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yee-fxcking-haw · 3 years

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•The Grey Area•

Part One: •Fallen Angel•

Summary: You're Enji Todoroki's prized possession, his Angel. Given this name because of your pure, white wings. Your quirk is truly unique, until you come face to face with Enji's new friend and hit man, Hawks. His presence shakes you, his abilities intimidate you. The roll he plays in your life? That's up in the air.

Pairing: Keigo Takami x FemReader, Endeavor x FemReader

Warnings: Violence, mentions of death, descriptions of death, sexual themes and implications, mentions of harassment, (Eventual smut, as well as other warnings- they will be at the beginning of each chapter.)

Word Count: 4,471

A/N: I'm gonna write this shit til I get sick of writing it. Not to suck my own dick but I am in love with this story idea so we're just gonna keep rolling til it feels right to end it lmao.

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Silk may be the worst material ever invented. It slips and slides and hides absolutely nothing. Your lungs deflate as you slide your hands down the front of the horrid thing you've been asked to wear. It was laid out on your bed for you, with a small note that said, "Get dolled up for me." It isn't signed, it doesn't need to be.

It's a note from the man that more or less owns you. He likes to say he takes care of you, you like to say he holds your leash. At the end of the day, coming to him was what you needed to do to survive, so you did it. You shake the thoughts of how you came to be here from your head, ignoring the dreadful remnants of a time when you were desperate enough to turn to him for protection.

Enji Todoroki lives one of the most complex double lives in existence. He’s a magnificent hero, topping the charts and staying there. He saves lives, lets his flames shine bright, he's a beacon of hope.

He’s also an incredibly feared underground crime lord. When the flames are off, he's no longer heroic, he's no longer honorable. He's bloodthirsty, his friends are few and his enemies are many.

Keeping these two realms separate is quite the task, but he pulls it off with his vast wealth and by calling in the seemingly limitless favors from those he’s helped out of sticky situations.

The supposedly heroic faces you’ve seen slinking around his estate were jarring at first. The mighty do indeed fall, and they tumble right into his lap. They’re always after something, a loan, various narcotics, maybe some illegal steroids to increase their performances.

Enji loves a bargain, he loves to string those poor saps along until they’re too confused to agree to anything that’s reasonable. It’s horribly entertaining, as backwards as it all is, you’ve grown fond of the way he befuddles every hopeless individual that finds themselves desperate enough to seek out his help.

Usually, you’re there by his side. You block out the conversation as you serve drinks, laugh at the bad jokes, and most of all, look pretty. Your job is to be his greatest manipulation tactic. Give the suckers something to drool at, get them drunk, stay out of the way so Enji can lock in whatever deal he’s making.

You ruffle your hair, straighten your dress, and take one final glance in your mirror.

There’s a familiar tightness in your chest when you acknowledge the real reason you’re used as something to gawk at.

Your wings.

Two broad, unruly, attention grabbing, white wings emerging from your shoulder blades. Little speckles of brown and black exist among the sea of white feathers that fall all the way to the floor. The feathers at the tips always look pitiful, since their entire existence is spent dragging the floor.

They’re useless things, heavy and cumbersome and completely nonfunctional. You could probably fly if you wanted to, if somebody would teach you. You never stood a chance at that though, your parents couldn’t even begin to do so, and Enji certainly won’t waste energy on it. No, he likes having you on the ground. Safe and sound, much more convenient to keep you without a cage.

The bones of them often ache, obviously needing to be used, desperate to do their job. They most resemble the wings of a Barn Owl. Along with the wings, your quirk provides you with exceptional vision and hearing. Sometimes it feels like a sixth sense, like you can tell when things are going to happen before they actually do.

This, of course, makes you invaluable to Enji during his meetings. You’re able to pick up on nervous ticks, listen to the whispers, and tip him off. He does love keeping you around for that, you’ve assisted him innumerable times, and he always rewards so generously. He keeps you comfortable, spoiled even, anything for his Angel.

Enji’s Angel.

It was never very official, he just started calling you by it, and you started answering to it. In your younger years it was almost affectionate, slightly comforting. Now, it’s a scarlet letter, a stage name, belonging to somebody who doesn’t quite exist.

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The meeting is absolute torture. Some schmuck is sitting across from you and Enji, blubbering his way through some bullshit about how he’ll have the money next week. You’re perched on Enji’s lap, reclining against his chest with your chin up high.

You’re all sitting around a large oak coffee table in Enji’s office, drinks in hands, guns in holsters.

“I swear, the guy I know, he owes me, he says he’ll have the money by this weekend, maybe even sooner!” The sniffling client begs. He’s a pitiful little man, all short and greasy looking, with bulbous eyes that sit above a large aquiline nose.

“Oh, how reassuring, my money is in the hands of a friend of a liar,” Enji sneers, voice low and menacing, “Doesn’t that put you at ease, Angel?” His hand snakes around your waist, making his claim on you evident to everyone in the room.

The client brought two goons with him, both sit on the lavish loveseat, watching with putrid envy as Enji’s hands roam across your middle.

You run your hand up his massive chest, making a show of adjusting your hips in his lap. You flash your eyes up to his and roll your shoulders, wings rippling as you do. The room is taken over by a heavy, consuming silence.

You survey Enji’s face, void of flames for such a serious event. You hear hearts beat faster, breathing quicken, idiots, every one of them.

“No, I don’t think it does, sir.” You purr, hand playing with the collar of his grey dress shirt.

This whole charade used to make your skin crawl, feeling eyes burn into your flesh, knowing that if Enji weren’t here you’d be laid out on the table while the pigs around you took turns.

You expressed this once, crying and shaking as you begged Enji to stop bringing you into them. His only response was to demand that you tell him whenever somebody was making you uncomfortable, and he would gladly take care of it.

It only took one client, one dense motherfucker who put his hand on your thigh. The second his hand was on you, Enji put a bullet in his head. You watched the blood splatter, and the body hit the floor, but ripped your eyes away after that. You turned into Enji’s chest, clutching him as you realised it was all your doing, Enji had killed for you.

Since then, you vowed to maintain a facade of confidence in these meetings. If Enji were to kill, it would be because of his own corrupted motives, not for you, never again.

You no longer let the bile rise in your throat, you don’t look away from any perverse gaze. You keep your nerves steady, and you stare the bastards down.

One of the goons shifts in their seat, making Enji shoot him a warning glance as you continue to fiddle with his shirt.

“I don’t think it’s wise to leave so much money up to ‘maybe’ and ‘this guy’.” You sigh as you slide off Enji’s lap, keeping your hand on his chest as you slink around to stand behind him. He gives you a knowing look, full of admiration and pride, he does love watching you perform.

Show time.

You flutter your wings out to the sides, stretching them, making a spectacle of them. All three of the men watch with comically amazed expressions. Their jaws may as well be on the floor, you slide your hands onto Enji’s broad shoulders so you can rub small circles into his muscles.

“I agree, I don’t like all this ‘maybe’ bullshit.” the energy in the room thickens as he speaks, falling into heavy silence in reverence of the power his voice exudes.

"Angel, will you grab us some more drinks?" You draw yourself up tall, ignoring the eyes that gorge on your decolletage.

"Yes Sir." You lean down to place a sweet kiss on Enji's cheek, flashing a little too much skin for his guests.

"Isn't she lovely, gentlemen?" He wonders out loud, looking up at you fondly.

No, not fondly, possessively, greedily. There's no loving tenderness that comes with fondness.

The men nod quietly, all afraid to cross a line, none willing to speak out of turn.

"Do a spin for them, sweetheart." He grabs your wrist and pulls you around to his side.

Your cheeks and ears run hot as he lifts your arm for you to spin, leaving space for your wings. You give a smooth twirl, feathers and dress flowing around you with a subtle woosh.

"Men would kill for her, don't you think?" Another round of silent nods, another wave of tense energy.

"I have." It's a warning, loud and clear.

He waves his hand in your direction, dismissive and bored.

"Go on, Angel. I have to have a private word with our guests." You glide out of the room gracefully, walking slowly enough so they can all watch you leave.

You swallow the terrible feelings rising in your gut, knowing damn well how rarely people leave that room alive after a "private word". You find your way to the kitchen easily, a tray of drinks already prepared on the fine granite countertop.

Enji's estate is nothing short of magnificent, all expensive foreign materials, gold fixtures and crystal chandeliers. All supplied by his mass of illegally acquired wealth.

One of the sweet little maids nods at you, gawking at your wings as always. You have a strange relationship with the staff at the house, they always treat you like some skittish animal. Afraid that you're unpredictable, even dangerous.

It's always seemed odd to you, but you've grown to understand it. None of them know where you came from, nor how you ended up in Enji's good graces, let alone a cherished prize to him.

On your way back down the hall, you hear the shouting of men, not an usual occurrence, but this time it makes your blood run cold. It sounds much more… painful, then usual. Cries for help mixed with curses and strangled yells. You freeze when the door rattles with such force, the only explanation can be that a body was thrown against it.

Then, there's silence. Silence, followed by sick laughter. You know Enji's voice too well, his rich tone fills your ears, but there's one other. Did he have an accomplice? It's not uncommon for Enji to have all his bases covered, so it's possible one of the goons was a double agent.

Your feet find their function again and you pad quietly towards the door. You take a second to breathe deeply, preparing yourself for the inevitable bloodshed you're about to witness.

You rap your knuckles on the door very quietly, wouldn't want to disturb the dead.

"Angel? Is that you?" Enji's voice calls as his laughter settles, the other man went silent as soon as your hand met the wood of the door.

"Yes sir." You say, trying to keep your voice soft but still wanting to be heard.

"Oh shit, get this out of the way."

A body.

You hear something slide then drop, and your chest squeezes with guilt. One day you won't have these feelings, one day seeing someone drop dead will evoke no more feeling than watching dead hair fall to the ground after it's trimmed. At least, that's what Enji tells you.

The door cracks open, a wall of a human standing on the other side of it. Enji beams down at you, the smallest amount of blood decorates his gray collar.

"Why do you always get so messy when I leave?" You tease, despite the sick feeling in your gut.

"It's a messy business." He counters, holding the door for you to step into the room. You expect the slit throats, the smell of blood, and the horrid joy in Enji's face. What you don't expect, is the creature poised in the corner of the room.

A creature with wings. No, not a creature, a man. With menacing, vibrant, crimson wings. His face is nothing but sharp serious lines, highlights of gold with intense shadows. He's covered in slim fitting black clothing, giving him a tactical and militant look.

He looks so powerful, and so beautiful. The only thing you can think to compare him to is a fallen angel, heavenly, but haunting.

In his hands, he holds a… sword? Then he steps further into view, and you see the blade shift. A feather. With a smooth, deadly twitch of his wrist, he flicks the rigid feather. It sends blood splattering across the floor where he stands.

His glowing eyes watch you, waiting for you to react, maybe waiting for you to scream, run away and hide. You can't, though, you're entranced. He has wings. Your own twitch behind your back, suddenly feeling even more cumbersome and useless after seeing how athletic and beautiful his own are.

As gruesome as the scene is, he's magnificent, stunning in such an overwhelming way. His eyes rake over your body, but it doesn't feel perverse, it feels like he's sizing you up, estimating your abilities.

Because he is.

"Angel, this is Hawks, he's a very good friend of mine." Enji explains, relaxing back into his chair as you and Hawks continue to watch each other.

You would never know it, but his breath hitched the second he saw you. Enji had told him about his Angel, but his description did you no justice. To Hawks, at least, you look capable, intimidating even. Your wings are equal in size to his, but compared to your smaller frame they look so fierce.

Neither of you has seen or heard of someone with a quirk like yours, or even remotely similar. So you stand there, amazed, in fear, sizing each other up.

"Isn't she something?" Enji's voice pulls you out of your trance, your eyes finally breaking from his friend's.

Hawks just hums, eyes still locked on your form as you set the tray of drinks down in front of Enji. He pours one for himself, then one for you, and one for Hawks. You take a glance around at the gore surrounding you, and shake your head at the drink.

"Not tonight, I'm tired." You try to sell it as best you can, but Enji sees right through you.

"Her stomach isn't very strong yet, sensitive little thing." He says to Hawks.

When you glance over to him, his reaction unsettles you. He grins, a broad, breathtaking thing. He's amused, embarrassed for you. How silly of you to be so bothered by a fucking murder scene.

Aside from the dead bodies, you can't stand another second under the predatory gaze of Enji's new friend. The whole scene makes you more uncomfortable than anything has in a long while. It's very apparent by Enji's lack of weapons, and by Hawks' feral appearance, that Hawks is some kind of hit man.

"Get some rest, then." Enji says dismissively.

You kiss him on the cheek, earning a rare smile from his usual straight lips. There's no affection behind your kiss, but there is loyalty, and he knows that.

Doing your best not to seem like you're in a rush, you keep your head down and walk steadily towards the door.

"Nice to meet you, Angel." His voice is like caramel syrup, dripping over you and heating you up.

You hate it.

You give him nothing but a turse nod then duck out the door, trying to keep your heart in it's cage, trying to keep your hands from shaking. What the hell was that?

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You spend some time in the library before heading to bed. The fireplace crackles and pops, casting beautiful, dancing lights on the dark oak bookshelves. It's not a massive library, but it's decent. Full of books that have been collected by Enji, but not read. You do the reading, he does the acquiring.

Not tonight, though. Tonight you just sit, you sit and overthink. You can't seem to shake the uneasy feeling this "Hawks" character gave you. He was so primal looking, so unhinged, so… beastly.

The contrast of his beauty is what keeps punching you in the gut. He was nothing short of stunning, like a marble statue brought to life by an enchantress. That's even without his wings. God, his wings. He must look spectacular in the air, so majestic.

You stuff the thought down, deep down. The longing in your chest is enough to make your eyes sting with tears. Flying. A feeling you've never known, but the instinct burns beneath your skin. You wonder if even knows how lucky he is…

You grab onto those thoughts before they run away, standing to your feet with a stretch and a ruffle of your own wings.

You just need sleep, you need to shake this off. Enji has plenty of "friends", plenty of lowlifes and murderers that he keeps close. Hawks is no different, he'll linger for a bit, then disappear under mysterious circumstances, and you'll never hear his name again.

