And when he’s on the brink of death, I would call for the maester to heal him so I could do it all over again.”

“Fuck,” you swear. Hearing your husband’s bloodthirst shouldn’t be this hot. Your breath quickens, and you shift.

Daemon notices your sudden shift in demeanor. “I see,” he grins. “I kill a man for disrespecting you, and all you can think about is my cock.”

You whine, desperate for Daemon to touch you. After he and Rhaenyra left you wanting this morning, you’ve been on edge all day. Daemon stands up, water sloshing from the tub as he climbs out and pours a glass of wine. He sips a mouthful before leaning down to kiss you. You moan as the wine hits your tongue. Daemon pulls back, popping a grape in your mouth before picking you from the tub and tossing you on the bed.

“I’ll just have to give my sweet girl exactly what she wants,” Daemon says. He drips wine across your body, lapping up the drops as he follows the trail with his tongue. Daemon knocks back the rest of his wine, placing the chalice on the dresser. He settles between your legs, wrapping his arms around your thighs as he dives into your cunt.

Daemon’s tongue swipes broad strokes across your cunt, lapping greedily. He suckles at your clit, and you cry out in pleasure as his hums vibrate against you.

“What is this?”

You try to shoot up to greet Rhaenyra, but Daemon’s arms have you locked in place. “Rha-Rhae-fuck-Rhaenyra” You struggle to speak as you feel your orgasm building. Your eyes roll back as Daemon moves an arm to slide two fingers into your weeping cunt. Moans fall from your lips as you buck into his mouth and hands.

Just before you climax, Daemon pulls back. “My queen,” he greets as Rhaenyra leans in for a kiss. 

“I take it our girl couldn’t wait?”

Daemon grins. “She never does.”

NOTE: This was supposed to just be smut, but I got carried away. Anyway, hope you enjoyed bloodthirsty Daemon, I know I did. Next part coming Friday or Saturday night (and yes, it’s going to pick up RIGHT where we left off). I have two delicious requests in the works: 1) a Feyd Rautha request (featuring the iconic darlings), and 2) a Daemon request (featuring some angst and steamy make-up sex). ~ Lacie <3

Taglist: @syraxnyra @avalyaaa

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[xxchaosjojoxx]

So idk if you actually feel comfortable writing for Luffy I am looki for one piece x reader writers who have the requests open and came across you anyway I request takes place after the time skip where reading I ask Luffy if next year they can celebrate Ace with Luffy aka next year on the day of his death instead of feeling sad they want me make sure Luffy is happy so they will spend the entire day doing things would love like eating us favorite foods and doing things he would love.

A/N : thank you for your request. I hope i understood it correctly and you will enjoy it <3 i never wrote luffy x reader so i hope it is still ok

You are not alone

You were sitting at the dinner table with your whole crew. Everyone was laughing, eating the delicious dishes Sanji created and telling jokes and stories. You couldn’t avoid your eyes, gazing at your captain.He was his usual cheerful and happy self you all know and love, despite the fact that this wasn’t real today. Today was different, his smile didn’t reach his eyes whenever he said something or did something and laughed with Usopp and Chopper. Even his appetite didn’t reach his peak today. You could think of one reason though. The day after tomorrow was the day that Ace died in his arms, protecting your captain and his little brother. It was hard for Luffy, you saw him breaking down at Amazon Lily, after you were apart from your crewmates. You couldn’t do anything except, hugging him, comforting him and just be there for him and cry so he won’t be alone during this. After nearly 3 years it was still fresh for him, but he never showed any signs that it still hurts. Of course everyone knew. They played along all the time. And still everyone knew that he will do the nightwatch on the crows nest. Guarding the ship while in reality he will use his time to be alone, crying and grieving in silence so he can be the captain with the bright smile in front of his crew. It took a hand on your shoulder and a short shake to come back to reality. You were looking in Luffy’s eyes, he looked worried. “Everything ok, Y/N? You look kinda pale.” You shook your head lightly and gave him a small smile. “Sorry to worry you. I was just lost in thoughts.” So everyone went back to eating, joking, laughing,, except for you. After dinner you helped Sanji clean the kitchen.

“A penny for your thought, my dear?” Sanji’s calm voice made you turn your head to him. He was looking at you with soft eyes. “Is it about Luffy?”

You nodded. They all knew that he tried to hide it. “I know he says that he is fine, whenever we speak about it. I don’t wanna repeat this every year. I want to see him happy.”

Sanji hummed in response and lit a cigarette. “Any idea? I would love to help you.”

“Not yet. But I am sure that Ace would want him to be happy and not sad nor grieving. We promised him back in Alabasta that we would take care of him.”

You and Sanji cleaned the kitchen in silence, both of you thinking of a plan and suddenly you had one. With quick steps you and Sanji went outside, finding your crewmates and telling them your idea. You would need the help of everyone for this.

During the next day everyone was busy, preparing something for your captain.

