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ellana-ravenwood · 4 years ago

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“My fake boyfriend is a billionaire ?!” - Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : After a few shitty weeks of everything going wrong, you somehow find yourself faking a relationship with the one and only Bruce Wayne.

That’s it. I did it. After 3 years posting stories on this platform, I finally succumb to one of the biggest fanfiction cliché of all time haha. The infamous fake boyfriend trope. And I really hope you will like it :

My masterlist : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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The Gap Year of Disaster

Today, you were an utter mess, and you couldn’t care less.

You know, this kind of days where you wish you would just have stayed in bed ?

Where everything goes wrong and you just want to hide under your blanket and pretend you don't have any responsibilities ?

Well today…Today was most definitely this kind of day.

It was suppose to be your first day at an exciting new job and you were so psyched about it, that you hadn’t been able to sleep all night.

You finally fell into a deep slumber during the very early hours of the day, and…

Of course you woke up late ! You didn't have time to take a shower, or to do your make-up nicely or even to brush your hair. But worst of all you didn't have time to get coffee !

When you got out with your bike….it was pouring outside. Ah but of course, because when one thing goes wrong everything has to follow. Everything WILL go wrong. Murphy's law or some stupid things like that !

It's in those moments you wish you had a car ! Because when it rained in Gotham…It felt like Noah was ordered to built another ark !

So, sleep deprived, soaked, in a bad mood and looking like a mess, you managed, by some miracle, to arrive at your job on time.

Only to discover that this wasn’t at all what you were expecting. It was NOT what was promised to you, which was experience in an exciting workplace and a way to make the most of it.

Instead, it was a desk job where you ran errand for everyone. Amazing.

This was supposed to be your first try at “real life”, this was why you took that gap year from college.

“I want to find myself, find who I really am !” You told everyone around you, ignoring those who were negative and telling you you should finish your study first.

Now, as you were stuck in a tiny cubicle with an endless list of coffee orders you had to get for everyone else, you felt like maybe they were right, and that this wasn’t quite the way you were going to “find yourself”.

Then again, wasn’t it through hardship that this sort of things unlocked ? Wasn’t it with great determination and knowing how it was to struggle, that you were going to thrive ? That’s what they said in TED talks dedicated to “success”...

So far in your life, things had been rather normal. Not particularly easy, but not hard either. You grew up in a small town in New Jersey, no troubles on the horizon. You then moved to Gotham for college as you had a scholarship for Gotham’s University, and as you were about to start your third year you sort of questioned wether or not this was your path...

One of your favorite professor told you to maybe take a gap year. A few semesters off, to think things through. Taking advantage of it to do some soul searching and try to know what you really wanted and...It sounded wonderful !

That’s when you started to have job interviews in many different fields, and it took you three months to finally find something. Three very stressful months of wondering how long you could live off of your measly savings, and wether or not you’d have to move back in with your parents (anything but that !)...Not a very good start to that gap year for sure.

And when you landed what you thought was going to be a great job, things definitely were looking up ! Ah, but the fact that you were chosen while you had NO experience and such, should’ve been your first warning that this was too good to be true.

You were trying to stay positive though. Maybe it was only for the first day ? Maybe their coffee person was sick or something ? It’d get more interesting later ? Yes. Yes let’s keep a positive outlook on everything.

Except right now, as your entire morning was made of you walking up and down the building (the elevator was not working, but of course), to the coffee shop at the corner of the street, and bringing back orders for people, you didn’t feel in the mood to try and stay cheery.

And the worst in all that ? You didn't even get ONE cup for yourself…This “real life” thing was not starting very well.

And so here you were, during your lunch break, looking like a mess, bag under your eyes and still wet from the rain (your trips up and down the street for coffee runs not helping drying yourself off), your morale at its lowest..And…

"That'll be 3 dollars and 50 cents for the large latte with triple espresso shot, m'am."

Catastrophe.

Proof that things could ALWAYS get worst.

As you were looking through your bag, you couldn't find your wallet !

Did you leave it at home ?! Maybe.