The thought should bring your comfort as you travel to your bedroom, but as you wander through the halls, your chest aches. Somehow, the idea of not knowing all you can about this stranger makes you itch. Which in turn, makes you detest his presence even more. There's no reason for such a fascination… aside from your resemblance to him.

The sound of your bedroom door latching behind you does bring you some piece, lifting some of the weight off of your lungs. Until you hear the slightest ruffle echo from the direction of your window.

The hair on your neck stands on end as you draw your wings up to their full size. Your shoulders are rigid, fists clenched as you whip your head around to identify the sound.

"Do you always sleep with the door unlocked?" That sugary voice falls on your ears once again, raising goosebumps all over your body.

You don't answer, you only watch, inching backwards towards the door. There could be only one reason one of Enji's friends would corner you like this, the thought makes your heart beat to the point of nearly breaking through your chest.

He's perched on your windowsill, feet dangling into the room, wings relaxed behind him as the wind catches his scarlet feathers. The curtains away around him as they catch the cool breeze, the whole scene gives him an almost ghostly look, especially with the pale light of the moon as the only illumination in your bedroom.

"Easy, kid." He slides off lazily, arms crossed as he saunters towards you, "I just wanted to talk."

His lips quirk up into an easy smirk, something that makes your insides stir.

"Talk quick, then get out." You snap, pressing your back against the door, drawing your wings in around yourself protectively as your arms wrap around your chest. He stops nearly a foot from you, his own wings spread wide, almost like he's showing off.

The energy is thick, pressing on your lungs as you watch his face. He looks down his nose at you, not judging, but observing. His eyes are lit with a patient look, something soft but relatively unreadable. His proximity overwhelms you, even up close, you're hard pressed to find a single flaw.

There you stand, shrouded in scarlet, him in white. Both waiting for the other to speak, or move, or even breathe. Desperate for some evidence that you were both real and not some apparition sent to mock your poor mortal brain with an image of unparalleled perfection.

Wild, dazzling, gilded eyes search your face. Predatory pupils slit as he takes in every detail he can. His chest rises, and he speaks. He utters a simple, "They're beautiful." and everything shatters.

A cadence of feelings builds within your chest, tuning up like an orchestra. All unorganized noise, arching and mixing, impossible to focus on anything in particular.

Then the most beautiful part, the settling of the chaos. All of the instruments find their notes as they fade out. The anticipatory silence settles within you, preparing you for the moment when they all roll into the first cord of their symphony.

You don't feel right taking the name Angel, not after this, not after you've seen one. Your reverence for his beauty is short lived, though. As soon as you remember the way his eyes were wild with bloodlust, the way he had taken lives with his own feathers.

Admiration is replaced with apprehension. However, the strongest feeling is curiosity, morbid, forbidden curiosity.

You shove the compliment to the far corners of your brain, ignoring the fire it stokes in your heart.

"Talk or leave." You say shortly.

"Not a fan of flattery?" He asks, quirking a thick eyebrow.

"Not a fan of coercion." You reply, arms drawing tighter around your chest.

Hawks pauses for a moment, considering your answer.

"What are you a fan of?" His smile grows a bit more as he turns away from you on his heels, looking almost bored. You stay glued to your door, wrapped around yourself, completely frozen.

"Well, I'm usually a fan of not having my room invaded by murderers." You sneer, attempting to ignore the way his body moves so elegantly as he investigates your room with fabricated intrigue.

He scoffs a bit at your feisty retort, looking over his shoulder to give you quick up and down with his eyes. He wanders back to the window, back to you as he takes a look out.

"A murderer. That's a bold accusation, sweetheart." He turns around again, backlit by the moonlight.

"Can you use em'?" He asks, nodding behind you.

The question bites at your insides, it twists your guts up onto angry knots.

You shake your head, you can't say it out loud, you can't admit it.

His face falls the slightest bit, less amused, more aware. Perhaps he feels sympathy, imagining a life without the freedom of flight.

"I see." He says quietly, "A dove?" He wonders out loud.

His prying starts to eat at your patience, you already feel intruded upon by him sneaking into your bedroom, and now he wants to dissect your anatomy? Yet, you still find yourself drawn to the conversation, hanging on his words, hoping to gain information about him in exchange for information about yourself.

"Owl." You say simply, easing off the door a little so you can spread your wings some, "The markings give it away."

He nods, taking in the messy brown and black speckles at the tips.

"How did you do that with your feather?" You ask, works spilling out a little too fast.

Both of his eyebrows shoot up, surprised by your sudden engagement in the conversation.

His only reply is by drawing himself up by his shoulders. Then, miraculously, one of his feathers flies from his wing, darting straight for you until it pauses in front of your face. You flinch slightly before it pauses, then you stand transfixed, watching the small crimson blade levitate before you.

You want to reach out and grab it, find the string that's holding it up, find the answer to this magic trick.

"Pretty cool, huh?" He says, full of confidence as he sways back over to you, "You can touch it." He says gently.

So you do, you take it into your hand gently. The texture is shocking, it's soft and silky, much more pleasant than your coarse and textured feathers.

"How?" You ask, amazed by his abilities.

He shrugs and turns around again, pacing back to the window. You take a mental note of his inability to stand still for longer than a few seconds.

"I just… can." He says it so matter of fact, like it's the obvious answer.

Now that he's more relaxed, not holding a feather dripping with blood, he seems almost... Friendly? He certainly seems less frightening, less aggressive and formidable.

You hold the feather in your palms, waiting for the next trick.

"Keep it." He says as he settles back down onto the windowsill, sitting like he was when you first found him.

He stretches an arm around to brace on the outside of the window frame, leaning back into the open air of the night. For a brief moment you panic, knowing you're on the third floor, but then you just feel stupid for being concerned for a person with functioning wings.

"Why?" You ask, closing in your hands as you look up at him.

His smile is devilish, he rolls his shoulders back and lifts himself up to his feet. He crowds the large window, filling it with his lean body and those powerful wings.

"In case you need me." He winks and gives you a lazy, two finger salute before letting himself fall away into the sky.

Your chest lurches as you dart to the window, desperate to see him in action, desperate to see someone fly.

By the time you reach the window, though, he's nowhere to be seen. Evaporated into the stars, not even the sound of beating wings left as evidence.

You glance down at the feather in your hands, and notice it twitch to life before it floats up to hover in front of your face again. Your chest fills with an absolute mess of unorganized, chaotic feelings that you can't even begin to pull apart and make sense of.

The feather flicks under your chin, tickling the skin there with its pointed tip. You snatch it roughly, irritated with the teasing, perturbed by his nonchalance. You slam the window shut before huffing over to your dresser, you rip a drawer open and shove the feather between your clothes.

You slam it shut as the raging sea of emotions beats against your chest, drowning your lungs as well as any cognitive brain function.

You can't make sense of any of this shit, you can't imagine how anyone could have ever made it up to your room without Enji's knowledge. Unless… he was let up… but that doesn't make any sense. None of it does. It's all so cloudy, you feel thousands of questions swarm your brain, and you don't possess a single answer.

The only thing you know for sure, is that you have to find out more about this fallen angel, you have to find out more about Hawks.

#takami keigo #my hero academia #hawks #hawks au #my hero au #my hero smut #hawks angst #mha hawks #my hero hawks #keigo takami #Keigo #keigo x you #hawks x you #hawks series #keigo takami smut #hawks smut

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elysiashelby · 3 years

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In Another World - T.Shelby Imagine Ch. 18

Paring: (Eventual) Thomas Shelby x Aliena Welsh (OC)

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Word Count: 8,466

WARNINGS: ANGST?, Vivid Murder Scenes, Cursing, “Fluff”

Summary: It’s been three months since Aliena was hired by Cassie’s father, Dom to be an assassin. Now she has to juggle her side job, a social life, and her main job. How will take take a toll?

MASTERLIST CHAPTER 17 CHAPTER 19

A/N: So, if you’ve haven’t realized by now. Things are starting to get “bloodier”/ more violent. SEASON 2 STARTS NEXT CHAPTER!! I think I started this story this June or July, so this story isn’t even a year old yet. It sure feels like it! Well, Happy Holidays everyone and let’s hope 2021 is a better year.

The smell, oh, the smell was pungunt.

The scent of overwhelming iron surrounded me.

My hands were covered in it. The mixture of fresh red and dried reddish-brown made the color of my skin unrecognizable.

With wobbly legs, I made my way into the barren street. There was this continuous burn from overexertion in my thighs. The night breeze blew my hair around me and into my view.

With confident strides, I made my way to the kitchen counter. The air was humid from the oven and I was attempting to reach my destination in a timely manner, so that I can wash away this stickiness for my hands.

Then a loud whiz...passed by my ear/breezed passed me.

I sighed deeply before pivoting toward the direction of the bullet.

I exclaimed in surprise as John's children ran around the kitchen, passing me by with enough speed that caused me to be concerned.

I bent down, reached for my gun, and fired at the person.

I shouted at them, “Guys, get out of the kitchen and play in the living room! I don’t want youse gettin’ hurt.”

With my grip firmly around the collar of the unknown man, I drew back my fist and punched him over and over again. Daylight blinded me, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was making sure this man didn’t get back up.

With the back of my hand, I wiped the sweat from my forehead and kneaded the dough over and over again. Then, Ada came in, scolded me for doing more work than necessary, and passed me the rolling pin.

A new day and I was staring out a window, the man had an arm wrapped around my throat. Even though I was in a chokehold— I wasn’t worried. The wind that rattled the leaves of the tree outside was visually pleasing. I extended my arm and then drove my elbow into his ribs. He loosened his hold around my neck, I gripped his arm, and threw him to the ground. Without hesitation, I grasped my gun from my thigh holster and fired.

I carefully placed the rolled out dough on the platter and started smoothing it out with my fingers.

Killing is more work than I thought, but I didn't mind it. I held it in par with making this cherry pie.

I dusted my hands off before wiping them on my apron for good measure.

I wiped the blood on my hands on the guy's own face. Not like he could care. Stabbing someone without stopping would take feelings like discomfort away.

I bent down and shoved it in the oven.

I bent down as I dodged a right hook. I sprang back up and returned the favor. I grabbed the stunned man, quickly elbowed him in the face, and flipped him on his back. While still having a grip on his arm, I snapped it, dropped it as he screamed in pain, and then put a bullet between his eyes.

I watched as the life drained from his eyes.

I watched as the pie, slowly, began to brown.

Another day, another “mission.” I can’t tell you how many people I’ve killed since I’ve began in May. Three months have past, and I have to admit— it felt like I was completing a job every other day. I know I’m exhausted, but this thrill—! It was like a drug and I’m an addict.

The burning in my lungs hardly bothered me anymore as I was chasing down my latest target. He sniffed me out. Paranoid, he was, just like it said on the profile. He was just quicker than me. Noticed when I was pulling out my gun. The squirrely bastard!

I need to get this done quickly ‘cause I have to make another pie for Ada. She wanted one for her family ‘n said mine tasted too good to get one bought. I sympathized with her given her situation, and caved. Freddie was getting worse, no sign of getter any better. Despite that, he was still up and about.

I stopped running, stilled my body, steadied my gun, and fired. He crouched, flailing his hands in the air while crying out in fear. I groaned in frustration, my cheeks puffing out. The chase resumed.

It didn’t take long ‘til we were running across the hills. I noticed that his pace slowed and I decided to slow down with him. He was still running while I was speed walking. More like marching because of the steepness. I fired again and he fell to the ground.

Not a millisecond later, he was wailing loudly. Meaning, he was still alive. I rolled my eyes and marched right up to him. He was cradling his leg, blood seeping through his hands.

“God, you fucking bastard. Why’d you have to run?” I moaned. I let out a loud exhale, as I tipped my head back, and shook my arms.

He stuttered. “Please! Please don’t kill me!”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I felt disgusted by his actions. I mean what kind of person do you have to be to get a mark on you, and then snivel like a little baby. It’s not just him. There’s been like six other guys who've had the same reaction. Oh, and two women.

Women targets don’t happen often. I’ve only received four orders to take out a woman. So far…

“You see. I might have had some mercy if you hadn’t fucking ran!” I said mockingly.

“Oh, god! Someone! Someone help me!”

I widened my eyes and began shaking my head. I took a deep breath and picked up my head. “Help! Somebody help him!” I shouted. I looked back at him and shook my head. “Nobody is out here, William.”

“Please.” He stuttered again. “I have children.”

I pursed my lips and shook my head. “And…”

“I-! I have to look after them.” He cried out.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Why should I care?”

He shook his head. “No! No!” He held up his blood soaked hands, covering his face while scurrying back.

I just watched him with a blank stare.

Then, he stilled and said. “Wait, wait! I have money!” He swallowed harshly. “I can give you money. I have… a lot of money.”

I prodded my cheek with my tongue before I asked. “How much?” I raised my eyebrow while lowering my gun.

He stammered for words. “200 pounds. No! 400!”

I dramatically blinked and waivered the aim of my gun. I was getting 23,500 for this guy! ‘I’ma fuck with him.’ I thought.

I smiled and said. “Alright, let’s go get it.”

I saw his face contort in relief. “Really?” He shouted.

I nodded, still smiling.

He struggled to get to his feet, and once he did— he glanced down at my gun.

I let out a little “oh” and pretended to tuck in the back of my pants. “You first.” I motioned him with my free hand, and watched as he hobbled past me.

I let him walk a few more steps until I felt like it was time to stop playing. I raised my gun again and pulled the trigger. My head cocked slightly to the side as I watched his body fall to the ground.

I sighed audibly and walked over to the body. I kicked him to face upwards and crouched down. I stared at his figure. A bullet hole in the middle of his forehead. Eyes open. He was kind of handsome.

“What a waste.” I muttered to myself. I rose back up and tucked my gun in the back of my pants. I took the guy’s coat off and laid him on top of it then used it to pull his body back to the car. It wasn’t my car. It was his. Dude thought that he was getting lucky tonight.

I posed as an upper class citizen at some horse meeting event. I wore a blonde wig and some equestrian clothing. I acted posh and nobody noticed a thing. This man liked his women on the bossy side and that’s what I gave him.

Anyway, I had to get to the nearest payphone to tell Dom that the job was done. He would send someone to get rid of the body along with my payment. Then, I would get a ride back home.

And that’s exactly what happened.

I was stitching up a jacket of Finn’s while watching my pie bake. I can’t express how tired I am. I keep sticking myself with the needle, but… I needed to fix this up. Finn only has so many suit jackets and most of them were hand-me-downs.