Luffy was sitting on top of the Thousand Sunny, watching the dark water in his sight. It was nearly midnight and then the day of Ace's sacrifice would be present for him all again. He sighed, leaning his head in his knees. Suddenly he heard a sound and searched his eyes so he could find the source of it. He saw you, climbing on top of the sunny as well. With his gum gum power he helped you. “Thanks Luffy.”

He looked at you without any emotions. “What are you doing here? I am on watch.”

You unpacked a backpack that was on your back and showed him a lunchbox, a blanket and a little notebook.  “I want to celebrate with you.”

Luffy froze and clenched his hands into fists automatically. “Celebrate?” He asked with a cold tone in his voice. You tried to ignore it, while looking him in the eyes with a smile. “Come here please.” You sat down, with a blanket around you. He obeyed and still looked kinda mad at you. “We prepared something for you.”

“We?”

You nodded. “Just hear us out and let me explain ok?”  You gave him a bento box and the smell of his favorite meal was visible. As he opened he looked really happy. “Is this my favorite meat? And even one piece of Chopper’s favorite Cotton Candy chocolate?” You laughed and Luffy began to eat happily. “The best for you, for today. Luffy, we know that you do this and hide yourself. Ace wouldn’t want you to be sad and grieving.” He choked on his food, while looking at you with an unpleasant look.

Before he could finish the meal he pressed the box in your hands. “Go please. I’m not hungry anymore.”

You hugged him tightly. “Oii, Y/N I said go.” Before he could shove you away, he could feel a tear brushing his cheeks. “I won’t let you be alone, Please, we are your family as well.” He slowly returned the hug. “I won’t let you be alone anymore. You don’t have to cry alone anymore. Please let us help you.” You pulled away, revealing puffy eyes and a red face. Will you come down to the rest of us? We prepared something for you.”

With a confused look and a nod the both of you jumped on the deck, with every strawhat member smiling at you two.

“Aren’t you guys asleep?” Luffy asked.

“How could we let our captain be alone? Yohohoho.” Brook said.

Franky had tears in his eyes. “Everything will be suuuper tonight, captain.”

They prepared a large picnic with Luffy's favorite dishes all over the deck.

“It was Y/N’s idea.” Zoro simply said and took a sip of some sake.

Robin and Nami were looking at you. “Did you give him the notebook?” With a smile you handed it over to him.

“Everyone helped you know?”

Luffy sat down, opening the little black notebook in his hands.

He was shocked and somehow happy. There were several hand drawn pictures of Ace.

“Nami tried to draw Ace based on our memories, his wanted poster and even a picture of you, Ace and Sabo as kids. He was talking to Zoro and Franky back in Dressrosa, remember?”

Luffy was turning the pages. “Jimbei could provide us with a  few stories about him. Robin could find a few information about him and stories about Ace as well.

Luffy was flipping through every page, this was a book about him. That defined him as his brother. He let out a soft sniffle and everyone was beside him, smiling at him hugging him.

“Thank you guys.” He couldn’t say more. It was ok for your captain to be just human and let his emotions out. He needed it. A loving memory from his family about his beloved brother. He would treasure it with his life forever.

[imweirdimjazzy]

Questions of Hell

Pairing: Alastor x GN!Reader

Description: after tiring a day, it wouldn’t be such a bad idea for the radio demon chasing you with questions spending the night, right?

Warnings: mentions of drugs and that’s about it (alastor is prick btw)

Word count: 2104

A/N: hello! This is kinda my first time posting here in tumblr so bear with me on my first post here. Also this isn’t proofread so there could be couple of mistakes here and there so I’m sorry about that. No use of Y/n. But please enjoy it! Btw this fic can be taken as romantic or platonic either could work. Enjoy! :)

For most of my human life I thought death would be simple and morbid. Once life expectancy reaches its limit for how much it can go, the body starts to get tired and the brain will shut, just as the body decomposes.

And just like that you would be dead.

I never tried hard to question the afterlife since it had gave me a headache if I had think too hard about it but I do admit I had a few times where I did think about it too hard.

I just didn’t expect to wind up as a goddamn sinner in a literal pot of hell.

I can admit I wasn’t exactly the most holiest person. I fucked up. Quite a lot of times. And I suppose that life is all about whether you be rewarded to get into heaven or thrown down to hell for punishment.

And for that I now have to deal with the princess of hell and her friends in the Hazbin Hotel.

Charlie was energetic to know that I was another guest at the hotel ready to redeem sinners and probably grab the chance to get to heaven. Seems quite ridiculous once the opportunity was handed to me. Honestly I stayed because I knew nowhere else would let me stay without paying or doing something to repay back.

Yet I got to meet some of the most interesting people. Starting with Angel Dust who was porn star himself and only seems to make it his whole personality but he sure knew how to make a party start going. He also makes anything—and I mean ANYTHING to be dirty.

Vaggie who seems to be strict on everyone and trying her best for all of us to actually have good morals. Sure, we didn’t care but we all understood she wanted for the best of us. Sir Pentious was there to spy on them because of the Vees but then accidentally liked the idea of staying and making a better change of himself.

