#my last name is a polish city for fucks sake

[wikagirl]

really worried that my village is going to go down a track of racism now.

A bunch of middle eastern dudes bought an old house near the church last year.

last week they were caught stealing from other peoples gardens.

Yesterday one of them straight up threw a rock the size of your average bar of soap at the head of a girl that was just chilling on the stepts of the church (they‘re a popular hangout spot for the youth in our village) during the anniversary celebration of our volunteery firefighters. There were several eye witnesses, the girl is now in the hospital in critical condition.

My village allready has an issue with racism towards eastern folks and I feel like this is only going to make it worse because like 80% of the people here were born during or right after ww2 and don‘t really seem to understand that every culture has some bad apples and just because this guy is an absolute ass that doesn’t mean that everyone from his culture is.

The guy is most likely going to get a charge with attempted manslaughter.

[dyslexicsquirrel]

This is a super rough draft and I'm working to polish it up for AO3 but have some childhood friends who kissed (no homo) second chance romance(?) Harringrove

I haven't posted anything in forever and this idea took over my body so uh I hope you like it? If you don't? Don't tell me lmao

Now I'm thinking about childhood friends Steve and Billy who practice kissing and whatever it's totally not gay. But Steve is like imagining their life after high school together, how they're gonna go to the same college and be roommates. Maybe if they get to kiss sometimes still that would be fine.

He tells Billy about it cause they're best friends and they tell each other everything. He thought Billy was on board. He helped Steve study, made sure he graduated.

So he's a little surprised when he gets to the school and Billy's Camaro isn't there cause he was running late but Billy always did like to make an entrance. Except Steve keeps checking down their row in the stadium and Billy never shows up. Doesn't come running onto the field when they call his name.

When he goes to return the cap and gown and pick up his diploma after the ceremony, the lady at the table check's her list and tells Steve "Looks like Billy picked his up the last day of class."

There's a big hole in the middle of Steve's chest that never really quite goes away. Not through college and parties or meeting his wife and getting married. Having his kids helps a bit but it's always there, sharp and jagged just like the boy who made it.

Steve focuses on work and raising his kids and maybe that's why his marriage falls apart. His wife handed him a big Manila envelope with sadness in her eyes. "You're a great dad and there's a part of me that will always love you, but I don't think you ever loved me, Steve, and I deserve better than that. We both do."

He agreed to everything, got split custody, and moved into an apartment in the city. It was beige and empty, but he covered it with pictures of his kids and ignored the way the hole in his chest started crumbling inward, growing every morning he woke up to silence until he felt hollow.

Steve got the kids for the summer and rented an RV. They were driving to California cause the kids had never seen the Pacific, he told his ex. She shrugged and sent them all off with hugs and kisses on the forehead. If a tiny voice in the back of his head called him a liar, he ignored it.

They ate at hole in the wall diners off the highway, but Steve splurged on hotels with pools cause sue him he was too high maintenance to live without soft sheets and good shower pressure.

Somewhere in Kansas or Colorado, Steve couldn't remember where they were right then, he saw the gas gauge getting low and pulling off at the next exit to find a place to get gas.

Steve almost ran a red light when he saw the sign at the convenience store on the corner. It had his brain lighting up like fireworks, memories of a past he didn't normally let himself think about crashing against the inside of his skull like waves.

There was no way. It was just a coincidence. He made sure the kids were fine and swung into the parking lot after the light turned green. "Dad's just a little tired. We'll find a place to check in after I fill up the tank."

The gas pump was old fashioned, not a single card reader in sight, and Steve shook his head with a chuckle, before rounding up the kids and heading inside. They dumped way too many snacks on the counter when they got to the front of the line. "Can I also get $40 on pump 3?" here told the guy behind the counter who was restocking cigarettes.

Short blonde hair, wide shoulders under a worn t-shirt, jeans so tight they molded to his ass and had Steve biting the inside of his cheek because he was in public, for fuck's sake.

He had to be really hard up if he was on the verge of making a spectacle of himself over some rando in a gas station. A grunt and the guy turned, pinning Steve with the brightest blue eyes Steve had ever seen.

Ones that haunted his dreams. "Billy?" he whispered, wallet slipping out of his numb fingers.

The guy who couldn't be Billy blinked at him, except he said, "Steve."

Robbie tugged on the hem of his shirt. "Who's that, dad?"

"Dad?" Billy repeated, sounding confused and a little accusatory. And seriously, fuck him.

"Just someone I used to know." He needed to get out of there before he made a scene of a different kind by jumping over the counter and punching Billy in his stupid, perfect face. "How much do I owe you?"

Billy's frown deepened. He bagged up all of the snacks, no longer meeting Steve's eyes and said, "Don't worry about it" when he handed them over.

Nope. He was not making it that easy. *You left. You left me. Why did you leave me?* clamored to get passed his lips, but Steve refused to be that pathetic when Billy obviously hadn't cared as much as Steve. He got his wallet off the floor and slapped his credit card on the counter, handing the kids the bags to hold.

Billy rolled his eyes, the way he had whenever they were kids and Steve did something Billy thought was stupid. They stood on silence except for the chatter of his kids and the bell chiming over the door when someone else came in. Steve took his receipt without a word.

"Come on, you two, let's go." He herded the kids toward the door, determined to walk out on Billy the way the other man had walked out on him, but Steve never did have much self control.

Billy was still watching him and their eyes met when Steve looked over his shoulder. "You know a good hotel around here?"

"There's a Best Western a few blocks down. Nicest place in town."

Was he imagining the question in Billy's eyes? Steve didn't know. Grace whined, "Come on, dad," the way only teenagers could and Steve let the door swing closed behind him.

Part of Steve was anticipating the knock at the door after the sun had set and the kids were both curled up in their beds. The other part called him an idiot for still holding a torch for the guy who broke his heart.

The rap on the door was soft, but Steve still jumped, tripping over his feet when he got off the couch.

There was Billy on the other side of the door, a cigarette dangling from his lips, hands shoved into his pockets.

Mindful of his kids, Steve stepped outside, leaving the door cracked behind him, while they stared at each other, the weight of all the years between them.

Billy broke the silence first, pulling the cigarette from his mouth, ash flicked from the tip in a cascade of sparks. "Where's Mrs. Harrington?"

That was about all Steve could take. He shoved at Billy's chest, still as solid as it had been back in high school, the prick. Billy didn't budge an inch. "I got divorced last year."

Billy took a long drag, a quiet "Shit" exhaled on a cloud of smoke.

"Yeah." Steve took the cigarette from Billy like they used to. He hadn't had a drag in years and almost choked.

There was no laughter, no jibe at Steve forgetting how to smoke. Instead, one of Billy's hands rubbed circles against Steve's back. Just that one touch unlocked something in Steve, all the years of longing, of loneliness, of regret. He wrapped his free hand around Billy's waist and tucked his face into the other man's chest.

"Why?" It came out garbled and wet from his tears but Billy understood all the same.

His answer made his tears run faster. But it was okay because size Billy's arms wrapped around him, holding Steve together. "Because I loved you too much."

"You're a fucking asshole."

"I know."

"I loved you too."

"I know." Of course he had.

They stayed like that until Steve got himself back together, the cigarette left to snuff itself out on the concrete. His eyes red and puffy and Billy wiped the moisture off his cheeks with his thumbs.

Steve leaned into Billy’s calloused palms, pulling the scent of Marlboroughs and warm skin into his lungs. He sniffed loud, echoed by the crickets and the distant traffic. He needed to say something or else he’d start crying again because Billy was looking at him the way Steve always secretly dreamed Billy would look at him one day.

He wanted to know what the hell he ‘loved him too much’ to stay meant, but this thing—could he call it a thing? Robin would probably call him a dingus right about now—was too shaky, like a house built on a cliff during an earthquake.

So instead, he said, “You know I meant why’d you pick that name when I asked why, but thanks for the declaration, I guess.”

Steve felt Billy’s chuckle where their chests still touched. “Now who’s the asshole?”

And, okay, Steve really was curious because Billy had to be the one who owned that place and had the balls to slap Pretty Boy on the front of a building.

Which meant he thought about Steve and the nickname he bestowed upon him enough to name his business after him. To have to see it every day and think about Steve.

So he was curious, but not enough to stop and ask when Billy was angling Steve’s head with the hand still holding his cheek to press their lips together.

It had been decades since the last time Steve and Billy kissed and it was still the best feeling in the world. The feeling of a full beard was new, but Billy’s hands felt the same, cradling the back of Steve’s head, the other pressed low on his back.

He still tasted like cigarettes and the mint gum he liked to chew.

Steve didn’t pull away until he heard the bathroom door close inside the room and even then he didn’t go far, pressing their foreheads together so they were still sharing the same air for as long as possible.

“How long are you here for?” Billy whispered, like he was afraid if he spoke too loudly, he would shatter the moment like spun glass.

“Just until tomorrow. The kids and I are going to California for the summer.” Saying it out loud, in front of Billy, made it feel like a dirty little secret. Billy knew why Steve was going there of all places if they way one side of his mouth kicked up. Steve had missed that smirk. He’d missed a lot of things if her were being honest.

“Maybe you can swing back through on your way back.”

The hopeful note Steve heard made him feel bold, reckless. “You should come with us.”

“What?”

“To California. You should come with us. I got an RV so there’s plenty of room. We could take turns driving. Grace and Robbie are cool kids, I swear. I’m realizing now that I said that that it’s kind of weird. Forget it—” His nervous rambling was cut off by Billy’s lips.

“Shut up, pretty boy. I’ve been wanting to go to California with you my whole life.” And, oh. Well, Steve was done for. His hands curled into the fabric of Billy’s shirt, holding on for dear life, scared if he let go Billy would disappear. “Besides, I should probably get to know your rugrats before I ask their dad to marry me.”

Steve's eye went comically wide and his heart stopped and that hole in his chest felt like Billy had slapped a patch over it. He wheezed. “Huh?”

“You think I’m letting you go again, Harrington?”

That was fine with Steve.

[yeetskeetiwandelete]

Me, worldbuilding, then and now

THEN: "Fuck me, how the hell am I supposed to name cities?! I've got the words to do it, but this is an important location! The name has to be meaningful! Now I gotta make it memorable and meaningful! Fuck! How do I do that?!"

NOW: "Fuck it, you're the primary harbour city in this nation. Congradulations. I'm gonna name you Seashore. In the langauge of your nation, hm... I've only got "Mhar" for "Sea." I'm just gonna make something up for "shore." Hm... Mharlor... I like that! Right, to the next city!"

THEN: "Hm... I don't have any ideas for halflings or gnomes. I guess I got something good going for the dwarves, though. I really have to figure out something for the halflings. And gnomes. Maybe gnomes are a subspecies of halfling? Why are halflings there at all?"

NOW: "Man, getting rid of the halflings and gnomes made this so much easier. I like ancient extinct dwarves, can't do much with those losers though. I should keep getting rid of my problems."

THEN: "Huh. I really do not want barons and kings and dukes in every nation. How do I work around that? I don't really want theocracies, how am I going to logic out a democracy, do I want a republic? Hm. I don't like most of these."

NOW: "Fuck it, we're making shit up. You- (Agressively points at Ellostacia)- You get mardrakes and shit! And just you!"

THEN: "Well, shit, you're a cowgirl now! How the fuck am I going to fit a cowgirl in here?! If I have to make a whole nation out here like I did for the samurai, by God I'll do it, but for fuck's sake! How the fuck does one make the Wild West out here?!"

NOW: "So, cowboys and riders are completely different things, however the groups often overlap. On top of that, The Badlands are just badlands with praries on top. This is horrifying as is. There are not guns yet, but Badlanders are typically top-notch spellslingers

THEN: "Well, I gotta have some sort of naming system for each nation. Wait, fuck, how do they differ from our worlds'?! Goddammit, I should've seen this coming! Fuck, shit, I gotta make one for every nation, and they have to be original, and- FUCK!"

NOW: "Alright, the Irish already did that, why am I using Polish last names as first names up north, what even is the Okir naming system, why is John Artificer a possible name... Ah, fuck it. Daughter variant upon ye, I do like the -zyca to indicate gender so I'll keep that, this one's fun and that one's funny. Good enough."

THEN: "Hm. Fae are irredeemably evil. Actually, wait, there's no nuance to that. Maybe their society works differently. There has to be some sort of reason why they steal kids and trick people. They cannot simply be irredeemably evil."

NOW: "Hm. Fae are irredeemably evil. This is because I fucking hate fae and there is no reason beyond that. They're twisted little bastards who do fucked up shit for fun and that is all the justification they need."

THEN: "why is my magic system 5/8 space based"

NOW: "why did i do this to myself. now i have to think of all the implications of this." (Thinks of the implications.) "Wait this is cool actually." (I hve a bunch of random implications written in a Keeps list. This isn't a joke I literally have a Keep list dedicated to problems that may arise from my magic system.)

[discopig]

That other girl (Thomas Shelby x Reader) [Part 1/3]

This is lowkey inspired by Sevdaliza’s song “That other girl” so give it a listen, she’s really underrated. As a member of the Grace love-hate relationship club, and an angst lover, I’m going to enjoy writing this. I might give it a fluffy ending but we’ll see! This isn’t set in any specific season because I honestly enjoy kinda ignoring the original plotline of the show... whoops! This is a short intro chapter

When Grace Burgess moves to Birmingham, she’s automatically the star of the show, her gracious face and innocence capturing the hearts of those who lay their eyes on her, but you don’t buy it. Her sudden appearance and posh aura setting your intuition off, a perk you’d gained from being around Polly so much. At first you try to ignore her presence, but when your boyfriend, and long time friend - Thomas Shelby, takes a keen liking to Grace, could you ever win against that other girl? Word Count: 978

Part 2 | Part 3

It was your regular evening at the Garrison, hundreds of drunk men piled up in the bar, the sounds of laughter and yelling penetrating your eardrums. You had been working at the Garrison for over 9 years, first accepting the job as a way to make some cash as you were only 18 when you ran away from your family, and the position happened to be vacant. You never intended to stay, the fumes of the factories and dark alleys in Birmingham being a stark contrast to the posh greenery and lavish villas you grew up with, however life doesn’t always work out the way you plan.

You were now 27 and if you were being honest - you hadn’t realized just how quickly the time had flown by... Well, when you know the Shelby family, it’s almost impossible for time to not fly by. You had gotten to know the Shelby family when Harry made you deliver 6 bottles of whiskey to their offices, a task you were afraid to take on, seeing as you were no stranger to the rumours about the Shelby family, and being new to Birmingham the last thing you wanted was trouble with the gangsters who have the city in the palm of their hands.

You had worn your plain brown cotton dress - the best item you could afford with the money you received from your job, and began your journey to the betting shop, trudging along the streets of Birmingham with the box of whiskey bottles. From that day on, Harry allowed you to serve the Shelby’s and you quickly got close to all of them, but one of them had completely stolen your heart - Tommy.

You’d never expected to fall for him, until you found yourself enamored by every word he’d say during family meetings, and lay in bed at night remembering every slight glance, or acknowledgement he’d given you. It was a stupid crush, and Tommy was quite a bit older than you and most likely saw you as nothing but a silly young girl, but when he started coming to the Garrison alone, eliciting your company to rant about his issues, or joke with you about how stupid Arthur was, he found himself falling in love with you too, your untouched innocence drastically standing out from the tainted souls of Birmingham, the way your eyes crinkled up when you’d smile, your London accent peeking through when you’d talk too quickly or how a cigarette looked almost like an expensive piece of jewelry between your fingers. So your love blossomed, and you became Thomas Shelby’s girl.

You had just delivered a bucket of beer to a table in the corner of the Garrison and were heading back to the bar, when all of a sudden you found yourself laying on the floor, the pain from your ankle hissing through your body

“Oh for fucks sake!” you exclaimed. Harry rushed over after seeing your condition - him having become an almost father like figure to you over the years.

“Are you alright Y/N?” he asked, concern beaming from his eyes

“I think I’ve sprained my bloody ankle or somethin’, it hurts like ‘ell”

Harry shook his head and offered to pick you up, you reached out to him and he took you to a taxi outside the Garrison

“Clyde, you’re gonna have to carry her up to her apartment” he said to the young taxi driver, who simply nodded in response

“You don’t need to come in, make sure you get your ankle fixed alright? Call a doctor or somethin’” 

“I will Harry, don’t worry ‘bout me, I’ll be back before you know it” you smiled at him, always being able to maintain your high spirits.

It had been two weeks since you’d been to work, your ankle was now in fairly good condition, however you still needed to be careful. Tommy had visited you almost every day, despite him being obviously tired, John had also visited a lot, always cracking jokes and making your tiny apartment smell like expensive cigars.

You’re wearing a green apron-style cotton dress with a white cardigan and some white flats - heels no longer a possible choice for the time being - your hair pinned back in a low bun, with a few loose strands at the front. You aren’t going into work today, you’re simply going to visit as you miss Harry and the bustle of the bar.

The bar isn’t as busy as usual as it’s only 2 PM. When you walk in you find Harry behind the bar, polishing some of the shot glasses, he beams when he sees you

“Y/N! I see your ankle is doing better”

“It is Harry, sadly I can’t work yet or Dr. Prew will kill me, but I’m just happy to leave my apartment for once! How have things been without me? Hope you’re not suffering too much eh?”

“Oh no no, thinks have been quite smooth with the new barmaid” he replied

“New barmaid?” you questioned

“Yeah, her name is Grace. Didn’t Tommy mention her? He’s been here almost everyday, she usually serves them and tends the bar”

“No... he never mentioned a new barmaid. Well, I’m happy you’ve had help while I’ve been gone, hopefully I’ll get to meet said Grace soon” 

You tried to sound enthusiastic, but not only were the thoughts of reasons as to why Tommy would refrain from telling you about your new colleague plaguing your mind, you also weren’t too happy about having to share the bar with someone else aside from Harry. You had gotten used to it and felt as though she might ruin your flow, and take away your usual tips.

Your deep thought is suddenly interrupted by the sound of the Garrison door slamming shut

“I’m back with the new glasses” A female voice exclaimed. You turned to the direction of the voice and felt your spirit bury itself six feet underground

Shit chapter but oh well... It’s 2 AM and I’m exhausted ❤

[omg-imagine]

Distraction

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand x female!V

Summary: Johnny distracts V the best way he knows how.

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: language, smut (oral + rough sex, choking)

A/N: Please don’t mind the weak plot, this was just an excuse to write p*rn featuring the only character I want to romance in the game but can’t. Also, for the sake of this fic, let’s just say he can touch V and vice versa :)) Hope you enjoy!

V was pissed.

No, she was beyond pissed.

And when V’s beyond pissed, she’s sure to let the whole fucking world know.

“Tone it down, princess,” Johnny cuts in once he’s heard enough of her long-winded rant.

V stops her relentless pacing around the apartment and shoots a menacing glare towards the rocker.

“I warned you not to take that job from the start. Now, look at you, bruised up from head to toe, and cheated out of your eddies.”

“That son of a bitch promised me half the cut,” V recalls bitterly, her chest heaving from the fierce anger spreading all throughout. “I’m gonna make sure Cruz regrets asking me for help.”

The merc stalks off to her stash, muttering low under her breath how she plans on raising hell the next time she crosses paths with him. As V polishes her guns (something she typically does to calm herself), Johnny approaches the small room to the side with the same cocky attitude that would surely piss her off even more.

He can’t help himself at times; he sure does love pushing V’s buttons.

“You done whining or what?”

Rolling her eyes, V turns her head to see Johnny standing there as he takes a drag on his cigarette. Normally, she doesn’t mind him smoking around her, but after an exhausting night where things didn’t work out in her favor, she was quickly reaching her boiling point. “You better clean up all that ash on the floor when you’re done.”

“Since when did you start caring about this shithole of an apartment being neat?” Johnny comments, more so as a tease, and this earns him another scowl. “Don’t waste your energy on Cruz. He’ll get what’s coming to him.”

“Didn’t know you believed in karma,” V adds, narrowing her eyes.

Devilishly, he smirks at her, tossing the cigarette butt to the floor then crushing it with his shoe. “Hon, there’s a lot of things you still don’t know about me.”

“Yeah,” she agrees before brushing past Johnny. “I’m heading out.”

His figure glitches momentarily, reminding V that he was nothing but a ghost residing in her mind, despite how real he feels. Even if she wants to leave this “shithole of an apartment” for some semblance of peace and quiet, she knows Johnny will only follow. He’s tethered to her for what could possibly be the rest of her life.

And yet, no matter how big of an asshole Silverhand was, she’s grown fond of his presence.

Not that she would mention it out loud. Ever.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Out,” V simply states, wondering what the point in Johnny asking her that question when he could easily find it out for himself was.

It’s truly unfair how he can read her thoughts, but she can’t read any of his.

He chuckles low. “Gon’ pay a joy toy to fuck tonight?”

“No, I’m going out for a drive, distract myself from that shitshow earlier. You better leave me alone.”

“Well, I’m a little insulted,” Johnny snorts, feigning offense. “I thought you liked my company.”

“I’m tired of your company. You never shut that mouth of yours.”

Before V could head to the door, she feels a metal hand encircling her wrist, holding her in place. She glances behind her, meeting Johnny’s deep, dark eyes, which hid a multitude of secrets. It’s been a while since she has felt a touch that wasn’t full of malice. Though his palm is cold from the material it’s made out of, a distinct heat spreads through her body—

It was a familiar warmth, one that radiates from V at his mere touch.

And when Johnny’s lips curl into a shit-eating grin, she knows that he has sensed it too.

“Shut my mouth? I think I can do something else much better than that.”

Johnny’s gravelly voice fuels the desire burning deep within V as he pulls her closer, her feet moving at their own accord. “God, I wish you came with an off-switch.”

“Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying this little game we’ve been playing.”

V doesn’t respond, her pulse quickening with anticipation. She lets out a shuddering moan when Johnny leans in, his hot breath grazing her silky skin before his lips crash against hers, possessively. He floods V’s senses all at once as he hungrily kisses her, letting him take the reins.

It would be a lie for V to say she’s never pictured a moment like this. A moment where she finally succumbs to Johnny’s charm and allows him to lay claim on her. It’s always been a constant dance between the two, a chemistry disguised as indifference, a craving left unspoken. Amidst the degrading insults and the snarky attitudes, deep down, they have always wanted the same thing—

To fuck each other’s brains out.

“Still tired of my company, V?”

“Just shut the fuck up for once and take off your pants.”

The grin on his face hasn’t disappeared. It only grows broader. “Ask, and you shall receive.”

Johnny roughly grabs V at the waist, his fingers curling underneath the hem of her shirt as he pushes her towards the bed. His mouth latches onto her neck, no doubt marking her for all of Night City to see.

They fell onto the mattress without finesse, similar to how V kisses Johnny feverishly, all tongue and teeth. Void of tenderness and only driven by the urgency of lust. She was too distracted by her want to care for the taste of tobacco from his last smoke. The hands traveling every inch of V’s frame lights up a fire in her, bringing a high that no drug on the black market could ever do.

Surprisingly, Johnny allows her to take the lead for a bit when she straddles him, his hardening cock pressing up against her aching cunt. She gages his reaction as she grinds on his clothed erection, a wicked smile forming to the sight of him being teased.

“You like that, huh? Fuck, I can’t wait to have you inside of me.” She feels herself growing wetter and wetter, losing patience just as swiftly as the man under her.

Without warning, Johnny flips them both over, the length of his body now pressed against hers from above. He wastes no time peeling V’s shirt and bra off, pausing for the briefest of seconds to admire her bare breasts. His cybernetic hand squeezes one soft mound as his lips descend on the other. She moans, and they were pure music to his ears, sounds that were so beautiful he could write endless songs about them.

“J-Johnny,” V stutters out his name, unable to contain herself anymore. She doesn’t remember the last time someone has quickly reduced her into a mess, and desperately she wanted, needed more.

The way his name trembles from her mouth drives Johnny into a frenzy, simpering at the fact he really hasn’t done much yet, but it was enough to leave V quivering. She looks too sinful beneath Johnny, too delectable. He’s well-aware of how long she’s gone without sex, and he’s now bent on ending that sad streak of hers.

Hastily, Johnny removes V’s pants and underwear in one quick go, his gaze devouring her beauty like a starved man staring at his meal. “Wow, you’re fucking drenched down there.”

“Fuck,” she gasps, one hand reaching forward to grip at his lengthy locks as soon as he delves in to taste her dripping nectar for the first time.

“You enjoying yourself there, baby?” Johnny’s inquiry needs no response. He could already tell she is solely by the way her eyes flutter shut, her head lolling to the side.

One lick. Two licks. Three. He surely knew how to work that deft tongue of his.

Johnny’s cock continues to throb in the confines of his trousers as his lips encircle V’s swollen bud, but he doesn’t end there. She wants more, and he’s willing to give her just that.

More.

V squirms when two chrome fingers enter her heat, stretching out her walls to prepare her for the serious pounding coming up. She’s lost in the sensations, unable to form a coherent thought or word. Johnny’s tempo was slow at first; tantalizing, nearly torturous. But once he starts moving faster, pumping even harder and reaching that sweet, sweet spot of hers, she begins to pant wildly as she fucks herself on his hand to get more friction.

“Holy shit, you’re a goddess,” he croaks after pulling back to study the needy woman looking back at him through half-lidded eyes. V is tight around his fingers, and he could only imagine how it would be like with his cock buried deep inside her instead.

Each rough stroke of Johnny’s digits against her wet walls brought V closer and closer to the brink of orgasm, her moans increasing in both volume and frequency. He urges her to let go, whispering into her ear how he wants to see and feel her coming. The gruffness in his tone turned her on even more, and V soon finds herself falling over the precipice, flushing hot with euphoria as Johnny watches, awestruck.

Satisfied, he beams at his work, which was only half of what he intends to do this evening. Being gracious, Johnny gives V an ample minute to recover, using the downtime to wipe the glistening wetness coating his beard before tasting the juices he’s collected.

Delicious, he thinks. She tastes as good as she looks.

V eventually comes back to her senses, propping herself up on her elbows as she gazes at Johnny with an almost dazed expression. “Perhaps the rumors are actually true.”

“Which one?” Silverhand asks, ridding himself of his clothes at the foot of her bed.

V pauses prior to answering, the sound of metal clinking filling the air as he unbuckles his belt, stripping off his leather pants afterwards.

“That you’re the best pussy eater in town,” she then reveals, glancing up briefly to see the smug look on his face before her gaze falls to his groin again.

Of course, Johnny chooses to go commando, and no, she wasn’t shocked at all.  

Silently, she marvels at the dick nestled in a thick bush of dark hair. Girthy and long with a slight curve upwards, the thought of it being inside her, barely fitting, made her mouth water. He wasn’t lying when he casually mentioned having an impressive cock.

It definitely did not disappoint.

“Oh sweetheart, that was nothing,” Johnny declares before climbing back on top of V, settling in between her legs. “The main act is just beginning.”

She doesn’t wait for Johnny to kiss her. In an instant, V’s lips were on his, her tongue pushing into his mouth, faintly tasting herself at the same time. Meanwhile, Johnny grips the base of his leaking cock, rubbing its engorged head against her slick folds that had her breathing heavily. V cants her hips impatiently, and through their kiss, he chuckles at her eagerness.