My sleeping schedule was thoroughly fucked. The adrenaline from this morning's events was wearing off and that meant exhaustion was going to take over soon.

I covered my mouth as I yawned before I finally finished up the last stitch. I threw both the needle and the jacket on the table, and then rubbed my eyes violently. I rested my elbows on my knees as the palms of my hands were digging into my eyes. I wasn't causing myself any pain, but I was aware of the pressure it brought.

I sniffed loudly before rising to my feet quickly, making the chair screech. I turned off the oven and then walked away. I read somewhere that if you leave your pie in the oven to cool down for around five minutes, then it does something to it. To this day, I don't know what it does. All that matters is that it lowers the risk of me getting burnt, and I have a few extra minutes to finish or start my next task.

I walked back to the couch where I continued to fold clothes. I would have to deliver the boys' laundries to their respective homes. Tommy moved out as did Arthur. The family had enough money for it. The only people left in the main house were Polly, Finn, and myself.

I didn't have time to adjust to the change. I'm just so tired by the time I walk into my room. The feeling of security Tommy brought with my knowledge he was just in the room over, was gone. My insomnia and paranoia would have acted up, but like I said- once I step into my bedroom, I practically black out.

I moaned while dropping my arms and my head while closing my eyes, a shirt still in hand. I craved sleep so badly. I huffed as I quickly folded up the shirt and threw it into a pile.

The Shelby’s had no idea, to the best of my knowledge, that I was taking long breaks for well, my “missions.” I took every opportunity to do work outside of the shop, and even lied to them. Told them that I had a date or two. Sometimes they were even successful, and so far I’ve had two imaginary beaus. We always broke up, though. One was because the dude was boring, and the other because he said my heart wasn’t in.

The only reason I was allowed these “dates” is thanks to Polly. Tommy argued against letting me have them, but they had a private talk ‘n well… You know who won.

I marched over to the oven, put on my mitts, and pulled it out. I carefully removed it from the mold and onto a plate. Then, I covered it up with some napkins. Ada would pick it up when she dropped by, or Polly would use it as an excuse to go and see her.

Speaking of Polly, I have to run and tell her that the bloody thing is done! I jogged into the shop and shuffled quickly over to Polly.

“Pol, Ada’s pie is done. I’ve left it on the counter.”

“All right, I’ll be taking it over to her flat when work is done.”

I nodded. “Well, I’m gonna get back to the laundry.”

She nodded. “Okay, love.”

I nodded one last time before marching back into the living room and began finishing up folding. I let my wander aimlessly as I did so.

I recalled my latest kills and daydreamed about my stories. Some of them involved Tommy. He was always the anti-hero or the straight up villain.

Also, since I have less time to myself— I’m not drawing, painting, or writing all that much. So, all of these plotlines are just in my head. They get so scrambled ‘n loud ‘cause I don’t have music to really express them.

I heaved a sigh as I threw the last pair of pants onto a pile. I sorted the piles into their respective baskets, threw on a coat, and then began my journey. John’s house was first. I didn’t do his laundry all the time. However, this was one of the rare times that Esme wanted me to work for the family again.

It would irritate me so much that she was practically working at the betting shop full time with John and would leave the kids running around at all hours, but now— I had my hands full. It would seem Katie is back to being a mum to her younger siblings.

When Katie opened the door for me, I was bombarded in kisses and hugs. It really did make my heart swell. I stayed for a chat ‘n then left. I still had to deliver Arthur and Tommy’s laundry. And cook dinner as well! For both Tom and the main house!

You’d think with how exhausted I am that I would just make the scran and scurry off to my room, but my body wouldn’t let me. I’d rather eat and it tastes like nothing than go to bed with an aching, empty stomach.

John lived in the opposite direction of his brothers which made the walk longer and my annoyance grow with each step. I tried taking calming breaths, but— that almost never works.

I knew he wouldn’t be home, but I knocked out of courtesy ‘n waited outside for like ten seconds. I put the basket down, scrambled to get the key to his flat, unlocked the door, and slid his basket in. I locked back up, picked up Tommy’s basket, and then went on my way.

I let out a big yawn as I walked. I covered it with my hand as best as I could. Didn’t want to be seen as improper! Believe me, I wish I wasn’t self-conscious about when I yawn, but there’s trauma behind it.

Teachers should really mind their language when correcting a child that isn’t theirs. God, it infuriates me even now the way I was treated. They had no right doing what they did. Saying what they did!

I rolled my eyes and felt my annoyance rise along with the presence of a headache. I grumbled under my breath.

‘Idiot, now you’ve gone and given yourself a headache!’ I thought as I began to quicken my pace.

I knocked at Tommy’s door, again out of courtesy. I knew he wasn’t home. I grabbed his key, unlocked the door, and walked right in. I ran up the stairs and into his room where I set his basket down on the bedroom bench. I dusted my hands and hurried down the stairs. My breasts bounced as I did so.

Look, I was just painfully aware that they did so as I made my way down, okay?

I walked right to the kitchen and checked his refrigerator. I let out a sigh of relief when I saw that he had eaten the dinner I had prepared for him the night before.

It meant that I didn’t have to throw out good food.

I studied the ingredients in his fridge, that I jam packed, and settled on fish and chips. I took out the ready-made fish cuts, grabbed a bowl, filled it with hot water, and then set the cuts in there to defrost. I left the hot water running. I grabbed a couple of potatoes, washed them, and then began peeling.

It would take me quite a while to get this done. And, I was expected to make dinner at the other house too!

God, I want to go to sleep!

A whine slipped out as I stomped my foot.

What we do for things we want to do, eh?

By the time I was done cooking, the sun was down ‘n my stomach was attacking itself. I sighed heavily as I used the tongs to place the chips on his plate. I twirled around to place the pan back on the stove, wiped my hands on a napkin, and then grabbed the salt shaker. I turned back and sprinkled some more salt on the chips. Then I stood there. I stood there and looked at the meal I made for a man who might not even eat it.

I bit my lip and started wringing my hands tightly. After a grueling, ‘should I, should I not,’ I sat down in front of the meal abruptly and dug in. I don’t know why, but the meal tasted so much more flavorful than usual. I haven’t had fish and chips in ages, but it wasn’t that. Maybe it was the exhaustion or the fact that I made this meal in mind of another person, but the flavors just popped.

I’m just glad that my serving sizes reflected my mother’s. Which basically meant that I cooked enough food for, at most, another two servings. When I finished eating, I washed it all down with a cup of water then I had to plate again, and wash the plate I ate from.

When it was all said ‘n done, I made a beeline for the couch and flopped down on it. I grunted from the impact and groaned even louder. Everything ached!

I flipped ‘round, kicked off my heels, and let my hair down. I carelessly threw the pins on the little table next to me, and brought my knees to my chest. I tucked a couch pillow between my head and arm, the hand of this arm would be tucked under the pillow as my arm would rest on top of that one. Basically, the fetal sleeping position with a hand tucked under the pillow.

This was usually the only way I could go to sleep.

I let my eyes flutter shut and made a promise. ‘Just for a few minutes.’

“Ali.”

…

“Ali!”

I sat up with a sharp gasp. My heart was poundin’ out of my chest. It felt like a panic attack. I looked up at Tommy, who was standing over me.

“Have a nice nap, Ali?”

I just focused on getting my heart rate down.

While rolling a ciggie across his bottom lip, he asked. “There a reason why you’d be so tired? Who was it that you’re dating now? Brian? Henry? No, James! That’s his name.” His tone sounded so sarcastic that I found it to be cruel.

It felt like he was judging me.

I scoffed as I rubbed my eyes. “His name was Joseph and we broke up like a week ago.” I watched him sit down, his elbows resting on his knees. “You know what, why do you even care?”

I couldn’t even get my point across as he interrupted me with a sharp scoff. He took a short drag before saying, “If it affects your ability to do your job, then yes, Aliena. I care.”

I averted my eyes and replied through a semi-hidden pout. “But it hasn’t affected my job.”

“What else do you call this nap?”

My head snapped toward him and I threw him a look of pure confusion. “I was tired, Tom! Why else does one take a fucking nap?”

“Why would you be tired?”

I raised an eyebrow as I scoffed. “I had-! I didn’t sleep last night, okay! I-I’m…” I groaned as I threw myself back against the couch ‘n threw an arm over my eyes.

It was a big lie. I was asleep for like three hours! I had to get everything ready and exercise in preparation for today’s target. Time passed quickly and before you know it I had to make breakfast ‘n then work in the shop for a little.

I knew I won this little squabble when I heard a sigh. I barely managed to register it by the way, but I heard it, nonetheless.

“Right, well. Today it’s your insomnia, but tomorrow it can be because of something else.”

I squinted my eyes as I tried to decipher what the fuck he just said to me.

“Perhaps, it would be best if you put off dating for a while. Seems like you’re having bad luck as it is. Focus more on your job.” He heaved as he rose to his feet and began walking to the kitchen.

It was like his words finally registered as I rushed to my feet and shouted after him. “Hey, what’s up with you?”

“Nothing is up with me, Aliena.” He replied as he was pulling out his chair and sat down.

I noticed that he hadn’t poured himself anything to drink. I groaned loudly raising my arms as I did so, and marched back into the living room. “Yes, there is!” I shouted. “You’ve got a cob on ‘n you’re taking it out on me.” I poured him some whiskey and walked back to the kitchen. “You know what, you’ve been cross abar me goin’ on dates from the beginning! Why? You and the rest of the family were beggin’ me to find a fella ‘n now— what? You’ve had a change of heart.”

I slammed the whiskey down in front of him. I placed my hands on my hips and asked teasingly, a smile on my face as well. “Do you not like the idea of losing me, Tommy? Is that it? Afraid I’m going to be whisked away by some fella? Or! Do you want me to be more independent? Thinkin’ more modernly, lately, or what?”

Tommy had raised the glass to his lips, but set it back down by the time I was done talking. He gave me this deadpan stare that did not help my giggling.

We continued to stare at each other. While he was donning an emotionless expression, my dumb-arse was flinching up a storm. Whether it was twitches from my head or my hands. Plus the incessant laughing and ever changing facial expressions. Eventually, when my face and stomach began to hurt— I nipped my bottom lip harshly and took a deep breath.

It was then that I noticed that his jaw was clenched. I couldn’t figure out why for the life of me. I averted my eyes and took a seat. My eyes kept drifting back to Tom as I waited for him to say something, but he just kept his stoic expression for a while more. Tommy sniffed and cleared his throat as he removed the napkin covering his food, and took his utensils into his hands.

I wanted to scoff, but something was telling me that he didn’t say anything for a reason.

‘Maybe he refrained from humiliating me?’ I thought, trying to rationalize his behavior.

I took a deep breath before saying, “Well, fine, Tom. You win. I’ll lay off the scene for a while.” I crossed my legs and pulled my dress down. I leaned forward and rested my head in my hand.

Tommy took a swig of whiskey before he said. “Polly rang and said that you didn’t have to worry about making dinner. Said that you looked pale when you came back from your break this evening, and that she had a suspicion you would doze off at one of our flats.”

I chuckled as I drummed my fingers on the table. “Am I that predictable?”

Tommy looked me in the eyes and said. “Yes, you are.”

I sat up straight, my smile falling from my face.

Silence enveloped us, and I felt the urge to run and cry in more room grow by the second. I cleared my throat and rose to my feet. “Well, I better be heading back. Good night, Tommy.” I turned around and began making my way to the entrance.

However, I didn’t get ten steps in before Tommy called after me. “Wait!” His chair scraped along the tile loudly behind me.

I stopped where I stood and slowly faced him. His head was hanging and he was holding himself up by his arms.

Tommy looked up at me and tsked. “Stay. … For a little while more.”

I scrunched my eyebrows. “Did you need something, Tommy?”

He breathily replied. “No. Just. Want you to stay a little while more.” He hung his head again by the end of his words.

I gave him a small smile. “Okay, then. I’ll stay.” I walked back over to the chair and sat back down. As did he.

I figured he wouldn’t like me just watching him as he ate, so I resorted to talking to him about my days. Just like old times.

I guess I managed to loosen him up a bit because he brazenly began to ask me about my romances. I, of course, told him the exact same things I’ve told Polly. To the T. I couldn’t afford to add on since they probably talk about this with each other, as they did with everything else.

I managed to make him laugh twice. And, of course, it was at my expense. Bastard.

I noticed that Tom was done eating, so I rose to my feet while reaching for his empty plate. “All done, Tom?” I asked as I walked around the table and to the sink.

He let out a quick, “Yeah.”

So, I cleaned the dish. There was a short comfortable silence before Tommy stood beside me ‘n cleared his throat. I wiped the plate dry while glancing at him through my peripherals.

Tommy took an audible breath before asking, “How is Freddie?”

I averted my eyes at the question. I sniffed. “He’s… He’s not getting better, Tom.”

Tom took the plate from my hands, which made me stare up at him. Emotionless, he was. “Tom…”

He cut me off, asking, “Has Ada told you anything? Or have you heard about his condition from the doctor?”

I swallowed as I watched him put away the plate in the cupboard. “They, uh…” God, I was awful at this. And because I was talking so much, my fatigue was up again. “The doctor said that Freddie has a more severe case of the disease, and that he has anywhere from six months to a few years. Can’t tell, he said.” I crossed my arms and hugged myself. I muttered. “Said you can never know with tuberculosis.”

Slowly, Tommy leaned on the sink. His eyes were wide, his jaw slack. He looked vulnerable and… heartbroken. It broke my heart to see him like this.

Before I could even utter a word of my sympathies, I was being pulled into his arms. His breath was tickling my neck, so I had to bite my tongue harshly to prevent myself from giggling.

The last time he was like this, he found out that Grace had been the traitor. I don’t know why, but I wasn’t expecting Tom to be so affected by Freddie’s illness. The two had just been so cross with each other that the fact they used to be best friends completely went over my head. They were childhood friends, at that. Maybe if I’d seen the relationship they had, I’d be more sympathetic, but… I can’t say Freddie’s illness bothered me to this extent. He was simply sick...and dying.

