#And my cousin goes “what was that why did he throw his coat away”
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crushin’ on you. |s.s|
(a/n) omg. im kinda nervous here. i wanted to try my luck at writing for solo sikoa. aye it’s wild asl when the whole damn family fine asl. im also cooking up something for jey usoooo :))). this is also inspired by @msbigredmachine ‘I still heart you’ oneshot featuring solo and nadine. complete credit to you <3. enjoy.
“it’s cool, not tryin’ to put the rush on you. i had to let you know that i got a crush on you…”
warnings: none.
parings: fluff!solo sikoa x black!reader
tagged: @cyberdejos2
“Shit!” You let out a painful groan as you almost twisted your ankle while wearing your 6 inch heels.
“You’re so damn childish.” Your best friend, Leilani, mumbled with a roll of her eyes trailing behind you as you rushed towards catering, “You a little too old for this shit, no?”
“Instead of running your motormouth, you need to be making sure he’s not near me.” You pant, nearly out of breath from your speed walking.
“Bitch, we just speedwalked all the way to the other side of the damn building away from him! He can’t fucking teleport, dammit.” Leilani responds pulling out a chair to sit down lowering her head to the table, “Why won’t you jus—“
“You think he saw me? What if he thinks I’m crazy? All he did was wave. Fuck man. Fuck!” You whine as you throw your head into your hands in embarrassment
“I hope the motherfucker does, then you can stop running away like a 6 year old child.”
“Your mother.” You mumbled out
Currently, you found yourself in a sticky situation. You were always told before you got into this business, “Don’t fall in love with your coworkers.” And here you were. Head over heels for a certain younger Samoan. Solo was practically your husband in your head at this point. You've had a crush on him since meeting him in developmental. With a handful of conversations, hanging out with your friend group, and even going out to eat, how could you not develop even the slightest of feelings for him?
While many saw him as the silent enforcer to his older cousin, Roman, he often showed you a different side when you were alone with him. When you allowed yourself to be. You could barely contain yourself around him. If it’s from falling over the damn air, to stuttering over your words, or saying the most random shit ever…you were crushin’ on him. and you had it bad.
Safe to say, you spent your nights in your hotel room with only a box of your favorite 10 piece hot wing combo, lurking on his socials, and his friends and family’s socials from a separate account than your company one.
You found it easier to just avoid him all together, to keep your little schoolgirl feelings safe. You’ve had way too many experiences of admitting your feelings for others and it went completely left. Rejection is a part of life, but that doesn’t mean it doesn't hurt. And a man like him? coming from one of the biggest wrestling families? You were nowhere near comparable. Deciding to save yourself from the embarrassment, you’d admire the Samoan from a distance…all while creating it.
Leilani and you were walking down a hall when you spotted him talking to his brother. He through a wave in your direction with a dazzling smile, expecting you to return it. Yeah, you didn’t. Quite the opposite, in fact.
You pretend as if you didn’t see him. And spun on your heel and speed walked down the opposite direction you were intending.
Even though Solo clearly saw you, see him, see you, see him.
“Stupid, you do know you’re 31 years old, right? Not 13. Just tell him you like him. What’s the worst he can do?” Leilani explains with a agitated expression coating her face
“He could say, ‘Hey, I’m not interested.’ and there goes my fuckin
dignity. Right down the drain.” You answer
“Then onto the next, girl! He’s not the only guy you’re ever going to like. He’s not the only guy who’ll rejec—“
“Reject me. I know. Save the speech, Joel Olsten. I don’t need the embarrassment that comes from that. We work together, Lei. Do you understand how awkward that would be?” You screech out slamming your hands in the table
“You knew it was going to be awkward when you started liking him. You and him have gone out before. You’re literally friends.”
“We’re friends through friends, Lei. It’s different. We’ve never gone out alone. It’s always been with other people. But he’s not the ‘enforcer’ around me. He’s just Joseph.” You sighed, beginning to feel sorry for yourself.
Leilani was right. You were a grown woman. He’s not the only guy in the world. But somehow, in front of other people, he always had a way of doing so.
One time you went out bowling with your friends a few months back, and he opened the door for you, placing his hand on your lower back, letting you enter the building before him. That entire night, he paid more than enough attention to you. Asking you about your life outside of wrestling, laughing at your jokes, and poking fun at your lack of ability to bowl. He even ordered your food for you. He ended that night by giving you a small hug.
You could still smell his cologne if you closed your eyes tightly enough.
But what if you were reading into this all wrong? He could’ve done that as a way to show he was sincerely interested in being your friend.
Late at night you always dreamed, he was crushin’ just as hard on you as you were to him. But he’s a grown man too. He would’ve said something by now if he was genuinely interested. Right?
Right?
“You need to put on your granny panties and go up to him and ask him to hang out. Bitch, you’re old. Get your ass up. Oop, just in time.” Lei suddenly smirks, her eyes moving past your head
You furrowed your eyebrows and turned in your chair to see Solo entering the catering area, his face in his phone. You admittedly felt yourself begin to shake and start to sweat. Your chest getting heavy.
“Girl, get the fuck up. You know what, actually. Solo!” Lei suddenly shouts getting his attention
“What the fuck are you doing?” You snap into her direction
“I’m deflowering your pussy ass. Either take the chance, or shut up! Hey, Solo!”
You turned around to see him making his way to your table with a smile on his face. ‘I’m going to bitch slap her so hard’ you thought in your head, glaring at Leilani.
“Wassup y’all?” Solo says as he sits in a metal chair next to you
“Hey! We’re just talking about this one’s match tonight. I was just saying we need new gear. Here, let me sho—Dammit. My phone died. I’m gonna go get my iPad; I'll be back in a jiffy.”
Your eyes nearly popped from your skull at Leilani’s words, “I’ll be back, you two. Don’t go anywhere, yeah?” She snickers at the inside joke before standing up and walking off
You bit down on your tongue as you watched her saunter off, down the hallway of the arena. opposite of her locker room, where her iPad would be.
little lying ass bitch.
“So y’all thinking about new gear? Whatchall’ thinking about?” Solo asks, moving his arm to lay against the back of your chair.
Fuck me now, “Um…y-yeah. We are. Y’know? We needa stay up to par as tag team champions.” You stutter, silently curing yourself in your head.
“Hell yea! Yall have been killing it lately out there. I remember in developmental, you’d always say how one day you were going to dominate the women's tag team division. If only little you could see yourself right now. Right?” He grins showing his teeth
He remembered that? That was a while ago.
“Yeah. She’d probably be shitting herself.” Fuck.
He chuckles to himself before facing you again, “You guys ready for backlash? I see Natalya is gearing up. Ion know. You might got some serious competition there, baby girl.”
Was that a pet name? Why’d he call you that? Where did he get that? How many other girls does he call that?
“W-w-well she better bring her ass then to be geared the fuck down!” You respond, slightly cursing yourself.
Solo laughs at your bashfulness and you grab a mini water bottle from the center of the table. You quickly opened it and attempted to drown it in its entirety before you began coughing.
Who swallows water the wrong way? Seriously?
“Yo! Yo! You good?” Solo perches upwards with a concern look on his face actively patting your back
Does it look like i’m fucking good? What do you think?
“Y-yeah!” You cough out still hacking your lungs
“Lemme getchu som—Hey, wait a minute.“ Solo's words were cut off as you waved your hand off and stood up to leave. Still coughing, you walked toward the exit with a frown on your face.
Once again, you fucked it up and embarrassed yourself. This time by choking on your water.
“Hey, wait. It’s oka—“ Solo's words were cut off once again as you leaned too close to the door, yanking it open resulting in hitting your head with it.
Before anyone else could see your multiple fuckups, you quickly exited the catering area. You walked as fast as you could to your locker room, clutching your head. You felt the tears in your eyes begin to form at your embarrassment. You felt sorry for yourself. A 31 year old grown ass woman, couldn’t admit to a dude that you were feeling him. The shit was pitiful to say the least.
You clutched your jacket closer to your body as you waited for your Uber Eats delivery to arrive. After a long night, you made the ‘expected’ decision to just head back to the hotel for the night. Avoiding Solo for the duration of the show. Wherever you spotted him, you made sure you weren’t. or at least well hidden. You lowered your gaze down to your phone, eyeing the unread message from Leilani.
Lei: Soooooo. You 2 lovebirds bond?
You didn’t have it in your heart to tell her the truth. Once again, you messed up. If he didn’t think you were weird before, he certainly does now.
Shaming yourself for wearing shorts, while it was chilly outside, you saw the car of your Uber Eats driver pull up. You stayed near the hotel entrance and prepared to greet him to receive your order. As the man gets out with a bag, from the corner of your eye, you couldn’t help but notice Solo beginning to walk towards you, his suitcase in tow. You quickly retrieved your bag, and headed back inside.
Not again. No, never again.
Just as you pressed the elevator button, you heard the creaking of wheels.
“Wassup?” He greets with a smile
“Hey.” You smile back up at the man
Solo's face gains a confused look. You were being short with him. while he knew you were shy. You at least attempted more of a conversation with him.
As the elevator opened, you both entered. You kept your head hung low, as you both waited to reach the floor. When the doors opened, you stepped out and quickly walked towards your room door, accepting your defeat.
“Hey, wait a second.” Solo starts, following behind you.
You were prepared to keep the conversation short and simple. Do not allow yourself to be swept away into another series of painful and embarrassing events.
“Why are you always so…different? Around me. I see you with everyone else. Leilani. The other ladies and guys. You’re yourself. But when it comes to me? You’re different. Wassup? Did I do something?”
You let out a breath as you stared up at the man. You had one shot. And here it was, right here. He was right. You weren’t normally the shy type. But dammit, you could barely form a sentence near him. Leilani was right. There were more fish in the sea. Even if this was the fish you wanted.
“Solo listen. I…I have feelings for you. Bad. I try to save my own feelings by pushing them to the side, but instead I end up looking like a fucking dumbass, every-single-time. I know what you’re going to say. And it’s cool. I’m not tryna put the rush on you. So just sav—“
You were ready to continue your ramble. Ready to explain and accept your rejection. You felt yourself being pressed against the door of your hotel room as Solo's lips combined with yours.
You dropped your bag of food onto the ground, and your arms slid around his neck. You felt yourself moan into his mouth as his tongue snaked into yours, welcoming. His arms slid around your waist, pressing your body against his. As you both tasted each other and fought for dominance, you thought back to what Leilani said. Ole ass was right.
You pulled away from Solo, keeping your arms locked around his neck. “And what if I said I was feeling you too? Then what?” He responded
“I’d be speechless.”
“Good. Save yourself from saying something crazy again.” He chuckles before diving in again for another taste of your lips against his.
#solo sikoa headcannon#solo sikoa headcanon#solo sikoa x reader#solo sikoa#solo sikoa smut#solo sikoa headcannons#solo sikoa headcanons#solo sikoa fic#solo sikoa fanfic#solo sikoa fanfiction#solo sikoa oneshot#solo sikoa imagine#solo sikoa imagines#wwe#wwe nxt#bloodline smut#bloodline imagines#bloodline x reader#bloodline imagine#bloodline headcannon#bloodline headcanons#bloodline headcannons#bloodline headcanon#bloodline fanfic#roman empire#roman reigns#roman reigns fanfiction#roman reigns head cannon#roman reigns imagine#roman reigns one shot
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Sarcasm
A/N: this is called ‘how many Stiles Stilinski quotes can I fit in one fic?’ Turns out quite a few
Y/N sighed as the phone rang for the fifth time that day.
“Tom!” She yelled, hoping he would answer it so that she didn’t have to get up. “Tommy !”
“I’m busy!” He yelled back.
Y/N groaned, unfolding herself from underneath the blanket and got up for the sofa. She all but stomped over to the phone, making sure her brother was aware of how annoyed she was at having to move.
“Hello?” She said as she picked up the phone.
“Oh, thank god it’s you.”
Y/N raised her eyebrows. “Finn? What do you want?”
“I need your help,” Finn replied, panting slightly.
“Why are you out of breath?” She asked, frowning.
“Because I’ve just run a marathon,” Finn said, sarcasm dripping off every word. “I’ve just been chased down the street by some random Italians!”
Y/N turned her back to the betting shop. “What?”
“You heard me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, not what I meant. Why do you need me?”
“Well, I don’t really know what to do.”
Y/N groaned. “Alright, fine. Where are you?”
“Phone box near the station.”
“I’ll be ten minutes,” she muttered, already regretting answering the phone. She put it back on the receiver and grabbed her coat. “I’m going out!”
“Don’t do anything stupid!” Arthur yelled at her as she left.
Y/N rolled her eyes. “No promises,” she muttered, shutting the door behind her.
Finn hadn’t moved from the phone box.
Y/N sighed at her brother as he all but burst from inside and ran towards her. “What did you do?”
Finn hesitated, opening his mouth and closing it several times before answering. “It’ll be easier to show you.”
He grabbed her hand and began dragging her down the road. Y/N sighed but allowed her brother to keep dragging her. They walked past rows of house, turned down several suspicious looking alleyways and definitely walked in a circle several times.
“Finn, love, where are you taking me?” Y/N asked as they walked past the butchers for the sixth time.
“Here,” Finn said, pulling her in front of him and pushing Y/N into the entrance of a dead-end alley.
Y/N and stumbled to a halt and stared at the body of a rather large Italian at the end of the alley. “Finn, what did you do?”
“It was self-defence!” Finn exclaimed loudly.
“Alright, alright, shut up,” Y/N said, slowly walking forward towards the body.
“I’ve already called the police.”
Y/N turned to look at her brother, eyebrow raised. “You called the police before you called me?”
Finn frowned. “I’m supposed to call you when I find a dead body?”
“YES!” Y/N said loudly, throwing her hands up. “Bloody hell, Finn, do you have any brain cells or do I have all of them?” Y/N sighed. “Alright, if you’ve already called the police then we need to leave.”
“They didn’t seem overly concerned,” Finn replied. “Maybe we should phone them again.”
“No,” Y/N said, shaking her head.
“No, what do you mean no?”
“I mean no, you want to hear it in Spanish: Noh,” Y/N replied, staring at her brother. “I swear to god this family has two brain cells and that Polly and I are the only ones who ever have them.”
Y/N grabbed her brother’s arm and dragged him away from the alley.
“What about the body?” Finn asked, pointing at it as he was led away.
Y/N shrugged. “They’ll sort it, come on,” she said, pulling him in front of her and pushing him.
“But, shouldn’t we tell someone?” Finn asked, genuinely bewildered.
“Yes, let’s tell the entirety of Small Heath that Finn Shelby murdered an Italian with his brother’s gun.”
Finn stopped and glared at her. “The sarcasm is not appreciated, Y/N.”
“I’m 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bone, sarcasm is my only defence,” Y/N shot back. “Not to mention I just saved your ass.”
“Where are we going?” Finn asked as Y/N pushed him into walking again.
“A dead body?” John asked, staring at them, eyebrows raised.
“No, a body water,” Y/N snapped. “Yes, a dead body!”
John sighed. “Alright, what do you want me to do about it?”
“Well, it was your gun Finn murdered him with.”
“It was self-defence.”
“Still murder, Finn,” Y/N replied. “John, I just need you to move the body and burn it and no one will be any the wiser.”
John shook his head in despair. “Fucking hell, fine, where is it?”
“Why have I just had a phone call from Moss about a dead Italian near the butchers?”
Y/N winced at Tommy’s yell as he marched into the room.
“Ah, fuck,” John muttered. He stood up and walked into the betting shop flanked by Y/N and Finn.
“What Italian?” Arthur asked, frowning.
“No idea, Moss got a phone call about a dead body and found it in an alley,” Tommy replied, leaning on the back of a chair and looking at the room. “I’m only going to ask this once, did anyone here murder him?”
“Not me,” Arthur said, shaking his head.
Michael shook his head as well. “Weren’t me either, Tom.”
Tommy turned to look at John. “John?”
“I’ve been here all afternoon, Tommy,” John replied. “Finn and Y/N have been upstairs.”
“Yup, I’ve been reading,” Y/N said, following John’s train of thought.
“I’ve been sewing my cap,” Finn added, nodding.
Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Ahuh, then why did Moss say it sounded like Finn on the other end of the phone?”
Y/N sighed. “Fuck’s sake, Finn.”
“What was I meant to do!” Finn yelled.
“So, you lied to me?” Tommy asked, frowning.
Y/N shrugged. “That depends how you define lying, Tom.”
“Well, I define it as not telling the truth,” Tommy replied, walking closer to them. “How do you define it?”
Y/N paused, thinking. “Reclining your body in a… horizontal position,” she said, mimicking horizontal with her hands.
“Get the fuck out of here,” Tommy ordered.
Y/N nodded. “Absolutely.”
“What exactly were you two going to do about this problem?” Tommy asked, staring at them both.
“Well, personally, I’m a huge fan of ignoring the problem until, eventually, it goes away,” Y/N replied, standing in the doorway.
“Y/N,” Tommy said, turning to face her. “What did I say?”
“Well you told me to leave but then started talking to me so I just… sort of… hovered,” Y/N replied, swinging her arms. “Besides, it’s not like the Italian was a good person or anything, probably had Finn shooting him in the head coming.”
Michael turned to stare at his cousin. “You’re a horrible person.”
Y/N sighed, nodding. “I know, it keeps me awake at night.”
“I didn’t mean to kill him!” Finn suddenly yelled. “It was self-defence.”
“What the fuck is happening in here?” Polly asked walking in and glaring at them all.
“Finn killed an Italian, Tommy’s pissed off at us – nothing new there - and apparently I’m a horrible person,” Y/N replied.
“Not to mention you won’t answer any questions,” Michael added, twirling his pen between his fingers.
Y/N clicked her fingers and pointed at him. “That too.”
Polly sighed. “I’ve been gone three hours.”
“What happens if they find out I killed him?” Finn asked.
“Who?” Y/N turned to look at him, frowning.
“The mafia!” Finn exclaimed. “I killed one of their own, they’re going to hunt me down and kill me,” Finn muttered, spiralling. “Oh god.”
“Alright, sit down,” Arthur said, shoving Finn into a chair and handing him a glass of whiskey. “I’m not gonna let you die, alright.”
Y/ N groaned. “God, can’t you at least think about it?” She asked, looking at Arthur lovingly. “For me?”
“I refer to my earlier statement,” Michael muttered.
“Oh, cry me a river, Michael,” Y/N snapped.
“Oi!” Tommy yelled. “We’re getting off topic. Y/N, since we all know you are a fucking terrible influence on Finn, you’re coming with me to dispose of the body.”
“Oh, no, thank you, it’s rather gory, disposing,” Y/N replied, shaking her head. “I might faint.”
Tommy raised his eyebrows, staring at her incredulously. “You faint at the sight of blood?”
“No, but I might at the sight of a chopped off arm!” She exclaimed.
“Y/N, stay here and keep quiet for once,” Arthur muttered, shaking his head as John laughed.
“If I could give you a grade on how profoundly you disturb me,” Michael said, looking at Y/N, “You’d be an A+ student.”
Y/N smiled gratefully at her cousin. “Aw, thanks Michael.”
John laughed again as Polly shook her head, slightly amused. Tommy groaned, hanging his head in despair.
“Right, Arthur and I will deal with Moss,” Tommy said, rubbing his face. “Y/N, stay here and try not cause any more chaos.”
“I wasn’t even the one to shoot him, Tommy!” Y/N exclaimed. “What the fuck?!”
“Yeah, alright,” Tommy said, waving a hand at her. “Stay here and let Michael teach you something useful, ok?”
“Yeah sure, we’ll do the alphabet, shall we Michael? Start with F end with U,” Y/N snapped, glaring at her brother.
Tommy glared back at his sister. “You’ll be lucky if I don’t end up shooting you at this rate.”
Arthur stepped forward, grabbing his sister by the shoulder. “Think you can answer some questions without the usual level of sarcasm?”
“If you ask them without the usual level of stupid, Arthur.”
Polly chuckled quietly. “Y/N,” she said warningly, her eyes betraying her amusement at her niece.
“So, you’re asking me to tell you what I wouldn’t not tell you,” Y/N asked, looking at her older brothers.
Arthur blinked. “First of, I have no fucking clue what you just said.”
“Secondly,” Tommy said, cutting in, “how about you just let us help you?”
“Well, it wasn’t me who killed him.”
“Y/N.”
“Well, I don’t know how to help you help me tell you something that would help if I don’t know it,” Y/N replied.
Tommy groaned. “Are you doing this on purpose?”
Y/N smirked, crossing her arms. “Possibly.”
#peaky blinders#peaky blinder fanfic#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinders fanfic#shelby sis#Shelby sister#shelby!sis#sister!reader
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Part II Wed By Candlelight (The Portrait of the Secret Bride)
Supercorp The Corpse Bride AU
Kara’s dreams that night are turbulent. She could attribute it to the fact that she’d had to endure dinner with Mon-El’s mother, but it’s far worse than any nightmare even Rhea could induce.
She dreams of her lady’s brother, returning home the prodigal son. But she knows of the atrocities Lex Luthor is said to have committed, of the wife and child he had left dead in his wake -- and Kara doesn’t want him anywhere near her lady. She can see the war Lena wages between her good judgment and her good heart, can see her vacillating between her love for her brother and her own instincts.
But Kara, who has no such attachment to him, sees how he brings nothing but discord and chaos into their lives. And she’s right.
Over dinner, he announces his plan to restore the Luthor name and fortune -- by promising Lena in marriage to his new business associate, a man named Morgan Edge.
It’s the first time she’s ever seen her lady truly angry. Lena’s fury emanates from her lithe frame in cold waves as she stands from the dinner table, straight-backed and proud, facing Lex with glacial eyes that burn with pent-up rage, before she throws her glass of wine in his face.
The second they’re locked in her room, Lena grasps Kara’s arms with desperate fingers. “We need to leave.”
“Lena--”
“I can’t stay here, Kara. Not like this. Not when he intends to shackle me to a man like Morgan Edge. I met him once, and that was enough. He’s a despicable cockroach of a man. I cannot stay here and marry him, Kara. I will not.”
Kara hears the steel in her lady’s voice, and loves her for it. She opens her arms and Lena melts into her, lips touching her throat, soft words murmured against her skin. “I won’t marry anyone but you.”
Kara huffs a small laugh against Lena’s hair. “Somehow I don’t think the Bishop will approve of that.”
“I don’t care. Hang the Bishop.” Lena smiles when Kara laughs again. She pulls away slightly, just enough for Kara to see the brilliant clarity in her eyes. “And hang the Luthors. Let them rot in this miserable place. We’ll leave them here. You and I can go somewhere we can be together.”
Kara’s heart pounds like a drum, and she takes one of Lena’s hands in hers. “You’d leave your family to be with me?”
“In a heartbeat.”
Joy bubbles up in Kara’s chest, almost dispelling the heaviness that had settled there since hearing of Lex’s plans. “We could go to Kandor. My cousin lives there with his wife, they might have a place for us.”
Lena rests her temple against Kara’s, her lips brushing softly against her hair. “As long as I’m with you.”
Kara sighs, and the two of them stay that way for a long moment. It feels as if they are standing at a precipice, with the threat of Lena’s family surrounding them and the terrifying exhilaration of the unknown before them, freedom just within reach.
“I’ll leave for Kandor at dawn, to make sure Kal can make a place for us.” Kara brings Lena’s hand up to her lips, pressing a kiss to her fingers in lieu of a ring. “I will come back for you, I promise.”
And Kara somehow, somehow, knows that this is the last night she will spend with Lena.
The dream shifts, and Kara finds herself in the dark of night, the wind whipping across her face. The horse she is riding on snorts in exertion as she urges the animal as fast as it can go.
There’s a fierce desperation in the way she grips the reins. She doesn’t know where she’s going, all she knows is that it’s a matter of life and death that she get there in time.
There’s a wound on her side that burns, but she just presses on it and keeps riding. Bruises have bloomed over her knuckles. Blood dripping from her eyebrow and an accompanying wave of dizziness tells her that she also has a head wound, but she grits her teeth and forces herself to stay on her seat. Nothing is more important than getting to her destination.
“Kara, we have to stop.” A man appears in her field of vision, riding alongside her. Something in her recognizes him as Kal, her cousin. “You’re bleeding too much.”
“No!” She protests violently, her voice breaking in the whipping wind “If Lex’s men found us, that means Lex knows that Lena and I were planning to run away. He’s going after her, Kal. We have to get to her first!”
She leans forward, urging her horse faster still.
Only, she never gets to her destination, because the dream shifts again, and this time, instead of a mount, Kara finds herself sitting at a desk, in a small, unfamiliar room.
Beside her, Kal’s son, Jon is sleeping peacefully in his cradle. On the table, at her elbow, is a solitary candle, its flickering flame casting a familiar thin light on Kara’s bowed form.
“Lena.” Her voice is little more than a whispered sob. The candlelight brings back too many bittersweet memories that make Kara’s heart ache and crumble, as if it’s dying a living death inside the cavity of her chest. “Lena…”
Kara swallows back a sob and wipes away the tears that blur her vision. She’s worked with less light before, she reminds herself, as she bends over the small locket, painstakingly recording every detail she can remember. She works ceaselessly and without the need for sleep, as if it were possible to bring her lady back to life with each brush stroke.
She knows -- She knows it’s impossible to bring her back. She knows it’s impossible to capture the warmth of her smile or the soft steel of her voice in a miniature portrait, she knows, but each brush stroke feels like a penance, a way to keep her alive.
When she’s finished, Kara seals it within the necklace. A secret only she knows.
This time, Kara all but forces herself awake.
She scrambles out of bed, nearly waking Mon-El in her haste. The floor is cold under her bare feet, but she doesn’t care. She scurries out of the room and down to the foyer where she’d left her coat.
Her hand plunges into the coat pocket and she triumphantly fishes out the antique necklace her mother had left her.
The exact same necklace in her dream.
Quickly, she retrieves a knife from the kitchen and pries it open as carefully as she can. It’s a painstaking process, trying not to damage a two hundred year old piece of jewelry, but finally, Kara’s efforts pay off.
The necklace opens to reveal the portrait Kara had seen in her dream -- a faithful likeness of Lena Luthor in miniature.
For the first time, it occurs to Kara that this is the only time she’s seen Lena outside of her dreams and their encounters. This solitary portrait is proof that Lena had lived. That she had been loved.
Kara’s breath leaves her in a rush, as she slowly realizes what this is.
A lover’s final gift, her penance, handed down her family for generations, from one bride to another, with the secret bride who never was inside.
She doesn’t quite know how she feels. It’s a lot to process, and it’s truthfully been a mad whirlwind of the past few days that barely seems real. She looks down at the locket in her hand. Lena’s face smiles up at her, the painting so devotedly true to her likeness, it almost feels like she’s alive.
Well, Kara thinks. If she’s doing this, she might as well go all in. They say every bride goes crazy before the wedding, after all.
Before she can talk herself out of it, Kara grabs her coat and shoves her feet into her boots. She spares a few seconds to root around for a flashlight in the hallway closet before setting out the door.
The air is chilly as she hurries along the familiar overgrown path. Somehow it’s less tranquil and more scary walking along the trail in the middle of the night, with the wind rustling through the trees and insects chirping. The serenity she’d felt before is gone in the oppressive darkness. In the night, everything seems much more ominous, formless shadows flitting around her, the night sounds loud in her ears. The leaves crunching under her feet feel more ominous than comforting now, and Kara finds herself jumping at every sound.
She draws her coat tighter around herself as she nears the graveyard, her flashlight illuminating a narrow beam of light that plays menacingly over the tombstones.
“Lena? Are you there?”
Kara’s voice is a tentative whisper, and she feels stupid. It’s cold, it’s the middle of the night, and she’s in a graveyard, looking for a ghost. Her steps falter, and she sighs, rubbing her arms to stave off the cold. Maybe it’s time to go home.
She turns to leave, but a familiar voice wisps in the wind behind her, making her shiver.
“You came.”
Kara whirls around to see Lena’s pale form behind her. The eerie silver radiance of her skin in the darkness makes her look otherworldly. But the dark red stains on the white of her red seem unnervingly real. Like Kara could touch the mortal wound on her abdomen and still feel the pulsing of blood within.
It reminds Kara of why she’s here.
Her fingers close around the locket around her neck, and she steps forward, closer to Lena. “I did. I… I think I can help you, Lena. I think I know what happened all those years ago.”
“What?” Lena’s voice is thin and hesitant, as though she can scarcely believe Kara’s words. “How--?”
“I see it. In my head, in my dreams every night. I see you and Kara. I’ve seen the love you had for each other, and I’ve seen -- so many things, but I need your help. I don’t have the whole story, there’s a side of it that’s missing, and it’s you.”
“I - I don’t understand, Kara.”
“What do you remember from the night you died?”
“I - I don’t… I don’t remember. So much of it is a fog in my mind...” Lena turns away from Kara, her hands flying to her temples. “It’s been so long. I’ve been waiting so long…”
Kara clutches the locket around her neck. “You have to remember. Please, Lena, remember. Because I have pieces of the puzzle, but you have the key to it. Try, please…. Look, you said you were waiting for Kara. But were you alone?”
“I… I think so. I’ve been alone for so long…”
“What about that night? That night you died?” Kara presses on, her hands coming up, wanting to take Lena’s arms, but she knows that there’s no body there to touch, so she lowers her hand. “You said the place where you were waiting wasn’t a graveyard then. What was it?”
“I - no, it wasn’t, I --” Lena’s voice is becoming higher, panicked and confused. Her beautiful face is lost and frightened. “I don’t know!”
Kara knows she’s pushing too far, and her instinct to comfort and soothe comes to the fore. She reaches out to touch Lena, and before she can remember that Lena is dead -- has been dead for two hundred years -- her hand comes up to touch her shoulder.
She touches nothing, but for a second -- less than a heartbeat -- her fingers meet resistance at the curve of Lena’s shoulder when there should only be empty air.
In that instant, everything changes. A shock comes through the end of Kara’s fingertips, and all at once everything turns white.
As the light blinds her, Kara hears voices in her ear. “Lex is watching, and the trip to Kandor is five days long. I can’t risk you leaving until I know there’s a safe place for us there. I promise you, Lena, I will come back for you.”
An unfamiliar voice. This time, a woman’s. “Lex has informed me that Morgan Edge is arriving tomorrow. This wedding must proceed smoothly, Lena. This is what you and I have been working for your whole life. What have I always told you? Everything I do, I do for you and our family…. We are so close, my dear. Everything we have lost will be restored to us. The Luthor name shall be revered once more, and we can become a family again.”
When the blinding light fades, Kara finds herself in the same old room in Luthor Manor where she and Lena slept. Except the sanctity of the tiny dark room has been violated by another.
Lena is dressed in immaculate white lace, flowers at her breast and in her hair. She looks beautiful and terrible at the same time.
Lex has her by the arm, his face a cold snarl above her as he holds up one of the wine glasses from the dinner table. His hand is wrapped around Lena’s forearm, and Kara rushes forward to rip him off of her, but there’s no use. Her hand passes through Lex, and he continues to sneer menacingly at Lena.
“You’ve never been poisoned before, have you, little sister? Well, I have. Arsenic has a very mild odor.” He holds up the glass to her face before throwing it across the room. Lena stiffens, but she doesn’t flinch. “Usually, one would never recognize it, but I know because my bitch of a wife put it in my drink the night she left me, sneaking off like a frightened little rat, just like you were planning to.”
Lex bares his teeth. “You women, you’re all fools. None more than you, baby sister. You couldn’t even think of a different plan.”
“I did.”
Lena’s free hand subtly disappears within the folds of her dress. As Kara watches, she silently withdraws a knife hidden within her dress and swiftly stabs it into Lex’s side. Lex yells in pain and his eyes widen as Lena twists the handle and pulls the knife out for good measure.
Lex groans as Lena pushes him off of her and leaves him lying on the ground. She gives him one last look, her eyes full of pain and cold anger. “Good bye, Lex.”
Without another backwards glance, Lena draws her cloak around her shoulders and all but flies to the stables. Her horse is there, ready and saddled, and she rides swiftly away from Luthor Manor.
Kara recognizes the path she takes. It’s the same path she’s taken away from the Inze house, the one that leads to the graveyard, and at once, her stomach is filled with dread. She wants to scream at Lena to take a different road, but Lena can’t hear her.
The dread worsens into full panic when she hears hoof beats growing louder and louder near them. She sees the same terror in Lena’s eyes when another horse cuts her path, and the mare she’s riding on rears up in fright.
“Lena!” Kara screams as Lena is thrown off the horse, her head hitting the ground hard. But Lena can’t hear her. She moans feebly on the ground, the back of her head covered in blood. She hangs onto her consciousness, and Kara watches fearfully as Lena tries valiantly to get up.
Behind her, Lex dismounts from his horse, his entire right side blooming red with blood from Lena’s knife. He advances toward her, hand on his side, and Lena stumbles, pulling herself away from him on her arms.
Kara frantically tries what she can to help, even though she knows it’s useless. Her hands can’t pull Lena up or beat Lex away as he drops onto one knee beside her struggling form. A glint of a blade is the only warning Kara gets before the blade Lena had used to stab Lex drives into her body now, and all of Lena’s breath comes out in a choked scream.
“You couldn’t just do what I asked, could you, Lena? Everything would have been perfect, little sister. Our fortunes restored, the Luthor name once again redeemed and exalted, and you would have been set for life.” Lex hisses in her face, flecks of his blood spitting from his mouth to her cheek. “But you had to go and spread your legs for some servant girl like a filthy whore!”
Lena closes her eyes, tears trickling down her face, and Lex laughs mirthlessly at her, voice lowering to a dangerous mutter.
“And where is she now, Lena? Where is your faithful Kara? She never came back for you, did she? You’re about to die, little sister. You’re going to bleed out in this godforsaken road, and she’s not here. You’re all alone.”
Kara screams at him, beats her ineffectual fists at him as he struggles to his feet, away from Lena, dropping her body on the side of the road. Kara drops to her knees beside her fading form, frantically trying to place her hands on her abdomen, as if she could close the wound herself. “Lena…. Lena….”
Her hands can do nothing. Unlike before, there is no resistance when she tries to touch Lena, her hands simply grasp thin air, even though the jagged wound on Lena’s stomach is terrifyingly real. Lena chokes on blood and air, and she can’t see Kara’s pleading face as she mouths her last word.
“Kara…”
All at once, the light blinds Kara again, and she’s wrenched away from Lena. She screams and tries to reach out, but to no avail.
When the light fades, she finds herself in the woods again, this time astride a horse, with Kal by her side.
She spies the limping form of Lex Luthor between the trees, blood trailing behind him, and she feels white-hot rage surge through her veins. She dismounts from her horse and lunges at him, dragging his broken body forward.
“Kara!” Kal’s voice tries to stop her, but Kara is beyond all reason.
She fists her hands into his bloodied collar and shakes him. “Where’s Lena??”
Vaguely, Kara realizes that she’s no longer seeing Lena’s memories, but Kara’s. The realization is lost when Lex laughs, and she wants to tear the smile from his face.
“You're too late.” Lex sneers, blood and spittle flying from his mouth, his face contorted in a terrible smile. “She’s dead.”
Kara finally screams her rage in his face. “You’re lying!! Where is she??!”
Lex doesn’t answer, just laughs and laughs. She wants to kill him, she could so easily finish the job, but she has to find Lena first.
She leaves Lex with Kal, and follows the trail of blood, her stomach turning and her heart pounding in her throat. From a distance, Kara can see where the trail ends, to a pool of blood and a lifeless figure dressed in white.
She screams. And screams.
It feels never-ending.
Everything shifts again, and Kara weeps against it, wanting this to end.
It doesn’t.
When everything rights itself again, Kara is standing in front of the old Luthor Manor. It’s in terrible condition, the west wing has caved in. Its shutters are broken and its windows empty. Like the family it served, it is dead now.
“There’s nothing left here, Kara.” Kal tells her “We should go. There’s nothing for you here.”
Kara shakes her head, resolute. “Not yet. I have a promise to keep.”
