#I fucking fixed text and image and tumblr really said no fuck you. Fucking embarrassing me!?
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Probably shouldn't be posting this when I already have a fusion template up but eh.
I am accepting comments for this right now, all my optional things are open, one comment each please you can go as feral and as in detail as you want for your chosen part, preferably in order but if you're too anxious to make the choice of something/can't think of anything I get if you comment something else. I'll try to give whatever little bugger I get lore and a name afterwards. Any confusion just message and I'll explain
Free to use just save the image and make your own post, if you want to mess with head shape too or not have the optional things or want your comment community to give name personality nature ect obviously say in your own post what you do and don't want
#Mew maker template#If anyone made a mew template like this I'm sorry I didn't check or anything#So if there's any similarities it's coincidental I just thought hey I haven't seen a mew one and ran to make it lmao#Trivia on the original version mew has been autocorrected to meme by my tablets autocorrect#Yes I only noticed seconds before posting#Please don't clown on this or intentionally misinterpret my over explanations I'll cry#Tis the autism and fear of being misunderstood when you thought you were pretty clear#Sorry all my templates are really me catered/tailored with me humor it's how I am#I know asking for mercy and sensible is a stupid idea and yet I beg because unfortunately I don't really want to deal with horrid options#Also just it's fun and I want to also spread mercy to anyone else who'll use this#Overexplained post is over explained#I fucking fixed text and image and tumblr really said no fuck you. Fucking embarrassing me!?
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Summary: College AU/Famous!Blaine and Fanboy!Kurt - Kurt POV
Kurt really doesn’t have time to figure out the dating world between being a freshman at prestigious theatre school, LAADA, and his active but secret blogging life in the Sing!Fandom. So what if Sing! ended last year? There are still fics to read and actors to follow. Especially the uber talented heartthrob lead, Blaine Anderson. He can act. He can sing. He can even dance. He’s gay. He’s out. And he’s only 24. Kurt is willing to twiddle his thumbs and click refresh until Blaine Anderson’s next project.
He just didn’t expect the next project to be on his roommate Rachel’s new TV show.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9
Even Better than the Real Thing (10/13)
Kurt drops the phone as his heart starts to race and panic takes over. He feels like he’s going to throw up. No. He doesn’t have time to throw up. He immediately signs on to tumblr and deletes his blog. Gone. But it’s too late anyways. He calls Mercedes on autopilot.
“It’s over, Mercedes,” Kurt shakes as he says it. “He knows.”
“What? Who knows what?” But he can practically see the information dawn on her as she says it. “He knows you were a fan? Shit.”
“Yes, specifically, he knows that I was LimaBlaineFan - and I say was because I just deleted.”
“Oh my god, Kurt. How did this happen? Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not okay. And I don’t know. Or I can guess. He surprise visited me and I forgot to close my laptop screen and I must have left him in my room while I was dealing with Rachel and her oat milk,” Kurt puts the pieces together. “Fucking oat milk.”
“So he ended it on the spot?”
“No. God. He didn’t even say anything. He must have seen something but not much, gone home and read the blog, and then texted me 24 hours later with a terse goodbye.”
“So what did he say?” Kurt sends her the text. “It’s not great,” She agrees. “But that’s not exactly closure.”
“I don’t think I get closure after what I did. Just memories of our night together and of what an idiot I am.” Kurt goes over the whole story with Mercedes - how he obviously wanted to be chill when he met Blaine, didn’t want to seem like a desperate fanboy but just a friend of Rachel’s - which he is! That wasn’t a lie. And he always made sure to give Blaine an out, not to talk too much, but Blaine kept wanting to talk and flirt and - well, as soon as he really started to believe that they were more than friendly acquaintances with a mutual friend, he stopped blogging. But it was too late by that point to say ‘Oh by the way, I was such a big fan of Sing! that I have a blog about it and your name may feature.’ But he knows it’s all an excuse. Blaine told him the first time they met that a fan is not a friend. And he didn’t heed the warning. Or tell the truth.
Mercedes listens to the story she already knows, and affirms and agrees, but unfortunately, can’t really fix a situation that can’t be fixed. Kurt spends the night staring at his ceiling and the next day moping around the house, tired and cranky. He binges Gossip Girl and eats popcorn and texts Mercedes sad face emojis.
Even Rachel notices that something’s wrong when she comes in that evening.
“You’re still in pajamas?” She looks at him quizzically. “And you look like hell.”
“Thanks?”
“And I only point that out because it’s very unlike you.”
“I guess that is actually a compliment.”
“What’s wrong?” Before he thinks of what he’s going to say, Rachel interrupts again. “Wait. Blaine was a wreck today - bags under his eyes, forgot all his lines. Just said he had a rough night. Okay, Kurt. What is going on with you two?”
“Nothing now.”
“Now?”
“It’s not working out, okay?” Rachel starts to say something again but thinks better of it.
“Okay,” She seems to clue in to the fact that he does not want to talk about it. “I’ll go out later to get you a piece of cheesecake from Henry’s.” His favourite cheesecake place.
“Thank you,” He says sincerely. “Best therapy.”
...
After his cheesecake, which did take his mind off the mess of his life for at least 15 minutes, he moves back to his bedroom for night two of ceiling gazing, when his phone buzzes.
Blaine: So you didn’t respond.
He stares at the message, willing the right response to come to him.
Kurt: I honestly just don’t know what to say. Other than I’m sorry. I guess that’s what I should have said.
Blaine: So you are LimaBlaineFan, right?
Kurt: Guilty. Very guilty.
Blaine: Shit.
Kurt: I know we’re done - it’s my fault. You don’t need to say anything.
Kurt can’t actually bear the idea of Blaine lecturing him on honesty amidst crushing his heart.
Blaine: It is your fault. But we should talk.
Kurt: We should?
Blaine: Meet me at the Coffee Bean tomorrow at 3, okay?
Kurt: Let me check my calendar.
Blaine: Cheeky.
Kurt knows he made him smile despite himself.
Kurt: I’ll be there.
...
Kurt gets to the Coffee Bean half an hour early so he can be sure to be there first. He buys Blaine his favourite medium drip and adds a vanilla almond biscotti.
“These for me?” Blaine says as he sits down across from Kurt.
“The least I could do.” Blaine rolls his eyes and shakes his head, but he accepts the coffee and cookie. “I’m really sorry. I should have told you.”
“Yeah, you should’ve,” Blaine says and pauses, sipping his coffee.
“Can I ask you a question?” Kurt starts.
Blaine shrugs. “Go for it.”
“Why did you ask me to meet you for coffee? I mean, after finding out the guy you just -” Kurt gets red despite himself.
“Got naked with,” Blaine fills in.
“Yes - was actually a fan following your career-”
“And my body parts,” Blaine adds and Kurt gets much redder.
“I mean, I think that gives you license to fully ghost me without another word.”
“True,” Blaine nods his head. “But for one, you are my co-star’s roommate-”
“At least that’s true,” Kurt sighs at himself.
“Also, I’m not an asshole.”
“But I probably gave you reason to think that I am one.”
“No - which is the real reason I wanted to talk. The timeline.” Kurt looks at him confused. “Your blog on tumblr. It seems like once we met, you only blogged a few times. And by the time I was interested in you, you stopped posting.”
Kurt nods, giving himself an internal high five for at least one decent choice. “I did. Right after we-”
“Made out all night?” Blaine has got to stop putting these images back into his head in the midst of a break up conversation.
“No. It was before that. After you - you know we talked in my room-”
Blaine remembers, smiling. “When I got you to tell me you had never been kissed so I could tell you that you should be.”