Freddie only lasted a season, so there wasn’t much time to get his character development ‘n such. Even if he had, I’d doubt that I’d grow an attachment to ‘em. Freddie was borderline abusive, in my opinion. He reminded me of my sister’s ex-boyfriend, the one who touched me. I’m not saying Freddie is capable of molestation, but from what I remember about the day Polly went to see him at his mother’s grave— everything he did after that didn’t sit right with me. Plus, the time where he took his anger out on Ada while she was pregnant.

Nobody is a saint, but those actions spoke volumes to me ‘n I grew wary around him. I’m not saying that he deserves to die. He doesn’t. But, nor do I care much about his ailment either.

I ran a hand through his hair, bringing him closer to me, and he did the same to me. I can’t deny that I shivered from the action, his cold hand running through my hair. We were hugging so tightly that I could hardly breathe.

“Tommy!” I gasped out. I waited for a response, but he gave me nothing. I called his name out again and again and again.

“Please.” His lips smacked. “Just-! Just a little while longer.”

I hummed and rubbed his back.

Tommy let out a sigh before saying, “Nobody came back the same. Nobody. Freddie… Freddie took a bullet for me ‘n what have I done, eh? What have I done with that chance he gave me?”

Though, I wanted to respond. Though, I wanted to comfort him and silence the noise in his head. I knew better than to interrupt someone in a rant.

“We-We used to be so close, you know. He was my best mate, but I made a promise to meself that I’d change. I’d change this family for the better. I’d protect it better. Freddie! Freddie wanted to change the world, still. Still wanted revolution. But a war like that takes time and- and connections and money.” He scoffed. “It’s not happening in this lifetime, that’s for sure. Status, money, and violence is what makes the world go round. Not justice and pretty words.” He laughed, dryly.

He couldn’t see with my face hidden in his neck, but my face contorted harshly. I felt like crying from his words. His tone was so strained and full of pain.

“But, it seems that there was still some part of me that hoped that he could do it. That he and Ada could change the world. And now, now… I’m losing him to the same fucking disease.”

Greta, he was talking about Greta.

My mouth moved before I could stop it. “Greta, right?” His hold on me loosened, and funnily enough— the separation allowed for some fresh air to squeeze in.

He hummed in confirmation. “Who blabbered to you about her, eh?”

“It was Freddie, actually.” He held me tight again. When he didn’t say anything else, I took it as my turn to speak. “You know, Tom, you’re right in acknowledging that you all came back different. You focused on the small, your family while Freddie focused on the big, the government. Nobody-!” I sighed while averting my eyes. “I don’t blame you for that. I’m sure you both actually held the same dream.”

“What dream would that be?” He whispered.

While I didn’t break the hug, I shifted us around so that I could cradle his face. “To protect your family.” His eyebrows furrowed and his lip quivered before he left out a snicker. “What!” I exclaimed. “Okay, maybe not just your family, but you know what I mean! Families all over.” He was still snickering as he bent down and hid his face in my neck. “Oh, do one. You know what I meant, Thomas Shelby.”

Once his snickering was under control, I added. “You know, it’s not too late to make amends. He’s still running around London, preaching of his revolution. Plus, there’s always the chance-!”

“No, no there’s not, Ailena.” His head shot up and his hands held my face. My hands, on reflex, went to remove his grip, but I took a deep breath and rested my hands on his. “He’s not miraculously gonna get better. You said it yourself. The doctor said his condition is severe.”

I hummed and muttered “is right”. There was a silence that dropped between us again. But this one was different. His eyes kept glancing up and down, but at what? ‘Was there something on my face?’ I wondered as I was admiring his eyes. I could never get tired of looking at his baby blues.

But then reality interrupted as he cleared his throat and dropped his hands from my face. We both took a step back, and I shyly hung my head. Then, I started rocking on my heels till I made finger guns as I walked into the living room.

Tommy said. “Thanks for…”

I cut him off. “You don’t have to thank me, honestly.”

“Well, then. At least let me take you back to the ‘ouse.”

I chuckled loudly. “Fine then! But I’m warning ya now, I’m super tired, right now. That means I’ma talk your ear off!” I grabbed my coat off the hanger as he opened the door for us.

Tommy scoffed while holding the door open, his head tipping back and a grin on his face. “Like I’m not used to it.”

“Ha!” I shouted while twirling around to face him as he was locking the door. “Az if! It’s been a while since you’ve had to deal with me at night.”

“Sure, but doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten the experience. That sort of damage lasts a lifetime.”

I gasped and smacked his arm.

I was thinking about Tommy’s smiling face as I traced the rim of my martini.

I didn’t focus on the lavish scene around me. I was wearing a black wig that had the cut of a bob in a red dress. I was standing at the bar of this hotel. People were seated in tables behind me, their conversations were loud over the soft music playing. There were a few people and couples standing at the bar with me, but they were far away from me.

Ever since Grace, he’s been more serious. Keeps more things bottled up. I mean I don’t blame him. Probably feels that he needs to be more guarded since it was so easy for Grace to infiltrate, you know? Maybe I hurt him too.

I laughed to myself, a hand hovering over my mouth. I took a couple of stumbling steps, making sure it looked like I was having a hard time standing up straight. While I was playing the part of a drunken damsel, nothing could break the concentration I had on my black clutch.

Tonight’s target was a poor excuse of a human being who liked to take advantage of women. Rough sex, rape, the whole fucking sha-bang! He’s been known to take a drunk woman up to his room and have his way with her. Practically gloated about it.

“Hello, pretty lady. All alone tonight, are you?”

I let out a soft, “Ha!” I took a swig of my drunk before facing him. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” My words were purposefully slurred.

“I would very much.”

God, he was so not my type. I was gonna have to put my mouth on his. He has a mustache too! Well, if Tommy looked like Cillian did in Free Fire— I wouldn’t be opposed to it.

I scoffed before giving him a sultry smile. “Well, I am. Alone.”

“Ah!” He drawled out while closing the distance between us.

He smelled rancid. I bit my tongue to stop my face from contorting in disgust.

“How about I buy another round for us, huh?”

I kept my smile as I replied. “That would be great!”

I had to entertain this guy for a while till he suggested that we should do somewhere more private. That meant going up to his hotel room. I accepted and “drunkenly” walked with him to the elevator.

I did nothing as he slammed my limp body against the wall of the elevator as basically inhaled my mouth. I let him grope my body and my only solace was knowing we would be in his room any second and the grip I had on my clutch.

The elevator finally stopped and he took a step back from me. I panted for breath as I covered my mouth. He looked down at me as if he’d won something. As if he was saying, “There’s more where that came from.”

He yanked the gate of the elevator back and tugged me forward. I said nothing and followed him. I clinged to his arm as he led us to his room. Once he opened the door, he was on me again.

I could feel him bend down and his hand tapped my thigh. I jumped on his command and wrapped myself around him, clutch still in-hand. He walked us into the room, slamming the door shut using his foot. Then, he walked us over to the bed and threw me on it.

I groaned on impact and I let my clutch fall to the ground. He climbed over me, pressed his mouth on mine, and started to hike up my dress. My hands clawed at his. I desperately tried preventing him from hiking up my dress.

‘I am still in control.’ I thought.

I did a quick maneuver, so that I was on top of him.

“What the fuck!”

“Please.” I said. “Let me take care of everything.”

In an instant, the look of anger vanished from his face into a shit-eating grin.

“You want me this badly, huh? Well, go on. Get to it.”

I kissed him a couple of more times before I began to unbutton his shirt. I left a trail of kisses behind. Then, swung my leg off of him. I rose to my feet. I pretended to take off my heels, but I was really picking up my clutch.

I could hear his exciting panting which told me he was focusing on the pleasure and not on me. I quickly opened my clutch and took out the syringe. I let my clutch fall to the floor twice to mimic the sound of shoes falling to the ground.

I walked to the end of the bed, keeping the syringe hidden by holding it vertical in my palm against my arm. I placed it carefully by his feet and then began taking off his shoes.

When his feet were bare, he finally spoke.

“Hurry up, will you? For fuck’s sake.”

I uncapped the syringe, stuck it between his big toe and the second, and then emptied its contents. I watched as horror contorted his face. His eyes went wide as his jaw slacked.

I cleared my throat as I wiped my mouth. I walked over to where I left my clutch, picked it up, and laid it on the bed. I could hear him let out pathetic little gasps. I leaned over his face, his eyes looking up at the ceiling.

“Don’t worry. It’ll all be over soon. In a few minutes, actually.” I looked at him and felt nothing. With my finger, I stroked his cheek. “I’ve been ordered to make your death look natural. I don’t know why nor do I care to know. However-!” I gripped his chin and made him look at me. “I know you were a very bad man who did very bad things, especially to women.” I smiled and while pursing my lips I said. “See this as your karma.” I chuckled while letting go of my grip on his chin.

The same time I rose to my feet, I could hear the laughter of men.

‘What the fuck? What were they planning a gangbang?’

I reached down and slid out the knife I hid in my heel. I quickly turned around and slit his throat. He instantly started gurgling. Two men entered the room, not altered. They came in while talking to one another. I held out an arm to steady my aim and then threw my knife at one of them.

The man fell to the ground while barely clutching his chest.

I made work of the armchair between me and the man still standing. While he had taken out his gun, it wouldn’t help as I launched myself from the chair, my knee hitting his chest, and knocking him down.

I took the gun from his grasp, turned ‘round to the man who was holding my knife, and fired two shots. One to the heart and one to the chest.

I looked down at the man with my heel on his throat. “Are there more coming?”

“Fuck you.”

I pressed down harder. “Are there more coming?” I shouted.

“Yes.”

I shot him in the head, hurried over to the door, and then crouched down. I could hear men approaching. They were talking loudly, probably exchanging orders. I waited until one came into my view.

There were two of them. I grabbed the one closest to me and his gun went off. He turned to me to which I did not waste the opportunity to shoot him twice in the chest. The other guy used that time I was focused on his partner to grab my wrist and move my gun away from his head. With a grip still on my wrists, I grunted out in pain as he began to deliver blows to my side.

I whipped my head forward and then back. He cried out loudly. I fought to free myself from his grip. I managed to twist myself around in his arms and send a blow to his inner thigh that had him buckling. I gained some control just in time to shoot the man who was walking in, but his grip on me was still strong. He rose to his feet, threw my arms on top of the armchair, and disarmed me.

I quickly elbowed him in the face and his head flew back. I composed myself and readied myself for his next attack. He tried punching me, but I blocked it. He attempted it again, but I grabbed his wrist in time to notice the figure creeping up in my vision.

I made the decision to flip up onto the ground, effectively avoiding machine gun fire. I kept my grip on his arm tight to the point where he was moaning in pain. I guided us up and used him as my shield. My focus was completely on the man holding the machine gun.

The man I was holding was begging his comrade not to shoot, but I was more concerned by how close he was getting. I walked us forward, threw him to his friend, and quickly sent the man who was holding the machine gun— a punch to his face. I quickly latched onto the machine gun.

The man I threw, sprung back up and before he could attack, I sent him flew back with a kick to the chest. I elbowed the man holding the machine gun again which made him hold onto the trigger. I aimed to gun at the other man, killing him. I couldn’t help but smile as he was sent back with his hands flailing in the air.

The man who was attached to the gun got a grip on my hair. I grunted in pain as he twirled us around to a different airchair in the room. I got a better grip on the gun and drove it into his chest. He let out sharp yelp. I hit him with the gun again, this time in the face.

Though I felt an arm wrapped around my neck, I kept my cool and drove my elbow into his torso. He groaned. I gripped the arm that was wrapped around my neck and then used my other hand to get a grip on the back of his neck. I flipped him off me and onto the armchair. Which he fell off of.

I didn’t waste anytime retrieving my knife back, kicking the body off of my blade with a disgusted cry. Once I slid back in my knife, I hurried over to the body, scooped up some of his blood, and smeared it on my face and chest. I, also, grabbed a gun and finished off the other two I had knocked out.

I walked into the hallway and when the voices of men were near my proximity— I began crying out for help.

One of them held me in his arms. I tried my hardest to appear distraught and pleaded with them to help the man I had killed. The man holding me led me to the elevator and promised to get me to safety.

As we were on the elevator, my hands skimmed over his second gun in his waist holster.

‘That’ll come in handy.’

When the elevator ride was over, he sat me down and ordered me not to move. As he turned away, I took the liberty of relieving him of his gun. I was on my feet not a heartbeat later. I blended in with the stampede of people who were rushing to get out of the hotel.

When I separated from the herd, I reached down, tore a piece of my dress and hopefully, wiped away the blood on my face. I ran down two streets to nick a car.

It would be an understatement to say that I’m angry.

I yanked off the wig I was wearing as I was driving, pins ‘n all. I ruffled my hair out while huffing. My eyes drifted to the middle of the car, looking for a clock. I groaned when I remembered what time period I was living in.

With one hand threaded in my hair and the other on the wheel, I just focused on getting to the mansion as fast as I could.

I was going over my conversation with Dom in my head before it happened.

Was I going to accuse him of not giving me all the Intel on purpose? Was I going to swallow my anger and just demand proper compensation for the additional kills? Would I even be docked pay because the hit was ordered as a natural death, and it ultimately was very fucking messy?

I huffed and finally placed both of my hands on the wheel while increasing my pressure on the gas.

I pulled up to the mansion with a screeching halt. I ignored the henchmen that came toward me and tried to prevent me from storming the place. I made a beeline to Dom's office and hurt anyone who got in my way.

I pushed open the double doors so harshly, they slammed against the wall.

"We need to talk." I demand.

I could hear the beginnings of spluttering behind me. "S-Sir! We tried to stop her, but the orders and sh-she fought back."

Dom didn't turn around as he continued to gaze out the window. A glass in his dominant hand. With a flick of his wrist, he said. "Leave us."

His henchman attempted to plead so more, but Dom repeated himself— louder this time.

With a clear voice, I said. “There were other men.” I let out a huff and sucked at my teeth for showing my emotions so blatantly. “He orchestrated nonconsensual orgies! I took out the ones that posed a threat.” I let my voice trail off as I began to rub my wrist incessantly.

“How many?” He asked.

I swallowed silently as I tried to recall. “Not including the target, seven extra kills.”

“Were you hurt?”

I furrowed my eyebrows at the questions. Of course, I had to fight for my life. Of course, I was hurt. “Uh, yes. I was dealt a few blows but I didn’t sustain any slashes or gunshot wounds.”

“No, Aliena. Were you hurt?”