“So desperate for my cock, aren’t you?” Johnny husks mockingly. “How badly do you want me, slut? I wanna hear you say it.”

A moan escapes her throat at his words as he rubs his tip against her clit. V wants him so, so bad that she’s begging incessantly, something she never does in any of her past fucks. Usually, she was in complete control, never the one to relinquish her power.

Maybe that was the reason why V was utterly drunk with pleasure from this steamy session with Johnny. It’s good not to be in control for once.

“Shit, Johnny. Please, just fuck me already. Fill me up,” V pleads, now helpless at this point. She has to come again, this time around his cock. She repeats her keening over and over again, hoping that it was enough to feed into Johnny’s ego and finally show her mercy.

“Well, since you asked so nicely…”

Tugging at his cock, Johnny forces V’s legs to spread wider as she waits for him, mesmerized. Her pussy was soaked from his ministrations, but when he starts pushing into V, the burning stretch of her walls trying to accommodate his thick length leaves her in tears.

Those tears, however, weren’t entirely from the pain. V was also shedding tears because of how full Johnny makes her feel.

“Fucking hell, V,” he groans as she clamps down on him. “You’re so fucking tight. Damn, why didn’t we do this sooner?”

“We were too busy pretending to hate each other,” V replies, digging her nails into Johnny’s back when he begins to move.

His thrusts are slow but rough— as if he’s getting accustomed to the wondrous feeling of being inside of V. It doesn’t last long, though. Johnny has always been a hard and fast kind of guy, the one that does two or three more rounds before passing out. He’s bragged about his amazing stamina as well, and despite V believing she could match it, she probably won’t be able to tonight.

Not when he’s fucking her into the mattress like this for their very first time together.

Johnny’s brutal pace doesn’t falter. He pounds into V harder, faster, rougher; as if his life depends on it, the obscene sounds of flesh slapping against flesh bouncing off every corner of the room. His slick pre-come mixes with her honeyed essence, allowing him to seamlessly reach the depths of her center. Sweat drips down the side of his face as he maneuvers his mechanical hand to wrap around V’s delicate neck, adding pressure when she doesn’t resist.

“That’s it, baby,” Johnny growls next to her ear, rolling his hips as he squeezes her throat tighter. “You’re making me feel so good. I’ve always known you were a dirty whore.”

V’s gasping and thrashing, but she doesn’t want him to stop. She loves the rush of blood through her head far too much, especially with Johnny slamming harshly into her. It gives her a thrill she has never experienced with anyone else. Pretty sure he’s ruining her for others.

But whether this was part of his intentions or not, V doesn’t know. Nor she cares enough to figure it out.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me, V. Look at you, taking all of my cock like the fucking slut you are. You’ve wanted this for a while, haven’t you? You practically dream about me every night, and don’t you deny it.”

She doesn’t. Johnny was right, though it doesn’t really matter at this very second. His hold on V loosens for her to speak, and she inhales as much air her lungs could possibly take. She could feel it again, the ultimate high she’s been chasing once more. Johnny’s shaft dragging against her pulsing walls brings her even closer to it, building up the pleasure rising in the pit of her stomach.

“I-I’m close,” V warns, the pressure inside her threatening to break free. “Shit, Johnny, I’m gonna come soon.”

Johnny’s hips jerked harder, causing V to cry out. “Yeah? You’re gonna come? Don’t worry, I’m gonna make sure you come on my cock.”

Halting, he drapes her left leg over his shoulder, allowing him to slide in deeper than he has before. Johnny then pushes his metallic thumb into V’s mouth, and without prompt, she swirls her tongue around it, coating it with her saliva. Not missing a beat, his movement resumes, all bruising and all punishing. He brings his wetted finger on her sensitive pearl, stroking it as if he’s playing his guitar on stage.

The change in angle proves to be the final straw for V, who’s litany of high-pitch moans spurs Johnny to fuck her even more forcefully. Again and again, she takes everything he gives her, and in turn, she encourages him to follow her into the abyss. Her pussy caresses his cock with every frantic push and pull, and she notices how he’s gradually picking up speed, losing his rhythm in the process.

“Your cunt belongs to mine now,” Johnny mutters, gritting his teeth, and it’s becoming clear to V that he’s holding back just for her. “Come on, V. Let go, let go for me.”

Lust-blown eyes lock with V’s own, wordlessly urging her one last time to come undone. Several sharp thrusts later, she finds herself clenching around Johnny’s cock, her orgasm shooting through her like a rain of bullets. Unabashedly, V shouts as her vision whitens, intense waves of ecstasy washing over her shaking body. She’s too absorbed in bliss to realize right away that Johnny was still in her, dick hard and ready for a similar release.

Once she finds her bearings, V grinds her hips against Johnny’s, and immediately, his nails dig into her as he begins to move inside her yet again.

“Don’t stop, Johnny,” she purrs, watching him fuck her with both fast and long strokes. “I want you to cum deep inside me, baby. Shit, I want it so badly. Please, give it to me. Please…”

With a strained moan, Johnny suddenly climaxes, snarling as he shoots searing ropes of his thick, creamy cum into V, painting her inner walls with white. His features contort with pleasure as he throws his head back, his breathing shallow and ragged. When his heart rate returns somewhat back to normal, he slowly pulls his softening cock out, smirking at the sight of his load dripping out of her.

Afterwards, he flops down beside V with a huff, joining her as she stares blankly up at the ceiling. Johnny clears his throat as he shifts closer to V, who instinctively rests her head on his chest. His cyber arm curls around her, and she sighs deeply, seemingly content.

“How about that for a fucking distraction?” He says, recalling how the two of them got here in the place. “Don’t even have to go on a ride to clear your mind. Feel free to ride me instead.”

V laughs at his jest. “It was a great fuck, the best one I’ve ever had if I’m honest. But I’m still going after Cruz.”

Johnny hums in response, seeing V’s weary eyes growing heavier. “Fine, but just to let you know, what happened between us isn’t a one-time thing.”

“Fuck, I hope not. You’re stuck with me till the end of the world, buddy.”

“It’s a good thing you have an amazing pussy then.”

V smacks him lightly as exhaustion begins to take over. Sure, she was still pissed she didn’t get her eddies, but at least now she knows the prick named Johnny Silverhand was surprisingly a cuddler.

And that piece of information was worth gold.

Permanent Tags:   @penwieldingdreamer @keandrews @feminine-machinegun @fanficsrusz @thehumanistsdiary @flaminasteroid @rowserein​ @unaspiringwritings​ @planetkt​ @breakthenight​ @baphometwolf666 @rdjloverxxx

[watchmegetobsessed]

Our song - Harry Styles

this one was inspired by the jingleball performance bc it was pure perfection and UGHH im obsessed.

dedicated to my dear friend @dontworrysunflower

disclaimer: the song Homesick by Dua Lipa is featured in this fic as an original work of Harry and the reader, but it’s obviously an existing song, I just thought that it would be the song they write

pairing: Harry x vocalist!reader

word count: 5.3k

masterlist

You’ve felt the adrenaline rush take over your body many times in your life and they were all different in some kind of way. The one you felt when you were about to write an important test in school, the one that bubbled through your veins when you got your first kiss. The one that rolled through your limbs and chest when you first performed in front of people that weren’t your parents and the one you felt when you got the news that you were chosen to tour with none other than Harry Styles as his vocalist, singing on his stage every other night in a different city and different country.

But none of those were anything like the feeling that takes over every time you stand on that stage, your microphone that’s labelled with your name right in front of you as thousands of people are screaming in the jam-packed arena. Though it’s not you they come to see and listen to, but you are part of the magic and it’s quite enough for you.

You could never be the one standing at the front with all the lights shining down on your frame, having every gaze in the place glued to you, listening to your voice. That brings the kind of anxiety you’re quite sure you wouldn’t be able to handle. You are perfectly fine standing in the back, being the support system while staying on the down-low as someone else shines at the front, in your case, it’s Harry.

You applied for the job with a reason, already having a huge appreciation for him as an artist, adoring his work so far, especially Fine Line. Upon hearing about the opportunity to be part of his tour, you didn’t hesitate to send your application in and following three auditions, you got the phone call that they wanted you on board.

He swept you right off your feet the first time you met him, but you didn’t expect less from him. Everything you heard about him being the most wonderful person to every walk the planet were proven to be nothing but the truth. You hit it off so easily and become close through the process of rehearsals. His odd little jokes, that funny laugh of his and the way he always peeks over his shoulder to meet his eyes with yours made you fall for him faster than you’d have ever thought you could.

Just as fast as your feeling for Harry developed, tour caught up on you and before you could blink twice, you were living on the road, always dressing from your suitcase, waking up in a different city every other morning.

The foreign studio feels a little odd, but still somehow familiar as you walk in with your water and notebook under your arm. Random studio sessions with Harry became a regular not long after tour kicked off. Harry’s creative juices were overflowing and he was aching to record his creations, constantly renting random studios near the hotel you lot were staying currently and one night, when some of you all were hanging out in his suit, he asked if you’d be down helping him record vocals for a song he’s been working on.

“I want to hear it with your voice instead of mine,” he told you leaning against the wall, a glass of whatever Mitch mixed him in his hands.

“Getting bored of your own voice?” you teased him, bringing his dimples out with the smile that plastered across his lips.

“Could say that. Are you up for it?”

There was no way you would have said no. So the next morning you found yourself in a studio somewhere in Sacramento, singing the vocals to a song no one else has heard other than you and Harry.

The tour has now reached Denver, you can’t wait to be on the stage tonight, but before that, you are having another quick session with Harry in the studio.

When you walk in, his head perks up from his leather notebook he always keeps on himself, filled with his scribbled lyrics. A smile stretches across his lips when his green eyes fall on your frame.

“Hey! Hope it’s not too early for you,” he softly says standing up from the chair as you put your stuff down to the small table in the corner.

“No, managed to get a good night sleep still,” you smile at him, taking a quick look around, though this recording room is just like the others you’ve been in.

“I think I figured out that part we struggled with last time. Changed up the ending a bit, would you mind giving it another go?”

You nod looking down at his notes, seeing the changes he has made in the vocals.

“Changed anything else?” you ask as you watch him get ready for the recording.

“Yeah, rewrote a few lines, think they are fitting better now.”

“Have you recorded them yet?”

“Will do now,” he tells you shaking his head.

Soon enough you find yourself standing behind the mic, headset covering your ears as you are waiting for Harry to start recording and the music to play in your ears. Once he shows up his thumb you do the same and a moment later the song you’ve heard last time you two were working starts flowing from the headset and you stare down at the notes in front of you, waiting for the moment when you have to start singing.

It takes you a few runs to nail it down, but when you finally do, you can see the satisfied grin on Harry’s face and you think to yourself that there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to make him like this anytime.

“That was fantastic,” he beams once you join him at the screens where you see your voice appear as a pattern over a straight line. Harry does his usual magic before leaving it be. “Mind assisting recording my part?” he asks turning to you with an excited smile.

Nodding you let him tell you what to do and once he is all set behind the mic, you start the recording and the song. You listen to him in awe. There hasn’t been a moment when you didn’t feel the shiver running down your spine when he started singing. You are convinced a choir of angels is hidden in his throat, because it’s hard to believe he is just as human as everyone else.

He sings the whole song three times before he joins you again, listening back to what you have so far. The song is coming along pretty well and you can tell by the time he finishes it, it’s gonna be perfect. Everything he does is just pure perfection, whether he likes to admit it or not.

“You know how it would be absolutely perfect?” he asks you on your way back to the hotel. The two of you grabbed a coffee as well, so now you’re sipping on the hot drink, enjoying the somewhat sunny weather.

“Hm?”

“I think it would be best if a female voice sang the whole thing and the male was just the vocal.”

“Who do you think would fit best for it then?” you ask, immediately thinking of singers that could be perfect for the song. It wouldn’t be the first time Harry would sell a song to someone else, so you’re not surprised he is thinking about this kind of change.

“Y/N, I found the voice already,” he chuckles and you give him a puzzled look. “You. You are singing the song, I don’t need anyone else.”

“I’m not a solo singer,” you protest.

“There’s no such thing as solo or not solo. You’re a singer and a bloody good one. I want you to sing it.”

“But it would go to waste, because I would never actually perform it.”

“How are you so sure about that?” he smirks slyly at you, immediately making you nervous.

“Harry, I don’t sing solo,” you shake your head stubbornly, but he rolls his eyes at you.

“You could just try it. Let’s just record the song next time with you in the lead and then we can talk about the rest.”

“I’m fine recording, but I will never perform it,” you tell him, but his look makes you think he has other plans.

When tour reaches Dallas, the song gets a version with you singing solo and Harry doing the vocals in it. And though you had doubts about the switch, listening back to it you can tell how much it helped. It really is better with a female voice, though you are still convinced it shouldn’t be you.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sell it to someone? I’m fine with that,” you ask him before the show in Dallas. You’re sitting on the table in his dressing room while he is painting his nails, his tongue poking out in concentration.

“I told you, I like it with your voice. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because I’m not a—“

“Fuck’s sake if you dare to tell me one more time that you’re not a solo singer, I’m firing you, Y/N!” he snaps, giving you a hard look, but you just laugh at his temper.

“It’s the truth.”

“Have you ever tried to go solo?”

“Not for years,” you admit and watch him screw the nail polish closed, pushing it aside, his hands lying flat on the table as he is carefully waiting for them to dry.

“So then how do you know you are no good at it?”

“Because I hated it back then, so I most likely would hate it now as well,” you state matter-of-factly, but Harry doesn’t seem amused by your answer.

“So you think you haven’t changed a bit in years? I hope you know that’s absolute bollocks.”

“Why are you so keen on making me sing solo?” you sigh, giving him a tired look. It feels like the two of you have been running the same circles since forever. It’s not his first attempt to get you sing more than just the vocals, he once wanted to do a cover and needed a partner because it was a duet and begged you for weeks to sing with him, but you didn’t give in. You just couldn’t.

“Because I think that you are a talented singer and I want you to feel the adrenaline rush performing gives you.”

“I do get that rush every time I sing behind you. That’s enough for me.”

Harry shakes his head pressing his lips tight together.

“That’s not the same as being in the lead. It’s a whole different world.”

“Yeah, one that makes me shit my pants,” you chuckle and he can’t push a smile back.

“Maybe we should just work on it. Your anxiety. I think we could actually make you feel better if we tried.”

“I still don’t know where this obsession with me being solo comes for you.”

Harry stands up, takes one last look at his nails before he steps closer smiling down at you softly and you bite into your bottom lip, realizing how close he is standing to you. His fingers tap in your cheek gently, running them down to your chin as he tilts your head up a bit.

“Just accept it, Love,” he smiles softly before stepping away and carrying on with his routine.

That evening, you stand at the back with the other two vocalists, eyes glued to Harry’s figure at the front of the stage, you watch him pour his soul out to the audience, interact with them and reach that state of mind you have never been able to get into. You know what he told you about performing is true, yet you are still terrified to do it yourself. It’s too nerve wrecking to have everyone look at and listen to you, so many chances to mess it up and make a fool out of yourself.

But when Harry’s eyes meet yours and he shoots you a warm smile, something shifts in you. The urge to have this connection with not just the audience and the song, but with him takes over your whole body and you make up your mind to at least give it a try.

Harry is ecstatic when you tell him later that night that you changed your mind. You see that sparkle in his eyes and it was already worth for you, just seeing him react like that.

“Though I have a few suggestions to change the lyrics.”

“You do?” he asks, seemingly surprised, but mostly amused that you had the balls to come out with it.

“Yeah. Just some tiny details.”

“Why haven’t you told me about these before?”

“Because it was your song. But if you want me to sing it, it has to be mine as well.” Harry stares back at you with a smile that’s filled with pride and joy, making your heart flutter in your aching chest as you think about performing solo.

“Our song,” he softly says nodding his head.

Arriving to Houston the two of you are quick to book a studio and work on the song. Harry lets you make any changes you desire on the lyrics, even says you did justice to it and that you should have spoken up earlier about your ideas. And then you record it.

It’s not that you have to sing the whole song and not just the vocals this time. You are completely fine with Harry hearing you sing, it’s the thought of performing it in front of anyone that’s not him, that’s what makes you turn into a wreck.

You record Harry’s vocals and once it’s all put together, you are blown by the outcome. You wouldn’t have thought Harry’s voice as the vocal would compliment you in the lead, but it’s just absolutely perfect and even you can’t find anything wrong with it.

“Love, this is what Heaven sounds like, I’m telling you,” he smirks at you from the chair beside you, playing the song for the tenth time, not able to get enough of the final product.

“You are so cheesy,” you shake your head, but feel the blush heating up your cheeks. His eyes linger on you a little longer before he turns back to the screen.

When the song is over he finally stops is so silence comes over the studio. Harry turns back to face you, his green eyes basically burning a hole into your head.

“So, when are we going to perform it?”

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea,” you sigh looking down at your hands fumbling with your shirt.

“And I do think it is. So I’m not stopping until you at least try it.”

Harry Styles gets what he wants. Always. And this time, no matter how hard you try to resist him, you just can’t deny this from him. Though it takes him time to talk you up, in Washington he finally gets you to give it a try in an empty stadium.

Most of the crew is out, since the building has been finished about half an hour before, so everything is perfectly set for tonight’s show when you walk out to the stage, following Harry in his heels. He asked the piano to be brought to the front along with a mic on it and another one on a stand next to it. The two of you quietly put on your earpieces, doing everything as if it was a usual occasion before a concert, only that this time the roles will be entirely switched.

“It’s fine, alright? No one is around,” he tells you when he sees how nervous you are to sing the song for the first time outside a studio.

“There are some backstage,” you mumble under your breath, not expecting him to do anything about it.

But he does. You watch him walk backstage, completely dumbfounded about what he is doing. He disappears from your sight and a few moments later you hear him shouting at the back.

“No one comes to the stage until I say so! Yea? Thanks!” he orders and then walks back as if he didn’t just boss around the whole crew.

“They will think you’re some kind of crazy celebrity,” you chuckle when he returns, a small smirk playing on his pink lips.

“Don’t care, Darling. Now sing you heart out for me.”

Harry sits on the piano bench, his fingers getting settled on the keys before he looks up to meet your anxious eyes.

“It’s alright. Just you and me, yea?”

Nodding you gulp hard and jump a little when he starts playing the melody the two of you have been working on for so long. You hear all the notes and you know you have to start singing, but you miss the opening. Harry stops and looks at you, as you move your eyes down to the ground, ashamed you messed up immediately.

“S-Sorry, I just—“

“How can I help?” he asks right away, not even caring about the fact that you messed up, focused on figuring out a way that would help you.

“I don’t know. I really don’t,” you sigh, feeling your nerves getting worse with each passing moment.

“Come sit next to me,” he then tells you motioning for you to join him on the bench.

“What?”

“Take your mic and sit next to me,” he repeats, scooting over to make you space. Hesitantly, you pull the mic out of the stand and walking over you sit next to him. “Now you are not in the center. Just listen to the music, watch my hands on the keys, okay?”

You nod, running your tongue over your dry lips as you hold the mic to your mouth before Harry starts playing again.

After the first few notes you close your eyes and when it’s time for you to start singing, Harry leans a little against you, giving you a kind of push to just do it. And it works.

It feels a little as if it’s not even you who starts singing, but it is. Your voice fills the empty arena along with the piano’s melody and keeping your eyes closed a little longer you let your mind settle. When the first verse ends you open them and watch his hands work on the keys, right as he starts singing the vocals, leaning a little forward so his voice reaches his mic.

It’s different. It’s electric and freeing, hear your voice through the massive speakers, to be in the lead and have Harry be just the support in the song. But it feels so right, better than anything you’ve ever felt.

Line after line, you hit all the notes and by the end of the song you are able to strip all your fears down and give yourself over to the music completely. As you sing the last few notes you feel Harry’s eyes on you and turning to face him, you are met with his warm, pride-filled smile and bright eyes, glued to you while his fingers press down the last notes.

The music dies down, the voice of the piano vibrates in the air a little longer until it completely disappears and the silence returns into the stadium.

“Love,” Harry quietly calls out for you and you turn completely towards him. “That was absolutely perfect.”

“You think so?” you ask, voice barely more than just a whisper, your eyes never leaving his gaze.

“I know so,” he huffs, smile widening. He brings an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into a hug, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead as you let out a breath you’ve been holding in for way too long.

He doesn’t try to make you perform that evening, knowing well it was enough for one day, but he does make you sing it with him in each city in the upcoming weeks. Before every concert, he empties out the area around the stage and the two of you sit down at the piano, singing your song until you feel comfortable enough to stand next to the instrument instead of sitting next to him.

The tour reaches New York and Madison Square Garden is getting ready to host Harry Styles for two evenings. The place is massive and you find yourself sitting at the edge of the stage when Harry emerges from backstage.

“Looks wild, right?” he asks sitting next to you, his thigh brushing against yours as he gets seated.

“Yeah. Pretty amazing.”

“This place has the most magical vibe.” “Yeah?” Turning to him you watch him take the arena in, his eyes glistening at the sight in front of him. You know it’s not his first time performing here, but it’s nice to see the excitement in his eyes regardless.

That feeling returns to your chest, the one you felt when Harry told you he wanted you to sing the song. The urge to be part of this amazing something that’s so much bigger than you.

“H?”

“Yea?” he turns to you smiling.

“Can I… Do you think we could sing our song tonight?”

You watch the pure surprise and excitement wash over his face, his smile stretching across his face as he stares back at you in awe.

“You want to sing it?”

Shyly, you nod your head and in a heartbeat his arms lock around you, pulling you into the tightest hug. The two of you almost fall off the stage, laughing together at his dramatic reaction.

“Of course we can sing it, Love. Would be an honor!”

Harry is quick to let the band know about the addition for tonight’s set and though everyone seems surprised, they are all supportive about your solo. As the time goes and the concert gets closer, you can feel the nerves building up and soon enough, you start to doubt your choice to sing the song tonight.

Right before it’s time to go on stage Harry takes your hand and pulls you aside, taking your face in his hands gently, making you look into his eyes.

“I know you are doubting yourself, but just know that I’m very proud of you, even if you decide to not sing the last minute.”

“I could do that?” you whisper, your hands finding his sides and you let them rest on him, a way to ground yourself in the windwhirl of your thoughts.

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to make you do something you don’t really want. Though I know you will be amazing if you choose to sing.”

Nodding you let a weak smile appear on your lips and you notice as his eyes flicker down to them before he moves his gaze up to your eyes. He then pulls you into a proper hug before walking back to the rest of the band and vocalists.

Everything goes as usual and once again, you can’t take your eyes off Harry on the stage. Just watching him perform fills you up with life, enough to keep you from running away. About halfway into the set, as the crowd is still cheering after the previous song, Harry jogs over to you.

“You ready?” he asks over the noise and before you could think about it, you nod your head.

Two guys from the crew pushes the piano further to the front and they help to set everything up as you awkwardly stand at the side. Once your mic is in the stand you walk over there, heart hammering in your chest, hands shaking like crazy.

“I have a special song for you tonight,” Harry announces into the microphone as he makes his way over to the piano. “Please welcome the lovely Y/N here, who is gonna enchant you with a song we’ve been working on lately.”

The crowd screams and you allow yourself to look around with a weak smile. So many people, you think to yourself, everyone watching you.

“It’s called Homesick, and it means so much to us, so we hope you’ll like it Justas much as we do,” Harry adds before settling on the bench and his eyes find yours. “I’m proud of you,” you see him say, only able to read his lips since the crowd is screaming so loud. “Ready?” he asks and you nod, taking a shaky breath.

He sends you a warm comforting smile before glancing down at the keys and then he starts playing. 

Just like the first time, you close your eyes, forcing yourself to focus on the melody and nothing else. The lump in your throat is quite uncomfortable, but you open your eyes and see that Harry is looking straight at you, nodding in encouragement, as his fingers push down the keys to the notes right before you have to start.

“Here, where the sky’s falling, I’m covered in blue, I’m running and I’m crawling, fighting for you…”

Harry smiles wide when your voice flows through the speakers, filling the whole place, making everyone go quiet in a heartbeat as the song carries on. You feel your chest slowly deflating, the nerves cooling down with each sung note.

“You give me a reason, something to believe in, I know, I know, I know. You give me a meaning, something I can breathe in, I know, I know, I know…”

The chorus comes out perfect, your voice melting together with the piano and you finally feel your muscles relax as you slowly let go of every toxic thought that’s been tainting your mind. Harry leans closer to his microphone and his voice gently joins yours in the next verse.

“There’s a crack in my window, a bird in my room, angels all over that watch over you…”

Chills run down your spine hearing his voice, your eyes never leaving his gaze that’s fixated on your standing figure. You get lost in him and the song, something that came from the both of you, a piece of you and him. Standing there, singing this piece makes you feel closer to him than ever and you desperately want this feeling to last forever, hoping the song never ends though you know it’s gonna happen.

“When I’m walking on water all my dreams have come true. Still nothing means nothing without you…”

Homesick is exactly the feeling that bubbles inside you when you think of Harry. Because there’s this man you love so much, who is a home away from home to you, yet you still feel like you can’t be home entirely. Not in the way you’d want to. But standing on the stage in the spotlight, singing together with him as thousands of people are watching the two of you, yet you still manage to forget about them, for a moment, you feel like you finally arrived home. You are there, with him.

“Tell my heart to lie, but I know deep inside it’s true. That I wish I was there with you. That I wish I was there with you, oh I wish I was there with you.”

He plays the end of the song without tearing his eyes away from you, and there’s just a heartbeat of silence before the crowd starts screaming deafeningly, but that short moment… is yours and his.

Tugging your hair behind your ears with your shaky hands, your eardrums on the verge of breaking as you let out a laugh that was kind of a sob as well, relief washing over your body. Harry is quick to jump to his feet and rushing over he envelopes you in a tight hug.

“I’m so so so proud of you, Love. You were everything!” he mumbles, arms holding you so tight you almost lose your breath, but you want him this close, or even closer. You need to feel him, because it doesn’t feel real. His hold brings you a sense of existence only he can give you.

“Thank you, Harry,” you breathe out when he pulls back to look into your eyes, the screaming hasn’t died down even a tad little.

“No, thank you, Darling. You shined like the star that you are,” he grins, playing a sloppy kiss to your cheek before his arms fall off you.

You’d die to stay in this moment a little longer, but the show must go on. The crew pushes the piano back and soon enough, the next song starts. You stay in your spot for the rest, but you keep catching Harry smiling in your way, always making you blush.

The end of a concert is always a little hectic, everyone is all over the place. Still coming off the high you just experienced, you head to the dressing room you share with the other vocalists. They are going on and on about how amazing Homesick was, and you somehow still can’t believe tonight happened. Packing your stuff you barely notice that the door flies open, but you see Harry appear from the corner of your eye.

“Ladies, would you please give me a moment with Y/N?” he asks and the girls are quick to leave the two of you alone. You stand there, kind of dumbfounded, not sure why he is acting so dramatic. Once the door closes and it’s just you and him, he stares at you, chest heaving, his hair wet from his sweat, but he still looks breathtaking.

“Harry—“

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” he cuts you off, your breath gets caught in your throat as you stare back at him, completely frozen. Opposite to what he just said, he remains standing in the same spot and you’re not sure what’s happening. “Can I? Please say yes, I can’t hold myself back for any longer,” he then adds.