“You’re so calculating,” Kurt shakes his head.
Blaine raises his hands in defense. “My intentions were pure, I promise. Besides, I could say the same about you.”
“I wasn’t calculating! I wasn’t even trying to be your friend, let alone your, you know. I am definitely not sophisticated enough to try to deceive you to get you into bed, god. I was just trying to seem reasonably normal and cool around my roommate’s new co-star who by complete coincidence was my celebrity crush of the last four years. It was way too uncool to reveal my alter ego to you.”
Blaine smiles, probably despite himself. “Can I tell you some of my favourites?”
“Oh god.”
It seems Blaine spent the better part of his evening delving deeply into the fandom mind of LimaBlaineFan, because he had screencapped some of Kurt’s oldest, and cringiest posts.
-Why isn’t he shirtless in that scene? The other guys are shirtless. Roy is hot. And no, I don’t think he’s embarrassed.
“Well, you are right about that. I’m not camera shy.”
-Thank God Blaine Anderson has a better fashion sense than Roy. Roy and his loose jeans and sweatpants - how would I even catch a glimpse? But did you see Blaine on that red carpet? Maroon suit, pants so tight. His ass is perfection.
-Blaine’s interview for Pride was perfection. He says we might even catch him out on the dance floors, dancing with some hotties. Maybe then he’ll be shirtless.
And of course, Blaine appreciated Kurt’s hard work on one of his most recent posts - The privileges and pitfalls of playing straight for an out gay actor: Quotes from Blaine Anderson’s interviews.
Kurt lets Blaine read each one, sitting silent in embarrassment and biting his lip through it all. It’s the least he deserves. Just as Blaine finishes his list and Kurt is about to go into profuse apology once again, they’re interrupted.
A young woman who looks about seventeen scurries quickly up to their table. “Hi. I’m sorry. I know you’re busy. I’m just such a huge fan of Sing! And now That’s So Rachel-” - If that was a fan test, she passed. She knows both shows. That’s a minimum. “Can I get a pic with you?”
“Of course. Thank you so much for watching.” Blaine takes her phone like a pro and angles it so he and the girl are both in it, Kurt trying to avoid being the photobomb in the background. Blaine turns back to him as the girl leaves.
“I guess that would’ve been me a few months ago.”
“For you, I might have even given a hug. Or the coveted kiss on the cheek. I always try to connect with the gay guy fans.”
“You succeeded?” Kurt tries and Blaine laughs. At least the energy between them is better. Much better. Like he won’t have to hide in a corner if he’s ever at an event with Blaine again or anything like that.
“I guess I did.”
“The first time I met you, you told me that a fan is not a friend.”
“I did.”
“Would you have asked me out if you had known from the beginning?”
“Probably not. Against the rules.”
“That’s what I thought.” There’s an awkward pause - Kurt’s not sure there’s anything else to say and apparently Blaine agrees because he switches the topic to the latest script and his excitement about working with Patti Lupone - who apparently, even gets to slap him. By the time they leave the café, Kurt feels relieved. He’s survived his first break up. Not that they were really together. He doesn’t have the energy to grieve the loss of kissing, and touching, and ironically still not having seen Blaine shirtless (pantless, yes). He’s sure it will hit him like a ton of bricks after he finally gets a real night of sleep, and then he will have Rachel prepare the cheesecake. Again.
He crawls into bed early that night, grateful the shock and awful adrenaline of the last two days has finally left his body. His phone buzzes as he closes his light and he plans to text Mercedes back to tell her he’ll update her tomorrow. But it’s not Mercedes.
Blaine: Some rules are made to be broken.
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Cornelia Street (8/9)
(+ an interlude i thought of after reading “Reeni”s comment. Idk who you are bc it was a guest comment, but thank you!)
A/N: oh my god they were quarantined
yes. It’s one of those fics.
AU, obvs
I’m posting as I go and idk how many parts this is going to be, likely won’t be very long but I literally don’t know what I’m doing and should i be starting yet another WIP? definitely not but fuck it lets fucking go
Title is from T-swizzles Lover album, I’m OBSESSED
Summary: Three years ago, Kurt and Blaine went on a disaster of a date and never quite got off on the right foot. Now, just before they graduate from NYADA, there’s a national outbreak and they’re both self-quarantined in a mutual friend’s apartment.
Read On AO3
On Tumblr: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7
Interlude
QueenJCedes replied to your story!
Kurt bites back a dopey grin when he opens Mercedes’s snapchat message. It’s a photo of her looking dubiously at the camera, a single eyebrow pointed up, with the caption: Quarantine buddies, huh?
He snaps back a quick photo of himself, eyes rolled upwards. What can I say, he won me over.
She sends back just a message this time—
Mercedes: Yeah, clearly.
Mercedes: Head over feet, Alanis style!
—and then a bitmoji of Kurt falling through the air.
Kurt: I mean… You’re not wrong
Kurt: He’s sort of everything
Kurt: AND a fantastic kisser
Mercedes: OMG REALLY? I was just teasing, but if this is legit, I’m so happy for you!!!
He can’t help but giggle excitedly as he types a reply.
Kurt: Yeah. me too.
*
New Snap from setroutymouth
Blaine rolls his eyes but still can't school the smile on his face into a neutral expression. This is going to be a lot, he already knows, but nevertheless, he swipes his thumb across the screen to unlock his phone.
Sam’s pacing through Mercedes’s childhood home in Ohio, phone in selfie mode, already rambling at a hundred miles a minute that Blaine’s sure he cut off a few words.
“—cedes just showed me Kurt’s snapchat story and I AM LOSING IT! Did something happen between you two? Oh my god, something totally happened, didn’t it!? BLAINE PLEASE TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED MERCEDES WON’T TELL ME AND I ALREADY FINISHED EVERY BINGABLE SHOW ON NETFLI—”
As expected, it was a lot. But still not enough to burst his happy little bubble. He doesn’t think anything could, at this point.
Through his smiles, he snaps back a picture of himself shrugging, trying to look as clueless as possible, and adds the caption: I have no idea what you’re talking about.
It’s not even a full moment before he gets another video back.
“BLAINE ANDERSON I AM BEGGING YOU—”
Blaine locks his phone shut, mostly because he knows it’ll drive Sam crazy. He can respond later. Right now, there are more important matters at hand.
*
Blaine’s in the kitchen, putting away what was left of the carton of Cookie Two-Step ice cream they’d demolished while watching another Netflix romcom, when Kurt’s phone lights up.
New Message:
From: Adam
I saw your sc story
You know you could just be *my* quarantine buddy
When are you coming?
Kurt actually growls as he types out a reply. How did he put up with this for nearly three years?
New Message:
To: Adam
I’m not.
Kurt.
We both know how this ends.
Not this time.
I meant it. We’re done.
Okay, whatever you say
I’ll check in with you later
When you change your mind
Kurt doesn’t even warrant that with a response, he’s too seething mad to even formulate one with enough bite to put Adam in his place.
But then the door opens, Blaine’s beaming at him, and Adam is completely irrelevant.
“I was just thinking,” Blaine muses aloud, slipping under the covers and snuggling up next to him in a way that Kurt knows will be way too easy for him to get used to. “Do you remember our Junior year when we had to partner up during Stagefighting for that Musical Choregraphy project?”
Kurt explodes into laughter. “Uh, yeah, that was pretty ridiculous. I remember hearing from Matthew that you said I dance like a pigeon that’d been chewed up and spit out by a cat.”