Their room is in disrepair. The bed they shared their love on is lifeless and broken, just like her lady. Kara grips the dusty sheets, tears slipping silently down her face. She would howl her grief out if she could. If she could, she would scream and yell and rage for the woman she loved and lost.
But she can’t. Her grief is too far beyond that.
So instead she drops the sheets and bends down to retrieve her oils and paints from their hiding spot in the floor. Nothing else in this room is retrievable, but this -- the last gift Lena gave to her -- is sacred.
That night, with great effort, she lifts the brush again. She can’t paint Lena’s face anymore. It hurts too much. That wound will never heal, but she can seal it within the necklace and place it above her heart.
Instead, Kara paints everything and anything else. She lets the brushes guide her, instead of her guiding them.
For a long time, she paints only in blacks of night and reds of blood and browns of earth covering the dead. She paints in slashes and heavy strokes that demand the weight of grief.
Sometimes the brush becomes too heavy in her hand, and she yearns to put it down, but Kara made a promise, and she is the only one left to keep it for -- herself, and the memory of a dead girl -- so she persists.
And then one day, baby Jon comes toddling into her room, burbling nonsensically around the fist in his mouth.
He waddles unsteadily toward her, tripping into her dress. She catches him with a small oof! And he laughs as a streak of paint smears his cheek. His hand splatters into her paints and he smears them over Kara too, making her chuckle.
They make a little game out of it, smearing paint all over each other, and Kara opens the brighter colors that catch his eye. Soon, both Kara and baby are smeared with greens and yellows and blues and pinks. She opens the colors that had been Lena’s favorites, and she lets Jon smear them onto her face.
She’s just teaching the baby how to mix paints to get orange when Lois catches them red-handed in the middle of their mess.
But instead of scolding them, Lois sees the first smile Kara has cracked in months and she shakes her head at both of them, chuckling, and marches them both off to get a bath.
And so Kara heals.
Slowly, and in small steps forward and many falls backward. But she learns to live again. She learns to build her life around the cavern in her heart.
Lois gives one of her paintings to her sister Lucy as a gift, and it hangs in Lucy’s sitting room for a while, until one of her guests, an illustrious and irrepressible widow named Lady Grant, sees the painting and offers to purchase it from Lucy on the spot.
Lady Grant proceeds to commission an entire series of paintings from Kara, and Kara rapidly acquires more patrons who marvel at her paintings, and praise her on the depth and emotion behind her work.
“One cannot help but be moved by them, by you, Kara.” Lady Grant tells her once in a rare moment of candid compassion.
Through it all, she never forgets her promise.
When, years later, she stands underneath an arch of white flowers -- plumerias, her lady's favorite -- Lois asks what her “something borrowed” is for the wedding, Kara doesn’t answer her.
Instead, Kara silently answers the woman in the portrait, sitting hidden in the necklace above her heart.
“My heart. It will never be owned by another, merely borrowed. He may become my husband, but my heart will always, always belong to you, Lena.”
______________
“Kara… Kara, wake up.”
Kara opens her eyes to see Lena’s face hovering over hers. The ground is cold and hard underneath her, sprinkled lightly with dew. Kara blinks rapidly a few times. It’s morning now, still early if the light is anything to go by, and the first rays of the sun are just brightening the horizon.
“Kara…” Lena’s eyes are relieved as she sits up, but her voice still holds a touch of concern. Her fingers hover lightly over Kara’s shoulder, touching but not quite touching. “Are you alright?”
“Do you… Do you remember now?”
Lena looks away from her, her eyes downcast and pained. Her voice breaks on a single word “Yes, I remember. I died on this road, and Kara, she never came. I was alone.”
“No.” Kara surges forward, ducking her head to get Lena to meet her eyes. “She came back for you. She… she may have been too late, but she came back. She never forgot you, Lena, not for the rest of her life. And she never forgot her promise.”
Lena finally meets her gaze, her eyes full of sorrow and hope long held back.
“Come with me. Let me show you.”
The path feels long and full of the things Kara knows now, but she and Lena walk through it side by side. Kara wishes she could hold Lena’s hand, but she settles for letting her fingers brush the outline of Lena’s.
She takes Lena back to her ancestral home, and opens the doors for her. The morning sun is just high enough now for the light to filter beautifully through the vast windows, painting the rooms with warmth.
“She made this home for you, Lena.” Kara turns to the other woman, who finally steps through the threshold with a look of wonder in her eyes. “All those years ago, Kara promised you she would build you a house filled with light and warmth, and she did. She built it from the ruins of the house where you first shared your love, and she’s kept it for you all these years.... All the women in my family -- every daughter that passed through these halls, every bride that said their vows here, all the way down to my Mother who was married here and left this place to me -- every single one has kept it.... And it was all for you.”
Kara takes the locket on her chest and opens it to show Lena the portrait her Kara made of her. “She kept you in her heart until she was ready to give you to her daughter at her wedding day. She was never able to be with you, but don’t you see...? Every time this necklace passed from one bride in this family to the next, she gave you her vows and she kept you alive.”
A strange sense of peace washes through Kara as she leads Lena through the halls of her family’s home. Lena’s home.
Lena touches the walls of the house, the flowers adorning the staircase, with reverent hands. There are tears on her face, but she is smiling as steps into the light filtering through the windows. She closes her eyes and turns her face to the light, as if she can feel its warmth. Kara stands next to her, feeling her heart fill at the sight of Lena in the home she was promised.
“Your brother cursed you with his last words when he made you believe she would never come back. That you were all alone. He kept you bound to your sadness for so long, but Lena…. your Kara loved you so much that her love for you spanned generations. You don’t have to let his words keep you bound. You can choose to be free.”
Lena’s eyes open slowly, and as Kara watches, her face becomes radiant, awash with blinding love and emotion.
“I…… I see her. I see Kara.” Lena’s reverent voice breaks into a breathless sob. “She says she’s been waiting for me.”
Lena turns back to her one last time, tears of joy shining in her eyes, and Kara knows she will never see her again. “Thank you.”
For a long moment, Lena glows so brightly that the light blinds Kara’s eyes. By the time her eyes open, the light is gone.
And so is Lena.
Kara stands quietly in the middle of the room and takes a long inhale. The melancholia of the past few days is gone. Even the anxiety of the last few weeks seems to have fallen off her shoulders. Instead, she just feels a lightness in her whole body, and a clarity of thought she hasn’t known in a long time.
“Kara?” Alex’s voice comes from behind her, concerned, and Kara turns slowly to face her. “Are you okay?”
Kara huffs a small laugh and beams at her. “Yeah, I really am.”
Alex moves to stand beside her. She’s still in her pajamas, and there’s a quiet sort of hesitation in the way she approaches Kara, all sisterly concern.
Kara smiles warmly at her and offers her hand. Alex takes it and they both look out the vast windows.
“I can’t go through with this wedding, Alex.”
Her sister turns toward her, studying her with a protective eye. When all she sees on Kara’s face is contentment and a tranquil sense of calm, Alex nods. “I know.”
“You do?”
“I could kinda tell.” Alex shrugs and gives her a knowing look. “You’re my sister, I know you. I was just waiting for you to tell me.”
“Does Eliza know?”
“Knowing her, she probably does.”
“Well, then.” Kara inhales long and deep. “I guess the only one left to tell is Mon-El.”
“Why am I not surprised that your groom is the last to know that he’s not gonna be a groom after all?”
________
By SorrowsFlower
This was so fucking hard to write (I actually had most of it written up but it was hard to join them all up together, but it JUST WOULD NOT LEAVE ME ALONE). There is an epilogue of sorts to this, but I think y’all can probably see it coming, so I might as well not write it lol.
#supercorp#supergirl#kara danvers#lena luthor#katie mcgrath#melissa benoist#the corpse bride#supercorp au#fanfic#my writing
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Luke Alvez x Reader: Thanksgiving Dinner
Description: You invite Luke home for Thanksgiving dinner.
Word count: 2.5k
Warnings: none
A/N: sorry i suck at updating! but here’s a fluffy thanksgiving fic. i hate this holiday, but love luke so enjoy!!! (obviously this fic is pre Covid times, so keep ur distance and stay at home y’all)
“It’s just dinner, Luke! And my family really wants to meet you. Please?” You beg again, sitting up again to look into Luke’s eyes pleadingly. The two of you were cuddled up in Luke’s apartment watching a rerun of a show you’d already seen. You had one of his throw blankets wrapped around you, but still shivered. Luke always kept his apartment freezing. Something to do with the fact that he was literally a human furnace.
“Thanksgiving dinner is supposed to be a family thing,” Luke sighs. “I don’t want to impose. Why can’t we just do dinner any other day?” He asks. You frown at him, and furrow your eyebrows, your signature sign of annoyance.
You had only been dating Luke for about six months now, but Luke can read you like an open book. He knows all of your little expressions and mannerisms.
“Because,” you groaned, like that’s the only explanation you need to give. Luke raises his eyebrows, so you continue.
“Because that’s the only time my whole family will be there and I want you to meet all of them,” you huffed, falling back against Luke’s headboard, a few inches between the two of you now. “I don’t understand why you won’t just come.”
“Baby,” Luke chuckles, reaching over and pulling you back into his side, like you had been sitting just a moment ago.
When your frown doesn’t go away, Luke sighs. “Okay.”
“Okay?” you ask.
“Okay, I’ll do Thanksgiving.”
You smile smugly, and lean back into Luke’s side. “Thank you,” you murmured. Luke gives your side a slight squeeze.
“You're lucky I like you so much,” Luke chuckles.
...
Luke straightens his shirt in the mirror one more time, making sure his hair is intact and his shirt wasn’t too wrinkly. He really, really wants your family to like him, and if he doesn’t look perfect or say exactly the right thing, he knows he’ll blow it.
He’s gone with a dark blue button down, one of your favorites. He picked out his best pair of pants and even trimmed his beard so that it looked clean and presentable.
There’s a knock on the door as soon as he’s finished tucking his shirt into his pants, and he lets out a long breath before he goes to answer it. He checks his teeth in the mirror beside the coat closet before he opens the door, finding you waiting for him in the hallway.
You both just kind of stare at each other for a long moment.
You have on a white sweater and dark pants. Your hair sits perfectly on top of your head in a big bun.
Luke breaks the silence first, reaching out to pull you into his chest. He kisses you softly. “You look great,” he murmurs against your lips.
“So do you,” you whispered. “We’re gonna be late if we don’t get going now. Are you ready?” you asked, reaching for Luke’s hand when he nods. Luke allows you to lead him down the hall and to the elevator, and then out to his car.
The two of you pull up to your parents house an hour later, you’re quick to undo your seatbelt and climb out of the car. There are already several other cars in the driveway, and Luke tries to guess who might already be here as you walk him up to the front door.
There’s a wreath already hung on the door as you ring the doorbell. Luke squeezes your hand tight, making you turn around and look up at him in amusement.
“Are you nervous?” you ask, smirking.
Luke shrugs, “A little bit,” he says.
“They’re going to love you,” you assure him and then the door swings open.
You whirl around, grinning at the little girl in the doorway. Luke recognizes her as one of your cousins from the countless pictures he’s been shown, but he isn’t sure which one she is.
“Hey bug,” you say excitedly, and the little girl jumps excitedly. She runs the few steps it takes to close the distance and jumps into your arms, hugging you tightly around your neck. Luke’s heart melts as he watches you twirl around the porch with her a bit, before putting her down and letting her run back inside.
“That was Kate,” you tell him before taking his hand in yours. Luke nods, already storing the information in his long term memory.
You lead Luke inside, just in time to hear Kate announce to the whole house that you and your “cute boyfriend” were there. Luke smiles at that and you look up at him with the widest crinkly-eyed grin, leading him around the corner to the kitchen.
Luke was not prepared for the crowd of people gathered as soon as they turned the corner.
There’s a male that looks just like you sitting on a stool at the bar, with a double version of himself sitting next to him. Luke immediately recognizes them as your twin brothers. He knew their names, but couldn't for the life of him, tell who was who. Kate has found two other young kids, around the same age as her, and all three of them are clawing at the dress of a woman who Luke presumes is their mother.
There’s an older woman stirring something in a pot on the stove, and another, younger woman sipping from a wine glass and holding a baby. In the attached living room three men sit on the couch, a football game on the flatscreen TV.
Luke is a bit overwhelmed by the chaos of it all, but when you squeeze his hand a little bit tighter, he feels like he can breathe again. You quietly start pointing out who is who before actually bringing him around the room.
He learns that your twin brothers were named Caleb and Elliot. He also learns that Caleb has his hair parted down the middle of his head, whereas Elliot’s was just combed back.
He learns that the woman stirring the pot on the stove was your mother, and the woman getting mauled by all the young kids was your Aunt Christine, and that her three kids were named Kate, Emily, and James. The woman nursing her glass of wine was your older sister, Caroline, and that the baby she was cradling was your three month old nephew. Her husband was one of the three men sitting on the couch. The other two being your uncle Mark and your grandfather.
“The one in the war?”
You nod.
Christine is the one that makes the obligatory new-comer to the family joke about there being a test later on who is who, and when your mother has finally put the turkey in the oven, she turns around to get a good look at Luke.
“So,” she begins, wiping her hands on a tea towel and untying her apron. “You’re the famous Luke that my baby talks endlessly about every time she calls home.” You throw her a look, one that clearly means stop- but Luke just laughs softly and squeezes your hand again.
“Yeah, that’s me,” Luke grins.
“So Luke,” your sister pipes up. “What do you do?”
Luke hesitates. His job was slightly unconventional, so he always just assumed you would have told them about it.
“I work for the Bureau,” he states nonchalantly, but he notices the hush that falls over the room.
“The FBI?” your sister asks.
Luke bites his lip and nods.
“Is that like the police?” one of the little kids asks.
Luke nods, smiling, “Yeah, I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”
There’s a blank silence- Luke interprets it as no one knows what the hell that meant.
He clarifies.
“I study criminal behavior to assist in investigations.”
The whole kitchen remains quiet. Luke feels his stomach drop, as he suddenly starts wondering if he said something wrong. He notices you flinch, digging nails into the back of his hand until someone breaks the silence.
“Y/N,” says your grandfather from the couch, and everyone turns to look at him. “Is that boy a cop?”
“He’s not a cop,” you say. “He’s FBI. There’s a difference.”
Luke turns to look at you, lips parted in surprise. Clearly he was missing something here, as the tension grew thicker.
“You’re dating a cop?” He asks, standing right in front of the two of you now.
Luke lets go of your hand and wipes it hastily on his pants.
“He’s not a cop, he’s-”
“He’s a cop,” your grandfather sighs, he doesn’t seem mad, more disappointed. “After what your family has been through, I figured you’d know better.”
Luke looks between you and your grandfather uncomfortably before taking a step back towards the entryway of the kitchen.
“I- uh-” Luke stammers. “I didn’t mean to offend anyone-”
“You didn’t,” your mother pipes in finally. “Dad- that’s enough.”
“Okay,” he says, putting his hands up in defense. But the malice was still there.
Luke takes another step back. “Maybe I should go- I don’t mean to impose.” He takes another few steps before turning around altogether.
He hears you scoff harshly. “Nice going.”
You chase after him, grabbing Luke’s hand and pull him straight out the front door. Luke stands off to the side of the yard, pinching harshly at his own nose.
You reach for Luke with an apologetic look on your face. Luke opens his mouth before you can, though, spitting out the words that are probably on everyone else’s mind right now.
“I should leave,” he says, taking a step back when you reach for him again. “They hate me. I knew I shouldn’t have come in the first place. I’ll call an Uber home, you can take the car.” he mutters, turning away and reaching into his pocket for his phone.
“Luke,” you argue, pulling his arm down. Luke groans, refusing to meet your gaze.
“You’re not leaving,” you say. “They don’t hate you, not at all. They haven’t even gotten to know you yet, and they’re absolutely not going to hate you because of your job, of all things. My Grandfather is just a little crazy, but he’ll get over it, I swear,” you assure him.
“Why didn’t you tell them I was in the FBI in the first place, if you talk about me to your mom so much? Kind of a defining feature, I would think,” he grumbles, stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest.
“Uh, it didn’t come up?” you offer. Luke rolls his eyes.
“Did it have to?” He asks, voice dripping with annoyance.
You finally sigh, rolling your eyes and running your hand through your hair. “Alright, my dad was a cop. Right here in Baltimore. He died when I was thirteen. Shot in the line of duty. So we had to grow up without him. I didn’t tell them you were a cop because I knew that if I did my mom would wanna talk about my dad, and I didn’t want to talk about my dad.”
There’s a long, heavy silence before you sigh.
“I’m sorry, I should’ve told her,” you admit, shoulders slumping slightly. “I didn’t think any of them would react like this. I guess it’s still a little raw.”
Luke takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, letting that all sink in. He can see why your family might be a little cautious. Because all that hurt that your family had to deal with must have really been awful.
“You never told me that. I’m sorry that happened,” he says softly, reaching out to squeeze your hand. You look up at him hopefully, trying to lace your fingers together.
“I promise, after like five minutes of getting to know you, they’re going to love you, just like I did, I promise.”
Your eyes widen at your sudden admission. You look to Luke to see if he noticed your slip up. His grin says it all.
“Love me, huh?” he asks slyly.
You try to brush it off, but Luke’s not having it.
He takes a step forward in the grass and gently touches your chin, he tilts it up so that you’re looking at him. “I love you, too.” He says before pressing his soft lips to yours.
When he pulls away, you bite back your smile. “So you’ll try?” You ask.
Luke nods his head and lets you tug him back inside the house.
“Luke,” your mother says softly and Luke freezes, looking up at her like a deer in the headlights. He can only imagine that she’s about to kindly ask him to leave. “Oh, you poor thing, how rude you must think we are,” she says instead.
Luke shakes his head. “No ma’am,” he insists.
“I’m not sure if Y/N has told you about her father, but he was a cop. Sixteen years,” she stares off as if remembering him. “He passed away in the line of duty. It was terrible- the kids having to grow up without their father. And terrible for me to raise them without my husband. I never wanted that for my kids.”
Luke’s chest tightens again.
“But I’m so sorry about what my father said to you, and I want you to know that you are always welcome inside this house, because you obviously make my daughter very happy, and that makes me very happy,” she says, giving you a smile that looks so much like yours that it eases him just the same.
He releases the breath he was holding and lets himself smile, nodding quickly. “Thank you,” he says, giving your mother his most genuine smile.
“See? Told you she’d love you,” you say smugly.
Luke chuckles softly.
During dinner, Luke works his charm and is able to wiggle his way into every family member's heart. You marvel in awe as he’s able to carry on a conversation about football with your grandfather and uncle. Luke knows a surprising amount about the Ravens- even though he’s a Patriots fan. After dinner, when they all gather in the living room to watch the game, Luke turns out to be as loud and passionate about football as the rest of the men, even with Kate seated on his thigh, because for some reason she will not let him put her down.
After dessert is over you and Luke finally start to say your goodbyes to everyone with promises to visit soon.
By the time you get back to Luke’s apartment, you’re both too full and sleepy from the turkey to do much more than cuddle for a while.
“I told you my family would adore you,” you sigh. “Even my grandfather warmed up to you by the end of the night. Everyone loves you. But I love you the most,” you say, clearly already drifting off to sleep.
Luke smiles to himself and presses a long kiss to the top of your head.
“I love you too,” he whispers softly, before letting himself drift off to sleep as well.
#luke alvez imagine#luke alvez fic#luke alvez x reader#luke alvez x reader imagine#luke alvez x reader fic#criminal minds fic#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds x reader imagine
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hey🥺 can u pls write a blurb about harry getting jealous when u start talking and laughing with another guy. and then he starts acting like a baby but u reassure him that ur all his🥺🥺 i would love it thank u so much love ur writing is amazing
Thank you so much 💕💕💕 I really hope you like this! As always requests are always open so plz send in anymore ideas you have 💖
Insecure
Harry was feeling insecure.
Thirty minutes ago he was confused, 15 minutes ago he was angry and now he was just kinda sad.
Harry and Y/N arrived to Glenne’s birthday a couple hours ago, glued to the hip as they made their way throughout the venue. The pair had been inseparable all night, although that came as no surprise to anyone, always one with the other as they chatted with friends, got drinks or danced.
That was until Samuel showed up, Glenne’s annoyingly handsome cousin who was some hot shot twenty four year old businessman.
He also hadn’t left Y/N alone.
Harry had left her side for probably only four minutes, running to the bathroom quickly and as he walked back into the large space, he saw his lovie throwing her head back laughing as the pair stood alone.
He watched from a distance, pretending to talk to Jeff as his eyes were glued on her, watching as she smiles up at him as he told her a story, his skin burning as he watched Samuel playfully nudged her shoulder, stepping closer to her when her eyes close as she laughs again.
The anger in him quickly subsided and he was replaced with insecurity, watching as this handsome man made her laugh and all he could think about was how much easier her life would be if she was with him.
Samuel could always be there for her. He could go with her wherever she would go and he wouldn’t have to leave her for months on end like Harry had to and Harry couldn’t help but think that Samuel would be better for her.
“Just go over there.” Jeff chuckled, gesturing over to Y/N with the beer in his hand, “You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve been saying, just staring at her.”
“I can’t.” Harry wearily spoke, “she deserves someone like him, someone who can always be there for her. I can’t be that! And anyways she’s having a good time and I would hate to ruin her fun-“
“Are you fucking insane!?” Jeff exclaimed with a laugh, shoving the mans shoulder, “I’ve never seen any two people more in love than you too. Go get your girl, you have nothing to be insecure about.”
Harry slowly nodded, setting his drink down in the table and rubbing his sweaty palms on his trousers, a shaky breath escaping him as he approached his love.
He felt silly feeling his heart race as he approached his girlfriend of two years as if it was going to be the first time he’d ever be speaking to the beautiful girl.
“Hi Y/N.” He shyly spoke, coming up next to the girl before glancing at Samuel, giving him a soft smile before turning back to her, “sorry, there was a long line in the bathroom.”
“That’s okay, Bubs.” She reassured, noticing his off behavior and intertwining their fingers, “Sam was just telling me some funny stories of him and Glenne when they were kids, I’m sure you have plenty!”
“Oh yeah I’ve got some.” He chuckles, shuffling a bit under Sam’s intense gaze, struggling to think of something.
Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, utterly confused by how much his demeanor had changed since before he went to the bathroom, not his usually confident and charismatic behavior. She looks up at him, giving him a questioning look before she apologizes to Sam and starts walking away, Harry following behind her like a lost puppy.
His eyes ran over her, staring at her bare back as it was exposed by the backless, custom made Gucci dress Harry had got for her, making her look like an angel.
She lead him out of the party, back into the coat room where the sound was drowned out through the walls, quickly turning to face him with a pout on her lips.
“What’s wrong?” She frowned, one hand raising to his hair as the other rests on his chest, gripping his jacket, “did something happen?”
He shrugged his shoulders, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her tight again his chest, “I need cuddles.” He whispered, “...do you like Sam more than me?”
“What?” She nearly laughed, forcing herself not to when she saw his teary eyes when she pulled back to look at him, “no! Not even close! I don’t know anything about him. I love you, Harry. Why would you even think that?”
“I don’t know.” He practically whimper, “you just were laughing with some much and you looked so happy... I just... a guy like that could always be there for you and I’ll never be able to be that, I’m always all over the place and busy and-“
Y/N cut him off, wrapping her arms right around him and snuggling her face in his chest, rubbing his back soothingly to try and pry the insecurity out of him. She goes up on her tiptoes, kissing his lips softly before moving into his jaw and wiping away the few stray tears.
“You’re my favorite person in the world, H. I wanna be with you forever. Nobody makes me happy or laugh as much as you do. I am so in love with you.” She sympathizes, “okay, Bubby?”
He sniffles and lets out a soft giggle, slowly pressing their lips together, arms going around her waist as hers go up to his shoulders. Harry pulls back, pressing a few kisses to her cheek before spinning her quickly, pressing her back against his chest causing her to let out a loud laugh.
“And I love you, angel, so so much.... will you dance with me?” He whispered down into her ear, hearing the slow song faintly playing as they still stood in the coat closet, already rocking her slowly as they started to dance.
“Always.”
#harry styles smut#harry styles fan fic#harry styles imagines #harry styles fluff#harry styles angst#harry styles blurb#harry styles one shot#harry styles x reader
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The High Crown - Obikin Royalty AU
True love or the crown? A question Anakin thought he'd never have to answer.
Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25884949/chapters/62899801
Summary: Every eye in the Kingdom of Tatooine is on their young prince, Anakin Skywalker, as he goes into an arranged marriage in order to claim his place as king. However, Anakin finds himself wishing things were different when he meets the dashing knight, Obi-Wan Kenobi. A connection is forged between the two men in the shadows, and thus, a burning attraction they simply cannot ignore. Love, secrecy, and lies all fall into the path of the young Prince Skywalker as he makes his way to his rightful place as king.
ch 1 & 2 under and on a03 <3
Chapter one - Prologue
In the land of Tatooine, a large country surrounded by sea and forest, there once lived a young prince called Anakin. He was devastating and gorgeous, often pretending he was not a prince, but a knight instead. He liked the workers more than his cousins, he hid in the kitchen cabinets to avoid his responsibilities, and often found himself in all sorts of trouble.
“Anakin, I know you’re in here,” called out Qui-Gon, a member of the royal guard who had elected to watch over Anakin.
“I know you don’t want to do this your grace,” Qui-Gon said, laying eyes on the young prince, at last.
It was the morning of his mother’s funeral. Anakin was roughly eleven, twelve if you directly asked him. Qui-Gon picked up a piece of bread that had been reserved for the funeral, broke it in half, and sat down at the table with the young prince. He handed him a slice, to which he took with suspicion.
“What if it gets on my funeral clothes?” Anakin asked, already taking a bite. Qui-Gon felt poorly for the boy, knowing that this day would likely live in his memory forever. Not as a son who’d lost his mother, but as the young, expectation-laden prince of Tatooine. Qui-Gon took a bite before replying.
“Then we’ll both have crumbs, I suppose.” Anakin quietly laughed at Qui-Gon, who was grateful more than anything to see him smile. After a moment’s rest, the two stood up and Anakin paced closely behind Qui-Gon. He didn’t want to go to the funeral reception but would follow Qui-Gon anywhere he said to. Even before his mother had passed away, Qui-Gon had always taken care of him.
Without ever admitting it- Anakin was terrified.
He’d liked his mother very much. She had long, brown hair, always smelled of fruit, and knew exactly how to make him feel better. She didn’t see him as anything other than a boy, which Anakin greatly struggled with when finding worthwhile companions.
Anakin did all but take Qui-Gon’s had as they walked out to the courtyard, where the funeral reception was being held. He did the rounds with the general, begrudgingly saying hello to various royal representatives. He received wet, perfumed hugs from women he did not know, aggressive handshakes from tall, intimidating men. If everything had gone his way, he would have run off with Poe, a worker’s son that Anakin revered as his one and only friend close to his age.
After walking around with Qui-Gon, Anakin eventually grew tired and slipped away, anxious to get to his favorite hiding spot on the castle grounds. He ran up the cobblestone stairs to the tallest point in the castle, where archers and guards used to patrol while members of the royal family still lived there. Anakin reached the top, breath heavy from running and body warm from his heavy funeral clothing. He went directly to his spot at the ledge of the roof when he saw him, a boy.
The young prince quickly hid behind a pillar, hoping that the sound of his footsteps hadn’t alerted the stranger of his presence. He peered from behind the object, careful so that he would not see him. He was far older than Anakin, appearing to be eighteen at the very youngest. He had long, blond hair that hugged his face, and had perched himself at the edge, dangling his legs and looking down at the reception.
“You might come and talk with me if it would please you,” he said, his voice smooth and low. Anakin could feel something in his chest when he heard him but couldn’t quite place his finger on it. He’d never felt so nervous, not even when he’d spoken to adults.
The boy stood up, a solid foot and a half above Anakin. He wore a tight, black shirt and pants, he held out his hand to Anakin, “I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi.”
Anakin stood there, unable to move at the closeness of the stranger. He jerked out his hand to shake Obi-Wan’s, whose long fingers surrounded all of his hand. This interaction only made the young prince more nervous, as the feeling of Obi-Wan’s warm, strong hand around him made him feel odd. Perhaps he’d been stung by something or waved his hand too close to a lit candle.
“I’m Anakin,” he replied, softly, knowing that Obi-Wan’s entire demeanor would change once he knew who he was. A blip of silence filled the space between the two boys while Anakin waited for the inevitable, he looked down at his shoes.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Anakin. Would you like to sit with me?” Obi-Wan asked. Anakin looked up at him, still silent at the never-ending pressure of the boy’s attention.
Obi-Wan smiled at Anakin, “we don’t even have to talk if won’t have it, I promise,” Anakin quickly nodded at him, shocked at how normally he was being treated.
Usually, when people realized who he was; the motherless, pathetic Prince of Tatooine, they treated him like a glass object to be gawked at in a display case. Obi-Wan made him feel like just a boy. Nervous, but a boy none the less. The two walked toward the edge in silence and sat down only a few inches from each other, legs dangerously hanging off the edge.
“Are you a knight?” Anakin asked, looking up at Obi-Wan.
He smiled at the young prince, “I’m training to be one, actually,” Obi-Wan replied.
Anakin sighed loudly, “they won’t let me be a knight. What’s your training like?” Obi-Wan laughed quietly, his warm breath puffing clouds into the air before he began explaining to Anakin the going-abouts of his day.
Anakin smiled back at him; nobody he’d met before at any royal event had ever treated him so normally, made him feel quite so seen.
The pair talked until the reception was over, going back and forth from Anakin asking questions to Obi-Wan answering them, trying to change the subject, and Anakin immediately going back to his Knighthood. Anakin was sad when his new friend had to leave, save that he knew very little about him, and had only interacted with him for a few hours.
However, as the days progressed, Anakin couldn’t help but wonder about him when he saw the statues of armor lining the hallways. He couldn’t help it as thoughts of Obi-Wan Kenobi, the knight in training, filled empty spaces in his mind as time and time went by.
-
Eight years passed as the country of Tatooine watched the young prince grow up. Every eye was on Anakin as he approached his twentieth birthday, the year he would take his mother’s spot as ruler of Tatooine. Whether or not he would like it, twenty would also be the year he was to be married.
He sat across from Qui-Gon as he had so many times before while they ate a quiet breakfast. Poe, Anakin’s valet, usually joined them. However, today he would be with the rest of the castle workers arranging for the visitors that would be arriving later in the day.
“You needn’t be nervous,” Qui-Gon said, bringing his usual cup of coffee up to his lips while he waited on Anakin to take anything more than a bite from his meal.
“I’ve never met her,” Anakin stopped and took a sip of his water, “Padmé.”
“Your betrothed?” Qui-Gon asked, witnessing Anakin’s body recoil in nerves at the statement.
“She’s not my betrothed,” Anakin said, wary of how bratty he must have sounded. He’d known this day was coming his entire life, it was not as though he’d gone unprepared for the day he’d enter into his arranged engagement. Which was a simpler way of describing an arranged marriage.
Anakin wrapped his fingers around his cup and tapped the glass with his nails, “why do they call it an arranged engagement rather than an arranged marriage?”
Qui-Gon lifted his eyebrow at Anakin, “I know your tutors have explained this to you,” he took a final sip of his coffee. “Your royal advisors are not against you, they want you to be happy, so they have provided several months for you to get to know Padmé before you enter into a marriage.”
“Is the illusion of choice better than the discomfort of being forced to do something General?” Anakin asked, throwing his head back in his chair and pouting. Before Qui-Gon could get another word in, they heard a loud knocking at the kitchen door.
Poe walked into the room, dressed in his nicest clothing and dark hair gelled back. He looked at Anakin angrily, “do you not care what you look like when you meet the Princess of Naboo your highness?”
Anakin stood up to respond to him, knowing that he would soon be taken away to get ready with Poe. He stopped him, putting a hand on his shoulder and shaking his head, “don’t bother, come with me.” Anakin shot a quick wave at Qui-Gon as he left with Poe to get ready.
He stood in front of a tall mirror that was propped against the wall in his room as Poe slipped his jacket over his large shoulders. Anakin looked at himself, confused, wondering how it was he was allowed to be wearing clothing that looked like this. It was the coat of one of his uncles, he’d recognized it from the paintings in the hallway. It was a dark, velvet jacket with stamps of ornate designs rolling up the sleeves, so intricate that he looked as though he’d been steeped in gold. He furrowed his brow, questioning the judgment of whoever had allowed him to look so grown-up.
“Are you well your grace?” Poe asked, taking a comb to his hair briefly, knowing that Anakin would swipe it away in a matter of moments.
“I’m very well,” he responded, staying still so that Poe could fix the crown on his head. It was the only one he liked; small, brass-colored, and more reminiscent of his mother’s than anything that had been made for him. “Thank you,” he said, looking up at Poe.
Anakin was more than capable of getting himself dressed, but valued the time spent with Poe. There was also the fact that he could somehow never replicate how he felt when Poe dressed him with anybody but him. He’d been his only friend, save Qui-Gon, ever since he could remember.
“Are you ready, Prince Skywalker?” Poe asked, his use of Anakin’s formal title making him laugh. He always knew how to bring out the best of him.
“I suppose,” Anakin replied, admiring the designs on his coat, considering wearing it every day of the week that he was allowed. He stepped out into the hallway en route to the Grand Foyer, where Princess Amidala would be waiting to be formally introduced to Anakin, who was doing his best to calm his nervous heart. Something about today felt so different, he hadn’t quite felt like this since before. Like he was standing on the precipice of something that would change his world forever. After all, his marriage to Padmé would be the catalyst to his reign as King of Tatooine, a role he’d been preparing for his entire life.
He stopped at the double doors, where Qui-Gon was waiting for him. He wore his formal military attire; a look Anakin only saw at balls. As the retired General of the Tatooine royal guard, Qui-Gon was well decorated. The sound of trumpets echoed through the lonely hallway as Anakin walked through the room, Poe trailing at his coat like a guard dog.
Anakin opened his mouth to greet the princess, but found himself caught on a word the moment he saw her; Padmé Amidala.
She was beautiful, dark brown hair tied up in an intricate braid, a light blue ballgown draping off her shoulders like it would be a crime if anybody wore it other than her. She was stunning, encapsulating, and the object of Anakin’s undivided attention; had it not been for the man standing next to her.
“Good morning, princess,” Anakin said, taking her hand and placing a warm kiss on her knuckles. Anakin could feel his face growing red, and not at the closeness of the princess. He was sick under the attention of the soldier she had at her side, was everyone from Naboo gorgeous? Anakin wondered, and have I seen this man before?
“Good morning, Prince Skywalker,” she replied with a quick curtsy, “it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Anakin did his best to move his gaze to Padmé.
“Yes, and the same to you,” he replied, choking on his words. He’d never been so inarticulate before in his life. But he couldn’t stop looking at him, the soldier with the dark blonde hair. He was clad in white and gold armor that showed off his cut muscles and frankly, regal posture.
“This is the General of my royal guard, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Anakin let out a repressed laugh that sounded more like a cough.
“Kenobi, your highness?” Anakin cleared his throat, “Obi-Wan Kenobi?”
“That is what she just said, your grace,” Poe whispered into Anakin’s ear.
The General of the Naboo royal guard held out his hand, “it’s a pleasure, your highness.”
Anakin reached his hand out to shake it, feeling his body shoot back in place at the feeling of Obi-Wan’s fingers touching his, wrapped around him. He’d gotten taller and stronger since Anakin’s mother’s funeral, but no less captivating.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Anakin replied, failing to take his gaze off of the General. He felt Poe kick at his heels, bringing him back to life. Padmé awkwardly laughed, doing her best to remain collected in an already tense situation.
“We will join you tonight for dinner, Princess,” Qui-Gon said, bowing to her and motioning for Anakin to leave. Anakin and Poe bowed as well, their short-lived interaction with Padmé Amidala coming to an abrupt end.