And there was Nifty who has a certain quirk driven into her personality that was unlike everyone else but she was almost a kid just needed to be protected. Just try not to get stabbed by her. Husk who seems to tell everyone to fuck off even though he’s bartender and you’re sitting at the bar specifically wanting a drink. He acted he hated everyone, but he never really did. He just hated someone who seems to fake who they actually are.

And I’m guessing that’s why he isn’t particularly fond of Alastor.

Alastor is a unique demon. To say in a short sweet way to not say any bad word on his name. Yet it’s hard to say he’s quite a mystery to all of us. Charlie might own the hotel but Alastor is faculty manager of the hotel. He’s always looming somewhere in here and always there with an eye to watch us.

I have to admit I even avoid him. His presence was kind I never had bump into, I rather make it stay that way.

My legs had grown numb and heavier as I kept walking back to the hotel. I was exhausted from Charlie’s shenanigans today. Trying to encourage other sinners out there to come to the hotel and save themselves from the extermination. Failed horribly since how many either attempt to kill us, offer sex, or offer straight up cocaine.

I gave up and had left Charlie with the others to keep going. It was getting late either way and they were planning to go into club.

Didn’t want to get myself into too much trouble anymore either way.

Pushing the doors to let myself in the hotel—I had let out an exhale that I had held all day. My body was slumped and all I could think was my comfy bed.

“My, my, you look quite a mess dear!”

The radio voice had made me slightly jump out of my skin.

To the right of me I could see Alastor sitting on a couch in the lobby. One hand with whiskey in a glass cup and the other with a book. His legs crossed with one leg on top bouncing to the sound of jazz playing background.

“Alastor?”

“Didn’t expect a fellow like me up around this hour, but I couldn’t resist such a great novel here wouldn’t you say?”

He made that little hum that sparked a few radio statics in his voice.

“Look, if you’re here to mock or annoy me today I make sure those antlers of yours are gonna be long gone before you know it.”

Alastor laughed and got up with swift movement with his cane. That smile was almost stitched to his face every glance I took of him. I expect there won’t be a day where I don’t see that venom smile of his.

His hands clasped in front of him as he eyed me down. “Now why would I do that? I merely checking up on is all.”

He said it with such a smirk in his voice.

“Sure, whatever, do what you want I guess,” I grumbled under my breath.

Attempting to head upstairs, Alastor tried to get in my way as he kept reappearing in front of me in every corner I try to go.

“What the—“

“Ah, ah, ah. Where do you think you’re going?” A playful tone was layered into his voice. Letting out chuckle as his antlers move just for a second.

He knew it was getting on my nerves.

“To my room. Is there something that you want?”

I was a bit hesitant when I first spoke, especially since Alastor was a type of demon who never necessarily wants nothing out of someone except manipulation.

He makes that same hum again, letting out a sing-song voice. “Well, I’m bored and I’m in the mood of doing something.”

“Okay—kill someone or some deer.”

I tried again walking away but he reappears again in front of me on the steps of the stairs. Keeping his eyes on me as he leaned on the handrail of the stairs. I could tell from his eyes that my annoyance was kicking the roof by now.

“Not really in the mood for that kind of fun tonight dear. I was actually hoping to maybe play some sorts of game with you.”

“A game?” I questioned.

“Yes! Just any sort of ordinary game. A game where I can ask questions about you and you have to answer them.”

I blinked at him for a moment and then narrow my eyes.

“So you’re interrogating me.”

“No, nonsense! Now, come on, sit on the couch and make yourself comfortable.”

Alastor nudge me downstairs and I follow him. I had no choice and I rather didn’t wanna push any limits with radio demon exactly. He wasn’t the type to be messing around.

Suspicion was written all over my face as I sat down.

Alastor offers whiskey in a glass with a smile. “Whiskey, dear?”

“Um—-no, no thank you.”

He sets the glass on the side table along with the book. Peering to my side I notice the book was the classic Dracula book.

Alastor sat on the other end of the couch. A leg propped on the other. Resting his chin on his hand on the arm rest.

“Now, I’ll start of the with an easy question to start off soft,” stated Alastor. “Do I annoy you?”

“Yes. Next question.”

His smirk grew wide yet his eyes narrowed down on me. Letting out a laugh that sounded for sure forced but as well annoyed.

“Okay, let me ask an easier question. What is your favorite color?”

“Oh well um—maroon. Maroon is my favorite color.”

Alastor hummed to himself. “Quite an unique answer. Didn’t take you as the type to like color such as maroon.”

“Red or maroon. I just like good color of red. Next question.”

Alastor tapped his fingers along the arm rest as he thought of another question to ask.

“What’s your favorite time of day?

Looking back at him with a tilted head I raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Alastor rolled his eyes jokingly and chuckled, seeming slightly amused of me. “I mean exactly what I said. What is your favorite time of day? Mornings? Afternoons? Nights?”

He lists off with this condescending tone, as if he spoke to me as a child.