People at your work gave you the money to buy them coffee (and not a single tips, bunch of cheapskates). And you didn’t notice you were missing that oh so essential part of your daily life...Your credit card. Or any type of money.

Damn it !

“Um, excuse me miss, that’s 3,50 please ?”

“Oh yes yes, um, you know what I just-”

“Here, miss, you dropped this.”

As you were about to explain that in fact, you didn’t need coffee (even if when you asked for it you might’ve mentioned it being a question of “life or death”), too embarrass to admit you didn’t have the money to buy it, a...very handsome man handed you a twenty dollars bill.

You were a hundred percent sure this wasn’t yours. You never carry lose cash like this. A quick look to his kind deep blue eyes, and soft smile, and you realize...

Oh. Great. A total (very handsome) stranger took pity of you.

You probably looked even worst than you felt. You were about to say this was a mistake, but before you could, he gave the bill to the barista, and left with a last smile to you, taking his own cup of coffee away with him.

Damn. You didn’t have time to say “thank you”. He vanished as fast as he appeared, disappearing in the crowd of the busy coffee shop.

“Here’s your change, m’am.”

“Ah you know what ? Keep it buddy. Thanks for the coffee.”

“Wow, thanks !”

You were pretty sure that barista never had such a big tip, and it oddly made you feel better, to make someone else’s day like that. Your grandma did always say that you found true joy from helping others...

Oh, yeah, ok, you just helped someone out, why was the universe so angry at you ?!

As you turned around and started to leave, almost at the exist of the shop, mood a little better after this nice encounter with a (again, handsome) stranger, and the barista, you see him.

Him. One of the reason you sort of decided to take a gap year.

Him.

Your ex-boyfriend, Eric, who cheated on you with your friend Monica. Needless to say, it wasn’t a good memory. And you hadn’t seen neither him nor her since you left college, especially not since you heard they actually got together.

Your FRIEND. With your BOYFRIEND. And it went on for a while, before you finally discovered it (that day was as shitty as today...).

Oh. And of course Eric wasn’t alone. She, was there too. The one you thought was your friend, and who stabbed you in the back like that. Both of them discarding you like a dirty old sock.

Great. Really. Awesome. This day was going from “bad” to “please kill me.”

“(Y/N) !”

He looks surprised to see you, although also a little pleased. And it makes you want to punch him in the face. You don’t care if it’s because he wished things ended another way, they both betrayed your truth and then never even tried to talk to you again afterward.

You’re not sure you would’ve forgave them, but at least, it would’ve shown they still cared about you in a way. Nobody chooses who they’re going to fall in love with (that, you’d soon discover for yourself). But she was your best friend. And he was with you for over a year.

She’s a little more awkward than him, and smiles, clearly embarrassed. You always knew she was a bit of a coward, if she wasn’t, she would’ve face you, right ?

And that’s when it happened. The decision that would forever change your life.

In this great moment filled with despair and awkwardness.

From the corner of your eyes, you saw that nice stranger who paid for your coffee. The handsome one. He didn’t leave the shop, but instead went to seat at a table that was a little further away than the rest of them.

His eyes were glued to his phone, and you thought : “Well, fuck it, all this can’t get any worst right ?”

You were sort of hoping that, since he had been nice with you once and offered you those twenty dollars without knowing you (although you were very aware it was probably just pity), maybe he could help again ?

Maybe it was the fatigue, the fact you were getting sadder and sadder, that you had a terrible day, and that you just saw two people you loved and who threw you away like you meant nothing (oh but not before being super fake to you, pretending they WEREN’T cheating behind your back)...maybe it was a combination of all of that, that made you act crazy.

But here you found yourself, sitting at that stranger’s table, and saying, as he looked up from his phone clearly surprised :

“How are you guys ? As you can see, I’m great.”

You don’t dare to look at the handsome stranger, and hope he’ll be too stunned to say anything, and you can make your ex-friend and ex-boyfriend feel embarrass enough they’ll leave quickly. But then Monica says something that makes your heart skip multiple beats :

“You...You know Bruce Wayne ?!”