Surely the meeting was meant to last longer than all of two minutes, but Anakin was embarrassing the country of Tatooine with his behavior. Even after he was out of sight, his mind could only focus on General Kenobi.
“Have you been stabbed, your grace?” Poe said, throwing his hands in the air at Anakin the moment the double doors closed.
Anakin shook his head, eyes focused on the ground. He hadn’t thought of Obi-Wan Kenobi for years and was positive the knight didn’t remember him at all.
“The General will come to dinner tonight,” Anakin said, hungry to know more.
He walked past Qui-Gon and Poe, knowing that they would pester him about his behavior and do their best to coach him into acting better, which he was well capable of. Anakin would act better, be charming, and formal as a good prince should be to a princess.
However, until then, he’d hoard his excitement to see Obi-Wan in his warm palms. He continued to his quarters, thinking back to the day of his mother’s funeral. He disregarded the calls of an exasperated Poe as a small, a secret smile began to line his lips.
Chapter 2 – Enchanted
Anakin found himself dreaming of him, The General Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Some dreams unremarkable and some that gripped his chest tight enough to rip him out of sleep. He’d had one in particular that’d plagued him on the fourth anniversary of his mother’s funeral.
The setting was always the same, the two were joined together at the ledge of the castle, their feet off the edge, neither looking at the other. Except, Anakin wasn’t the scared, small eleven-year-old anymore. He was fifteen, he was older and had grown taller, bigger. Obi-Wan always looked the same no matter how many years had passed. Gorgeous, sun reflecting off his blonde hair and making it look like perhaps it was sparkling.
Neither boy would talk to the other, and the dream always ended at the same point. Anakin would turn to Obi-Wan and ask him to stay with him.
The ending would never change, either.
Obi-Wan would reach his hand over and place his palm on top of Anakin’s fingers. Anakin could feel the warmth of his skin as though he’d physically touched them himself. Anakin would fold his fingers into his, taking the older boy’s hand. It would be enough to jolt Anakin awake, his body drenched in sweat and leading to a sleepless night.
He recalled every moment of his pained, long dreams about Obi-Wan as Poe helped him dress for dinner. He couldn’t quite place why he’d dreamt about the general so much. Or why someone he’d only met once, and for a few hours, had such an intense lasting impression on him.
“You’re awfully quiet prince,” Poe remarked, sitting on a small stool in front of Anakin. “Is it the General?” Poe asked, raising his eyebrow at Anakin.
“What should you mean by that?” Anakin started, before Poe interrupted him.
“You used to look at me that way,” Poe said, smiling up at him.
It was true, the pair had a complicated history. Poe was the first person Anakin ever had feelings for, besides Obi-Wan. They’d had a brief affair that ended in true friendship, as Anakin’s title would never allow him to marry outside the monarchy. Though, Poe taught Anakin nearly everything he knew about courtship- talking, kissing, almost everything.
“Just make me look dashing as always,” Anakin requested, a wicked smile peeking out from the side of his smirk. “And not for the General, for my betrothed.”
Poe hummed, motioning his hands to Anakin for him to stand up. He started to roll his sleeves back down to his wrists. “You shouldn’t fool me for a moment, my prince,” said Poe, pining a gold circle into the cuff of his jacket.
He’d dressed Anakin in a dark green jacket, one of his favorites to prepare him for the dinner. Nothing quite helped the young prince feel better than a well-tailored suit. He would need it to face them both, his childhood obsession and his soon to be bride.
“Just remember as I taught you, your grace,” Qui-Gon said as he escorted Anakin down to the dining room. They could not have a repeat of this morning, where Anakin had to be honorably removed from the Grand Foyer due to his incompetence around Obi-Wan Kenobi.
“I swear to do better, Qui-Gon,” Anakin replied, placing a hand on his large shoulder, “though I’d feel much better if you joined us.”
Qui-Gon shot a small, careful smile at Anakin, “I believe you to have far more friends than you can handle, at the moment, prince.”
Qui-Gon opened the gold-crested double doors for Anakin, releasing him into the dining room. Until now, the grand, decorated table had been bitterly out of use. Since Anakin’s mother had passed, there was seldom any kind of gathering that merited so many placemats. Anakin wondered how the castle workers were able to remove eight years of dust in one night.
He scoured the many seats that were available, running an index finger over the decorated, ornate ridges that lined the top of the chairs. Anakin chose a seat in the middle, one that would face Padmé. He ignored the head of the table, feeling all too peculiar about taking the seat he’d last seen his mother sit in. His palms went clammy at the thought of her; he wished that she could be his side more than anything, that night.
“Princess,” Anakin said, standing up immediately as Padmé entered the room.
She looked stunning, not to Anakin’s surprise. She wore a long, pink dress that showed off her arms, making them look soft and dipped in glitter. He smiled at her, offering his hand across the table and pressing a cold kiss to her knuckles. She sat down at the seat facing Anakin, General Kenobi following closely behind and sitting next to her.
Anakin sat back down at his seat, awkwardly. He’d grown taller and bigger than he’d liked, which meant he struggled finding places that his arms did not feel cramped. He thought it was quite un-prince-like of him. Padmé and Obi-Wan filed into their seats and exchanged a quick whisper. Anakin felt a smooth pang of jealousy, though unsure who the jealousy was placed for.
Conversation presumed as normal, exchanging formal pleasantries about their nights. Obi-Wan kept quiet, as though he was merely a statue on the wall instead of a person at the table.
“Would you tell me about your childhood, your highness?” Padmé asked, pulling a glass of water up to her perfectly lined lips.
Anakin laughed into his cup of water. Not at all that his childhood was a topic of humor, but more that he always found the subject of his late mother as the most interesting of dinner conversations.
He held up the empty wine glass in front of him, imagining that he would need more than just water to get through the night. One of the cooks quickly filled it halfway with a dark red liquid. Anakin shot a quick glance at general Kenobi, who was still clad in his gold and white uniform.
“My mother raised me in the firm belief that fathers were not necessary figures of the household. She was a fine queen and an even better mother.” he brought the glass up to his lips and took a sip. “Though, passed away when I was very young.”
Obi-Wan awkwardly folded his hands together in front of them, Anakin couldn’t help but imagine what they looked like underneath his gloves. He questioned if his knuckles went white when his hand was in a fist, if scars decorated his fingertips.
“I’m so sorry my lord,” Padmé quipped in her bird-like princess voice. She couldn’t help but be good and genuine in everything she did.
“It’s all well princess, I have grown well and passed it. There was a lovely funeral I remember fondly,” Anakin said, Obi-Wan folded his hands tighter.
Anakin took another sip, his gaze still locked onto the young General. He thought, for a moment, that Obi-Wan had been looking at him. He should’ve, if Anakin was talking about his mother’s funeral. He’d expected some sort of physical reaction from Obi-Wan, something to signal to Anakin that he’d without a doubt been the boy at the top of the castle.
“I believe your General was there,” Anakin said, already feeling a light dizziness grow in his head. Obi-Wan set his glass on the table. The tension at the dinner was so palpable Anakin could have taken a knife and popped it like a bubble.
“I beg your pardon, your highness,” Obi-Wan replied, with more words than Anakin had heard him use in his entire time at the castle. It threw a bolt into Anakin’s throat, hearing the young General call him by his title.
“You heard me correctly, General, I believe I met you once my mother’s funeral reception, unless I am to be wrong,” Anakin said, continuing to drink. He could feel the panic that was no doubt settling into Qui-Gon from all the way across the castle.
Obi-Wan looked over at Padmé as if to ask for permission from the princess to reply to Anakin.
“I apologize, you must have me mistaken, Prince Skywalker,” Obi-Wan said, his accent thick and smooth like velvet, “I am a soldier, I’m afraid I’d never be invited to the funeral of a queen.”
Anakin felt a burning rage pill inside of him under the burning lens of Obi-Wan’s eye contact.
Or was it something else?
He wondered, his chest fluttering like a caged bird. He took another drink.
“The apology is all mine, General Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he replied, careful to enunciate every vowel, as though to signal to the General that he knew he was lying. Anakin was never wrong and would especially not be wrong about something like this.
The rest of the dinner carried on awkwardly, as Padmé would attempt to make conversation and Anakin would deflect it immediately. He’d never caved like this before, but under the undying attention of the Naboo royal circle, he couldn’t help but neglect up every word that came through his mouth.
Despite his interaction with Obi-Wan during the middle of the meal, he found himself undeniably drawn to the young General. He watched him eat, drink, breathe.
Anakin wondered, carelessly, how it felt to be the wine at the back of the General’s throat.
He pushed his knees together under the table, foolishly fearing that anybody could read his thoughts.
“Tonight was quite pleasant, prince. Will I be in your presence tomorrow?” Padmé asked, standing at the double doors with Anakin.
The dinner had not been as pleasant as Anakin had hoped. However, any moment was made infinitely sweeter in Padmé’s presence. Anakin breathed in a long sigh of her perfume and took the Princesses’ hand, doing his best to rip his mind away from her young General.
“Tomorrow princess,” he replied, bringing her small fingers up to his mouth.
He liked Padmé, there was no doubt concerning his affections for her. She was beautiful and kind, it was only the fault of Anakin that he be so distracted at the company of her General. He heard a quick shut of one of the back doors to of the dining room, Obi-Wan’s absence already penetrating the room.
Padmé smiled at Anakin as she left down the hallway, her pretty teeth peering through an utterly tiny mouth. Anakin watched her leave, and not to look at her any longer, but to realize exactly the moment he could go looking for Obi-Wan.
Anakin searched the hallway for any sight of him, feeling foolish beyond his years that he couldn’t locate someone in his own castle. He nearly gave up his search for Obi-Wan when he caught the feintest smell of his cologne. It was enough to stop him in his tracks; the dark, cedar and amber smell that he recognized from his childhood. He’d stopped in the middle of one of the corridors when the General peered around the corner, stopping in place as well when he saw Anakin.
“Obi-Wan,” Anakin blurted out, the wine having obviously gone to his head for not referring to him by his formal title.
He pressed a few fingers to his forehead, a headache already brewing. Anakin stepped on his coat as he approached closer to the general.
“Tell me you remember me, I know you do,” Anakin breathed, heavily.
Obi-Wan looked around, careful to check if Padmé or anybody of the sort was nearby. He walked toward Anakin, soon enough only a few inches away from his face. Obi-Wan was always taller, in Anakin’s mind. He’d taken off his gloves since dinner, Anakin had to stop himself from staring at the General’s hands.
“I-“ Obi-Wan stopped, closed his mouth and looked down at his shoes. Anakin was careful to keep his breath soft and quiet at his apparent closeness. “I haven’t the faintest your highness, my greatest apologies.”
“I don’t believe you,” Anakin remarked, the disguise of angst and frustration fading at Obi-Wan’s closeness. In anger he’d pushed a hand up against the wall next to Obi-Wan’s face and cornered the General, close enough to feel the heat of his body. Anakin suddenly felt a pool of anxiety rise at the bottom of his stomach, as he realized how close he was to the general.
“My apologies gneral,” Anakin replied, backing away. quickly His leather shoes clicked on the hardwood floor in the obvious, painful silence they shared. “The wine must have gotten to my head.”
Obi-Wan curled his fingers into a fist and then uncurled them, Anakin watched painstakingly. The General walked towards Anakin’s direction but not to him, undoubtedly, to retire to his bedroom for the night.
“The apology is mine. Goodnight, Prince,” Obi-Wan said, finally.
However, as he walked away, Obi-Wan’s knuckles softly brushed Anakin’s hand. Anakin quietly gasped, feeling his stomach tie into a series of sailor’s knots. It had only been for a moment, a quiet, fleeting second where their hands were touching, but a moment, nonetheless. Ungloved, warm and rough.
He listened to Obi-Wan’s steps as he walked up the stairs and to his quarters, leaving Anakin alone in the sepia-tinted nighttime of the castle. He lifted his right hand, the one that Obi-Wan had brazenly touched and held it to his lips. And thought, perhaps, he had passed away and was doomed to an eternity of standing in the space where he had first touched Obi-Wan’s hand.
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The country of Tatooine on a late summer’s day was Anakin Skywalker’s favorite kind of afternoon. It was hot, warm enough for him to roam the castle grounds. He often did this alone, or with Poe. However, today was the exception. He walked the gilded hedge mazes with Padmé Amidala today.
The white sun bounced off her shiny hair like a reflection in water, she wore an orange dress that draped off her shoulders and down to her feet. Prettiest of all, he thought, were the small, golden rhinestones that glittered her eyelids.
Anakin thought she was beautiful; and she was the undeniable object of everyone’s affections had it not been for the quiet footsteps of General Kenobi.
The two had not spoken since their encounter after dinner. Anakin, in fact, had seldom even made eye contact with the young General. He couldn’t, lest he be burned into a pit of ashes at the mere flinch of Obi-Wan’s eyesight. For whatever reason, Anakin couldn’t breathe as long as he was in Obi-Wan’s presence. A man he’d not even known for all of one week.
Yet, he could not escape the memory of being eleven years old and a young, dashing Obi-Wan telling him about his training. From Anakin’s adolescence, the ever-persistent figure of a Knight in shining armor took the figure of a beautiful, blonde, Obi-Wan Kenobi. He couldn’t let himself revel in the fairy-tale of it all. There would be no happy ending. Not while the General persistently stood a solid five-foot distance from the prince, and not while he was engaged to the Princess of Naboo.
Anakin Skywalker did not know, however, the blip of danger he stood in on the sunniest day of the year. Anakin reached over to a rose bush, looking for a flower to give to Padmé. Danger, a man in the shadows, moved forward as Anakin found himself blissfully unaware, and his back seemingly unwatched.
He drew his bow and pointed it directly at Anakin.
“Prince!” Cried out Obi-Wan in desperation, as the General had spotted the man right as they’d shot a steel, sharp arrow in Anakin’s direction. Devoted to keeping him safe, Obi-Wan threw his body toward the young Prince, tackling him to the ground as the arrow shot right above them and into a neighboring tree.
Anakin looked up at Obi-Wan, his hands shaking in adrenaline. Obi-Wan had saved him, he’d been attacked.
“Th- thank you,” Anakin stuttered, finding it difficult to get a word out. Obi-Wan, who’d still had Anakin’s wrists pinned to the ground, looked back at the Prince, eyes fearful but relieved that Anakin was okay.
“Of course, my Lord,” Obi-Wan said, also finding it difficult to speak normally in the light of current events.
Though Anakin had only been inches away from a bloody, arrow-wrought death, the one persistent thought on his mind did not sit with the attacker.
His brain did not collect in fear over the fact that he’d almost just been killed, or if he was still in danger. Unfortunately, obviously, the ever-present object of his impervious thoughts was with how close Obi-Wan had been to his lips, and the fire-catching feeling of the General’s fingers holding tight to his skin.
#obikin fic#obikin fanfiction#anakin x obi wan#obikin#obikin royalty au#my writing#obikin fanfic#anibobi fic
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The Man
A Peaky Blinders imagine (reader insert)
Warnings: fighting, blood, bullet wounds, swearing, murder.
GIF is not mine!
Summary: Accidentally busting into a bar while trying to finish a job may not have been the smartest idea.
Pt.2
You knew they were on your trail, it was part of the plan. And it was going perfectly. What you didn't expect was for one them to be in a car, driving straight for you. Thinking fast you looked for some kind of cover. Seeing a pair double doors, you made a run for them and honestly in the moment you weren't thinking about who or what was on the other side.
Throwing the doors open and slamming them behind you, you rushed to the side and waited for the shadowy figures belonging to your targets to enter. It didn't take long which you were greatful for, means that you would get to go home sooner, the group of 3 men walked into the bar. Being behind them gave you an advantage, pulling out some piano wire you threw yourself onto the back of one them. He wasn't able to get his fingers underneath the wire making his death come quickly. The other two men turned around to the sounds of their partner yelling and as soon as the body hit the floor they pounced.
Ducking down from most their collective swings, you scrambled towards one of the tables, there was a bottle on it. Picking it up you turned and saw the bigger man of the two come towards you. Spinnig the bottle in your hand, you rose your brows and gestured your arms out in a 'come on and get me' kind of way. The man barrelled forward and threw a hard punch, hitting you in jaw, you staggered to the side and swung the bottle right onto the back of his bald head, he stumbled before you pulled the back of his collar exposing his chest where you plunged the broken end of the bottle into his right breast. You turned the two of you around and faced the other man, his eyes widened at the scene in front of him. Taking his moment of stun, you pushed the bald man forward into the arms of the smaller man, knocking him over with a loud thud as he hit the floor, this action obvisously drove the broken bottle further into the bald man which caused him to cry out in pain.
Neither man can move now, the smaller man started babbling while the bald one was crying. Pulling out the knife from your shoe you waltzed over to the stacked bodies. "We all know why this is your fate," Spitting out blood you continued, "stop making so much fucking noise."
Leaning over them you stabbed the knife into the smaller man's neck before grabbing the bald man's hand and telling him to hold it there, he was trying to fight agaisnt you but you could tell that he was getting weaker with every shift he made. "The more you move the more you bleed." He stopped moving, "You wont die from that bottle unless I want you to." The man started crying again. Grabbing one of the chairs closest to you, you sat down. "You throw a good punch by the way." His hand slipped off the knife's slick handle. "What did I say to do?" He finally tried to speak.
"Please let me go......how was I suppose to know?" Standing with a sigh you walked back over to the man and gently placed your hands on his neck. "Don't lie, you always knew." Snapping his neck quickly and straightening back up, you finally glanced around the room to assess the damage. 1 broken bottle, and some blood. 'Not too bad', you think to yourself. Turning back around to your chair you started to push it back in when the back door opened and footsteps caught your attention.
"The fuck happened here!?" A man with a mustache started yelling. "Buisness." Glancing up as you answered you noticed there was 4 of them. The man with the mustache, another with a cap on, the third had a ciggarette hanging out of mouth, and the last one had a baby face. With the adrenaline running out you started to feel the pain, looking down you saw your shirt soaked in blood. "Fuck...," looking back to the gaggle of men, who were still glaring at you, 3 of them even pulled out guns. "Look I'll pay for the bottle and the labour for the blood, I apologise for the mess too. Are you lot gonna tell the police?" Now their expressions changed looking st you as if you had multiple heads. "Police!? We're the fucking peaky blinders!" The man with the mustache yelled at you, cocking his gun, "and who the fuck are you!?"
"Nobody." Turning yourself toward the door, "The money will be here by first light." Hearing the other men cocking their guns you stopped and stared at the door in front of you, a different voice spoke out. "It is already first light, its actually 5 in the morning. We were told by some of our men that a group broke in here and were stupid enough to leave their car outside." Closing your eyes you sighed, 'well there goes my ride', you thought to yourself again. The men began talking to you again but you were thinking about how you were going to be leaving, 'Maybe I can still take the car, worst they could've done is fuck with the engine.' Smiling to yourself you turned back to the men.
"Look gentlemen, I dont know who the peaky blinders are. Never heard of you lot sadly, as for me don't worry about it. I'm just another man walking the streets, well not these ones but..." You looked back down and noticed another blood spot was slowly getting bigger, " I've got to get going now, I already got a few bullets in me so if you'll excuse me, you'll find me in the hospitial."
With that you turned and dashed through the door as bullets went flying around you for the 2nd time today It's something you've gotten used to over the years. With every step you took, the pain spiked. Gritting your teeth you hopped into the car and started it. The machine shook alive and you let out a little laugh.The men were now rushing out the door and aiming at the car, stepping on the gas you bolted down the road. Nothing was more exciting then driving a fast car.
"The fucker's getting away!" Arthur shouted, "What do you want us to do Arthur? Chase after the car?" Michael questioned his cousin. John lowered his gun and tried catching his breath, "Did you see the bodies in there? Something don't add up, one of them had a knife in his fucking throat." Tommy walked out of the Garrison doors, "Yeah and the one on top of him has a bottle in his chest. Then there's the one by the door, he's got a mark on his neck, wire looks like." Everyone was silent, mulling over the situation. "He said he'd be at the hospital, we should send someone over there." Michael looked to Tom, taking out another cigarette. "You know Michael that isn't a bad idea, we'll send Finn and Isaiah."
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Getting back to the apartment was easy. No one was up yet, it was 5 AM at the latest, the sun was just starting to peak through the horizon. Taking off your shirt you started unwrapping the binding on your chest, taking a deep breathe would've been nice but the bullet hole in your side reminded you it was still there. Grabbing your supplies and sitting on the bed, you got to work on removing the bullet, luckly it wasn't near any important parts. Biting down on some cloth you pulled the bullet out. "Fuck ,fuck, fuck, fuck!" Tossing the stupid thing on the floor you splashed some alcohol into the wound. Feeling a little woozy you grabbed the needle and thread, 'Come on YN youère almost done.' Stitching yourself up wasn't new but your hands still shake with every pass. The slash on your arm only needed a few stitches but the awkward angle was enough to give you trouble.
Spinning around you realized there wasn't any bandages left, throwing your head back with an audible "ugh" you stood and started to throw on a new shirt, careful not to bump anything and open it back up you threw a oversized coat on and a hat.
The air was cool which was nice on your flushed cheeks, cool air was always nice after a job, espiecally one that you walked away from with new wounds. You kept your head slightly down and collar popped, hiding your face. You knew this life wasn't easy but you knew nothing else, you grew up doing this, your whole life dedicated to this and everything associated with it. Your thoughts cleared when you came up to the hospitial. In and out. Grab bandages, and leave, simple.
Walking into the hospitial you saw nurses bustling about and doctors checking boards and holding conversation with each other. Good, people were busy. Watching one of the nurses walk down the hall and enter a door that said nurses only, you set your attentions there. Everybody glanced at you but with a simple tip of the hat and a "here to see the wife and babe" nobody questioned you, babies were always being born. You could hear some of them coming into the world, the cries of life. Not like the ones you were used to too.
Entering the room some murses looked up at you and some were about to start yelling but you were quicker. "Oh I'm so sorry everyone for being late, you know how it is." Laughing gently you took off the hat and shook out your chin length hair. "Excuse me but I dont think I've ever seen around before." One nurse spoke. Looking over to her while sliping off your coat, "Oh well pardon me, I'm Leanna. I've been sent over for a few days with a patient before we go back home, I'm his personal nurse." Most of the nurses ignored you and left to get on with work you presumed. "Which patient?" You went behind a curtain and changed into a nurses uniform, "Mr.Smith." You replied, Smith was a rather common name anywhere you went in Britain so it was a safe name to throw around. "Smith? I don't think I've heard of him sorry." Stepping out fully dressed you gave her a gently smile "It's quite alright we won't be here long. it was nice meeting you but I have to get going Mr.Smith gets upset when he doesn't recognize where he is." With that you left and walked the halls.
While looking for the supply closet you saw 2 boys dressed very similarly to the men from the pub walk in, you could hear them ask doctors and nurses of they've had a man in with bullet wounds. Of course they said no. But now there was a problem, while walking towards another section of the hospitial these two boys bumped into you, knocking you to the ground, and you felt a pop. Quickly standing back up, you ignored the hands trying to help you up. "Miss! Sorry! We weren't looking where we were going, you know we're trying to look for someone. Maybe you've seen them? A man who was shot-" "shot in the side." Tying your cardigan around your waist you looked up at the boys. One was lean, had freckles and curly hair, the other was a little more built (he did knock you down), smooth skin, and had dark hair. "It's alright, no I havent seen a man, now please excuse me." Keeping things short, you left and found the supplies closet.
You dressed your own wounds and stuck the rest of the bandages into the bust of the dress. Shifting the bust of the dress around you gave yourself the okay and left the closet. The boys were still in the same spot but now babyface and the cap wearing man had joined them. 'Shit.' Holding your head down you passed them again. " *whisle* thats one pretty girlie, oi nurse!" The capped man was catcalling you.....honestly could've be worse. Walking faster you made it back to the lockers, changing was nice until you noticed the smallest blood stain on the dress, "Oh for fucks sake." You held the dress in the crook of your elbow, now standing in the nurses locker room, dressed in mens clothing with coat pockets full of bandages and other supplies, holding a nures's dress, to make it even better a nurse walked in and was staring at you with wide eyes. 'fuck'
"Look miss my girl works here and she asked me to throw her uniform in the laundry here, you see there's some blood on it and she's in the bathroom right now, the blood it makes her dizzy, I-I I'll leave, oh Lord this is embarrassing." Lying came easy, sometimes you enjoyed it, every word created a story and here you were acting in it, you found it funny. 'No! No! It's quite alright you're just trying to be a good husband here lemme take it for you, you go see how she is alright." The nurse came over placing a hand on your arm and grabbed the uniform. "Thank you miss" You gave her a smile and left the room swiftly.
Leaving the hospitial was suppose to be as easy as getting into it but the tiny detail you forgot about was now you were in the same building as those men from the pub. Wanting to face plant into the ground and wanting to let put the biggest groan, you kept silent and your head on a swivel. Looking around every corner and down every hallway. Alas your efforts were futile when you rounded a corner and bumped into the same chest as earlier. You landed on the ground again and quickly pulled your hat down to cover the majority of your face. "Oi watch where your going." You nodded and stood up making sure not to make eye contact, side stepping around them you carried on your way when you heard, "Isaiah thats him!" Upon those words you ran, 'so much goddamn running.'
You weren't far from the entrance when some men stepped in front of the hospitals doors, wearing those stupid hats, 'you've got to be fucking kidding me'. Looking around you noticed a open window, you slowed down to a halt and stared at the men at the door, they slowky walked forward and you could hear the shoes hitting the floor in chase behind you. Throwing a smirk at the two at the door you dashed to the window and used your arms to send yourself out of it legs first. Sticking the landing you stood up and glanced into an alleyway and decided to take it, you could still hear the men running after you. Looking up at the walls around you, specifically at the windows again and these were barred. Perfect. Stopping in front of one you noticed how high it was, your arms weren't gonna be long enough. The slapping of shoes filled the alleyway, making up your mind in that moment, you decided on a run and jump. The first attempt didnt work, at all.
By now when you started the second attempt the men could see you easly scale the windows, then the fire escape, then they watched you jump onto the roof and disappear. "Now who in the fuck does that?" Isaiah looked back at the group of men. All of them were out of breath. "Yeah who the fuck is he? Why's he so important?" Finn looked at his older brother, "He broke into The Garrison and killed 3 blokes" John answered. Finn looked to the roof and laughed. "Fucking hell."
The group started their journey back to the betting shop but what they didn't know was that they were being followed by the 'man' on the roof. Granted jumping from roof to roof only worked so far before you had to get down, you watched them enter a building and recognized the area around you, it wasn't too far from the apartment, letting out a sigh you walked back 'home'. How were you going to leave this place now? Taking everything off you started yourself a bath. Seeing your reflection was weird, you were so used to being seen as a man by the outside world that when you did see the feminine parts of you it was like a surprise, a nice surprise cause you knew you were one badass lady. Taking off the bandage made you huff in annoyance, getting knocked over causing your stitches to pop open and then all that running and climbing, all that hard work just to be back at square one. Walking to your room you redid the stitches, not as shaky this time, then climbed into the bath.
It's at moments like these where you wished you had your beloved record player with you. Music is always able to help you calm down. You could say music was your only weakness.
You lounged there wondering when you should drop off that money, would they even want it? They didn't seem to enthustiastic about your offer. Whatever you promised, maybe you could deliver the new bottle...nope, knock and run away? Yeah that sounds alright.
The water was getting cold so you stood up and wrapped yourself in a towel and made your way to your room to grab the bandages from your coat after dressing yourself you noticed there was a whole in your coat, 'the windows', letting out another sigh you grabbed some wide cloth and binded your chest, then grabbed a shirt, trousers, your hat, and some cash, then headed to the nearest store to buy a bottle of whatever you could find. Seeing as your coat had a hole in it you couldn't help but stick your hand in and out of it as you walked, you even pulled at the frayed edges before you mentally yelled at yourself saying that you're only gonna make it worse. Shoving your hands into the pockets you walked into the first store, it looked like a general store, had a little bit of everything. Looking around the shelves you noticed they had a very small liqour selection and guessing by the dust on some of the bottles, they weren't very popular. You saw an older man with a white beard and mustache behind the counter, "Excuse me sir, what kind of drink is this?" Throwing a gesture towards the shelf with your head the man looked to the side at the bottles.
"You want to buy them?" He looked surprised. "Yes but only if you tell me what it is." You let out a small laugh. The older man chuckled, "Yes well, the ones in the front row are whiskey but everything behind them is rum." Rum? You haven't had rum in awhile. "I'll take two bottles of rum, the ones in the furthest back please." He turned and set them down in front of you. "Is that everything?" He asked with a raised brow, "No, do you sell coats by any chance? Or know of somewhere that does?" The older man was about to answer when a woman behind you spoke, "You can buy coats down the road now can you please hurry im in a rush." Turning towards the woman you noticed the short haircut, to the chin like yours, her eyes were a bright blue and she wore red lipstick, she was also wearing a fur coat. Once your gaze went back up to her face, she had a mischievous look on her face. "Are you finished? Thats a rather large hole in your coat, what happened?" Laughing to yourself, you turned back towards the man and placed 2 bills down. "keep the change." With that you left and hearing the older man yelling thank you as you left, put a smile on your face. You enjoyed making people happy.
The store selling coats was crowded, people were everywhere in there, some were customers, and others were employess with tape measures around their necks. A woman walked up to you when you steped through the door. "Hello! How may I help you?" You locked eyes with her and gave her your most charming smile, "I'm looking for a coat, mines got a hole in it." Showing her the whole she gasped. "My thats a rather large rip, well if you could follow me I can show you some im sure you'll like." She gently wrapped her arm around yours and took off down the racks of coats before stopping in front of a section with many black and navy coats. "So here we have some coats that match the colour and wear as the one you have on now." Going through a few you noticed one a little further down the racks. "What about this one?" Pulling out the dark forest green jacket, you turned to her and smiled, "Can I try this one on?" She stared at you for a moment.
"Yes of course you can sir though I do have to warn you it is one of our more expensive pieces." Taking off the jacket you had on and giving it to the lady, you swung the green fabric over your shoulders, your arm protested but you masked the pain. You looked over yourself and you were quite happy with how it looked on you. "I quite like it, miss I think I'll take this one." The woman started speaking fast, "but sir that jacket is very expensive, yes you look very handsome in it but-!" You walked over to her and grabbed her hands, "It's alright, but now I have to get it if I look so handsome in it." Winking at her, you let go of her hands and grabbed your old coat, pulling out some money. "Is this enough?" She glanced at the money in your hands and grabbed the bills, she refiled through them then handed back 2 bills. "There its yours." She smiled at you with flushed cheeks. Smiling back, you placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly, "thank you miss, have nice day." Her face got brighter as you walked away, you wished she kept the old coat but you needed to get the bottle of rum to the building before sundown.
You saw the woman from earlier walk out of another shop in front of you. Her arms carrying a box and a bag on top of it. You could hear the clicking of her heelings against the pavement, she was walking with purpose you decided, guess she was telling the truth about being in a hurry. Then you noticed the men, the men in caps,'they're everywhere'. The woman noticed them too. "If you're just gonna watch me all day atleast be helpful and bring this back to the house." She placed the box and bag into the arms of one of the men and kept on walking before entering a car.
You watched the car leave and felt jealous but kept on with your travel on foot. You walked towards your street and on the way you saw a small girl running in nothing but a dress. Watching with careful eyes you examined the path the girl was running in and saw a pump in the road, almost as you were about to call out she tripped and fell. Rushing over, you picked her up and sat her on your knee and brushed off her legs and arms of the gravel stuck to them. She had her face tucked into your neck as she cried, getting you wet with her tears. "Hey you're alright now, I've gotcha." You gently brushed the dirty and gravel off her injured knee. "Nothing more than a little scrape aye?" She looked down at her knee and sniffled, "It hurts." Rubbing her back you replied, "I know darling but you're a strong girl. You look tough now and once this little scrape heals you'll be good as new." She studied the side of your face as you were checking the rest of her legs for scrapes.
"You've got long hair mr." She was gently pulling on the strands poking out from under your hat, "It looks pretty." She giggled as the hair sprung back into place. "Why thank you, I must admit I only ever want my hair to look pretty." You wrapped your large coat over her small frame and tied the long ends in a knot. "There you can have my coat, now I know there's a hole in it but you can throw it when you get home, it's just something to keep you warm yeah?" She looked at you with big eyes "Yea!" "Now watch where you run." She nodded, hugged you and ran away. The sleeves of the coat covering her hands.
Laughing you turned back and continued the walk. When you finally reached your street you saw the car the woman left in, 'curiouser and curiouser', the car was parked in front of your rums destination. Standing next to the car you gently leaned against it and began to come up with your 'escape' plan. "So after almost a day of my men trying to find you, you end up on my door step." Spinning your head towards the alley and the voice, you made eye contact with the man from the pub, and just like when you first saw him, he was smoking. Looking back to the door you answered, "I was just going to leave the bottle and money and be on my mary way." You heard in let out a airy laugh. "Mary way? I didn't peg you as the type of man to go about things maryly especially after what I saw you do to those 3 in the bar." Looking up at the sky you sighed.
Still sitting on the car you tilted your upper half and placed one of the bottles of rum on the top of the car, then you held up some cash and placed the bottle on top of the pile. Holding up your own bottle of rum and stepped off the car, "I'll be on my mary way." Throwing him a small smile you walked past him. "This rum?" You spun back around to him and opened your bottle. "Yep." You gave the bottle a swig and let out a hum. "It's pretty good too." You tipped the bottle towards him, "Cheers." You spun back around and walked towards your aprtment.
Watching you walk to the apartments at the end of lane Tommy smirked and grabbed the rum. He opened the bottle and gave it a sniff and quickly scowled at it. He put the top back on the bottle and counted the money, eyes shooting up to your apartment again. Where the hell did you get this type of money?
"You alright Tom?" Turning towards his sister he placed the bottle of rum in her hand, "I'm fine Ada." Recognizing the bottle, Ada made eye contact with her brother. "Where'd you get this from?" Tom looked at the bottle then back at his sister, "why?" Ada shook her head. "It nothing I just saw a man earlier today buying a few bottles," she let out a laugh, "he was asking where to buy a new coat cause his had this giant tear in his." Thomas glanced down the lane again to the apartment building he watched you enter earlier.
"A man eh?"
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Aaaahhh it's been forever since I last wrote anything, truly am sorry, but! I have been craving to write for peaky blinders again (I honestly love that show and its universe) I had loads of fun writing this and I actually know where I want this story to go so please let me know if you want a part 2 or maybe I'll write a part 2 anyways cause I have many plans for it. Anyways enough of my rambling, I really hope you enjoyed this and thank you so much for reading! <3
#Peaky Blinders#peaky blinder imagine#peaky blinder fanfic#peaky blinders x reader#x reader#tommy shelby x reader#ada thorne x reader#finn shelby x reader#michael gray x reader#john shelby x reader#arthur shelby x ready#reader insert
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The Minors Lunch Club (MLC for short.)
This is a Valentines day one-shot for intruxx <3
Characters: Tommy, Ranboo, Sam, Tubbo
Catagory: Fluff
Words:2.1k
For a MCYT writing challenge, join the writer’s block discord here!
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It’s a very on-brand thing for Tommy to do- leave getting his friend a gift the day before Valentine’s day. He kept putting it off because he wasn’t sure what to get Ranboo. He has hybrid friends, but Tubbo was easy. He and Sam had taken a break from the hotel to make the boy a small bee necklace that he knew he’d love.
Endermen were a whole new category. What did enderman hybrids even like? He hadn’t talked to Ranboo much unlike Tubbo. So he was really at a loss for ideas. Are there items that are offensive to give an enderman? He hopes Sam will know. Otherwise, he’s going to have to ask Tubbo and he really doesn’t want to get laughed at.
Sam doesn’t laugh, even if Tommy knew the question was ridiculous. He wasn’t used to that.
“What do endermen like?” He’s gathering more wood for the hotel, Sam somewhere behind him.
“What are you setting up some kind of… enderman trap?”
He throws his axe down, splitting another log. Trying to keep his focus on his work, embarrassed to admit the truth to Sam.