“Yes,” you breathe out without even thinking about it. In a heartbeat, Harry crosses the room, chest smashing against yours as he wraps his arms around you, lips crashing onto yours in a kiss that almost makes you moan into his mouth.

It’s all a hot mess, teeth clashing, hands all over each other before his palms run down to the back of your thighs, urging you to jump. When you do, you wrap your legs around his waist and let him walk over to the table nearby, so he can place you on top, standing between your thighs as he keeps kissing you hungrily, his tongue melting together with yours in this sweet chaos. It keeps going on and on, neither of you wanting to let go of the other, but you are eventually forced to stop, coming short of air. Panting wildly, lips swollen from his kisses, you look at him to meet his gaze.

“You have no idea how hard it was to stop myself from kissing you on stage.”

“What?” you breathe out.

“Y/N, I’m fucking crazy about you and seeing you come over your stage fright, sing that song… our song, fuck, that did some unbelievable things to me. Please tell me you felt the same thing!” He is begging, not just with his words, but with his eyes as well and it crushes your soul entirely.

“I did. Harry, I always do when I’m with you.”

“Fucking Hell,” he breathes out before kissing you again. “You are… everything, Love,” he mumbles against your lips and you can’t push down the smile stretching across your face, hearing him say the same words he said right after the song.

“You’ve told me that,” you tease him, his gaze meeting yours as he flashes you his famous half-smirk, heart fluttering at the sight of him.

[lune-hime]

Garden of Tulips (Levi/Reader) Chapter 4

~Click me for more chapters~

“What did it look like?”

“Hmm?” Levi looked up from his place next to your sleeping form. “The titan that tried to snack on my darling granddaughter.” “Ugly as fuck.” “Aren’t they all?”

Levi recounts memories of the reader and their shared life together while she recovers from a serious injury.

!!WARNINGS!! - Violence, gore, smut, wholesome content ;)

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

Tulipa Rainbow Parrot ~ A tulip whose vibrant warm tones burst from deep violet petals like festive firecrackers.

↞↠↞↠↞↠

“Where is that frilly lass? We are already behind schedule.” Your grandmother exhaled and tapped her foot impatiently. Levi idly counted the butterflies that fluttered at the foxgloves planted along the polished steps he sat upon. In all honesty, he didn’t mind the waiting. The longer they lingered at the property meant less time for his anxiety to rear its ugly head the moment they left you behind.

The harsh crunching of dirt under boots collided with his ear drums as a young woman raced into view. She held fistfulls of her jade colored dress with one hand while the other struggled to keep the satchel on her shoulder as it flapped wildly in time with her pace.

“‘Bout time.” The old woman huffed, crossing her arms and assuming a position that reminded Levi that she was once a high ranking officer in the armed forces. The girl that Levi presumed to be Felicia skidded to a halt in front of them. Her ragged breaths broke the mid-morning calm and her erratic movements had scared off Levi’s counting material.

“I’m here gnädige Frau! So sorry I’m late, I was preparing some tonics for miss Y/N and-well-” Felicia was heaving and inhaled sharply before continuing.

“I dropped the first batch on the floor so I had to clean up the glass but the shattering of the bottle gave me such a fright that I knocked over the mixing bowl and thus there all my ingredients were now wasted so I had to return to the apothecary to fetch new ones and-” Due to her lack of breath, her excited explanation was barely understandable the longer she carried on. Your grandmother held up a hand signaling her to stop. Felicia coughed once and immediately straightened up, clearly intimidated. She brushed the stray honey blonde baby hairs that had haphazardly escaped their hold back into place behind her ears and stood at attention.

“Felicia, that’s enough.” The lack of surprise in your grandmother’s voice let Levi know that this kind of interaction was nothing new.

“This is Levi. I’m very sure you have heard of him, as has the entirety of the walls.” She gestured to Levi with a nod of her head. Felicia gasped, immediately spewing apologies for not greeting him immediately.

“Oh my! Captain, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Felicia sputtered politely, attempting a deep curtsy. Her bag fell dangerously close to the ground as she did so and she just barely caught it when the strap slipped down to her elbow. She fumbled to collect herself and proceeded to salute enthusiastically, puffing her chest and looking straight past either of the other soldiers in front of her.

Levi shot a quizzical look at your grandmother who just shook her head and sighed.

“At ease?” Levi responded.

“Come inside, girl. It’s a shame that this is your first meeting with Y/N in a while.” Your grandmother turned on her heel and started up the stairs. Levi stood up and waited for Felicia to follow her, however she stood impeccably straight at the bottom of the porch. Levi regarded her with raised eyebrows.

“After you.” He stated unsure, arm extended towards the door. She squeaked and nodded vigoriously and trotted into the house, all the way her bag clanking loudly.

The creaking of the stairs was a prelude to the horrified gasp that resounded through the doorway. Felicia’s expression mimicked your grandmother’s when he had presented you in your state. The pure sadness that hummed along her features gave Levi a glimpse at what he must have looked like when he had seen the abnormal swat you out of the sky.

“Gnädige Frau, w-what happened?” Felicia’s voice crackled with emotion and her hands shook against the leather in her hands.

“Titans, that’s what. Her cuts are deep. I reckon she’s got some fractured ribs, too, based on her bruising.” Your grandmother responded. Levi stood at the foot of the bed, his arms crossed into himself and a hand resting at his chin.

“I tended to her most pressing wounds last night. But I’m afraid her body has gone into shock and she has yet to wake up.”

Felicia nodded, tears beginning to pool at the corners of her eyes. Levi felt a pang in his chest for the girl. You had told him many stories about her; her character painted with fond childhood memories. It was a surreal experience for Levi to be putting so many names and concepts to faces when you weren’t here to experience them with him consciously.

“What have you brought?” Your grandmother inquired, snapping Felica out of her bubbling well.

“U-um, some tonics, antiseptics, salts.” She sniffled.

“Good, good. You are a fine apprentice indeed.” Your grandmother praised and moved so Felicia could get closer to you.

Felicia began unloading the contents of her bag. Levi watched as glass bottles, their liquids a rainbow of colors, were laid out on the table. Her practice seemed more like witchcraft than medicine.

“Where exactly do you apprentice?” Levi asked, curiosity and slight worry about the extensiveness and obscurity of her collection getting the better of him. Felicia halted her actions and stopped what she was doing to properly address Levi, standing straight as an arrow.

“Oh! Besides being a housekeeper for the Vogel estate-”

“Hush, this is no estate. Maybe during my father’s time but now it's just a house.” Your grandmother mumbled while eyeing a thin-necked bottle with a foaming liquid inside.

“R-right, Frau Vogel. In addition to being a housekeeper for the Vogel family , I am also an apprentice at the local apothecary. Krovla’s hospital is constantly overrun these days, so I’m learning how to treat the locals here.” Felicia explained with a formality that contrasted with her scattered personality. Levi nodded in understanding.  

“Felicia, you don’t need to treat Levi like a prized artifact. He’s not your superior officer so stop with this saluting-bullshit. You’re the same age for Pete’s sake.” Your grandmother said, annoyance seeping onto her face.

Felicia let out a squeak and nodded slowly. She was clearly uncomfortable about casually addressing someone of more experience, even if they were the same age. While she was apprehensive about improperly addressing authority, she was not apprehensive about talking. Levi quickly learned that she was quite the nervous chatterbox.

“Captain, gnädige Frau, would you both help me set her up please.” She requested, giving one of her bottles one last inspection and a final swirl.

“Captain, open her mouth please.” Felicia instructed softly. Levi was sitting so close to you that his thigh almost brushed your forearm. Yet, he was afraid to touch you. It was strange, and gave him that familiar stomach churning feeling. How could something so loved and familiar to him feel so fragile and foreign? His thumb ghosted over your pale lips and with as delicate a hand as he could muster pulled down your jaw. He held it there while Felicia carefully had you drink the tonic. It was a painfully slow process where Levi fixed his gaze on your limp form still performing living functions.

“It is wonderful that she is able to swallow.” Felicia commented, relief evident in her voice. She screwed the cap back onto the bottle and discarded it next to her bag.

“Mhm. It could have been much worse.” Your grandmother answered. Her statement rang true but cast a dark cloud over the already damp room. Felicia picked up on this and cleared her throat.

“You know, Captain, when Y/N has been able to return home she always talks about you. She goes on an on and on about your handsomeness, selflessness-” Felicia adorned a nostalgic smile as she recalled your musings.

The corner of Levi’s mouth twitched upward into an almost grin. Damn, you made him sound like prince charming. Which was appreciated, but couldn’t be more far from the truth.

“I gotta say I agree with her that your height is very cute-” She drawled and then bristled like a startled cat. Your grandmother could not contain her guffaw and slapped the now wide eyed Felicia on the back. She didn’t have a filter, poor thing. Like a fawn with a blabber mouth caught at gunpoint, she was.

Levi cringed and let out a deep sigh.

“I-I mean-that’s not a bad thing...right?” Felicia was now as red as a beet and looked as if her head was going to explode out of embarrassment. Levi didn’t respond, only regarded her with the unfamiliar steeliness that scared many.

Frankly, Levi couldn’t give one single shit about how tall he was; or anyone for that matter. But the incessant declaration of cuteness by comrades and strangers alike never sat well with him. Like a fly ceaselessly buzzing against a window it cannot cross. Usually the teasing would be solved with force but he was not about to use that on your family.

“What’s with that look? There’s nothing wrong with being short, I mean look at me.” Your grandmother stated confidently with a wily grin.

↞♞♘↠

The glee of the capital’s festival bled through the streets and blanketed every corner of the city on this celebrated evening. Everywhere he looked was another smiling face infected with the festival cheer. Levi couldn't deny that even he was not utterly immune to the happy virus.

His good mood was mostly due to you (and being able to finally rid himself of the stuffy capital officials), or moreover his alone time with you. After the opening ceremony, which was mostly glorifying the military police while the garrison and corps were there to stand there as ornaments of the government, was mandated break time for all soldiers. You two had simultaneously ditched Eren and Jean when they started getting competitive with the festival games and swerved Hange when she got particularly excited about the fancy delicacies.

Your mood, on the other hand, had done a complete 180 since ditching your decorated uniform for civilian clothes. Your fingers pawed at the fabric of your baby blue dress as intrusive thoughts began to slither through your mind like the blindingly neon colored plush snakes that could be won as prizes. You weren’t usually one to be bothered by the opinions of obnoxious festival goers. Unless it poked at one of your deepest insecurities.

A hundred times over you had told yourself to not let it ruin your night out. That your obsessiveness was stupid. Irrational even. That Levi had proved your persistent opinions wrong many many times. But like anyone knows with a thought that was born deep under your skin and resides within your tissues, it's very hard to eradicate.

“Would you ever date a girl who is taller than you?” One guy asked, gesturing discreetly in your direction from their spot behind you in line.

“Nah man. I wouldn’t be able to feel like a man. She’s sexy though, so even if I was shorter than her I’d make an exception.” One of the others added with a charm only a teenage boy could find appealing. The rest of their party hummed in agreement.

You tried your absolute hardest to focus on the lively drum beats, the elated stomping of dancers, and the boisterous pops of fire crackers. Yet their uninvited snickers remained replaying through your mind. You attempted to present as unbothered as Levi passed you his corndog. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and gave his shoulders a few lazy rolls.

You were supposed to be enjoying the Festival of the Hearth, supposed to be watching Levi lose to you at the hammer strength game, supposed to be happily eating your coma-inducing fried food, supposed to not let comments like that infringe on your happiness. The mental strain of your last expedition paired with the exhaustion that followed official government meetings left you with a petri dish for growing your insecurity. You knew you didn't need the approval of strangers but it ate away at you nonetheless. The victorious chiming of the bell at the top of the game rang with such force that it pulled you out of your pity party.

“I beat you.” Levi announced and turned back to smirk at you. He accepted the plushie, a creature somewhere between a turtle and a duck, from the carnival worker.

“Yeah, good job!” You exclaimed with forced gusto. When your grin cracked Levi squinted his eyes in suspicion. He regarded you with the sternness of a scolding parent, gaze flitting from you to the group behind you.

“How you let other people’s stupid opinions drag you down still gets to me.” Levi looked up at you with light annoyance. His agitation wasn’t a stab towards you but rather frustration that you couldn’t let these things go.

“What do you mean?” You abruptly answered. The hastiness of your reply was about as convincing as a wilted flower.

“It’s useless to play dumb with me. Why are you listening to random brats? Don’t you do enough of that back at HQ?” Levi chided as he cuffed his sleeves, the plushie held securely in his armpit.

“Look, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“No, some people talk too fucking loud.” Levi added, voice like a razor blade. His eyes were a weapon and dug so sharply into the men that they all began to find the neighboring cotton candy machine incredibly visually stimulating. You then hastily pulled Levi to the side to not clog up the line for the game.

“I heard what they said and it shouldn’t matter.” He said as he traded you the food for the plush. It was soft to the touch and looked at you with cold but adorable eyes. Akin to how you would describe those belonging to your love.

“I know. It’s fine, I’m fine.” You assured, hugging the turtle-duck to your chest. You knew too well he wouldn’t pick up the bullshit you were putting down. But, eh, it was worth a try.

He deadpanned and held your gaze so intensely that soon Tesla coils were spinning in the space between the two of you.

“Come on.” He beckoned. His voice was almost too low to hear over the ringing of the carnival games. He weaved the fingers of his free hand with yours so to not lose you as he led you through the hustle and bustle. No words were shared along this walk, allowing all the sensories of the festival to set in. Bodies danced past you in varying frenzies, confetti blasted in sporadic showers from the rooftops, and the artificial lights from the carnival games swept you up and

made you feel like you were in another world. Only a passing hello was exchanged when you briefly bumped into Sasha and Connie in line for the baked potatoes.

Levi parked you at the boardwalk. Plump tulips swayed in time with the music along the base of the railing. The river was alight with wishing lanterns, each one of them twinkling like fallen stars along the rippling water. He unbraided his fingers from yours and gave you that electric look once again.

He turned to you already assured of the outcome of what he was mentally planning.

“Do you wish I was taller?” He inquired nonchalantly. He leaned against the railing and took a bite out of his corn dog.

You huffed, a bit taken aback by his question. When he regarded you with one brow raised, that half smug grin of his made it click. He was trying to get you to realize the absurdity of your worries.

As if you didn’t already know.

“Of course I don’t.” You pouted. The warm light that bobbed from within the floating lanterns danced along your skin, giving you an ethereal glow that briefly made Levi forget what he even asked you. He found your hypocrisy amusingly irritating.

Levi had no self-consciousness about his appearance, for it really didn’t matter to him. He was aware that he was considered “handsome” by you and plenty of others but it was all dirt off his shoulders in the grand scheme of things. The workings of his physicality is what was more important, not its aesthetics.

“What if I said that I hated myself because I am short.” He questioned again. The evenness with which he posed his question did nothing to hide his lack of sincerity. You stared at him like someone who knew they had already lost a bet.

“Well you already hate yourself so-” You responded dryly, attempting to divert the conversation away from your ebbing embarrassment.  Levi rolled his eyes and continued to wait for the response he desired.

“Fine. I would say that it’s dumb to think that way.” You mumbled, resigning to his logic.

Levi’s lips curled. The annoyance that had surrounded him before was dusted off by the soft eyelashes of the night sky. He ditched the remnants of his corn dog in the nearest trashcan and approached you so that only a few inches separated your bodies.

“I would never wish for something as trivial as changing your height. The fact I have to slightly look up at you is one of the most insignificant things in my life.” He stated, tilting his head gently upward to meet your gaze.  His sincerity struck you like an arrow and embedded itself so lovingly within you that it shot all of the pesky doubts right out of your body.

“I know thoughts can get stuck in that brain of yours but focus on what you think of yourself and not what a group of shitheads, or anyone, decides to vomit out of their mouths.” The vulgarity of his sentence made you smile and you nodded in affirmation.

“Thank you, Levi.” You said, letting out one last puff air to rid your body of the sour mood.

He grinned in return, blessing you with one of your favorite sights. Despite feeling like a slight doofus, Levi didn’t belittle you for feeling this way. Moments like these caused the kind man under the marbled facade to peep through and made your chest swell with even more love for him.

“Here, there’s one more thing I want to do to further prove my point.” He said, gesturing towards the wooden booth selling wishing lanterns. Once a few dollars were handed over, the woman behind the counter gave the two of you square pieces of parchment and a pair of quills.

“I can think of a million other things I would rather wish for.” Levi reaffirmed as he dipped the quill in the inkwell.

“Like for the titans to fuck off into oblivion. To make Eren’s asshole the only orphus on his body so I don’t have to deal with his constant screaming. To get Hange to stop asking me for my toenails. Fucking disgusting.” He muttered the last part with a grimace. His attempt to make you laugh had succeeded and his heart bloomed with warmth when he heard you giggle.

“For a bigger bath so we have more room to-” He began casually, instantly being shushed by your finger to his lips. With his lips blocked his eyes smirked instead.

“You can’t write that.” You interjected in disbelief.

“Why not? No one is going to see it. My lantern, my wish.” He replied with a shameless shrug. You shook your head and set down your plushie to start writing your own.

“See? No height changes on this.” Levi declared after a few moments. His sudden display of paper made you quickly conceal yours. Your eyes skimmed over the colorful, yet surprisingly lovely language that dipped you in a feeling as warm as the sugared glaze of the carnival donuts.

“You have a lot of wishes.” You commented. Granted, most of them were obscure and seemed only to be there to lift your spirits.

“This world fucking sucks.” Levi responded as if it was the simplest thing within the walls. You couldn’t completely argue.

“What did you wish for?” Levi prodded as he eyed the paper you held face down to your chest. You defensively folded it in half and closed it within your palm.

“I can’t tell you or else it won’t come true.”

Levi exhaled and pursed his lips.

“You don’t believe that bull do you?”

“I can’t risk it.” You said stubbornly with a playful grin.

“Tell me or I’ll revoke your prize.” Levi urged slyly, nodding down to the turtleduck on the table. You gasped lightly and scooped up the piece of fluff into your embrace.

“You wouldn’t dare separate me from our child.” You accused with feigned offence. Levi looked into those dark, synthetic eyes and huffed.

“We could never produce something as ugly as that creature.” Levi threw back. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from cracking a smile at your exasperated look. He would secretly admit, the animal was actually pretty cute.

“Well for being rude to your daughter you definitely don’t get to know my wish now.” You countered and picked up your lantern and began walking towards the river. You turned to look over your shoulder with an excitement that dismissed the family quarrel.

Amidst hundreds of other festival goers at the river Levi held your lantern as you secured the paper to the inside with yarn. After doing the same for him, you lit the candle near the bottom with a match. The delicate ivory siding of the lantern crackled under your tender touch as you raised yours to the sky. Levi mirrored your movements.

“Ready?” You asked. The two of you looked at each other with unspoken fondness.

“Yeah.”

Then, your chambers of light and worldly prayers slipped past your finger tips and into the cosmos. Two pairs of outstretched palms bid them farewell as they sailed into the galaxy to form a constellation with the thousands of other lanterns that peppered the sky. Those now empty hands were filled with the comfort of each other as they relished in the last few minutes of tranquility before they slipped into the crowd to regroup with the others.

↞♞♘↠

“Alright my girl, we are going to head out now.” Your grandmother announced, wiping her hands on the dish towel and placing it next to the sink. The awake members of the household had gathered in the kitchen before leaving for town.

“Right! I shall start planning out Y/N’s dinner and ours as well.” Felicia said with a determined glint in her eyes. Your grandmother smiled softly at her passionate response.

“Fine, but do not feel obligated to clean anything while I am gone. Although I know you will.” She instructed with a playful sternness. Felicia laughed bashfully before tilting her head in a bow of compliance.

Levi and the old woman’s boots tapped against the porch steps and down towards their awaiting carriage.

“Why don’t you just make her leave if you don’t want her service?” Levi wondered aloud. Your grandmother chuckled gruffly as she lifted herself onto the front seat of the wagon with youthful agility.

“As much as I grumble…” She began with a dreamy sigh. Levi awaited her reply as he heaved himself into the seat next to her, faltering slightly when he had to use his sore shoulder.

“I can’t kick her out because she makes the best schnitzel within these walls.” She confessed, her features glazing over in longing for the immaculately fried breading and juicy pork.  

“So you have something to look forward to when we return.” Your grandmother declared with a crinkle of her eyes and a crack of the reins.

[vintagedolan]

mixtape | track seven

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

*contains smut*

When Nicole died, Indiana convinced herself that someone was holding down a fast forward button on her life. Some greater power with a universal remote, carelessly keeping a finger shoved down on the little button with the double arrows, with no regard to the fleeting few days she had left with her most important person.

History seemed to be repeating itself, with the best physical representation being the very quickly evolving tiny homes.

The first thing on Grayson’s agenda when they’d made it back to NYC was to decorate the property for Halloween. It hadn’t seemed like the most sound plan to Indy, considering last time they were out in the field it was just raw building materials, a platform and lots of grass. But when she climbed off the back of the quad, away from Grayson’s warmth and into the chilly air, she was standing in front of a house, or at least the bones of one, with the beginnings of the loft and stairs formed inside. It wasn’t polished yet - in fact, there wasn’t even a front door to hang the spider wreath that he had bought at Home Depot. But there was a house, and it stood as a reminder that time was passing quickly.

Despite how over the top the Dolan’s were about it, Halloween was a blink. Ethan was still in California, spending a few more days with Eden, but they facetimed in their costumes anyways - Indy had been convinced into dressing up at the last minute, which resulted in a witch costume that consisted of black leggings and a black bodysuit, which got covered up by a spare hoodie of Grayson’s early in the evening, brought on by the ever-dropping Jersey temperatures. But they celebrated with Lisa, and with E squared across the miles with a bonfire and too many pieces of candy, and Indy realized at the end of the night that it was the first holiday she’d had with family in years. It filled a vacant room in a back hallway of her heart that she didn’t realize had been abandoned, and as soon as the calendar turned to November, she was determined.

“Thanksgiving. Me, you, Lisa, Ethan, Eden, Cam, Charlie and Devin. Thoughts, opinions?”

Grayson quirked an eyebrow from the other side of the couch, face lit by his laptop screen.

“Vegan thanksgiving?”

She nudged him in the side with her foot, getting the perfect angle from where she was laying to tickle him. “Nah, we’re gonna cook a whole meal that 25% of the participants can’t eat. Sounds like the holiday of dreams.”

He poked her with a toe. “Yeah, that sounds good to me. Might have to find an extra table at Ma’s though.”

“I can plan out a menu, make sure everyone brings something. Charlie can bring plates, for all our sakes.”

“Then Ethan can bring cups, cause god knows he doesn’t know what the fuck to do in a kitchen. And I can do the menu, you’ve got enough on your plate.”

“It’s not that bad this week,” she countered, but before she could say anything else he’d picked up her planner, looking at all the little color coordinated blocks that she’d drawn out. Grayson had never had a planner before, much less an hourly one, and it stressed him out a bit just to see how little time she didn’t have allotted to something. His finger moved over a little block in dark blue, a tiny scribble inside it - time with g :).

“You block out time for us to hang out?”

“I block out time to do just about everything but pee,” she laughed, keeping her eyes on her textbook as he continued to look through her pages.

“You haven’t peed in like… 3 hours. Drink your water.”

She stuck her tongue out but did as he asked, watching the way he found something on the page and frowned, eyebrows creasing across his forehead.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He answered it too quickly, and it was her turn to frown.

“Babe. What is it?”

“It just says, uh, ‘deposit from Kenneth’. Who’s Kenneth?”

Her breathing stopped for a moment. She hadn’t heard that name said aloud in years.

“Oh um. That’s my dad. Kenneth Cross.”

He switched from realization to guilt in an instant, flipping the planner shut. Grayson wasn’t privy to much information about Indiana’s father, but he didn’t need much to know that the relationship wasn’t great.

“Shit, Dee, sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

She closed her textbook, sitting it aside with a sigh. Sitting up, she crossed her legs on the couch, a bid to get a little closer to him.

“No, it’s okay. We probably should have talked about it by now anyways. What do you want to know?”

“Whatever you want to tell me.” He offered her his hand, knowing she liked to toy with her fingers when she talked, hoping it would help.

“Well. He wasn’t always a shit head. Actually, he used to be a pretty good dad. When Charlie and I were growing up, he was always there. He coached Charlie’s basketball team, then mine. He helped mom with dinner, we all went on vacation together. I mean, I had a good childhood, I really did. But things changed when mom got sick.”

“How long was she sick?”

“Six months. It took her fast, much faster than usual with her stage and her type. I thought my dad would step up, but he didn’t. He shut down. And I get that, it was hard, but we needed him and he just… wasn’t there. Charlie had to take her to appointments because I couldn’t drive yet. He stayed at home and worked, and drank, and then drank some more and called it work. He never talked about mom, never even admitted to himself she was sick I don’t think. So Charlie and I did our best, and we stayed with her as much as we could, especially towards the end. I’d ride the subway out of the city to get to school cause I slept at the hospital most nights. And I guess Charlie and I didn’t realize, but he was working on selling the house while we were doing all that, before she was even fucking gone. So, when she did go, all of a sudden she was gone, and my house was gone, and Charlie was going to school, so it was just me and him.

“We moved into a smaller house. He didn’t talk to me. He was a shell without my mom. And I thought it would get better but it didn’t. So, I taught myself how to be okay without him, and without my mom… without anyone. I think he realized it too, and some part of him felt bad. But he knew he couldn’t fix it. So, the summer before college, he said he’d pay for wherever I wanted to live for school. I couldn’t swing rent on a Jet’s salary, and I wanted to get out of his house, so I agreed. I moved in here freshman year, and we haven’t seen each other since. Haven’t even talked on the phone really. He deposits rent in my account each month, and as soon as I can get enough money to not have him do that, I’m going to tell him to stop. I don’t want him to think I need him, for anything.”

Indy looked up for the first time since her story started, and she sucked in a breath at the sight of Grayson’s watery eyes. He blinked it away and cleared his throat, but the way he opened his arms up told a different story.

“I don’t like hating him. But I don’t know how to forgive him either.”

“C’mere,” he mumbled, waiting for her to readjust and climb on top of him. His arms wrapped around her tightly, like he wanted to press her into him and make her a part of him.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that with your mom like that, I can’t imagine.”

Indy lifted her head and looked at him with sad eyes.

“Yes you can.”

The knot in his throat grew, and he kissed her head when she relaxed against him again. He let the silence settle for a few minutes, tracing a heart against her back and pressing his lips into her hair over and over.

“I had my mom though. She helped us through the entire thing. And I had Ethan, and Cam. And I know you had Charlie, but thinking about you having to do that without a parent.” He shook his head. “I hate it. Not to mention the rest of the bullshit he’s probably put you through that you’re too nice to tell me about.”

It was her turn to get teary.  

“Well, I’m okay now. I made it, and so did you.”

He ran a thumb over her cheek with a soft smile.

“Wish you didn’t have to make it through it at all.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

Grayson shifted then, rolled them over to the side so Indy was between him and the back of the couch, coiling his arms around her tightly, shifting her up enough for him to kiss her. He let his hand roam down her back, over her ass, grabbing and moving until her leg slotted above his.