You turn to the man who gracefully paid for your coffee, and your eyes go wide. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. How did you NOT recognize him ?! Of course. Chiseled face, beautiful blue eyes, a suit that was definitely worth your entire year’s salary, a very charming aura...

Your hazy mind full of “fuck this day” didn’t register that THE Bruce Wayne, was the one who helped you out. How did you miss that ? His face had been plastered everywhere in Gotham for the past year, since he came back to the city, in fact.

You hear yourself wish with all your might to be struck by lightning this instant, as the two assholes who hurt you so much are looking at you expectantly and are not about to live (of course, they just met celebrity BRUCE WAYNE !! Could someone be as unlucky as you were today ?!)

And that’s when you hear a chuckle, a beautiful deep chuckle, and finally turn to look at Bruce. He smiles at you, and takes your hand, saying :

“Honey, who are your friends ?”

Your brain go full “ERROR 404″, not quite able to grasp the fact that THE Bruce Wayne just ran with what you were trying to do. How ? How was this possible ? You initially went to sit with him in the hope that Eric and Monica would see you were totally ok and with a hot date, not quite sure still yet how you ever thought this was a good idea and...

It was turning out alright ?!

HOW ?!

“Oh um, I’m..Eric. And this is my gir...This is Monica.”

What a piece of shit. Not even brave enough to call her his “girlfriend” when he cheated on you with her for months and months. You glare at him, unable to stop this gut reaction.

And that’s something Bruce caught.

In fact, as soon as you sat down, avoiding looking at him and nervously looking at those two people, Bruce sort of knew you were in an uncomfortable situation. One that made you take an irrational decision.

And oh, he didn’t like the look Eric and Monica gave you. Like they felt superior as they caught you in a bad moment. Bruce hated, people who thought they were superior to others...

And you clearly seemed in distress and in need of help so...He ran with it.

Bruce had to pretend to be someone he wasn’t enough that it felt natural, to run along with what your hazy mind thought was a good idea.

“Nice to meet you, are you friends with-”

Damn it. He realized he didn’t know your name. Quick thinking saved him, and he managed to keep his tone even, as to hide his hesitation :

“My love ?”

His hand around yours felt warm and reassuring, and you still couldn’t believe that, not only a total stranger, but THE Bruce Wayne was helping you out like that. Especially after you had such a bad day.

Him calling you his “love” made your exes feel very awkward, and they shake their head “no”, suddenly pretending they’re very busy and have to meet up with someone. They leave the coffee shop, clearly stunned, whispering things to each others that you knew were probably : “how did she get a guy like him ?!”

You can’t help but glare at them some more...But then your hand feels cold again, and you realize Bruce let go off it. Well. Duh. Of course he would.

You turn to him, your feature softening, and say :

“Are you an angel ?”

Ah yes. Your defense mechanism. “Humor”.

He chuckles, and says :

“Well, I’m afraid not. My butler would think this is very funny. But thank you.”

Awkwardly, you rub your neck, your free hand nervously turning your cup of coffee clockwise in your palm. You don’t really know how to end this, what : “thanks for that” and leave ?

“Thanks for the coffee. And for um...Saving my ass, just there.”

He smiles, and wow hello white teeth and charming dimples ?!

“You’re very welcome. They looked like they were jerks.”

“Haha oh you have no idea.”

“Glad I could help.”

“Thanks again. Really. This means a lot, especially since we don’t know each others. Well, I know you. Everyone in Gotham does haha. And ok I’m going to leave now, my lunch break is almost over and I don’t want to make this even more awkward.”

You start to rise up, but he holds you back by catching your sleeve, and says :

“Actually miss…?”

“(Y/L/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Miss (Y/L/N), you are kind of saving my life right now.”

“…I am ?”

A flash blinds you. Not a lightning, a camera flash. You turn, just in time to see a guy hastily hiding a camera and running away.

“What the...”

“A paparazzi. Good timing, for once.”

“Huh ?”

You wish you had some witty come back, or would just know what to say. But you’re confused. And this has been a really weird day.

“I am sorry if this will seem forward, or like I helped you wanting something in exchange. But I promise I will make it worth your while if you just sit back down and listen to me for a few minutes.”