“Watch your tone, and watch your ears, deer,” I hissed. But since you’re so damn curious. It’s night. And sometimes late afternoons. Not as much anymore though. I love them more in human life.”

“Human life you say?”

Alastor watches me as I adjust the black turtleneck I wore.

“Next question please.”

Alastor didn’t say anything but made a louder hum as he thought. Still overbearing me with annoyance of course.

“I’m running out of quite a lot of questions here but I suppose I should’ve asked this first, how are you liking this hotel so far?”

The tone switches and audibly notices it. Turning into this nonchalant tone. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to be curious or crack me under pressure with his eyes seeming to only stare at me.

With a sharp inhale I spoke direct.

“Annoying as fuck. I never was too fond of the idea of redeeming since it was hard to wrap my head around the fact that sinners here can even get the chance to go up to heaven with the rest of angels.”

He kept silent with his smile but I kept continuing.

“I didn’t think it would work. And I still have mixed feelings about it but…I do have to admit I kinda like the friends I made here.”

His eyebrow raised and he tilted his head almsot intrigued of what I had said. “I see. And these friends you’ve made here..”

His smile twisted into a smirk as he leaned forward slightly, his elbows on his knees.

“Any particular ones you admire the most?”

It was a question that had me actually thinking this time around and I knew it was a way for Alastor to get to me, and I didn’t want him too.

“Well, each person has their own unique thing to admire.”

He tweaks his head to the side and only narrows his eyes. Still with smile.

“Charlie can be a lot and maybe too hyper, but she’s willing to give people a chance. Vaggie pushes everyone and is harsh but does it for us to get better.. Sir Pentious is someone willing to give up villainous tendencies. Angel is…well Angel but he is a friend that is loyal and would do anything to back up friend.

Husker and Nifty are the same as well. All of them have everything to admire about.”

Alastor listened intently on how I spoke each of the hotel residents living here

“Interesting. Very interesting.”

He sat back once again, his legs still crossed and his hands back in his lap. Alastor chuckled again, looking at me for a moment.

“And what about me? Is there anything you admire about me?”

I scoffed and smirk a little.

“A bit full of yourself are you?”

His eye twitched a little and seemed ready to respond, but I quickly added on.

“You always stay in control. Even if you aren’t or you’re not wanting to, you always are. You piece of shit who certainly earn a spot living here. I’ll give you that, but even I can admit that you’re intelligent in what you do. Even how manic and evil it can be.”

Alastor chuckled again. He was quite amused by my words. That wasn’t what he was expecting, but he was satisfied by it. He leaned forward a bit again, resting his arms on his legs. His elbows on his knees once again as he stared right into your eyes with his permanent smirk.

“How observant you are my dear. I thought you’d think of me as a annoying bastard”

“No, I also think that too.”

A smile spread on my lips as genuine the pit of fire in hell and before another word had slipped out of Alastors mouth, a rush of familiar friends came through the door.

“I need fucking a drink what the hell was that!?” Angel's voice rang through the hotel and same with others.

I laughed and got distracted by them as soon they called for me but Alastor sat on the couch there observing the others.

Asking himself many questions of himself now.

For how much this sinner might’ve made him rethink his plan.

[prollywolly]

Family Matters [prologue]

wolly's masterlist family matters masterlist

summary: It was filthy. He was your dad’s best friend. This man has known you since you were sixteen. He went to your eighteenth birthday party and watched you blow out the candles. He knew what he was doing. You were merely taking the bait. Where was the harm in that?

warnings: mentions of death, slight language. nothing too bad for the prologue :)

a/n: welcome to the prologue of my new series! i was looking for the right amount of creativity to come to me for my very first post, so i hope you all enjoy this! i'm not too sure how many chapters it will be, but if you'd like to join the taglist, comment or shoot me a message/ask and i'll be more than happy to add you! bare with me as i get used to all of this and find my groove with posting <3 thank you! i hope you enjoy!

word count: 1.4k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

California summers were never something to fuck with. When the temperatures rose past the high nineties, nobody was going outside for anything. However, there were days like today, where the sun beamed at a warm 85 degrees. And on days like today, your dad thought it was perfect to have friends over. 

Carne asadas were always your favorite type of get-togethers. Your dad always seemed so happy to be behind the grill shooting the shit with his friends, your mom would always be at one of the tables talking to all the tias and her friends, and you would be playing with your cousins in the backyard just waiting for the food to be ready.

Normally, walking around and greeting everyone would be mom’s job. She was always so good at making everyone feel welcome and comfortable at their house. You never understood how mom did it, but she tried her hardest to have the same effect on everyone. It was draining, to say the least. Even at the ripe age of sixteen, your social battery didn’t have the capacity to keep muttering the same greeting to every single person that walked into the house.

The smell of burning charcoal hung thick in the air. You were just happy to see dad smiling and laughing. The last time you saw him like this was for your fifteenth birthday, right before mom died.

“Hija, I think I heard the doorbell, can you go see who’s there?” Your dad shouted from the grill, beer in hand as he turned the meat over.