“I love you,” he said, hoping she knew just how much. She moved her hand from his cheek, let her arm wrap around him, trapping him closer to her.

“Love you more.”

He shook his head at her, making her laugh against his skin.

“You don’t have a nap written in your schedule, am I gonna screw it all up?”

“I can shift things. I’m flexible.”

He laughed again, a beautiful sound that bounced off the walls of the apartment and filled the space. Indy kept her leg wrapped around him, holding him close and finding his lips with hers again, breathing him in - her favorite distraction.

“Flexible hm? How flexible?” His voice had dropped slightly, throat gruff.

She knew they weren’t going to sleep, so she gave in, dipping down to kiss along his neck, taking charge a bit more than usual.

“You know, I think we might be the only couple who can switch from parental trauma to horny within 60 seconds,” she mused, smiling at the rumbling laugh it got out of him.

“Maybe we’re just built different.”

“Hate that,” Indy mumbled, moving back up to kiss him again. He wasted no time in coaxing her shirt off, sitting them up with her in his lap so he could do the same to his own, getting her bra off quickly after his own sweatshirt was gone. There was no better feeling than her skin against his, he was sure. Her hand landed on the middle of his chest and she hummed, smiling.

“You didn’t shave your chest hair.”

He pulled back a bit with an incredulous look. He hadn't even thought about it, but she was right. “You noticed that?”

“I notice everything about you. You’re my favorite thing to study,” she smiled, and his heart melted in his chest. The only way he knew to respond was to pull her back to him. In a bed, he would have rolled them over, climbed above her, but the couch limited him and he was at her mercy for the time being.

She didn’t seem to be in much of a rush, and between the slow roll of her hips and the kisses she pressed along a path from his jaw to his collarbone, he was very much wishing she would pick up the pace. His hands slid down to her hips, pressing her down against him in a bid for friction.

“Easy,” Indy laughed his favorite laugh, the breathy one that seemed like an afterthought. “If I’m gonna rearrange my schedule, I get to set the pace.”

“Well then, take it away,” he chuckled, but it faded into more of a groan when she nipped at his shoulder, letting her hands run down his sides. She left goosebumps in the wake of her nails, and he couldn’t help but shudder as she toyed with the waistband of his sweats for a moment, like she was playing a game. Grayson Dolan wasn’t used to being at the whim of anyone, and it was liberating in a way that had his nerves buzzing.

Indiana was perhaps enjoying herself a bit too much. Usually, she was so overwhelmed by him that she didn’t have time to really take him in. So, she soaked up the opportunity of having him displayed out for her, tracing her fingers over every plane of him - the v of his hips, the muscles over his ribs. Down his arms, back up to his shoulders, running her thumbs over his scruff as she cupped his face. When she made it back down to his abs she felt them flex under her hands, his hips bucking up just barely against hers.

“Baby.” His tone was stern, and she played into a bit, looking at him as innocently as she could.

“Hmmm?”

“You’re teasing.”

“I’m admiring.”

“Okay, then you’re cheesy and you’re teasing.”

“Guilty as charged,” she murmured, shrugging a bit.

Bad move.

His arms wrapped around her tightly, ensuring he didn’t lose his grip as he planted a foot on the floor and rose up just enough to roll them, getting her underneath him on the couch. It happened so fast that all she could do was gasp, eyes wide as she stared up at him, the blues bright with shock.

“Now, where were we.”

His cockiness was back in full swing, but he paused at the pout that came over Indy’s face.

“What?”

“I kinda liked being up there,” she said, running her hands along his arms as he held himself up above her.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna switch again?”

“Kinda.”

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal. Pants off, then we switch.”

“Deal.”

He stood up first, taking her hand and pulling her up to her feet. They shimmied out of the pants and underwear quickly, leaving them in a pile on the rug in a rush to get back to each other. The mood shifted yet again when he guided her onto his lap as he sat down, lighthearted and fun as she got herself settled. Grayson had never had lighthearted sex before he met Indiana Cross. It was always scratching an itch, even when it was with people he was in a relationship with. She seemed to unlock another side of him, one that made it so much more fun to have her above him, struggling to keep her hair out of her face and get close enough to him at the same time. He wasn’t sure how she managed to be adorable and sexy at the same time, but when she finally got herself lined up and began to sink down onto him, he didn’t have the brain power left to care.

“Shit Dee,” he groaned, using every bit of self control he had to keep his hips still, letting her set her agonizingly slow pace.

She whimpered with every inch that she moved down, finally taking all of him somehow, arching her back for a moment before she caved, leaning forward onto his chest, burying her face in his neck.

He started as slow as his body would let him, groaning as she started to grind her hips, searching out an angle that kept the pressure building. It took a moment, like it always did when they tried a new position, but when she found it Grayson knew by the way her nails dug into his shoulders. He grabbed her hips to hold her there, memorizing the way their bodies fit together so he could get right back to that same spot over and over again.

“Gray,” she whimpered into his ear, bracing her forearms on his shoulders as he chased her high for her, determined to have her shaking. All she could do was moan and hold on as he thrusted into her faster with a renewed purpose, only stopping when she clenched so hard that he could barely move.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Indy whined, every muscle in her body tightening down in defense of how overwhelmed she suddenly felt, breath catching in her throat as her orgasm ripped through her. His arms coiled around her back as if he was trying to hold her together as she shook, and he chased the last of his high, lifting her off of him at the last possible second before he came, white streaks landing on his torso. He knew it would be a mess and he didn’t care - he pressed her back to him, wrapping her up for a moment in his arms and letting the two of them come down.

“Woah. Good woah,” Indy mumbled, pressing kisses to his neck where she could reach.

“I second your good woah.”

“Good.”

“Do you have time in your flexible schedule for a shower? I got you all sticky.”

She sat up and pretended to ponder it for a moment, making a show of quirking her eyebrow just to make him laugh. “I suppose I could pencil it in. C’mon.”

She climbed off him and took his hand, leading him to her bathroom with a smile. They paused in front of the mirror for a moment, and it was the first time in a long time that Indy felt happy to be looking in one. But still, she turned around and looked up at her boyfriend - he looked better in real life than in his reflection anyways.

“You know, if you play your cards right, you might just win yourself a round two.”

That was all it took for him to pick her up so fast she squealed, carrying her behind the privacy of the shower curtain for a second taste.

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

Bekah’s hands were always cold, but they felt like ice cubes in Indy’s hands. She rubbed along her skin in a bid to warm her up, eyes wandering over to Grayson.

“She’s pale,” he murmured, keeping his distance as he stood at the end of the bed. The sight of her so still in her hospital bed was unsettling. He had expected their first visit back to be filled with smiles, and ‘I miss you’s’, stories of California and her recovery.

Instead, they’d walked into Bekah’s room to find her fast asleep underneath her Halloween blanket, brows furrowed in what he hoped was concern and not pain.

“Her body is probably just trying to get used to the new cells. Not making enough blood, she’s probably up for another transfusion soon.”

“How do you know?”

Indy nodded towards what Grayson had assumed was an IV pole - he supposed it was, but instead of the usual bags of clear or milky liquid, there were just empty hooks.

“An hour.”

Bekah’s voice was dry and horse, and although it was quiet, it made both of them jump.

“Hey! How’re you feeling?” Indy immediately perked up, painting that smile across her face that Grayson had started to associate with everything hospital, from the sounds to the smell of bleach.

“Tired. My next transfusion is in an hour.”

“Did the doctor say anything about your counts?”

Bekah looked at her and rolled her eyes, wincing as she tried to sit up in bed. Indy reached to help her but she held a hand up.

“I have a transfusion in an hour, you tell me what my counts are,” she muttered, sitting up for a moment before she let out a sigh and put her face in her hands.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay Beks,” Grayson said.

“No, it’s not. You all came to see me and I’m being an asshole.”

“No one is nice when they don’t feel good,” Gray offered, moving to the other side of the bed and resting a hand on her shoulder. It was a simple gesture, a small attempt at consoling, but it was too much for Bekah. The sniffles turned into broken sobs that shook her entire body so hard it looked like she would come apart.

“I’m just tired of this. I’m tired.”

There wasn’t an adequate response to give, so the room filled with silence apart from her sobs as they did their best to hold her together, wrapping their arms around her, around each other. Indy’s eyes were red by the time Bekah’s cries quieted, and Grayson scrambled to come up with something, anything, to lighten the mood.

“Well, if we have an hour, that means we have time for an episode of something. Didn’t you say you were watching Vampire Diaries while we were gone?”

Bekah nodded, laying back against the pillows.

“Then let’s watch one and just chill. Save your energy.”

He set it up quickly, turning off the lights and pulling his chair over to the side of her bed as it started to play. When he looked over, there was just enough light to see that Bekah had reached for Indy’s hand. And to his surprise, she reached for his too. He took it, trying to ignore the way his throat tightened at the feeling of her squeezing weakly - a silent thank you as the episode began to play.

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

The first two weeks of November passed with unrelenting speed. Indiana buried herself in her school work, carving out what she could for quality time for Grayson, even if it was just going out to Jersey with him for a movie night that ended with her asleep on his lap before the opening scene was done. He didn’t mind - he just liked having her around, watching her get closer with Ethan and his mom, knowing she was safe because she was there with him. It was hard to help someone who was so determined on being independent, but he did what he could and she did the same, spending what little time she had encouraging him and supporting him.

Grayson had his own work to focus on, and it filled the time nicely as they worked to get their brands up and running through the holidays, plus the task of finalizing the plans for the details of the tiny homes. Somehow, it was already the week of Thanksgiving before he stopped to take a breath, which he found in the backyard with his brother the day before the holiday.

“Listen. I can make rolls. I can’t fuck that up.”

“Ethan, you could fuck anything up, including rolls. Just get cups. And things to put in the cups.”

“Fuck you,” Ethan grumbled, tossing the football a bit harder than necessary across the back lot. Grayson wished he’d put on gloves, but

“When is evil coming in?”

“She lands tonight, gotta go pick her up at 10:30. Is Indy staying out here tonight too?”

“No, I’m staying at her place, her sister and her boyfriend fly in tomorrow morning so we gotta pick them up. You’re picking up Cam tonight too right?”

“Yeah. Damn, I feel like dad,” Ethan laughed, a puff of white in the cold air.

Grayson waited for him to elaborate, throwing the ball back.

“He was always the chauffeur. I mean jesus, how many times do you think he picked us up from the airport when we came home?”

“True, he fucking hated that drive too. Complained about it the whole time, every time.”

“Like you don’t hate driving into the city.”

Grayson quirked an eyebrow at him, tossing the ball a bit harder, trying to put a different spin on it.

“Okay, fine, used to hate it. Now you just like it cause you get laid at the end of it.”

“True,” Gray grinned. “That makes me sound like a douchebag though.”

“You are a douchebag.”

“We’re identical twins, so if I’m a douchebag you’re a douchebag by association,” Grayson said.

“True. You aren’t a douchebag when you’re around Indiana, I’ll give you that.”

“Yeah, she wouldn’t put up with that shit.”

“You are a simp though.”

“Says you.”

“I never said I wasn’t.” Ethan shrugged, offering up a smile as he threw. “Eden really likes her by the way. Says they’d be great sister-in-laws in the future. I told her to chill with that shit though.”

Grayson missed the ball, not even bothering to watch it bounce away on the ground.

“Why?”

“Well, you said you were never going to ask her to leave, or move or whatever. And you live in LA, we live in LA, so... I mean, being here this long is just because of the tiny houses. And I know you, you can’t do long distance bro, you’re too physical.”

“Oh fuck you, I can survive without getting my dick wet if it means being with somebody I love.”

“That’s not what I fucking meant, I mean you’re touchy, and you need to be close to the people you love. Like physically close, as in in the same room, in the same house at least. That’s why I haven’t said shit about you being at her place every night of the week. I get it Gray, it’s how you are. But that shit won’t work when you’re on the other side of the country, and I know you aren’t going to ask her to fly out there to see you after how bad those flights were for her. And I love you, and I’m gonna support you, but you can’t fly home every weekend either. We have businesses, we have shit to do. Work.”

“I know that, I’m not stupid.”

“And it makes me feel like a shit brother but you always tell me that I’m supposed to keep you on track, so if that means being the bad guy then that means being the bad guy.”

“E I know.”

“I’m not saying you have to like break up with her or anything but, I just, I think it’s gonna be hard. Like really really hard.”

“Ethan. I know.”

“I just don’t want to see you hurt, that’s all.”

“Yeah. I get it. But can you just drop it for two fucking seconds? It’s almost Thanksgiving, let’s just focus on that. Besides, you’re the one who said to wait to cross the bridge when we come to it,” Grayson huffed.

“It’s the last week of November almost. Hate to break it to you, but the bridge is right in front of you.”

The thought made his stomach drop.

“Let’s go inside. S’cold.”

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

It felt unnatural to have her sister in the back seat, but that’s where Charlie climbed in after Grayson had helped them load their minimal luggage into the back of the car and made his introductions. They’d borrowed Lisa’s SUV for Devin’s sake, knowing that his long legs would be cramped in the backseat of anything, especially the truck.

“How was your flight?” Indy turned almost fully in her seat, trying to soak in every minute she had with her sister - they had to fly out bright and early the next morning.

“Bumpy,” Charlie laughed, picking at her nails in her lap. Indy frowned when she noticed - it was her nervous tick.

“Devin I have no idea how you fit in coach bro, I barely fit and I’m tiny compared to you,” Grayson chimed in, checking over his shoulder as he pulled out of the pick up lane.

“It’s a struggle my man, it’s a struggle. But I don’t think anyone in their right mind would look at you and call you tiny. You’ve got me beat in every department but leg length.”

“Hey, if you’re actually serious about growing muscle I can throw together a workout for you while you’re here.”

“For real? That would be sick bro, I could really use the help.”

Indy held back her laugh at how they both slipped into bro mode so quickly, and Charlie seemed to be on the same page as she snickered. Eventually conversation gave way to music, Indy proud of herself for finding a perfect 2000’s throwback playlist that had everyone singing and bouncing around in their seats. By the time they made it to the house, they were all a bit breathless and full of nostalgia.

When they climbed out onto the gravel, Charlie stuck close to her sister.

“Lisa is mom. And Ethan is the twin, Eden is the sister, Cameron is the girlfriend?”

“Cameron is sister, Eden is girlfriend,” Indy laughed. “Thank god you asked.”

Charlie gave a bit of a chuckle, and Indy nudged her.

“They’re good people Char. Don’t worry, they’ll love you.”

“I just… haven’t done this in a while.”

She wrapped her arm around her older sister’s shoulders as they approached the house, squeezing her lightly.

“I know sis. I know.”

Inside, Eden was trying to be subtle as she peeked through the blinds on the windows, watching the whole crew approach.

“They’re here! Come to the door, they’re here!”

“Babe, that’s creepy. Just come sit down,” Ethan laughed, waiting for Cameron to make her next move in chess.

“It’s not creepy, it’s friendly,” she countered, but she stood back from the door at the last moment to try to make it less intimidating.

“Hey guys!” Grayson’s voice boomed loud through the house as soon as he opened the door, his excitement obvious. Cam and Ethan abandoned their chess game for a moment, and Lisa came from the kitchen with a warm smile.

Indiana officially met Cameron for the first time, happy that she went in for the hug. Lisa hugged everyone, making everyone laugh when she looked up at Devin and said “my god you’re tall.”

Once everyone had met everyone, Lisa clapped her hands.

“Alright, let’s get to work!”

The Dolan’s did things in stations it seemed, which pleased Indy’s organizational side that usually went a bit crazy around the holidays. Lisa was nice enough to assign each couple a dish to work on, which of course became a competition, like everything seemed to. Indy wasn’t sure how they were going to truly compare E squared’s vegan stuffing to Charlie and Devin’s vegan mac and cheese, but she didn’t care.

Because Grayson was beaming beside her as they worked on peeling potatoes over the trash can, and everywhere she looked she saw smiles. Devin was swaying his hips to the music while Charlie tried to copy him, just a blip behind the beat. Ethan and Eden raced to see who could chop vegetables quicker until Lisa told them to slow down so someone didn’t end up needing stitches.

LIsa was the master of the operation, working on three different things at once, waving off Indy’s offer of help.

“I used to feed all three of them and their dad. Cooking for an army is second nature,” she teased, but that familiar tone was in her voice that tugged at Indy’s heart. Ethan eventually connected to the speakers and shuffled a playlist filled with everything, from Elton John to Cudi. Grayson got vegan butter on his shirt at one point while dancing too hard, and when Indy laughed he swiped it off with a finger and smeared it on her nose. The kitchen got so hot they cracked a window, with the revolving door of the oven trying to handle all the dishes and all the bodies close together.

By 2pm, everyone took turns carrying everything into the dining room to the massive which Cameron had decorated. Everyone took their places at the table, with LIsa at the head, Grayson and Ethan beside her with the girls beside them, and Charlie beside Indy, Devin beside Eden, who had seemed to hit it off with him in their short few hours of knowing each other, and Cam at the other head.

“Before we start, I think we should all go around and share something that we’re thankful for,” Lisa proposed. “I’ll start. I’m very thankful for my health, and for my family. For my wonderful daughter, and my amazing boys, and my husband, who I love and who watches over us every day.”

She could only speak for herself, but it was a safe bet that everyone’s throats tightened. Ethan cleared his before he spoke.

“I’m thankful for my family, for the quality time we get to spend together. For my brother’s ability to deal with my ass and his help in chasing our dreams and making that shit happen. And for Eden, because… well just because.”

Eden laid her head against his shoulder for a moment before she spoke up.

“I’m thankful for my dream job, and getting to do something I love every day. I’m thankful for Ethan, for loving me and keeping me sane. And I’m thankful for all of you, especially you Lisa, for welcoming me into the family.”

“I’m thankful to be here, to meet new people and get to eat some awesome food. Thank you, for inviting us in and sharing your holiday with us,” Devin said, polite as ever.

“I’m thankful for the wine,” Cam grinned, sipping from her glass quickly just to get an eye roll out of her mom. “And for all of you, and good food, and for family. Charlie?”

Charlie threw Indy a nervous glance before she spoke.

“I’m thankful for my sister, and my boyfriend, who always keep me together and on track, and who make me laugh. And I’m thankful for new friends, and good food.”

Indy had been so intent on listening to everyone else that she hadn’t even thought of her own response.

“I’m thankful for my sister, and for all of you guys, who have been so kind to me. I’m thankful for this guy,” she bumped Grayson’s shoulder. “For loving me, and supporting me in everything I do. And, I’m thankful for the years I had with my mom. I wish she could be here today, but I know she’s up there watching, and she’s thankful that I have you guys.”

She ignored the way her eyes stung, turning to Grayson, who squeezed her thigh under the table.

“I’m thankful for my family, and for the way that dad guided us to be who we are today - all of us Dolan’s. And I’m thankful for Indy for showing me what strength and determination looks like. And for everyone here, because we’re all family. I love you guys.”

The weight of his words hung in the air for a moment as everyone soaked them in.

“Alright, dig in!” Lisa broke the silence, reaching for the rolls.

Grayson squeezed Indy’s thigh once, tracing a little heart with his index finger when she leaned over to kiss his cheek before turning back to the table. They all ate until their plates were clear, almost all of them heading back in for seconds. The final verdict was that the vegan mac and cheese was the winner of the side dish competition, much to the pride of Devin. The evening settled into various activities, from Grayson teaching Devin proper pull up form to Charlie letting Eden take test shots on her camera. Indy mostly watched from the sidelines, happy to see all the people she loved all together in one place.

Her family.

“Thank you for this.” Lisa’s voice startled her a bit, but she relaxed when the older woman moved to stand beside her.

“I should be thanking you!”

“No. We didn’t do Thanksgiving last year. Everything was still too… raw, I suppose. Everyone is here because you asked them to be. So, thank you, truly.”

The tears that Indy had been fighting all day finally found their place on her cheeks, and she sniffled through a laugh when Lisa hugged her.

“Well, thanks for sharing your family.”

“It’s not sharing if you’re a part of it my dear.”

She pulled her close for a hug before the two of them folded themselves into the mix, running around in the cold air of the backyard and enjoying each other’s company as the night drew to a close. They opted for pie and vegan ice cream to finish off the night, and Charlie insisted they take some pictures before the food comas took over. She’d thought ahead enough to bring a tripod, and she sat it up in the living room, making sure every couple got a few that they liked, and that they all got one together. Lisa requested one of just her kids where they of course all goofed off enough to annoy her. Charlie would send them all in the next few days, Indy’s favorite being the one of her on Grayson’s back, wrapped around to kiss his cheek while he grinned with his eyes squeezed shut. It became her lock screen as soon as she saved it, and Lisa went on to get the family one framed, as well as the one of all of them together too, both beside each other on the mantel held with equal importance.

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

The Thanksgiving leftovers only lasted two days in Indy’s fridge. With the stress of preparing for four cumulative finals, she didn’t have time to cook anything, and the microwaveable vegan leftovers were a god send. So was Grayson, who stayed by her side each day as she studied, quietly keeping himself busy with work until she needed him. It was a nice co-existence, both of them understanding the need for quiet but enjoying each other’s presence nonetheless. By Wednesday, she was only left with one last final, though it was her hardest, and she couldn’t convince herself that she’d prepared enough despite pulling multiple all nighters. He quizzed her when she asked, even though he butchered half the pronunciations. His commentary was the comedic relief she needed to get through it though, and she was more than grateful that he was there.

“Last set, and then you need to take a break.”

“But-”

“No buts. Unless you’re talking gluteus maximus.” He grinned when she rolled her eyes. “Baby you’ve been going non stop for 4 hours now.”

“Okay fine, hit me with it.”

“Soleus.” She pointed to the side of his calf. “Extensor carpi ulnaris.” The outer side of his forearm. “Zygomaticus major.” His cheek. “Iliopsoas.” The inside of his thigh.

“Dee, you know these. You literally don’t even have to think about it, you know them.”

She shook her head before he even finished his sentence. “I need more practice.”

“The only thing you need more of is sleep,” he countered. “C’mon, we’re both exhausted, let’s just take a nap.”

“Once we finish the set, then we can.”

“Fine. Serratus anterior.”

She tickled his ribs, making him squirm away from her.

“Biceps femoris.” She heaved his leg up from where it was resting on the couch, pointing to a spot in the middle of the back of his thigh.

“Teres major.” It was a reach, but she made it around to the back of his armpit.

“Teres minor.” She poked the same spot, just a bit harder.

“Okay, ouch, don’t abuse my teres. Uh, gastrocnemius.” She was gentler on his calf.

They went through the rest of the stack like that, with Grayson doing his best to say them correctly while Indy poked and prodded.  

As soon as he flipped the last card he yawned, sitting the stack aside and leaning forward to grab her, dragging her on top of him and nuzzling his nose into her hair. Indy sighed and relaxed into him, his warmth and the weight of his arms settling her body down. She could remember the days where she’d always wanted something as simple as this, just laying on her couch with someone to hold, and she tried to soak it in.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you more,” Grayson countered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. His hands moved under her shirt over her back, finding space.

R-E-L-A-X

“Can’t. My mind won’t stop.”

“Well, I’d offer to sing to you or some shit, but your ears would probably bleed,” he chuckled.

“S’okay. I’ll just dream about muscles or something. Innervations.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“Oh yeah, riveting stuff.”

She wiggled around to get comfortable, her cheek squished against his chest as he rubbed her back.

“Sleep, have your little anatomy dreams,” he teased, reaching over the back of the couch for a blanket to drape over the two of them.

It took a little while, but she managed to drift off to the soothing sound of his heartbeat and the feeling of his fingers against her skin.

And she dreamed.

Indiana was in a hallway. White, smooth walls with doorways that stood black and brooding on either side. Her stomach turned a bit, unease washing through her veins as she took a few small steps forward, moving to peek past one of the frames.

“Don’t sweetheart.”

Her head shot up. At the end of the hall was Nicole. She looked young, even younger than Indy’s last memories of her. Youthful, and full of life, her blonde hair familiar as it hung down and framed her face.

“Mom.”

“Hi my love.”

Indiana ran. She barreled past the doors, not even giving them a second thought as she finally, finally landed in her mother’s arms. The tears were inevitable, but she didn’t care that she shook as Nicole held her, the way only a mom could. Held her body, but held her soul.

“Where have you been? Where’d you go?”

“I’ve been here the whole time. Right here with you.”

“I miss you. I miss you so much.”

“I know. But I’m here.”

She pulled back, letting her mom brush her hair behind her ear the way she always used to when it fell into her eyes.

“Look at you. You’re all grown up. Look at those beautiful eyes. So blue.”

“Just like yours,” Indy said.

“Just like mine.”

A part of her knew that she was dreaming. She knew her mother was gone, that this wasn’t real. But her heart refused to accept it, because she could feel her mother’s skin, hear her voice, feel her like she hadn’t been able to in so long. So she just stared. Tried to memorize every part of her face, every smile line, every freckle. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, but Nicole was the one to break the silence.

“Baby. I need you to be careful.”

Indy frowned. “Careful?”

“With your heart. I need you to be careful with your heart, with my heart.”

“Momma what do you mean?”

Nicole looked to the left. Indy followed her gaze, surprised to see that the light was on in the doorway.

The doorway to Bekah’s room.

“Beks,” she breathed. Her feet automatically moved, taking her into the room until Nicole’s arms wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her back.

“Indiana,” Nicole cautioned. “No.”

“No, no Mom it’s okay, she’s getting better, see? Look, she’s fine.”

She pushed forward, but Nicole’s grip only tightened.

“No baby. Look.”

Indy listened. And she watched. Watched Bekah try to sit up in her bed. She was probably calling for Jessica, or Emily, or maybe even Indy. Her mouth opened, and no sound came out, her eyes going wide for a moment before she fell back against the pillows, chest rising too fast, too shallow. Indy knew what that meant.

“No. NO! Beks! Bekah!”

“Shhhhh baby, there’s nothing you can do, Indiana stop, there’s nothing you can do.”

“BEKAH!” She cried anyways, fighting her mother’s grip as she watched the monitors light up, heard their mocking monotone calls as they alarmed. Nurses appeared, and Indy watched them do all the right things, give all the right medicine.

She didn’t wake up.

“No, no no no no,” Indy wailed, thrashing in her mother’s arms.

“Indiana. Indiana. Dee!”

She was back in her living room, and Grayson was scared.

“Wha-” she looked around, bewildered. She was sitting up, which disoriented her a bit, though she was with it enough to realize she was still in Grayson’s lap.

“Hey, you’re okay, you’re safe,” Grayson said, eyes still wide. He pushed her hair back out of her face as she looked down, only then realizing that she’d balled up his shirt in her hands. She let go, looking at the disheveled fabric, which was also splotched with dark spots.

“I’m- sorry, I don’t… I uh… I had a nightmare. Sorry.”

“It’s okay baby,” Grayson murmured. “You okay?”

Those two words brought on a whole other wave of tears, and she crumpled into him, shaking her head as she cried.

It took him by surprise for a moment - he knew she didn’t like to cry, and he’d never really seen her so upset. So he took a moment to process, and then he lifted her arms up over his shoulders, coiling his own around her and squeezing her to him as tight as he could without crushing her. He didn’t speak. He just held her, let her get it out of her system, whatever it was.