You sit back down. More because you’re unsure your leg can still support you in this moment, than because he asked you to. With a smile he continues :

“Thank you. So. Let me explain a little, and again, sorry if this is too forward. If you don’t want to help of course, I would understand. I’m about to ask you something rather odd, I guess. And I’ll clear things up with paparazzis. I also promise I did not help you with your “friends”-”

“They’re not my friends.”

“I figured that much. And I promise I didn’t help you with them and ran with whatever you were trying, just so I could ask you this.”

“Ask me what ?”

“Well, you see…it’s arranged marriage season.”

“What ?”

“Every year, every single rich family try to make me marry their single daughters. It’s a very tiring season, but I’ve never been able to avoid it…I thought about having a fake fiancee before but could never find the right person.”

What he says does not register with you. His clear proposal doesn’t hit your brain. And you just stare at him, waiting for him to keep going. But he doesn’t, and by the way he looks at you, you slowly starts to understand where he’s getting at.

You gasp, now pretty sure this is all a dream (or a nightmare) and say :

“And I’m the right person ?”

“Well, yes. You seem to be a...“normal” person.”

“…Thanks.”

“In that case it’s good. It’s very good. It means that if I’m dating you, a woman that has nothing to bring me, then it must be true love.”

“Wow, stop with the flatteries already mister Wayne, I can’t handle it…”

Ah, your slight wits are back. Good sign that you’re regaining your senses. Everything that happened in the last ten minutes still feel like a bad dream, but you’re back in reality now.

“No no no, I didn’t mean it in a demeaning way ! But it’s just, you’re not rich, and you’re not famous or have political ties. You’re just a regular person. So they won’t think I’m trying to trick them, even if I am, do you know what I mean ?”

“Gotcha. My broke ass person cannot bring you any value, so it must be love and not just an arranged thing they can break. Cool.”

There’s a slight silence. And you find it a little fun, to play a little bit with the famous Bruce Wayne. He seemed so confident and cocky on TV, you never thought you’d be able to make him look so guilty.

“I’m sorry if I offended you.”

He says, clearly meaning it. But you shake your head and smile at him (and oh why does he feel his heart tightening slightly at your smile ?), and reassure him instantly (you feel a little bad, actually, to mess with him while he did just really do a huge favor to you while he had no obligations to) :

“Haha, just messin’ around with ya Mster Wayne. I’m not bothered by it, it’s the truth. I’m really broke, and I don’t think you could find more “regular” than me right now. So, and because you really did save my ass from an extremely displeasing experience back there. And also because you allowed me to see those assholes’ face of surprise and “how did she manage that ?!”, tell me more about your plan, and let’s see if I can help you back.”

And so Bruce starts to explain to you how, every year, this beginning of Fall is the worst time ever, as it’s a moment where everyone seems to want to marry off their daughter. And of course, Bruce Wayne is a good “party”.

The plan was fairly simple. You’d fake a relationship with him, so he could avoid all of this, and in exchange...Well. You’d gain a lot in exchange.

This is how you started to really feel like you had fallen into a “romcom” by accident...You and Bruce, became an actual living trope.

************

“And then when the “marrying season” is done, you can break it off.”

“I ?”

“Well yes, I can assure you you’ll gain quite a rep if you break up with me haha.”

You raise an eyebrow, unsure you like that sort-of overly confident side of him. But you can see something behind his eyes, like a slight unsureness as he looks back at you, trying to see if you’ll agree or not.

“I don’t really need a “reputation”.”

Breaking up with THE Bruce Wayne himself. For sure people would talk about it a lot, and maybe it would help open some doors for you ? But you felt a little odd taking advantage of this like that.

Seeing that he hadn’t convinced you quite yet, he adds :

“Of course, I will pay you.”

What kind of Pretty Woman sort of nonsense was this ?! You were about to protest when he added, realizing how he sounded :

“I mean, you ARE doing me a great service. You ARE going to have to act, you know ? An...actual job ? And I will be honest with you, it won’t be easy, to find yourself in the public eye. I think it definitely justify a salary.”