“No- I don’t know what to get Ranboo for tomorrow. And I don’t think he’d appreciate me trapping his cousins.”
“Yeah you’re right, don’t tell him about Philza’s hardcore world then.” Tommy hears Sam shudder, his tail making a slight sound as it puffs out.
“Didn’t plan on it Big S.” Tommy laughs and cuts through another trunk.
“Just get him something he likes, we hybrids aren’t that different you know.”
“That’s the problem! I don’t know what he likes. We barely talk, but Tubbo went and invited the guy to our lunch and now I need to find him something.” He tosses the logs into their wheelbarrow and pushes it towards Sam’s pile to collect his as well.
“Okay then, get him a grass block or something. Better yet, let him pick. Y’know?”
“Your ideas are shit, Sam.” He hopes Sam can somehow hear a “thank you” in that insult. Because Tommy just got the best idea ever. “I’ll drop all this off, then I’m off to build something else. I’ll see you tonight yeah?”
“See you then, good luck with Ranboo. The only way you could mess this up is by giving him water so just- don’t do that.” The creeper hybrid goes back to the rest of the trees as Tommy pulls out his silk touch shovel and gets to work collecting grass blocks and a few other blocks just in case Ranboo likes variety.
He tucks his new blocks away into his inventory and goes towards the main path of the SMP.
With how far everything has gone, can he even call this the main path anymore?
He goes into the abandoned Walmart that Tommy for the life of him can’t remember who built it and starts arranging the mostly grass blocks into different piles and sections. Adding a small pile of sand and some smooth stone he mined with a silk touch pick for a little variety. He can’t have a store that only sold one thing, it was bad for the economy. He reasons.
Once he was finished he went to Sam’s house to find something to make for dinner. He and the creeper hybrid had a deal, he does dinners and Sam lets him stay in the spare room while the hotel is being built. Though he knows Sam doesn’t actually care if he does it, he just wants Tommy to feel like he’s earning his stay.
He appreciates it. He’ll never say it out loud but he appreciates all the little things Sam does for him. Maybe he’ll try being nicer to the man tomorrow.
Probably not.
He tears into his baked potato after wrapping Sam’s in some tin foil before running up the stairs to his room. Tomorrow he would drag a hopefully excited Ranboo to an abandoned Walmart and make the best second impression ever.
------------------------------------------------
Once he’s dressed and double-checks he has Tubbo’s gift in his inventory he pulls out his communicator to message Ranboo. Leaning against the front door.
You whisper to Ranboo: Hey, meet me outside Sam’s house, I want to show you something. :)
Ranboo whispers to you: Alright, I’ll be there by the time you read this message.
Tommy reads the message again, trying to understand what it meant when he hears a small vwhoop and jumps a bit when he looks up to see a slightly disoriented 6’6” enderman hybrid standing on his front porch surrounded by purple particles.
“I hate teleporting. But Philza says I need to do it more so here I am.”
Tommy regains his composure as Ranboo straightens out his suit that Tommy can only assume got ruffled in the process.
“You know, that whole teleporting thing would’ve been useful back when we were fighting for L’manberg.” Referring to L’manberg so lightly with anyone else would be impossible, but Ranboo’s absence from those days made it easier to joke about with. “What were you doing before you came here anyway?”
“I don’t remember.” Ranboo looks away, Tommy silently berates himself for asking. He really didn’t want Ranboo to hate him.
“That’s okay tall man! You’re here now and I’m stupid for asking.” He starts walking towards the Walmart hoping Ranboo would just follow.
He does. “You’re not stupid, most people would remember. I just have beef with memories y’know?”
“Beef with memories…? You’re gonna have to tell me about whatever that means later. But for now I gotta show you your gift.”
“My gift?”
Tommy stops and turns to him. “Your valentine’s day gift! I thought you knew, why else would you just teleport to me no questions asked?”
“I must’ve-”
“Forgotten. Right. It’s no big deal, but what I’m about to show you inside of this broken down Walmart is.” He takes Ranboo to the entrance which is just the 2x2 opening not surrounded by broken glass. “Welcome to the enderman store! I made it myself because I am just so cool.”
Ranboo immediately ducks under the doorway and starts moving the blocks around. “You aren’t very cool but this makes you at least 20% cooler.”
“Does that mean you like it?” Tommy asks as he goes to stand behind the makeshift counter.
“Of course I do! It’s like- like a block playground.” Ranboo teleports around the store and Tommy looks down because the sight of him appearing and disappearing was making his head hurt.
“You pick one yet?” He plants his elbow on the counter and tries to give his friend a good impression of an underpaid cashier.
“Pick one for what?”
“As your gift.” He says it like it was the most obvious thing in the world but with the way Ranboo stands confused he supposes it wasn’t. “I mean, the whole store is your gift actually. But you gotta like, pick your favorite block or something.”
“That’s kinda stupid.”
“Whatever, at least I’m not 6’6”, now pick your favorite grass block so we can go to Tubbo’s and show him how cool I am.”
“Okay, I like…” He carefully considers the dirt for what? Tommy doesn’t know. Maybe endermen have a block grading system.
He finally picks one of the many grass blocks in the corner and places it in front of Tommy.
Tommy uses his communicator as a scanner and pretends to ring up the block. Ranboo just seems even more confused.
“What? This is a store roleplay. I’m just keeping things realistic.” He pushes the grass block back to Ranboo who takes it and immediately holds it out in front of him. “The cost is teleporting Tommy to Tubbos because he’s lazy and doesn’t want to walk.”
The taller laughs and Tommy climbs over the counter and clings to Ranboo’s arm bracing for the sudden movement. He closes his eyes and stumbles forward a bit when the hybrid brings them to Tubbo’s in under a second.
He lets go of Ranboo once he’s sure he won’t trip and goes up to Tubbo’s door, instead of knocking he just let’s himself in. Rather he announces he’s here by shouting, “Big T! We’re here for lunch and I brought a very tall man with me. I think his name is Rainbow, not sure though.”
“Tommy it’s-” Ranboo is interrupted by Tubbo appearing from the kitchen, the fur coat he is usually buried in abandoned for a cheesy heart covered apron.
“Ranboo! Tommy!” He runs up to them both with excitement, but he quickly tilts his head at the grass block Ranboo had brought in that was no doubt ruining his floor. Tubbo runs back into the kitchen and orders the boys to, “Stay there!” and when he returns he is carrying a planter pot with a little note attached that says, “To: Ranboo, From: Me :)”
“This is perfect, you can fill my gift with… wait did Tommy really give you fuckin dirt?”
“No! I gave him a whole store of dirt you dickhead!”
“I liked it.” Ranboo adds, trying to help Tommy’s case.
“See Tubbo? He loves my gift, you are just a hater.”
“Whatever.” Tubbo rolls his eyes and turns around, leading the other two into his kitchen.
They take a seat and Tubbo places a basket of bread in the middle of the small wooden table. Tommy runs his hands under it to where he can feel the carvings of his and Tubbo’s name. They had built the table together, hell they had built most of the furniture in this house together.
Tubbo sits down next to Ranboo and places a jar of honey, no doubt from his own bees on the table.
“You know we should invite Purpled next time, then we can call it the MLC.”
“Call it the what?”
“Y’know the minor lunch club! All the teenagers in one place, hopefully shit-talking the adults.”
“Tubbo can you-” Ranboo is interrupted by Tubbo, who was focused on what Tommy just said.
“We are not naming anything ‘Lunch Club’ ever, pick another name.”
“What? Why not?” He whined.
Ranboo reaches over the table to grab the honey, knocking over the vase of flowers in the middle of the table. Tubbo pauses, he’s stood up, preparing to lean over and hit Tommy.
“Tubbo I’m so sorry I’ll-I’ll clean it up.” Ranboo starts to go grab a towel when Tubbo tackles him and pretends to be mad. Tommy just sighs at the scene and goes to actually grab a towel before the water could ruin the table.
“It’s valentine’s day and you’re fighting.”
“It’s play fighting, it's a hybrid thing you wouldn’t get it.”
Tubbo knew what he was doing, get Tommy mad so he’ll come over there and join them too.
It works, Tubbo giggling as Tommy pushes him off Ranboo and shakes him gently.
Tubbo headbutts him gently, careful not to actually hurt him. (It had happened once, Philza was not happy.)
Tommy wraps his arms around the deer and refuses to stop hugging him, Ranboo takes the opportunity to get up and actually wipe down the table before going back to where Tommy was sitting against the door laughing holding a faux annoyed Tubbo.
“Let me go Tommyyyy.” Tubbo whines, it’s muffled by the blond’s shirt.
“No, you were mean to me and now I’m sad.”
Ranboo sits down next to them and whispers “Clingyinnit.” causing Tubbo to laugh and Tommy to let him go opting to go mess with the enderman instead.
“I am not clingy!”
“He says, as he clings to Ranboo. His newest victim.”
They finally get up, dusting themselves off, and go to exchange the rest of their gifts. Tubbo giving Tommy earrings with two purple disks on them. Tommy hands him the bee necklace and then Ranboo gives both of them a pig spawner.
They go out and help Sam with the hotel for the rest of the day and when it’s dark outside they say their goodbyes and promise to come back tomorrow to see Tubbo’s new ‘project’ which the two no doubt means more nukes.
It’s almost midnight by the time Tommy works up the courage to give Sam his gift. Walking up to his bedroom door and knocking gently. Fiddling with the letter he had made. He had no reason to be nervous, it was just a card to thank Sam for everything. He owed the man so much more.
He had avoided giving Sam the card all day, but there was no turning back now. He supposes he could just run back to his room, pretend to be asleep when Sam goes to ask if he knocked.
“Tommy?” Sam opens the door, yawning. Tommy had clearly woken him up.
He shoves the card towards the creeper hybrid and looks away as he reads it.
Tommy can tell when he’s done because Sam murmurs an “Oh, Tommy…” before going to hug the blond. Who happily accepts it.
“Your gift idea wasn’t shit, he loved it actually.”
“I know, I never have bad ideas.” Tommy can imagine the grin on Sam’s face as he says that and it’s enough to make him laugh softly. For the first time in a long time, Tommy finally takes a deep breath. Holding onto Sam a little tighter than maybe he should. Tommy’s tired of letting go.
Neither of them ever want to let go.
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A/N: going into the DC side of things. except another leap for my writing as well as my brain. this came to be in the middle of the night bout 2am so i briefly jotted a few ideas on a piece of paper in the dark and now im doing this… i hope this brings joy in these dark times!
Pairing: Kate Kane x reader
sentance inspirations : “what's stopping you now?" “can you help me with my tie?” / “can you zip up my dress?”
tags: WARNING THIS IS INTENDED FOR MATURE AUDIENCES! THIS STORY FEATURES LESBIAN (GIRL ON GIRL) SEX, I REPEAT DO NOT READ IF UNDER THE AGE OF 18. I MEAN IT! DO NOT READ THIS STORY IF YOUR UNDERAGE! YOU WILL BE VIOLATING SOME LAWS IF YOU DO! NOW DONT DO IT!
summery: not freaking telling
Masterlist
several years ago, billionaire Bruce Wayne disappeared from Gotham City, the company struggled but when Lucius Fox got murdered his nephew Luke struggled to keep Wayne techs inner lights on.
one evening Kate Kane walked into the office of CEO Bruce Wayne her cousin. she was determined to continue the legacy he had left behind in one shape or form.
she stumbled upon her cousins biggest secret, the biggest legacy he had left behind. she found the Batcave. she discovered her cousin was Batman. now she continues the shadow of the Bat. she continues to strike fear into the criminal element of Gotham City.
you had gone off the grid shortly after Bruce did, you werent sure when or if you should return but 6 years later you did, just cause you figured things would have changed and you had heard about another bat being in gotham.
you wanted to know if Bruce had returned. of course you knew your boss’ deepest darkest secret, you were his co ceo and his secretary. you had to know these things.
the penthouse you had been living in before leaving gotham hadnt changed at all. after putting your stuff down and getting somewhat settled, you decided to go and see if your workplace had changed at all, you decided to go see if anything had changed with Wayne tech.
the exterior of wayne tech hadnt changed though there were fewer lights on inside, but you swiped your key card thinking that no one else would be here that you would be able to go upstairs without anyone realizing that you were here.
kate: “someone just used a key card and entered the building.” Luke: “what do we do?” Kate: “we need to find out who they are and how they have a key card. It looks like they are coming up here. So perfect we will be questioning them in no time.”
Luke: “why would we question someone who used a key card? wait what was the key card access number?”
Kate looked at the computer again…
Kate: “4789932. why do you ask?”
Luke: “dont interrogate the person coming out of the elevator was the last person to see Bruce before he disappeared. his secretary, YN.”
you exit the elevator at that moment to see Luke and Kate in the room. Kate’s eyes lock onto yours, her gaze piercing your soul, you had forgotten that you were standing in the office of your former boss.
Luke: “you YN right?”
YN: “who are you? and how did you get in here? this is sacred space.”
Kate steps in front of luke and comes close to you.
Kate: “no need to be hostile, im Kate Kane im Bruce’s cousin. the one he didnt really mention, when he disappeared i figured i would use this place as my home away from home. plus my buddy Luke here is the son of Lucius who i believe worked closely with you and Bruce before Bruce disappeared and before Lucius passed a year ago. when my cousin disappeared did you happen to…”
you interrupted Kate, you felt bad for doing so but you knew what she was gonna ask.
YN: “no he didnt mention anything to me about where he was going, he was just being Bruce. he told me he had to leave Gotham and wasnt sure if or when he would return. i left that same day when he and i had last talked. we had our final conversation and i got on the next flight out of gotham and spent the last few years trying to cope with having lost my job, the loss of my best friend, and the loss of my life.”
Kate: “how long have you been back in Gotham?”
You had to set yourself down in a chair cause now you were feeling the vibes and memories from being back in the office.
YN: “i got back only 4 hours ago. i live in the penthouse in the gotham plaza hotel a couple blocks away. but there are a ton of cars and everything everywhere whats going on?”
Kate looked at you and then remmbered that you hadnt been back in gotham very long.
Kate: “tonight is some sort of fancy ball type thing that the rich folk are throwing in honor of the crows security team that helps the gcpd protect gotham well only those who can afford it anyway. anyway my dad wants me to make an appearance and be there and such so i was wondering if your not busy would you consider coming with me…”
you were shocked this woman this woman who you had barely known for a total of half an hour was asking you on a date… and you of course had nothing to wear.
YN: “i would love to but i have nothing to wear.”
Kate: “we can solve that… Luke im taking the night off… and whatever you do dont contact me at all. im gonna show YN just how much has changed in this city and with its people. and rememebr to pick us up at the apartment at 6:30pm.”
Kate takes you to the elevator and down to the garage. you of course realized that she had a motor bike and that was a total turn on for you.
YN: “where are we gonna find me an outfit on such short notice.”
Kate: “there is a boutique near my place we will stop there on the way to getting me ready.”
you take the helmet that she hands you, you put it on and strap your small bag cross your body, and get on behind Kate. you hold on tight as she takes off out of the garage.
the feeling coursing through your veins right then was something you hadnt felt in a long time. in about 15 minutes you both arrived at a small boutique. it was super fancy, you remmber hitting alot of those types of store when you were bruce’s secretary.
Kate: “lets find you a dress…”
you and Kate walk into the boutique and smile as you both walk in not knowing what you wanted like detail wise for a dress. but Kate spoke up fairly calm.
Kate: “can i get some help to find this lovely woman a dress for the ball tonight?”
Helen comes around the corner and stands immediately in front of you and Kate.
Helen: “such a fluent canvas, let me guess you wear mostly bright colors, but look good in almost anything, dont really care for heals but will deal with wedges, spaghetti strap, built in bra, and has to have a slit in the front for easy walking but can deal if it doesnt. how did i do?”
YN: “you got it. how did you know?”
Helen: “darlin’ ive been at this a long time plus you are very easy to read… wait a moment you remind me of.. YN?”
you had to think now… you couldnt think straight in the first place cause of Kate but now you were faced with this lady who suddenly knew your name.
YN: “im sorry you seem to have me at a disadvantage. do i know you?”
Helen: “its me Helen, i was your tailor when Mr Wayne was still here. God rest his soul.”
you now knew who she was and she hugged you welcoming you back to Gotham as she took you to the rack where she happened to have a mermaid spaghetti strap in lilac and in your size.
she pulled it off the shelf and handed it to you. you held it up to your figure and she gave it the thumbs up as she went to grab you a shawl and a handbag as well as a pair of wedges which she took a guess on the size.
kate and you went back to her apartment and she helped you get comfortable before she went to go get ready for the ball. you started to take off what you currently were wearing, and then you slid into the dress. the satin lace combo gliding across your skin.
you didnt hear Kate who wanted your help with her tie come back as you finished pulling the up but couldnt reach the zipper.
Kate: “knock knock…”
YN: “i cant reach the zipper. Can you zip up my dress?”
Kate: “only if you help me. Can you help me with my tie?”
you nod.
YN: “deal. but who goes first?”
Kate: “come closer to me and turn around so i can do up the zipper.”
you turn around and move your hair out of habit. Kate’s hands move slowly along your back to the zipper but they trace every inch of your back before grasping the zipper.
YN: “can I ask you something?”
Kate: “of course.”
Yn: “did you have any contact with Bruce before he left that would indicate where he was going or why?”
Kate: “no but my cousin was strong willed, if he wanted to do something he most certainly did everything in his power to achieve whatever he was trying to do. Ugh the zipper is stuck, do not worry I have someone who is very eager to help in any way possible but while I Call her can you do my tie?”
Just as you turn around you hear the door open, Kate turns to defensive in front of you. Mary walks through the door.
Mary: “chill out sis it’s me!”
Kate: “thank God it’s you I hope you can help. Mary this is YN, YN this is My sister Mary. Mary can you fix YN’s zipper on her dress it is stuck even I couldn’t get it.”
Mary places her purse and her coat down and comes behind you. While you trace Kate’s form grasping hold of her tie. Mary goes to take a look at your zipper, she spends longer on the zipper then you do on kates tie.
You had this weird feeling, like she had a secret, like she was trying to tell you something and you werent quite picking up the signal.
Kate had one of her hands on your waist, she had every confidence that she had found her one in you. Course she had heard her cousin mention his fantastic secretary but she didnt think you would be this gorgeous. Mary after a while exclaims.
Mary: “i have an idea… stay right there dont move…”
mary left the room for a moment this left you and kate to further ponder your thougts. kate still had her hand on your waist, this sparked something within you that you had not felt in years.
Kate: “do you have anyone special in your life?”
YN: “ive been single every day for my entire life. cause before i left bruce and i shared secrets with eachother that we soon knew would go with us to our graves. kate, im a lesbian…”
Kate smiles and is about to speak when mary comes back into the room, she goes to the back of your dress and fiddles round for a few moments before standing straight and comes back to her bag and coat.
Mary: “all done i replaced the zipper pull, you will be fine ill fully replace the zipper before that dress is needed again. now both of you should go Luke will be here any moment. and im hitching a ride so hurry up both of you and finish getting reAdy.”
Kate and you finished getting ready, the sound of a car horn sounded. this pulled you and kate out of your own admirations and into a state of lets go present to the public.
you held kates hand this sent several shivers down your spine but in a good way. kate however knew what you felt but she knew she would have to tell you her secret after tonight if everything went her way.
kate: "so i hope that this isnt too forward but how do you think people at this party will react to seeing you at the party let alone back in gotham?"
yN: "dont worry bout it ill just exclaim that im back to stop running from the past. Exclaim that I can't and I shouldn't run forever! Even if I'm still scared."
kate: "what do you have to be scared of?"
yn: "my future, the company I worked for for so long went awol after lucius God rest his soul and now I return to meet the cousin of my former boss and the son of his best friend. Geez I'm overwhelmed!"
Kates hand on your own had you finding the strength to make it through the evening! Your only thoughts were of how how you and Kate looked.
Luke got out of the car and came round to open your door so kate and you as well as mary could exit the car. The press got one look at you beside kate and had a field day.
After pushing through the crowd, making it inside the gallary you realized that the security was tighter than usual.
YN: “when did security get beefed up?”
Kate: “since my father became the leader of a security company, they are called the Crows, they became a thing after Batman disappeared. lets avoid any and all contact with him while here, he wont entirely take kindly to me having a date at this gala.”
YN: “does he know that your...”
Kate: “yes he does but he doesnt entirely approve of it. but you know what screww what he thinks. im just happy to not be suffering this event alone.”
You smiled you knew that there was a small chance that kate had feelings for you as well. there was speeches, music, silent auction and dancing. this was what you and Kate spent some of your time doing. was dancing and placing tickets into the silent auctions.
You and Kate were standing by the bar during the next few speeches, doing a few shots and having several laughs.
Kate: "have you ever kissed a girl?"
YN: "not willingly... Poison ivy got me once but batman swooped in and saved me after I sucker punched him while he was trying to save me. But I guess kissed and put under a spell by a bad girl doesn't count."
Kate: "nope but it was a good try..."
before kate had a chance to finish er sentance her name was being called, this made both you and her turn toward the voice, this also made kate immediately chug the rest of her drink.
Jacob: "kate... didnt expect to see you here tonight."
kate: "thats cause i didnt mention that i was gonna be here. as i found out a few new things today but you dont need to know as long as you do what you do we can never be a proper family. trust me being gay is the best thing to ever happen to me. I swear I'm not gonna give up who I am just to make you proud of me. If you can't accept me for who I am then how are we supposed to be a family. "
Jacob: "Kate you made your choice years ago at the Acadamy you don't need to remind me that we are not and can never be a proper family. You and your lady friend enjoy the gala."
Jacob gives you the snake eye before walking away. You turn to Kate both of you now standing alot closer before. Then it was time for someone from Wayne tech to get up and speak.
You and Kate were the only ones who were able and willing to represent the company on the stage.
Kate: "Wayne tech was started by my aunt Martha and my uncle Thomas Wayne many many years ago. Then my cousin Bruce took over when he was old enough. 6 years ago my cousin disappeared, 3 years ago lucius fox was murdered, today I stand up here with YN who worked close along side lucius and Bruce for many years before Bruce disappeared. Under her leadership and the help of lucius fox's nephew Luke we have plans to reopen Wayne tech."
YN: "citizens of Gotham, what Kate says is true we have plans to reopen Wayne tech, we hope to bring good to our city, continuing on in the steps of my former boss and business partner Bruce, may he ever be remembered as we reopen and continue the business that was the foundation to Gothams Legacy for years before and will continue to be...”
before you could finish your speech the lights in the entire building went out. you and Kate stood close.
Kate: “stay close to me, this is not supposed to happen...”
a few moments later a single spotlight on the other side of the room reveals someone standing there...
Hush: “greetings gothamites, right now some of the crows are all standing on pressure plates that will explode the building if they move. so i want the little rat who is associated with Bruce wayne to come forth and face the punishment for trying to shine that light again.”
Kate and you make your way through the shadows and around the harmless civilians to a hidden panel in the wall. stepping inside this felt very familiar feeling of security.
Kate: “we all have our demons, some of our demons hide in the shadows, for this lunatic out there im one of his demons. YN you know Bruce’s secret now im trusting you with mine.”
YN; “ what are you talking about Kate i have to go out there and stand up to that monster and prove my worth.”
Kate: “and you will have your part to play in this but so will i...”
you watch as she emerges from shadws into some low lighting dressed as a bat...”
YN: “so you took after your cousin in that respect. i am so happy that you have trusted me with this secret. thank you for that.”
Kate: “all i want you to do is go out there and keep him talking distract him long enough for luke who can hear us right now to silently and remotely disarm the pressure plates. now go, ill be along shortly. i have to go a different way.”
you leave the hole in the wall, you walk out there and throw your voice from behind the people.
YN: “who are you and what the hell do you want with me?”
Hush: “why dont you come out and face me so i can see who you are!”
You go further and a spotlight shines on you.
Hush: "well well well, let's get this party started.. Starting with a pop quiz: in Wayne tech the last project that was announced to be in development was what?"
YN: "a new secure wing at arkham asylum."
Hush: "what made the plans for this project go off the rails?"
YN: "the disappearance of Bruce Wayne and the murder of lucius fox."
Hush: "and what project are you guys gonna start on with your start up?"
Yn: "why does it matter to you you dick? You are the one that is basically holding us for hostage... Now either release the innocent people and disarm the pressure plates or the gcpd will be crawling over this place in a matter of moments."
Hush: "now now little girl, you were Bruce Wayne's pet weren't you?"
YN: "I was his assistant and best friend."
Hush: "I knew him once, but he was much different then... I for one am glad he is gone, he was an arrogant ass..."
Kate came into view a few times, helping to set up the room so the people are safe, you keep ‘hush’ busy for a few moments. before you knew it all the innocents were in a safe location.
Hush approached you rapidly and began to get all up in your grill.
Hush: “why are you not afraid of me?”
YN: “cause ive seen things in my lifetime that would scare even a man with no heart such as yourself. so do your worse cause im counting on someone saving me very soon...”
Hush comes up and starts using his fingers to trace your body. that is when Kate decided it was time to make her presence known.
Batwoman: “hey ugly, take your hands off the lady...”
Hush turns to see Batwoman who you know is actually Kate standing behind him...
Hush: “why should i you silly little bat?”
Batwman: “cause in a number of moments the pressure plates will be disarmmed, the crows will be free and you will be going to arkham. now pick on someone your own size...”
Hush turned away from you immediately before turning to batwoman he chucked knives at her while you stood there and watched.. Kate caught your eye and winked, just like bruce used to do if he wanted to pull a reverse batarang catch combo.
Kate threw the batarang and it landed in your catch then with all your strength and force your threw that batarang at the back of hush’s head and he fell straight on his face.
batwoman: “alright commander the pressure plates have been disabled, make sure this animal sees justice. ill take the lady out of the building. have a good night commmander.”
kate comes up to you and grapples both of you out of the building. kate’s father called to make sure both of you were okay. you ended up at wayne tower with kate now she still is in costume.
Kate: “what fascination did my cousin have for bookcases...”
YN: “it is just his thing, back at wayne manor he had a bookcase a piano entrance and several other things, he finally choose the bookcase to make things easy for his quick escapes.”
Kate: "do you want to see the cave?"
YN: "I haven't been down there since before Bruce left... I would love to see it back up and running."
Kate's hand on your own leading you down into the cave made you smile as the stairwell seemed to get brighter like something glowing at the end of the tunnel.
Getting to the end of the tunnel there's a path lined with flame less tea lights.
Yn: "it's beautiful... I love these tea lights!"
Kate: "I have to be honest tonight I had a hard time keeping myself from letting my heart lead my actions. In the few short hours that I've known you, I've fallen in love with you. I had Luke and Mary set this up. As well as the bed in the center."
Kate says as she starts de suiting allowing you to roam around but mid way through de suiting her eyes couldn't leave your form.
Kate: "it took everything I had for will power not to make love to you right then and there and when we were dancing it took all my will power not to kiss you while dancing."
You turned to face Kate both of you facing eachother now.
Yn: "what's stopping you now?"
Mid way through de suiting Kate allowed her instincts to take over. she left her suit half off ran to you cupped your cheeks and kissed you. this was the kiss that felt like it had happened before, but of course it hadnt but it sure as hell felt amazing literally breath taking.
after 10 minutes both of you broke the kiss breathing heavily before kate spoke in heavy raspy breaths.
Kate (breathing heavily): “this might be more sexy if you help me finish getting out of my suit.”
YN (breathing heavily): “turn around and i will...”
Kate turns around, you place small seductive kisses trailing her neck, to her shoulder, down her spine earning small soft moans of approval from Kate. your hands moved to her wait and began to slide the suit from her waist down her legs you still leaving kisses ever couple seconds.
once the suit was off Kate threw it across the table in the corner, and took you closer to the bed as she started to use her hands once more to roam over your body, feeling every inch of it.
Kate: “you are still wearing far too much clothing... turn around time for me to help you get out of what you are wearing...”
YN: “i promise you that this is probably way less than you were wearing.”
Kate: “turn around for me..”
you turned around and smiled, kates hands on the back of your dress using the make shift pully for the zipper that mary had put on to undo the dress. but Kate kissed your neck earning soft moans from you.
Kate: “dont forget we are the future of wayne tech, and united we stand..”
YN: “you are so hot, i got all throat dryed and tongue tied when i first met you. i was shell shocked... but im damn well glad you were the one in the building.”
the fabric slid off your body on its own, all kate had to do was make sure you didnt trip over the dress. tossing that with the suit you are in the caressed embrace of Kate.
Kate: “so beautiful...”
you turn around lifting Kate’s tank top off her body. her hands making quick work to slide off her shorts. both of you now scooting onto the bed, Kate was on top of you quicker than you were fully laying down.
Kate: “now this is how love is supposed to be...”
Kate grinded her way onto you, pulling off 69 and just general pleasuring sensual acts. you both were screaming and moaning in pleasure.
Kate: “you know i dont think ive had this much passion in sex in a long time.”
YN: “i know what you mean and i am perfectly content staying right here for like ever...”
kate had been using a double strap on so it pleasured you both. she hadnt puled out or really stopped moving, you both were just laying in a way that you could have a conversation.
YN: “how did i get so lucky to end up with you?”
Kate: “no idea but it was probably the same thing that brought me to you. i love you...”
You cupped her cheeks making sure your noses were touching and that was how your night of perfect bliss continued with the strap on and the vigerous sexual positions and the oral sex you received from Kate.
After several hours of that you both fell asleep cuddled together in perfect harmony. Morning soon fell, the bat computer started its morning routine, the lights were still romantic.
In those moments things seemed simple, both of you had forgotten the horrific but wonderful time at the gala the night before.
Kate and you stirred at the same time, opening your eyes only to start grinding the strap on again, not alot of moving from where you were nor from under the covers.
You were still going at it moments later when Luke and Mary began to decend into the cave. Neither you nor Kate noticed as you were too pre occupied.
The bat computer spoke suddenly.
Computer: "sir Luke and lady Mary, madame Kate and mistress YN are still rolling in the sheets, they also just woke up shall I put up the protective shield?"
Mary: "yes please so we don't have to see anything.. But there is a question I have who installed those shield and why?"
Computer: "master Wayne did for his rendezvous with miss Kyle! Whenever they would happen. "
Luke: "did my father know? About Bruce and Selena?"
Computer: "oh yes everyone eventually knew cause they got engaged in secret. To show Gotham that Selina had truly changed her spots."
Luke and Mary were shocked they didnt think that someone would happen upon anything like that in the cave... though like they were about to see the shield would reveal as though nothing was on the other side of the wall...
Luke: "did bruce leave anything indicating where he was going or why he left?"
computer: "that information is classified except to those whose code names are on the inscription."
Mary: "is it safe to go down now?"
computer: "yes go on..."
meanwhile you and Kate were still engaged in the sensual arts. passion flowing gracefully from you both. neither of you noticing the shield nor hearing the voices from luke and mary, nor realizing that there was work to be done.
about an hour later you and kate were both finally satisfied. you both threw on the robes sitting near by and smiled happily walking out from behind the shield. only to be confronted with glares from Luke and Mary...
Luke: “glad you both could finally join us... oh by the way, great idea for starting wayne tech again that is a brilliant plan...”
Mary: “where are your formal wear so i can repair that zipper and whatever else needs on it...”
YN: “its on the couch over near the shield. just dont look back there it aint pretty.”
Kate smiled cause she could only imagine what kind of horrors they would see if they looked.
Kate: “did you find anything on that Hush character from the gala last night?”
Luke: “sadly no but i can say that whoever he is is extremely hard to place. plus there is no mention of anyone named Hush in Bruce’s files anywhere.”
YN: “so he is someone new thats okay cause i am the one that took down Poison ivy, that was one of the only missions i ever did with bruce i had my own suit and everything. Bruce taught me everything he knew. but in those moments ivy had no idea that i was the same girl she had tried to force to kill Batman. then i turned around and clipped her with a batarang to the back of the head and brought her ass to arkham. it was a glorious day. it was also the same day that Bruce told me he was leaving. or well that he was preparing too. he told me for what was coming neither of us should be in the city. so when he left i grabbed what few belongings i had and i left gotham and had been in Star City till yesterday.”
Kate went to mary who handed Kate something which peaked your curiousity, but you werent gonna pry you knew when the time was right Kate would do what her heart commanded.
~1 and a half years later... success had been accross yours and Kates features as you both were running sucessfully 3 businesses. the reopening of wayne tech had gone smoothly. then there was the real estate firm that Kate had been running before you got to gotham as well as a nightclub. a little excessive but its a welcome reprieve with a fully stocked bar. you and Kate were happily living in your penthouse together. you had left alot of it alone due to both of you missed Bruce and wanted him to be honored.~
Kate: “YN, did you put..”
YN: “top drawer in the middle cabinet, Kate did you...”
Kate: “its in your desk in the center drawer...”
you and Kate were functional working happy couple. this was to be the night of the wayne tech gala. you both had put one on as tghe grand reopening and now its a yearly thing. to showcase everything that is in development for the people of gotham.
Kate: “can you believe that its already been almost 2 years...”
YN: “can you believe that i never thought i would have ever been working for wayne tech again.”
kate: “can you believe that you are the most beautiful woman at this party.”
YN: “your not so bad yourself.”
Kate smiled as she came up behind you to help you do up your dress.
Kate: “do you think bruce would be proud of what we have done and are doing?”
YN: “i think whereever he is he is very proud of us... and even better he would be honored that we took this mantle and have upheld it for the good of the Wayne family legacy.”
thats when an intruder alert sounded. it was one of the silent alarms on the wayne manor property.
YN: “we should go as ourselves not in costume.”
Kate: “ill call Mary and Luke and have them stall for time at the gala. we will be there in plenty of time. but your right as usual.”
YN: “good thing we travel to impress.”
Kate: “we also travel combat ready... i get now why you always have slits in your dresses. lets go.”
Kate and you got onto Kates bike and drove off towards the detection. ah yes wayne manor now declared sacred land and only for family, it was unusual that someone would dare to venture onto the property.
upon arrival at the gate you and Kate parked and got off the bike leaving your helmets and hiding the valuables in the safe installed on the bike.
Kate: “keep your eyes open something isnt right.”
YN: “dont worry whatever it is we will make sure to handle this.”
Kate smiles and keeps you close while walking further onto the property. you remembered the last time you had been here before bruce left and disappeared.
Kate: “see anything yet?”
YN: “not yet... wait there is a light inside...”
you start running towards the house Kate follows in suit, you start going up the steps but stop as Kate comes up behind you and grabs your hand both of you walking up those stairs together.
Kate and you each opened one of the double doors, both of you walking inside the light seemingly brighter. you could hear rustling and creeking of floors. you and Kate wanted to charge in “guns” blazing but you were in civilian form not a good idea.
you both stop outside the door to the room, you hear a familiar voice. no it cant be...
Kate: “whoever that is, is going to be tried for trespassing...”
except you knew that voice... you knew who it was...
YN: “dont be rash babe, i recognize the voice.”
you open the door with Kate on your heels.
YN: “talia...”
the figure turns around and remves her hood.
Talia: “its been a long time YN. how have you been?”
YN: “to be fair its been a gong show... what with having just come back to gotham last night after being in star city for the last several years.”
Talia: “i guess it has been a long long time. whose your friend?”
Kate holds her hand towards talia and stands tall beside you.
Kate: “kate kane, im Bruce’s cousin. im as of 1 and a half years ago YN’s girlfriend.”
Talia shakes kates hand.
YN: “what are you doing here talia?”
Talia: “i mean no disrespect but something seemed wrong about Bruce disappearing. something felt wrong and if i can find out why it felt wrong then i can find out where Bruce disappeared to.”
YN: “keep us informed, we have an expo to get too.. we are so late...”
Kate: “if you wish there will be a ticket for you at the door Talia. it was very nice to meet you.”
Talia: “as it was to meet you Kate.”
You and Kate leave Talia to what she was doing and head back to the bike. Tears fell from your eyes thinking about Bruce and how proud he would be of both you and Kate.