You nodded and walked into the house, making out quite a large shadow from the glass on the front door. Once you opened the door, you were met with a tall man. He had to have been at least 6’2. His energy just radiated confidence and strength, it was almost overbearing. He was muscular, broad shoulders and a muscular back with biceps and legs to match. His hair was dark and in unruly waves. It was one of those haircuts that was so messy and effortless that it made it perfect. He had a strong jawline and cheekbones, his features were sharp and made him look more intimidating than he already was.

“Ho-hola, does… Alejandro live here?” The man’s voice was husky yet smooth. His stuttering was a huge contrast to the confident demeanor he had from when you had first opened the door.

“Hola, mucho gusto! Yeah, he does, he’s just in the backyard.” You smiled as nicely as you could and noticed the man smirk softly. [Hi, nice to meet you!]

Once he stepped into the house, you made your way over to the backyard. He towered over you, at least a foot larger than you, and that was being modest.

“Apa! Someone’s here for you!” You shouted, watching your dad look up from the grill to look at the man that was standing a bit further behind.

Your dad dropped the tongs that were in his hand and nearly dropped his beer. It would be a long time in hell before dad ever wasted an open beer. You couldn’t help the confused expression that clouded your face as your dad tore his apron off his waist and neck before rushing over to where you stood.

“Miguel!” your father shouted. “Como estas, vato? I’m glad you made it!” [How are you bro?]

The man you now knew as Miguel just chuckled and embraced your father tightly. His hand sounded like it was heavy as it slapped your father’s back. You just stood off to the side and watched your father’s reunion happen with a soft smile on your face.

“Me va mejor que a ti wey,” Miguel chuckled. [I'm doing better than you bro]

It seemed like they were talking for hours before dad remembered that you were just standing off to the side watching it happen. Your dad slapped his forehead and gently grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the two of them.

“Miguel, this is my daughter,” You smiled at him and Miguel’s jaw dropped. 

“Your daughter?”

Miguel looked at your features with such curiosity. You merely blinked and just stayed silent as Miguel studied you. 

“Cuantos años tienes?” [How old are you?]

“I’m sixteen! I’ll be seventeen in a couple weeks,” You answered, looking down at the floor to try and get rid of the embarrassment you felt from Miguel staring so intently.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

The rest of the night was a blur.

You couldn’t remember what time everyone left, but you knew that Miguel and your dad were still outside talking in the backyard. Throughout the night, you watched their friendship unfold, a silent witness to conversations that stretched into the early hours of the morning. You smiled to yourself as you decided to take care of the dirty work and pick up after the party.

You opened the sliding door and noticed both of them glance over in your direction, a quiet observer to the bond between your father and his friend. You didn’t pay attention and began to pick up solo cups and stray paper plates. As you tied up one of the trash bags, your dad waved you down.

“I can take care of that in the morning, mija,” Your father insisted. “Come sit down with us!”

It was kind of nostalgic to see your dad like this. Ever since your mom passed away, he always put on a front for you, acting as though he now had a duty to be both your dad and your mom simultaneously. It was hard to see that he just wanted to be there for you because her death was still pretty recent. Somehow, you always managed to selfishly forget that he was struggling with her death too. You lost your mom; he lost the love of his life. It was easy to find comfort in each other, though. Her love was still coursing through your veins and maybe that’s what’s kept the both of you grounded.

“Actually, there’s something that I need to tell you, jefe.” Miguel’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. [jefe = boss]

Your dad flicked his head and sat back in his lawn chair comfortably. 

“My primo [cousin] and his wife back in Tijuana are struggling with finding the right people to build their house and they’re begging me to go help them.” Your dad’s face dropped slightly. “I-I don’t know how long they’ll need me for, pero, [but] they could use my help as far as the contracting side of things.”

Your dad’s posture stiffened. He nodded his head at Miguel’s explanation and shrugged his shoulders slightly. He was upset, you could tell immediately. But, this was something that Miguel had to do, and it seemed like your dad understood that pretty well.

“Bueno…” Your dad’s upset demeanor faded momentarily. “Ni pedo wey. This is family, do what you gotta do. You’ll still have a job back here when you come back.” [Well, what can you do, man?]

Miguel’s face brightened and he let out a small huff of air. He stood up from his chair and offered his hand out to your dad. Your dad stood up to take his hand and embraced Miguel tightly. You weren’t sure how Miguel hadn’t come around the house before, they seemed like they were inseparable.

“Thank you for understanding,” Miguel muttered softly.

When they pulled away, your dad reached into the cooler for another beer. He was grabbing at nothingness and was surprised to see that all the beers you had packed into the cooler were gone. He let out a small scoff and stood up from his chair.

“You’re not getting away from me without having one more beer, eh? I’m gonna grab some from inside, I’ll be right back.”

As your dad walked inside, it was just you and Miguel sitting in silence. You looked down at your lap and felt the heat rising up to your cheeks. You didn’t do well in awkward situations like this.