There was an insinuation behind his words that I understood perfectly. “No.” I whispered. “No, I held my own.”

Dom finally turned around and I could see the anger in his face. It was subtle.

I remember a time where I swore I could never read faces. But I don’t know ever since I woke up here, my body hasn’t been the same. Maybe it was this body, or perhaps it was all that time I spent with Tommy.

He slammed his glass down, which made me flinch, and then leaned against his desk. He let out a shuddering breath before he sniffed loudly, stood up straight, and pointed at me. “The target was an important one for which you would have been paid 25,500. However, now it will be 43,800. Now, leave. I’ll have Richard give you the payment tomorrow.”

I was stunned for a second before I bowed and left the house as fast as a cat running out of a rainstorm. It wasn’t until I was out on the road that I realized that I had bowed to him as if he were some fucking king!

‘Damn you and your kinks! You bloody better beaut!’ I thought. My actions spurred on my “tics” or fidgets, I call them. I was repeatedly flicking my nose, scrunching up my face, and smacking my hand over my mouth. They calmed down after a while. Exhaustion was eating me up as was pain in my side.

The fucker really got me there.

Usually, I would have ditched the car a few cities back and just run on back home, but I was so tired. I ditched the car down a hill where I knew there had been water at the end and marched back home with my wig in hand.

When I was finally standing in front of the flat’s door, I groaned to myself. I slapped my cheeks repeatedly as I prepared myself to get back into stealth mode. I made sure to step on certain spots on the floor to decrease their squeaks, and open and close doors at a snail’s pace. The stairs were the hardest. Switching between taking one and two at a time.

By the time I entered my room, I’d ripped my clothes off me and thrown them and my wig aside. I carelessly put on a night gown and settled myself into bed. Fortunately, soon after my head hit my pillow I was asleep.

“Aliena, love! It’s time to get up!” Polly shouted as she pounded her fist against my door.

I shot up and realized I was awake now. My face contorted as I began to sob, my arms crossing over my eyes the same time as I threw myself back down on my bed.

I whimpered out. “I’m so tired!”

TAG LIST: @amirahiddleston @nemesis729 @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @tlfshelby1 @halepea @lilymurphy03 @marsfireeyes @masumiyetimziyanoldu @i-love-superhero @thatweirddaydreamer @xxbeckybeexx-blog @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch

#in another world #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby angst #thomas shelby fluff #thomas shelby x oc #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders imagine

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gracedpersassonality · 3 years

Text

The Best Present - A Little Christmas Story

I wish we were kissing under mistletoe

The stars on the sky just can't match your glow

Now I can't wait 'til you're by my side

We'll be warm by the fire all night, oh

I wanna hold you while the bells are all ringing

Want you to be here while the angel's singing

Days are perfect when I got you near

My only wish is you here

Christmas Without You - Ava Max

The snow was slowly falling in big white flakes to the ground and covered everything with a beautiful thick coat. The streets were empty and everything was peaceful silent. Percy was shivering from the cold and pulled his scarf a bit tighter. He was running late as usual. Leo invited all of them for Christmas eve to his home like he did every year. He loved the tradition. And the food. And the decorations. And the fact that mostly everyone of their friends was able to come. It was far too seldom that all of them saw each other.

Percy went a bit faster which wasn't easy because the floor was icy and slippery and he was carrying his Secret Santa present for Annabeth in both hands and balanced the blue homemade chocolate chip cookies from his mother on top of it.

He almost made it safe to Leo's front door. Almost. On the path to the house was ice under the snow and Percy slipped, pressing the gift and the cookies to his chest, trying to catch himself. "Woah! Watch out!" Jason shouted before he grabbed him in the last second and made him standing still again. "Gotcha" he chuckled.

"Oh gods thank you. You saved me and the cookies." Percy said breathless.

"For the sake of the cookies look where you're going the next time." Jason joked.

"Yes... You're right. The next time I just fly to the door. No big deal." Percy replied sarcastically looking into Jason's bright blue eyes. They sparkled in the Christmas lights and reflected all the different colours. Percy can't help it and a goofy grin spread over his face which Jason mirrored. The snowflakes has covered Jason's blond hair, which made it look white and his cheeks where light red from the cold. This was one of these moments Percy got totally lost. He just want to take a picture and framed it that's how beautiful Jason looks in these light.

He was shaking his head to clear his mind, he was getting creepy again. He really had fallen for Jason in the last year. There were these moments when they looked at each other a second too long or when they touched accidentally. But it never happend more than this. They never cross the line that would end their friendship. Percy still waited for the perfect moment to confess his love. He was to afraid that he just interpreted too much in their interactions. Maybe Jason was just too dense to get the hints Percy dropped time by time. Maybe Percy was just wishing that Jason always seemed to making excuses to touch him or be in his near.

Jason cleared his throat. "Maybe we should go inside."

It took it's time till Percy realised what Jason said. " Yeah I guess so." But both didn't move. They still locked their eyes, smiling like idiots and no one want to look away first. It hit him like a sudden and blinding realization and it dawned to him. This moment seemed to be perfect. "Uhm, Jason? I have to tell you something." Suddenly he was getting really nervous. What if Jason didn't feel the same? Would he believe him? What if he even laugh at him? What if Percy was about to destroy their friendship right now? Maybe he should wait with it after the party. Then he wouldn't ruin it by make it awkward at least. He felt like a coward. He just was searching for excuses.

"What now? Say what's on your mind." Jason face turned serious.

He got an urgent feeling of throwing up. "It's freaking cold and I'm freezing. Let's go inside. Why doesn't the cold bother you too?" He said laughing. Hopefully Jason didn't hear that it was forced. Yep, he definitely was a coward.

They knocked at the with ornaments decorated door and Hazel opened it. The smell of pine, cinnamon and hot chocolate filled the cold evening air and Christmas songs are played in the background. "Ah there you are, we're finally complete. You two are late. What happened?"

"Nothing" Percy said a little bit too fast as he entered the house, hoping that everyone attributed his red face to the change from the cold outside to the warm inside.

"Percy's just being clumsy not more", Jason laughed and entered the house as well.

Both took off their thick coats and scarfs and hang them on the wardrobe. "Nice sweater Percy" Jason teased him.

"I can only give that back." Two years ago Jason had Percy as his secret santa and he got the ugliest sweater Percy could found. It was baby blue with lighting bolts on it which actually can blink. The next year Percy got his payback. Jason bought him a green sweater with tiny waves on it. There were also a button which caused an awful sung christmas song when it was pressed. Percy secretly loved it.

Hazel led them to living room. They were welcomed by 'Merry Christmas Everyone' that was blasted by Leo's sound system. Percy couldn't stop to be surprised how much efford Leo put in the decorations every year. And he tops himself year by year. There was a huge christmas tree with every kind of decoration you could put on. The whole room had it's own christmas themed light installation and Percy really become worried that all of this would end in a short circuit.

The whole crew was spread out in the room. Frank, Reyna and Piper were sitting on the couch chatting and eating from the with sweets filled plates in front of them. Leo and Annabeth standing in the corner bowed over some cables and it seems like he was explaining how he managed the power distribution. Grover, Will and Rachel were standing in front of the music system singing along. Only Thalia wasn't there. She was on the other side of the country and didn't make it this year.

Jason and Percy put their presents under the tree while Hazel took the cookies and put them in the kitchen. As she came back she shoved Nico in the room with the words "You can't stay in there forever." "But there I don't have to deal with all these happy people." He mumbled, but everyone knows that Nico secretly was enjoying the Christmas Partys.

"I'm going to grab us some hot chocolate" Jason declared and vanished in the kitchen. He came back with two steaming cups. Percy has joined their friends on the couch and so did Jason. As he recognized that there were only blue marshmallows in his cup, a smile stole on his face again. He was always smiling when Jason was around.

And so the time passed away with a lot of laughter, crooked sung songs and many happy faces. Even Nico smiled from time to time and everyone was filled with love for their friends.

After everyone had handed over the presents, Percy just leaned back and enjoyed the scene which was chaotic as usual. Annabeth already has started to read in one of the books Percy got her, while Leo was leaning over her shoulder and pointed at something in the book. His socks he got from Grover were flashing like a Christmas tree. Frank with his new purple sweater from Reyna was about to put a necklace around Hazel's neck. Jason gave Nico a new necklace as well and Rachel got a new sketchbook set from Piper and was about to draw her sitting under the Christmas tree. She was reading the voucher she got from Will and Reyna got a new pair of dog leashes and collars from Annabeth. Will was presenting his new shirt from Hazel which fits the one Nico was wearing. Rachel's gift for Grover was a new pair of shoes she has customized. Leo tried to get Thalia home for Christmas but it wasn't possible so he organized a video call for Jason as a compromise solution. And Percy has to keep himself from starring at Jason who was laughing with his sister. Little tears of joy in the corner of his eyes. He himself received new gloves and a matching scarf from Nico.

He was so happy that he can count so many people as his friends. No they were more than friends. This was his second family. And he knew that everyone was feeling the same.

After some time has passed, Jason ended the call and looked a bit sad for a moment, but quickly recovered. His sister was the only one left from his family and it was the first time he was supposed to be alone on Christmas and new year. Percy leaned over to Jason and whispered: "Don't tell anyone but remember me to give you your Christmas gift when we are leaving." Maybe it was against the rules of Secret Santa but he couldn't stop himself to get Jason a present as well.

"That's not fair! I haven't a present for you." He whispered back.

"Nah it's fine. It didn't cost anything so it's totally okay"

"So you made it by yourself? Now I want to know what it is."

"You will see." Percy made his troublemaker smile and looked into Jason prying eyes.

"Hey you two lovebirds, " Reyna interrupted their eye contact with a snap and both turned their heads towards her, "I've asked if you want to play charade with us but you seem to be busy."

"No no. I would love to play! What about you Jase?"

"I'm in!"

Laughter filled the house and in the end nobody knew who won.

It was late. Very very late. Well past midnight. Maybe Percy fall asleep once or twice, he wasn't really sure by himself. "Maybe I should go home soon", he declared with a yawn, his head resting on Jason's shoulder.

"Yeah me too." Jason shifted a bit, so he can look in Percy's tired eyes. "I drive you home. It's cold and dark outside and I don't accept a 'No'."

Percy knew he didn't have a chance to deny. Jason could be very stubborn when it come to situations like this. So he didn't resist and as a bonus he has time to give Jason his gift. After a lot of hugs they were driving to Percy's.

"So the present I was talking about... You still alone on Christmas?" Percy asked softly.

"Yeah but it doesn't matter I'm fine, just having myself a little Merry Christmas you know" Everybody would believe him but not Percy. Jason's voice was a tiny bit rougher than normal.

He could feel his heart nervously beating in his chest. "You can stay with us. I asked mom already and she said she would be very happy if you would join us."

"No I can't." Percy felt his heart stutter. He planned this since he knew that Thalia wouldn't make it. Nobody should be alone. Especially not Jason.

"Why not?"

"It's your family and I don't have any presents. I can't crash Christmas without presents."

Percy let out a released laugh. "That's what you are worried about? Well than you can come with me. I bought too many gifts anyways. We just change the tags. And for me it's really enough when you celebrate with us. How about that?"

A defeated smile stole on Jason's face. "Only if I can give you your money back."

"Alright. If you want to drive home first, you need to pack your things, you can stay at my home. It's already late and so you can't oversleep. " in the joy of Jason saying Yes he invited him spontaneously but regretted it right after saying it. He didn't want to overdo it so hopefully it wasn't a big deal for Jason.

"Unlike you I never oversleep but I would love to stay at your's"

Percy looked with a wide smile outside the car window. This was one was on it's best way to be the best Christmas ever.

As they were finally parking by Percy's mom it's started to snow again. Luckily they didn't have to drive anymore. His house wasn't decorated like Leo's but at least there were Christmas lights and one look at Jason was enough to be reminded of earlier this day. His eyes, it were always his eyes that made Percy fall in love with him a little more. And the way he was smiling at this moment brightened his heart. “You know this is one of the best presents I ever could get? I thought I would be lonely on Christmas." There were tears in his eyes and without thinking Percy hugged him.

"Nobody deserves to be alone if they doesn't want to. And I am so happy you are here with me."

"Thank you." Jason voice cracked and he cleard his throat. Percy let go and before he could start a second try to confess his love he pulled out his key awkwardly and said: "You don't have to thank me. But I'm freezing, let's get inside." At which point in his life he turned in this little coward? The problem was Jason was way too important for him and he didn't want to lose him.

"I guess my family already fall asleep, so we have to be silent." Percy whispered as he opened the door. They entered the house and walked as quiet as possible through the hallway till Jason suddenly stopped.

"You okay?" Percy turned around an looked at him. He seemed to be a bit nervous. Maybe he was afraid what his family could say.

After not answering his question Percy tried to calm Jason. "Hey, you don't have to be afraid or something. My family knows that you are coming with me. And especially Estelle is glad to see you."

"Yeah I know, that's not the problem."

"Then what is it?" Percy started to getting nervous too. What if Jason didn't want to be here and was just too polite to deny and now he regretted it? But Jason seemed so happy to be here a few seconds ago. So what was making him so nervous?

"Look up." He didn't suspect this reply at all and look at the ceiling in confusion.

A mistletoe. There was a mistletoe above him and while Percy still was wondering why it was there, because his mom never hung up one, Jason take a step towards Percy. Percy slowly look back to Jason. He could feel his heart beating in his chest. Jason was starring on his lips. He couldn´t breathe. He couldn´t think. With a glance in his eyes Jason made sure if Percy was okay with this and finally overcome the last few centimeters. Cross the line of their friendship.

And then he kissed him.

Once, twice and then a third time. They couldn´t stop and soon it happend that Jsaon was pressing Percy against the wall. It taste like Christmas and chocolate and it felt like finally coming home.

They only broke away from each other to catch a breath. Jason leaned his forehead against Percy's, while their hearts were racing, both with a big smile on their face and a little bit of disbelive in their eyes. Like this was a wonderful dream. "Merry Christmas, Percy." Jason whispered.

Percy was way too overwhelmed to reply but one glance was enough to know this wasn't just a kiss under the mistletoe. This kiss was the certainty that his feelings wasn't one-sided. This kiss was all he ever wanted. And this kiss was the best present he ever could get for Christmas.