When her sobs turned to sniffles and his shirt was fully soaked through on the shoulder, he spoke up.

“What do you need? What can I do?”

She pulled back from him, frame seeming even smaller somehow as she sat there.

“Can you go check on Bekah? I know it’s Wednesday, and I know we’re going to tomorrow but… you don’t have to, I just, I know she’s alone up there, but I have so much work to do, and-”

“I can go. I’ll go,” he said. The pieces fell together in his brain, and he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Thank you,” she exhaled, shoulders slumping back down.

“Are you gonna be okay here by yourself while I’m gone?”

“Yeah, I need to study anyways, I’ll keep myself busy. Just need to know she’s okay.”

“Okay. I’ll make sure she’s good, might hang out for a bit and watch something if she’s up for it.”

“That sounds amazing. Thank you.”

He didn’t like the idea of leaving her there, but he could tell she wouldn’t have any peace of mind until she knew that Bekah was okay. It reminded him off all the times he’d called his mother in the middle of the night in those last few months before he’d officially come home, just to make sure his dad was still there.

“If you need me, call me okay? I’ll turn back around.”

“I will.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. I love you,” she said, kissing him quickly.

“I love you more.”

He shifted her off him onto the couch and got up, putting his shoes and coat on quickly before he could convince himself to stay. It was already dark outside despite it only being 6pm, and he kept his head down on the streets on his way to the hospital, mind racing until he got up to the unit and signed in.

He half expected Bekah to be lying still in her bed, on her back with all her machines on. Or, at least for her to be drained and tired like she had been the last few times they saw her. But when he cleared the doorway she was sitting up in bed on her phone, random Tik Tok audio’s playing. She looked up at him and smiled her brightest smile.

“Earrings! It’s a Wednesday, the fuck are you doing here?!”

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“You get an extra dose of me this week, deal with it,” he teased, unzipping his coat and laying it over one of the chairs.

“Where’s Indy?”

“Studying for finals. It’s a me you date tonight, you pick. What’re we doing?”

“Well, I restarted Vampire Diaries.”

“Restarted? Bro, you were on season 7 yesterday!”

“Yeah so? The best seasons are the first two, we’ve been over this.”

“Whatever, scootch over.”

She did as he asked, though he had to put the bedrails down to even fit halfway on the mattress.

“Here, get in here so we can send some motivation to Dee,” he said, pulling out his phone and opening snapchat. They moved so just their noses-up were on screen, making Bekah laugh as he sent it off.

She screenshotted it and sent back a heart, which put his mind at ease enough to relax and attempt to enjoy an episode, though he wasn’t really following the plot considering they were almost halfway through the first season.

“So, what’s happening exactly?” He finally asked 20 minutes into the episode.

“Stefan is trying to be all ‘you deserve better than me’, and Damon just doesn’t give a shit. Essentially, Stefan doesn’t want to hurt Elena so he wants her to make the decision to break it off so he doesn’t have to. He doesn’t want to be the bad guy.”

“But if he loves her, then why does he want to break it off at all?”

“Well cause he’s bad for her. She would have to give up so much for him. She’s having to lie to her friends, hide all this stuff for him. Change her whole life really. But she wants to, because she loves him, he just doesn’t think it’s fair to ask that of her. But like… he’s still asking her to do it just by being with her, you know?”

He knew.

“I mean, and he’s a fucking vampire. Yah know, suck suck and all that jazz,” Bekah laughed. “If the rest isn’t a deal breaker, then that definitely is. I mean, yeah, Damon’s a vampire too but at least he just accepts it, and he doesn’t ask her to change or anything.”

He didn’t say anything.

“I’m Team Damon, if you couldn’t tell,” she tried again.

“Yeah. Me too.”

Grayson tried to shake himself out of his thoughts, but it was proving difficult. Luckily, Bekah just mistook it as him being super invested in the show, which made her happy. Jessica let him stay an extra fifteen minutes, and he took a quick video of Bekah wishing Indy luck on her last final before he left and headed out.

The walk home was worse. It was darker somehow, colder as his mind raced with realization after realization. He did his best to do the math in his head. It was December 3rd, which meant 30 days until he was supposed to go back to LA. All the way to the other side of the country, only coming back to Jersey every few months if he was able to. Ethan’s voice rang in his head as he trudged through the lobby and into the elevator.

That shit won’t work when you’re on the other side of the country.

He tried to breathe it off, put on a positive face before he opened Indy’s apartment door, smiling when he saw her on the couch, pencil tucked behind her ear as she looked over diagrams.

“Hi! How was it?”

“It was good, she’s good. Looks great actually.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket once, then again, and he pulled it out to check it.

A notification of a payment from the joint bank account, and then a text from E.

Booked the flights for the 2nd. Hope that’s cool.

“Everything okay?” Indy asked.

He put his phone back in his pocket and smiled.

“Yeah. Everything is fine.”

[365days365movies]

April 5, 2021: Arsenic and Old Lace (1944) (Recap: Part One)

Yeah, so...Spectrum exploded last night.

So, I'm unfortunately a little behind. BUT NEVER FEAR! I'll get back on time before you know it! So, uh...where were we last time? OH RIGHT! Let's talk about black comedy. And I don't mean black-and-white comedies, or comedies prominently featuring African-American culture and demographic. No, I mean dark comedies.

The "black comedy" functions off of macabre or taboo humor and jokes, and is often closely associated with biting satire and commentary in film. That definition is loose as hell, I know, but it's all about the subject matter. The most common subject matter for dark humor is death, of course, and related subjects to death. War, murder, strife, madness, and violence are also common topics here.

Some of the best comedies are black comedies, though. For example, Brazil (1985; dir. Terry Gilliam) focuses on themes of depression, dreams, terrorism, totalitarian governments, and madness. And it's GREAT. How about The Death of Stalin (2018; dir. Armando Iannucci)? The title ALONE should tell you everything you need to know about the tone and topic, AND YET...

It's HILARIOUS. And also informative! If you haven't seen it, I definitely recommend it. And again, that film is about, well...the death of Stalin, and the fallout of his disastrous and murderous regime. Dark, DARK topic, but very funny movie.

Dr. Strangelove, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb is about war; Fargo is about murder in North Dakota; Heathers is about a toxic relationship and the death and murder of teenagers; Birdman, or The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance is about an actor's existential crisis and complete mental breakdown; and Trainspotting is about the devastating effects of drug addiction and features a DEAD BABY FOR CHRIST'S SAKE...and yet they're all full of laughs! Except for the baby scene. Fuck me, the baby scene in Trainspotting.

So, yeah, these are a diverse group of films, that's for sure. But where does it all start? There's 1942's To Be or Not to Be (dir. Ernst Lubitsch), which is about a Polish theatre company who need to escape in the midst of...well, 1942 Poland. If you don't get why that's dark, you should probably look up some history, bud. Charlie Chaplin would dip into the role in 1947's Monsieur Verdoux, which I mentioned last time. And there's the seldom-talked-about Kind Hearts and Coronets (dir. Robert Hamer), a 1949 film about murder for status, essentially.

But it's hard to argue that the most prominent early black comedy is 1944's Cary Grant vehicle, Arsenic and Old Lace.

Directed by Frank Capra, this film was based on a 1941 stage play, and is about...well, we'll get to it. While its prominence as a black comedy is one reason I'm watching this movie, the other is...well, to be honest, this is a movie I heard about CONSTANTLY from my Mom, as this is one of her favorites. And yet, like Dirty Dancing, I've somehow never seen it! Let's remedy that.

So, without further ado, let's get into it! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

The film starts off with a BANG, as a man calls me a “big simp” to my face! Actually, he’s screaming at a Brooklyn Dodgers game, where a massive fight breaks out. This fight quickly transitions to a city hall, where a line of people are waiting to file marriage licenses. Amongst the line is Mortimer Brewster (Cary Grant) and Elaine Harper (Priscilla Lane).

Brewster is hiding from the press, as he’s a famous reviewer, and author of the Bachelor’s Bible, and it would be quite the scandal for him to get married. And yet, he’s head over heels in love with Elaine. After going through an existential crisis about the whole thing, he gives into Elaine’s sweet demeanor, and the two file their marriage license officially.

It’s Halloween day, and we move from the city to the suburbs of Brooklyn, where two policemen, O’Hara (Jack Carson) and Sanders (John RIdgely) are on patrol. Sanders tells O’Hara of the kindly Brewster Sisters, the sweetest women on Earth, both of whom live in the neighborhood. Currently, they are being visited by Reverend Harper (Grant Mitchell), Elaine’s father. He’s speaking with Abby (Josephine Hull) and Martha Brewster (Jean Adair), the kindly aunts of Mortimer. 

Also living there is Mortimer’s brother Teddy Brewster (John Alexander), who apparently believes that he’s Teddy Roosevelt, which is...hilarious. Dude is hilarious, seriously. The cops come over to visit the two, and collect some clothes and toys for local charity. Also, Teddy only leaves a room by screaming “CHAAAAARGE!!!”, and running up the stairs, and I love Teddy a lot.

Reverend Harper and the cops leave for the night, and the sisters settle down for the evening. Abby and Martha state that their plans for Elaine and Mortimer should go as scheduled, which is probably talking about their marriage. Abby also mentions that she’s done something while she was away, to Martha’s delight and surprise. They tell Teddy that he’ll soon be digging a new lock for the Panama Canal...whatever that means.

Martha’s about to go to the basement to see what Abby’s done, but she states that because she was all by herself, the surprise is in the window seat. As she’s about to look at the surprise, Elaine shows up in the window, and the two arrive to give the happy news that they’re married. Elaine goes to tell her father of the news, while Mortimer goes to tell his sweet aunts. Afterwards, the two will be on their honeymoon, going to Niagara Falls. And I should say, they’re quite a sweet couple.

After telling the news to his aunts, he asks them where his notes are for his new controversial book, Mind Over Matrimony. They go to look for it around the house, and Teddy comes downstairs, dressed up in attire to “go to Panama.” Aunt Abby comes across a childhood picture of Jonathan, Mortimer’s brother and apparently a violent sociopath or some sort. She goes to burn the picture (geez), and Mortimer continues to look for the notes. He goes to the window seat.

Yup! It’s a body! Looks like Abby and Martha’s sweet old lady act is a guise for some myurder! Which I know, just because it’s the most famous thing about the movie. However, Mortimer thinks the murderer is Teddy, and tells his sweet old aunts about the body, asking that he gets put into an asylum. But Abby notes that Teddy didn’t kill the man, and they already know about the body!

Which, yeah, surprises Mortimer, obviously.

Abby cheerfully admits that the man, Mr. Hoskins, was poisoned by a tainted glass of elderberry wine, and that they did so on purpose, hiding the body before the Reverend came for a visit. The whole thing isn’t a big deal; it’s just Abby and Martha’s little secret!

After they leave, and brush off the whole thing as easy as needlepoint or macramé as a hobby, Mortimer, is completely broken by the whole affair, and is partially convinced that he’s dreaming. All the while, Elaine’s trying to get Mortimer to come over and speak with her father. But Mortimer can’t exactly forget about this whole silly murder thing, and goes to confront his aunts about it. He learns that Teddy’s digging not a lock, but a grave in the cellar. As he’s done with 10 other bodies. Or maybe it’s 11 others?

After picking up a phone call from Elaine, then hanging up abruptly (and understandably), Mortimer finds out how this whole thing started. See, the two have a “Renters Wanted” sign in their front lawn, and the neighborhood thinks that it’s there so the two sweet old ladies can offer help to anyone in need, even though they aren’t actually renting to anyone. In reality...well, they do it for another reason.

See, an older gentleman stopped by a bit ago, and he had a heart attack right there in the living room. After seeing how peaceful he looked, the two decided to bring in other lonely old men and bring in the same kind of peace. And from there...well, yeah, you get the general idea. They’ve been poisoning them with arsenic, strychnine, and cyanide mixed in with elderberry wine. Apparently, Martha’s got the mixture just right so that it tastes delicious. With all this explained, they offer Mortimer a sip of wine. Which he’s understandably nervous about.

But with all of that done, Elaine comes over to check in on him. But he’s not able to tell her anything, which greatly (and understandably) confuses her. He basically kicks her out (which enrages her, once again understandably), and calls a judge with the intent to frame the whole affair on Teddy, who’s always been.unstable. Which, for the record, is not even SLIGHTLY going to solve the problem.

But as he’s on the phone, a man named Gibbs (Edward McWade) comes in to rent an apartment. He’s all alone in the world, with nobody to care for him. And of course, this leads to the women trying to poison him with the wine. It’s a funny yet tense moment as he stops just short of drinking the wine, distracted by Mortimer’s freakout over the phone. But Mortimer gets off the phone JUST in time to scare Gibbs away and stop him from drinking the wine. And it is...VERY funny, goddamn.

As Mortimer tries to tell the aunts exactly what’s wrong with what they’re doing, the phone rings. It’s a call from Witherspoon (Edward Everett Horton), who runs an asylum that Mortimer wants Teddy committed into. However, they don’t quite have room for him, as they have too many Theodore Roosevelts at present. However, they do need more Napoleon Bonapartes. I love this goddamn movie.

Still, Witherspoon agrees to take him in despite that, and Mortimer head out to get the paperwork done. However, he asks his aunts to not do anything until he gets back, and he also proises that he’ll attend the “services” for their latest victim. He leaves, and kinda steals a cabbie’s car in the process (I love this movie, I’m telling you), and Abby and Martha start shutting things down for the night. However, as they do, they get a mysterious knock on the door. They pretend not to be home...only for a man with an ominous scar to enter the room regardless.

Let’s pause here, shall we? See you in Part 2!

[thepoppypress]

The Battleline Between Good and Evil (Runs Through the Heart of Every Man)

Chapter 1: 

The sounds of hard bone hitting flesh made Peter wince as he furiously scrubbed at the now non-existent stains on the hard, polished wood of the bar. His eyes were down cast as he tried to ignore the massacre in front of him with every fiber of his being. Despite it being early in the afternoon, his shift had already started off quite eventfully, with a barroom brawl. Even now, he found it hard on himself not to intervene. However, he knew he couldn’t draw attention to himself. In this type of environment, attention was either bad or worse with no better or inbetween. It was something he couldn’t afford.

A thump in front of him drew him out of his musings, his Spidey Sense starting to tingle quite annoyingly. Whoever was in front of him was dangerous. A deep voice started to speak.

“Old fashioned,” came the demand. Peter nodded silently, willing his face to be impassive as he concentrated on making the drink for the man. When he was done, he slid the drink over to the bar counter.

“Here you go sir,” he uttered politely, glancing up and taking note of the patron. He was an older man who wore a black, fitted T-shirt that displayed his assets clearly, biceps bulging as he leaned leisurely against the counter. White hair covered his head, cut recently as the smell of fresh shampoo came off of him to reach Peter’s sensitive nose. He could also clearly see little hairs clinging to the black of his shirt. The man had an eye patch over his right eye and was huge as well.

When he finished his drink, he slid it back over to him, and stood up at his full height, towering well over Peter and the rest of the patrons in the bar. The man’s one eye glanced at him, appraising him and Peter couldn’t help but blush a bit. He looked away, but not before noticing the slight twitch of the man’s mouth as he did.

‘Fuck,’ he thought and to avoid more embarrassment, Peter glanced around the large man to look at where the brawl had gotten to now.

“You new here?” Peter’s large eyes came back up to meet the other man’s and he nodded shyly.

“Yeah, a little over a month.” Eye-Patch (as Peter has now affectionately nicknamed him) hummed and stared at Peter for a little while longer, who fidgeted uncomfortably. Even though there was plenty of noise within the mostly empty club, the silence between both men was getting to Peter, which prompted him to ask a question. “Do you come here often?” The man grinned.

“Not before.” That made Peter blink. He tilted his head in confusion. He was obviously missing something here.

“Huh?” Eye-Patch laughed, gaining the attention of several people around them.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” Peter bristled a bit at the nickname, “just that you should probably expect me more.” Reaching into his pocket, Eye-Patch pulled out several hundred dollar bills and threw them towards Peter, whose eyes widened at the sight. “Just for you. Keep the change.” And he walked out the door without another word. Peter gaped at the door for a long while before looking at the neat bills on the counter.

“Weirdos,” he grumbled underneath his breath but not before pocketing the money. Another low thrum sang at the back of his head and he felt a presence sidle up beside him. He knew who it was without even looking.

“Hey Petey Boy!” Peter grabbed the glass that Eye-Patch just drank out of and began washing it.

“Hey Harley. What’s up?” The woman squealed happily, popping the gum in her mouth obnoxiously. Peter found that he quite liked Harleen Quinzel, after he worked past his first impression of her.

“Nothin’ much,” she drawled out teasingly, her blonde pigtails bouncing around her, “just wonderin’ when ya’ became such good friends with Deathstroke over there.” Peter grabbed a rag hanging on the bottom countertop and started to wipe down the glass in his hands.

“Who?” Harley giggled loudly, toying with the hem of Peter’s T-shirt as she grabbed onto one of his arms. He glanced down at her with a soft, curious look and she rolled her eyes playfully.

“Y’know, hunky Eye-Patch guy? Guy who just left?”

“Ah,” Peter realized before questioning, “his name is Deathstroke?” Harley rolled her eyes again.

“No, silly! His real name is Slade Wilson. He’s a mercenary for hire.”

‘Guess that answers that question.’ Harley blew a bubble and popped it again, winking suggestively at him, “and he was so interested in you!” Peter snorted.

“Nah. I’m new here so he was just asking. Besides, he’s a bit too old for me.” The look on Harley’s face was dubious.

“Uh-huh. Sure, honey. I’m just saying, he’s pretty hot. Also,” he felt a squeeze on his bicep, “have you been working out? You’re ripped!” Her smile became mischievous. “Trying to impress someone? Ooh! Ooh! Is it me?” Peter gave a small laugh, his curly hair bouncing as he shook his head.

“I’m always trying to impress you, Harls.” The blonde giggled and leaned over to kiss his cheek before swiping her thumb across it, wiping away the lipstick.

“Aww, you sweetie. If I didn’t have my puddin’, I would be with you in a heartbeat.” Peter forced a smile as Harley made heart eyes at the mention of her on-again-off-again boyfriend. Right now, it was decidedly on. If you asked Peter, he would say he knew the signs of an abusive relationship when he saw them. “Anyway. I just came ta tell ya’ that your shift for this afternoon ends right now and I’ll see you in a few hours!”

“Okay, thanks.” She kissed his cheek once more, not bothering to wipe away the residual lipstick before flouncing out of the bar. Peter wished she could see that she could do so much better than a man nicknamed ‘The Joker.’ Somewhere among the brawl that still had not stopped, the sound of glass shattering grabbed his attention. Peter sighed.

‘I better clean that up before I leave.’

-----

Peter walked the few blocks that it took to get to the homeless shelter where he stayed. He opened the door that housed the tens of people that wandered the streets, and closed it softly behind him. Setting towards his cot, he noticed that people were bustling around like crazy, and a nice smell was coming from the kitchen. His stomach grumbled but he willed it to stop. He needed the money to get a new place and he was a few hundred away from achieving his goal for the upfront portion. He was lucky that Harley decided to help him out and aid him in forming a bank account here. Peter reached his cot and sat down, noting that, luckily, no one had tried to steal his stuff. Again. Settling back against the pillows, Peter thought about the past couple of months.

He had first come to this world so unfamiliar to him through some sort of magical portal. God, he fucking hated magic sometimes. Mr. Stark had let him go into his lab unsupervised for the first time since the incident involving the toaster, pink glitter, and the flamethrower.

It was nice.

He was sitting at one of the tables, tinkering around with one of his web shooters, Led Zeppelin (“For the sake of America’s Ass™, Peter, it’s ACDC!”) booming in his ears when suddenly, he felt himself being pulled back, a cold feeling settling across the back of his neck and making its way to the rest of his body. Then, a weird expression came over his face as another feeling came over him, like he was being stretched thin, but it didn’t hurt. There’s a quick flash of a blinding light, causing him to shut his eyes (his overly reactive senses are a blessing and a curse) tightly and the next thing he knows, Peter hits the ground hard, his body making a soft thudding noise.

The first thing to register is the sight. It wasn’t overly bright, like the light was. In fact, it was rather dark. Brick walls surrounded him from two sides, indicating that he was in an alleyway of some sort. It wasn’t too spacious and various bags of trash were littered all over the place. Doors were lined along the brick walls, all closed and looking uninviting. Then came the smell. It was horribly pungent, probably even to the regular nose.

To Peter’s nose, however, it was hell. He could practically feel his olfactory glands swelling from the amount of stink he was admitting into his body. Gagging, he tried to stand up to get away from the smell only to stumble and nearly eat the gravel under him.

‘Parker Luck fucking sucks,’ he thinks as he collapses against one of the doors on the brick walls, then thinks groggily, ‘hey, that rhymed.’

He rested his head against the cool metal for a moment before his Spidey Sense, sensitive and overly reactive at the moment, blares a warning, making him shoot backwards. He lays on the ground for less than a second when the door he had previously rested on opened with a bang. His head pounded more than it ever did before, and the added sound of the metal banging against the brick and a high pitched voice screeching didn't help either. Peter squinted at the rather tall female figure standing in the doorway screaming obscenities into the lit room.

She screamed her last words, no response following her, and stepped outside with a huff, slamming the door behind her. Peter closed his eyes again, and laid his head against the concrete sullenly, fully expecting her to leave him. If he was a woman in a city at night, he would do that too.

“Oof, yer’ lookin’ kinda rough there buddy.” Peter’s eyes popped open in surprise. The woman was standing over him, a look of sympathy and concern displayed on her pale face. She crouched down and the closer she got, the more clearly he could see her features. She was pretty, with alabaster skin and platinum blonde hair pulled into pigtails, the ends dyed red and blue. Her bright blue eyes blinked curiously at him as he laid unmoving for a second.

“I fe’l rough’,” he croaked, his hands rubbing at his throat in an effort to ease the pain he felt as he spoke. The woman clicked her tongue and reached for his wrists, bringing them away from his neck.

“Alright, sweetie, I need you to answer every question as best as you can okay? I’m a doctor, I can help you.” Peter groaned and pointed to her, his arm bending at the elbow to raise his finger in the air.

“Wha’s yur’ name?” He managed to slur out. ‘Stranger danger Parker,’ he reminded himself in lieu of Mr. Stark. If he were here, he would be shaking his head in disappointment, Peter was sure of it.

“Ah, how rude of me! Ma names Dr. Harleen, but ya’ can call me Harley!” The hand pointing at her turned into a wave, greeting her.

“Hey,” he replied weakly, “my name’s Peter. Peter Parker.” He could hear the grin in Harley’s voice.

“Well, Peter Parker, tell me. Are ya feeling nauseous or dizzy?”

“Yes.”

“Any ringing in the ears?”

“No.”

“A headache? Are ya feeling really tired?”

“Not that bad of a headache. Tired, yes,” he sighed, fatigue heavy in his voice, “look, Doctor, I don’t have a concussion. Just feeling weird right now.”

“Ya drink before you came here or eat something weird?”

“No, I’m just weird like this.” Harley was silent for a moment.

“Do ya want me to help get you home?” Peter sighed again, pushing his arms up to help himself lift his torso so he was sitting upright.

“I, uh, don’t have a home,” he looked around the alley, his senses starting to clear (though his nose still throbbed at the smell), “where am I, by the way?” Harley leaned into his vision, a slightly incredulous look on her face.

“You don’t know where you are?” Peter shook his head, happy his headache was now subsiding. The disbelieving expression didn’t disappear from Harley’s face. “Well, you, puppy, are in Gotham, the most crime ridden city in the world.” Peter sent Harley a weird glance.

“Gotham? Like Gotham City, Batman’s Gotham City?” The second the sentence went out of his mouth, Harley covered his lips with her hand.

“Never say that name unless you’re looking for a death wish!” She hissed at him, her eyes hard. “Promise me!” Wide eyed, Peter nodded reluctantly and he was let go. It wasn’t like he read the comics or anything. He didn’t really know much about Batman. Just that he had a sidekick named Robin and they fought the Joker on a regular basis. Harley straightened, causing him to look up at her. She extended her hand which he took and he slowly stood up with her help. She dusted him off, her hands sweeping across the back of his jacket and the front of his shirt for him. He nodded in thanks.

“Do ya have your phone on ya?” He reached into his back pocket and felt that, yes, thankfully, his phone was still in his pocket. He tugged it out and unlocked it, tapping on the call icon. He goes straight to Tony’s number. A ring doesn’t even make it onto his phone before the screen says that there’s no service for his phone. He sighs forlornly. There goes trying to contact home.

“Sorry Harley, I don’t have service here.”

“So ya don’t have service, no way to contact home, and ya have no idea where ya are?” Peter shook his head. It was Harley’s turn to sigh. “Alright, puppy, yer' comin’ with me. I know a nicer homeless shelter than any of the ones they got on Grand.” She grabbed his wrist and dragged him out of the alleyway onto the nearly empty street. He should’ve probably been concerned that he was heading somewhere with a random woman, granted one who had tried to help him. There was still a low thrum of danger at the back of his head, but all he could focus on was that ridiculous nickname.

“Puppy?” The blonde haired woman paused, turning back with a teasing smirk on her pretty face.

“‘Cause yer’ so cute like a puppy, with those puppy dog eyes and pouty frown. Yer’ even smaller than me!” At that point, he had taken note that she was, in fact, a full four inches taller than him. He looked at her with somewhat genuine offense.

“Hey! I’m 5’6! You’re only so much taller because you’re wearing heels!” He pointed towards the pumps that adorned her feet. Harley scoffed and took off her heel for a second, showing both of them that, even without the heels, she was still an inch taller than him. He groaned. This night was just getting worse and worse. First, he’s in an unfamiliar place with an unfamiliar woman who was taller than him. Hearing Harley’s laugh though, as they walked through the streets arguing about who was really taller, made him feel at least a little better. It wasn’t much, but every little bit counts.

All that eventually led to where Peter was now, laying on a cot in the same homeless shelter that Harley had introduced him to. He had gotten a couple of jobs with the help of Harley’s shadier connections. He had realized early on that this dimension was not the same world that the comics had shown. This was somehow different. There was no one with super powers, though the monikers were still real. Batman was real, but Harley (the only person he trusted up to this point) hadn’t told him anything, and by the fifth time that he asked, he realized he wouldn’t be getting anything out of her so he stopped. He had wondered who Batman was here, and if he and Robin were still partn-

The sound of an alarm pulled him out of his thoughts, and Peter hurriedly grabbed his phone and turned it off. He saw the time and sighed.

“Time to head to work,” he muttered.

-----

“Hey Puppy!” Harley squealed as he entered the club that was now flooding with people, the lighting dim save for a few spotlights that roved over the sea of people. Peter straightened his clothes, a white button down paired with some slacks. They had been the Joker’s but, according to Harley, they didn’t fit him anymore. Peter shivered at the thought of taking something of the Joker’s, but he guessed it couldn’t be helped.

“Harley!” He yelled back in greeting and both walked over the bar. Peter quickly clocked in and set off to work, one of his coworkers behind the counter already. From there, it was quite the busy time, people requesting drinks all over the place. Peter and Harley talked from time to time as he prepared other’s drinks. It was a fairly smooth evening so far.