“S-So what’s Tijuana like? I’ve heard that it’s beautiful,” It was a weak attempt at making conversation, but it seemed to get the job done.

“I love it. There’s a beach not far from the city center in Playas de Tijuana. I used to go there when I was a little kid and sneak off with whatever food the vendors were selling on the pier.” Miguel chuckled softly. “One of the vendors’ names was Maria. She would catch me stealing every time, but she never said anything. She would just pretend like she didn’t see me.”

You laughed aloud. “What would you steal from that poor woman?”

“She made the most amazing barbacoa tacos I’ve ever had. To this day, nobody will ever make those tacos like she did.” Miguel smiled and shook his head. “Pobrecita,” [Poor thing]

Tijuana seemed like it was important to Miguel. You only managed to nervously ask him a couple more questions before your dad came back with their beers. You took that as your opportunity to let the both of them finish catching up before Miguel had to leave.

“I’m gonna go to bed, Apa. Wake me up so I can help you clean in the morning.” You placed a kiss on your father’s cheek and gave him a tight hug.

You turned to look at Miguel with the kindest smile you could muster, silently thanking him for bringing back your dad’s old self, even if just for tonight. “It was nice meeting you, Miguel. I hope you make it back home safely.”

Miguel smiled at you and nodded his head. “Muchas gracias, goodnight.” [Thank you so much]

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆..⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

[medleymisty]

Normally I would put this on my personal (@deathlygristly if you wanna follow it) but I have a lot more followers here and also Simblr does involve a lot of fiction, so I'll ask here.

I've seen some posts on my dash lately about what's "appropriate" for children to read, and in the notes I've seen people talking about fictional death being bad for kids. This is news to me, as my father died a month after I turned seven and I never met the spousal person's mother since she died a few months before we met. He was 17 when she died. He's the oldest of five, and the youngest was 5 when their mother died.

So to me it feels really weird to see other people saying that my and my in-law's IRL experiences aren't "appropriate" in fiction for other people.

I kind of want to make a poll asking how old you were the first time someone close to you died, but really I want to talk more about fiction.

I haven't written in a few years because I don't have much time for it now with the spousal person's Korean drama obsession, but all my stories tend to be what I guess other people consider "dark." But also one of my most treasured Sims stories memories is a comment on Valley about a group of nine year old girls reading it together at a sleepover.

If you write fiction, do you care about the age range of your audience? Do you think some topics are appropriate and others aren't for some people who might be reading your work? What did you read as a kid, and what did you think about it, and how does that inform your writing and your stances on fiction today?

More personal stuff under the cut that you ain't gotta read if you don't want.

Personally when I was 9 I read every book the local library had on the Holocaust. I think that was a very good thing, I would fight anyone who said I shouldn't have been allowed to do it, and I think that now as an adult I am much less likely to be radicalized by the internet than someone who didn't read about the horrors that the human propensity for authoritarianism/hatred/etc. can lead to in their formative years.

Which honestly as I was writing the bit about my real experiences as a child being considered inappropriate for other children to even just read fiction about, I realized that censoring comes from a place of privilege and power and that keeping children of certain groups unaware of how the children of other groups live because it's "not appropriate" for them to know about the lives of people without their group's social power is....something.

An example I found related to parental death:

Black Americans are more likely to experience the death of a parent earlier in their lives. Using adults aged 25 to 34 as an example, about 15% of the white population and Asian population in the age group have lost one or both parents. That is compared with 17% of the Hispanic population and 24% of the black population in that age group who have experienced the death of a parent. Poor Americans are also more likely to experience the death of parent earlier in their lives. Among adults aged 35 to 44, 43% of those living below the federal poverty line (FPL) have experienced the death of one or both parents compared with 28% of wealthy adults (defined here as those earning at least 400% of the FPL). Taken together, the data shows that inequality is just as inescapable in death as it is in life for Americans.

So....yeah. I am firmly in the people can read whatever they want whenever they want to camp.

[sunnyie-eve]

6 | The Risk

Series: The Benefits 

Paring: Coriolanus Snow x OFC Plinth!

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: mention of death

| MASTERLIST |

~

While in district 12, Coriolanus knew Sejanus was going to have trouble since he wanted to help people. He knew he would have to keep his ass in check to make sure Sejanus doesn't get into trouble because if he did he'll go down with him.

For the weekend he finally got to see Lucy Gray alive and well as she preformed on stage. He was happy to see her. Back in the Capitol he listened to his Grandma'am and used her before she could use him but along the way he developed a little crush on her. But there was no way he had strong feelings for her like he did with Aurelia.

While being in District 12 he and Lucy Gray grew closer but he could never bring himself to kiss her no matter how many times she thought he would. She wasn't as perfect at Aurelia. He had to think of the long run and what was good for him.

Back in the Capitol, Aurelia had to work closer with Dr. Gaul because her father it was best for her since she was so smart and could come up with new experiments.

Even though Dr. Gaul had her constantly busy, she trod her best to help Tigris and Grandma'am. The two had to move due to not having money to pay rent, so Aurelia was helping them with where they were renting out now.