“What!?” Blaine exclaims, shocked. “I swear I never said that. Though, I do remember going on a tangent about how I didn’t know how I was supposed to concentrate when you insisted on wearing those pants with that tight fitted shirt and…”
He trails off, and Kurt can feel color rising to his cheeks. “Oh, that explains it, actually.”
“Explains what?”
“Matthew. He had a huge crush on you.”
Blaine’s eyes double in size. “He what!?”
Kurt lets out a chuckle. “You seriously didn’t know?”
“No! Nobody told me!”
“That’s not how crushes work, Blaine,” Kurt says through a stream of giggles.
“Okay, why does it make more sense for me to just take a wild guess about how people feel about me instead of them telling me, or acting on it? Like, if you hadn’t have kissed me earlier, I would have never known how you felt and kissed you back.”
Kurt opens his mouth to argue that logic, but… he seriously cannot get over how oblivious Blaine is. “So you’re saying that if I hadn't accidentally kissed you then you really wouldn’t have known how I feel?”
“Yeah. And I would most definitely not have acted on my crush.”
“Aw,” Kurt teases. “You used to have a crush on me. That’s embarrassing.”
“And you watch too much Parks and Rec.”
“I’m gonna kiss you again, now,” he announces.
Blaine just grins, eyes crinkling at the sides. “I think that’s a great idea.”
There wasn’t much of a choice because of the shelter in place, but based on the bright spark forming in his chest when their skin meets, Kurt could definitely get used to this living situation.
*
Blaine finally pulls away reluctantly. If he could stay attached to Kurt forever, stay connected to him, he would. He roams his eyes over Kurt’s face, like he could memorize it if he really, really tried, and notices a scar just above his eyebrow. It would be invisible to anyone else, anyone who wasn’t trying to intentionally map out the image of Kurt.
The scar doesn’t bother Blaine, but the idea that someone ever hurt Kurt bad enough to leave physical evidence that refuses to leave tugs achingly at his heart. Instinctively, he takes his hand from where it rests on the side of Kurt’s face, and gently traces over the scar with the pad of his index finger soothingly, as if it hasn’t been healed for years.
“Sophomore year… two years ago,” Kurt’s murmuring refocuses his attention.
That was a hazy time for Blaine, but he does have a vague memory of hearing from a friend of a friend that Kurt spent some time in the hospital, and he definitely remembers his rival-slash-partner being missing from their stage acting class for a while.
“What happened?” He asks.
Kurt is so calm, so steady when he answers. It leaves him in awe. “It was when all those gay bashings were happening…” he pauses, and Blaine immediately feels sick to his stomach because he knows where this is heading. “I was on my way home from school and saw these guys attacking some teenager, and… I had to help. I ran over and started shoving them, I guess. I didn’t really know what I was doing, but the kid got away. I didn’t. The last thing I remember after that was what I think might’ve been a brick hitting my head.”
“Jesus,” Blaine breathes. His initial reaction is to say I’m sorry, but something tells him that Kurt isn’t sorry about it at all. Instead, he says, “I had no idea. That–that was really brave of you.”
Kurt snorts out a laugh. “I’m glad you think so. I spent most of my hospital stay being berated by my dad about how irresponsible it was.”
“No,” Blaine shakes his head. “If anything it was over-responsible.”
“I’m not convinced that’s a word.”
“Me neither,” Blaine says breathlessly, amber gaze fixed on the boy lying across from him.
He really just can’t help but pull them together again.
Blaine thinks Kurt is opening his mouth to deepen the kiss and, well, he’s certainly not going to complain. Until Kurt sucks in a deep breath and turns his head, chuckling through his yawn.
“Sorry, I really thought I could hold that yawn in.”
Blaine lets out a laugh of his own and glances over at the analog clock on the nightstand. “It’s only midnight, you grandpa,” he teases.
“Hey! Doing nothing all day is seriously draining.”
“I wouldn’t call what we did nothing,” Blaine says cheekily, causing Kurt to flush.
“I’m going to shower before I head to bed,” Kurt responds, sitting up and lifting his arms up over his head and exposing an inch or so of his midriff.
Blaine is trying so hard not to stare. Nevertheless, he can’t help it as he watches Kurt saunter off to the restroom.
He tosses his head back onto the pillow with a satisfied grin on his face. Global crisis it may be, but if he got Kurt Hummel out of it… he could complain about worse things.
A bright ding from his right interrupts his thoughts. Blaine turns his head and sees the screen of Kurt’s phone light up, resting there on the nightstand.
He’s not snooping. He’s really not. It’s just sort of instinct to look in the direction of the sounds.
Then, he sees the succession of messages that make his stomach churn.
New Message:
From: Adam
Hurry and finish up with the rebound already
I miss you
Text me when you’re on your way
He stares at the screen for a few seconds before it fades back to black, feeling absolutely sick to his stomach. Of course Kurt was going to run back to his ex the first chance he got. It’s exactly what he did three years ago and Blaine was just kidding himself. This was all too good to be true.
Turns out it wasn’t.
Before he knows it, he’s grabbing his duffel bag and dialing Quinn’s number.
He’s always welcomed there and New Haven isn’t all that far, after all.
Part 9
#klaine#glee#kurt hummel#blaine anderson#klaine fanfiction#wow look at me im writing!#cornelia street
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It’s been thirteen years since Natsu and Gray met in a program for troubled youth - since they both fell apart and helped put each other back together. Now they’re married and happy, loving each other and the shared family they found. But the past doesn’t always stay past, and when the things that broke them come back into their lives, Natsu and Gray have difficult decisions to make - ones that could change their lives forever.
Chapter Summary: Natsu tries to decide what to do about his father, and Gray gets some upsetting news.
Chapters (7/?): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7
Rating: Mature
Relationships: Natsu Dragneel/Gray Fullbuster, Rogue Cheney/Sting Eucliffe, Laxus Dreyar/Freed Justine
Characters: Natsu Dragneel, Gray Fullbuster, Rogue Cheney, Sting Eucliffe, Freed Justine, Laxus Dreyar, Wendy Marvell, Chelia Blendy, Ultear Milkovich, Lyon Vastia, Lucy Heartfilia
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Aged-Up Character(s), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Married Couple, Established Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Drug Addiction, Mental Health Issues, Foster Care, Family Issues, Tumblr: FTLGBTales, Grief/Mourning, Childhood Trauma, Bipolar Disorder, Adoption, Families of Choice, Nonbinary Character, Trans Character, Genderfluid Character, Forgiveness, Absent Parents, they’re really in love but are sometimes dumb, Natsu is a stubborn shit
Series: Part 14 of the only hope for me is you, Part 3 of if you jump i’ll break your fall
-----
Several days went by, and Natsu still couldn’t tell Gray. The more time passed, the heavier his chest felt, but every time he tried to say the words they disappeared.
I found my dad.
He loved me.
I broke your trust.
I’m sorry.
Sometimes, Natsu was tempted to delete the messages and pretend it hadn’t happened. Every time he tried, though, Neelan would send him another photo, or another story about Natsu as a little kid.
You were always brave, Neelan texted him a couple days later while Natsu was curled up on the couch with Happy. Always climbing stuff or getting into things you shouldn’t. You cut your thumb open at the playground one day and you didn’t even cry when you got stitches.
Natsu stared down at his hands; at the scar on his thumb that wasn’t from playing, but from broken glass. He’d been eight years old and had hurt himself because he’d missed his dad and had just wanted a hug. Natsu didn’t have a scar from Neelan’s story.
He’s lying, a tiny voice in Natsu’s mind whispered. He left you and he didn’t care. None of it is real.