Of course, as soon as he thought that, trouble had to come, brewing in all its toxicity. When he had first started as a bartender for the club, he had been warned to keep an eye out for suspicious activity, just so the club doesn’t get hit with another lawsuit. Harley was fiddling with her phone in one corner of the bar, and at this point, Peter was used to the loud noise of the club, having inconspicuously stuffed his ears with ear plugs earlier. However, it didn’t completely cancel out the noise as his super hearing still noted everything within his vicinity. In the opposite corner of the bar, away from him and Harley, Peter somehow heard the soft sounds of paper being ripped, a drop of something hitting the water, and a soft fizzing noise.

His head imperceptibly turned to watch as a rather handsome man handed a tall glass of something to a beautiful blonde accompanied by a taller, equally beautiful redhead. ‘Taller than me too,’ he thought bitterly. The blonde accepted the drink as it was slid over to her and was about to lift it when Peter quickly rushed over. He leaned over the counter and subtly pressed a finger down onto the base of the glass, which was widened, using his strength to keep the glass down. He made subtle eye contact with one of the bouncers next to the door, and the man got the message pretty quickly. He started toward the bar while Peter distracted the patrons.

“Sir!” His voice still sounded somewhat soft and high pitched over the bass of the music. “I think there’s someone outside looking for you! You match the description I think!” At the odd look given to him, he continued trying to convince him, “what’s your name?!” The man’s glassy eyes roamed over Peter’s face before answering,

“Trevor!” Peter squinted, trying to sell his lie.

“Last name?!”

“McConnelly!” Peter nodded and waved over the bouncer, who lumbered over.

“Is this the Trevor McConnelly the person outside is looking for?!” A quick once over of Trevor told Peter all he needed to know about him. “Wasn’t it his girlfriend?!” Without question, the bouncer nodded. Trevor suddenly paled and rushed past the bouncer, a man named Gus, who followed him. Peter shot him a thankful look and then turned back to the two women, glancing about them awkwardly.

“Sorry, but I wouldn’t drink this if I were you. He slipped something into it.” The women, shockingly, didn’t look surprised. They only glanced at each other before turning to him with twin smiles, an unheard conversion passing between their eyes that Peter didn’t know how to interpret.

“Thanks for the assist. I really appreciate it,” the blonde purred over the music. Peter could’ve sworn the grin on her face turned sharp for a split second before it flitted away and an almost natural smile came over her face once more. Almost being the key word. A shiver crawled up Peter’s back and the thrum of Spidey Sense became nearly haywire as he stared at the expressions of the two women. They were a lot more dangerous than they appeared.

“I don’t mean to condescend, and I’m sure you’re both able to protect yourselves, but please be careful. No one deserves that to happen to them,” he said as earnestly as possible, using his large brown eyes to his advantage. That seemed to soften at least the red head as her smile started to turn a little bit more gentle. The blonde seemed a bit thrown by his honesty, but quickly recovered, and her smile too seemed a little tender.

“I appreciate it! Not a lot of people can make that statement sound nice!” He gave them a small, genuine smile before turning back to the bar and continuing with other orders. Harley was suddenly gone from her spot, and Peter furrowed his brows. ‘I hope she’s okay,’ he thinks as he starts on another drink for another patron. He quickly shoots a text in between requests and then shuts off his phone. At one point, he’s done with all his requested drinks and takes a bit of a break. He turns around again only to see the two women from earlier still at the bar, conversing quietly. They’re quite perceptive, he notes because the instant his attention turns to them, their attention turns to him and they’re locked in a staring contest. He shyly wanders over to their spots, nearly missing the slight amusement that flashed between both of their eyes.

“What’s your name?” The redhead asks as he nears them. Peter smiles innocently, trying to keep posture loose as his Spidey Sense reacts again. His hands pull at each other, something he can’t help, and something that both women definitely notice.

“I’m Peter. Peter Parker. And you?” He’s as polite as possible. Always be polite to a customer, he remembers his manager saying. The redhead speaks again.

“I’m Barbara Gordon, but my friends call me Babs. You can too.” Peter nodded, his curly down hair bouncing as he did so. The women’s eyes crinkled as they smiled, their expressions now a hundred times more genuine than before.

“Stephanie Brown, Steph. But you can call me ‘Mine,’” the blonde winked with a small and suggestive smile. Peter’s cheeks turned red at this, his pale skin flushing. Barbara and Stephanie could tell too, as they chuckled a bit at his face and Peter turned his head away in embarrassment. When he turns back a few moments later, they’re still laughing, and he pouts a bit. ‘I never know how to respond to those comments,’ he thought. As their laughter subsided, they started asking more questions. With the danger at a small vibration at the back of his mind, he felt like he was in an interrogation.

“Have you worked here long?” Stephanie asked, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder, exposing her neck and cleavage. Peter made a huge point to himself to look straight into her eyes or over her shoulder under the guise of watching someone else.

“Not really,” he replied, “Just over a month. I work at The Captain’s Bar too.” Both women perked up in interest.

“Really? We frequent but we’ve never seen you.”

“Well, I work in the mornings and afternoons on Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. You guys should come by sometime when I work! It’s quieter then if you guys want to talk!” They smile at him and he feels the vibration of danger slowly slip away until it’s nearly nothing. Peter guesses he won them over.

“Sure thing! We’re free next Wednesday so expect us then!” Peter nods, his fluffy hair bouncing again. Sudden, dual beeps enter his ear canal as he hears both women’s phones go off at the same time. They glance at the texts and curse and Peter suddenly realizes he shouldn’t hear those sounds and he’s staring so he turns away, trying to find interest in something else.

Stephanie talks again, “do you have a napkin and a pen?” He searches around the bar for a pen and he grabs a napkin from the neat stack in the corner. He gives them to her and she quickly writes down two sets of numbers. “These are our numbers! Keep in touch!” With that, they’re gone. Peter takes the napkin delicately into his hand, observing Stephanie’s writing style before pocketing it carefully. He resumes his job, but it’s not five minutes later that he remembers, the thought irking him. Damn pet peeves.

“Fuck,” he curses quietly, “she took the damn pen!”

-----

It was a week later that he encountered Barbara and Stephanie again. In the meanwhile, he was added into a chat between the two women, their conversations ranging from everyday, talking-about-the-weather to absolutely ridiculous. Peter knew not to draw attention to himself but he reasoned that two more friends couldn't hurt. He rather enjoyed having more people to talk to, not that Harley was an unsatisfying friend to be around. Speaking of, he had found that Harley had left because her “puddin’” needed her. When he had called her later that night, concerned, the excuse rushed out of her lips, leaving him less than convinced, but he let it go.

She arrived at the barroom the next day with her usual smile and a bouncing ponytail and everything was back to normal. Eye-Patch came in more often, Peter noticed, leaving more and more hundred dollar bills on the counter. Peter had tried to get him to stop, only to receive a smug smile and a goodbye of ‘sweetheart,’ before he was on his way. He found that Deathstroke, Slade Wilson Peter recalled as his name, was a man of little words, but that didn’t stop him from making small conversation with Peter when he could. Harley thought that he wanted to impress Peter. Peter disagreed completely.

“I think he might be making fun of me.” Harley rolled her eyes.

“Not true. I know guys like him. He’s trying to impress you, Puppy. Don’t doubt me.” Peter, knowing that arguing with her would be fruitless, just shrugged.

“Whatever you say, Harls.”

Wednesday came, and just like they said, Stephanie and Barbara entered The Captain’s Bar near the end of his shift with dazzling smiles on their faces as they shifted the backpacks on their shoulders. Peter greeted them happily.

“Hey Babs! Hey Steph!” They greeted him, waving jovially and walked towards the bar, sitting on seats right in front of him. “How are you guys doing?” Now closer, he had more of a view to observe the two women. They had slight bags under their eyes and their skin was paler than usual. “Are you guys okay? You look tired,” Peter asked with genuine concern. Stephanie leaned forward onto her elbows, which she settled on the counter. Her neck dropped a bit and he could suddenly see the back of her collar, a small, nearly inconspicuous red stain on there. It was freshly made, the texture under the lighting still looking wet. It looked like blood, he realized. With that conclusion, the thrum of danger returned and another shiver was forced down his back. The women noticed.

Stephanie raised her eyebrow, “The question is, are you okay?” Babs’ look was no less concerned. Peter nodded shakily.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. It’s just, you got a little bit of blood on the back of your shirt. Are you hurt? Do you need first aid?” The blonde’s eyes widened a bit before her small hand clutched the back of her collar, Peter still looking at her in worry. Barbara’s jaw clenched and she plastered a fake smile onto her face.

“Steph’s fine, she just had a bit of a rough night. We’re both okay, so you don’t have to worry Peter.” He nodded reluctantly, still worried but content to take them at their word.

“Then what can I get you guys?” They rattled off their drinks and he rushed to make them, vaguely aware of the door opening to let another customer in. It wasn’t until he slid the girls’ drinks over to them did he realize that Slade had walked in. The one eyed man grinned predatorily at him before sitting down at the nearest end of the bar. Peter muttered a “be right back” to Babs and Steph before wandering over to the mercenary.

“Hey Slade.”

“Sweetheart,” the older man rumbled his greeting.

“The usual?” A short nod from the man sent Peter on his way to making an old fashioned drink for him. As he gave the man his requested beverage, Slade pointed over to the two women who were conversing softly with themselves, his one eye narrowed.

“Those two your friends?” Peter glanced at Babs and Steph and looked back at Slade, confused.

“Yeah? I mean we met like a week ago, but I guess you could call us that. Why?” Another body slumped into the chair next to Slade, slurring an order. Slade took that as a distraction for Peter and stood up.

“Because you have interesting taste in people, sweetheart.” He sauntered towards the women, his shoulders drawn tighter than Peter’s ever seen them. He watches Slade interact with the two women, watches their reactions to each other. He notices that, oddly enough, Slade is the one in the submissive position, while Stephanie and Barbara are dominant, despite their dispositions. Slade was stiff, in a combative stance while the other two were completely open, smirking and tilting their heads up at the older man. A hand snapping in front of his face brought Peter out of his thoughts.

“Hey, twink!” The man who slumped next to Slade sneered up at Peter from his position over the counter, “I told you to get me a fuckin’ drink,” he slurred loudly enough to catch the attention of those nearby. Slade, Steph and Babs turn their attention towards them.

“I’m right on it, Mr. Stanley,” Peter said politely, his hands starting to sweat, “can you repeat your order again?” The man squinted up at him for a moment, straightened up in this seat, lifted his hand and slapped Peter straight across the face. Being Spider Man, he saw it coming straight away, but had the forethought to remember not to draw much attention to himself. He tried to make it seem like the hit actually affected him a bit. So he stumbled off to the side, falling down in the process and watched as Slade stormed over to the man and proceeded to punch the drunk, living daylights out of the man. Steph and Babs went to the side of the bar where the small door separating the bar and the rest of the room was and rushed over to Peter, helping to straighten him up.

“You good Petey?” Babs voice was soft as if afraid he would spook like a cornered animal. He nodded distractedly, focusing on Slade who was now shaking the drunk man. He was knocked out instantly by the punch. He pushed himself up, looking at the other two who stood up with him. Slade noticed movement in his peripheral vision, his gaze snapping over to Peter in an instant.

“You okay, sweetheart?” The look of Peter’s reddened cheek made Slade clench his teeth.

“I’m fine, Slade,” he replied before pointing at the man that was limp in the mercenary’s arms, “let him go.” Slade blinked and looked at the man, sneering and releasing him, letting him hit the floor with a loud thump.

“With pleasure,” he smirked as Peter pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. 'Typical Slade,' Peter thought. Only God knows how many fights that man gets into.

“Just,” Peter leaned over the counter and took note of the unconscious male, his eye well on its way to swelling to the size of a golf ball, “wait here while I go get my manager.” The brown haired boy sighed in suffering as he headed toward the back of the bar to get his manager who would no doubt fire him soon for this.

‘Fucking Parker Luck,’ he thought bitterly.

Unawares to Peter, Stephanie and Barbara joined Slade in watching over the knocked out patron, looking down at him as if he were scum underneath their shoes. Stephanie glanced at Slade, who, even though he wasn’t looking at her, knew that she required his attention. Fully aware that he was listening, Steph said,

“I assume that you won’t struggle to say yes to this mission?” He knew exactly what she was talking about.

“No problems here, blondie. I’ll even take this case pro bono if I get first shot at him.” Slade grinned at the blonde, a ruthless intent behind his expression. Steph, who mirrored this, then turned to Babs to gage her reaction.

“Count me in,” she murmured, her tone soft but firm. She was quite disgusted by the display that negatively affected their new favorite bartender, “but you do know Dick and Tim are gonna want to know why we’re doing this.” Slade stilled at the mention of his ex, and whether or not the two women noticed it, they didn’t comment. Instead, Steph hummed.

“That may be, but I think they’ll quite like Petey.” The blonde sent Babs a knowing smirk, which Babs rolled her eyes at. Secretly, however, she agreed with her friend.

‘Yeah,’ she thought as Peter came back out, his fluffy brown hair bouncing with every step and his doe brown eyes wide, ‘they’ll definitely like him. A lot.’

Previous: Synopsis 

Next: Part 2 

[erensnubs]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑴𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒐𝒖

Colt Grice x F! Reader Dystopian AU

Chapter 2

Word Count: 1.6k

"[NAME]! AHHHH YOU'RE HERE!!" Hange screamed across the room. Your head was turning all around the bright, marble like room as you tried to find the familiar auburn head.

You whipped your head around after talking to Dr. Pyxis.

Dr. Pyxis smiled at you as he acknowledged Hange's presence and walked away. Hange was running, their hair flying with Moblit behind her muttering "sorry" and "excuse us" to the victims of their running.

They flung their arms over your shoulders and squeezed ever so tightly. Your breath hitched and reluctantly patted Hange's arms.

"My god! How have you been? You look stressed. Is Levi bothering you too much? You know you could just stay at HQ! You can live with me and it's cheaper!!" Hange muttered, burying your body into theirs.

You try to pry yourself from Hange's grasp, but they keep holding on.

"You know Levi never tells me anything right? I mean we've known each other for a while through us, I mean for God's sakes we dated! And then you're so busy writing up papers and meeting with people so it's just like I-"

Moblit grabs Hange's shoulders and pushes them away from you. He audibly sighed and buried his face with his hands.

You couldn't help but chuckle at the stark contrasts of their faces as they looked at each other.

"Hange I'm doing fine alright? And Levi's coming to the after party there's nothing wrong with him. By the way, you look ravishing," you said pretentiously with a little smirk.

Hange's face lit up, "Oh [Name], you are getting flirty. But yes thank you for the compliment."

Hange started sliding back and forth on the polished floor, posing in their velvet red suit, the coat tails swishing behind them. Their hair was down and curled at the ends, with the ends fringed with a brighter red from previous hair dyes. Hange's eyes and lips were tinted red, her overall theme and it looked messy, and rushed. Exactly the way you liked it.

Moblit smiled tiredly at you and you patted him on the back, "Moblit how are you besides sighing so much?"

"Oh fine, I just don't know how I'm going to survive this ball and the after party. I spent a good 5 hours of our evening last night, experimenting with some new tools for missions," he said nervously.

"Oh Moblit, don't stress yourself out so much. Your inventions and experiments are insightful and they truly contribute to the research. Take a break sometime," you say reassuringly, as you lecture him.

"That's exactly what I told him! I caught him doing experiments when I told him not to!" Hange said. "Lighten up for once Moblit!"

You nodded, "I agree. This ball isn't a job, it's a break for people who work their asses off like you to help save us."

"I guess…. But heyyy… aren't you and Erwin acting as dates when you're actually just pushing an agenda?" He inquired playfully.

You smirk at him, "The ball is my work time, the after party is when I loosen up."

Hange spoke up, "Speaking of which, CAN SOMEONE GET ME SOME ALCOHOL FOR ALL 3 OF US. 2 FOR ME AND 2 FOR THEM!"

You grabbed Hange by the shoulder and laughed into it, "I swear Hange you are so scary to be in public with."

They looked at you with a questioning gaze, "Well how the hell am I supposed to get wine when all the waiters and people are over there where all the rich people are? They'll come to me, not the other way around."

A dark-haired boy with green-blue eyes trudged over to Hange. Eren Yeager. Stupid little shit, you had to teach him for a while when you were training soldiers but a passionate one. Beside him was Armin Artlet, the blonde boy who was arguably one of the smartest children you've ever met.

"Here you go. The other waiters just told us to bring these to you," Eren murmured.

"Hey speak up, Yeager," you tell him.

"He-"

You looked at him again, "I'm just playing kid come here and give me a hug,"

He looked at you surprisingly and passed the glasses of champagne to Moblit and Hange before tightening his arms around you.

Eren and particularly his classmates were the only teenagers you have ever liked in your life. They were smart, determined, and knew how to goof off, and have fun. You developed a sort of parenting attitude towards them, as you watched them rise in the ranks.

Armin hesitantly wrapped your arms around you, but you pulled him closer and kissed the tops of their foreheads.

"My god how the hell did you grow? You're up to my neck now Yeager and Artlert too! What are they feeding you", you say sipping your champagne flute.

"The same thing they've been serving since we went to training camp," Eren said, snickering.

You raised your eyebrows at them, "So how's life going for you? Don't you have your special Survey Corps dance thing coming up soon? You guys excited for that?"

"Not me," Armin said reluctantly. "I don't have a date."

Eren started laughing at him, "Pffft… lame."

Armin threw a dirty look at him, "Oh shut the fuck up, you don't either."

You cross your arms and look at both of them, "The government parties aren’t all about relationships you know. It's about hanging out with your friends as well. If you really feel bad about it just go in a group together."

Armin spoke up, his mood lightening immediately, "Did you go in a group? Are you all still friends?"

You waved your hand nonchalantly, "My 1st time I didn't go, I snuck over to the underground area in the city I lived in and watched street racing with some friends. Got in trouble of course, but I got lots of money from bets. The next 2 times I did go with friends but the last time I went with-"

"Oh, we shouldn't have brought that up Dr. [Name]," Eren said apologetically.

"Oh no no no, don't feel bad I can't just keep my fiance's memory buried." You gulped at the choice of words but went on.

"He would have loved to share these stories with you. But for now, you should be hanging out with your other friends not with an old person like me. And try drinking a little," you smiled with a hint of sadness that was quickly upturned while you flashed your teeth.

Eren interjected, "You're not THAT old Dr."

"Sweetheart I am old all right. Now go I think Mikasa is waiting for you," you shoo them along with your hands and usher them back to the middle. The two boys quickly walked away back to their friends. You sighed and looked around you and realized Moblit and Hange were out of sight and Erwin was nowhere to be seen.

"[Name]."

"Oh my god, Erwin! You can't just sneak up on me like that!" You say as the blonde was literally looming over from behind you.

"Sorry but I was wondering how the papers are going. I was chatting with Mr. Zachary over there and he said he would love to sign our papers," Erwin tilted his head to the old man with the white beard and glasses.

"Doesn't he monitor the 3 parts of the government?" You asked Erwin.

He nodded, "Having him on our side would help us out a lot. Any progress for you?"

"Dr. Pyxis said he would sign. I just have to convince Nick and Nile," you rolled your eyes.

Nick believed that all the funding should go to the military police, to help protect the citizens. You have argued and counterattacked that one day there might be no people to protect, no military police to defend because the funding was put all into one place.

"AT LEAST PART OF THE FUNDING SHOULD BE PUT FOR OUR MISSIONS!" You yell at Nile.

Nile rolled his eyes, "Sorry to say this but the public might not agree. They don't care about your little missions."

"Well the PUBLIC Nile, is full of cowards who want to be protected by another set of cowards because the goddamn government doesn't know that the best place to put their money is in the Scout Regiment. They're the ones that's actually doing something," you say.

You stepped forward, "The public doesn't have an MD. The public has not spent a good chunk of their lives researching this. The public is not head of the government's esteemed research section. The public doesn't have knowledge that I do.

"Really cowards? What are you some self-righteous wannabe?"

"Oh shut the fuck up, Nile. All of you in this room are fucking cowards. People's lives have been lost just because we didn't have enough supplies and food for a group of 100 soldiers," you say and left the room.

That was 2 weeks ago and Hange and Erwin were present, and that's when you 3 decided to convince everybody to sign these papers.

Erwin nodded,"You can take a break for now, Nick and Nile are chatting up with some women."

You nodded at Erwin and parted ways. You grabbed a piece of dessert from the long dining table and leaned your back against the wall and drank more champagne. You lifted your head and tried to think of ways to convince them.

Nick was a religious man, and was one of the people who believed that the Warning was a sign from God. Maybe you could throw in a little religion, say that the money could help find out of it is really God. For Nile, just threaten the man. He was a coward at heart so that would be easy. But what if he backed out on the papers? Didn't actually mean it? What would you do then?

You hummed to yourself the possibilities, not even noticing the man standing in front of you.

"Uh, hey? You seem lost in thought."

Prev/next

[zwiezraczek]

6 + 1 Underground [Four x OC/reader] Chapter 4

SUMMARY: Sasha is a Polish girl, with a strange past. She has various skills, driving amongst others. So she becomes Eight. And you know that Four plus Four is Eight…

CHAPTER 1 - CHAPTER 2 - CHAPTER 3 - CHAPTER 4: Eight is a Troublemaker CHAPTER 5

Sasha learns that Easterners are troublemakers by nature.

WORDS: 2.6k

TAGLIST (if you want to be part of it, leave a comment! ^^) : @kingniazx​ @imjustboredso​

“A mini mission” as Four called it himself. Sasha looked at the blond man again as he casually snapped that in the middle of the meeting; nobody seemed to pick up on this, nobody was surprised. Sasha had to roll with it. She could feel Two's excitement as One explained that the next mission was held in Paris in order to gather some information, and as a French woman she couldn't hide her joy to be back in her motherland. And Paris, the city of love and pigeons as Two said herself, was an amazing city to visit when you had some time – before the mission obviously, because they had to work on everything once there.

This sounded dangerous and exciting, everything Sasha needed to make this work. She had waited for this for too long and now, only now, One was fulfilling his promise. The only thing she had to do? Drive. Drive around Paris as fast as she could, the best she could, not letting police get them. She could do that, she was Kubica for a reason. She didn't need to know what the real purpose of the mission was, One would explain later what these information were for, she only needed to know Paris in a short amount of time to be able to nail everything. And she would do it right.

One left her with Four, as the others had to prepare their own roles during the mission, Three and Two had to be sure about the passports and all the legal stuff while watching out for the men they were about to meet, One was still gathering proofs against the man he had to meet and how to get the information out of him and quickly all of this with Five's help as she looked into his family's health problems. The only reason Eight and Four were paired up was for the purpose of being effective while there, not allowing themselves an off-guard moment for the team's safety. And Four knew how important it was, and how it worked for them in Florence, just before losing Six. Something was off, and he could sense it, Six's presence still echoing in his mind as he prepared for the next mission. Because he could never get rid of Six in his own mind, Seven told him to not to because trying to forget it hurts much more than accepting, but Four's wounds were still fresh and as much as he wanted, he could not think about Six when he discussed with Eight about the plan.

“You're listening,” she asked him, tapping on a spot on the map in front of them as he only hummed. “So, if you stay on top of the Arc de Triomphe thing, you'll be able to tell me where the cops are coming from and which exit will be the best.”

“But I won't be able to climb up and down from there,” he answered, looking at her from under his hoodie.

“So you'll use stairs? Like normal people?”

“Shut up, no stairs for me,” he said, crossing his arms on his chest.

“But you'll have no other choice, you heard Two, you won't be able to jump from the middle of the Arc to another building,” her exasperation could be heard in her voice as she looked up at Two.

“I was on the top of the Duomo, I'll jump down from there too,” he stated, looking at the map now and watching the names of the streets.

“You're unbelievable, jaki glupek,” she whispered, hoping he wouldn't understand that she told he was a huge moron.

“We said no more using our mother tongues,” he said, frustrated because he couldn't understand Polish properly, for the moment. He sounded like a whining child.

“Do I look like I care?”

“Definitely should.”

“Okay, okay,” she finally agreed, putting her hands up in surrender. “So, I leave that to you for your location I just want you to be able to tell me where I can go or not, I'll mostly need a view on the Champs.”

“This whole Arc de Don't Care is a nightmare for a parkour expert!” he complained, putting his hand on the Place de l'Etoile. This location was definitely a nightmare, too wide, too open, Paris' architecture was too wide to jump from a building to another, especially in the places Sasha wanted to drive.

“Another bright idea then,” she teased, as some of her blond her fell off from her ponytail.

“Quartier Latin,” he said with the best French accent he could, with a smile on his face.

“You're joking, I won't be able to do anything from there.”

“I'm not joking, perfect place,” he assured as he came closer to her, putting a finger on the Quartier Latin. “Three can stand with a car on the Place de l'Etoile and block the police, until you go down there and I'll work my things up there.”

“You just want to see Notre Dame, don't you,” she asked, a grin on her face as he rolled his eyes.

“Just, leave it to me, I'm the expert here Eight. Trust me.”

“I'll trust you,” she promised. “I hope you won't fail your promise.”

“Never.”

They stood there, in silence, looking at the map for a long moment, Sasha trying to memorize the streets she would drive in, just because she wanted the mission to go as smoothly as she imagined it in her head. Two told her that she would take her on a small visit of Paris before the mission, but she wanted to impress the whole crew, showing that she could be useful, even more than what the could think. Her pride wanted to prove to them her worth, to show them that her fragile silhouette was only a facade, protecting her inner Kubica from being discovered. She wanted to impress more than anything.

“Don't die,” the words escaped from Four's mouth as Sasha still looked at the map. She rose her head towards him, he meticulously avoided her gaze as if it would hurt. As if he was truly hurt.

“What,” she whispered back, not truly understanding.

“I said what I said,” he couldn't repeat those words, it hurt too much. “Last time I built up a plan like this, I... We lost our driver, Six. I just don't want this to happen again,” he said, looking into her eyes now with pain, some kind of despair. Everything Sasha didn't knew he could convey through his gaze.

“I'll be fine,” she reassured him. “I'm called Kubica for a reason, Four.”

“Watch out your hand then, we never know if the curse is on you too,” he slightly joked before looking back at the map. She truly hoped he was right.

Looking up to the sky, looking up to her mother, Eight sat in front of her trailer, as usual now, her bare legs sunbathing. February, and it was so hot in here, no snow but dust, no ice but dust, no trees but dust. Nothing but dust. Her mind still healing from leaving her friends behind, leaving Marta and Piotr who became another family to her and now, now she had to build everything from scratches. Everything went well for the moment, the Ghosts being welcoming and caring, mostly Five being her anchor for the past months and Four from time to time, when they exchanged about their countries, joked about the lack of white Christmas, even listened to traditional music sometimes – when Four decided it wasn't the time to listen to The Score.

As she thought about how her life was fucked up now, she felt some shade on her legs, a small chill, goosebumps. She opened one eye to see Four, standing in front of her, his hoodie on his head and his hands in the large pockets he has. He smiled at her, as she groaned.