Kate: "thinking about Bruce?"
YN: "I just wish he were here to see what we have accomplished. But let's get to the expo and reveal the plans for the developments that we have come up with."
Kate hands you your helmet before hse puts hers on as you both get back on the bike and head to the expo. Parking in the parking garage you make the notion that you both got dirt on your outfits.
Kate: "shit Mary is gonna kill us... She might have planned for something like this... Hold on let me..."
before kate could call Mary, mary rang Kate’s cell...
Kate: “Mary thank god its you listen YN and i had a little run in with some dirt both our outfits are no longer presentable do you have any spare outfits.”
Mary yells at luke and then speaks a moment.
mary: “meet me in the washrooms in the lobby... i will have them there shortly..”
you and Kate sneak your way through the corridors and head into the lobby washrooms. anxiously awaiting Mary’s arrival with your replacement outfits, you made sure that you kept a level head.
Kate: “you look a little tense love...”
YN: “i wanted this night to go smoooth and now we have to do a costume change only a few short moments before we have to be on stage for the toasts. this is not how this night was supposed to go...”
Kate: “not to worry, there is still plenty of time for things to go right.”
Mary walks in a while later, you look at Kate with anticipation for the way that you were hoping this night would go was not what it seemed.
Mary: okay whose first for their outfit change...
Kate: just give me the outfits Mary, you and Luke need to make sure no one comes in here for a few moments while we get changed... once we are changed ill knock on the door and you and come and collect the outfits.
Mary: that sounds do-able. just both of you hurry up people are asking for you, important people.
you and Kate were not sure who could be out there but you both were certain that this night was gonna be a rocking good time.
getting into your clean outfits you both realize that you both are wearing your costume colors. Kate knocks on the door once you both are presentable, mary walks in.
Mary: you both look spectacular!
Kate: ya in our costume colors what is going on?
Mary: luke developed a microchip to change anything into your costumes its like a portable solution. but these are just incase of any ruckass. which we are hoping there wont be but just in case here they are.
Kate: what if we just want to be normal for one night?
Mary reaches into the neckline of Kates shirt and your bra line on your dress and pulls out the microchips.
Mary: if you both change your minds i have the chips now go you both are due for your speech in a few moments.
you and kate go out of the washroom, arriving in the ballroom to be greeted by dignitaries and just in time to be called up on stage. politely excusing yourselves you both walk up on stage.
Kate: whats up gotham city. thank you all so much for coming out tonight. this year so far is really big and productive for the company. i cant believe its been almost 2 years since me and YN brought wayne tech back to life. if bruce wayne were here today, to see what we have done he would be very proud of everything we are doing to keep this legacy alive. the silent auction will run all night the winner will be contacted by telephone and by email. the prizes will be availble for drop off or pick up at wayne tech. now i am gonna turn the mic over to my business partner and girlfriend YN.
YN: thanks kate, so as you all have seen around the room are some of the plans to refurbish some of the wings at arkham as well as build a secure wing for those more deadly super criminals. our goal is to create a more secure enviroment as well as give the orderlies more space for any other crazies that may pop up or have to go to arkham thanks to the donations of you Gotham we almost have the funds to start the arkham asylum expansion project.
Kate: before we sign off for the evening i have something i would like to do. bare with me i have not put alot of thought into this but here it goes.
Kate turns to you taking your hand in her own.
Kate: Yn you and i have taken Wayne tech and brought it back from the dust and shadows like a phoenix in rebirth but tonight as we boht stand before all of gotham i have a question for you, this night at this gala i want to know. Will you YN marry me?
she then got down on one knee and held a ring box to you open to a rose gold entwined celtic knot band with a emerald cut stone in the center. your face went pretty fast from shock to a face of happy complete utter joy.
YN: yes!
was all you managed to squeak out. kate placed the ring on your finger and kissed you before holding both your hands up for the press to see the gripped shot of the engagement ring.
you were not sure what else would come out of your mouth. thats when luke stepped onto the stage with mary. both of them bringing you and kate some champagne.
mary: waiters are coming around with champagne will you all please join me in raising a toast to YN and Kate the best people for the right jobs at the right moments. we are honored to be in your debt. to YN and Kate.
the toast made, the congratulations flowed in, the press all over your engagement. even the crows offered congratulations.
~what happens now is a different story for a different time~
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63. “I need a place to stay.” PriceMarsh
Roughly 1 million years later (in fandom years), here it is.
CW for homophobia and implied domestic abuse.
---
When Chloe answers the door at 9pm on Christmas Eve, she isn’t expecting to see her girlfriend. She especially isn’t expecting to see her looking tear-stained and puffy-eyed in her best church clothes, soaked to the skin and carrying a hastily packed backpack.
“Kate! What’s wrong?” she asks, heart immediately hammering anxiously in her chest.
Kate barely manages to get the words out. “I need a place to stay.”
“O-of course, yeah.” Chloe holds the door open and steps back, ushering her inside. It’s too cold and rainy outside for Kate to be standing there without a heavy coat.
“I’m sorry,” Kate starts babbling as soon as she’s over the threshold. “I didn’t know where else to go; the dorms are closed until after New Years and--”
“Hey, hey,” Chloe says soothingly, pulling Kate gently into her arms. “I’m glad you came here. I just wasn’t expecting you, that’s all. But I’m glad you’re here. I missed you.”
Kate hiccups something between a laugh and a sob into Chloe’s shoulder as she hugs her back so hard that Chloe’s ribs ache. “I missed you, too,” she mumbles wetly.
“What’s going on?” David barks from the living room over the sound of the television. “Shut the damn door, girlie; you’re letting all the heat out!”
Chloe gives Kate an extra squeeze, feeling the way she tenses at David’s gruff voice. She kicks out one foot, pushing the door loudly shut.
“Who is it?” Joyce asks, poking her head out of the kitchen, her hands still dripping soap suds. Her eyebrows rise in concern when she sees the state that Kate is in. “Kate, darlin’!” she exclaims, leaving the kitchen and wiping off her hands on a dishcloth. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Madsen,” Kate says through a fresh wave of tears. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your family so close to Christmas. I’m sorry I didn’t call ahead; she took my phone.”
Chloe’s heart sinks down to her toes and her head starts buzzing numbly. Shit. She’s been dreading this moment ever since she and Kate started dating. “Your mom?”
Kate nods, looking heartbroken. She turns to Chloe. “I didn’t mean to tell her anything,” she says in an agonized rush. “It just slipped out. One of my cousins came out over Thanksgiving, and she was talking all about how he was going to hell and I just meant to defend him and… and… It just slipped out.” Kate’s mouth tightens into a pained snarl. “She was just so convinced that none of her perfect daughters could be ‘like that,’ so convinced it was something his parents did wrong and that he would go to hell, and I couldn’t let her. I couldn’t let her keep saying those things as if she wasn’t talking about her own daughter, too.”
“So she kicked you out,” Chloe says numbly.
Kate nods again, and Joyce’s frown deepens as she sweeps in to put her own arm around Kate’s shoulders. “Well, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like, Katie, darlin’. I’m sure your mother will come to her senses--” she glares at Chloe when Chloe snorts angrily “--eventually,” she continues determinedly, “but until then you just stay right here with us. Have you had supper?”
Kate shakes her head. “Th-thank you, Mrs. Madsen. I’m sorry to impose, I just didn’t know where else to go; the dorms are closed over break.”
“Never you mind; it’s no imposition. Chloe, would you set up a dinner plate for our guest?”
“Yeah, ‘course.” Chloe lets go of Kate and looks her up and down. She’s sopping wet and shivering. “You wanna grab a shower and warm up while I’m heating the leftovers? You can borrow some of my pjs if you need a change of clothes.”
“Thank you,” Kate says once again, pressing her cold lips gratefully against Chloe’s cheek as Joyce returns to the kitchen and starts bustling about in the refrigerator. “I managed to grab some things before she locked me out, but I don’t know if I’ve even got a complete outfit apart from what I’m wearing.”
Chloe scowls. “I can’t believe your dad let her do this. And on Christmas Eve; what the actual fuck.”
Kate shrugs sadly. “He tried to reason with her, but when she gets like this…” She sighs. “Maybe he’ll be able to talk her around, eventually. At least enough that I can go back and get the rest of my things.”
“He’d fucking better. And if he doesn’t, we’ll break in and take them back,” Chloe promises.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“Parents kicked you out, huh?” David says, suddenly looming in the doorway with a nearly empty beer bottle dangling from one hand. “That’s rough.”
“I… Yes, it is, Mr. Madsen.”
David nods contemplatively, eyes darting back and forth between Kate and Chloe, and Chloe wants to go over and smack his eyes shut. “Well. Sorry t’hear it. I s’pose we can fix up the couch for you ‘til the dorms reopen.”
It’s more than Chloe expected from him but less than Kate deserves. “Kate can stay in my room. We’re both adults.”
David’s expression sours. “Miss Marsh can stay on the couch,” he replies. “Your mother and I already tolerated enough shenanigans when that Amber girl used to stay over. This isn’t a bordello.”
Chloe’s anger flares and she steps forward to say something well-deserved but ill-advised, halted only by Kate’s gentle hand on her elbow. “I can sleep on the couch,” Kate says. “I don’t mind. I fell asleep on the bus ride here; the couch will be much more comfortable, I’m sure. Thank you, Mr. Madsen.”
Step-douche nods at that and disappears back into the living room like some vile ghost. Chloe wishes he’d fuck off and find some other house to haunt. Chloe’s distracted from her thoughts by the soft, cool press of Kate’s lips on the corner of her jaw. Kate slips her fingers into Chloe’s and gives them a squeeze. “I’m going to go shower and get changed. Maybe I’ll feel a bit more stable then. We can figure everything else out afterward, okay?”
“Okay,” Chloe says, turning to kiss Kate back, just a light peck at the edge of her lips. “I’ll heat up some food for you. We can talk it out once you’re warm and dry with a full stomach.”
Kate nods. “I’m probably going to cry a whole lot,” she warns. “I feel sort of numb right now, but I don’t know how long that’s going to last before I break down again.”
“I’ve got two good shoulders,” Chloe tells her. “You can cry on them all you need. I’ve got your back, Angel.”
Kate already looks a bit teary when she pulls Chloe in for a hug. “I should be calling you Angel. You’re the one saving my life here. I don’t know what I would have done tonight if I didn’t have you to run to.”
Kate wouldn’t have to run anywhere if it weren’t for Chloe, but Chloe knows that if she says that out loud Kate will only deny it, so she gives Kate a squeeze and sends her upstairs. Chloe busies herself in the kitchen, trying to focus on setting up the best dinner she can for her girlfriend rather than on the bottomless anger welling up inside of her.
“I just can’t imagine,” Joyce sighs. “And on Christmas Eve, no less! I thought you said they were Christians. What good Christian woman would throw her daughter out on Christmas Eve?”
Chloe shrugs because if she speaks she’ll only shout, and she doesn’t want Kate to hear her yelling and get upset.
Joyce stares at Chloe’s tight shoulders for a moment, her brow furrowed and jaw tensed in contemplation, and she gently takes the plate from Chloe’s hands and puts it into the microwave. “You know that I love you, Chloe. Don’t you?”
Chloe nods, feeling like she might cry or be sick or very possibly both. It isn’t fair. Kate’s the good one. Kate deserves a family that loves and protects her. She deserves better than her mother’s rejection, her father’s inadequacy, Chloe’s bony shoulders to cry on, David’s barely-there tolerance. She deserves the world, and Chloe doesn’t know how to give it to her.
“Oh, Chloe.” Joyce pulls her into a gentle hug, and Chloe’s upset enough that she lets her, sobbing wetly into her mother’s shoulder before she can stop herself. “Chloe, Chloe. We’ll take good care of that girl. She can stay here as long as it takes.”
“Step--”
“I’ll talk to David. Don’t you worry about anythin’, Darlin’.”
Chloe wants to say something cutting about why hasn’t Joyce ‘talked to David’ about not berating her constantly, not invading her privacy, not smacking her around whenever she talks back to him rather than take his shit. But she can hear the shower turning off upstairs and she doesn’t want to get them both kicked out on Christmas Eve with nowhere to go. “Thanks, mom,” she mumbles, wiping her eyes as she pulls out of the embrace. The microwave beeps and Chloe goes to check on the food.
Kate comes downstairs a few minutes later with damp hair hanging around her shoulders, wearing one of her own sleep shirts paired with a severely oversized pair of Chloe’s pajama pants. She’s rolled the cuffs several times and they still drag on the floor. She looks soft and sweet, and Chloe just wants to wrap her up in the protective warmth of her arms and keep her safe forever, never let her go. Chloe draws back the chair in front of Kate’s steaming dinner plate. “Hope you’re hungry. Joyce always makes enough food to feed the whole town around the holidays.”
Kate sits and picks up her fork, giving Chloe a bigger smile than Chloe would’ve expected considering how traumatizing Kate’s night has been so far. “You know, I wasn’t sure I would have an appetite at all, but I’m actually famished.” She scoops up a big dollop of mashed potatoes and gobbles it down, closing her eyes in bliss. Chloe has to smile. Kate really is just too cute. She reaches over and thumbs away a smudge of gravy at the corner of Kate’s mouth. “Your mom’s a really good cook.”
“When she has time, yeah. I, uh. I’m actually a pretty decent cook, too. Had to pick up some of her skillz when it was just the two of us and she was pulling doubles at the diner all the time, y’know?”
“Hmm, good to know.” Kate slowly sets down her fork. “You know… I keep thinking I should feel worse. I should feel worse, shouldn’t I?”
“Probably hasn’t sunk in yet.”
“Maybe. I keep thinking: I should be breaking down, my mother threw me out of the house, my sisters were crying, she’s going to tell them horrible things about me, my father failed to protect me… Most of my life is in that house. My phone, my computer, Alice. But all I can feel is relieved.”
“Relieved.”
Kate nods pensively. “Relieved, and grateful.” She shrugs. “My family knows now. There’s no big secrets left to hide from them. I can stop worrying about what’s going to happen when they find out, because it’s already happened. I can just be my complete self now and not have to worry that it’ll get back to them somehow.” She places her hand over Chloe’s and smiles softly at her. “And grateful because I have you. Because I have a place to go and a person to go to. So many people don’t have that, but I do, and I’m so, so grateful that it’s you.”
Chloe sniffs a little even though she’s not crying - she’s not - and shifts her hand to lock her fingers with Kate’s. “I’m the one who’s grateful for you. I… I wish I had a better place for you to go. Without���” She flails her free hand inarticulately. “Fuckin’ family drama. Without having to look over your damn shoulder in case Sergeant Dickhead’s getting his rage on.”
Kate squeezes Chloe’s hand. “Maybe… Maybe this can be a good thing. Maybe it can be an opportunity for both of us. I was thinking that when I graduate, I’ll want to move out of my parents’ place anyway, find an apartment of my own… I was, um. I was planning to ask if you wanted to join me.”
Chloe blinks rapidly, struggling to keep up. “Wait, like… Get an apartment together? Like, move in together?”
Kate nods shyly. “If you wanted. And now… Maybe it makes sense to start looking sooner. I don’t know if they’re going to keep paying for my dorm room now that I’ve been kicked out, and if they don’t… I mean, even if my dad is willing to keep paying for it, it’s probably better for me to get some distance.” She blushes. “If you want to, of course. It’s okay if you don’t; I didn’t mean to spring this on you so suddenly. I was going to work up to it, try to get a sense of what you wanted to do, if you even wanted to live with me--”
Chloe leans over and kisses Kate hard on the cheek to interrupt her spiral. “I’d love to.”
Kate lights up. “Really?”
“Really. Seriously. I can’t think of anything I’d like better. Our own place? Just you and me, able to decorate shit the way we want, to not have to lie or hide anything or walk on eggshells to keep from pissing off our parents?? Hella yes, I want that!”
“We probably won’t be able to afford anything too nice, and we’ll have to get jobs, but--”
“Fuck, I’m game if you are. I’ll wait tables at the fucking Two Whales if I have to.” Chloe shuts up so that Kate can kiss her. “You and me, Katydid.”
Kate rests her head on Chloe’s shoulder. “You and me. We’re going to make it work.”
“Hell yeah, we are.” Chloe presses another kiss into Kate’s wet hair, and she sits and holds Kate and, for the first time in years, looks forward to the future.
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Star-Crossed ⁕ Chapter 10
←Chapter 9 | Master list
"Concentrate, Harry” Hermione’s voice rang in the empty classroom as she tossed another book onto the wooden stool on the other side of the room from Harry.
The bespectacled boy let out a frustrated grunt, he said angrily “What do you think I’m trying to do, ‘Mione? But no, I’ve got the image of a great big dragon in my head – Okay, try again” He faltered at Hermione’s glare, sensing her impatience to deal with his sarcasm.
“Accio quill!” He tried once more, watching as the book flew halfway across the room towards him before dropping onto the floor.
“I have Arithmancy!” Hermione gasped as she glanced down her wrist watch in worry. She turned to look at Harry apologetically, “I would really love to stay and help you out, Harry but-”
“It’s alright” Harry replied with a reassuring smile. In an instant, the bushy-haired girl rushed out the classroom with her belongings, leaving Thalia and Harry in the room, “Aren’t you heading to you next class, Lia?”
“I’m not really looking forward to History of Magic” Thalia replied with a soft smile before directing her attention towards the book on the floor, flicking her wand towards it making it vanish, reappearing back onto the stool.
“So how are you and Fred?” Harry casually, deciding he needed a break before he goes back to attempting to summon the book.
“We’re... alright, I guess? We talked briefly today, he told me he trusts me but that’s about it” Thalia shrugged, fiddling with her wand in her hands, “I really don’t feel like talking to him more, though. Especially since I haven’t gotten a proper apology”
“That’s a bummer, from what I’ve seen in the World Cup, you would’ve been a perfect couple”
Thalia scoffed, “If Fred only knew how to get his big head out of his ass, right?”
This brought Harry to laugh, shaking his head towards the older girl who remained smiling, “How about you try it again, Harry? And I’ll go get us some snacks in the kitchen for us?”
“That’d be brilliant, Lia”
˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚
“So, how’d it go?” Hermione asked, joining them once again in the empty classroom which Professor McGonagall graciously lent to them for the night. The three had been switching up their schedules to accommodate helping Harry. Though for the most part, Thalia had been the one patient enough to really teach him.
By the time Hermione had returned, it was near midnight.
“Well, the good news is that Harry had managed to summon the object...” Thalia trailed off, watching Hermione’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.
“And the bad news?”
“They may have been hitting me in the face the entire time” replied Harry.
The three continued until they were sure Harry got the hang of it, because if he’d ever need to do this tomorrow, he’d have to summon his broom directly from inside the castle rather than just a few feet ahead of him.
Finally, by one in the morning, the three retreated to the Gryffindor common room, switching using a couch pillow perched at the bottom of the dormitory steps with Harry in the other side of the room near the portrait hole.
It was at 2AM when Harry finally got the hang of it, tossing a heavy book back towards Thalia, who caught it with ease, and directing his wand at it, “Accio dictionary!”
The dictionary was quick to dart out of Thalia’s hand, flying straight into Harry’s awaiting ones before it could hit him straight in the face again.
“Atta boy, Harry!” Thalia cheered, rushing towards Harry and Hermione who were both celebrating. “Now you’re ready”
“I just have to make it work tomorrow” said Harry, “The Firebolt’s going to be much further away and...”
“It’ll work Harry” Thalia reassured, wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulder to pull him towards her, “Don’t let your nerves get to you, yeah? You should go and get some sleep now, you’ll need a lot of energy tomorrow for the First Task”
“No, it’s fine I’ll help you clean up” He motioned towards the common room where items were scattered all over the floor and the furniture.
“We got it, Harry” It was Hermione who spoke this time, “Lia’s right, you need to rest”
“Are you sure?”
“More than”
˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚
Breakfast in the Great Hall was full of excitement as the day of the First Task arrived. The students of the three schools were all buzzing in joy as they exchanged their theories about what they expected, and some – Thalia could see – were already placing their bets on the first champion to be declared the winner.
However, among the crowd were the champions. And while three of them talked excitedly among their friends and countless of students who approached them to wished them luck, Harry was in a far different state.
“Harry you look dreadful”, Thalia dares say as she watched him sit across from her, hair ruffled more than usual. There were bags underneath his eyes indicating his lack of sleep, and a paleness noticeable in his lips from the nerves.
Leo, who had been sitting in the Slytherin table waiting for Thalia to arrive, swung his legs over the bench to join Thalia, bumping shoulders with her in greeting, accompanying it with a smile. Upon looking at Harry, though, his smile faltered.
“You alright there?” Leo asked Harry, who was pushing his breakfast around with a fork.
“Yeah” Harry replied softly, “Just nervous”
“Well, I can assure you, you’re in a much better condition that Viktor had been last night” At the mention of the name, the three turned towards Viktor Krum, who was talking to fellow Durmstrang students and a couple of Slytherins in their table. Thalia noticed he did have the same tired eyes as Harry, and flushed cheeks, “He was a wreck, regretting that he even dropped his name into the fire”
“Are we talking about Potter regretting dropping his name into the fire?” Draco interjected the trio, peering over their shoulders to allow himself into the conversation.
“Don’t you have any other people to annoy, dear cousin?” Thalia said with a roll of her eyes, pushing Draco away from their table.
The blonde didn’t even budge from his position, his smirk growing deeper especially at the sight of Leo’s hand casually placed on top of Thalia’s. But that’s not what’s on his mind today – no, today he wants to aggravate Potter.
“I bet you Potter will only last a minute in the tournament” He stated boastfully, staring at Harry who didn’t pay him any mind.
“Sometimes I wonder if you really don’t have it in your system to shut up, dear asshole cousin”
Draco’s smirk dropped, “I don’t understand why you’re always so mean to me”
“Try stop being a prick to others, maybe I’ll explain it to you” Thalia smiled teasingly at her cousin, who – although knowing she was not kidding – smiled at her. With one last glare towards Harry, he left the table, leaving them to return to the conversation.
“Just remember what we practice last night, Harry” Hermione piped in, ceasing her conversation with Ginny to look at the boy, who still hasn’t eaten from his plate, “and fill up, will you?”
“You’ll need it” You added, urging Harry to take a bite of his food. They accompanied him as he tried to finish his meal, talking about anything other than the task to distract him... which didn’t work since Professor McGonagall approached him, telling him to get ready for the First task.
“I hope he doesn’t get the Hungarian Horntail” Ron spoke when Harry had left, his eyes following his friend as he left the Great Hall.
Thalia placed her fork down, throwing a confused look towards Ron, “They brought a Horntail?”
“Well, Charlie said-”
“And Charlie’s here?” Thalia threw her hands up in exasperation, “Merlin, of all the dragons he had to bring – I seriously need a talk with your brother”
“You can come see him with us later” Ginny offered, saving Ron from your frustration, “We’ll see him off after the first task. I’m sure he’d want to see you too”
“Brilliant”
Cheers filled the Gryffindor Table after that, as Professor Dumbledore urged the students out the Great Hall, instructing them to gather in the Quidditch Pitch for the First Task. By the time everyone had arrived, the pitch was much more crowded than before, everyone almost shoulder to shoulder in the small area. Despite the flood of people though, it’s still heavily cold that Thalia regretted not dressing warmer – as usual.
“You cold?” Leo asked, looking down at Thalia who had pulled her sleeves down to cover her freezing hands.
Thalia smiled sheepishly in response, eyes widening when she realized Leo was making a move to remove his scarf.
“It’s alright” Her hand on his forearm stopped him, “I can take it”
“Nonsense” Leo laughed, already wrapping his scarf around her neck before she could protest any further, “It’s much colder back in Durmstrang; plus, our coats do wonders in the cold”
“Are you sure?” Thaila asked, watching as Leo adjusted the collar of his coat to hide his neck – which actually looked quite warm.
“Positive”
˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚
Nerves filled Thalia’s system as Harry emerged from the champions’ tent, his wand gripped tightly in his hand as his eyes searched through the crowd. Cheers erupted from the Gryffindor section, all waving their personalized banners and flags in support for Harry.
The Hungarian Horntail Harry had so-unluckily picked was circling the golden egg perched in the middle of the field, its eyes watching Harry cautiously, ready to attack at any sudden movement.
Harry was careful though, maintaining his distance from the dragon as he raised his wand, summoning his broom with an “Accio Firebolt!”
It was quiet for a moment, the crowd waiting for anything to happen because Harry had been the only one to use anything other than his wand – the others readily attacking the poor dragons with magic.
Thalia waited in her seat; her hands unknowingly clenched beside her as she prayed the bloody broom would show up now. That’s when a buzzing sound filled the air.
Everything happened so fast Thalia didn’t even get to process it. One moment, Harry had been standing on a boulder, the next he had mounted his broom, flying into the field as he strategized for a way to grab the egg harmlessly. Everyone was screaming by then, including Ludo Bagman who was bouncing on his seat in excitement.
“Wowee, the kid could fly!” He exclaimed, voice echoing in the large expanse of the field, “Do you see this, Mr. Krum?”
Thalia watched as Harry rounded the dragon, missing the heat of its flames by mere inches as he flew higher and higher. The dragon was having trouble catching up, its chains binding it to the floor making its attempts at flying after Harry almost useless.
Until the chains broke.
Harry was quick enough to dodge the dragon as it went after him, following him as he fled from the field and into the open area surrounding Hogwarts. From the stands, Thalia could see Charlie talking amongst his fellow dragon trailers, his face holding panic as he looked up and searched the air for any sign of Harry coming back.
However, it was Thalia who had caught his sight, watching him disapprovingly which made him smile. He sent a cheeky wave over in their direction – sending a flying kiss towards his brothers who gave him the middle finger back – before mounting his own broom. With one last teasing smile towards Thalia, he raced after Harry and the dragon, disappearing from the field as well.
“Fuckin’ hell” Thalia breathed out as she turned towards Fred, George, and Ginny, all situated on the seats above hers. “You Weasleys are going to be the death of me”
˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚
“Merlin, woman!” Charlie whined, rubbing the back of his head with a wince, “Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners – I've already gotten an earful from mum, I didn’t expect to get one from you, plus a hit in the back of the head!”
“Well, that’s your fault for bringing a bloody Hungarian Horntail to this tournament!” Thalia countered, crossing her arms over her chest as she glared up at Charlie.
“It’s well-trained, Lia” Charlie stated proudly, a smirk on his lips, “I trained them”
“Oh, so that is why they’re so freaking grumpy”
A grin replaced Charlie’s smirk, and before Thalia knew it, she was pulled her into a hug by the older Weasley, immediately calming her down, “You worry too much, Lia” He pulled away to keep her at arm’s length, studying her face as he reached up to thumb in between her eyebrows, “You’re too young to worry about all of these”
“’Fraid not, Charles” She swatted his hand away, pulling away from the embrace.
The rest of the Weasleys have left to return to the Gryffindor Tower, not wanting to miss the small celebration they’ve prepared for Harry in the common room. Thalia was less than enthusiastic to join them though, opting to stay and catch with Charlie a bit longer.
“I heard what happened between you and Fred” He said softly, cautiously approaching the topic that seemed far too sensitive – and fresh – at the moment, “I’m really sorry for his behavior, Lia”
“It’s not your place to apologize, Charlie” Thalia forced a smile, “It’s... it’s between the two of us... and as much as I love you guys, I really don’t want anyone else involved or taking sides”
“I know” Charlie sighed, “if it helps, Bill and I have talked to Fred already. He seemed very guilty for what he did”
Thalia remained silent, not having enough strength to deal with all of this right now. So, she simply sighed, sending a weak smile towards Charlie who stood in front of her, waiting for a response. “It’s great to see you again though, Charlie”
“As it is always a pleasure to see you” Charlie grinned. “Let’s not pretend I won’t spend the last few minutes teasing you about whoever Durmstrang that scarf belongs to”
“Charlie!”
“Alright, alright!” He laughed, throwing his hands up in surrender “So how’s school?”
“Really?”
“Well, you didn’t want me to ask!”
Master list | Chapter 11→
Taglist:
@elf-punk @bloodorangemoonlight @peachesandpinks @levylovegood @marvelettesassemble
#fred weasley#fred weasley imagine#fred weasley x oc#fred weasley imagines#george weasley#george weasley imagine#george weasley imagines#george weasley x oc#harry potter#harry potter imagine#harry potter imagines#harry potter x oc
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Heey can you do 40 (exes) for phrack?
Oh Anonymous... this went in a direction I don’t think either of us expected. 😂Hope you enjoy it anyway and thank you for the prompt!
For the prompt, “exes meeting again after not speaking for years au”
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There is a space, on the handlebar of Jack’s new bike, that is just wide enough, and just flat enough, to seat a person while it is in motion.
That is her spot.
Together they ride through the uncharted wilds of North Richmond, the jungles of Fitzroy, the shorelines of St. Kilda. And when he is with her, Jack feels like a true adventurer, a pirate of legend, an explorer of old.
(He isn’t sure who is the captain and who is the first mate, but he suspects they are trading roles with every voyage. He is surprisingly comfortable with this.)
She does a good job of holding on without impeding his view, but sometimes, on the really tight corners, he has to lean forward, his face precariously close to her breasts, so he can see where they’re going.
One those days he makes sure to thank Great Uncle Ted in his prayers.
Well, Uncle Ted and the ice cream man who wouldn’t take her IOU.
Jack had stepped in, offered to pay. She’d declined, told him she didn’t require assistance. He’d then suggested her could see her home, if she wanted, and one look at his bike had her accepting that proposal.
Six months later they spend all their spare time together.
They are an odd pair, from the outside. He’s relaxed, scholarly, funny, sweet. She’s skittish, shrewd, sarcastic, restless. He loves school and thinking about the future. She’s brilliant, but not studious, and can’t plan past the next hour. He’s respectful, she’s defiant. He laughs easily, and she doesn't, but when she does… oh when she does it is earned. He’s from a large, loving family who he speaks of often, but doesn’t even know if she has relations other than a cousin she mentions with a kind smile. He is an open book. She’s never even told him her surname.
But they share a wicked sense of humour, care about the same causes, are both explorers at heart.
They see each other.
His mates think her wild, but she’s not. What she really is is unconstrained, and the distinction may be lost on his friends but to Jack it is everything.
She is everything.
He thinks he might love her but he’s both too juvenile and too precocious to commit to the term. He doesn’t even know if he’s her only… friend. But he would gladly be her boyfriend, her proper boyfriend, if she’d let him.
Not that they’re always proper. He doesn’t lose his virginity to her, but he comes awfully close.
He is just working up the nerve to ask her to make it official when she tells him she is going away. She is only 16 but there are many more years of sadness in her eyes as she says it.
“Where?”
“Europe,” she tells him, but doesn’t elaborate.
He feels like he’s been sucker punched by an entire continent.
“Maybe I’ll see you there,” he manages through the hurt. “I’ve been thinking of enlisting.”
They meet one more time after that, and he gives her a gift. Something he’s been holding onto for a while.
“I can’t take this,” she tells him, knowing its value instinctively.
“You must,” he replies. “How else will you get away with it?”
“With what?”
“Everything.”
She laughs, truly laughs, and then she cries and he holds her and kisses her goodbye.
The poets make this part seem much more noble.
“Will you… do you think you’ll write? I’d like it very much if you did.” It is murmured into her hair, but she doesn’t answer. He knows she doesn’t make promises she can’t keep, but in this case...
“Just one then,” he negotiates. “When you arrive. So I know you’re safe and alright.”
“Jack… I’m not.”
He doesn’t know what to say to that so he just holds her tighter, and eventually she leaves.
His handlebars always feel empty after that.
The world has changed, though, and he feels duty bound to change with it.
He enlists, asking his parents to please pass along word if he receives any letters from Europe.
He doesn’t.
---------------------
The years pass, eventful and mundane, and he never hears from her. Assumes he never will. So when he next lays eyes on her, two decades later and at a crime scene no less, it is a shock to all his senses.
He is trying to keep up as she spins her theories like spiderwebs around the room, but in the end he is just caught in them himself.
She plays the whole thing so coy he’s not even sure she knows who he is.
The idea hurts more than he thought it would.
Still, it would be understandable; Jack feels like several lifetimes have passed in the intervening years.
He eventually finds his footing though, manages to evict her from the room and avoid her as much as possible after that. Calls her Miss Fisher to maintain distance and propriety despite the fact that he once had his hand clumsily up her skirt in the middle of the Fitzroy Gardens.
And then the case is over and good thing too because he’s not sure his nerves can handle much more of this.
When she announces her new occupation he actually spits out his champagne.
He goes to see her in her hotel room that evening, not even caring if she remembers him or not.
She answers the door with a smile and welcomes him inside. As he’s removing his hat, she leans back against the door and crosses her arms.
“You know you used to throw pebbles against my window. I don’t know what to do with this knocking on the door nonsense.”
Oh. So she does remember.
He shrugs without turning to face her. “You’re staying on the top floor,” he reminds her. “And my arm is 20 years older.”
She laughs, easily he realizes with a twinge of something he can’t quite name, and asks him to remove his coat and have a seat.
He does, but keeps his coat on; some situations require armor.
She sits across from him and he gives her a nervous smile. “So…” he begins, uncertain how to actually begin.
“It’s been a while,” she says, saving him a little, and he barks out a laugh.
“Yes,” he agrees.
“It’s good to see you,” she says, and he can see she means it.
“It is. I’ve often… I wondered how you were. I’m glad you’re…” He huffs out a sigh, annoyed at his own tied tongue. He feels seventeen again and not in a good way. “You seem well,” he finally settles on.
“I am. As do you. A Senior Detective Inspector. Impressive.”
“Uh, yes. Yes. Thank you.”
“And useful.” She gives him a gleeful grin, and that look hasn’t changed since they were teenagers. “Looks like we’ll be working together.”
“Yes, about that.” Beguiling smile or not, this is his opening and he has something to say. “Have you thought this through, Phryne?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you don’t have the best track recording for sticking with things.”
“Excuse me?” She seems piqued and he rushes to continue.
“You’re… don’t get me wrong, I know it seems fun. And you always did like a lark. But crime — victims of crimes — they’re not just a distraction.”
She fixes him with a serious look. “And I would never treat them as such.”
“Oh come off it. You’re flighty. Which is fine. Charming even. But this line of work… this isn’t another book you’ll never finish or scarf you’ll never complete. I know you and — ”
“You do not.”
Now it is his turn to be affronted. “Excuse me?”
“You barely knew me at sixteen. You do not know me now. And I’ve really outgrown lectures from men on who I am and who I am not.”
She stands up and walks over to the door, opening it and making it clear he is no longer welcome in her residence. He nods and puts his hat back on. As he passes her he gives her one more long look and that’s when he really sees it. The change in her. The skittishness is gone, replaced with pure resolve.
He leaves, assuming, once more, he’s unlikely to see her again.
And then he gets a call from an irate local sergeant.
He tells himself her involvement is not the reason for his, and for a while he even believes it. He certainly has no plans to use her, except this kid is being so recalcitrant and has obviously been through the ringer and he remembers this one time back in Collingwood, when they came across a lost little boy and Phryne had been so gentle with him. She’d known exactly what to say to calm him and he figures what the hell, maybe she’s still got the magic touch.
What she actually has is a car she uses to kidnap the victim's daughter and one of his suspects.
But when he goes to welfare, and speaks on her behalf, it is with the memories of both that lost little boy and Jane’s smiling face in Phryne’s kitchen.
He gives up on avoiding her. It isn’t worth the effort or bromo-seltzer.
Her intervening years are revealed to him in bits and pieces, and he responds in kind. An ambulance driver and a digger. A pilot and a picketer. Still single and still a marriage.
When he sees her portrait, the first thing he comments on is her hair.
“You still had it long then.” He’d always liked it long.
“Mmmm. Sometimes I miss it.”
He looks up at her and offers a small smile. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think this suits you now.”
When he finds out about her sister, he’s devastated. So many puzzle pieces fall into place, so many odd moments from their time together then that make sense now.