#jercy #percy and jason #jason and percy #jason grace #percy jackson #and yes I still don't know how to use the tags correctly 😂#There is a chance that I wrote the first 1000 words in the end of May and yes I listen to Christmas music in the summer and I'm proud of it

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robronsecretvalentine · 5 years

Photo

for @iwantmessedup

happy valentines day, bella ❤️

where you lead | 6000 words, t

if your teenage son has to explain to you that the fit, grumpy bloke who keeps you in good coffee and thick-cut bacon just asked you out, you probably need to take a good, hard look at yourself aka the gilmore girls au you didn’t know you wanted

:::

Robert’s dying. There’s no other explanation. Head pounding, vision blurred, limbs heavy; he can feel himself weakening with every step.

This is so unfair. There were so many things he wanted to do, so many things he never got chance to say. He was fine when he left the house, he can’t believe this is how it’s going to end for him. The only silver lining is that at least he’ll get to see Aaron one last time.

Somehow, and he really has no idea how, he makes it through the door. Manages to collapse into a stool, drapes himself dramatically across the counter, and closes his eyes to wait for death.

There’s a cough.

Robert prises open an eye. There’s an arm, soft orange plaid rolled at the elbow, forearm corded with muscle, a dusting of dark hair. It’s a perfect arm, Robert likes it very much. Especially when it plonks a cup of steaming coffee right under his nose.

“Drink that and stop whimpering,” the arm says. “You’re scaring all my customers.”

The arm is rude, so Robert ignores it in favour of burying his face in his cup until he comes back from the brink.

When he’s finished he holds his it out for more, musters up a sunny smile.

Aaron eyes him with disdain. “You’re an idiot,” he says, like he does every day.

Robert flashes his teeth. “But I’m your idiot,” he says, like he does every day.

He’s not, obviously, but he likes the way it makes Aaron go pink.

Aaron puts his cup back down in front of him, full again, and hurries off to take someone their breakfast. Robert puts his elbows on the counter, cradles his cup under his nose and breathes. That’s better.

“No Seb today?” Aaron asks, coming back just in time to slap Robert away from the dome of muffins on the counter.

Robert rubs his smarting knuckles. “Revising, not long til exams, is it?”

Aaron leans to fold his arms on his side of the counter, it puts his face close enough to Robert’s that he can smell him; rich coffee and bacon fat. Robert lets his mouth water.

“Yeah he was in here last night, books all over the place, taking up my best table.”

Robert glances over his shoulder to the table in the window, with its bench seat and plump cushions, sunlight falling across it in disjointed rectangles. “You should have told him to bugger off,” he says. “Did he even buy anything?”

Aaron shrugs. “He looked busy, it was fine.”

Aaron always gets sort of misty-eyed whenever they talk about Seb. Ever since Robert fled to the village when Seb was barely walking and Aaron was just a kid. Back when he thought Robert, seventeen and carting a baby round on his hip, was worthy of hero worship. Aaron, gruff and grumbling at the best of times, has doted on Seb, like the rest of village, for as long as Robert can remember, and Robert’s always poked fun at him for it.

“You’ve gone soft,” Robert tells him, sipping at his coffee.

That gets him a glare. “Do you want the bacon sarnie I’m about to put on for you or not?”

“Yes please.”

“Then shut your mouth, you talk too much.”

Robert mimes zipping his lips closed, goes back to his coffee while Aaron does his actual job.

The butty Aaron brings him is dripping with butter and brown sauce, bacon still bubbling. It’s a work of art.

“God,” Robert says vaguely, gazing at his sandwich, “Sometimes, I could actually kiss you.”

Aaron pauses where he’s making someone a drink, sugar skittering across the counter top. He coughs, sweeping it off the edge into his cupped hand and his voice, when he speaks, is frayed around the edges. “It’s just a butty.”

Robert eyes him while he takes a bite. There’s always been something addictive about flirting with Aaron, maybe because Aaron never seems to know what to do with him. Lately, Robert’s been wondering if there might be more to it, but he’d be risking a lot to ask, maybe too much. And the likes the gentle hum in the air between them as it is. Seeing Aaron in the mornings is a treat, something to file away to keep himself going.

Maybe that’s enough.

:::

“I wonder what this is about,” Seb says, jogging a little to catch Robert up.

They crunch up the drive together. Robert still isn’t used to it being light out at this time of night, barely any chill in the air. Summer seems to come earlier every year.

Jesus, he’s starting to sound like his dad.

Robert shudders, passes it off as a shrug. “No idea. When did we last even have a village meeting?”

“After the daffodil incident,” Seb reminds him, and they both a take a second to appreciate the fact that Robert never got caught for that.

“Maybe it’s an Easter thing then?” Robert suggests. “Hey, maybe Pollard wants you to wear the bonnet again.”

Seb bristles. “He can do one. Anyway, I’ve already told him how upset Isaac was to be left out last year, so I think I’m in the clear.”

Robert has to laugh. “You realise Isaac’s going to murder you?”

Seb shrugs, elbows waggling outwards. “Worth it.”

Isaac’s twice Seb’s size, all shoulders and hair to Seb’s coltish limbs and freckles. If Isaac didn’t swallow his tongue every time Seb so much as glanced his way, Robert would worry. As it is, he’s pretty sure Isaac would wear the bonnet without fuss, if Seb asked him nicely enough.

Not that there’s any need to tell Seb that.

The village hall is bustling with people but they manage to snag a pair of seats near the back. Robert catches a glimpse of Aaron on the other side of the room, mussed up hair and the dark of his beard. He’s got his arms folded and a tea towel over his shoulder, obviously wanting to get back to work. Robert stares at the back of his neck, pale and vulnerable above his collar, until he starts to feel weird about it.

Pollard waits until everyone’s seated, before he hops up on the stage. “Good evening, everyone,” he says. “I know it’s unusual to call a village meeting at such short notice but-”

“Mate,” Aaron calls out. “Can you just get on with it? Some of us’ve got businesses to run.”

A murmur of agreement ripples through the room and Pollard puffs up like a blowfish, mouth opening again.

Robert slumps down in his seat and tips his head on to Seb’s bony shoulder to close his eyes. He’s been awake too long for this.

“Wake me up if anything exciting happens,” he says, already tuning out Pollard’s droning voice.

:::

He comes to, when Seb shrugs him awake, to an empty room, only a few last stragglers shuffling out.

“Is it over?” he asks, wiping at his mouth. There’s a patch of dribble on Seb’s shoulder that Robert hopes he wont notice.

Seb stands up, stretching his arms out. “It’s been over for a while. Aaron brought us food.”

There’s a bulging paper bag, rolled at top, and a takeaway cup on the seat beside Robert. Of course Aaron brought them food, Aaron’s perfect.

Oh god, what if Aaron saw all the dribble?

Robert grabs them both, sipping at the coffee as they start the short walk home. “Did I miss much?”

Seb shakes his head. “Plans for a new gazebo by the church, something about the playground, Rodney calling Eric a tiny dictator, the usual. Aaron said you’ve been looking tired and not to tell you that that’s decaf.”

Robert drops the cup he’s holding straight into the bin they’re passing. “He’s really got to stop doing that.”

Seb shrugs. “He worries about you.”

“He doesn’t need to,” Robert says, even though it makes him feel soft inside, like a bruised peach, every time Aaron tries to take care of him. Robert’s been taking care of himself and Seb for so long, he’s always an arse about letting someone else take a turn.

“So you didn’t pull an all nighter at the B&B on Saturday?” Seb asks, eyebrow quirked.

Robert sighs. “You don’t need to worry about me either. There was a leak, someone had to sort it.”

“I know, you said.”

Robert slings an arm around his shoulders, feeling guilty, in spite of himself. Seb’s a good kid, the best. Maybe Robert has been leaving him to his own devices a little too much recently. It’s hard, sometimes, to balance his new manager’s position against the fact that Seb does still need him, even if it isn’t like it was when he was little. “What do you say to movie night tomorrow night then? Just you and me.”

Robert doesn’t think anything will ever compare to the feeling he gets when Seb looks up at him with those big blue eyes, all lit up like that. He wishes he could bottle it, he’d make a fortune.

“Back to the Future marathon?”

Robert nods. “Obviously.”

:::

Robert’s cup is already waiting for him on the counter the next morning, steaming away. There’s a chocolate muffin sat on a little square napkin next to it.

Aaron’s in the corner, taking an order, and Robert ignores him when he looks up, just to be an arse.

“You can’t eat my apology muffin, if you’re not going to forgive me,” Aaron says, going behind the counter to tap away at the till.

Robert shrugs, stuffing some more muffin into his face. “I think it’s the lack of trust between us now, that hurts the most-”

Aaron cuts him off. “Oh fuck off. Tell me you didn’t sleep better last night, tell me.”

“Like a baby,” Robert says, giving up the act. He can’t even pretend to be mad at Aaron these days. “And thanks for the burger.”

There is it, that little flush in Aaron’s cheeks that makes Robert’s heart thump illicitly.

Aaron fidgets adorably for a minute. “You didn’t exactly look up to cooking. What with the pool of dribble and all.”

Robert absolutely does not go red himself, that would be pathetic. “You know how restful I find village meetings.”

“Don’t even get me started on that.”

“As if I would.” Aaron’s disdain for village meetings is well known. Robert’s pretty sure it’s been a literal agenda item on at least two occasions.

Aaron starts wiping the counter down, even though it’s already sparkling. “So, what are you up to this weekend?”

It’s a weird question. Not the sort of polite small talk Aaron usually makes with him. Robert’s spidey sense tingles.

“Friday night tea up at the farm, you know the drill. Then nothing, actually. Nicola and Jimmy are on holiday.”

Aaron nods rapidly, like this is riveting stuff, and Robert turns his weird up to fucking bizarre.

“Are you alright?” Robert asks, because Aaron’s still nodding.

“Fine, yeah,” there’s a pause. “I’m going to a wedding on Friday,” Aaron says brightly, apropos of nothing.

“Are you? Whose?” The B&B is booked out all weekend but he hasn’t heard anything about a local wedding.

“Old school mate,” Aaron says. “They’re having some big marquee do up at Home Farm, hell on earth probably. But I quite liked her at school and we sort of bumped into each other on a night out a few months ago, got to catching up. I got the impression someone had left them a couple of empty seats or something and I couldn’t think of a way to get out of it.”

“Right,” Robert says warily. That might be the most words he’s ever heard Aaron use at once. He hopes he’s not winded.

Aaron looks vaguely embarrassed, like he knows exactly what Robert’s thinking. He’s gone really red as well, hands tapping at the counter. “Don’t suppose you fancy keeping me company? So I don’t have to sit next to an empty chair all night?”

“Or take your mum,” Robert points out.

Aaron laughs loudly enough that an old woman at the end of the counter drops her fork. “Yeah, exactly.”

Robert shrugs. He can think of worse ways to spend an evening than with Aaron. It getting him out of Friday night tea is the cherry on top really. “Why not? Everyone keeps telling me I’m due a day off work so, yeah, sounds like fun.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, course. I’ll come with you.”

Aaron looks baffled, as though this wasn’t his idea in the first place. “Okay,” he says. “Great, thank you. That’s great.”

“It’ll be fun,” Robert tells him, going back to his muffin, mentally sifting through his suits to find something that wont clash with whatever Aaron might wear.

Aaron hovers for a second, mouth open, but the bell dings in the kitchen hatch before he can say anything else.

:::

Seb’s on the settee when Robert gets home, feet up on the coffee table. He’s barely more than a tuft of ginger hair and green socks, hidden behind the giant book he’s got his face buried in.

“Grandad rang,” he tells Robert, voice muffled.

Robert makes a face. Great. “You’re going to have to go for tea by yourself on Friday,” he says breezily.

Seb appears from behind his book, visibly suspicious. “Why?”

Robert busies himself putting the kettle on. “I’ve got a thing.”

“What sort of thing?”

“Just a thing,” he doesn’t actually know why he’s being so cagey until Seb speaks again.

“A date thing then. You can’t swerve Grandad’s for a some woman. Or bloke. He’ll go mad.”

“It’s not a date.”

Seb’s eyes roll. God, sometimes he looks so much like his mother. “What then?”

“Aaron’s friend’s getting married, I said I’d go with him, that’s all.”

Seb’s face splits open, grin rising like the sun. “Finally.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re going to a wedding with Aaron,” Seb says, speaking very slowly, like Robert is very elderly and perhaps hard of hearing. “As his date.”

Robert shakes his head. “It’s not a date.”

It definitely hadn’t sounded like a date when Aaron had asked. If Aaron was going to ask him out, if they were actually going to go there, Robert would have noticed.

“Dad,” Seb says, climbing over the back of the settee because he’s an animal. “Of course it’s a date. You’re going to wear a suit and eat food. That’s a date.”

“What would you know about it?”

Oh god. Aaron’s going to be wearing a suit.

Seb folds his arms. “You let me watch too much TV.”

“That’s definitely true,” Robert scrubs a hand through his hair, stomach knotting up when he thinks about Aaron, pink-cheeked and stuttering, asking him to fill a chair. “Oh god. It’s a date, isn’t it?”

Seb’s face is sympathetic, which is nice, but his nod is still smugger than Robert appreciates.

“Does he know it’s a date?” If Robert didn’t notice, maybe Aaron didn’t either.

“Make me one,” Seb says, nodding at the coffee cups sitting forgotten by Robert’s elbow. “And don’t be ridiculous. Aaron’s been in love with you ever since he worked out how his personal parts worked.”

Robert goes hot all over, can’t do a thing to stop it, he has to turn away to hide whatever his face is doing. “No he hasn’t. And please never say personal parts again.”

“Dad,” Seb says, stepping up behind him to squeeze his shoulders. “Everyone knows you like each other. You don’t have to stay single forever just for me, you know? I like Aaron, and I want you to be happy. Plus, you’re not exactly getting any younger here, are you?”

Robert resists the urge to check his reflection in side of the toaster. “Thanks for that.”

“And Aaron’s pretty okay looking, right? And he owns his own business. You could do a lot worse.”

“Please stop talking.”

Seb wanders back over to his books when Robert hands over his coffee, and Robert’s left at the kitchen table with nothing more than a churning belly and too many wrinkles.

Fuck. It’s a date.

A date.

He’s got a date with the only person who’s ever made his breath catch and he hadn’t even realised it was happening. He’s a fucking idiot.