Put that way, you had to admit that, well, yeah it sort of did. Especially since you knew how crazy tabloids were about Bruce Wayne. Becoming his “girlfriend” would definitely put you on the front lines.

“And it would truly help me tremendously.”

Your grandma always said it : “True joy comes out from helping others !” So. What if you benefit from it a little ? If it helps you financially, and you can get a little network out of it ? First rule of Alchemy (what a weeb) : “equivalent exchange” ! Plus, he did really help you with your coffee, but also with Eric and Monica so...

And hey, this gap year was meant to help you find what and who you wanted to be. Help you go through this little twenty-something crisis. And this ? Living a literal romantic comedy cliche by faking being someone’s girlfriend ? Well, it definitely felt like the kind of adventure that could help you figure things out.

With a smile, you finally nod and shake his hand, not knowing quite yet in which mess you actually put yourself into...

Briefing.

Like every “secret mission”, this one too needed a “briefing”.

A little meeting to put all the rules down, and the goals too.

And here you were, feeling very out of place in a huge conference room in the biggest and tallest building in Gotham : “Wayne Tower”.

The concierge stared at you for a very long time, when you said you were there to see Mister Wayne. No “nobody” like you ever called for his boss.

Suspicious, as it was his job, he called security on you...Until it was finally cleared up that you DID have a meeting with Bruce Wayne !

Both the concierge, and the security guys, stared at you as you left to take the elevators they indicated to you, wondering who the hell had the kind of credentials to go all the way up there to see their boss ?! They didn’t recognize you from anywhere, not a model, not a famous politician or CEO, just...A regular person ?

That was odd. And they noticed, it was odd. Which you assumed was what Bruce was aiming for, but it felt so awkward, to walk through this huge hall under their scrutiny.

You finally arrived on the right floor, and oh look, some more staring.

From his secretary, this time. She was used to see women coming to see her boss. But they’d usually wear Prada, and have plunging necklines full of pearls and fanciness. They weren’t...like you.

You felt like it was easy, to know that you were just a “normal” person. You were definitely not wearing any designer clothes, and you were pretty sure the way you carried yourself made you super obvious.

Hence all the staring. You could clearly see in her eyes, that she was wondering who the hell you were...

She had her answer when Bruce came out of his office, and made a gesture as if he was going to throw his arm around your waist, and kiss you (which made you downright panic). But then, he looked awkwardly at his secretary, and instead just shook your hand.

Something that DID NOT go unnoticed by his secretary.

You saw how her eyes widen, and how she clearly hitched to take her phone out and call everyone...and you realized Bruce did this awkward thing because he knew his secretary, and her tendency to be a little gossipy.

You’d discover later, in fact, that he hired her entirely because he knew if he said something, she would pick up on it and it would help him control rumors and such. Clever.

For the moment though, he took you to a large conference room with huge windows.

“I’m sorry for the weird “hello” back there, I wanted Shirley to think I was embarrassed to display affection to you in front of her. Usually, I do not mind at all. So doing it would make her think that-”

“I’m someone special to you.”

“Exactly !”

He smiles widely as you understood his plan (not sure how you felt about it, then again, that’s why you were here for, making sure you knew where both of you stood in all this), and then tells you he’ll be back in a few minutes.

You have time to feel anxious and stressed before he finally comes back.

“Sorry for the wait.”

“Oh no, I bet you’re a busy man.”

“Yes well. Anyway. Let’s get to it shall we ?”

“Yes.”

“Ok. So. I thought we’d settle sort of a little contract, so neither of us ever feel uncomfortable ?”

“Sounds good, mister Wayne.”

“Yes well first, please call me Bruce.”

“Only if you call me (Y/N).”

Oh and you two were still on the path of “romcom cliches”, with this conversation. He smiles, nods, and continues :

“Ok, then I thought we could-”

And so your fake relationship started, with some little ground rules. Like he could only kiss you after you gave him permission, if you ever felt overwhelmed everything would be called off, etc etc.

Most rules were in your favor, to be honest. And WOW the paycheck he was going to give you for this little farce...Hey, maybe this gap year was finally gonna get interesting ?