“Don't you see I'm in the middle of something right here,” she asked him sarcastically, protecting her eyes from the sun as she looks up at him.

“You seem extremely busy,” he emphasized. “I absolutely shouldn't disturb you to take you to this Eastern shop or whatever,” he finally mumbled, turning back as Sasha's mouth went agape.

“Fuck,” she swore when she heard Polish, “there is a fucking Polish shop right here? In the middle of this fucking desert?” Her excitement and surprise could be heard in her tone, as her eyes began to shine slightly. Four looked back at her, with a grin.

“Planning taking you there because you asked me how I managed to survive in here without real food,” he explained.

“You're an angel Four!” she exclaimed before standing up. “Wait a minute, I'm taking my sunglasses and my wallet and to the shop we go!”

“Waiting here then.”

She clapped her hands in excitement as she went in her trailer, looking for the glasses Five gave her one day as she saw her struggling with the whole sun situation, because Sasha never wore sunglasses, never really needed these. But here, everything was different. And she needed sunglasses. Her wallet in her pocket now, Four and her got to the small car the Ghosts owned, making sure that nobody saw them going out – they would deal with responsibilities later, and how unprofessional it was to go out the base a day before the travel to Paris. This escapade was everything she needed, something new and fresh as she listened to their playlists, mostly fighting over knowing whose would play now to finally switch from one playlist to the other everytime one had enough. At some point, Sasha mentioned Valentines Day, as they already were in February, and listening to The Score, and how she would offer something to her mother on this special day. Four frowned, telling her that it was a really weird tradition, to witch Sasha's answer was putting on some Tulia on the radio as Four started to apologize – for fuck's sake no more of this music, it's not weird stop it!

Four told her to stop next to a few blocks, small houses in yellow pastel and few cars. She saw it “Eastern Market”. Heaven on Earth probably. And as they stepped into the shop, the man at the counter greeted Four with a wide smile, and even a small talk, which Sasha ignored in order to explore the place, almost drooling. She saw everything, she saw deliciousness and finesse, she saw everything she missed. From pierogi to ogorki kiszone. But mostly, she saw kabanosy, these small sticks of dried meat for which she craved for days eating pizza and fries. The food of Gods. A childish smile appeared on her face as she grabbed three packs of these, Four saw everything and couldn't stop himself from laughing. She showed him her middle finger, as a simple answer and disappeared between the stalls. Overwhelmed by pure joy, she walked around the shop, gathering sweets, snacks and all the unholy things she shouldn't tell Five she had. She wasn't able to know that Sasha's diet was spiraling out right now.

Her arms charged with her treasures, she arrived to the checkout, Four already standing there with a pack of beers. The man looked at her with a knowing look and a smile. He definitely knew.

“New in here,” he asked looking at her and then at Four.

“New colleague from Poland,” Four said looking at the man with a mocking smile, “she already misses home as you can see.” Sasha rolled her eyes, not wanting to explain everything to this unknown man at all and just to enjoy her food as soon as possible.

“Always difficult to move from your homeland, young lady,” the man confirmed, reassuring her as he put her groceries into a paper bag.

“True, especially when you know nobody.”

“But you have a friend here now,” the man told her as he pointed first at Four and then himself. “Easterners are one big family, especially in exile.”

“Holly words of truth,” Four completed happily as he put the pack of beers on the counter. “Take the beers too, I'm paying the things,” he pursued as Sasha shook her head in disagreement. “C'mon, don't do that to me, I just want to pay: no biggie!”

“... Fine,” she finally whispered, not wanting to put on a scene.

“You're lucky to have a friend like Iwan, young lady,” the man said winking at Sasha, and Sasha looked at Four, a bit dazzled, not understanding what had just happened and then, the man's question blew her mind: “and what's your name, young lady?”

“Malgorzata,” the name rolled on her tongue, her mother's name. She gathered all the remaining energy in her mind, every ounce of conviction into this: she became Malgorzata for a moment. “Yes, Iwan is really a great friend,” she then whispered, trying to process the information.

The man winked looking at Four as he just sighed and rolled his eyes before putting some money on the counter, Sasha thanked the man and they went out the shop. Her mind still blown by what happened in front of her, their names... Four would never be that stupid, right?

“Your name's Iwan,” she asked him, as he carried the groceries and the beer pack in his hands. He turned around to face her, sighing.

“If your name's Malgorzata then my name's Iwan,” he said, readjusting quickly what he was carrying. “Nice evasive reply by the way.”

“Had to find something that sounded as Polish as possible,” she said, putting her hands in her short's pockets.

“Nice. I mostly go by Iwan when I'm out here, but I have many other names: the perk of being dead,” he concluded with a warm tone until they reached the car and she opened the trunk for him. “You can have as many personalities as you wish. Just ask Three for help, he's our best creator out here.”

“Three,” she repeated, a bit surprised.

“Yeah, he'll find you a fancy name, fancy props, fancy everything. He's more of our disguise expert than a hitman,” he admitted as he closed the trunk. “I saw him and Two wearing wigs and nose prosthetic in Vegas, outrageously weird. But nobody caught them.”

“I can't wait to see what he prepared for the mission in Paris then,” she chuckled, already having a few things in mind when they'll be back at the base. She needed to have a look.

“You're absolutely not ready, nobody is. I'm usually out of the disguise thing because I'm mostly in the air so... Oh yeah,” he snapped out of the blue, “be ready to hear him practicing French in his mic, he always practices the language of the country we're in.”

“Got it.”

“And he'll want to impress Two, so sometimes horny talks,” he warned her with a little smile, “in Hong Kong he wasn't in best shape and wanted to fuck Two in the elevator.”

“No shit,” she said, almost not surprised about it. “I'm sure Two wanted to kill him.”

“You're absolutely right.”

“Well, let's go before we get in serious troubles with One,” Sasha concluded, putting her hand on the back of the car.

“I'm the troublemaker in this team, get used to it,” he replied, laughing a bit as he went up the front part of the car.

“You met another troublemaker Four, twice as troublesome as you,” she teased him still standing behind.

“We'll see that in Paris.”

Yes, they would see.

[clumsybookworm18]

and my burden to bear is a love (i can’t carry anymore) | pt.6

ao3 | Moodboard | parts: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5

Summary: Josh awakens after dawn and makes an upsetting discovery.

A/N: This is me trying to write a simple flashback scene that ended up turning into a whole chapter and a bunch of ANGST™

 Enjoy :)

Josh didn’t remember how he got here.

One moment he was in the mines. The next, he was walking through the station’s doors. The precinct was crawling with activity. Phones continuously ringing, rangers coming in and out, even a few EMTs walked in. For the life of him Josh couldn’t remember how he got here. Everything was so fuzzy. 

The mines... He’d been in the mines with Mike. They were supposed to regroup with Sam and the others at the lodge. But he doesn’t remember getting out of the mines… He followed Mike. He saw a stranger's body hanging on a hook. He jumped into the freezing water. And then… and then… and then what?

Josh peered down at himself. His- the Psycho’s- overalls had been replaced by black clothes. His hands weren’t dirty anymore. His face no longer hurt. What happened? Did he make it out? Had the others?

He approached the man sitting in the front desk. Josh cleared his throat. “Excuse me.” 

The man didn’t look up.

“Uh excuse me,” he repeats a little more louder. The man still didn’t look up.

Okay, rude. “What are you, deaf? Hellooo?”

Still not looking at him.

“Listen pal, I just had one of the worst nights of my life so if you could help me out here, that’ll be fucking swell.”

But the man kept scribbling some forms on the desk and didn’t answer him. 

Oh, fuck this.

His eyes flickered towards the open door where an officer just came out of. Since the man in the front desk was still ignoring him, Josh saw no fault in walking in. Nobody stopped him as he made his way through the hallway, nobody acknowledged him. 

For a moment, Josh wondered if this was another of his hallucinations, but it didn’t feel like one. Usually his hallucinations involved accusations or pointed fingers at him. Here, there was nobody telling him what a piece of shit he was, instead they were just ignoring him. 

“Okay…” he murmured to himself. “This is freaking me the fuck out.”

Even with all the activity, there was a preternatural quiet- like an omen. Josh kept walking, ignoring the trepidation that tugged inside him. The flutter of uneasiness that grew as he slowly treaded farther. He took a turn and-

There she was. Sitting alone in the hallway, was Sam, her fingers clutching the blanket thrown around her shoulders. 

“Sam,” he breathes, relieved to see a familiar face.

He doesn’t hesitate to approach her but she doesn’t look up, not even when he’s standing right in front of her. Josh frowns, studying her in the wan light, his eyes going to the blood smeared across her forehead and her cheek. She looked like she’d been to hell and back. “Sam.”

She didn’t answer. He grew more nervous with every passing second of silence. Josh knew he’d fucked up, that he and his friends weren’t on the best terms at the moment but Sam wasn’t one to ignore him for the sake of it. Especially at a time like this. Josh kneeled before her, her unseeing eyes making him uneasy. This wasn’t the same girl he saw in the mines. 

Something was wrong.

“Sammy?” He raised a hand to brush a stray lock of hair from her face only for it to go through her. Josh stumbled back, falling on his ass. 

Something was very wrong. 

He touched his chest, his face, but they felt solid. He felt a sinking dread as he reached out, as he tried to touch Sam again but his hand went straight through. 

What. The. Fuck.

“Samantha Giddings?” 

They both looked up to see a cop approaching. Josh didn’t react fast enough, didn’t have time to move away before the man walked right through him. He doesn’t feel it, not physically, but the reality of the situation arrowed into him. 

No. No way this was happening. Not to him. This had to be some mistake, he couldn’t… he wasn’t...

Dead.

Josh’s ears were ringing. No one can see him, no one could hear him, no one could touch him. Shit, someone just walked through him like he was nothing... 

The cop said something. Josh couldn’t hear him. His eyes went to Sam again. She was being led to a door labeled as Interview Room 1. He called her name in a hoarse whisper. 

Look back. Please.

She didn’t.

***

Rain fell without mercy as Josh walked upon rows and rows of gravestones, the sound of water hitting stone growing louder with every step he took. The cemetery was empty, something he didn’t find surprising, considering that not many people liked to spend their time among the resting dead. 

After that godawful funeral that put his memory to shame, Josh didn’t know where else to go. Didn’t know what else to do. Since there was no way in hell he was going back to the manor (he had already haunted those halls long enough), he’d ended up making the graveyard his new lair. Josh was still getting used to the idea of being dead when he wasn’t actually gone. Not completely. And he found the grim ambiance of it all a perfect fit for his new predicament. 

He finally reached the miniature city of mausoleums, striding his way across the sea of white marble to enter what had been appointed as his permanent residence. It had grown dark inside thanks to the stormy weather, the only light in the room coming from the candles placed on the small altar and the entryway. 

The Washington mausoleum was a big, black block of granite with stained glass windows and arched bronze doors, placed on the outskirts of the cemetery with the ominous Washington supported by roman columns. Posh. Lofty. A bit Gothic. Pretty hard to miss. 

What can he say, his family had a dramatic flair. Himself included.  

For the past few days, he’d been prowling around the grounds, searching for signs of any other ghosts, lost souls, anything at all. Something that indicated that he wasn’t alone on this other side. And the cemetery seemed like the perfect scenario for wandering spirits, with its eerie atmosphere, and the obscure mist surrounding the graves. Makes perfect sense that it would be haunted. Right?

Yeah, no. 

So far there have been no sightings of anything. Zero. Zilch. No other ghosts or spirits. No guardian angel to lead him up. No fiendish demons to lure him down. Not even the Grim Reaper himself. Nothing. He was truly alone on this ghostly plane. 

So Josh had been biding his time, lingering close to his crypt. Waiting for any signs or answers because something had to give. Fate, God, Death or whatever the fuck is supposed to be in charge couldn’t just leave him here. Stranded.  

The echo of footsteps alerted him to a presence. Josh instantly recognized the gait of the person striding his way. The heels of her shoes clicked against the polished granite floor, drowning the sound of the drizzle beating against the windowpanes. 

She hadn’t been to the funeral. Everybody else had gone. Chris. Ash. Mike. Even Emily. But not Sam. So nobody could really blame him for being surprised when she showed up to his family’s mausoleum out of the fucking blue. That she even showed up at all. 

She looked so tired. Even in the faint light he could see the smudged purple beneath her eyes, that familiar haunted look brought by a night of nightmares. He wanted to believe he was wrong, that this couldn’t be her. But it was. Josh was surprised to see how much she’d changed in such a short time. 

Sam stopped in front of the joint grave beside his and murmured something he didn’t quite catch, before hesitantly moving to his own. She ran a tentative hand over his name engraved on the stone. Josh didn’t like it. It felt so… final. Well, as final as it could get, since apparently death wasn’t as permanent as he would’ve liked it to be. 

Two tears slid down her face. Swift and cold. She didn’t wipe them away. “You lied to me.”

He went to stand next to her. “As much as I want to apologize, you can’t hear me,” he offers with a sad smile, looking at her face glowing in the dim light of the candles, her skin still glittering with rain. “So I won’t.” 

“I am so angry with you. Furious,” she went on, unaware of the ghost at her side, her eyes desolate. “But for the most part I’m just tired. Tired of racking my brain, of trying to understand why, and I just-” The snag on the words was like a blow to his intangible gut. Sam puts her hands on her face, running them up through her wet hair. “Fuck, I don’t even know what I’m doing here. It’s not like you can hear me or anything.”

“Hey, hey. Don’t.” He cups her face between his hands, trying to wipe away the tears. The corners of his mouth turned down when he couldn’t. “Don’t say that. I’m right here.”

He scans her eyes, her face, looking… What was he looking for? Some sign of recognition? And if so, was he able to handle Sam’s reaction? Would she still be saying the things she’s saying now? Would she recoil at the sight of him? Would she be scared? Or would she be angry? 

He drops his hands. If Josh were alive, she would hate him. He knows that much. 

But her face didn’t change. Her eyes were still liquid, somber, lost. “You know I was thinking about what I last said to you,” she said, her voice quiet and loud at the same time in the silent mausoleum. “‘Josh, do you have the key for the cable car.’ God, I was so stupid…. All I was thinking about was getting us out of that mountain, you know? I didn’t think about saying goodbye- didn’t think I needed to. You were supposed to come back with us.”

He remembers her urgent expression, clear in the darkness of the mines. The light of her headband shining brightly on his filthy face. Her cold, bloodied hands brushing his palm, her touch brief but soft as he handed the key. Her voice, somehow still composed, even after everything she had gone through, as she and Mike planned their escape while he uselessly stood on the sidelines. The quick glance she gave him before she climbed away.

Sam took a shuddering breath, her voice turned unsteady. “I know you were hurting. That you lost your sisters, that  your parents became more distant than they usually were, that you pushed everyone away but you had me… You had me. I only hoped that you saw that through this mess.” 

Josh doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to say. Not like it would matter anyways. So he only stands frozen in place as she walks out of the mausoleum, the rain still beats outside. 

Later that night, he finds himself staring up at Sam’s bedroom window like he had done so many times before. Only this time, the lights were off. 

***

Josh stays around her after that. 

The days came and went, and Sammy seemed unaware of the time passing. She mostly stayed in her room, not getting out of bed, refusing to eat, not answering any of her texts or calls. What little time she managed to sleep, she awoke gasping and shaking. The liveliness that lived inside her now quiet. A static that made him uneasy.  Everything about her was now static. 

She was a ghost. Just like him. 

Josh has stopped trying to make sense of it. He was dead and he couldn’t do anything about it. Instead, he spends his time trying to communicate with Sam, trying to let her know he was still there. But it’s proving to be difficult, especially when she doesn’t care about anything. She couldn’t hear him, no matter how loud he talked. He tweaks and moves some stuff here and there but she doesn’t pay any mind to it. Josh doesn’t bother to try touching her again, not wanting to see his hands go through her again. 

It was hard to see her like this. But Sam was strong. She could survive this. She could survive anything. 

Josh didn’t leave- he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. When he needed someone, Sam had been there. Month after month, Sam had been there for him. Even when he pushed everyone away, couldn’t bring himself to care about anything, Sam hadn’t given up on him. 

And Josh wouldn’t give up on her.  

***

She searches for him in the dead of night. Puzzling, since he was the root of many of her nightmares and yet she wakes up coated in cold sweat, her hand palming what used to be his side of the bed, searching for the familiar heat of his body. Hoping that her nightmares were just nightmares, and not the cold, harsh truth. But she could never forget for long. Inevitably, she relieves her grief all over again when she finds nothing but frigid sheets and emptiness. 

Sam adds it up to the fact she had gotten used to sleeping next to him, to the codependency they both developed  the last year (even though deep down she knows it was more than that- for her at least). A habit, she tells herself. And habits die hard. 

But she can’t help but feel that his presence was still there with her, hiding in the shadows. 

***

One afternoon Sam picks up her sketchbook. The one he gave her for her 19th birthday- the last one they celebrated together. She stared at it for a long time. Long enough that Josh was convinced she might throw it out in the trash or even burn it. But to his surprise, she flipped it open, flashing through the pages with enough agility that he couldn’t catch a glimpse of her older drawings, as if she herself didn’t want to see them either, until she settled on a blank sheet. 

Mindlessly grabbing a pencil, she started sketching, brows furrowed and hand gliding through the page forming unsure lines that turned into rough curves that turned into confident shapes, transforming into something. Josh looked over her shoulder and-

Huh. 

She had captured its cloudy predatory gaze, all of the sharp teeth and sharp claws, with its long limbs curved, the Wendigo looked ready to strike out of the page. Of all the things she could’ve drawn, she drew that. Don’t get him wrong, he was all in for the weird and creepy shit, but Sam? Trying to get her to watch a scary movie was a trial in itself. 

Sam doesn’t stop to take it in. No, she passed that page and started doing another sketch. Then another. And another. Before they both knew it, it was already dark out and Sam had spent most of her day doing something other than moping.  

***

The creepy drawings became a thing. Not that Josh was complaining. Her coping mechanisms were a hell lot better than his, that’s for sure. 

In a matter of days, Sam had turned her room into a makeshift art studio. An easel beside the window. Paintbrushes in glass jars. Charcoal stained finger prints. She’d dropped out of all of her classes and had nothing else to do but paint and draw. Channeling all of her pain, sadness, and frustration into her art. Josh lingered by her side as she poured her heart out, filling white sheets with mountains and darkness, with monsters and death. It was terrifying… he loved it. 

Sam had always downplayed her artistic skills, something Josh never understood. Sam was an artist, had always been. He’d seen it from something as simple as her nails, over to the rare occasions she’s shown him some of her drawings, either of a landscape she saw during one of her hikes, or a quick sketch of one of his sisters doing a silly pose (Beth) or staring off with a dreamy look on her face (Hannah). Hell, he was pretty sure she was the one that had helped Hannah design her tattoo. When he’d ask, she’d always shrugged it off with an It’s just a hobby. 

Josh knew, even if he was stuck on his own personal hell, that Sam was gonna be alright. 

Tags: @xmxisxforxmaybe​

Anyone who wishes to be tagged can let me know! 

[breadcaaat]

part four

Jeongguk x hybrid!reader

| part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

Words: 3.5k

Genre: action, fluff, eventual smut if i’m brave enough??

Warnings: nudity (again,) blood!!, violence, foul language

“You what, kid? You have three jobs already. Take this and you won’t have any time for sleeping, eating… anything not-working. Seriously, what’s up?”

Jeongguk fidgeted, “I, I need the money.”

Yoongi spat his cigarette butt onto the pavement and crushed it with one hard bootheel, wondering out loud what the hell he’s spending all his money on with a growl. Hookers? Cocaine? Clothes? Food? Probably food. Jeongguk doesn’t have a bad bone in his body. 

He wiped at his lips and thought about it. It’d be nice to have him around, and it’d be good to keep an eye on him. He could also force the kid (not that he wasn’t more than four years older, cough) to take a nap every once in a while, pay him some bonuses so he gets out of that nasty convenience store. 

Thing was, he was already at full staff except for a few shifts, and those weren’t ones he wanted the kid working. Gloss may be a barbershop by day - and a good one, dammit - but at night it served as a tattoo parlor, which was, frankly, illegal since he wasn’t a “licensed medical practitioner.” Those were the times he had shifts open. 

He sighed and glanced over at Jeongguk. Yoongi had met him about a year ago when the kid had walked in one day with a too-shaggy bowl cut asking to borrow a pair of scissors. He’d lent them, curious as to what Jeongguk would do, until the kid walked outside and tried to cut his bangs so he could see properly for work. No mirror. Kitchen scissors. Yoongi had just about had an aneurysm. He’d snatched away the scissors, dragged Jeongguk inside, and made him sit through a proper haircut. The kid had complained the whole time, too, trying to sneak away when he wasn’t looking and moaning about not being able to afford these things, to which Yoongi had sat him back down with a glare and continued each time.

“I’m not charging you jack shit. Sit down. Next time your hair gets like this come back here but for God’s sake don’t take a pair of kitchen scissors to it again.”

Since then, Jeongguk had dropped by every so often - delivering breakfast, finishing the odd task here and there, light drinking on his days off. He was endearing. Sweet. Hard-working. Undeserving of all the shit this city had put him through but hey, those were the motions.

“When are you free?”

Jeongguk visibly deflated in relief. “Saturday, Tuesday, and Friday night, and then all day Sunday.”

“Is Sunday your day off normally?”

Jeongguk puckered his lips, not wanting to say yes but physically incapable of telling a lie. Yoongi huffed.

“Jesus, okay. Keep Sunday. Come in on the other three an hour after the shift before it ends, I don’t really care. Does blood make you squeamish?”

“How often is there blood to see in a barbershop?”

“You know what the night shifts are, Jeongguk.”

“Oh. Oh! The tattoo thing?” Yoongi nodded, and he continued. “No, doesn’t bother me.” Yoongi squinted at him until he broke. “Not that much,” he corrected. 

“Good. Start whenever, and I’ll officially employ you.”

“... No interview?”

“Do you want to be interviewed?”

“Not particularly.”

“Then congrats,” he patted Jeongguk on the back as he passed him to head back inside Gloss, “ - you��ve got the job.” The bells jingled behind him as he exited that conversation, shaking his head. God, he really was worried about him. It’s not like Yoongi was particularly good at remembering to take care of himself - there’ve been plenty of times he’s accidentally not slept for a couple days or forgotten a few meals. It’s just different with Jungkook, because, well, it’s Jungkook. Yoongi can piss on the temple that’s his body all he wants because it’s his, but Jungkook needs to take care of himself. He’s got an ambiguous future full of possibilities ahead of him, and he’s still growing.

“I’m forcing him to take a nap when he comes in,” he mumbles to himself, sliding behind the front desk to check when his next appointment is.

“I want a new name.”

Jeongguk and Stripes were both lounging that night on opposite sides of the bed, Jeongguk exhausted after two long shifts at the breakfast place and the moving company and Stripes restless from staying inside all day since she didn’t have clothes of her own. Jeongguk was going to try and get some hand-me-downs from Miyun, he just needed a proper excuse to not sound like a weirdo. Until then, she was stuck here in her boredom.

He shuffled, turning on his side to look at her. “Why?”

“I don’t like mine. I want a new one.”

“Well,” he scratched at the side of his nose. “What do you want your name to be?”

She paused, tracing the leather in her hands. When she’d discovered the collar that Jeongguk had salvaged on his kitchen table, she’d been admittedly surprised. Since then she’d been holding and thinking about it, reflecting on her past experiences with it.

Her thumb brushed across the tag, a small brass plate bolted into the front of the collar. On it, it had her name, breed, label as a cagedog, and seller.

“Stripes”

CAGEDOG

Tiger - 牧羊犬

Stripes. She hadn’t realized how much she hated being called that until she was looking at the letters, tracing their place on the shackle that’d kept her a slave for the past three years. Her brushing paused. Stripes was a shackle too.

He grunted questioningly, and she sighed, chucking the collar away somewhere near the balcony. “I’m not sure. Just… not Stripes. Only bad people have called me that.”

He nodded, grabbing his phone from the bed stand.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Looking up one of those baby-naming sites. Let’s start by nationality and go from there, yeah?”

She smiled faintly, scooting over a bit. They weren’t exactly comfortable enough with each other to touch in any sense.

“Alright,” he mumbled. “Any, uh, letter you want?”

She shook her head.

“Let’s just browse, I guess.” So, they did, moving through the alphabet and reading the odd one off here and there. It was probably the most comfortable they’d been with each other since meeting (he hadn’t completely forgotten the restaurant but figured that her saving his life was proper moral retribution) though by no means was it chummy. Just… not anxious.

It’s a start, they thought. Seemed the last week was full of new beginnings.

His scrolling thumb paused, and he tapped at a name thoughtfully. “... What about Y/N?”

Y/N. 

Her tail thumped against the duvet and she smiled a bit. Y/N. That name felt like home. “You like that?” he asked. She nodded, then yawned and turned over onto her stomach. He plugged the phone back in and set it aside.

“Alright. Goodnight Y/N.”

She didn't answer verbally, but gingerly let her tail brush his belly like a thankful pat on the shoulder. She's a lot sweeter than she looks, he thought, and fell asleep.

Despite all the exhaustion taking care of another human being cost him, Jeongguk was happy to see changes in Y/N’s attitude and appearance. They were still a little skittish around each other - hell, the way they’d met was so fucking strange in retrospect - but there were moments where things were almost domestic. Little things. Like the way he woke up more often than not with a tail brushing his waist or a finger twisted in the strings of his hoodies. The manner in which whenever he made or brought home food she gravitated towards it with the end of her nose twitching and gleaming eyes. Like how after baths, she’d sidle up to him and stare until he got the message and blow-dried her hair for her, which was both strange and weirdly cute. Her voice had also polished up, and she could speak normally without the no-speak husk to it. These were good days, of course; on others she’d stay on the other side of the room, or escape to the roof, or hide in the bath for a while, speaking very little. More and more good days happened the longer she stayed.

It was as if once she deemed him not-a-threat, all the hostility faded away. He was able to see it now - the bloody, ruthless, tiger-girl act - for what it had been: a survival tactic. She filled him in here and there on how her world had been, and it sounded like it had been honestly horrible.

“Past three years ago, I don’t remember anything.”

“Wait - none of your childhood? All gone?”

“All gone. My life just kind of started up then, and I was living… living a lucid dream. In and out, here and there. This lab, that owner. They groomed me and turned me into something pretty, then sold me to nasty people as a pet.”

“A pet?”

“Mhm. They kept trying to train me - yeah, I see you know what I mean - but I was so angry, it was all I knew. I hurt one of them really bad and got sold off again, a year in, to a cagedogger society. There I was passed around by wealthy cagedoggers until the trade in the ramen shop, when I escaped. I’m the first I’ve ever known to do it. Those men were the poorest and sloppiest of the bunch.”

Hearing all this helped him understand her and her world better, bit by bit, and also offered some surprising closure to the trauma he’d been subjected to in the ramen shop. Has he completely forgotten it? No. Does he not get queasy at the sight of blood anymore? Also no. But it’s so much easier to cope with seeing people die when they’re villains.