The voice sounded a lot like Gray, and Natsu tried to ignore it.
Continue reading on AO3
Instead he flipped through the pictures Neelan had sent him. There weren’t many, but Natsu already had them memorized, even though he could barely recognize himself in those gap-toothed smiles. He didn’t remember any of them.
Natsu sighed, tipping his head back against the couch and looking down the hallway toward Gray’s office. Gray had been busy lately – his company was releasing a new game soon, and Gray spent most of the days at the computer, tweaking code and talking on the phone.
Natsu’s phone dinged again and he looked down at another message from Neelan.
I know it’s only been a few days, but I’ve been thinking about this a lot. If you aren’t ready, I completely understand.
Natsu frowned, but as he read the rest of the message, his eyes widened.
Do you want to meet?
The words swam on the screen and Natsu immediately set the phone down on the coffee table as a rush of adrenaline crashed through him. It left him breathless and shaky, and he picked his phone up and set it down several times before pushing it across the coffee table and covering his face with his hands.
Meet his dad? Natsu knew, theoretically, that Neelan was only a boat ride away – just across the water to a city Natsu had visited hundreds of times before. Him and Gray had gone to the aquarium there a few years ago for Gray’s birthday.
The urge to tell Gray hit Natsu, suddenly, and he pushed himself up from the couch. He pulled the sleeves of his sweater down over his hands and stared up at the ceiling, exhaling sharply. Happy appeared, rubbing himself against Natsu’s legs, and Natsu bent down to pick him up.
“C’mon,” he said, kissing the top of Happy’s head. “I gotta fix this.”
The door to the office was open and Natsu could hear Gray talking on the phone. He was about to knock, but stopped when he heard the concerned edge to Gray’s voice.
“Bien sûr je lui fais confiance,” Gray was saying. “That’s not it,” he continued in French. “I just... I’m scared, and I don’t want to make him upset.” The person on the other end of the phone – it had to be Freed, since Ultear was at the cabin with Xavier and the kids and Gray didn’t speak French with anyone else – said something and Gray shook his head. “No, he’s been taking them. I checked.”
Natsu took a step back, chest tightening as he realized that Gray was talking about him. Irritation flared up as he thought about Gray checking his pill container – he’d already told Gray he was taking them. Gray didn’t trust him.
“I don’t think that’s it,” Gray said in response to a question from Freed. “I think he’s still stuck on his dad.” He tipped his head back against his computer chair and rubbed his face. “I almost wish we’d never run into Wendy. He’s been off since then, and I don’t know what to do.”
A hot flush crept into Natsu’s cheeks as he set Happy down, then leaned against the wall of the hallway and rubbed his face with both hands. A spark of anger lit amidst the guilt Natsu had been carrying around.
“He says he doesn’t, but I’m pretty sure Natsu wants to find him,” Gray continued, then paused for a response from Freed. “No, it's a terrible idea, but I just... I can’t talk to him about it. He gets so defensive.”
Do you want to meet?
The spark flared into embarrassed resentment as heat flushed up Natsu's neck and into his cheeks.
“No,” Gray said into the phone, shaking his head. “Even if Natsu could forgive him, I don’t think I can. Natsu went through so much shit because of that asshole, and I know he thinks he’ll get answers, but he’s just going to get hurt.”
Natsu’s jaw tightened and he exhaled shakily, balling his hands into fists. Gray was wrong. Part of Natsu wanted to slam the door open and yell at him – my dad loved me, he’s talking to me, he’s not dangerous, he wants to meet. But an image of Gray’s concerned, cautious expression filled Natsu’s mind and he shook his head.
“No, he doesn’t need to hear that.” Gray’s voice softened and Natsu tipped his head to look through the door again. Freed said something else and Gray sighed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the desk. “I’m just tired,” he said quietly.
Natsu stared down at his hands where his nails were making dark marks in his palms. The ache spread through his chest, equal parts anger and humiliation, and he took another step back down the hallway.
I’m just tired.
Tired of Natsu, tired of his ups and downs, his medication changes, his stupid fixations, his anger and sadness and tears and the way he fucked up over and over again. Tired of him, just like Neelan, just like his foster parents, just like Don who had told him go survive on your own.
Gray said something else but it was drowned out by the roaring in Natsu’s ears. Suddenly he needed to be anywhere but here. He backed down the hallway to the front door, slipping on his sandals and closing the apartment door as quietly as possible.
He took the stairs two at a time, and when he got to the front door of the building, he turned toward the beach and started running.
~
Gray yawned, pushing his chair away from the desk and rubbing his eyes. The code on the computer screen was starting to blur together, and when Gray reached for his coffee, it was disappointingly empty.
“C’mon, Happy,” he said, nudging the cat off his lap. Happy meowed disapprovingly, then sauntered off into the kitchen as Gray followed close behind. He was about to turn on the coffee maker when his phone started to ring. Ultear’s name popped up on the screen and Gray frowned. She and Xavier were supposed to be at their lake cabin with the kids this weekend.
“Allo?” he said, tucking the phone between his shoulder and ear as he started to scoop coffee into the filter. “Quoi de neuf?”
At first there was no answer, and Gray frowned. Then Ultear’s voice came through, quiet and shaky. “J’ai besoin de te parler.” She sounded like she’d been crying.
“Qu’est-ce qu-il y a?” Gray asked, setting down the coffee as a cold thread of panic twisted in his stomach. “Are you okay?”
“Are you home?” Ultear asked instead of answering the question. Gray made an affirmative sound, an uncomfortable feeling settling in his chest as he heard her car starting in the background. His mind immediately went to Natsu, but that made no sense. Natsu was at work, with Sting.
“Ultear, what’s—”
“It should be in person,” Ultear said, letting out a shaky sigh. “I’ll be there in soon.” She hung up before Gray could argue and he stared down at the phone, frowning in concern.
Gray spent the next half an hour alternating between panic and confusion. He sent a quick text to Natsu, but there was no answer, and he was just about to call Freed back when there was a knock at the apartment door.
“Qu’est-ce qu’il se passe?” he asked as soon as he saw Ultear’s tear-stained face. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and there were dark smudges of makeup under her eyes. “Are the kids okay?”
“Yes, they’re fine, that’s not...” Ultear trailed off as Gray gently took her arm and led her into the living room. He perched on the edge of the coffee table as she sat down on the couch, not-quite-looking at him. “C’mon, you’re scaring me,” Gray said softly, taking her hand and squeezing it. The mild panic from before was quickly turning to something closer to terror.
Ultear shook her head, squeezing Gray’s hand as she started to cry. Gray’s chest ached and he quickly shifted onto the couch next to her, pulling her into a hug as her shoulders started to shake.
When she was finally able to catch her breath, Ultear pulled back from Gray’s embrace and wiped her face. She looked away from him, taking a deep breath.
“It’s Lyon,” she said softly. “He’s getting a parole hearing next week.”
The words floated in the air between them for a minute, then slammed into Gray’s chest. A hundred memories hit him at the same time – his parents’ deaths, his uncle murdering Ur, moving to Magnolia, the gang he and Lyon had joined, calling the police, Lyon nearly killing him fourteen years ago.
“He…”
“They called me this morning,” Ultear said. “They can’t say for sure, but they might let him out on parole.”
A dizzy heat washed over Gray and he swallowed a few times, trying to push down his own tears that were threatening to spill. The vague memory of drifting snow and hard, angry eyes flashed through his mind, and suddenly, all Gray wanted was Natsu.