Meeting the Little Buddy.

It was sort of necessary. By then, Dick had been his son, officially, for a few months. He wasn’t calling him “dad” yet (and Bruce didn’t particularly want him to, at the time...ah but everything change one day, right ?), but they were already family.

And it was a needed step.

It wasn’t in the little “contract” you made, and honestly you could’ve refused to meet him but...Well, you liked kids. In another life, it felt like you could’ve been a teacher (A/N : AH, like in this story ;) : “Can you be my dad’s girlfriend, please ?” ).

And you’d feel awkward, to fake a relationship and not ever meet his boy.

The first time he saw you, it was at the Wayne Tower, and his eyes widened as he exclaimed :

“Wow you’re so pretty ! Are you Bruce’s girlfriend ? You’re too good for him, you know.”

You could feel your heart melt, how adorable this little guy was, right ? You chuckled, and almost full on laughed as you saw how vexed Bruce was by the comment.

Not that he thought he was too good for you, no, he was just a little unhappy his son was stealing the show, and thought he couldn’t land someone like you...Oh but that, you couldn’t guess at the time, of course.

“Nice to meet you, Dick. I’m (Y/N). And...I’m not really his girlfriend.”

“Can you be mine then ?”

You laugh again. You and Bruce had decided to tell him the truth, Bruce assuring you that kid was good at pretending too. You answer :

“No, I’m saving him from marriage proposal.”

“Oooooh !”

Good at pretending. Dick had no idea what you were on about, but he was very good at acting as if he knew.

It’s only way later, that he finally got it. By then, he already accepted you as : “his dad’s girlfriend”, and even knowing the truth, there was no way to change his mind. And to be honest, out of everyone, little Dick Grayson was probably the most aware of what the situation truly was.

He had a knack, to notice how people felt.

A “family” outing.

Two months in, and it was going GREAT. Faking a relationship was actually pretty easy. All you had to do was hanging out with him (and he was very nice to hang out with), and when a paparazzi was around, quickly kiss his cheek, or hold his hand, or let him put his hand in your hair...All those cute things new couples do.

Today was one such small date.

You could see Bruce was nervous, though.

After hanging around with him that many times, you started to know him a little better. Started to know he wasn’t really that persona he portrayed publicly.

He was actually quite a dork. What a pity, nobody else would ever know his real self...Yet, it made you happy you were one of the few in on the secret.

“Ok, out with it mister, what’s up ?”

He looks at you with such surprise in his eyes, as if it was the first time someone guessed what he was feeling...and, well, yes. It was. It was the first time someone who wasn’t Alfred got it. Someone realized something was on his mind. And asked him about it, didn't just ignore and move on. Actually cared to know.

“I-Um...”

“Well ? Come on, I think literally nothing can surprise me by now, given you know, I’m faking a relationship with a billionaire, and it’s like, my job now.”

He smiles, and he couldn't possibly know how soft his look was, as he gazed at you.

“I...well, people don’t quite believe in us because-”

“WHAT ?! With all the “dates” and kisses and lovey dovey shit we did ?!”

He chuckles at your reaction, loving how honest you always were, and adds :

“The problem apparently is that you weren’t seen with my son yet, so many don’t believe we’re serious.”

“Oh...”

You met Dick. Because it felt like a necessary step to yours and Bruce’s scheme. And you knew he knew this was all fake...But neither of you wanted to confuse the boy in any way so he was kept mostly out of the plan.

“I talked to him, and it’s actually really up to wether you’re comfortable with it or not. I know he wasn’t part of our contract, and I should’ve probably thought about it, I’m sorry. But um...If you’re ok with it, we could..Do things with him, too ?”

Bruce is really nervous; And you’re pretty sure no one but you (and maybe Alfred) ever saw him like that. It’s kind of...sweet. But you let the silence linger for too long and he hurries to say :

“You really don’t have to ! It’s ok if they don’t think we’re that serious and I get some proposals. I can manage ! You’re still a great help right now. It was just an idea. Dick is a very social kid, he would go along with anything and loves to do activities outside. He would be fine. But if you’re not then we can-”

“No. No no it’s...It’s ok Bruce. The few time I saw him, Dick did seem absolutely a peach to be around. And I always have fun with you, so sure, let’s organize a little something and show those bastards we’re totally real.”