Grandma'am appreciated Aurelia's help and loved how she would come over with new groceries to keep the place stocked for them to eat. She would even just come over to spend time with them since Coriolanus was gone.

"It's about time I get a call from you." She laughs as Sejanus comes through.

"You have to earn and work for a call. How are things at home?" He laughs at her.

"Alright. Father has me working with Dr. Gaul so she keeps me super busy. When I have free time I'm with Coryo's family helping them since they had to move out." She catches him up, "How have you been?"

"I've been good. Trying to help the people here." He tells her but she didn't think he was that stupid to do what he was actually doing.

"That's good. Ma, misses you. With you gone though she babies me even more which I love but it has its moments."

"I'm sure it does. And I swear if you become her favorite with me gone... when I get back I'm gonna make you regret it." They both laugh.

"That's quite a long time so you'll forget by then. I gotta go. It was nice talking to you and seeing you again. Love you."

"Love you too. Tell Ma!" He shouts.

"Of course I will!" She ends the call. "Ma, Sejanus said he loves and misses you." She goes to the kitchen.

"Of course he does but I'm glad he finally called. I miss him so much." She sighs.

"I know but he's doing it to do something he loves." Aurelia hugs her mother, "I'm off to Dr. Gaul then afterwards swing by to see Grandma'am and Tigris."

For Dr. Gaul, Aurelia had to keep records of how certain experiments were going. Hell, she had feed different animals experiments they were working on. She hated getting up close with all of them since Dr. Gaul wanted to use them for future games.

"Sorry, I'm a little late than I normally am. Dr. Gaul had me make copies of what I wrote today." Aurelia enters the house to help Tigris cook dinner.

"Coryo called earlier today. He noticed we moved out. I told him you're helping us out and over doing it to make sure we're okay. He's glad you're okay along with us. He gave me some news... they want him to do officer training in district 2." Tigris lets her know.

"He must be doing really really good. Sejanus called me earlier too."

"Must be our lucky day." Tigris smiles as joins her with cooking.

Later in District 12 the same day Coriolanus find Sejanus, "I talked to my cousin earlier today. She said that Aurelia is helping them out spending time with them."

"Yeah, she told me when I talked to her earlier." Sejanus lets him know.

"Were you gonna tell me you talked to her?" Coriolanus eyes him as he shrugs.

"Didn't cross my mind to tell you but you brought her up since Tigris told you about her." Sejanus looks away from him, "Plus she my sister and you guys are just friends because of me."

Coriolanus can't help but let out a chuckle, "I've kissed your sister twice by the way." He says so Sejanus looks at his with wide eyes.

"Why?"

"Why? Because she's perfect and I like her." He laughs more.

"I thought you liked Lucy Gray? So what are you doing?" Sejanus asks his friend.

"I did like Lucy Gray but she's not your sister. No one can out do your sister."

"Might want to tell her that next time you see her because that girl likes you, Coryo." Sejanus walks off

-

Aurelia was busy working when Dr. Gaul calls her to check the jabberjays that arrived last night, "Where did this one come from?" She asks her.

"District 12, I already listed to what it recorded. But I want you to hear it as well. I want to confirm something." Aurelia loos at her confused, "Go ahead dear." Dr. Gaul smiles so Aurelia plays it.

"They're just doing what anybody else would do, Coryo. The leader, Spruce, he wants to get his sister, Lil, out of jail on base. Hoff is going to execute her just because she knows the man they killed, it's wrong. I'm gonna help them get her out." She hears her brother come through causing her heart to drop as Dr. Gaul takes the recorder turning it off.

"He continues to go on even though Coriolanus tells him it's treason but he didn't seem to care. Says it's worth the risk." Dr. Gaul sums up the rest, "You know I won't let this go, Miss Plinth. Your brother is a trader."

Aurelia tries her hardest to remind calm refusing to show any emotion to Dr. Gaul, "What's gonna happen to him?"

"Distinct 12 has already hung him along with the rest of the rebels. We have the news to your parents as well."

"He knew the risk of helping them." Aurelia swallows the lump in her throat trying not to cry.

After the new Aurelia was allowed to go home and as soon as she was out of the building tears ran down her face. She was never going to get to see him again. He was never coming back home. She was an only child now. She hated that he just had to help people in the wrong ways. She hated how he seemed to talk so freely around the jabberjays.

Was it just the wrong timing to talk or did Coriolanus record the conversation? Aurelia didn't want to believe that but that's who he was talking to. Did he send it just so he couldn't get dragged down with Sejanus? Aurelia just felt her world spinning around her as she walked home.

As soon as she opened the door she could hear the cries from her mother mourning the loss of her only son. Sejanus was a mamas boy and now he wasn't just like that. Aurelia knew she should've comforted her mother but she goes straight to her room to cry alone in peace.

For the next few days, Aurelia cried herself to sleep but would act fine around Dr. Gaul while she worked. At the moment she had no idea Coriolanus was back seeing Dr. Gaul.