“I th-thought…” Gray whispered, crossing his arms over his stomach, “He… it was longer. It’s only been—he’s not—there’s…”
“I know,” Ultear said, sighing and reaching out for Gray. He shook his head, pulling back from her, and she made a sad sound.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, rubbing his arms. He brought his hand up to the scar on his shoulder, closing his eyes and trying to breathe. “I don’t… I can’t…”
It had taken him so long to be even remotely close to okay – years of nightmares and flashbacks and guilt and anger. He remembered dropping his goodbye letter to Lyon in the mailbox the day he’d proposed to Natsu, and the feeling of relief it had brought him. Then his memories skipped to their wedding, to him and Ultear standing on the beach and Gray wishing that Lyon had been there.
Everything tangled into an uncomfortable mess in his stomach that made him feel like throwing up.
“I set up a meeting with Claire on Friday,” Ultear said. “From Victim’s Services, remember?” Gray couldn’t even nod. Everything was too loud, too much – this was a dream, one of the bad ones. “We’re going to have to talk to them and decide what you want to do... he’d be living in Magnolia so his probation officer could keep an eye on him.”
Living in Magnolia.
“I know it’s a lot,” Ultear said gently. “I’m sorry.” Gray didn’t say anything, just stared at the hole in the couch that Happy had made years ago. “Do you want me to call Natsu?” Ultear asked.
Gray nodded slowly, still touching his scar through his shirt. The memories were so blurry now – it felt like a lifetime ago that Lyon had hurt him. Anger and frustration mixed with a soft sense of longing, and Gray shook his head to try and separate the feelings. It was too much.
A buzzing on the coffee table interrupted Gray’s thoughts and he frowned, realizing Natsu had left his phone there. He picked it up, about to swipe the call to decline it, when he saw a message on the lock screen.
Neelan Dragneel [14:45] Do you want to meet?
#fairy tail#ftlgbtales#ftlgbtfics#gratsu#gray x natsu#gray fullbuster#natsu dragneel#fanfic#angst#new chapter#update#my fic
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Crimson Lane - Chapter 12 - The Long Dark Night (part 1)
Moodboard by @ashtyntaytertot
Beta’d by @kathknight and @ashtyntaytertot
Links
Tumblr Master Post
Archive of our Own (from the start)
Archive of our Own (chapter)
Fanfiction.net
Chapter Text
In the crowded streets of Coruscant, Kylo Ren tried to disappear. Sleek and silent as the night, smoothly darting between the churning rapids of busy workers. He swept around them, ghost-like, cutting through breaks in the crowd.
Invisible.
“Ben Solo! Over here!”
The voice had come from behind him, ostentatiously loud enough to make the people beside him stop what they were doing and look around.
Who the fuck knew his real name?
His heart railed against his body and he turned hesitantly. The mall was heaving with workers crowding the path. His gaze followed the walkway ahead to a man wearing a brown leather jacket with dark hair, waving at him.
Poe Dameron.
Kylo grimaced as a string of images surfaced in his mind: an inferno of flames ripping through the quiet night, Poe’s frantic dash outside his home to see the car spitting and snapping with flames.
Kylo had saved his life that night. Not that the imbecile would ever realise.
He doesn’t know it was you. Be friendly. Be quick. Kylo forced himself to smile.
“Ben, buddy! I haven’t seen you in years.” Poe yanked him into a hug and Kylo’s jaw clenched. He hated this, he always had. Even as a boy, whenever he’d fallen over and scraped his knee, Leia would rush out to embrace him. He would run away from her screaming. Tears running down his face and blood gushing from his knee. It had always embarrassed her that she couldn’t comfort her child the way the other mothers could. But Kylo had to move through the pain. To run away from people, not the other way around. People just complicated things.
He pulled back, at the end of his tether.
“Where have you been all these years? What are you doing for work now? How are your parents?” Poe said in an excitable rush.
Before Kylo could answer, Poe turned the conversation back to himself: his family, his successes. Kylo nodded, glassy-eyed and bored. There was the distinct smell of Indian food and his stomach rumbled. Poe kept chatting as Kylo searched along the row of cafes and restaurants, his gaze pausing on an unusual gnarled tree with low-hanging branches, desolate in the winter sun. Small buds dotted the barren branch, but there was one flower, breaking out of the darkness, unfurling pristine white petals.
And that was when he felt it. A shiver that started from his scalp and trickled down his neck. A feeling he got when he was being watched. He stiffened, alert and searching, continuing his monotonous grunts in response to Poe until he saw her —
Their eyes met, and her hand covered her mouth in shock.
“Hey, these are my friends. I’ll introduce you,” Poe said, and the next minute he was being dragged towards her.
Then Kylo noticed the wider scene, a dark hand draped over Rey’s shoulder.
The moment Kylo had first seen her, she had been laughing. Then she saw him and her smile disappeared, replaced by an expression that made him feel uncomfortably nervous… like she knew too much.
“Rey, Finn, this is my old buddy Ben Solo,” Poe said. “We go way back.”
“Solo—as in Senator Organa-Solo?” the man said, Finn, he supposed.
Finn, who liked to put his arm around Rey. Finn, who made her laugh. Finn, whose company she was in without being paid.
“Ex-Senator,” Kylo corrected.
“Not for long though,” Poe interjected.
Kylo stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“She’s back in the fight. Hasn’t she told you?”
“No,” he said darkly. “We’re not on speaking terms. I thought the fact that she was almost killed in office and took half the Resistance with her might have taught her to stop chasing such a fool’s errand.”
“Is that really what you think?” Rey’s drew him in and when he met her eyes, she was no longer in shock standing tall with her arms folded. Defiant and classically Rey. He would almost think it endearing if he wasn’t in so much trouble.
“I think people should know when to quit.”
“And I suppose you’re comfortable with the fact that The First Order has earned almost every government arms contract without going to tender.”
Easy, Rey. He gave her a half smile, strained as it was.
“Anyway,” Finn interrupted loudly. “It’s good to meet you, Solo.”
“You too,” Kylo conceded but only because Rey was watching him like a hawk.
The shook hands and he flinched at the touch of Finn’s sweaty palms. A classic physiological response to attraction. His eyes were bright, and even as he spoke they flitted to Rey.
He can’t stop looking at you, he thought, glancing at Rey. Do you know? Is that how they all look at you? Like you’re the sun after the longest night?
Kylo bristled, a vein throbbing in his forehead. He wiped Finn’s sweat on his pants and reached his hand out to her.
Waiting.
His hand hung in the air, a silent entreaty. Open. She stared at it, pressing her palm against her breastbone as though she were holding her heart in place.
And still, she left him waiting.
“Nice to meet you,” he said, leaving his hand open, stretching it closer to her. Take it! Please. I need to know you still trust me.
She reached out to him uncertainly, filling the empty space in his hand. Her slender fingers felt petite, but strong and calloused. She didn’t look at him but rather at the sight of their hands entwined.
What had Poe been telling her? What did she think of him now?
Rey, look at me. His grip tightened, more desperate than aggressive.
And this time her hazel eyes met his with gold bursts of colour behind wide pupils, exploding into moss green. It was the first time he’d noticed the palette of colours beneath the midday sun. But while her eyes were brilliant and entrancing, the expression behind them was unreadable, neutral even. She couldn’t be impassive. Not with him.
“It’s good to meet you, Ben.” He was drawn in at the sound of his name on her lips. The soft pucker, the way her tongue touched the roof of her mouth. Why did it sound so different coming from her? But then her eyebrows raised questioningly, and she didn’t need to say it. He already knew.
He was fucked.