You chuckle a little, your smile and carefree face making his heart skip a beat, for some reasons...Bruce also decided to ignore how happy it made him, to know you were always glad to be with him, and instead, he smiled and settled a date.

************

And here you were. In one of Gotham’s biggest park, opening a basket full of delicious sandwiches made by the one and only Alfred. Pretending to have a great family outing.

“Hey, hey look !”

Dick was absolutely amazing, at acting as if you were really a thing. As if you were really a “family”. Right now, he was doing flips and cartwheels, demanding your attention with avidity.

Bruce made sure to always hide his face from pictures (he was GREAT at noticing where paparazzis were hiding, a life of practice, you assumed), as he wanted to keep as much as he could his son’s privacy (especially after he made all the headlines when he lost his parents).

It was quite adorable. And...You were really having fun.

Dick was such a lively kid, and he was full of talents. The food was good, and it was so comfortable around Bruce. It felt so natural.

This wasn't all that bad. To fake being a family. A good use of your gap year, really.

You purposefully decided to ignore the glint in the boy’s eyes. The way you sort of suspected for him, this was getting real, and not only pretend.

You and Bruce purposefully ignored it, actually. And you both felt shitty for it. Because not only were you risking to break that little boy’s heart when it was all over but...It was too hard to accept that maybe, maybe he was right.

And that all of this ? Might’ve not been as fake as you’d love to repeat yourself.

First Official outing.

First gala. You were terrified. So far all you had to do was hang out with Bruce in the afternoon, there and there. It mainly consisted in him buying you coffee, and keeping the addiction to caffeine real, while talking about anything that would come to your mind. The conversations between you two was always fluid and pleasant.

Or you’d go out with him and Dick, to do some fun things like mini-golf or catching a movie. Nothing too big and scary. It was mainly just you guys, no one else.

It seemed like he knew where the paparazzis would be (most likely because he was “anonymously” tipping them off himself), and he’d take you on random short dates when he had time in between his work, slowly fueling the rumors Bruce was not a heart to steal anymore.

And that he was dating a “commoner” ! (He hated this name for you, while you really didn’t mind that much).

And this gala, was what made it completely official. Finally. It was your idea, to take things “slow”, and hang out with him and his son BEFORE hanging out in public areas like this.

It was clever, really. To make it seems like you were trying to “hide” your relationship by being low-key, to then finally announce everything in public like that, at such an event.

Bruce went to get a drink for the both of you, and you were looking around you, horrified at the mere idea that someone would come talk to you.

But for some reasons, nobody seemed to dare. Maybe Bruce made sure that people would leave you alone ? Even as if you were clearly the talk of the evening, all eyes on you, and not even trying to be subtle ?

You knew he did the same with little Dickie. That he made sure he was safe from the paparazzi and that no unsolicited journalist would come around him.

Thinking of it, where was the little one ? Usually, according to Bruce, whenever there was a gala he would spend his entire time near the food table, eating as much as he could, and he would come home feeling nauseous because of it...Haha sounded like Dick alright. That kid was so-

Oh oh.

Who was that sleazy looking gal talking to him ? He seemed so uncomfortable, yet too polite to brush her off...Oh no, she wasn’t one of them, was she ?

Without thinking twice about it, wether it was your place to do what you were about to do or not, you resolutely walked towards them.

“-Think it’s because he relates to you ? As both of you lost your parents in horrific situations, you know ?”

“I-I don’t know m’am.”

When you saw Dick’s distressed face, and his eyes slowly filling with tears, there was no doubt in your mind.

This woman was not supposed to be there, and was definitely not supposed to talk to that child...

This woman was a - shiver of disgust- tabloid journalist.

Your blood boiled as you saw her take a picture of the teary eyed Dickie, and you were standing protectively in front of him before you could even think about it. When you felt the boy clutch to your sleeve, hiding behind you and holding on for dear life, you knew you wouldn’t regret it.