She was letting him know that he would be studying under her at the university since Mr. Plinth offered to pay for everything. Because to his knowledge Coriolanus was such a good friend to Sejanus.

"Quite impressive, how you sent your only friend to the noose just to get my attention."

"That's not what I did." He tells her.

"Are you sure? Because I think that won you the Plinth Prize, after all." She lets him know, "The President has agreed to another year of the Games. People watched. And I have you to thank for that. Even Aurelia since she gave you some ideas."

She goes on to ask about what are the Hunger Games for and he finally gives her an answer she liked and believed, "Oh, if you take the first door on the left leaving, you'll find Ms. Plinth." She waves him off so he follows her instructions.

Sure enough there she was feeding some of the snakes and taking notes on a few others. Her hair was in its natural state of being curly, and not straightened like she's been doing for years. She had it up in a clip to keep out of her face as she worked. Her outfit was a shirt red velvet dress with long puffy white sleeves. Even her shoes matched her dress.

"Listen little dude. I know you're hungry but you and the rest in your tank are the test subjects to see how long you can go without eating and how aggressive you get." She talks to the snake thinking she was still the only person in the room, "Thankfully you have taken a liking to me since I'm with you guys for hours."

Coriolanus couldn't help but smile watching her. He thought that when Lucy Gray betrayed him by running off he lost all his caring felling for anyone. He saw her as a friend after everything wanting to protect yet she left him. He didn't want that to happen ever again but Aurelia had something about her still.

"You don't have a fear of snakes anymore, I see." He finally speaks up causing her to spin around.

"Coryo," She was surprised to see him.

"Dr. Gaul got the President to give me full pardon. I'll be studying under her at the University. What are you doing here?" He walks over as she puts the snake away.

"I work and study under her too. My father's suggestion and as suggestion, I mean his decision." She laughs, "And yes, my fear is gone now. Dr. Gaul forced me to get rid of it fast."

"I'm sorry about Sejanus. I wish I could have done more to help him. I told him many of times not to get involved."

"I know, Dr. Gaul told me what you said in the recording." She looks down.

"You know about that?" He was shocked she knew about the recording he sent.

"She had me listen to it. To give my thoughts on it." She looks back up at him, "So I told her he knew the risk of helping them."

"While in District 12, I told him we've kissed in the past. I let him know I had feelings for you." He decides to throw in, "Was shocked about it in the end."

"I'm sure he was. I always told him I did have a crush on you anymore." She laughs.

"You had a crush on me?" He steps closer to her.

"I did when we first moved here."

"Is that crush stronger now?" He leans down to her height.

"Well, whenever you kissed me I kissed you back didn't I?" She smiles so he kisses her.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[josecariohca]

.

[ningensorrow]

more on my odasaku lives and runs away with soukoku au i will eventually (never) write

dazai managed to stop oda before he could get to face gide

"if you go there you'll die" "yes I know"

"didn't you want to be a writer?!"

dazai yells, which his eyebrows furrowed, and there is a weird expression, one that stops odasaku for a second. dazai's usually inexpressive eyes are widened and there is something unfamiliar in his face

oda realizes that is hopelessness and his heart clenches

"I did," he replies.

dazai looks desperate and so terribly young as he says, "if you go there i'll have to watch you die"

and oh.

oh.

odasaku cant do that to him, can he?

he thinks about his orphans, his kids, about the explosion, about guilt, and he thinks, I can't do that to him.

odasaku says, mori wants be dead, doesn't he.

and dazai fills the gasp between them and grabs his sleeve and he looks at him with those strange, yet fitting, emotions, and he says, please, so quietly odasaku almost thinks he imagined it.

but it was real.

and so he nods.

dazai drags him (read as: attempts to, cause he is way too underweight and doesn't have the strength) and he doesn't know where he is going.

they ventur into some decaying part of the city, almost at the edge of it, until they're in front of an empty storehouse. dazai pushes them into it, closing the door behind them.

"it's a safehouse, one mori doesn't know about"

there is still something careful in his voice, a type of uncertainty that rarely is present.

swiftly, dazai walks across the room, almost completely empty except for a couch, a small, round table and a dusty carpet. there is also an oil lamp, and while dazai is grabbing something from the table, he goes to turn it on.

the light is eerie and it accentuates the pale tone of dazai's skin and the unlived state of the safehouse.

his grief has never been louder.

"all done, now we wait," dazai chippers, but his eyes are sharp. he is pocketing a phone - not the one he always has, and neither one of the mafia burners.

odasaku must have been staring, because dazai smirks, and shrugs. "precautions," he simply says, and oda nods.

"what are we waiting for?" "why, for an annoying dog to bark, of course!"

the words float above his head for a moment, before he understands their meaning.

he sighs.

he wonders if it's too late to go back and have his final duel.

if he is right, he just damned himself to a slow and painful death.

[hafwen]

Today was the first day since we lost Pumpkin someone had a nap with me

Timmy stayed with me all day and only left when I woke up from my nap!