And yet, she was still holding his hand. He savoured that connection, the only thing tethering him to the light and to hope that things might get better.
His phone rang and he ripped it from his pocket, grip tightening around the frame as he saw the name Snoke on the screen. In a flash, he pulled his hand out of hers and pushed the “hang up” button as though he might have been deactivating a bomb.
“Poe, I need to get back to work,” Rey said, poker-faced. “I’ll think about what you said.”
Kylo’s eyes snapped to Poe, that jittery excitement palpable on his face. Then she turned and hugged Finn, and he squeezed her just enough to make her giggle. Kylo’s chest tightened at the sight, a seismic panic flooding his system.
Lastly, she turned to Kylo, face neutral, and gave him a quick nod. “Ben.”
His lips parted, trying to think of something to say that would make her stay, to spend a moment alone with her, but she left too quickly.
He watched her walk away, tall, confident and purposeful. Whatever Dameron had told her, he wanted to explain that there was more to the story; that he was working to protect her, that he had always protected her. If only she would come back, he would explain.
But she never gave him a chance.
Crimson Lane
Later that day, Kylo Ren glared down at his shaking hands. He couldn’t go in like this. Clenching and unclenching them, almost hypnotically, he watched the knuckles whitening through his skin. He had spent far too long staring at Snoke’s door.
He knocked and waited.
There was a guttural groan, a pause, and then, “Come in.”
Kylo entered, looking to the left and right of the door before he stalked to the centre of the room, stepping on the zebra skin rug, another innocent creature Snoke had destroyed.
Snoke was sitting at his mahogany desk, a muted gold silk robe draped around his body, exposing the white of his arms, hairless and dotted with age. His hands clutched at the sides of the desk and there was a rhythm to his breathing that was unnerving.
There was something awkward about the position. Kylo looked up at the mounted lion bust behind him, meeting the cold, empty stare of the beast with fixed intensity; anything was better than watching Snoke doing whatever the fuck he was doing.
“Hux said you wanted to see me,” Kylo said at last.
A crooked smile flitted across Snoke’s lips, and he groaned once more, eyes rolling.
“Kylo Ren,” Snoke panted. “Come closer.”
Kylo took a cautious step forward, brows pinched.
“That’s right—Ah,” Snoke sighed. “You really should…”
Snoke shifted, face twitching as though he were trying to catch hold of something in his mind, an invisible target.
His long, bony fingers curled around the edges of the desk and his mouth dropped. “Go harder!” He spat the words with a shower of spray forming little pinpricks of saliva on his desk. And then he must have kicked at something underneath, because the table jolted and there was a muffled cry.
Rey!
Kylo lurched forward, nostrils flaring, heart pounding, and then stopped. Almost as suddenly as he began. It was enough; Snoke had spied the action straight away, it even seemed to add to his enjoyment as his face spasmed and went limp with a sigh.
There was a choking and gagging sound from underneath his desk, and Kylo’s entire body trembled as someone awkwardly climbed out, toppling a chair as she extracted herself from beneath the desk.
“What’s up, Kylo?” Phasma stretched her body out with a coy smile, thumb wiping her mouth.
He’d almost ripped Snoke open right there. He would have done it, cleaved him open if he had to. If he had subjected Rey to his… He couldn’t afford to lose it now. Not yet, not until he had finished this. Kylo turned away, but not before seeing Phasma glide over to the old man and kiss his wrinkled forehead, from the corner of his eye. The vision made his stomach churn.
He pointedly ignored them and focussed instead on an amber watermark blotting the ceiling above Snoke’s desk, still trying to ignore the way Phasma sat on his lap and kissed him like the shrivelled up raisin he was, exchanging knowing glances, always looking back to Kylo.
Snoke whispered something in Phasma’s ear and she left, brushing past Kylo on the way.
“Does Rey swallow it for you, Kylo?” Phasma purred.
“Shut up,” he growled at her, eyes still fixed on the stain
She laughed at him and gave a casual glance back at Snoke. “Always so serious.”
Kylo ignored her, shoving his hands behind his back, clasping them with so much pressure it hurt. The pain grounded him for a moment, helping him to find his centre, even as Snoke’s malevolent laugh rose up. He couldn’t fall apart. Not now. Not yet.
“Why so high-strung?”
Kylo swallowed, gliding his gaze over Snoke, a benign attempt at looking attentive, but in truth unable to stand the sight of him.
“I’ve found San Tekka. He has a holiday let across town, near Naboo. He’s there pretty frequently, according to the landlady.”
Snoke leaned forward, lips wet with hunger.
“Fix this mess.” He pointed to the crooked desk and fallen chair.
Kylo pushed them back into place, heart pounding so loudly in his chest he was sure Snoke would hear.
“Well done, Kylo,” he said, but there was something a little off-kilter in his gaze, a sharp glimmer in his eye.
Kylo continued, “I can go down there tonight.”
“Indeed.” Snoke’s lifeless eyes fixed on him, unblinking. “Luckily, Hux got one up on you. He found his permanent residence in Jakku, not far from the Niima outpost.”
“Really?” Kylo’s voice was too high.
“Yes, on Tuanui street. Hux is there now. Extracting information from him.”
“I see.”
“You’re upset.”
“No.” Kylo’s chin shifted, his right eye twitching.
“You are. I would have sent you, Kylo, but no one could find you and you weren’t answering your phone.”
“Has—” He swallowed, throat tightening. “Hux got him to talk?”
Snoke stared at him, letting the silence settle between them.
“He’s found out all he needs. They’re waiting for you now to finish the job.”
Snoke paused, narrowing his eyes at Kylo. “Unless you’re having second thoughts about proving yourself worthy of my trust.”
“I told you I would do it if you needed me to.”
“And I do,” Snoke retorted, his eyes resting on the door. From behind it came the muffled chatter of female voices. “There’s a van waiting out back for you. You and Dom can go there now.”
Kylo nodded, lips tight, his dark eyes darting between the door and Snoke.
Snoke pulled open the top drawer, carefully pulling out a Glock pistol. “Here, you can use this.” He held it out, levelling the barrel towards Kylo, finger at the trigger.
“Pow!” He chuckled as Kylo braced in a sudden rush of fear. “Right between the eyes. Try not to make a mess.”
Kylo pulled the gun towards him. It wasn’t the first time he’d held a gun, but it was the first time he would kill someone with one. The gun was suddenly heavier in his hand, the metal cold and rough.
He placed it back on the table, unable to bear holding it any longer, pulling gloves from his pocket and putting them on. It was too late for that. He’d wipe the prints later, after he finished the job.
“He has cancer,” Kylo said weakly. “I heard it somewhere.”
“Do I care?”
“I thought, if you didn’t want the attention, we could—”
“No, Kylo. If you don’t want attention, then I suggest you get on with your job.” Snoke shuffled over to his cabinet on the wall and opened it with a grand flick of his hands. Taking a step back, Snoke crossed his arms and made a clicking sound with his tongue, scouring over his personal range of playthings, pulling out a dog collar and muzzle.
“Honestly, I thought you would be grateful for this opportunity. To take down the man who would threaten everything we have worked for.”
We. It was funny how Snoke liked to throw that word around. He couldn’t wait to watch it all burn, the First Order, Snoke. All of it.
After snapping at the leash of the dog collar, Snoke narrowed his ice-blue eyes on Kylo.
“For Saturday.” He sneered. “Which one would she like?”
Kylo looked down at his gloves, at the way the leather creaked. He was trembling.
“Well?”
“I have no idea.”