He’s fucking fucked.

:::

Aaron looks good enough to sink ships. Of course he does. It’s actually unfair how well he’s filling out that suit jacket, Robert’s fingers are already itching to touch and they haven’t even made it out of the car yet.

To make matters worse, all Aaron had done is give Robert a once over when he’d opened the door, nodded, said, “You’ll do,” and turned to go before Robert could even pocket his wallet. He’s barely said three words since.

When they pull up outside Home Farm, Robert stops him before Aaron can get out of the car. “Are you alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Robert gives him a look, watches a woman totter past the window in uncomfortable looking heels when Aaron wont look at back him. “You just seem a bit on edge?”

Either that or he’s regretting the whole thing.

Aaron scrubs both hands over his face, grinds the heels into his eye sockets. “Sorry,” he says, sounding pained. “I’m no good at all this.”

“All what?”

“This,” he waves a hand between them, and at the marquee set up on the grass, brightly coloured bunting fluttering in the breeze. “Weddings and that. I don’t know half these people, it’s just-”

For someone who works in customers service, Aaron is terrible with people, that’s always been true. It’s sort of one of Robert’s favourite things about him, that he gets to be on the inside of all that, see the marshmallowy centre.

Robert nudges him with an elbow. “Well that’s what you’ve got me for isn’t it, like, a buffer or whatever,” Aaron frowns at him, like Robert’s missing the point completely, and Robert hurries to continue. “You don’t have to talk to anyone except me, if you don’t want to. Pretend it’s just the two of us.”

He watches, fascinated, as Aaron’s ears turn red. “Just us,” Aaron says, nodding slowly.

Robert feels the air turn syrupy between them when Aaron doesn’t look away, and he’s half a breath from doing something ridiculous, like trying to hold Aaron’s hand, when a car pulls into the space beside them, blocking out the light, and the moment drops away.

:::

The wedding is beautiful; Aaron’s friend Bella looks amazing, her fella looks at least half as good, and the ceremony is as moving as it can be, given that Robert hasn’t got a clue who these people are or how they met or if they’re even a good match. But the bloke gets properly choked up during his vows, enough that one of the bridesmaids leans over to offer a tissue, which even Robert can’t pretend wasn’t pretty cute.

The marquee is decked out with wild flowers and fairy lights, pops of colour everywhere. Robert and Aaron share an impressed look as they’re herded in to find their table.

Aaron doesn’t seem to know anyone at the table any more than Robert does, so they mostly keep to themselves. The soup is a bit shit and the chicken is dry but they get sticky toffee pudding for dessert and Robert doesn’t drip anything down his front so he can’t really complain. Plus it was free.

He watches Aaron scrape his final plate clean with his spoon, watches his lips go sticky sweet, and has to fight down that urge again, the one that’s been popping up all day, wanting him to put his arm across the back of Aaron’s chair, lean in to drag his nose up that soft looking patch of skin behind Aaron’s ear. The one that wants to overstep the mark, just to see if Aaron will let him.

He pinches the tip of his tongue between his teeth instead and keeps his hands to himself.

They toast the bride and groom about forty times with bitter, wedding package cava, and when Robert excuses himself to head for the makeshift bar, to get them both a proper drink, he’s not exactly surprised to find Aaron at his heels.

“Let me get them,” Aaron’s saying. “You’re only putting up with this for me.”

“Oh yeah. Spending an evening with you looking like that,” Robert says, eyeing Aaron up and down. “What a hardship.”

Aaron rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

“I mean it,” Robert leans up beside him while Aaron orders them both a beer. “You should wear a suit more often.”

Aaron’s tongue appears, wetting at his lips. “Shut up.”

“You know, you really need to learn how to take a compliment.”

Aaron’s eyes cut to him, and Robert keeps his gaze perfectly steady even though the intensity there is something he wants to shy away from. This is him and Aaron, there’s no reason for his heart to be racing. “You look good too,” Aaron says.

Robert strokes a hand down his tie, says, “Of course I do,” like he isn’t preening under the attention, like he hasn’t spent the last couple of years looking at Aaron just to see if Aaron will look back.

They find a corner to drink their pints, and then another, and another. By the time they’re both loose enough in the shoulders to be laughing together, pointing out who’s probably having an affair with who and speculating about how long the tissue bridesmaid has been round the back of the tent with the best man, Bella and whateverhisnameis are twirling around the makeshift dance floor to Toploader. Which Robert privately thinks is a bit naff, given that it’s not actually all the way dark out yet. Also it’s overcast.

“Maybe it means something to them,” Aaron says, because Aaron’s a sap at weddings, apparently.

Half the place rushes the dance floor for the second half and even Robert’s foot is tapping by the time the song ends, eases into something softer that he remembers from when he was a kid.

“Come on,” Robert says, making the decision for them. He pulls at Aaron’s arm until he’s got no choice but to join the throng of people swaying away.

Aaron’s got his hands up, protesting. “What are you doing? I’m not dancing.”

And he isn’t really, it’s embarrassing, so Robert takes him by the waist, dragging him in until their bellies bump and Aaron has no choice but to hang on to Robert’s arms for balance. “There you go, that’s better.”

Aaron’s scarlet, shaking his head. “You’re mad, you.”

“When in Rome,” Robert says, has to speak right into his ear to be heard. And he’s immediately aware of how close they are. He can see the jackrabbit of Aaron’s pulse in his throat, can smell the woodsy heat of him, the inescapable musk of coffee underneath it all.

It catches Robert’s breath in his chest, both of them stilling when their eyes meet. Aaron’s gaze dips down to Robert’s mouth and then skitters away again, enough to make Robert’s lips buzz with awareness.

It’s overwhelming, suddenly, how much he wants to press kisses to Aaron’s beer damp mouth, take his time with it, see how far down his chest that blush goes. He wants Aaron as breathless as he feels right now. Robert has never want to kiss someone more, and Aaron isn’t even doing anything, he’s just frozen, staring back at Robert like he wants him to take.

Robert’s not like Aaron though, he’s not a particularly good person at all, and he’s self aware enough to know that the only thing holding him back is that he’s afraid of what might come next. Even if Aaron doesn’t push him away, Robert hasn’t been with someone for more than a handful of nights since he knocked Rebecca up in the toilets of her sister’s engagement party when they were 15. He’s never taken any one home to Seb before.

And he knows Seb approves, but that just makes it even more messy. Seb loves Aaron, just as much as Robert does. Seb’s the one who talked Aaron into buying the cafe five years ago, making a real go of it, eleven years old and mouthing off at Aaron about taking risks – God, it was hilarious.

But there are risks and then there are risks, aren’t there?

Seb has been the axis around which everything has turned for half of Robert’s life. Seb is everything. If Robert messes this up it’s not just his own heart he risks breaking.

So he ducks his head, breaks eye contact to tuck his chin down into the juncture of Aaron’s neck, breathe in what could have been. He holds Aaron as close as he dares, feels the hot press of Aaron’s hands across his back, thinks I’m sorry, I wish as hard as he can, and prays that Aaron can hear him.

:::

Robert has his coffee at home the next morning, nursing his hangover on the comfort of his own settee.

“It went that badly then?” Seb asks, hovering.

“It was fine,” Robert tells him.

Seb pulls a face. “Just fine? It was your first date.”

Robert feels prickly and tender about it all, still smarting from the look Aaron gave him when they went back to their drinks. There’s a good chance that Robert will never get to be that close to him again and he isn’t sure the sense memory will be good enough to keep him going.

“It wasn’t a date,” is what he says to Seb, because he might be pretty switched on for sixteen but he doesn’t need to hear all that.

Seb huffs, face screwing up again. “I don’t get you. You have the chance at something really good here, with like, the perfect guy, and you can’t be bothered? What happens when I go to uni? Are you just going to rattle around here all on your own until you die?”

Robert’s mouth drops open and it takes every ounce of not his dadhe’s got in him not to bite back. “Go to your room.”

“What? You can’t-”

“Go to your room,” Robert repeats, voice low and deadly. “And don’t you ever talk to me like that again.”

Seb’s eyes go watery, like they always do when he gets told off, and he slinks upstairs with his tail between his legs.

His door slamming makes Robert flinch, even though he was bracing for it.

:::

It’s mid afternoon before Seb shows his face again.

Robert takes one look at him and drags him in for a hug. He’s been feeling like an arsehole for about twelve hours total now, he deserves a hug, and Seb owes him.

Seb puts up with it for a couple of minutes, and then fights his way free. “Are you ready to talk about it yet?”

Robert shrugs, goes back to his pile of blankets, still feeling sulky. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“You’ve been crying.”

“I have not,” so he watched this week’s DIY SOS, sue him.

Seb sighs deeply, put upon. “Dad, you know that I love you, even though you’re an actual idiot, right?”

Robert gives him a look. “Yes.”

“So I mean this in the nicest possible way, alright? Please get your head out your arse.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re in love with Aaron.”

“I think that might be an exaggeration,” Robert says. It’s not, it’s totally not. He keeps thinking about Aaron’s face, so close to his, sparkling in disco colours and watching him like Robert was the only person in the room. It’s making him feel like someone’s scooped his heart out with a melon baller.

“And Aaron’s in love with you.”

“We don’t know that.”

Seb throws his hands up. “Oh for God’s sake. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Robert’s too stunned to tell him off for swearing. “I don’t want to mess everything up,” he says, sort of meekly, he has to admit.

“Who cares if you do?” Seb asks, face crumpled up and baffled, with all the bravery of someone who has never had their heart broken.

Robert braces his arms across his knees. “Aaron’s very important to you,” he says. “And to me. He’s one of our best friends, and he’s a really big part of this village. If I do something to ruin that, it just…it wouldn’t be good.”

“So that means you don’t get to be happy? Either of you? Just in case? That’s stupid.”

Robert huffs a laugh, can’t not. “Being a grown up’s a bit like that.”

Seb comes to sit beside him, elbow digging in to Robert’s arm like always. “Well it shouldn’t be.”

“When your mum gave you to me-”

“She made you promise to take care of me, I know,” Seb looks up at him. “But you have, you do. I’m not a little kid any more, dad, look at me. This isn’t about protecting me, this is about you being too scared to go after what you want. So what if it goes wrong? Aaron’s not an arsehole, he wouldn’t stop being friends with us over something like that. Isn’t he worth the risk?”

Robert would never tell Seb this, but he fucking hates it when the kid’s right.

:::

He manages to avoid Aaron for a couple more days, before his need for decent coffee gets the better of him and he has no choice but to stop stewing on it.

Aaron’s closing up, because Robert’s a wuss and has dragged this out for as long as he possibly can.

“We’re closed,” Aaron says, he doesn’t look up from where he’s upending chairs on to tables.

“I’ll have whatever’s left in the pot,” Robert says. “I’m not fussy.”

He watches Aaron’s shoulders still. “I think we both know that’s a lie,” he says, but he goes and makes Robert a proper drink anyway, because he’s Aaron.

Robert sits in his usual seat and drinks it. “So how have you been?” he asks. “I haven’t seen you for a couple of days.”

God, he sounds like a total wanker, no wonder Aaron’s looking at him like that.

“Are we really doing this?” Aaron asks.

“Doing what?”

Aaron gapes at him for a minute, then shakes his head and turns around to start wiping down the coffee machine. He doesn’t say anything else but Robert can feel the frustration vibrating off him, thick enough to shake the air between them.

He watches the shift in Aaron’s shoulders, thinks about the strength of them under Robert’s hands in the middle of a crowd. Thinks about everything else, about how it was Aaron who drove Seb to the hospital when he broke his wrist last year and Robert was stuck in traffic an hour away, thinks about the way he scowls at every tourist who comes in this place, and how they all leave loving him anyway. He thinks about all the stupid, pointless flings he’s had, men and women that have never stuck and never meant a thing, thinks about the couple of boyfriends Aaron has hung on to for a while, and how it had seemed like a weight had lifted every time he was single again. He thinks about how much worse his life would be, without Aaron in it. About how he’s been falling for him for years, and how he didn’t even notice it creeping up on him until it closed over his head.

He thinks about Seb, and the nice little life Robert has managed to build for them, from ashes of everything else. The life that wouldn’t exist if Robert hadn’t been brave enough to take it.

He did not work this hard, for all these years, to live half a life.

He follows Aaron behind the counter, gets a hand on his shoulder to turn him around.

“What are you doing? You can’t be back-”

Robert takes Aaron’s face between his hands, drags him in until their foreheads touch. Aaron stills in his hold, eyes fluttering shut when his brain catches up to what’s going on.

Robert gives himself a minute, to take it in, making a memory because he has a feeling he’s going to want to remember this. “You talk too much,” he murmurs, nonsensically, before he tips their mouths together.

There’s an almost overwhelming feeling of finally, and then Aaron’s coming back to life in his arms, fingers creepy crawling up over Robert’s shoulders and into his hair. Robert gathers him close, makes fists in the butter soft flannel of his shirt to keep him where Robert wants him.

He tries to keep the kiss soft, as romantic as it had seemed in his head, but then Aaron’s mouth is opening under his and his tongue is in Robert’s mouth, and suddenly he’s half hard in his jeans, trying not to ride Aaron’s thigh. He gives up trying to control it and just kisses back, keeps kissing for as long as Aaron will let him, until his mouth feels sloppy with it and his chin is burning from the rough of Aaron’s beard.

They’re both breathless when they finally part, and Aaron looks about as shell shocked as Robert feels; like the ground has shifted under him, like he can’t believe they haven’t been doing that the whole time.

Aaron’s hands slide down Robert’s chest. “What are you doing?” he asks, and he sounds suspicious enough that Robert laughs.

He gathers his courage into a ball. He’s a grown man, if Aaron worked up the nerve to ask him out, Robert can do this.

He keeps hold of Aaron though, so he doesn’t get any ideas about moving away. “So, I had a word with Seb, and it turns out I’ve been a bit of an idiot.”

Aaron gives him a look like, you don’t say, but he doesn’t say anything so Robert keeps going. “It also turns out that I’m sort of massively in love with you, so.”

It’s quite cute, the way Aaron’s mouth drops open and just sort of… stays that way. “You what?”

Robert looks him right in the eye. “I love you. And I have it on pretty good authority that you feel the same way?”