He wishes she’d told him, of course, but he understands why she didn’t. All he can do is be here for her now.
And when she reaches for his hand at the grave, he is.
All in all, he is genuinely enjoying their time together. Thinks she is too. It gets a little more complicated after his divorce, but it’s mostly just innocent flirting. He remembers that from the early days of their first acquaintance and relishs it just as much this time around.
Until she goes too far. Withholds evidence, shields a murderer, lies to him. He’s had it and he tells her as much.
He semi-apologizes, admits he’s giving her up. Hopes she doesn’t cry.
She doesn’t.
“You’re not sorry, you’re a coward,” she accuses.
The words sting and he lashes out in kind. “Why, because I don’t let you get away with everything anymore?”
She glares at him. “I don’t need your protection, Jack. I’m not a child!”
“Well you could have fooled me. This is suddenly feeling very familiar.”
“Stop it. This isn’t the same at all.”
“Of course not; this time I’m the one leaving.”
“And ask yourself just why that is. This isn’t about a stocking or a car crash. You look at me and you see all the possibilities of your youth and you’re angry because you just had to confront losing them for a second time.”
It’s an astute observation, but not quite accurate. Doesn’t account for what he actually cares about losing. Doesn’t account for her.
“And what do you see, Miss Fisher? A safety net? Something to be taken for granted, a distraction until the next adventure without even a letter to let me know you’re alive.”
“Fuck off,” she spits out.
“Gladly.” He turns to leave, and she shouts at his still turned back.
“I never promised I’d write.” He pauses in the parlour doorway, but doesn’t turn around.
“You never promised anything, Phryne. That would have been too much like something real.”
He leaves, for the first time hoping he won’t see her again.
The case at the college is excruciating. They get through it, but it's a close thing, and the irony of it ending with them both on a bike is not lost on him.
But he finds he does not wish to never see her again after all.
They share an alcohol-fueled accord after it is over, negotiate the new terms of their fractured partnership.
She makes the suggestion after the third glass.
He agrees after the fourth.
He meets her on the airfield the next morning, and is ungenerously pleased to see she is just as hungover as him. They share some of Mr. Butler’s tonic in companionable silence and wait until they are both fighting fit.
And then they fly.
It is an experience unlike any Jack has had before. He finds he rather agrees with Mr. Hugo as they dip and swoop in the air; he feels the thread of the infinite and he loves it.
Eventually they land and Phryne grins. “So how did you like my handlebars, Jack?”
“I liked them very much, Miss Fisher. Very much indeed.”
He walks her back to her car, and she turns to face him. Takes a deep breath. “I did write,” she confesses and he is literally stunned silent at the revelation. “Heaps of letters. I just couldn’t bear to send them. You said you were enlisting and… I was afraid they’d be returned. And I found the thought unbearable. I decided it was better to live in hope.” She reaches into her pocket and hands him a small wrapped item.
A beaten up sheriff's badge.
He never thought he��d see that again either.
“It was real, Jack. It was. But so is this. It’s different and it’s new but it’s real. And we’re missing it.”
He looks at her. Really looks at her. Not the distant, foggy memory of his first maybe love, but the living, breathing, remarkable woman in front of him.
What memory could compare to that?
He returns the badge to its rightful owner and asks her a question.
“Miss Fisher… may I buy you an ice cream at the foreshore?”
“No,” she tells him for the second time in their acquaintance. He nods. Accepts her answer this time as he had the first. “But I’ll buy you one.”
He smiles and it feels lovely and odd in the sun. “It’s a date.”
It is.
The first of many.
So much has changed in 20 years. They have changed. But they get to know each other again, anew, and find that much has not.
They still share a wicked sense of humour and care deeply about justice.
They still see each other.
Jack’s virginity hasn’t been an issue in a long, long time, but eventually what he does give her is his heart, and when he does he knows she will protect it. (She still has the badge after all.)
And now he knows he loves her.
There is a space, on the corner of Jack’s desk, that is just wide enough, and just low enough, to seat a person while he is working.
That is her spot.
It always has been.
| Short Fic Ask |
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Secret Love Song (ten x you)
here we go!
ps. Ten is a WayV and SuperM idol here, while Yuta, Jaehyun, and Johnny are not idols! Thanks
Song : Secret Love Song from little mix and Jason Durelo lol Derulo xD
warning : tiny bit of insecurities, lots of fluff, happy end.
CHITTAPON IS JUST SO SWEET!
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
You make your way slowly back to your small studio apartment. You rush from the nearest bus stop, walk through the cold winter night, reach the front door and then take the lift to your room. Today has been tiring, your neck and lower back are aching from sitting on stools for hours and reaching your clients body as you inject safe permanent inks into their skin. Yes, you are a tattoo artist, working in a superior tattoo parlor, where hygiene levels are guaranteed safe and the drawings are not regrettable. Well, your clients paid a hundreds of dollars to have a 4 inch tattoo! You have to admit, being a tattoo artist in a high-class studio gave a fair amount to pay your rents, eat decent foods, and spend some money for your happiness. You sigh when you remember that the flat fee for this month has been raised, and you know you will need to either find a new living space or work extra hours to pay for the extra cost.
You stretch your neck for a while as your fingers type in a six digit combination to open the door to your heaven: the bed. Once you close the door behind you, you take off your coat, carelessly toss your bag to the sofa, and free yourself from your boots. You make a quick attempt to untangle your scarf and dive belly first to your soft mattress. A sigh of great relieve escapes your mouth and you find your eyelids super heavy. You would totally fall asleep within five seconds if your bizarre phone did not disturb you.
Your hand blindly searches for the rectangular noisy object and when you find it, the ring has ended. You groan in frustration, but your fatigue drowns you back to slumber. This time there was a short beep five times in a row, and you know that is your boyfriend messaging you. Your mind fights over waking up to call him back, or just drive your tired eyes to sleep and deal with him later when you're fresh. You decided to do the latter, but today must not be your day. Your phone rings again and your finger slides to pick up his call.
"What?!" You snapped.
"Woah, easy... Did I call the wrong number?" the man on the other hand takes his phone away from his ear to check the caller ID. He shakes his head when he ensures this is the right number.
"Sorry... I-"you yawn and he stays silence until you continue, "I just got home, and your calls postpone my -so needed- sleep..."
He smiles to himself when he heard your yawns and slurs.
"Okay, I'll just tell you I'm busy for the next three days. I'll call you back, I need to do my make up now. Bye!"
You did not reply him, your brain didn't actually understand anything he said, you've lost yourself into the dreamland after finishing your sentence. You sleep through your dinner time, only to snore deeper as the night darkens.
__
One man sits stiffly on his chair in the powder room. He is waiting for his stylist to come and do his make up before he steps into the stage filled with a crowd dedicating their life, money, and time to support him and his group. He shakes his shoulder a bit to throw the pressure away, why did he feel like he committed a great sin for calling his girl just to disturb her from sleeping.
"Who is that Ten hyung?" Yang-yang who happens to catch a few of Ten's surprised action earlier asked.
Ten turns his head to face the youngest boy, he's about to open his mouth before the tallest and loudest man cuts his answer "It's (y/n) of course," Lucas offers his big smile while slapping Ten's shoulder.
"Stop it Lucas, I might poke his eye because of your sudden slap when I am drawing this eyeliner." The stylist who has been working hard to polish this pretty eyes of Ten, scowls at Lucas.
"Sorry, but it's true right?? It's (Y/n)???" Lucas takes a seat on one of the free chairs in the powder room. He's ready to go on stage already.
Ten shakes his head in disbelief and nods, "Yes it's her. Happy?"
Yang-yang smiles and drags his chair closer, "So... what happened? Spill the tea!"
Lucas also has his eyes bigger twice as much in size and his back is straightened, he is ready for the gossip!
Ten smacks his lips when the last stroke of light lipstick was applied; he checks himself on the mirror and nods an approval for the stylist to go. "Thank you!"
Now when nobody else is in the room, Ten finally opens his mouth.
"I called her at the wrong time I think... She snapped at me because she said I disturb her sleep?"
The two younger men pretend to understand though really they don't have a single idea why Ten must look this nervous just because his girlfriend snapped. Hey, every person has a bad day right?
Ten stares into the two soul across him and he face palms himself mentally when he realize there was no way Lucas nor Yang-yang understands his worry.
"Forget it, both of you are not helping." Ten pushes himself from the chair to put on his golden jacket.
"We're putting on mikes and in 7 minutes, you're going Live." The stage director opens the door right in time and a swarm of crew help the members put on their mikes.
Ten glances at his phone for the last time, there his smile rises when one notification pops from none other than you.
From: mon petit cœur
"Burn the stage,love! Bad Alive deserves the spotlight. <3"
Ten knows he doesn't have to reply that message, but the heavy weight in his heart is gone as he takes a deep breath and joins his other brothers to the side of the stage. They chant their group cheers and soon take over the stage.
--
You're awakened by your alarm clock around seven at night. Your head feels dizzy and you know that's probably because you skipped dinner. You force yourself to open your eyes. Your fingers expertly open the messenger application and through your squinting eyes, you type a short message to your boyfriend. Well, you promised him you won't miss their first stage of Bad Alive, and so here you are! seated on your worn-off sofa, an apple on one hand and the small TV provides you music and pictures. You focus yourself on the screen when you can see your boy and his team already shown for the interview at the screen. You fix your position, increase the volume, and you're totally awake when the stage shows your favorite group of all time.
The three minutes performance was over. You get up from your position, walk to throw the apple core away, and you grab your phone back.
To : Ten
"Amazing job you did there, my body's burning,
Guess I can save money from not using any more heaters.
Going home? <3"
You want to meet Ten so bad, it's already one month since you two didn't see each other. He has intensive practices for the comeback. Not that you're not understanding or selfish; You just wish he can make some time to come tonight, because you need someone to listen to you.
Your phone bleeped after an hour. Ten must've finished all of his works and probably already seated in the van, ready to leave the venue.
From: Ten
"Glad the song kept you warm. Sadly I've told you earlier in the call I cannot make it home these three days. Next week I also have another stage performance. I'll let you know when we can meet. How's today?"
Your shoulder slumped, you ghost you finger over the call button. You want to call him right now, but dating an idol is not that simple. If some manager or stylist caught you in the act, they might tell this to the director board and you know how this will end. Yes forced break up!
You left him on read. You glance at the clock on the dining room. It's already nine, you have some place to go. You dress yourself in a warm jacket and you leave the empty room. You hail a cab and direct an address. Your phone vibrated and you picked up a call.
"Hey! Where are you now?" Ten asks
"I'm going out for a while, why?"
"Oh, where are you headed to?"
"Ummm Johnny's, I forgot he invited me over for wine and cheese. Wanna join?"
"Is this Saturday Night already?"
You chuckled, "Yes Mr. busy, this is a Saturday Night."
"I'll see how the meeting with SuperM goes, til then have fun and be safe, Love you!"
"He's a nice brother, don't worry I'll be okay. Wait I have to get off the bus."
Ten waited for you on the other side of the line. He likes to make sure you're okay on the road. He busies himself with a strand of loose thread on his jacket and holds the phone close to his ear. His smile returns when your breathy voice greets him back.
"Woah, sorry there were several people going down too.
I'm only 3 minutes away! Are you in the office yet?"
"I'm entering the lobby, need to rush to the lift and see if everyone's there already."
"Okay, guess I'll end the call here. I can see his house already."
"No, I'll wait until you are in his house. Besides my notification just notifies me Taemin hyung is late."
"Well, I'm here already. Johnny's by my side."
"Alright, trust you. Tell him I miss him! Okay then, enjoy your night.
Call me whenever you need my help. Love you!"
You smile at his small attention, "Thanks Ten, Love you too! Good luck with the meeting."
The phone call ended
You enter the kitchen of the small house your brother and his fiancée bought. Johnny is five years older than you, and that's why he has been able to take care of you ever since the two of you were young. Johnny's wife happened to be staying in her mother's house because she had to look after her younger cousins. Johnny cannot join her because he needs to supervise his office. So here you are, the two of you meet one another for a siblings quality time.
"Tonight's special is Cabernet Franc," Johnny said after examining the bottle and taking the cork off.
I push him my empty glass and he fills in both glasses with the red liquid.
"Cheers," You both chime and clank the glass.
Moving on to sit on the comfortable L-sofa, you make yourself comfortable before finally starting to chat and talk about life. A soft music was played on the background, some classics because both of you felt like it.
"So, how is your day?" asked Johnny.
You gulp down the rest of the wine and roll your eyes, "Bad. Worst!"
Johnny straightens his back, "Ten? Or Work?"
You run your eyes right and left, taking a moment to think which one of them is bothering your mind. You smile when you know the answer, "Both!"
Johnny only raises his brow and you know the queue to spill everything out. Your mind went back to earlier this morning, where you woke up late and missed the bus to your office. You had to take the cab, since Ten was busy with his performance schedule today. You had to spend a good $20 to make it on time. You did arrive on schedule; the shop was opening as per usual. You greeted your co-workers, Yuta and Jaehyun.
The three of you have been working together since this parlor opened, there were no other worker here because we don't need that much! The people who step through the door were usually a regular or have made an appointment. However, today was totally irregular!
You remember the horror of Jaehyun's face when he entered the employee room with terror. Yuta was working on a customer's drawing and you were washing and cleaning the pen.
"We sorta have a problem here, there were three girls wanting to get a tattoo done without any appointments."
Yuta raised his brow, there must be something next that will surprise them both.
"They're minors. I've told them to come back when they're older, but they insisted."
"Let me talk," You place your pen down on a table and take the queue to talk to the girls. Well, Jaehyun is a softie, he cannot be strict especially to high-school girls.
You caught the three girls giggling over a picture on their phone, and you quickly snatched it away from her hand. They gasped and protested on your action, but you were taller than them.
"Sorry, but it was not appropriate for you to secretly take pictures of another person. This, I'm sure you took them secretly earlier. You're violating someone's privacy." You said as you deleted the pictures of a candid Jaehyun.
"If you're here only to take inappropriate pictures of my co-worker, leave immediately and don't ever come back. And you're clearly not 18 yet, the law stated you must be 18 to have a tattoo. Til then, let's wait patiently. Come back only when you are 18 and permitted to have ink on your body. Good bye." You returned the phone and shrugged your shoulder to the exit door.
The three girls have fires in their eyes and they were clearly killing you in their heads, but you're not afraid of babies like them.
"You're mean! Just wait for our revenge!" One of the girl stomped her feet in anger and ordered the other two to follow her and they left the parlor.
You let go a breath you held back earlier, then you decided to take the welcome desk for a while.
Just when you thought nothing else will go wrong, that's where you were fucked. Across you stood your nightmare. The enormous man across you smiled secretly when he found you greeting him.
"Well, welcome back Sir Dimitry, I believe you're here for a touch up?" You ran your eyes through today's schedule. Sadly his name was not there, but he was a regular and he's the Russian gang leader here, who roamed around Incheon at night. You knew better not to mess up with him, but that was not what bothers you.
He Is big and scary, the first time you saw him was when Yuta has to do a big dragon on his well built arm. That day you were occupied with another client, but although you were focused on doing your work, you can't help but feel his gaze on your body. Yuta and Jaehyun were aware of this, and since then they always try their best to take his project and they always lied you're busy or occupied. You're thankful for them. The two men were not so pleased to work on his skin too, for his drawings were always big, disturbing, and scary. However, he was the most generous tipper, and that made them close their mouth and ears (because he used to answer calls and believe me your ears won't stay cold listening to his choices of bad words).
"I haven't made an appointment yet, and I came here for a new drawing. I've had one in my mind and I believe you can finish tracing it in a couple of minute." The big guy leaned forward on the table.
There were two other people coming in and Yuta happened to pass by. You threw him a "help" sign and Yuta bit his lips, "My client is here already... I'm sorry, try Jaehyun."
Yuta took his customer to the studio and Jaehyun appeared beside you.
Jaehyun glanced at the clock, then looked into the Russian man's blue eyes "I'm sorry sir, but today we're a bit tight. You can come back here tomorrow say around one? I'll take your order, do you want a new drawing or retouch?"
The man hit the table, "I believe this lady over here is free right now, I don't see any client waiting for her. That guy is clearly your job Jae, I saw his tattoos those were definitely yours."He smiled winningly.
You cursed in your heart, well today you happened to have no appointments, you're only making templates. You closed your eyes, inhaled, and looked at Jaehyun. You nodded your head to tell him you'll be okay and you'll take him. Jae could lost his eyes from the shock when you sighed and told the big man, "Alright, I am free for two hours. Before that let me remind you I cannot do strong and big inks."
The Russian man smirked like a cat who won a fish, you took him to the processing room and he explained you what he want. You went to your professional mode and focused clearly on making his dream comes true. You were bargaining with him to make the designs smaller and less bold, he finally gave in. You worked your drawing quickly and after he agreed, you prepared your tools.
To make it short, it was the longest two hours in your life. He was clearly stealing views of you concentrating, and he was throwing so many offensive and disturbing flirts. You almost lost your cool when he joked about how hot you would look like on bed. You promised you held yourself from not forcing the word "bastard" to his neck and you clearly knew Yuta and Jaehyun were both busy keeping eyes on you. You're focused on making a word out of Russian alphabet you didn't know.
"I am attached, so please stop. You're going over the line already." You exhaled when he tried to touch your lap. You quickly pushed his hand away and you rushed your work.
"I said stop! You're harassing me!" You tossed the pen to your metal tray, and you pushed your chair back. He was not totally harassing you physically, but he was mentally fucking you. You saw his tent and you decided you'll stop your work. Well you finished it right on time though.
"I can file a report and you can be trialed." You stood up from your stool, but he held you back faster.
"Let go off her," Yuta threw him a deadly gaze and swatted the man's hand.
"You won't, they wouldn't care. Look this tattoo's amazing. I'm leaving you 500! Take the change." He forced the bills in my hand and made his way out.
You stood there surprised and petrified. You're ashamed of yourself, but what would your boss say if he found out a client was not satisfied because the girl artist did not want to work on his body. You'll lose your favorite job, and no you don't want that to happen yet.
Yuta and Jaehyun comforted you and ensured that you were not assaulted physically or even harmed. You shook your head and a tear fell on your cheeks. "I am embarrassed of myself, I feel bad for Ten... and Fuck I blew up my relationship."
Yuta ensured nobody will know, or you hope so. The day continued and after some more picky madams with boring gossips, you went home with....well an extra $300. You actually hated the money, but 300 is a big number, you can either put it on donation or pay your rent. You decided to put it in the cashier box though, let your boss decide. Usually a 100 bucks is already a big tip, this is triple! But thinking back of his actions, you hate everything.
"You sure you're okay?" Johnny reaches for your hand and takes a good look on your body.
You giggle, "It's fine, he almost reached for my lap but I was faster! But his mind, I can't control that..."
Johnny nods, "Just avoid him okay, or tell your boss you cannot take him. Moving on, tell me about Ten!"
"About Ten, I just hope dating an idol can be more public." You swirl your wine that had been refilled.
Your mind one again brought you into a daze, you remembered two years ago when Ten knew you from his tattoo appointment. You were responsible for his temporary tattoo for a comeback. He knew you from Taeyong, fellow SuperM member who made the 'UNDER STAND' tattoo with your help. Ten likes the result and he asked Taeyong where he got it done.
To make it short, you frequently see one another from discussion, drawing, and planning. Ten and you learned about one another quickly while he was on his ink bed, and you're focused on drawing his perfect sketch on his arm. The meeting became frequent after three months where he needed another tattoo for a comeback.
After returning about ten times to have a retouch or a new design, Ten finally earned your number. From there, everything was so fast and you're suddenly on your third year of dating an international famous idol! You thought you were ready for everything, not going public, staying home most of the time for dates, wearing masks and keep being undercover, even having sleepless nights while waiting for his message when he's away on a world tour. You can go on with the list, but you decided to focus on the good things more.
You were okay with Ten being away from his phone most of the time. He always did his best to send you an update about him, be it one emoji, a selfie, or a whole long ass paragraph of how his day went. He couldn't call you that much because someone might eavesdrop.
So far, no one thought Ten is having a secret love relationship. There were small fights, but both of you can talk it out together with cool heads and bonded stronger after the fight. Ten could see you and him being a family in the future, he even boldly told you his parents can't wait to meet you.
You were okay with all of the relationship, you were okay with his fans, you supported him on concerts and voting, you basically love him too with all your heart. Only one thing actually made you sad.
"What is that one thing? Not posting it in social media?" your brother teases you.
You lean on the soft cushions; your finger carelessly fiddles with the tassels hanging around the blanket Johnny had wrapped around you. You toss your look to his curious face.
"I want to walk under the cold winter air beneath the romantic lights, hand in hand, warmth shared from I don't know his heat pack in his pocket maybe... Then imagine the Christmas Carols are softly whispering in the night, mistletoe is everywhere. It doesn't have to wait until Christmas... I just want it whenever we can." You plop a cheese into your mouth. Your eyes were glassy when they look into Johnny's
Johnny pulls you closer and you instinctively lean in and let him caresses your back.
"You're tipsy, can you still walk?"
You shot your eyes open, the hell did your brother just kicked you out? Hey it's night already! Shouldn't he let you sleep in??
"I am not going home! It's dangerous! What kind of brother are you? Telling your little sister to go home at this time." You hit him repeatedly.
Johnny rolls his eyes, you clearly had too much!
"WALK TO THE BED SIS, WALK TO MY ROOM AND SLEEP PROPERLY." Johnny stresses each of the word in case my ears did not caught them.
You look at him blankly and Johnny knew you're gone already. He swiftly picks you up and carries you to the bed. Nicely he tucks you in and he cleans up the mess in the living room.
He notices his phone vibrating; noticing it was Ten, he picks up the call.
"She's sleeping in tonight, you're on the dorm right?" Johnny asks.
Ten answers him his schedule for the week and how he's not going home. He also told Johnny what happened earlier this afternoon. Johnny smirks as he whispers a code to Ten.
__
Two weeks passed by, you already forgot your grudges to Ten. You try to be considerate to his hectic schedules. One cold afternoon, just after you finished working on your last client for today, you take your time cleaning the tools and sterilizing them. While humming to Love Talk, your favorite song, Jaehyun peeks from the curtain door.
"(Y/n), someone's looking for you." Jaehyun drags the curtain open. You pause your activity, for a moment; your eye brows quirked. You focus your mind to see if you missed an appointment, but no you're positive no one called you for a session this afternoon.
"Hmm, we still have time before closing time, so okay I'll take it."
You leave the room to see your client and you're surprised to see your boyfriend sitting on the waiting room.
"Ten!" You squeal out of surprise and joy. You run to hug him, well it has been three weeks since you last saw him in tangible state. Three weeks of video-calls and texts were quite satisfying, nevertheless.
Your boyfriend hugs you back and engulfs your smaller figure. He inhales the sweet scent of your shampoo he missed and how he wished the time can stop here right now.
"You're here for a new tat?" You ask after breaking the hug.
Ten shakes his head, "No, I got dismissed earlier and I want to pick you up!"
You blushed, hey that's so sweet of him. Unlike other boyfriends, having Ten walking in the sidewalk without his manager and body guards is a rare occurrence. Ten was always in the van or swarmed by fans! This afternoon however, here he is standing with a long winter coat, face hidden under a cap and a mask. He did not wear anything eye catching to avoid the media and saesangs. He did it! He made it here in your office without any missing piece or a trending twitter hashtag!
"Well we have another 20 minutes before my shift ends; do you need any help for a tattoo?" You smile at him. Hey planning a tattoo with Ten is always wonderful.
"You know we can always draw them together at home." He smirks and brushes my hair away from my face.
"Okay then, wait for a moment as we're tidying up." A big smile erupts from your lips and your heart is full of flowers!
--
"Good bye Jae, Yuta!" You wave your hand as the two men let you leave first while they close the doors.
Ten is already waiting for you on the front porch with his hidden face. You place your mask over your face too. You stick yourself next to Ten to hug his arm, his heart softens at the sight, how a soft girl like you can work as a tattoo artist with Yuta and Jaehyun (who both have enormous prints on their bodies).
Without any warning, Ten takes one of your hand into his, he holds yours tightly and slips them to his jacket pocket."It's a bit cold right? Now where should we go?"
Your eyes widen, usually he always brings you home directly since he cannot be in public for too long.
"Shall we just go home? I can cook dinner." You sound confused by his offer tonight.
Ten shakes his head, and drags you without any clue where are we headed.
You are so stunned when you find yourself finishing a nice dinner course at a new restaurant. Luckily it was not crowded yet and no one seems to notice Ten, but dinner was not the end of the surprise.
You stand frozen under the dazzling disco ball, beneath your feet are colorful light up tiles, surrounding you are the moving body of half-conscious people, and your ears are slowly aching from the loud music.
"Ten, can we go somewhere quiet, I can't talk." You lean in closer to scream into his ear and your boyfriend pulls you out of the crowded space.He brings you to the bar and helps you sit on one of the stool.
"One bourbon for me, and a vodka for this pretty lady." Ten smiles to the bartender.
After he takes his sit next to you, you raise your brow. He knows that code and he quickly reaches for your hands.
"You don't like dancing in the club? It's a Sunday Night, I thought some drinks won't hurt right?" Ten knows you're not new to these kinds of places.
You let out a free laugh, "I do love dancing in the club, I'm just surprised why you're suddenly doing this. Plus if you told me, I could have prepared for better attire!" You hit him playfully.
Ten takes your hand into his, "Well, you look great already, plus we must not catch attention right." He leans in closer to you.
Your eyes slowly move down over his nose and finally on his lips. Maybe it was the way they glistened under the dim light, or the tenderness you miss, or just simply his lip bites he always did when he's nervous! You feel gravity pulling you closer just to taste a tiny bit of it, but Ten moves back quickly when the bartender returns with two glasses of our drinks.
"Thank you!" Ten hands over the cash and offers you your glass. You found yourself stupid for almost kissing him in public. Rule number one of dating an idol is to never kiss on public.
"Sorry," You look everywhere but his eyes and gulp down your shot.
Ten just nods beside you and there was a bit of a tension between you and him. Maybe you're still embarrassed of your action, but Ten is actually enjoying your braver side.
"Let's hit the floor. I really miss dancing together." Ten easily picks you out of your stool and lands you gently on the floor. One shot of vodka won't make you drunk yet, but you spent your youth dancing on the dance floor, so this is nothing for you.
The DJ was wonderful tonight; his choices of songs are perfect and as the two of you are getting more and more heated up under the throbbing lights. The dance floor was crowded and there was not much space left. You share his body heat, you can feel his breath tickles your neck, and you can once again see his plump cherries. You drive your mind elsewhere, and move your body to the rhythm. You smile at him and he smiles back at you, with one deep glance the two of you inches closer and closer.
Your eyes grew heavy, vision dark, you let your other senses work, and you feel that warm plump lips touching yours. You caught your breath and after some time, he pulls back. The loud sound blasting through the speaker slowly disturbs your hearing again. You open your eyes slowly and stare into his deep eyes. He places his hands over your waist, pulls you into his arms, and the two of you sway to the loud slow music the DJ offers.
You're no longer thinking straight. You bury your face into his chest, you trust yourself into his lead and a single tear fell down.
When you hold me in the street
And you kiss me on the dance floor
I wish that we could be like that
Why can't we be like that, Cause I'm yours.
You know this is everything you need to face when dating an idol, and you cannot hate him for this. It was your decision to say yes to him. Your head spins, your ears deafened, your vision darkens, and you no longer feel your feet.
You lost your conscious; all of a sudden you're already lying down on your bed. Turning your head to the side, you see Ten sleeping by your side hugging you loosely while taking in calm and relaxed breath. You grit your teeth as you try your best to softly turn your body to face him.
In his warm embrace you snake your hand to ghost over his godly face to brush away the golden locks away from his eyes. You stare at his innocent face, you're overwhelmed. It's been a while since the last time you has Ten by your side when you sleep. He was always busy and thousands of miles away from you in a different time zone. You touch his cheeks and wipe a tear running down from your eye.
We keep behind closed doors
Every time I see you, I die a little more
Stolen moments that we steal as the curtain falls
It'll never be enough
Just the sound of his relaxed breathing and the slight touch of his arms over your waist, you finally found the missing warmth and peace you've always craved for bedtime. Having Ten lying next to you tonight sparked a small fire in your chest. You feel safe and you're so emotional. You snuggle closer to him, Ten stirs in his sleep but did not wake up, instead he naturally finds your body and fixes his posture to a comfortable position. You face his chest, right where you can see the tattoo you nicely did on his left chest (where he worked so hard to get his mom's permission) you smile when you remember how happy he was when he sneaked out to meet you to deliver the happy news.
Your heart flutters, he did not need to wake up to fit you into his embrace. Your relationship fits like a puzzle where each pieces were so different that you won't make mistakes. You want to believe that Ten is the one destined for you and so are you to him!
It's obvious you're meant for me
Every piece of you just fits so perfectly on me
Your mind plays thousands of silly scenarios. Most of them were happy, but you cannot lie that the darkest corner in your brain still repeatedly tricks you with nightmares. It was not the first time you have dreams about his fans finding out your relationship, you cannot imagine their faces and you cannot imagine living with the constant fear that one of those fans might kill you out of obsession!
Your insecurities also snatch your confidence away whenever you see Ten standing on a stage with another "oh so perfect" girl idols or models or hell actresses! Not to mention the flirty look those back up dancers always toss to your man. Well, they might be throwing flirts on him because they did not know Ten is attached already; however, even when they know 90% will fight harder and the rest 10% will let go. You're living in fear, in terror that one day when you wake up Ten can no longer be beside you.
You break your own promise about always telling one another your fears and struggles. You hide them behind your cheerful smile, you blame yourself for over thinking, and you make sure Ten will never know that. You are learning every day to put the negative thoughts away and focus on the good ones. Ten needs your support, Ten loves you, and you believe that. You can sleep a bit after convincing your heart that the man hugging you here is an angel made for you!
Every second, every thought, I'm in so deep
But I'll never show it on my face
Your eyes flung open when you feel the sudden drop of temperature. Your hand reaches to your side in panic and you peek to see that it's no longer occupied. You stretch yourself to wake up, Ten might be away already for his schedule. You take your phone to see any message he probably left, but there were none. You glance to the door, it was closed. There are no traces of Ten, not his shirt, not even his phone.
Once the room door was opened, your nose is filled with a fresh smell of bacon and eggs. Your smile returns when you see Ten only in his boxer and apron. You can hear your washing machine working and when you look at the door, you smile when you see a pile of your laundry and his outfits are there.
"Morning princess, I'm sorry I have to run the laundry for my clothes...since someone happened to spill a drink over me yesterday and I'm not going back to the dorm with a smelly outfit." Ten explains while flipping an egg over. He sets the fire to a lower heat and turns his body to see you.
You can only smile like a dumb love-struck girl (which is not wrong). You make your way to jump and hug him. Ten automatically receives you in his arms and you dip your head down to greet your lover with a sweet morning kiss. In between the sweet kiss, you can see Ten smiling like he enjoys these kinds of cheesy morning things.
"You better stop kissing me," Ten speaks up on our short breaks, he kisses you one more time, "Or I will burn the eggs."
You laugh and toss your head back, you take your queue to jump off him and Ten quickly saves his egg from burning. "Just right in time," He smirks when he plates the last egg on the dish.
"Please take your seat miss, breakfast by your hottest man is ready." He sits down across you with one plate of the same menu. From your request, Ten did not take off his apron. No you do not need a distraction this early!
Your mind records every single moment Ten giggles and laughs, his wake up state is already so lovely and you cannot imagine how perfect your mornings will be if the two of you finally tie the knot and live together. You can only keep that in your small heart, a really simple dream you wish you can achieve. Living with Ten for the rest of your life, why? Because you know he is the man made for you. But are you the woman made for him?
You finish your breakfast and as the washing machine finished its job in drying the clothes too, you hear his phone rings. Ten glances at the buzzing noise. You toss him a small smile before leaning in to kiss him and walking away to take the laundries. You pick up his shirt, Ten does his duty to wash the dishes and pan he used.
"Let me iron this quickly," You disappear to at least send him off to work in a nice attire.
Ten places the last dish on the drying rack and he starts to pack all of his stuffs, he brushes his hair and teeth, puts his cap back on and his eyes soften when he sees you coming back with a neat shirt.
He finally takes off his apron and with your help, put on his tidy sweet smelled shirt. Secretly Ten loves your laundry soap and that's one reason why he used your washing machine. He wants to smell like you!
"So, when can I see you again?" You ask as you fix his collar. You're facing him and only inches away from his nose.
Ten smiles and puts his hands over your waist, he leans in to stare deeper into your eyes, "Whenever you want miss! I'm only one call away," he winks.
Both of your face are slowly erasing the gap between you two and just as you close your eyes his phone abruptly kills the mood. You pull your face back and you can see Ten cussing at the caller.
"Damn Lucas! Such a mood breaker! I told him I am coming in 10 minutes," Ten presses the red button and pockets his phone. You burst out laughing, of course it must be Lucas!
"Well, guess you will want to go before Kun calls you! Thanks for yesterday and today and everything!" You hug him and bury your face on his chest. "I wish you can come often and do my dishes!" You taunt your tongue.
Ten ruffles your hair and kisses your forehead for the last time, "Okay, I need to go now. You also need to prepare yourself for work."
You nod and note the time, it's an hour to the store opening hours, you need to get ready.
"Bye love, take care! I love you." Ten walks to the exit after putting on his coat and shoes.
"Love you more!" You stand by his side facing by the exit door.
"Love you most," he winks and finally pulls his cap to cover his face and puts his mask on. He finally turns around and walks to the lift.
You return to your room, taking a bath and getting ready for another long week. You believe if you can get through this, your dream of living with Ten will be clearer and brighter.
Your day goes on and you cannot lie whenever you see him on social media, a website, a magazine, or a music show, even from the talks from your customers, you cannot throw the disturbing insecurities away from your mind.
Is our love hopeless?
Will the world accepts me as his significant other?
Will his family love me?
Will he even stay by my side, or will he found someone new who is better than me?
Those are the things you cannot spill to him that haunt you every time he is away.
You play with the promise ring Ten gave you on your two years anniversary. The dark minds foreshadowing your mind suddenly disappear just as you remember the same words Ten always recites, "You're the puzzle that fits into me, why would I let you go? Trust me and wait for me, I love you more than anything!"
With that, your smile erupts back into your face and the rainbow in your heart plus mind is back. You know you just have to trust Ten the same way he trusts you! Life will bring you two together if it is meant to be, and fate will also play a part.
Because Trust is everything you need for an everlasting love story right?
#ten x reader#ten x you#ten x y/n#ten imagines#ten oneshot#ten scenarios#wayv ten scenarios#wayv ten#wayv imagines#nct imagine masterlist#nct smut#wayv smut#ten smut#ten fluff#ten fanfiction#ten fanfic#ten nct#nct ten#superm#nct#wayv#imagine superm#nct imagine#wayv imagine#wayv oneshot#wayv scenarios#chittaphon x you
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not designed for the cynical [kylux with side phasma/rey, rated T]
PROMPTS: communication suddenly cut off (@badthingshappenbingo, 8/25) & bed sharing - pet - delivery (@kyluxxoxo)
SUMMARY:
Whenever Snoke calls upon only Ren’s service, Hux sends word to all his relevant contacts that he’s available. The job offer he accepts turns out to be far more than he's bargained for.
(This is a low-key Inception AU that requires little to no knowledge of the movie.)
FANDOM: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
TAGS: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Sharing a Bed, Mutual Pining, Alternate Universe - Inception Fusion, except not really, Armitage Hux Has Feelings, Kylo Ren and Rey Are Related
NOTES: This was written mostly during commute and/or sleep-deprived within an inch of my life and edited under the same circumstances. As such, I don't have the faintest clue what this is, but I love it.
5K || ALSO ON AO3
Hux isn’t prone to worry.
He is prone to stress, and he’s got the blood pressure to prove it—but that’s a necessity of the life they lead. It’s got its uses. Worry, however, is for when you don’t have an alphabetised, colour-coded list of plans for every situation that may arise. Worry is for the under-prepared.