Beyond all this, he also found that she had different needs and attitudes decidedly inhuman. Example: the scratching. Two weeks in, Jeongguk had woken up one night to hear her claws picking at the carpet as she stretched, and had woken up to see it all stringy and ruined. He’d scolded her lightly - not really knowing if they were close enough for him to really scold her without her taking off - until she’d explained that she needed to. Stretching, grooming, scent-marking. All very inhuman traits that put him in a bit of a daze. Minutes after, they were meandering over to a pet shop to buy scratch posts. Scratch posts.

There was other stuff, too; the nesting, where she’d pile up used clothes and blankets onto their bed until she deemed it perfect. The midnight walks were a thing too. She’d clamber out the balcony and into the alley to disappear for an hour or two, rejoining him later after a new change of clothes.

Then, at three weeks: play-hunting. It’d scared the shit out of him the first time she’d popped up behind him, tackled him to the ground, and nipped at his ear with a little growl, but he was at a point now where he’d developed a sharp ear for his 6 o’clock. Now when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle he’d whip around and catch her as she pounced. All she needed was a good wrestle here and there to not go stir-crazy, which he was fine with. The general sense of cultural modesty and personal space-bubble he’d grown up with was quickly broken down the more they lived together; bed, couch, kitchen, bathroom. Nudity didn’t bother him so much anymore, which was a surprising development, especially since she was a woman.

There were downsides to living together, though. He’s fucking exhausted. All the time. A few days ago he’d quit his night job at the convenience store and replaced all those shifts at Gloss, helping Yoongi with the shop. He had the suspicion that his hyung was paying him more than the other staff at his level, but he was too tired to complain for the sake of his pride and work ethic. He’d take what he could get. Plus, it was easy work. Keep the place clean, set up some gear, hand him some tools as he worked. There was the whole illegal aspect of it, but honestly - tattoo shops weren’t a major concern for the police force and so Gloss was left alone.

Right now, that’s where he was: sitting on a stool next to Yoongi as he prepared to tattoo matching symbols on a giggly couple, the two girls high on the thrill of doing something outside their parents’ say. Yoongi didn’t seem either irritated or amused; he was impassive, quiet, and growly. Whatever he was feeling, it was completely up to those around him to interpret. It made Jungkook sleepy.

“Antiseptic.” Yoongi set his hand out, and Jeongguk handed a cotton pad of it over. Having watched Yoongi’s process a couple times in the last week and a half, he no longer got nauseous over it. It was actually really interesting. Yoongi would speak up every so often to explain what he was doing, the instinct to pass on what he knew to his younger friend impossible to overcome at times.

Yoongi tossed the pad away into the trash can, quietly double-checking with the girl on the table that the design stencil was what she wanted. Jeongguk prepared to pass him the trimmers as the girl replied with a near breathless Yeah, it’s perfect. Cue a shy little kiss between her and her girlfriend, which made Jeongguk smile a little.

Yoongi trimmed away the body hair where the tattoo would go quickly and efficiently, having practiced this so many times. (Jeongguk had learned that the first tattoo Yoongi ever did was when he was fourteen. Fourteen.)

“Review,” Yoongi drawled in a voice only for Jeongguk to hear, and he ducked down to whisper an answer back.

“Antiseptic to disinfect so she doesn’t get an infection and shave to clear space. And so it heals right.”

“Good.”

Jeongguk preened, sitting back straight.

Next, the stencil. The girls both seemed to hold their breath as Yoongi applied it, and giggled as it was revealed. That made Yoongi smile, faintly; he liked seeing that there were little pieces of the world still naive and innocent as they should be. He hoped these girls lasted despite the knowledge that they’d probably have the typical couple’s dopamine drop in a few months and book it in opposite directions.

The rest of the process was a bit harder to learn and Jeongguk hadn’t quite gotten it nailed down yet, but basically Yoongi would rub in an ointment to help with the process and then begin tattooing, starting with the stencil outline and moving on to color when that was finished. Then there were little finesses to the technique that couldn’t be outlined in a manual, only watched.

So Jeongguk watched.

Here and there he’d pass Yoongi a tool or take a sip of coffee. Twenty minutes passed of this, with the girls cuddling, Yoongi buzzing away, and Jeongguk watching the whole thing.

This is so much better than the convenience store. A headache twinged to life behind his eyebrows and he rubbed at it. Not as good as a full night’s sleep though.

The walk home that night felt exactly like the one when he fell in the river - so exhausted he felt like he was dragging his feet through molasses and eyes dripping shut in the same manner. In fact, all the nights in the past two weeks had felt this way. With his new work schedule he was - arguably - less bored but confoundedly more tired. It was easy to blame Y/N for not working, in his head, but he knew it was wrong to. How could he? There’s no way she could find a job anywhere without being turned away as a freak body modder or cosplayer or whatever the fuck else.

Why is it nobody’s heard about people like her? The cagedoggers? The labs?  It was puzzling, disturbing thought. It made Jeongguk realize just how little the public knew about what happened in organized crime, and it made him feel like they’d all been fooled into thinking they knew anything at all. We know so little. He felt smaller now. The darkness in the streets chilled him just a bit more than usual.

He made sure to walk with a hand on the bridge railing.

The jingle of his keys was the only noise in the apartment building’s hall at this time of night, some time past three. He was woozy, drowsy, and some other adjective for fucking exhausted to the point of mania…

… And wide-eyed fucking awake the moment he stepped inside.

The scene: a wide-open balcony window, a bloodied porch. Red footsteps leading to the bathroom. A crumpled backpack, and next to it, a similarly crumpled pile of clothes. Steam rolling from the bathroom. The sound of scrubbing.

“Y/N?” he asked timidly, scolding himself when his voice shook.

The scrubbing stopped. A sniff.

Jeongguk crept in timidly, his hands shaking. The front door seemed so loud as it clicked shut. He called her name again, hating the way his voice shook. The smell of blood was making his stomach turn.

He peered into the bathroom and met her eyes, already looking up at him.

She was sitting in the bathtub, stripped to the skin and blushing all over from the heat of the water. A flimsy washcloth was gripped in her hand, frayed in places from still-extended claws. Her ears flicked back and her eyes widened, smelling his growing dread. It rolled off him in waves. She could smell his adrenaline.

“I…��� The need to explain herself was overbearing, but what could she say?

“Who was it?” he asked quietly. Who died this time?

She dipped the cloth back into the rosy hot water, dragging it over her shoulders. She wouldn’t look at him.

“Y/N.” He growled. He could feel something rising in him - anger maybe? A sense of betrayal? He’d thought and trusted that the vicious tiger girl act was over, but…

“A man and his wife, then another guy,” she murmured, and his stomach dropped. She moved on to explain quickly before he kicked her out.

“I’ve been looking in the past few weeks for all the places I remember being owned in, and found one of the auction centers. I was just going to watch, I promise - I…” She looked up at him then, swallowed. “I just wanted to know. Know more. Figure out why people would own other people and the plan was to go in, check it out, and then leave without ever being seen and I would’ve but then this boy stepped up onto the block - I’m talking a boy, Jeongguk. He couldn’t have been older than eight. This foreign couple bid for him and I was so scared for him and angry. He was… the youngest I’ve ever seen.”

She was silent for a moment, and his posture softened. He didn’t know that kids were ever a part of this, not that that made the situation any more or less horrendous than it was, but… kids.

Her eyebrows knitted suddenly and she plunged the washcloth back into the water, dragging another wave of suds across her neck and shoulders.

“I haven’t told you before but we’re not born like this. I’m sure we start out human. I don’t know the tools they use or the people that do it but they turn us into these things - these hybrids - and then they wipe our memory. Blank slate. I woke up one day with no memory of whatever life I’d lived before and…” she pauses, eyes drooping and ears flattening. “I had claws. Ears. A tail - and my eyes felt wrong to look at in a mirror even though I don’t remember what they used to look like. I didn’t even speak Korean. I can’t begin to describe what that’s like Jeongguk. So for a kid…” She swallowed hard, eyes blurring. Jeongguk found himself softening, chest aching.

“I was just so full of… I don’t know. It felt like regret, but for the kid. Regret that he’s gonna be like me and the rest of the pets. So I killed his buyers. Ripped their rib cages open and hung a guard with the wife’s intestines, from the rafters.”

There was silence for a few minutes. Rolling steam. Rusty blood. The fridge hummed in the room behind him.

“And the kid?” Jeongguk found himself asking before he could filter.

Y/N dunked her head under the water and scrubbed at the blood matting her hair down, ears be damned, then emerged with a slosh of water that seemed so incredibly loud.

“Don’t know. They took him into a back room and I ran away.”

A/N: i’m trying to keep an update schedule, once a week but :/ keep the comments comin!! i live off validation !! !

Taglist:@feed-my-geek-soul @starryannaaa @not-novoa @astronomyturtle @anoushe01 @seokchella @dinorahrodriguez

Taglist glitches: @infiressnct

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, here is a list of amazing bottom Louis fics where Harry is really supportive of Louis. We hope you enjoy. Happy reading!

1) I’m Broken, Do You Hear Me? | Explicit | 6957 words

Louis starts acting weird and distant around Harry, and it takes Harry a little while to put together what’s wrong. When he finally does, he’s determined to help Louis see just how much he loves every part of him.

2) Something To Prove | Explicit | 9425 words

Louis is the first and only omega to work at Red Valley Medical Center. Despite being more than qualified, he still faces prejudice for his career choice everyday. From patients refusing his treatment to condescending alpha doctors intervening with his work, practicing medicine in Boston is more challenging than Louis had ever thought it would be.

3) Come A Little Closer | Explicit | 9867 words

Louis puts on lingerie. It's not, like, a thing.

4) Every Time That You Get Undressed (I Hear Symphonies In My Head) | Explicit | 12009 words

An AU in which Harry is the typical frat boy who doesn't believe in love but falls for the insecure mess that is Louis.

5) Doesn't Have To Be A Real Thing | Explicit | 12532 words

In which Harry helps Louis get over his ex and it kind of becomes a regular thing. It’s totally casual – they have an understanding. But what happens to Harry when Nick reappears in Louis’ life? 

6) Maybe, Baby | Mature | 16004 words

Louis runs away. Harry finds him.

7) (Quiet Like A Fight) Fingers Laced Together | Mature | 17480 word

Note: This fic doesn’t have any actual sex scenes, but the mentions are all BL and it’s kitten Louis so we’re including it anyway.

The one where Harry is gifted a hybrid and it’s a whole new world for the both of them.

8) Force Of Nature | Mature | 25672 words

Louis is a shy, young musician who doesn't want to go to Harvard.

Harry is a confident, second year athlete who likes to have a good time.

When their paths cross while their families are vacationing at the same lake resort, what begins as a summer of fun becomes a defining journey that might just change everything.

9) Brooklyn Saw Me | Explicit | 28537 words

In the cold and unforgiving city of New York, Louis doesn't have a home and Harry wants to give him one. But as their heartstrings become increasingly intertwined, and the snow continues to fall, home is getting harder and harder to find. 

10) Eventide Intrigue | Explicit | 40275 words

Perrie casually asks to paint Louis' nails one night when she, Louis, Harry, and Zayn are all hanging out together. Louis is unsure about but finds himself going along with it.

Louis soon realizes he really loves the way the nail polish looks on him. It makes him feel pretty and delicate. He can't stop running his thumbs over the smooth glossy surface of his nails.

But these feeling don't come without a flood of insecurity and anxiety. Harry of course is as supportive as ever, but Louis soon finds himself needing more.

11) For the Sake of Propriety | Mature | 52358 words

Louis Tomlinson is the caretaker of an estate that is not truly his, and when his Uncle calls upon him to take it back, Louis knows he will soon be out on the streets with four overly zealous sisters to care for. His only solution: wed the eldest two off and pray for the best. When an even better solution unexpectedly presents itself in the form of the charming Mr. Styles, Louis is faced with a difficult choice. But as with all things in the regency era, reputation very well may threaten to outweigh the fleeting matters of his heart.    

12) Tug-Of-War | Explicit | 55475 words

Louis' husband dies suddenly and he is left with nothing. Well, not really nothing. He has Harry. And a St. Bernard puppy named Link, whom his late husband left behind for him. Louis takes care of Link and Harry takes care of Louis. Everything is okay until suddenly, it isn't.

13) I Carry Your Heart With Me (I Carry It In My Heart) | Explicit | 55844 words

Harry thinks he has good reasons for avoiding relationships. Meeting Louis puts those reasons to the test.

14) Saving Symphony Hall | Mature | 124767 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic.

“I think I have an idea,” Louis said. Slowly, and reluctantly, but with a growing sense of the inevitable. “God damnit, I think I have a really good idea.” “Oh christ, that's the problem-solving face,” Babs said. “Last time we saw that face, he sold a company.” “Wait, what?” Zayn asked. “Right place, right time,” Louis said. “Also, fuck my life,” “What?” Zayn repeated. Niall patted his hand. “I usually just roll with whatever Louis is about to do,” he said. “It’s better for us all.” “That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

15) Cold Little Heart | Teen & Up | 194584 words

Louis is a soft omega with an abusive past and an alpha child. A few months after getting a divorce, Louis meets Harry, an ex-military alpha wolf that offers him something odd. In exchange for teaching him how to cook, Harry will babysit his son, Abraham. Louis really could use the help.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #234

“don’t take care of me - be scared of me.”

Does it bother you when people beg? I mean, it depends on the consistency, intensity, and the subject. Do you ever eat cookie dough raw? I have, but salmonella will punish me some day. Are you one of those people who are always cold? I am the exact opposite. When was the last time you rode a rollercoaster? Pf, never. Don't want to. Do you like hot dogs? I hate the fact that I love them lol. Do you have any weird rings? I wouldn't consider any "weird," no. Have any bad addictions? Ugh, caffeine. Are you anything like your siblings? I am very, very different from my two immediate sisters. Ma says I'm extremely similar to Katie, my half-sister, though it's odd because we don't seem to agree on very much? I don't even think she likes me. When was the last time you shaved your legs? Literally not since like... February. It's not like anybody but family sees my legs anyway. It's just stupid societal expectations for a woman, and I've never been prone to obeying those to begin with. Do you like long bike rides? I used to LOVE riding my bike when I lived in the woods/by an almost-dead road, but I haven't that in... god, years. I don't even have that bike anymore. My knees would never, EVER survive riding one right now. Do you know someone who is blind? My sister is in one eye, but I can't remember which. Do you have a YouTube account? how else would I like every Mark video in existence and I wish I was kidding?????????????? How many cell phones have you had? No clue. Not many. Maybe like, four or so. When was the last time something bothered you? Yesterday 'cuz I was getting weird fuckin phone calls. Do you ever try free samples at the store? Sure, if they seem like something I'd like. Can you speak French or Spanish? No. What school year do you think will be/was the saddest? 8th. Anxiety and depression were getting bad, puberty was A Thing, confused about life in general and why all this sadness and fear was happening to me. Do you like boys with long hair? I mean this depends on the person, but in general, yes. I think I prefer it over shorter, in most cases. Have you ever had plum juice? No, but that sounds decent. If I can even remember what a plum tastes like... I loved them as a kid, haven't had one in like, years. Have you ever passed out? Once, almost twice not long after the first time. Was today someones birthday that you know? No. Have you drank any water today? A little bit. When was the last time you had a crowd at your house? Holy shit. Probably not since we MOVED here in '17. Are you worried about anything right now? When aren't I at least a bit worried about something, really. Are you keeping anything from your best friends right now? No. Do you currently have any mosquito bites? Not currently. A- blood, hell yeah man. Do you have Twitter? Yes. Literally to like. um. one somebody's stuff. If you found out you were pregnant, who would you tell? God FUCKING forbid. Obviously my family. Sara. If it was from consensual sex, I'd tell friends eventually. If it was, uh, any other way, probably not EVEN some family because there are some that would probably never speak to me again if I got an abortion. Is your driveway stone or pavement? Stone. Have you ever caught something on fire? Yeah. Y'know, s'mores, sparklers, wood when making a bonfire or something. Regular stuff. How many people have you kissed in a car? One or two. Idr if Sara and I ever have. Do you and your best friend have an inside joke? "buzzfeed" Do you have a gym membership? Not anymore. How long was your last shower? Not even ten minutes. Get clean and get out. What is your favorite color fingernail polish? I think red tends to be the prettiest. If you had to get a tattoo, what would it be of? Man, don't ask me this. I have a billion ideas. If I had the money for it though, I'd probably finally get this (Denialism) as a tat on my left upper arm next. It's like, my favorite drawing ever, and I've already gotten the artist's permission. What is the best fast food place, in your opinion? Sonic has had my heart lately. What is your favorite eye color in the opposite sex? I just generally like vibrant and/or light blue eyes, but I really don't care about someone's eye color. What is your mom’s maiden name? Yeah, let's share that on the Internet. Would you rather receive balloons or flowers for valentine’s day? Flowers. Balloons are nothing but waste and wind up as litter anyway. Do you follow the crowd when it comes to trends or do your own thing? Do my own thing. Trends 'n shit don't matter to me; I don't care how "cool" or "uncool" something is. I like what I like. What is your worst bad habit? Assuming the worst of absolutely everything within .01 seconds. Do you believe in happily ever after? No. Things aren't always gonna be happy, sorry. What is your average phone bill? I don't know, Dad pays it. Which is better: chapstick or lip gloss? Chapstick. Have you ever been proposed to? No. Do you take certain medicine on a daily basis? A decent number. Have you ever seen two people together and you got sick to your stomach? I remember seeing a picture of Jason and his girlfriend after me once after they got together and I. Don't know how to describe that feeling. I think I felt more murderous than anything. Do you prefer laptops or desktop computers? Laptops for portability's sake. Have you ever had a really bad haircut? Looking back, the haircut I had before this one wasn't great. Only at some angles did it look good. I mean I don't regret it though, it's how I realized I think I'd like short hair. Did you ever order any clothes from the Alloy catalog? Never heard of them. What brand, color, and type is your favorite eyeliner? I love black eyeliner, but I don't have any favorite brands. I hate liquid, though. My hands aren't steady enough for that, and it's just messy. What’s your favorite type of yogurt? Meh, not a big fan. Idk. Do you have any overdue library books right now? No. Do you have a piggy bank? No. Do you remember your locker combinations from high school? Nope. Do you own plaid pants? No. Have you ever had to wear a school uniform? Yeah, through all of middle school. What was your high school’s mascot? A firebird. Who were your best friends in high school? I had various ones. Excluding The Ex, there was Hannia, Alon, Megan, Maria, Girt... There was a few. Have you ever been to Chicago? Once, with Sara and her dad. At night. And the lights and cars and shops and towers and everything was too much for my rural ass. I'm not a city person, but because it was SO different and just incredible in scope and all, I still thought it was absolutely beautiful and so exciting. Would you rather sleep on the top bunk or bottom bunk? Bottom. When my sister and I were little and shared a room though, I almost always had the top bunk. As I got older though, that inverted. Have you ever had a secret admirer that left you notes? I THINK Aaron did once, but I can't remember for sure. Are you close with your cousins? No. Are you close to any aunts or uncles? Not especially, but only because, like my cousins, I pretty much never see them. Are you close to your grandparents? All but one is dead, and that one is dying. Barely knew any, save for my remaining grandmother, and we've never gotten along well/agreed on much, but I mean, I still care for her. I also pretty much never saw her. Who betrayed your trust? Plenty of people. Who was your first best friend (apart from a sibling)? Brianna. What was your favorite thing to do at sleepovers when you were younger? I don't know. Probably play make-believe or go swimming. What kind of popcorn is your favorite? Normal with butter and salt. Does your town have a big fountain in it? The next town over does. What is your town known for? "You mean Tennessee?" Don't think that's too much of a giveaway. What’s one way in which you’re still a child? I am very dependent on Mom. What’s one way in which you’re old? My knees are at least 107. Do you know what you want to do for your next birthday? gooooooood take me to get a tatTOOOOOOO What would be the best surprise you could receive right now? Mom buying tickets to the Ozzy concert next year alksdjfalwe. I've been losing my fucking mind since the new single came out and album was announced. Do you usually forgive when someone hurts your or try to get revenge? I'm not a vengeful person at all, really. I tend to forgive. Were there any subjects in school that were really easy for you? English has always been a breeze, and usually science. Did you ever skip a grade or get held back a grade? No. Do you think you look better with dyed hair or natural hair? Just about anyone looks better with dyed hair to me. I just like colorful, interesting hair. Has your hair color changed since you were a toddler? Yes. I was born dirty blonde. Do you own an American flag shirt? No. Do you own a British flag shirt? No. Do you have a seashell collection? No. We used to have a box of them, though. Do you have a rock collection? No. What is your favorite thing to do in the pool? Just chill. Casually swim around aimlessly. Cacti or seashells? Hmmmm. I think seashells, but that's tough. Dreamcatcher or wind chimes? MAN, this depends on the design. Have you ever taken a picture at the perfect moment? The only one I have that I consider the absolute *perfect* moment was at Ashley's gender reveal when she and her husband found out the baby is a girl. Her face especially is priceless. What color was your first car? N/A Was your first car used or new? N/A What was the last thing you said in complete caps? HAHAHA I sent Sara a fucking CURSED picture of Pennywise as a good morning text. Do you enjoy playing board games? Not really. Are you good at playing Hide and Go Seek? I guess I was as a kid. I'm sure I wouldn't be now. Elephants can't really hide. :^) Do you live in an apartment or a house? A house. Is there a music artist that never ceases to amaze you? As far as truly *amaze* goes, probably Amy Lee. Her voice is just fucking incredible. What is your favorite term of endearment? Probably "love." Or "dear." I dunno. Do you like Twizzlers? NO. They're gross as hell. Do you sneak in candy/soda when you go to the movies? Yeup. Fuck those prices. What was the last song you had on repeat? I adore Ozzy's new "Under The Graveyard" beyond words and so have been binging it like mad since yesterday lmao. Where are your favorite pair of jeans from? I don't have jeans. Do you tap your foot when you listen to music? No. If I respond to it in any voluntary way, I'll most likely be tapping my hand with the beat. Will you get your hair cut anytime soon? I need to, yeah. I hate when my hair starts getting long enough to curl a tad upwards in the back. Are you uncoordinated? VERY. Have you ever listened to Jane’s Addiction? I know and enjoy "Jane Says" and "Been Caught Stealing." What’s the worst thing you’ve ever experienced? Heartbreak. What’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen? I dunno, there's a lot. Do you write “Dear Diary” when you write in your diary? I don't have a diary. I don't think I ever did. What is your escape from your problems? Music, playing WoW, stuff like that. Just give me a distraction. Do you watch YouTube videos a lot? Literally every day throughout the day. It's at least background noise. Do you have an embarrassing period story? No, thankfully. Would your life be at risk if someone knew everything about you? No. Is your life at risk? I mean, more than like by disease, some psycho, an accident, shit like that, no? Do you feel safe in your hometown? No. Never did. I miss our house and the childhood memories, but that place was dangerous. Where do you dream of moving to? The mountains of NC. What fascinates you more: outer space or the bottom of the ocean? Space. Have you ever seen a UFO? I guess by the definition of "unidentified flying object," yes, but I think it was some sort of natural phenomenon with a star, not an alien. Maybe. Does anyone encourage you to go after your dreams? Yeah. :') What is the stupidest thing anyone’s ever said to you? "i'Ll AlWaYs LoVe YoU, bRiTtAnY!" What’s the most amount of weight you’ve gained from a medication? LET'S. FUCKING. NOT. Do you name inanimate objects? No. What do you think the constellations mean? "Nothing? Just humanity reaching to ascribe some type of meaningfulness to the world around them." <<<< This, I like this. Did you like the venue your senior prom was held at? I mean it was at the local college's gym. Nothing special. Which spelling do you like best: Hayley, Hailey, or Haley? Hm, I think "Hailey." Which name is better: Hailey, Bailey, Kailey, or Shailey? Ummmmm I think "Kailey." Are you mad at someone? I'm always going to be mad to a degree. Do you feel like your life was stolen from you? I guess in a way by mental illness? Do you have a professional camera? Yeah. What would you change about your hair? Ugh, I want to COLOR it. I really want silver hair atm. When was the last time you changed your hairstyle? Last year. Do you like rose gold? I love it. What’s your favorite color gummy bear? I don't... care? Oh wait, maybe green. Those normally have an apple kinda feel, right? Or do they all thaste the same? What is the sexiest part of the opposite sex’s body? I like s h o u l d e r b l a d e s. Have you ever made up/sang a song for someone you cared about? Only ever poems. Ever had a song sang about/for you? I mean, I've had like songs /dedicated/ to me, but never actually made for me specifically. What is your middle name? Marie. Like every other white girl known to man. What do you smell like? My house, I guess? Ever hurt yourself playing Wii? I don't believe so. Do you have freckles? Not on my face, but random ones on the rest of my body, yeah. Can you do the alphabet in sign language? No. Do you like your feet? I seriously hate feet. That includes mine. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever had in your mouth? uhhhhhhhhh Has anyone ever threatened you with a knife? No. (If you’re a girl) Has anyone ever called you "shorty" instead of "girl"? Ugh no, thank Christ. Have you ever sent an embarrassing moment of yours into a mag to be printed? No. What IS your most embarrassing moment? I've told it before but now I don't remember it??? What’s the last thing to make you scream? Like a small, quick one, I think a loud noise scared me. I've been extremely sensitive to those lately and idk why??? Do your parents knock before coming in, or just barge on in? My door's never really closed, but when it is, Mom doesn't. Dad does. Do you think you’re more cute or sexy? BOY neither. Do you own any mini skirts? Bitch I wish I could wear mini skirts but I would blind people with my body rn. Do you draw little hearts and stuff with eyeliner next to your eyes? Nah. What’s the most expensive thing you’ve ever lost? Good question, idk. Has your mom ever lied to you? Yeah. Do you have a deep voice? It's definitely deep for a girl, but it's not like, manly. When’s the last time someone made breakfast for you? I guess the last time I was out for breakfast? Idr. When someone knocks on the door, who do you think it is? A mailman/woman. No one else comes here unexpectedly. Has anyone ever licked your foot? UM NO Do you play games with boys/girls, like "hard to get"? I never did and never will. I'm definitely not easy, but I don't play games. Oh wait, unless we're already a serious couple and I'm sexually being a tease. Hobby. When’s the last time someone told you they were in love with you? Some time back. Is there a Sonic where you live? mmmmmmmmmMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM- Do you smile with your teeth? Usually. What do you like on your pizza? Pepperoni, jalapenos, sausage... stuff like that. I'm WEAK for meat lovers pizza sobs heavily in wanna-be vegetarian Do you know anyone who lives in Newfoundland? No. How ‘bout Alberta? No. Anyone in Canada at all? Yeah, a friend's ex. She's cool. If you could trade houses with a friend, who would it be? I wouldn't damn anyone with this house, lol. I mean it's not bad, it just has its issues. Are you a good person to come to for advice? It depends on the subject we're talkin' here. Do you sleep naked? No. I'd feel so vulnerable. Favorite place you've been: Through the NC mountains. Which of your Facebook friends lives closest to you? UHHHHHHHHH how do I not know this?? When was the last time you cried? Idr, actually. Who took your profile pic? Where? What’s your favorite season? Autumn. What was the last book you read? The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood. Fucking read it. Are you a good influence? This also depends on the area of focus. Does pineapple belong on pizza? NO. Sweet and savory do noooot mix in my world.