Snoke chuckled. He reached for Kylo’s shoulder, whispering into his ear, “you know Kylo, when the time comes, I will poke her till she squeals like a pig for slaughter.”
His breath stank of expensive aftershave, gin and tobacco. Kylo stared dead ahead, but inside he fought hard to keep every muscle in his body locked in place. He knew, as soon as he lost control, that Snoke would be a dead man.
He couldn’t…
Breathe.
“You do realise, you only have her while I let you, son.”
Kylo tightened his jaw, suppressing his rage. “I paid for her.”
“And I pay for you!” Snoke shouted. “Remember? If I hadn’t saved you, you’d be rotting in prison with a manslaughter charge. How much would they have on you now, Kylo? Now that I have your fucking face on every single job you’ve ever done for me. I’m telling you, son, they will have nothing on me, and everything on you!”
“The minute...” Snoke held out his finger, jabbing Kylo’s chest with it. “The single fucking minute you even hesitate on my orders, you will be in prison and I will drag that girl down here and have her sprawled out on this desk screaming my name—do you hear me?”
Kylo’s couldn’t speak, his words trapped deep in his heart. The only control he had was to stand there, steel-faced, fighting every instinct of his body to rip this man apart.
Not yet. Not yet.
“I said do you hear me!?” Snoke hollered.
Kylo dug his fingernails deep into his palm, the edges of his nails slicing into the leather. His body quaked with a decade of rage, built up, behind an internal dam he had created deep inside. One day it would break, one day he would …
Not yet.
There was a sharp crack across his cheekbone. The pain muted into shock, as Kylo reeled from the realisation that Snoke had struck him with the leash, the buckle tearing the skin down the side of his face. A warm trail of blood ran from his brow to his cheek and he gasped, fighting the urge to reach up and cover his face in defence.
“Fuck you, Kylo!” Snoke’s voice rained down in a mist of hot saliva, his eyes watering and red. “You make me do these things to you.”
Kylo nodded haltingly. His face was exploding in pain, but he gritted his teeth and blinked away rogue tears.
“You must understand, you are the only one I can trust…“
Those words, they were poison. He saw that now. Snoke liked to wrap them in a blanket of praise, but they were still lies and manipulation.
“You believe me, don’t you?” he asked, the words sweet and pliant.
Kylo nodded, gaze burning into the floor before Snoke’s feet.
“San Tekka’s a dead man.”
“And the girl? You’re too involved with her.”
“She’s nothing.”
“There now. You won’t stray again,” Snoke cooed, almost to himself. It was Kylo’s one advantage, for whatever deranged reason, Snoke treasured him. He was the rabid cur he could parade around and scare his opponents.
Snoke’s face broke into a smile, and a single tear zig-zagged through the broken lines of his face. And then he reached out, touching his thumb to Kylo’s cheek, wiping the blood away.
Kylo stiffened. The act of Snoke touching him, intimately, like a father, made his stomach wrench.
“No harm done.” Snoke pulled his hand back, surveying the blood on his fingers, bringing them to his mouth, licking each one clean.
He was a fucking madman.
“Off you go, son,” Snoke said gently, moving back to his computer and turning on the monitor. “As always, I will be watching.”
The first thing Rey noticed when she came in that evening was that Rose wasn’t smiling.
And then, like a flick of a switch, she was.
The moment between the two expressions was terse, quiet, like the wait between thunder and lightning. Rey had watched her back long enough to know when things weren’t right. The hairs on her forearms seemed to stand on end, and the air felt clearer somehow, charged.
“Hey,” Rey said with a smile, casually stepping forward, but still checking every point of the room. “What’s up?”
“Not much,” Rose said, a little stiffly. “You’re early.”
“Where’s Phasma?”
Then the smile reached Rose’s eyes, crinkling into half-moons. She pointed to the bathroom. “In there.”
Almost on cue, there was a loud heave, followed by the sound of liquid sloshing into the toilet bowl, and violent, irate swearing.
“She ate something that didn’t agree with her.”
Rose put two hands in front of her mouth and imitated what Phasma had just been eating, and mouthing the word “Snoke”.
“Oh my God, that’s gross.”
Rose shrugged. “Better her than us though, right?”
Rey nodded, her gaze dropping to the sheer chiffon robe tied around Rose and the white the feather boa tied around her neck. Phasma’s vomiting, Rose’s underwear--it was a reminder of what they were expected to do. Kylo may not have forced her into anything, but he was just one client, and after Friday she would have to share her body with whoever Phasma booked her with.
“What’s up?” Rose asked.
Rey smiled and walked towards the desk, taking Rose’s hands in her own. “I wanted to
make sure that you were okay after last night. I’ve been worried about you.”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just glad Kylo was there to intervene.”
Rose paused as if waiting for something, her lips in a half smile, dark eyes twinkling.
“Maybe he’s not so bad after all?”
“Maybe,” Rey answered and pulled out her phone, pretending to read messages that weren’t there.
“He’s so different with you.”
“Is he?” She didn’t look up, but her voice hitched a note higher than she intended.
“You’re sly as a fox Rey, you damn-well know he is,” Rose smiled, whacking her with the end of her feather boa. “He’s seen the light.”
Rey caught the string of feathers in her hands, pulling one off teasingly. “Keep your damn bird to yourself.”
Rose swatted her across the face with the feathers and they snickered. It was just a moment, a glimpse of childish, carefree laughter. Each of them carrying it on until the moment passed, and their laughter turned into smiles and then silence. The break brought Rey grinding back to thoughts of her lunch with Poe and all the things he had told her about Kylo Ren and the First Order.
Rey lowered her eyes and toyed with the loose feather, pulling it apart until it was destroyed.
“But is that enough?” she mused. “I mean, what about his work for Snoke? Look at what he did to your dickhead client last night. That was nothing to him. The blood, the pain. He hurts people, Rose. Really hurts them.”
“And you sell your body for sex.”
Rey straightened, frowning. “I don’t have a choice.”
“And what makes you think Kylo does?”
Rey shook her head, annoyed. “It’s not the same.”
“Isn’t it?”
Rey rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I need to plug my phone in Snoke’s office. The battery is almost gone.”
She turned to go, but Rose yanked her back.
“No, don’t!” Rose’s gaze darted to the door warily. “Snoke’s already in there with Kylo.”
Snoke. Here. The feel of his disgusting hand touching her, his cabinet of “toys”, the fact he had been watching her and Kylo that first night, that he had seen her naked, moaning and thrusting. She shivered and stepped back.
In the waiting silence, she heard voices from behind the door. They were getting louder, angrier.
“What have they been talking about?”
Rose shifted her gaze to the door and back, her expression returning to the one Rey had first noticed when she had come in earlier.
“Um, you.”
“What!?”
“Just don’t go in there.”
A viperous, snarling voice rose from behind the door.
“The single fucking minute you even hesitate on my orders you will be in prison and I will drag that girl down here and have her sprawled out on this desk screaming my name—”
“Holy shit, Rey," Rose whispered in her ear. “I think you should go upstairs.”
Then, a muffled crack behind the door, a sharp stinging sound that reminded Rey of the way Plutt used to slap the back of her thighs with a belt. The noise made her body jerk back. She couldn’t make out either voice now; they were softer, distorted.
“I mean it. Get upstairs and lock the door. I won’t tell them I saw you.”
She should go.
She should...
“Does Snoke always talk to him like that?” Rey asked, voice shaking. It wasn’t fear making it waver like this. It should have been fear, but it wasn’t.
Rose nodded. “It’s not been this bad for a while.”