Worry is a waste of time.
Knowing this doesn’t stop the fist around his heart from squeezing tight every time he hits redial and finds Ren’s phone still switched off, however.
Then again, there’s no real reason to worry about it. It’s a perfectly Ren move to go off the radar for weeks on end and turn up three countries away from where he was supposed to be, shrugging off all reprimand like he can’t understand why they’re so angry about it. It’s just what he does—he disappears, then he shows up at your doorstep when you least expect it.
He will this time, too. He promised—he will be back by Hux’s birthday.
----------------
Contrary to the popular (re: Ren’s) belief, life doesn’t stop just because Ren is off doing what Ren does somewhere else.
Even with all the safe houses and personas they maintain all across the world, the unreasonable amounts of money Snoke throws at them to be at his beck and call is more than enough to keep them afloat. Ren would be fine with not taking another independent job ever again; but Hux knows better than to rely on Snoke alone. He’s been burned enough times by fickle employers; he’s not ready to bet on the wrong horse and have to build his reputation up from scratch yet again.
That’s part of why, whenever Snoke calls upon only Ren’s service, Hux sends word to all his relevant contacts that he’s available. It keeps him in the game, on the occasion he gets an offer worth considering—and if he doesn’t, he calls it getting a feel for the market and moves on.
Monday morning finds him curled on the sofa, going through the responses on his phone. Most offers he received are below his notice like he expected, some downright insulting—and then there’s the e-mail from Enric Pryde himself.
He sits up so fast he almost knocks over his empty cup.
Among the dreamshare community, the First Order is as revered as it is despised. They reach out to very few and pay three times what they should; but the cost of failure is equally severe, growing proportionately to the project’s worth. Which seems to be a lot, in this case. While he can’t tell from the sparse details in the e-mail whether this Project Starkiller is meant to be a moving city or some sort of weapon—perhaps both, knowing the First Order—he already estimates at least two layers, more likely three, and a special blend of stabiliser for the dreamer and the architect both, who cannot be the same person for this design.
Because they want him on board as the main architect and his dreams never hold steady after the first layer, special blend or no.
Whatever he was looking for as a quick job, this is not it. It’s far more involved and challenging than he could have imagined—and, he’s finding, everything he needed. He could do this for himself. He could work a job he enjoys, instead of running point to Ren or Phasma’s picks all the time to keep them from working with incompetent point men.
Ren and Phasma, who might be working with incompetent point men halfway across the world this very moment.
No. No, he’s not thinking that. His birthday is only three days away. Everything is fine.
----------------
He e-mails back to say he’s honoured and asks for one week to get his team together. Pryde gives him five days and a thinly-veiled warning that there are others who would jump at this opportunity.
Stomach at his feet, Hux throws his phone on the coffee table and gets up to make more tea.
----------------
As expected, research gives him little of substance about the First Order’s operations and nothing at all about the Starkiller, although he finds a low-quality close-up of Pryde to glare at as he sketches out some ideas. They will get binned once he gets his hands on the self-destructing dossiers or whatever ridiculous security protocols the First Order may work with; but it keeps him busy. Better than watching the hours tick by.
When the clock turns from 11:59 to midnight on what is now Thursday, he considers texting Rey to ask if she’s heard from Phasma recently—changes his mind before he even picks up the phone. Ren wouldn’t like it. Hux has been accused of being a control freak more times than he can count as it is; he doesn’t want to add clingy to the list of his unattractive qualities.
----------------
At two in the morning, the doorbell rings.
He is going to murder Ren.
The door had never felt so close or so far as he rushes to it, heart hammering in his chest. He’s going to let Ren in, he’s going to check him for injuries and he’s going to disembowel that infuriating, thoughtless, selfish piece of shite if he’s had Hux fret all this time for no reason—
“Hi,” Rey chirps, looking up at him with damp eyes and a brittle smile. She raises a bottle of whiskey—Phasma’s favourite. “Happy birthday?”
He opens the door wider.
----------------
Admittedly—not out loud; he would never hear the end of it, from her or her cousin—Rey scores high on the short list of people whose company he enjoys. The booze helps, too. They drink in front of the television Hux hasn’t switched off in days and talk about everything but the aching holes in their chests.
She falls asleep on the sofa. He puts a blanket over her and goes to bed.
----------------
In the morning—practically afternoon, if he’s being honest—he tells her about the Starkiller. The plan was to pitch it to Ren first, to see what he thinks before bringing in the others. As it is, Ren isn’t here and none of Hux’s messages has gone through since their interrupted conversation and Hux is going to bloody explode if he doesn’t tell someone.
“I’m not sure, Armie,” she says around a spoonful of breakfast cereal he certainly didn’t buy. “He will never agree to work for the First Order.”
“Why the hell not? He works for Snoke.” Rather happily, in fact. Ren never prepares more carefully for a job than one of Snoke’s plentiful errands, no matter how simple. “Why wouldn’t he work for Snoke’s own company?”
She considers him for a long moment, chewing slowly. “He hasn’t told you the story.”
The implication—accusation—stings deep. “What story?” he demands, pushing his tea away to lean closer. The words held the intonation of capital letters, which means missing information that could potentially blindside them down the line. His respect for Ren’s private business isn’t greater than his responsibilities.
“Not mine to tell,” she says sternly, pinching her lips in disappointment like he should be ashamed to have asked to begin with. “Ask him.”
He snorts. Ren is hardly the sharing type, especially where Hux is concerned. Everything he’s ever learned about Ren has come through other means—and vice versa, he imagines.
She frowns, a question rising behind her eyes. He tenses on instinct. “Anyway,” she continues, shaking her head—and he can breathe more easily again. “My point is, if we’re doing this, we’ll need another forger.”
We. He doesn’t suppress his smile, relief coating his insides. “I suspect we won’t need a forger for this one. A chemist, on the other hand…”
----------------
She doesn’t leave and he doesn’t ask her to. They polish off the whiskey and pretend not to check their phones every ten minutes while binge-watching Star Wars, including the newest releases even their resident space nerd couldn’t finish.
He visualises Ren’s horrified expression when Hux reveals how he and Rey bonded over their shared love for big guns and hot villains in Ren’s absence. Laughter gets stuck in his throat, forming a painful lump instead.
He bids her good night and slinks away into his bedroom to stare at the ceiling.
Barely ten minutes pass before the television switches off in the next room, soft footsteps echoing lightly in the corridor. He turns his back to the door and feigns sleep as it opens and closes—which is a coward’s way, but he’s never claimed to be a particularly brave man. If he were, he would have asked Ren to stop working for Snoke instead of stewing in his misery right now.
Compared to her cousin, Rey’s weight barely shifts the mattress as she climbs in, sliding under the covers without fanfare. He shuts his eyes tighter and allows himself to imagine, just for a moment, that Ren is back.
“I haven’t heard from Phasma in over a month.”
Over a month? Hells, no wonder she sought him out. “Ren and I talked two weeks ago,” he says—realises with a sinking feeling that it sounded like he was rubbing it in. “Closer to three, actually.”
“What did he say?”
“Not much that I could understand. The reception was horrible.” Bits and pieces through constant breaking: Hux, shit, in case, person and, inexplicably, home. “I didn’t get the impression they were in danger—just inconvenienced.” As is often the case with these missions. Snoke’s got a small army of trained private security under his command and he still sends Ren to the most out-of-the-way places.
That Snoke’s hired Phasma as well for this one is a little more concerning, but not overly so. Reckless as they both can be, Ren and Phasma are forces to be reckoned with on the field—Hux would be more inclined to feel sorry for their adversaries.
Rey sighs. “Hope you’re right, Armie.”
----------------
If Mitaka is surprised to see Rey strut about in Hux’s shortest joggers she still needed to fold at the ankles and an old shirt, he politely doesn’t mention it. He and Rey exchange banal pleasantries over coffee and day-old cake while Hux finishes typing up his notes, then they get to work.
Mitaka listens to the briefing with unwavering attention, his fingers stapled in front of him like a front-row student. Like everyone else in their extended team, Mitaka is an experienced, accomplished dreamer—and yet, Hux can’t help looking at him and seeing the fresh-faced cadet Phasma had dragged in ages ago, barely into his twenties and all the more naive for it.
They’ve gotten old—Hux most so.
Once Hux finishes, “If you both are building this time,” Mitaka starts, looking between the two. “Who will be taking point? The Captain?”
Next to him, Rey inhales sharply, her face mostly hidden behind the curtain of her hair. Shame crosses through Mitaka’s face at the realised misstep.
“She’s otherwise occupied,” Hux responds before Mitaka can break into apologies. No need to make this more painful or awkward than it needs to be. “I will be running point as usual, and Rey is here to help with the heavy-lifting.”
Mitaka nods, glancing at Rey with concern before turning to Hux fully. “Where do I sign?”
----------------
They sign a heavily-encrypted stack of documents digitally, sending them through the First Order’s own communication system. The next day, they receive a link to a private cloud service with a convoluted unlock sequence that can be accessed by one device at a time, read-only.
Hux alone works on three different devices.
On the bright side, the project they receive is well-worth the inconvenience. Their objective is to design and build a superweapon out of an extensively described ice planet in the dreamspace, which must be capable of hitting five targets simultaneously and obliterating all affected life forms on them without causing a single non-predetermined casualty. Controlled chaos, if you will. The First Order wants a catastrophe they can tame and leash.
Hux can make it happen.
Whether he can make it happen in eight weeks is a different question entirely.
----------------
Without Ren to drag him away from work, he’s free to divide his waking hours between his screens and the sitting room, which they repurposed into a workshop-slash-dream den. While Hux is a decent architect in a pinch, he could never build the way Rey does—the way she bends the dreamspace to her will and creates cities that feel alive around them. Between the two of them, they have the groundwork laid out within days, quickly moving on to revising the base design according to the specifications in the main file and the numbers Hux runs.
Instead of using pre-mixed batches, Mitaka mixes their Somnacin from scratch on the kitchen table, reworking the formula per the reactions. None he comes up with works to keep Hux’s dreams steady, although a couple seem to ground his control over the dreamspace. Most just turn the dreams into nightmares for everyone involved.
Many of the nightmares are about Ren. Every time they manage to wake up from one of those, he looks at Rey to apologise. She never meets his eyes.
----------------
Unlike the two of them, Mitaka has family to return to and so he does when it gets late, leaving them to eat take-away and talk around the elephant in the room. On the rare occasion they do talk. Even though Hux gets the most shit for his workaholic tendencies, they all are guilty of it in different degrees; most nights are spent hunched over desks or tablets until they come close to shooting each other over the smallest noise or mistake, then they retire for the night.
The bedroom is where the worst fears come out.
“They might need our help,” she murmurs, lowly enough that the words could get lost among the howling wind outside. “They might be injured or—or lost, waiting for rescue. And we would be here arguing about heat transfer.”
“They aren’t.”
“But how do you know?”
He sighs loudly, turning to face Rey. Her eyes are big and eerily bright in the darkness, shining. “Look, Ren and I have been through this before. We’ve got contingencies in place for any kind of emergency—strategies to scarper and regroup as needed, fake identities with paper trail, codes to slip into lines of communication that will find their way to the other’s ear—all of which tied to systems that would alert us both if ever used. So far?” He gestures vaguely to his phones on the nightstand. “Complete radio silence.”
“Well it might be because he’s—”
His stomach lurching, “Don’t,” he bites out. He’s had enough nights contemplating that possibility himself, reasoning himself out of that line of thinking with more effort each time; he can’t handle someone else saying it.
Especially not Rey, whose unfailing optimism has seen them through many a dark spot.
“They will be back soon,” he says with conviction he forces himself to feel. They always do. This is just taking longer than expected.
Rey’s silence rings in the room.
----------------
At the end of the third week, Enric Pryde reaches out to him. His voice is as cold and serpent-like as he looks.
They talk for two and a half minutes—more accurately, Pryde relays his demands for two minutes and rebuffs Hux’s protests for the next half, then hangs up unceremoniously on him.
Fuming, Hux tries to glare a hole into his phone for about as long before going to wake Rey up.
----------------
“What do you mean, they are relocating us?”
Latching his fingers tight to keep from scraping at his already raw palms, “I mean exactly what I said,” Hux grinds out. “They want to move us into some safe house where they will provide us with everything we’ll need for the rest of the project. We don’t have the option to refuse their generosity.”
“They want to monitor us,” Mitaka says on the other end of the line, ever fond of pointing out the obvious. “Can they do that?”
“Would you like to be the one to tell them they can’t?” Hux shakes his head. They are not small fish; but the First Order is big enough to swallow them whole and not suffer for it. He knows to pick his fights. “If you’d like to drop off the face of the earth, now is the time.”
Rey snorts—as much of an answer as Mitaka’s bitter laughter.
“Well,” Rey says, scraping her chair back. “I should pack some clean underwear. When are they coming to get us?”
“As we speak.”
----------------
Before they leave, they make sure to sketch out First Order insignias on every available place. Just in case.
----------------
The safe house is, for all intents and purposes, a veritable villa in the middle of nowhere.
“A little excessive,” Mitaka comments as they tour the place, noting the bolted down furniture and darkened windows, locked conspicuously on the outside. The cupboards and the fridge are well-stocked enough to keep them fed for several months.
There is no mobile coverage.
In fact, there is no wireless connection of any sort. The multitude of devices strewn about in the house are all connected to the First Order’s own network and communications system, which provides access to every archive they might need for the project and nothing else.
The dread coiled in Hux’s guts grows heavier.
So much for his alert systems.
----------------
Progress is much faster with so much information at their fingertips.
Hux is envious of the berths of the First Order databases. Effective as his own methods of gathering intelligence are, his network couldn’t hope to have the same reach as a well-funded PMC—which he could have been a part of, had he not gone freelance instead of corporate after leaving the military.
The idea is tempting, still. He’s ruined for the civilian workforce—has been since childhood, with a father like General Brendol Hux was—but he seeks the structure and order that comes with being part of an organisation. Under different circumstances, he may have considered applying to the First Order after this project.
As their prisoner in everything but name, he wants little more than to be as far away from them as possible.
----------------
Everything they’ll need doesn’t involve a private chef or buffet, but it involves private delivery people who pick up whatever they want, no matter what they want, in a timely fashion. Because they are spiteful opportunists, they order the most extravagant and unreasonable meals they can think of. The food always arrives hot.
Hux marks the potential restaurants for each food item and how long it took to arrive on a small map every time. Just in case.
----------------
Sleeping in the same bed while Mitaka is in the next room feels too awkward, so they don’t. They don’t sleep much in general, either—not with the question of how to power a machine of the Starkiller’s scale without it overheating hanging heavy over their heads. Dreamshare mechanics are a lot more forgiving than their real-world counterparts; if they can’t pull it off down there, they sure as hell won’t make it work topside.
They have to make it work topside, they now know. The First Order wouldn’t have poured so much money and resources into what is merely Pryde’s pet design project.
“They probably have people looking into it,” Rey says, spinning her pen around her fingers with smugness dripping from her expression. He’s not petty enough to dare her to replicate it in the real world, but the thought is there. “Some super high-tech R&D division working on preventing a weapon of mass-destruction from exploding instead of, like, climate change.”
Watching her fingers like the secrets of the universe lie between them, “I don’t think so,” Mitaka responds. “It’s too much of a commitment. I bet they just wait for someone else to figure it out, then steal the designs from them.”
Something flares at the back of Hux’s mind like static, a connection he doesn’t want to make forcing itself into his awareness.
He shakes his head hard to clear it. Even with the dilation, he doesn’t have the time to dwell on things he’s got no control over.
“If you two are quite done gossiping,” he cuts in, smoothing over the blueprints in front of him for effect. “We’ve got work to do.”
----------------
We’re going to take something someone else worked very hard for, was all Ren had said the night before his departure—the only time Hux dared ask about his new job, once it became apparent Ren wasn’t going to say a word about it on his own. It’s such a non-answer that Hux couldn’t tell if Ren wanted to leave him space for plausible deniability or simply didn’t want to tell him.
He still can’t. As a matter of fact, he can’t say for sure Snoke’s job and this project are connected, either; all he’s got is a hunch.
A hunch he desperately wants to see proven wrong.
----------------
Mitaka’s newest blend is the most successful yet. They go down as far as the third level with only minor tremors under their feet—a huge leap of progress, after weeks of the ground swallowing them up whole.
Knowing better than to push their luck, they call it an early night and celebrate by ordering a feast they’ll have to take their time with. With the dinner table and every other horizontal space that could reasonably hold food covered in their work, they sprawl about the sofa set that hasn’t seen nearly enough use over their involuntary stay.
Once their food arrives and Rey realises what he ordered, a soft look crosses over her face. He ignores it. There’s only one place that serves Ren’s favourite food; it makes for a good reference point on his map. It’s not sentimental if it’s also practical.
----------------
He knew, from a logical standpoint, that having access to communication systems meant people could communicate with them and vice versa. On account of the fact that Pryde and the delivery people are the only ones to use it, he didn’t particularly care.
When the name Blysma pops up on the main screen, he realises what a gross oversight that was.
Heart at his throat, he accepts the request with shaking hands, grateful that no one is awake to see him like this. “Hux speaking.”
“Hello, Hux.”
Oh.
Oh, the ever-loving—
“Don’t say my name,” Ren adds quickly, as if he sensed that Hux was about to curse his name six ways to Sunday. “Or any other names. They don’t actively monitor your communications, but we’re pretty sure some keywords are flagged. Best not to take any chances.”
“We,” he repeats dumbly. So many questions are buzzing in his head that he doesn’t know which should take priority. “You and—ah, our mutual terrifying friend?”
Phasma’s melodic laughter rings through the other end of the line. Hux’s heart soars.
“Yeah,” Ren says, a little breathy. “Yes, we’re both here. And fine. The job ran late. Where the fuck are you?”
About that… “I don’t actually know,” he admits, the truth of it settling dark and deep into his gut. Trying to map out their location left him with more questions than answers. “Near the ocean. Far north of the city, I think; but we shouldn’t have crossed any borders.”
“That doesn’t narrow it down,” Ren says.
Irritation rising in him, “We were hardly given a tour guide for the road,” he snaps. You should have been there to take notes, is on the tip of his tongue—he swallows the words. Ren is here now, in a way. They’ve found Hux and the others. The insignias must have pointed them in the right direction; but figuring out how to contact Hux through the First Order’s own systems? That’s all their doing.
Taking a long breath to calm himself down, “How did you contact us anyway?” he asks.
“By calling in more favours than your sorry life is worth,” Phasma says, amusement lingering in her tone. He has never been happier to hear her mocking drawl. “So you had better give us something concrete to work with before we decide to leave you to rot there.”
Racking his brain, he takes a deep breath to ground himself. He’s got to focus. However Ren and Phasma managed to get into the First Order’s systems, they are unlikely to remain unnoticed for long. He needs to make the most of it.
The answer is so simple, he wants to smack himself upside the head.
“At noon, we will place an order for three servings of Bivoli tempari from the Hosnian. Track whoever is delivering it. They should lead you to us.”
----------------
He doesn’t tell the others about it. For one, he’s not fully sure his stress-addled brain didn’t make up the whole interaction—for another, they have a check-in with Pryde scheduled at 3, during which they’re going to disappoint him again with their lack of progress regarding the overheating issue. They are on thin ice as it is; he can’t take a gamble on the quality of the others’ poker faces and risk attracting Pryde’s suspicion.
At exactly noon, he contacts the delivery people and relays the order. In his periphery, Mitaka and Rey share a look.
Once he takes his seat again, “I thought the Hosnian was eat-in only,” Rey says.
Hux shrugs. “They said everything you’ll need.”
----------------
He orders something different from the Hosnian at the same time for the next four days, just in case. Mitaka is too polite to protest, despite the cuisine clearly not agreeing with him.
Rey eyes him suspiciously every time but says nothing, waiting for him to come to her instead of forcing an explanation out of him. He appreciates it more than he can put into words. He can only hope she understands.
----------------
Dying in an explosion ten times in a row tends to throw a wrench in group morale.
Unwilling to kill themselves just to wake up in the safe house, they wordlessly agree to wait out the timer. The burnout has settled deep onto their bones; Pryde’s implicit threats after every check-in don’t help their mental state, either. If Ren and Phasma hadn’t made contact, Hux might have considered taking his chances with a desperate escape attempt instead of sticking around to see what punishment the First Order would dole out for their inevitable failure. It might prove the better end, at any rate.
“I am going back to my children after this,” Mitaka says with more conviction than Hux has been able to muster up about anything in months. “I don’t care what happens. I don’t care if they kill me for it—I won’t die without seeing my family again.”
“We are not dying,” Hux reassures him. With three real-world seconds to the scheduled kick, he explains everything—Ren and Phasma making contact, the bare-bones of the plan and Blysma’s carefully vague progress update texts, the precautions they’re taking to keep Mitaka’s family safe should something go wrong.
Mitaka cries silent, happy tears at the news. Rey gives Mitaka a warm smile and pulls him close.
“That’s it,” she tells Hux, rubbing at Mitaka’s arm in sympathy. “I’m not letting her take a job without me ever again.”
Raising a brow, “You would be announcing to everyone in the community that she’s the best leverage against you,” he points out, not unkindly. He understands the sentiment—truly, he does—but it’s woefully impractical. Not to mention the kind of commitment it would take.
Her eyes gleam, smile turning secretive in that way he’s learned not to trust. Reaching into her pocket with her free hand, “I was already going to do that,” she says airily, taking out a small, velvet box.
Ah. Fair enough, then.
----------------
Hux is above lying to his employers.
Rather, he likes to think he is. Dreamshare, sophisticated as it may be at its heart, is an underground science—as such, it attracts a certain crowd. In a community where lying through one’s teeth is a survival skill, Hux knows to look someone in the eye and spin a tale truer than the truth as well as the next crook; he just prefers to tell the truth as long as it will leave his head connected to his body.
As it happens, this is the last scheduled check-in before the deadline. Giving Pryde bad news now would be signing their death warrant.
When Hux reports their success, Pryde smiles. The sight haunts Hux’s nightmares for days.
----------------
Blysma’s communication request comes the night before the grand plan, unscheduled.
His mind racing with possibilities, he grabs the tablet sitting on his nightstand before the notification wakes the others, accepting the request with, “Hux speaking.” As far as he’s concerned, there’s nothing left to talk about. Phasma has already laid out all she could of the plan without tipping off the First Order; a recap now would do more harm than good.
If this is about a last-minute change—well. Adaptability is another survival skill in their line of work.
“I missed your birthday.”
Hux blinks at the screen in his hands. “I—yes.” By a couple of months, at this stage. Where did that come from? Surely Ren didn’t realise it only now? “If you contacted me to wish me a happy belated birthday…”
“Of course not. I—uh, I called to hear your voice.” Hux’s lungs tighten, all too aware of his heartbeat. “Since we never finished our conversation.”
Their conversation. The handful of words Hux has been turning over in his head for months, to no apparent meaning or answer.
He’s bloody desperate to ask and finally, finally find out; but they’ve waited this long. They can be patient a little longer. “This is neither the time nor the place,” Hux says, as gently as he’s able, biting down on the instinctive Ren at the end. Now would be the absolute worst time for a slip-up. “Whatever it was, you can tell me tomorrow. In person.”
“That’s just it,” Ren mutters. “The last time I tried to tell you, we kept getting cut-off until signal completely went away and I thought, it’s fine. I’ll be back in a few days, I’ll just tell him then. In person.” He laughs, a breathy, bitter sound. “But then…”
But then Ren couldn’t get back until a few weeks after—and when he did, Hux wasn’t there anymore.
He clears his throat to get out the lump lodged there. “Then you’ll just have to be there this time,” he says firmly—his point man voice. “Because I will be, and I won’t accept any excuses.”
After a long beat, “Yes, sir,” Ren says, a smile in his voice. “See you on the other side.”
“Sleep well.”
#Kylux Summer Fest 2020#Bad Things Happen Bingo#kylux#Armitage Hux#Kylo Ren#Rey#Dopheld Mitaka#Phasma#Star Wars#Cai does words#finished fics#I know I say this for every fic#but this fic was a ride#I can happily go back to my KBB fic now#not designed for the cynical
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I Can’t Dream Alone | Renjun
series timeline | playlist
summary: the sound of my lover, a feeling so strong
words: 6k+
category: siren!renjun, pirate!reader, fluff, angst, renjun said i shall call donghyuck squishy and he shall me my squishy, reader is kind of an asshole at first, so is renjun, a bit of one-sided renhyuck in there ngl, i did my best pls don’t be mean
warning(s): mentions of slavery/trafficking, reader is kind of a villain, so is renjun so there you go, attempted murder and vice versa, renjun is scary, this is an odd dynamic i do not think it is healthy at all so don’t go romanticizing it pls, donghyuck has given up and it breaks my heart
author note: *buzz lightyear voice* red flags. red flags everywhere. i do not believe there is one (1) healthy relationship in this story
Renjun is thirteen hundred years old in siren years (that’s thirteen in human years) when the siren’s treasure is stolen. They are pearls from his mother’s tail; her most prized ones. Everyone knows that the amount of pearls on a siren’s tail coincide to the amount of respect one has in the siren’s hierarchy. Renjun’s mother has the most, as the queen of the four seas.
After they were taken; torn from her tail, leaving her in agonizing pain, the grudge against humans began. Pirates, mostly, as they were the ones who took the pearls in the first place.
Renjun learned how to use his voice for evil (perhaps good, whatever way you look at it.)
There’s a song. There are vocalizations that draw humans into the unsafe waters. But it’s a tricky position, even for a siren, as the waves crash and careen against each other. As much as humans can die, sirens can too, and it soon becomes a full war over two small pearls.
Renjun, though just a young prince, is placed on the front lines. Not because he’s a good fighter, or has the guts to drag a man down to a watery grave. Rather, Renjun’s voice is the loudest, and it carries the farthest. So it’s Renjun who must stand (wade) at the frontlines and call the ships in.
Some sirens are killed. Others are taken captive. Then, a new ship never seen before arrives, and it manages to take out the remaining sirens, after braving the storm and taking on the sirens head on.
Renjun is the only one to escape, as far as he knows. He swims away from his home as fast as he can, hiding underwater in the seaweed and behind torrents. If any pirate sees him escaping, he’s dead meat. Siren’s gills filter too slowly for them to stay underwater all the time, so he does his best to stay beneath the surface until his gills reject it completely.
When he’s finally farther away, close to the Western Sea (Renjun can tell because it’s the muggiest sea, and the water is becoming a murky green), Renjun finds a small cave opening. The opening of the cave is underwater, but when Renjun swims in, he realizes that there’s a small air pocket for him to breath from. He floats atop the surface, willing his heavy tail not to sink him.
And then he cries out for his mother, for his kingdom, and for the home he has lost so quickly.
Renjun doesn’t want to be alone forever.
-
Renjun is seventeen hundred years old in siren years (that’s seventeen in human years) when he meets the human prince of the Eastern Kingdom. He knows this stranger is a prince because there’s a special brand in the junction of his neck. Slave merchants use the brands to keep track of their more important (valuable) slaves. He knows the prince is from the Eastern Kingdom because of his skin’s scent. It’s the same salty and clear scent of the Eastern Sea.
The boy has to be his age. He’s certainly close to death, his body limp over a random piece of driftwood. His entire face dips beneath the surface at one point, and Renjun notices the way the boy’s adam’s apple bops when he finds air again.
He’s swallowing the seawater. Humans can’t do that. Well, they aren’t supposed to. They’re supposed to drink fresh water and stay out of the sun. Otherwise their skin gets raw and it hurts and– and it looks just like the prince’s face.
Renjun briefly thinks about dragging the boy under. Just five minutes, and the boy will become the sea. Renjun can go about his day and not worry about this random prince he’s come across.
Except... he looks fairly innocent. And the brand looks infected. His skin looks horrible, and Renjun knows he’s dehydrated.
So he goes against his nature and wraps his arms around the boy.
He’ll find a more human-friendly cave. Then, perhaps some fresh water and food.
Renjun isn’t sure what he’s doing, he just knows that he doesn’t want to be alone anymore.
-
You’re seventeen years old when you get the siren’s treasure. The two pearls have been fashioned into cuff links. At first, you felt kind of bad, cheating the clueless couple out of a literal treasure. But it’s a legacy your father has been searching for for years, and you’ll be damned if you pass up the opportunity to make him proud.
It’s hard making the roughest pirate in the sea proud. Known as Mortem, or death, his name rings true.
You’re at the docks, fiddling with the cuff links in a struggle to get them off of the coat. Your father promised he’d be back after his own search for the treasure.
Of course, it’s been nearly a year now, and you’ve been left on land. It’s not because your father doesn’t want to spend his time with you, you’re sure. It’s just that he knows that living on land (in one place) can help an adolescent’s growth.
That’s why he hasn’t visited you in years. You’re sure of it.
You finally get the cuff links off. You toss the coat aside and fasten the pearls into your waistcoat. If your father won’t come get you, you’ll have to find him.
Only you don’t, because you can hear two fishermen speaking in hushed tones about the politics over in the Eastern Kingdom. “The mourning period is over, so I assume they’ll crown the prince’s cousin some time this year.”
“Mourning?” You speak up, alerting the two men of your presence. “The Prince is dead?”
That can’t be. Last you remember, your father had sold the boy out to a couple of slave merchants off the Western port. Then you were dropped off here, and your father left in search of the treasure. There’s no way anyone found the prince, as no one really escapes the slave trades. It’s a secret society with all these corrupt ways of hiding people from ever seeing the light of day again. It’s sick, but it’s how your father makes money, and you like to pretend that it’s more merciful than killing people.
“Not the prince,” the fisherman says. “Ol’ Mortem. The nasty pirate that kidnapped the prince. With him gone, all leads are gone. The Eastern Kingdom still needs a reigning monarch, so the King and Queen can’t really afford the luxury of looking any longer.“
“M-Mortem?”
“Yeah. Finally died off.”
“Oh,” you whisper. That’s why your father hasn’t come to get you.
He’ll never be coming to get you again.
“All for a treasure,” the other fisherman grunts. “‘Took the boy because his ring is made of three pearls. Figured it was the famous siren’s treasure.”
The pearls feel heavier in your waistcoat. Your heart feels heavy in your chest.
You want to ask how he died, where he died, and who died with him. You want to know if there’s anyone in the crew left, or if you’re all alone.
“The things people will do for some money,” the fisherman grunts in disgust.
“Indeed,” you say, voice catching on the way out.
-
You are eighteen years old when you finally hear the siren’s call. You’ve been sailing for nearly a year, struggling to find the famed sirens everyone talks about. And just as you’re beginning to think they’re nothing but a myth, you hear it.
The voice is cold and shrill, soft and high, enchanting and terrifying all at the same time. It pulls you in before you can even comprehend the fogginess in your brain.
You sail your dingy little boat into the crashing waves. The wind howls, and the sky suddenly seems darker than it’s ever been. You can still hear the song, loud and clear. It seeps into your ears and drifts its way into your chest. You can feel it in your soul: feel the wordless song calling you into the unknown.
And there’s a cove. You didn’t see it before, but your vision clears just long enough to see it nestled against a small island. You steer your boat towards it, and in turn, towards the sirens song.
When you reach the edge, you jump into the water and creep towards the opening of the cave. If there’s a siren in here, they can give you the siren’s treasure, but they could also kill you mercilessly. You’re not exactly sure how to navigate the two options.
You see him before he sees you. His tail is an effervescent pink color. The end is curled into long ribbons, torn up by rocks and whatever else nature must throw at such a delicate surface. And down the back is a trail of pearls, all different sizes and shapes, similar to the ones in your waist coat. The pearls disappear with his tail, melding into pale, taunt skin. The junctions of his spine stick out of his skin, and you briefly ponder the healthy weight of a siren, and what their diet is like.
He’s on his stomach, gaze pointed away from you. With his chin in his hands, he gazes out the other side of the opening. Maybe he hasn’t noticed you yet.
But the he slaps his tail against the water, and the sound reverberates across the cave. You shriek in fear.
“You’re not very subtle,” he says.
Then he turns to you. Seeing his face for the first time sort of makes you wish you could freeze time. Surely it’s the spell of the siren, and not the fact that his eyes are small and clear. Hues of brown and black seem to swirl together in his eyes, and you are memorized up until the moment he blinks. Because then he smiles, and you realize that his teeth seem quite sharp and dangerous.
You are still in uncharted territory.
“I’m Y/n,” you say. The shallow water of the cave sloshes against your worn boats, soaking your tights underneath. “I have something for you.”
His lips curl into a frown. “I don’t accept things from humans.”
“I have–“ You pull the pearls out of your waistband and hand them to the siren. “I have the siren’s treasure.”
The siren scowls at the pearls in your grip. Then, without warning, he snatches them out of your hand and disappears beneath the shallow surface. You watch the colors of his tail fade as he swims deeper into the water. “Wait!” You run into the water, floundering at the awkwardness of the it not being deep enough. “I need that treasure!”
When the siren doesn’t surface, you groan. “Fine, you want to play the hard way?” You take a deep breath and hold it.
Then, you dive into the deeper part of the pool.
-
You struggle to keep your eyes open as you navigate your way into the murky water. Finally, you notice a flash of pink to your left, so you trail behind it.
The siren unknowingly leads you towards another break in the surface. You gasp for air as soon as you can, struggling to find strength. Your lungs burn and your eyes sting, but you believe it’s worth it when you see what this siren is hiding.
Prince Donghyuck.
It’s him, albeit roughed up and looking worse for wear. But he’s alive, and he’s curled up in the corner of the cave, warming himself up to what small fire he could conjure up in the muggy cave. He’s shivering, but there’s a blanket around his shoulders. Granted, it’s crusted with sea salt, but you assume at this point, it’s better than nothing.
“Prince Donghyuck,” you finally breathe, forgetting the siren’s presence.
The prince lifts his head immediately. Then, when his eyes find yours, he chokes back a sour cry. “It’s you. You’re the one who lured me out of the castle. You said you were a messenger.” His voice cracks at the end, and you can sense the pain. The lost innocence.
You’ve never actually seen what happens to the people your father captures. But now it’s being presented to you in a harsh light, and you have to face the fact that you put him here. “I’m- I’m sorry-“
“Save it,” the prince croaks. “It doesn’t matter if you are. He won’t let me leave.”
You turn back to the siren. He’s circling you beneath the water, and the only reason you know that is because his pearl-crested tail flips angrily, splashing water into your face. You wade nervously. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know,” Donghyuck whines in a way that says he’s all too familiar with this circumstance. “People have found me, and he kills them. If I try to escape, he pulls me back in, and I’m too weak to fight him. I can’t get home.”
He breaks at that. His shoulders slump forward and he leans against the damp cave wall. “It’s hopeless.”
“Wait,” you say. “If he has killed everyone else...”
Just as you realize what is about to happen, the siren slaps the fin of his tail against the back of your head. You fall into the water, head aching. There’s a burning urge behind your eyes to just close them and fall into a peaceful slumber beneath the sea.
However, you’re still owed a treasure.
Just as the siren circles around, baring his teeth like he’s going to eat you, you pull your dagger out of its hidden place in your boot and point it towards the siren.
He freezes, eyeing the blade. Then he hisses at it, teeth bared. The hiss pierces through your head, even though you’re underwater. It’s shrill and high, more of a shriek than anything, and you’re sure that this is one of those kill-or-be-killed situations.
So you jab the blade in front of you, and slash at the siren when he wraps his tail around you. He squeezes, and it feels like you’ll never breathe again. You stab his tail over and over against until he finally releases, batting you away like a mere gnat.
Still, he’s strong, so you slam against the rocky wall. You can practically feel your ribs break.
You reach the surface and choke on your own intake of air. “Help,” you beg the prince, meeting his tear-filled eyes. “He’ll listen to you, right? He likes you?”
You’re dragged under again. The siren’s nails rake down your chest, piercing your already cracked rips. You want to shout, but the lack of oxygen is making you far too lightheaded to think anymore.