He doesn’t mean to make it a question but it happens anyway. Aaron’s frowning, sort of kneading at Robert’s chest with his fingertips like a kitten, but he’s nodding.

“Yeah?” Robert prods.

Aaron rolls his eyes. “Obviously, yeah. I though you weren’t interested. After wedding, when you – I thought you weren’t-”

Robert cuts him off. “I’m interested. I’m…more than interested.”

“So why did you…”

“I was scared,” Robert admits, grudgingly. “I think I’ve been trying to tell myself I was looking out for Seb, but that’s not it. I’ve never felt like this before, I’m bloody terrified.”

Aaron’s nodding. “Same here.”

“Seb reckons you’re worth the risk.”

“That does sound like him,” Aaron says. “Also he’s right.”

Robert strokes his hands up Aaron’s back, feels the push and pull of them breathing together. “So, I’m in. If you’ll have me.”

Aaron’s eyes are the bluest thing Robert has ever seen. “I’ll have you,” Aaron says, voice a murmur, and it’s him who leans up this time, kisses Robert until his head’s spinning. Until it feels like this could actually be his life.

Aaron fits against him like he was made to be there, and Robert lets himself imagine, for the first time, a world in which he doesn’t fuck this up.

#iwantmessedup #robron #robron secret valentine #robronsecretvalentine #robron fanfiction #fanfiction #seb white

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notbecauseofvictories · 7 years

Note

Rey/Finn/Poe, road trip au.

this was a mistake, poe thinks, with rey’s long legs thrown across his lap. he’s following the line of her calves with his palms and she’s got her head half out the window, the wind playing with loose strands of her hair. (her skin is warm, prickly where she hasn’t shaved her legs in a few weeks, and even with the seatbelt digging into his chest poe is afraid his heart is going to crack his ribs open.)

she wrinkles her nose and says something in the direction of the driver’s seat; probably something about finn’s driving, which—poe just taught him brakes from gas (we couldn’t run away if we didn’t know how to run, finn had explained with a shrug) and he tends to drive like he’s someone’s 80 year old grandmother.

but finn only laughs, the sun glinting off his shades, his teeth. he has his arm draped out the window, and poe can see the way his muscles shift in his shoulders every time he moves. he says something too, which would probably be funny if poe could hear either of them over the radio, the blood pounding in his ears. (this was a mistake.)

the sun is hot, but they have all the windows open and the wind is cool. poe lets his head fall back against the seat and shuts his eyes. under his hand, the muscles of rey’s calf twitch, and then lay still.

some free advice: when your young, extremely attractive coworkers who only have eyes for one another (in blissful ignorance of the fact that you may be in love with them, whatever) invite you on a cross-country road trip to their surrogate father’s funeral—

say no.

“hey,” finn says. they’re sitting at the rest stop’s only picnic table, trying not to touch the unfortunately sticky patches. poe keeps accidentally kicking the heavy chain that keeps it anchored to the ground.

“yeah?” poe says absently.

“thanks for coming, man,” finn says, and he’s doing that thing again, the sincere thing, where his eyes are wide and shining, and he’s so serious and earnest. people keep saying finn must have learned it from poe, but poe can’t remember the last time he was like that about anything. (eighteen, maybe, when he found out the community college had a library, and spent the summer devouring every book in their measly political philosophy section.

not many airmen could quote rawls, but given where it’d taken him, that was probably for the best.)

“don’t mention it,” poe says. “I’m here for you. and rey,” he adds, when she appears from the rest stop, and crosses the sad patch of browning grass to sit beside finn at the table.

she makes a face when she plants her elbow in a sticky patch, and it’s funny, it is—poe has seen her happily covered in motor oil and grass, sweat, but she wrinkles her nose, huffs. “what about me?” she asks, scraping at her elbow with a fingernail.

finn raises his eyebrows at poe, and he feels himself go hot. “no, I was just—telling finn that. well, I’m here for you. both of you.”

her expression softens into something almost tender, and poe lamely offers his half-empty water bottle to wash off her elbow.

somehow, this ends up with rey straddling the bench beside him, close enough that he would breathe in her breath, if he could remember how to breathe just now. he gets water on his jeans, and her shirt, and he doesn’t miss the corner of her mouth, twitching at how clumsy he’s suddenly become. “there,” he says, using his thumb to wipe the last of it from the flat of her elbow. “all good.”

“thanks,” rey says, and this close he can see the old scar at her jaw where she wasn’t quick enough to dodge whatever plutt hurled at her head. (he thinks; she’s always oblique when it comes to her past, prickly and waiting to take offense at the first sign of pity.) it’s silvery-faint, but poe can’t look away.

poe walks back to the car two steps behind her. finn’s shoulder brushes his, and they’re both smiling, for no reason.

“move over,” finn mutters, and poe’s still mostly asleep—he grunts when finn elbows into the tacky motel bed beside him, pressing himself flush against poe’s back. he’s warm, it feels nice.

“rey keeps kicking me,” finn says. his breath on the nape of poe’s neck. he’s nosing at the collar of poe’s shirt, and poe goes practically boneless against him (is there a reason he shouldn’t? he can’t remember.)

“’k,” poe mumbles. “g’ sleep n’w.”

“okay,” finn says.

poe wakes up in the morning cold, finn having stolen every blanket on the bed and wrapped them around his waist. but he’s got a hand fisted into the back of poe’s shirt, and poe lays there for a while, feeling the ridge of finn’s knuckles against his back.

they’re eating at some tacky hole-in-the-wall bar google maps recommended when rey says, “han would have loved this place.”

finn freezes with a fry halfway to his mouth, and it’s up to poe to say, casually, “oh, yeah?”

rey is pushing the remains of whatever she had—something with potatoes, poe wasn’t paying attention—around her plate, frowning. “yeah,” she says. “he knew every crappy bar and diner for a hundred miles in every direction. probably knew their owners too. he had this—” she laughs a little, though there isn’t much humor in the sound. “her name was maz, I always thought she was his aunt, when actually she bought weed from him back before it was legalized. but that was han, he was always—everyone was family.”

finn puts down the fry and wipes his fingers on his shirt. lays his hand, palm up, on the plastic surface of the table. rey threads their fingers together, so tightly that poe can see her knuckles go white.

poe escapes, mumbling something about the jukebox, about needing the bathroom, another drink. (it doesn’t actually matter, he just has to put some space between him and this, or he’ll belong to it, he’ll be part of it, and he’s not. he has to remember he’s not. this is rey and finn and rey&finn and their grief and their lives, he doesn’t have a right to any of it.

he can’t believe he’s thinking about kissing them right now.)

it costs him a dollar twenty five to get shania twain on the jukebox, but it’s worth it to hear rey humming along when he gets back to the table. they’re still holding hands, but finn doesn’t move over when poe slides back into the booth. his shoulder is warm, and pressed all along poe’s side, and poe reminds himself to breathe, just breathe.

the next time finn crawls into bed with poe, he doesn’t offer any explanation. (neither does rey, when she joins them.)

honestly. just—say no. when they ask, for your own sanity, say no.

poe makes an extremely undignified noise when senator leia organa, retired four star general and decorated hero of the battle of endor, is standing outside the funeral home. “what,” he says, grabbing hold of finn’s arm and practically shaking him til his fillings rattle.

“han was her husband. ex-husband? I don’t know if they ever actually got divorced,” rey explains, frowning. “she’s overseeing the funeral.”

“what,” poe repeats, even as finn patiently unclips poe’s seatbelt for him and all but pushes him out of the car. poe stumbles inelegantly to his feet, and holy shit leia organa is looking at him.

“this is our friend,” rey says, after she and senator leia organa exchange a long, wordless embrace. (finn just smiles, blinking hard when organa rests a hand on his shoulder. “his name is poe.”

“dameron,” poe says dazedly, reaching out and shaking senator leia organa’s hand by instinct.

“ah,” the senator says. “the hotshot ex-pilot himself. I’ve heard so much about you.”

poe nods and says something gracious, probably, and pretends like he doesn’t want to turn to finn and demand to know what they’ve been telling senator leia organa about him.

the meeting with the funeral director is solemn, gentle; poe mostly busies himself making sure everyone always has enough coffee in their cup, a couple cookies within reach. the senator is very cool and sure and calm, dry-eyed, even if she does hold rey’s hand so tightly that rey has to switch as they start talking about caskets.

(”closed casket,” the senator says, very firmly. “I don’t—I don’t want anyone to remember him like this.”)

finn spends the whole meeting silent, his lips pressed together in a thin line, hands fisted to keep them from shaking. “hey,” poe says, nudging him with his shoulder. “c’mon, let’s go for a walk.”

finn looks a little surprised—his eyes cut to rey, who doesn’t look away from the funeral director’s face, but she does nod, just slightly. so they go, and wander around the edge of the parking lot, admire the sad stand of trees and the worn out sign. poe makes a comment about how crappy rey’s beat up ford falcon looks beside senator organa’s gleaming state car—

“it was his,” finn says, very quietly, and poe’s voice dies in his throat. “he loved that stupid car, and her. and he used to—he used to call me ‘big deal’, because the first time we met I was trying to impress rey, and made out like I was such a big deal.”

finn isn’t looking at the cars, he isn’t looking at anything; just staring sightlessly into the air, and trembling.

poe doesn’t think, just steps forward and catches him before he hits the ground.

they’re still there, kneeling in the damp grass, when the senator and rey emerge from the funeral home. finn’s mostly stopped crying (he’s shuddering, gulping at the air and clinging to poe like he’s the only solid thing left in the world) but poe’s still cradling him against his chest, rubbing his back and murmuring nonsense, soothing things.

poe should be embarrassed, he realizes too late. about his closeness and his presumption and—the fact he isn’t embarrassed. but no one else seems to be, and when rey bends down and presses a kiss to poe’s head it feels good, it feels right.

“dinner, I think,” the senator says, and poe, finn, and rey all pile back into the falcon silently. they follow her car out of the parking lot, and down the road, and away.

poe doesn’t remember much of the wake, except that rey cried, and poe cried because he loved her and he was sorry, and finn got spectacularly drunk and cried too, holding onto poe’s arm and saying, “thank you for coming. thank you. you came, I’m so glad.”

they fall asleep in a pile on the sofa, poe knows, because that’s where he woke up, rey’s knee digging into his gut and finn heavy on his knees. it takes careful maneuvering and a good few minutes to extract himself, and even then he has to limp to the bathroom—he’s not sure how both of his feet fell asleep, but they did.

he’s just wiping his hands on his pants when he realizes there’s a light on in the kitchen.

“senator?” he asks, stepping into the space. leia organa is sitting at the table with a fork sticking out of what looks like a pan of kugel. it’s one of the dozen baking dishes spread across the table, all neatly covered in foil or saran wrap. “I didn’t think anyone else was awake.”

“I lost my mother and father when I was nineteen,” she says, and his breath catches. “my unit was in imperial-held territory at the time and I didn’t—I couldn’t attend their funeral, didn’t even have time to mourn them. I’m trying to decide if the food makes it better.”

poe is silent, watching her pick at the noodles. “I can’t eat chuchitos anymore. when mama—” he chokes on the word, even so many years later, “everyone brought chuchitos, because they knew they were my favorite. I had chuchitos every meal for weeks, I got sick off them. so I can’t eat them anymore. even the smell…”

she looks up at him, and smiles, and—poe wonders suddenly if she has any children of her own; not that rey and finn don’t count, but that is a mother’s smile, and he feels steadied, having seen it.

“get some sleep, dameron,” she says, and he leaves her there, in the lighted kitchen, all alone.

they bury han solo on a cool saturday morning, finn gritting his teeth against a hangover and rey ashen, dry-eyed. poe feels like he’s hovering too much, but at some point rey grabs his arm and buries her face in his suit jacket, and finn has his arm wrapped around rey’s waist so that poe can feel finn’s watch digging into his side, and it’s like equilibrium, suddenly. balance.

“are you coming?” finn asks after, and the senator shakes her head.

“no, it’s all right,” she says, and her eyes are wet. “I’m going to stay, have one last argument with him. curse the bastard out for dying—it wouldn’t be right, otherwise.”

they pick their way back over the grass, occasionally stopping to read headstones, without remark. (rey is holding his hand, and finn’s, and poe can’t believe how warm he feels, is.) when they make it back to where they parked, there’s an absurdly tall man with long hair, leaning against the senator’s car. “you’ll get her home?” rey asks, and the man says something that sounds affirmative, though poe can’t interpret what through the haze of accent. rey just looks relieved. “thank you.”

rey kicks off her shoes in the backseat of the falcon and curls into finn’s side, animal-like. he murmurs something, and she laughs, or whatever passes for it—it’s like watching a movie with no sound. poe can’t help glancing at them in the rearview the whole ride back to the senator’s house, but they don’t say anything else, just cling to one another.

the house feels emptier, when they get back.

“I’m going to—take a nap,” poe says, because he can’t think of anything else to do right now that isn’t drinking or smoking, and this really isn’t the time.

“okay,” rey says, and she and finn trail poe upstairs. finn drapes his suit jacket on the chair beside poe’s bed, and rey shimmies out of her pantyhose and before poe can really figure out what’s happening, he’s in bed with both of them, rey curling into his back and finn’s shoulder against his chest.

poe is still desperately trying to make sense of this when finn pokes his thigh. “breathe,” finn says, already sounding sleepy and warm, and fuck that earnest thing, poe doesn’t trust that one bit, it’s clearly a trap to lull him into a false sense of security and affection.

“it’s okay, you can relax,” finn adds after a long minute. “we’re not going anywhere.”

“oh,” poe says, because what else is he supposed to say. “okay then.”

at some point, lying stiff as a board between two warm and sleeping bodies, both tucked against your own, is exhausting. poe sleeps.

when he wakes up, the sun is lower, slanting through the windows and painting the room a haze of gold. it takes him a minute to realize that rey is propped up on one elbow, tracing the curve of his brow with a fingertip.

she looks like she’s been crying.

“hey,” poe whispers. “good morning.”

“not really,” she says, but she’s smiling now. “but maybe tomorrow. we’ll see.”

#ME: ''send me short prompts!'' ALSO ME: [immediately bangs out 1.5k of modern au which is a genre I normally hate]#writing is genuinely the worst hobby #the warry stars #star wars #Anonymous #asked and answered #long post for ts #tw funeral #tw death #this is a thing I made

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