The door handle rattled and Rose pulled her back behind the counter until it thundered open, smashing against the wall so hard it chipped the plywood. Rose clasped the table, reaching below for something when Kylo charged out, eyes wild and dark, hair messy, falling across his face like black scars, and from his eye to his cheek there was a gash spilling blood.
“What are you looking at?” he barked at them as the girls stood there aghast, mouths open and speechless.
He charged towards the desk and in one violent sweep he slashed his arm across the desk. The green study lamp scattered into uneven shards on the floorboards, while papers scattered in the air.
That beautiful, haunted face, covered in blood. Rey wanted to ask him what had happened, to demand to know what Snoke had done to him, but even as she opened her mouth to speak, he growled at her.
“What are you doing down here?”
“I—” Rey glanced at Rose, looking for backup.
“Rose. Keys.” Kylo ignored her, planting both hands on the empty desk and leaning over it. “Hurry.”
Rose nodded and searched the drawers, pulling out all the room keys. He pulled the ones marked “8” into his pocket, dark eyes flicking to Snoke’s office as if he were waiting for him to appear.
“I think that’s all of them,” Rose said quickly. “And here, take the master key too. Just in case.”
He nodded, casting a wary eye once to Rey and back to Rose. “Make sure she stays up there.”
“Excuse me?” Rey balked at his order.
He turned to her and pointed upstairs. “Get up to your room and don’t open the door to anyone!”
“No.” Rey crossed her arms and looked him square in the eye.
"Will you do what you're fucking told for once?!"
“Not until you tell me—”
Suddenly, Rey’s world turned upside down and her stomach lurched as Kylo slung her over his shoulder.
“No time,” he muttered.
“What the hell are you doing? Let go!” she shrieked.
But he wouldn’t let go and as the blood rushed to her head, she could do nothing but feel her body tugged up and down as he stormed up the stairs in long awkward strides.
“I can’t believe this,” she hissed the words at his arse, the only part of him she could see other than his long, overgrown legs and feet.
When he still ignored her, she kicked, hands clamouring over his body to find a spot to grab hold. She grabbed his belt and tried to flip her legs over as Master Skywalker had once taught her. For a moment, Kylo almost toppled, swearing under his breath, and then wrapped his arms tighter around her legs in a vice-like hold.
“Keep still,” he hissed at her.
“Damn you, Kylo! When you put me down, I’m going to—”
“I know, now shut up.”
Rey glared at his pants, folding her arms impatiently, as he kicked the door open and threw her onto the bed.
She fell onto her back, disappearing within the goose down duvet, grunting and kicking until she could jump to her feet, puffing and ready to explode. Kylo had wisely taken a step back, just out of arm’s reach.
“Before you start—” he said in a rush, aware that she was about to throw a verbal onslaught his way.
“What the hell is going on?”
“You need to stay here.” He marched back to the door, locking it.
“You’re not my bloody babysitter—”
“I wouldn’t need to be if you didn’t make such stupid decisions.”
Oh, that was it! Her face was boiling, that coil of anger ready to spring and lash out.
“What—”
“What were you doing with Dameron today?” He spoke over the top of her, his voice loud and unyielding.
Rey’s mouth opened and closed. She may have done that twice. She wasn’t sure.
“That’s none of your business.”
Kylo stalked towards her in slow, measured steps, forcing her to sputter out an unprepared answer.
“He’s a friend.”
“You have dangerous friends.”
“You can say that again,” she said with a pointed pout.
There was a flicker at the corner of his lips, fleeting, unwelcome. He cleared it away and settled in front of her, much too close.
She was at a disadvantage, forced to look up at him, forced to remember that he was so much larger than her in every way.
He continued, “Are you working with Poe?”
“I—I don’t have to answer that,” she stammered.
A slight move of his jaw, the hint of a tic beneath his left eye, his tells. He got them whenever his emotions were running high. Tendons strained in his neck, a small racing movement at the base, and then she realised, there wasn’t anger there, but something that made his face turn ash-white and his lips tremble. Was it fear?
“It’s dangerous, Rey.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a warning.”
“They’re the same thing.” She paused, chewing on her lips and looking to the side. She looked at the desert painting on the wall, staring at it blankly. “Isn’t that what you do, after all? Hurt people?”
She regretted the words almost immediately, even if they were true. How the air drained from his body, his arms falling slack at his sides.
“I would never hurt you, Rey.”
God, how that quiet voice broke her, driving away that brazen anger into something tender and protective. She looked at his hands, large and pale, awkwardly waiting by his sides. She wanted to slide her fingers into them and weave them together.
Why did she always want more?
She raised her eyes to his fleetingly, and she saw overwhelming sadness. He shouldn’t care what she thought of him, not like this, like she was something more than an abandoned street rat and a whore.
“You know I wouldn’t hurt you, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she whispered, hugging her arms around her body. She had to, otherwise she would have reached out to him.
A lingering silence filled the space between them like mist on the moors. Rey flicked her eyes up and down at him, catching the way his gaze had moved to her mouth, her shoulders. His lips parted, and his breathing slowed—everything slowed. That space between them, invisible but charged, wanting to close.
Rey could feel every beat of her heart as he moved closer, placing a hand on her shoulder, whispering.
“Snoke already suspects a traitor. I’m trying to protect you.”
She nodded again and took a slow breath, hoping it would give her courage.
“And who’s protecting you?” She moved her hand to his cheek and he flinched. It was instinctual and it broke her heart. How many times has he hit you? she wondered.
“Can I?” Her fingers hovered over his skin.
He nodded and she touched him, so much softer than she could have imagined. With a gentle stroke, she wiped the blood away.
“You need to patch that up, it will scar.”
He caught her hand in his own, and swallowed, almost unsure what to do next, studying her fingers. Then he bent his head and placed a kiss on her wrist.
“Kylo,” she whispered, barely audible against the hammering of her heart.
It wasn’t enough.
Stay with me. Run away with me. We can make it out of here together. All the things she wanted to say, trapped inside.
A man’s voice called out to him from the floor below. “Ren, time’s up!”
Kylo returned her hand. “I have to go.”
He walked away from her.
“Wait!”
He stopped, not looking back.
“Where’s Snoke sending you tonight?” she asked, voice high and slightly desperate.
He looked back, brows pinched with a look of consternation. “Why?”
“Are you going after—” She stopped herself from saying the words: San Tekka.
“Am I going after who?”
Rey turned away from him, terrified she would see the answer in his eyes.
She tried to walk away, but he stepped forward and grabbed her forearm, pulling her close.
“Listen. What you’re doing, it’s too dangerous. I know you want to get out of here, but this is not the way to do it.”
“I’m not—”
“Snoke wants you,” he said fiercely. “He wants to hurt you... to get to me.”
“To get to you?”
“Don’t let him in. No matter what he says. Keep your door locked.”
Snoke wants me, to get to you. The line rolled over in her mind—
“Promise me.”
She faltered; had she really become a tool for Snoke? One he was using to manipulate Kylo? And what would Snoke make him do tonight while he kept Rey’s body as ransom?
Would he kill Lor San Tekka?
Her mind rushed with questions. Should she warn Poe? It had to be San Tekka. The fight downstairs, the blood, the urgent, fearful pleading in Kylo’s voice.
Everything was moving too fast.
“Promise me,” he said again, sterner this time.
“Okay, okay,” she answered. “I won’t open the door to anyone but you.”
“Good.” He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, neatly folded. “Here, this Is my number. Call me if you need to.”
He turned to leave and by the time she had the courage to confront him not to do this, not to go this way, he left, locking the door behind him.
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