You close your eyes, waiting for the inevitable end.
But it doesn’t come.
Instead, you hear a voice shout a name. “Renjun!”
And the siren lets go, leaving you to weakly try to make it back to the surface.
You feel arms around you, and you let the lack of oxygen make you believe that you are being saved.
-
Renjun knows bloodlust. He knows the deep carnal urge to kill whoever approaches him. He knows that as soon as you get the chance, you’re going to kill him, so he has to kill you first.
He can only trust Donghyuck. He saved Donghyuck. He took care of him. He practically brought him back from the dead. The only reason Renjun isn’t dying from loneliness is because Donghyuck keeps him company.
In a way, they keep each other alive.
Donghyuck always begs him not to kill; begs him to let the misfortunes humans go. Renjun always tunes him out, because if someone lives, they take Donghyuck home. If Donghyuck is home, Renjun is left alone.
He refuses to be alone.
But Donghyuck has never had the strength to pull someone out of the water before. He’s never tried.
Yet now here he is, hunched over the new human, helping them drink water from canteen.
It’s freshwater that Renjun stole from the mainland. That’s another thing. Renjun has been risking his life trailing up mainland rivers to steal water and food off of smaller fishing boats.
This is how Donghyuck repays him? Rescuing a nothing of a pirate?
Renjun scowls as he peaks up through the surface. He’s baring his teeth, though the two humans can’t see.
Donghyuck is talking softly to the human, in a way he has never spoken to Renjun. He speaks to Renjun like he’s afraid. But that’s impossible. He can’t be afraid of the person who saved him.
Renjun scowls and sinks back beneath the water.
The pirate wants the treasure. There is no treasure, as far as Renjun knows. It’s just a myth made up by pirates. And karma sure does come back to bite, because now this pirate has risked their life for nothing. They won’t get any treasure, and they won’t get out of here alive.
-
“I have to get you out of here,” you whisper.
It’s nighttime, and water drips into the cave lake like the ominous ticking of a clock. The siren (“Renjun”, the prince calls him) hasn’t been around since he tried to kill you. As long as you stay away from the water, you’re fine, so Prince Donghyuck wraps you in his sea-crusted blanket and huddles you close to the cave wall. “Why?” He licks his dry lips. “So you can sell me out to your father again? Maybe another slave merchant?”
“My father is dead.”
Donghyuck purses his lips. “Can’t say I’m upset.”
“Didn’t ask you to be,” You snap. “Now do you want to make it out of this cave alive? Or are we going to continue bickering when there’s a siren with superhuman strength keep us from leaving?”
“He’s attached to me,” Donghyuck whispers. “You might can escape, if you’re sneaky, but he has eyes on me. He won’t let me go.”
The prince looks weak. So weak compared to the moment you and your father captured him. You remember a spitfire of a boy; someone who fought with every ounce of resolve he had. You remember his tanned skin and his lean muscle. And now, he’s covered in scars and bruises, and there’s barely any meat on his bones. He’s weak; voice quiet when it used to be so loud.
He’s not even giving himself a chance. He’s accepted himself here.
“You’re getting out before I do,” you say. “It was a mistake to take you.”
“Found out that I didn’t have the treasure after all?” Donghyuck snaps, “The one I told you I didn’t know anything about?”
“Yes, that one,” you admit. “Apparently there is no treasure, because I returned it to the siren—“
“Renjun,” Donghyuck provides.
“Renjun. I returned it to him and he gave me nothing in return.”
“That’s what you get for being greedy,” Donghyuck murmures.
“I can get you home,” you say. “We just have to trick the siren.”
“He’s lonely,” Donghyuck says. “Sometimes, if I stay awake long enough, he tells me stories. How there once was an entire fleet of sirens. And now, he’s the last one. He just wants some company.”
You stare at the siren as he circles the lake. The pearls on his tail reflect the light of the moon as it streams through the cracks of the cave wall. “He’ll get some company. It just won’t be with you.”
-
You are eighteen years old and you sell your soul to the devil. Okay, not the devil, but a terrifying siren with sharp teeth. You figure out quickly that he doesn’t want the prince here specifically, he just wants someone here. He wants someone to fill the holes where silence seeps in.
So you communicate to Renjun that you’ll stay with him. “You have to let Donghyuck go.”
“He’s my friend,” Renjun says. His eyes have softened after a few days of getting used to your presence. “He can’t leave.”
“He has a family,” you say. “They miss him.”
“Families die.” Renjun slaps his tail against the side of the lake. “I want him here. With me.”
“I’ll stay here with you instead,” you bargain.
Renjun cocks his head to the side in confusion. He pulls his upper body out of the water and lies on his stomach. He props his chin atop his hands and blinks up at you.
You reckon that he’s kind of pretty when he isn’t trying to kill you.
“I saved him.” He says, glaring at you. “He’s mine.”
“He isn’t yours,” you balk. “You can’t own someone.”
“Tell that to the merchants you traded me to,” Donghyuck says from the back, his glare matching Renjun’s.
“I’m trying to make it right!” You try to defend yourself. “Listen, Renjun, If you let Donghyuck go, I’ll stay here with you, okay? For as long as you want.”
“Forever,” Renjun says.
“See?” Donghyuck sighs. “It’s impossible.”
“I’ll stay,” you say. Perhaps Donghyuck thinks you are brave for sacrificing your life for his. Perhaps he thinks you are some type of martyr.
But truth be told, you’re planning on killing the siren as soon as you can. Then you’ll sell his pearls, and start a new life for yourself. Perhaps in the Western Kingdom. You haven’t decided yet.
Renjun allows Donghyuck to leave. He even carries him to the closest shore: the Western port.
And when he comes back, he hisses at you, and warns you to leave him alone.
“Gladly,” you mutter, shivering in the dark.
-
Renjun misses Donghyuck. And he knows he shouldn’t love a human enough to miss them, but Donghyuck was never mean. He never fought back and never raised his voice.
And Renjun doesn’t like you. You’re brash and rude and you fought back when Renjun tried to kill you. He doesn’t trust you at all, and the only real reason he let Donghyuck go is because he knew how much the boy wanted to leave.
You? You could starve to death for all Renjun cares. He won’t be helping you with anything. No food, no water, no hints on how to keep warm in the dampness of the cave. Renjun would rather kill you than live in the same vicinity. “I don’t want you here,” he says rather bluntly.
“Then let me go,” you retort. You’ve been pacing back and forth for the past hour, rubbing your hands up and down your arms to keep warm. You lean down and dip your boat in the water, just to splash the siren.
Renjun scowls at you, water droplets falling down his eyelashes. “I can’t.”
“Why?” You taunt, and a Renjun finds that your voice is quite annoying when it echoes off of the cave walls. “You’ll be oh so lonely?”
Renjun swims around until the end of his tail is facing you. He lifts it up, then slaps it down as harshly as he can. The water splashes all over you, causing you to shriek in anger.
Renjun laughs. “Ha!”
You kick more water at him. “You better keep your guard up, siren boy.”
Renjun knows it’s intended fully as a threat, and you are most likely planning his death right now. Still, he can’t help but stick his tongue out at you almost playfully. It’s been a long time since Donghyuck ever splashed at him, and Renjun likes the way you keep at it, as if it’s a little game for the two of you.
That night, you sleep as far from the water’s edge as you can. Renjun keeps his eyes above water, waiting for you to fall asleep, so that he can too.
“I know you’re watching me,” you say, keeping your eyes toward the moonbeams above you. “It’s weird and creepy, so stop.”
“I’m keeping guard,” Renjun lifts his mouth above of the water to speak. “So... too bad.”
“What? You think I’ll try to escape? I made a promise, didn’t I?”
“Pirates have been known to break promises,” Renjun states.
“Fair,” you say. You fold your arms behind your head and look at the siren. “My ribs are still burning, you know. Why did you try so hard to kill me?”
Renjun shrugs. He can feel goosebumps rise across his bony shoulders when they’re lifted out of the water. “Everyone who comes here wants to take Donghyuck.”
“Why did you let him go then? If you care so much about him?”
“He told me to stop. I don’t have another reason.”
“You like Donghyuck that much?”
“He’s all I have.” Renjun clears his throat and stares down at the murky water. “Had.“
“I suppose this is where I’m supposed to say I’m sorry,” you conclude. “But he’s a prince, and he belongs back on the mainland, with his family and friends.”
“/I’m/ his friend,” Renjun says. “I took care of him.”
“Against his will!” You shout at him, slapping your palms against the damp rocks. “You can’t be a friend to someone you’re holding captive.”
“How else do I make them stay?” Renjun can feel his voice – alone with his resolve – breaking. “How do I make sure they won’t leave me?”
You give him an unreadable look. The scrutiny in your eyebrows is certainly readable, but the questionability is in the way your eyes seem saddened. “I’m going to sleep,” you say. “But there’s a saying on the mainland. If you love something, set it free, and if it comes back, it’s yours. If it doesn’t, then it was never yours in the first place.”
Before Renjun can reply, you turn your back on him.
-
Renjun brings you an apple.
It’s amazing really, because your ribs hurt like hell, and the rocky floor of the cave does nothing to support that. You would try swimming, to loosen up the ache in your muscles, but you’re still a bit skeptical of what Renjun might do.
He brings you an apple.
You eat it as slowly as you can, struggling to savor the taste that you know will disappear just as quickly as it came. Still, you can’t help but feel a burst of gratefulness in your heart.
Then, anger. He’s still holding you captive. It’s not like he’s doing you a favor by bringing you one (count ‘em. one.) apple.
“I’m going to set you free.” Renjun says as soon as you finish the red fruit.
“Very funny, siren boy,” you toss the apple core at his head, and Renjun bares his teeth at you.
“I mean it,” he growls. “I thought about what you said, and you’re right. I should set you free and see if you come back. Just like I did to Donghyuck.”
“Only because I made you.”
“Do you want to leave or not?” Renjun growls, annoyed at the way you seem to nitpick his every move. “Go ahead and get going. The storm is only going to get worse.”
You make it to the Western Port in one piece, though your lungs are burning, and your ribs are on fire. You collapse onto the deck and close your eyes, hoping for some kind of relief to the pain.
Then. “Oi? Another human washed up on shore?”
“Just like the prince.”
“You reckon they know the prince?”
“Why don’t you ask them?”
“I think they’re dead.”
You’re lifted off, carried to someplace you hope has dry blankets. “I’m not dead,” you whisper.
You can only hope they hear.
-
News of Donghyuck’s return is all anyone can talk about. You hear the newsboy call out the news from outside of the apothecary. There is a minimum of four different remedies in your bag, for everything from bruised ribs to a nasty cough (which you got thanks to the dampness of the cave.)
According to the newspapers, Donghyuck is still being treated, and he won’t be attending any royal duties any time soon. He won’t even be transported out of the Western Kingdom until King Kun gives him the go ahead.
He also hasn’t outed you as the person who kidnapped him, so that’s a plus. You know it’s only a matter of time, though, so you do your best to keep close to the docks. You never know when you might have to make a quick escape.
You rent a shack just off the Western Sea. It’s so close to the shore that the morning tide creeps in under the front door. You got it for an extremely good price, however, so you try not to complain about formalities.
You boil a pot of broth over a fire pit in front of the shack. It’ll be soaked in the morning, and you’ll have to find more kindling and wood to make your breakfast in the morning. However, it keeps you good company tonight, as the moon draws the tide further and further away.
You hear him before you see him. It’s that same song, haunting in the dark of the night. It’s a call. It’s desperate, it’s lonely, and it’s right on the docks.
And if any merchant finds Renjun near the docks, he’s going to wish you had killed him when you had the chance.
You rush to the docks, following the voice. “Renjun!” You call. “Renjun! It’s me!”
You stand at the edge of the dock in silence, waiting for any sign that Renjun can hear you.
The water is still. The surface is unmoving. Not a single ripple. And then, you see it in your peripheral vision.
Renjun’s head peaks out of the water. “Where’s Donghyuck?”
“Hello to you, too,” you scoff.
Renjun swims closer to you, so you lower yourself into a criss-cross position. You jerk your thumb towards the forest behind you. “He’s in the castle getting treated for all the ailments you bestowed upon him.”
“Can you tell him that I’m sorry?” Renjun blinks up at you. Once again his eyes look childlike and innocent, like he isn’t some murderous entity of the sea.
“I’m not going anywhere near him,” you resign. “He’ll tell them that I’m the one who kidnapped him in the first place. They’ll have me hung! And when they find out that you kept him this long, they’ll sell your tail to make shoes.”
Renjun bares his teeth towards the big, empty forest. “I don’t like humans.”
You grimace. “Well I don’t like demon fish who try to kill me and refuse to get me my treasure, so I guess we’re both out of luck.”
Renjun pouts. He sinks straight down into the water.
You think that’s that, but then he rides up again. “I’m not a demon fish,” he grumbles.
“A treacherous water-dweller,” you amend.
Then Renjun smiles – sharp teeth and all – and you think it’s rather beautiful. Not in a siren way. It’s not bewitching or entrancing. Rather, it’s boyish. It’s like Renjun is a human villager, smiling at you because you’ve made a joke. Nothing more. Nothing less.
You like it. “Come back soon and keep me company,” you say. “Just don’t sing. It’ll call other people in. Just hang out by that shack over there when the tide is high.”
Renjun nods. “Maybe I will.”
-
Renjun likes it when you leave fish for him. It started the second night he visited, and after that, Renjun has always had a small pile of fish waiting for him on the beach.
“I feel like I’m training a hunting dog,” you bemoan. You’re wading in the water with him, and Renjun thinks it’s amazing that you haven’t tried to kill him yet. Instead, you’re lugging around the fish that Renjun manages to catch, keeping them safe to cook up for dinner tonight.
“Is that an insult?” Renjun slaps his tail against the water, splashing you before you can even reply.
“Listen, you devil-bred dolphin-“ you start, diving for Renjun’s tail.
Renjun has an obvious advantage in the water, but you do your best to keep up as he darts away, trailing a jet dream of bubbles in his wake.
By the time you catch up, Renjun is lounging on a rock. His bare torso is stretched out in the sun, and he seems to be asleep.
You swim over to his face and study the way his eyelashes flutter against the tops of his cheeks.
Renjun opens his eyes then. “Hi.”
“Hi,” you whisper. “I lost the fish trying to keep up with you.”
“That’s okay,” Renjun amends. He closes his eyes again. “It was your dinner, anyway.”
You splash at him, giggling lowly when he frowns at the water now dripping down his face. “Take that, you fiend!”
“Oh, you’re gonna get it,” Renjun says. He flips over and falls into the water less-than-gracefully. Then, he swims up to you and wraps his arms around your torso.
You shriek as he lifts you high and unceremoniously tosses you into the water. “I hate you,” you say, shoving Renjun’s chest when he advances towards you again.
“I hate you back,” Renjun says, no bite in his words.
You wade closer to him and press your palms flat against his chest. “You’re despicable.”
Renjun wraps his arms around you. “You’re a tyrant. I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.”
You kiss him. He laughs against your lips, a melody you’ve never heard before. You chase his lips, trying to capture the sound forever in your mind.
You think about Renjun loving Donghyuck, and about you not really loving anyone. You think about the fact that Renjun kept coming back to you, even when he knew Donghyuck wouldn’t be there.
You wonder how the two of you are connected, and if sirens can even feel things the way humans can.
Renjun strokes a hand down your hair, wetting it more. “You’re thinking,” he says. He doesn’t tell you to stop. He just acknowledges it.
“You don’t love me.”
“I know,” Renjun says. “You don’t love me, either.”
You kiss him harder, and his sharp teeth brush against the flesh of your bottom lip, making you jump back in shock. Then, soft, closed-mouthed kisses. Renjun presses his lips against your wet skin, soaking in the sun and the sea and the scent of your skin.
The sharp sound of a bugle interrupts the two of you. It comes from the castle, and from what you’ve read, the sound of the bugle means that Donghyuck is being sent home today.
Renjun must know too, because he visibly deflates. He drops his forehead onto your shoulder. “I’m never going to see him again.”
“Probably not,” you say. “It’s for the best.”
“Yeah,” Renjun whispers. “If they don’t come back, they were never yours in the first place.”
“That’s right.” You say. “He wasn’t anyone’s but the Eastern Kingdom’s.”
“Do you think someone is waiting for him there?” Renjun looks longingly towards the mainland.
You wonder what’s going through his head. You wonder how much he truly cares for the young prince. “I hope so.”
Renjun sighs. “Me too. Really.”
-
You are nineteen years old, and Renjun is eighteen hundred years old (still eighteen in human years) when Donghyuck calls for the two of you to visit him down in the Eastern harbor.
When he asks for help in dismantling the slave merchant’s system, you dive in. Donghyuck grants you both clemency across the four seas, and you recall as much information as you can remember your father revealing to you.
Though everything is in code, with Renjun’s help, it doesn’t take long to figure out that the codes are short for more unknown geographical regions in the seas.
Donghyuck sends his first fleet out, with Renjun swimming alongside and you manning the helm.
You make your first proper raid where you release people rather than capture them, and Renjun finds a few stray sirens trapped in tanks.
Renjun meets the person Donghyuck loves, and he doesn’t bare his teeth at them the way you thought he might would. He’s kind with them, as he is kind to Donghyuck, and you think they both have healed from the pain.
Renjun lives with his fellow sirens nowadays. He’s a lot more comfortable cohabitating with other fish-creatures. You live on the Eastern harbor, with other sailers. They have the same spirits pirates do, but they don’t take people captive, and they don’t take what isn’t theirs.
You’ll have to get used to it, but it feels like a positive improvement.
Sometimes Renjun brings you seashells. Other times he splashes you with his tail.
You’re both moving on from Donghyuck in your own ways, but you’re thankful that in the end, you can come back to each other.
#dreamwritersnet#nct au#nct fluff#nct scenarios#nct scenario#renjun fluff#renjun au#renjun angst#renjun scenario#renjun scenarios#seasons au#always return au#destwrites
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Yin & Yang
Part 1: Memories
Pairings: Ledger Joker x Reader
Warnings: Violence, Smut, Angst
Summary: Just a tension/smut/angst ridden piece about J x The reader. J goes looking for the reader after losing her years ago, and surprise surprise there is some smut. This is what I did with my Tuesday night y’all. Hope someone out there enjoys this.
Other Parts: Part 2, Part 3 (preview); Ao3 link
You were having that dream again. The one where you’re 10 years old and it’s almost Christmas. The one where you find your family dead.
It’s in an estate, a massive manor house you don’t know well, somewhere outside the Gotham city walls. You’re walking down the grand staircase barefoot, the elegant deep teak wood cold to the touch. Your eyes are caught by the two gigantic floor to ceiling windows framing the doorway at the bottom of the steps and the blizzard of white snow falling heavily on the great front lawn.
But it’s not the snow that grabs your attention, not really. It’s the red that’s interspersed in its banks that grow heavier and heavier by the second. It’s like a painting, like mutilated polka dots, and you can see that the red is spilling out from bodies. From the bodies of the guards on patrol.
And then it’s the staircase that draws your attention back in. A trickle of something wet in the corner of your eye. A tingle at the back of your neck when you’re suddenly aware of how quiet it is. And all at once you’re aware of what’s on the staircase, your snow-captive eyes having missed it before: dead people.
Three bodies stretched out along the stairs, reaching, straining desperately toward the next step, their eyes open and in brutal anguish. You recognize one as a maid, another as a butler and the third as your great aunt, hideous, her mouth forming a post-mortem howl of terror.
And the bodies continue, at the bottom of the steps. An older cousin, another maid, and you cry out as you see your beloved German Shepherd stabbed and lifeless beside the door, a small knife lodged deeply in his side. Adrenaline coursing through you, you run down the rest of the steps and throw your arms over his body, weeping. You lift your head up, tears blurring your vision to see more bodies to the right and left of you.
You stand up and start running through the rooms, seeing aunts and uncles and cousins and even your grandparents, dead, dead, dead. You start calling out, your voice rasping and hopeless for your parents. You run faster and faster through the rooms past dead scullery maids and cooks and guards and your little cousin Timmy, who you just built a snowman with that afternoon. All of them, dead.
Finally you see them, and you start sobbing as the hope is stamped out of your heart violently. Your father is cradling your mother, as if to shelter her from whatever blows were coming. Their blood is wet and spilling out in a circle around them and as you kneel and crawl over to them, your hands and knees become coated with it. You reach out a hand to touch your mother’s face, a small bloody handprint left on her as you collapse next to them.
You jolt awake in bed, your heart rate racing. It always takes a moment to come out of these nightmares, and you try to steady your breathing, making note of where you are and grounding yourself in reality. It helps that Copper must have heard you call out in your sleep, and he jumps onto the bed and nuzzles you with his wet nose. You take a deep breath and run your fingers through his soft black and gold fur.
“Hi boy. Don’t worry, I just had a bad dream.” Copper isn’t convinced and curls up close to you, warmth radiating off of him.
It’s okay. It was just a dream. You say to yourself. You look at the clock on your bedside table. 5:00am. You throw yourself back onto your pillow groaning, debating whether or not to try to fall back asleep, but you think better of it and get up.
You clap your hands and your bedroom is immediately illuminated in a warm glow. You look around you at the familiar objects, stacks of books and notebooks strew across the room, further reassuring yourself that it was just a dream and you are perfectly safe. Your large bed, overflowing with countless pillows, an unfortunate obsession of yours, is empty of course except for a very comfortable looking German Shepherd snuggling into the covers.
“Come on Copper.” You say with a gentle smile, and he hops down and trots out after you as you walk down the hall to the kitchen. Your parents had left you the family estate in the country after their tragic passing, but you couldn’t bear to live out alone in the middle of nowhere. Especially considering the last time you had been out in the country.
You elected to buy a small but elegant apartment in the city, preferring the constant noise and knowledge that you were never alone to the emptiness of the family estate, which was carefully kept in mint condition by a caretaker and his family, though you never went out to visit it. You have no need for large spaces, tending not to have many friends or really let anyone in at all. It’s just Copper and you, and that’s fine.
You scratch him behind his ears before turning the coffee maker on. As you wait for your morning dose of caffeine, you sit at the kitchen island and look out through the massive windows overlooking Gotham, watching countless lights from other apartment buildings wink on one by one. You shiver in the cold, a light snow starting to fall outside. You’re really surprised you had the dream again, you can’t remember the last time you had it. Your thoughts start wandering back to that day.
It was so long ago now, that you imagine the details in it are probably not reality. Goodness knows, you couldn’t describe it to the Gotham City police when they finally showed up nearly a day later, having waited for the heavy blizzard to pass to get out to the house. You’re grateful that part of your memory is missing too, not wanting to remember what it must have been like, alone for a full day in a mansion of dead bodies.
When the police had reached you they asked a million questions, not understanding how you survived the slaughter. At first they assumed you had hidden yourself well, but the one part of that horrific incident you did remember proved otherwise. And it left the cops dumbfounded. You remember being in your room alone, lying on the ground and drawing something with such intense concentration, you nearly didn’t hear the door to your room open.
All you remembered was that he was tall, and seemed young, couldn’t have been more than five or six years older than you. You couldn’t recall a single physical feature, only that he smelled of something very strong, like some sort of paint and gunpowder. You had slowly gotten to your knees and looked up at him. You remember being fascinated, though you didn’t know about what, and that he had knelt down and roughly grabbed the picture you had been drawing, staring at it intensely. You didn’t remember being afraid, but you could feel the terrible dark depth and breadth of evil wafting off of him.
Needless to say, that didn’t help the police very much. They started looking for carpenters when you mentioned paint. They had been almost angry with you, the fact that you were the only survivor of a 40 person massacre and had even seen one of the killers (they assumed it must have been a gang to murder that many people) and you couldn’t remember a single useful detail. There had been a kinder, older cop who had hushed them away, yelling at them that you were clearly traumatized. He had given you a blanket, and at least everyone left you alone for a while after that.
Your coffee’s ready. As you pour yourself a cup, you suddenly feel nauseous, without the faintest idea why. It’s like an odd unsettling twisting in your stomach, something like dread. The ominous foreboding seems to spread through you like waves, swirling and crashing inside you until it consumes you entirely. You shiver.
“Okay Copper, now I’m certain I’m going insane. First thing on the to-do list today is find a friend. Any person will do. I need to talk to someone who isn’t a dog.” Copper barks and wags his tail as though in agreement, and you manage a half smile, though the sinking feeling in your gut doesn’t go away.
So no coffee. Maybe a shower then to cool off. You think, walking to your bathroom. The dream must have gotten me worse than usual. You shake your head, again trying to remind yourself of realities. You’re in your twenties, you have a great job at a top tier financial firm (as a side note your stilettos do sound pretty fucking awesome on the marble floors in the office), you’re a badass independent woman who basically raised herself from age 10, your only friend is a dog… okay stop listing realities. You smirk to yourself as you get in the shower.
Minutes later you’re out and quickly combing through your hair before throwing on a pair of black lace panties and an oversized Black Sabbath tee shirt, because fuck it, it’s Sunday, and you don’t need to impress anyone. The sun is coming through the big glass windows and lighting your apartment up in a warm, early morning glow. You start humming to yourself already feeling better after the shower, when you round the corner into the kitchen and notice the coffee is gone.
Fuck.
You freeze. There is no doubt in your mind that someone is in your apartment. You curse yourself for ignoring the feeling before. You’re still debating where to run to, when one of the white swivel chairs where you like to read swivels around to face you.
Who, or what more accurately, that is grinning at you through a malicious smirk that chills you to the bone is someone you’ve seen any number of times on the television.
The Joker is here, in your apartment.
Wearing his quintessential purple trench coat, suit and green vest, his hair a dyed green mess, he is an absolute enigma. His face is covered in white grease paint, making the black cavernous circles around his dark eyes even more terrifying. The color of his eyes are something blacker than black, the color at once pitch darkness and emitting a kaleidoscope of obsidian shadow and variation capable of portraying a vast array of sadistic emotion.
He’s leaning forward in the chair that’s clearly much too small for his domineering broad-shouldered and tall body. From the look of him seated he must be at least 6’3. He’s holding the coffee cup in one hand haphazardly while the other dons a gun, lax in his hand. His smile is painted a viscerally bloody red, a color you have ingrained in your own memory all too well, and it sweeps up his defined cheekbones along his notorious scars to create a cheshire grin.
The Joker casually swirls the gun in his hand, a clear warning for you not to do anything stupid, and throws his legs up onto the coffee table in front of him, crossing them comfortably and leaning back in the chair.
“Nice of you to, uh, pour me a coffee sweetheart-ah.” He enunciates the word and flicks his tongue out over the wishbone scar splitting his lip. “Could have done with some eggs too, but-t we can’t have everything, now can we?”
Compelled by lord only knows what force, you find your legs suddenly walking towards him. You want to scream at yourself to stop moving, but your feet pad toward the chair opposite of him. He watches you as you move with a near predatory glare that would make any sane person pick up and run the other direction.
You reach the chair and sit down, crossing your legs. You have no idea where the confidence comes from, but your voice comes out strong.
“What are you doing in my apartment?”
The Joker eyes you with amusement. Uncrossing his legs from the table, he sits forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. You can almost feel the heat radiating off of his body.
“You, uh, invited me.” He looks you dead in your eyes and you feel unexpectedly exposed. You’ve been successful at keeping people at a distance, but the way The Joker is looking into your eyes it’s like he’s reading every tiny emotion, fear, and desire, some you may not even know yourself.
You feel vulnerable, and you blink away, unable to hold the eye contact. You try to shake off the way he seemed to peel back your protective layers and look into what was underneath it all.
“I most certainly did not.”
You think you see a different emotion cross over his face, something like anger, but more sensitive, almost like heartbreak, but it moves so quickly that you don’t have a chance to catch what it is. The Joker takes a large swallow of the coffee before throwing the ceramic mug onto the ground, breaking it instantly and causing you to jump from the sudden noise.
“Don’t argue with me doll.” His voice is cold and dangerous, and looking at the gun swinging lazily from his hand, you’re reminded of the reality of your current predicament.
You steady yourself from his sudden outburst, taking a small breath, and it dawns on you that you haven’t heard Copper all this time. Your words come out biting and vicious, surprising even yourself.
“What have you done with my dog?” You nearly snarl at him.
The Joker raises an eyebrow and smirks at you, doing nothing to calm the fears that start swirling inside of you, flashes of your lost childhood pet invading your mind.
“Oh, you’re a feisty little thing aren’t ya, bunny.” You bristle as he uses the pet name. “I was hoping you, uh, wouldn’t disappoint-ah.”
“Where’s my dog?” You say again, adamant. “What have you done with my dog!” Your voice raises, bordering on a yell, and the barrel of the gun is against your forehead faster than you can blink.
“Okay, sweetheart-ah, let’s get some things straight-ah. You’re not-t in control here, so let’s get that into your little head nice and clear.” He drawls the last couple of words out in a voice that is deeply dark and makes you think of the big bad wolf, a shiver moving down your spine.
“You get to keep being alive by the sheer grace of, well, me. So you’d better start speaking with some respect-ah. And I mean let’s really use your manners, doll, let’s remember to say ‘yes sir’ and ‘please sir’ and ‘thank you sir’.” The Joker is smiling wickedly at you, his purple gloved hand pressing the barrel of the gun into your skull.
Your lips curl into a defiant scowl, your eyes glaring at him.
“No.”
The blow across your face shocks you, knocking you out of your chair and onto the floor and leaving your head ringing. Without a moment to recover, he’s on top of you, the force of his powerful build crushing you as his free hand encircles your neck, squeezing.
“Bad girl.” He tsks. “And after I’ve been so patient with you.” You start gasping for air, your hands reaching up to wrap around his forearm, trying in vain to pull him off of you. He’s so close now that you feel scorched by the heat radiating off of him, his muscles flexing as he all too easily overpowers you.
Your senses are invaded by the smell of him, like...paint...and...gunpowder. Your hands release his forearm and you stop struggling, memories flooding back like a sink that has been sealed shut for years suddenly turned onto full intensity. The images come flashing back so erratically and powerfully, you can’t even process them.
The manor house your family had rented out for the holidays, large enough to host your entire family, staff and guards for a whole week. How you had staked out in your bedroom when none of your cousins wanted to play with you, not after you had suggested they make anatomically correct snowmen, and they wouldn’t stop calling you ‘weird girl’.
That’s where he had found you, in your bedroom, with a rather unnatural assortment of items around you. Several barbie dolls you had stolen from a younger cousin were stripped naked and tied up in intricate knots hanging from furniture, while others were simply cut up into pieces and scattered around the room.
There was a large history book on medieval torture open to your right and A Clockwork Orange to your left. And there you were, wearing a pretty blue and white flowered dress, tucking a strand of your long hair behind your ear and drawing a picture of a mass murder with colored pencils.
The Joker releases the hold on your neck as he watches the series of memories flash across your eyes, his gaze trained on you intensely. He stands up and watches you as you slowly pull yourself to a seated position, the gaps in your memories filling in all at once. It’s all clear then.
A young Joker standing in your doorway, face painted and smelling like greasepaint and gunpowder, smiling wickedly and brandishing a blood soaked knife as he kicked open the door.
Your eyes narrow and you throw yourself onto your feet, running at him full force as you feel the weight of realization that your family’s murderer is standing in front of you. You don’t know what you expected to do when you reached him, your hands balling into fists, but The Joker easily catches your wrists with a pressure you can't break, backing you up against the glass windows.
“Memories coming back doll?” His voice is gravely and dominant, but there’s a softer edge buried somewhere deeper in it. Your eyes fill with tears and your voice comes out in choked sobs.
“You killed my family!”
His voice is hard as steel when he answers you, leaning closer into you. “Yes.”
“Why!” You don’t know what to think, the memories and emotions overloading you to the point where nothing makes sense anymore.
The Joker smiles at you, and you’re reminded that the person in front of you is a psychopath, incapable of empathy, who kills people just because he wants to.
“Why? Why!” The Joker lets out a hyena cackling laugh, throwing his head back before wrapping his hand around your neck, his thumb pressing into your jaw. “The same reason anyone does anything sweetheart. I did it for fun-ah.”
“You’re sick.” You blurt out, your tears drying up and replacing with anger.
“Well if I’m sick,” The Joker raises his eyebrows at you knowingly, “then you’re, uh, sick too.” He laughs loudly and maniacally, causing you to jump. “Why so serious-ah?” He says brandishing the word. “It’s much too heavy in this room, doll. Whadya say we have a laugh-ah?”
You look at him disgustingly, and you’re made aware of a knife pressing gently into your side, sliding up over your t-shirt until it reaches your mouth, the steel cold against your lips, pressing lightly.
“What is there to laugh about?” You breathe out, heart rate increasing at the knife that could so easily cut into you.
“Well, uh” The Joker leans into your neck and you feel goosebumps break out over your skin. His lips ghost your neck, and you’re aghast that you feel a little ball of warmth move through you as the corded knots of his scars tickle your neck. “I think it’s funny, bunny, that you despise me at the same time you desperately need me.”
“What are you talking about?” You struggle against him, but the hand around your neck only presses harder while his other moves to grab your hip bone hard enough to leave a bruise, caging you in place against the windowed wall.
Fear courses through you as you glance sideways through the glass and remember just how high above the city you are. If he pushed hard enough, he could easily break the window and send you falling to your death.
“Oh, please, babygirl. I knew it the second I saw you. You’re just a little masochist, ain’t-cha?”
You thrash your body against him, but the more he asserts his power over you, the more you can’t help the tingling feeling spreading through you. You should feel disgusted, sickened, that the man who killed your entire family is touching you this way.
But you don’t. The horrid truth is, he’s right. You want him to take you. You need it. All at once, you stop struggling against him, defeated.
He releases you and pats your cheek none too gently.
“That’s my good girl.”
The Joker walks behind the counter and picks something up, carrying over the large bundle and depositing it on one of the chairs. You realize it’s Copper and run over to him, crouching down and running your hands through his fur until you feel a heartbeat.
“He’s alive.” You breathe out a sigh of relief.
“Just knocked out dollface.”
You stand and walk toward The Joker, needing to ask him the question that’s been on your mind for years now.
“Why didn’t you kill me that day?”
The Joker grins and saunters over to you, absently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear when he reaches you.
“Because-ah,” He grabs your arms, pressing into your skin roughly with a force that’s sure to leave bruises. “You’re special. And you’re mine.” The word is definitive, unquestionable, and you’re left wondering if you’re the only one of The Joker’s victims he’s let live.
“It took me a long time to find you. But now that I have, bunny, you won’t be going anywhere.”
Your face softens at that, and you realize it’s because no one has ever looked at you the way he is looking at you now. Like they see you. Not even your parents, who you are remembering more and more clearly as cold and almost fearful of you, desperate for you to ‘just be normal’.
No one has looked at you the way he is now, and you find yourself wanting to be closer to him, nevermind all the warning bells going off in your head that this is likely the most stupid idea you’ve ever had, that this is The Joker.
But you can’t help it, you’re smiling up at him, letting all the overthinking go and basking in this momentary truth that someone wants the actual you. He’s staring into your eyes with a delightful possessiveness as he pulls you to him and plants a row of kisses and bites on your neck, exposed for him in a little show of submission, causing him to growl hungrily against you.
“And dollface,” he whispers in your ear, “You can call me J.”
Your body jolts as he lands a much harsher bite closer to your collarbone, causing you to emit a sound somewhere between a gasp and a mewl.
“J?”
He hums against your skin, sending warm vibrations through you.
“What are you going to call me?”
You feel him break into a smile against your skin, drawing away from his attack on your neck to stare at you, his jet black eyes a myriad of sadistic carnal desires.
You feel the warmth spread through your core as he devours you with his gaze alone. His answer is simple.
“Mine.”
---
Next Part: Part 2
Tag List (if you want to be added just let me know!): @anyatheladyclown
#Heath Ledger Joker#ledger!joker fanfic#ledger!joker imagine#ledger!joker#ledger!joker/reader#ledger!joker fanfiction#ledger!joker x you#ledger!joker x reader#ledger!joker smut
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