“Can I ask you why you’re talking to that boy, please ?”

“What, it’s illegal to talk to fellow guests now ?”

“Lady, you’re well in your thirties. He’s eight. You have no right talking to him. Not only is it weird, but I know what you’re doing.”

“Oh, and pray tell, what am I doing, lovey ?”

“You’re trying to get a story out of him. And you should be ashamed of yourself. He’s eight ! And from what I heard, you were asking some very disgusting things back there !”

“I-”

“Shut up.”

Your words came out harsh and determined, and the woman was so shocked she stayed silent for a while. You crouch down to Dick’s level, and ask :

“Are you ok, my little buddy ?”

He nods weakly, and then burst into tears as he launches himself in your arms, clinging to you tightly. You turn your head towards the woman, glaring at her so fiercely she doesn’t dare to take a picture of the scene, even as she knows she could sell them for a golden price.

“You should be ashamed of yourself. He’s just a child !”

The woman was about to say something else, something you knew would fuel your anger further, when Bruce arrived, and it was clear from his face that he was not happy.

A quick look to you holding his crying son in your arms, and to the lady with the camera in her hands, and he understand what happened. With a cold voice you never heard him use before, he says :

“I suggest you leave the area now, before I force you to.”

There was something almost scary, in his demeanor. Almost like...No. Impossible. In any case, you didn’t worry about it much, drawing soothing circles with your hand on Dick’s back, trying to calm him.

People around quickly stopped staring as they met Bruce’s assassin glare. It was not secret, that he was very protective of his son. And of his new girlfriend, apparently.

You picked the little boy in your arms (Dick, at the time, was still so tiny), and Bruce comes closer, trying to soothe him too. And it really looked like all this was real...

Dick fell asleep in Bruce’s arms shortly after that, and was still there when it was time for the gala official pictures. Not wanting to wake him up, for once, Bruce allowed people to photograph the boy, as long as they did not frame his face.

He laid his free hand on the small of your back, and just like you got used to those past months, you pretend to be head over heels for him and have one of your own arm around his waist.

“Would you please allow me to kiss you on the cheek, for the cameras ?”

His question is so sweet, softly whispered in your ears. And you felt like a tease tonight, and maybe a little tipsy too. You tell him :

“On the cheek only ? Let’s give them a show no ? Let them forget about what happened with Dick.”

Of course, you’re only joking, but there’s a light in Bruce’s eyes you haven’t seen before and...It disappears quickly. He chuckles, of that low chuckles that would charm anyone in the world, and says :

“I don’t want to force you to do anything you wouldn’t want to. Actually kissing me, I realize, might be too much.”

You know he caught on your joke, but you can’t brush off that light in his eyes that ignited when you suggested to kiss him...You don’t know why, and it feels you’re not controlling your own words, as you hear yourself say :

“Oh because kissing you would be such a horrible thing wouldn’t it ? Oh my, you’re only one of the handsomest man in Gotham, a rather attractive fella, how could I handle kissing you ? So disgusting !”

Your tone is teasing, and a little bit challenging. He catches on that, too. He answers :

“But I am merely here to serve. I will do as you wish. You only have to say the words.”

His smile fills your vision. His face. And the way he softly holds your waist, even as his other arms is carrying his son (the man was BUILT). And you think...Well, fuck it ! It was time for the first (fake) kiss, right ?

Right here, in front of the cameras, where everyone was seeing you. Making it go full circle. Making it “official”.

“Kiss me then, if you dare.”

You simply say. Releasing a breath you were unaware you were keeping in. And he feels his heart squeeze, and as if he’s sweating a bit. When was the last time he was nervous about kissing a woman ?

He couldn’t remember.

And then he kisses you, the flashes of cameras slowly fading away as his lips melt onto yours.

Wow. What a perfect, and nice, first kiss.

As fake as it might be.

Your room.

Your room at Wayne Manor was bigger than your entire apartment.

You and Bruce decided that sometimes, so you wouldn’t raise any suspicion, you’d sleep at the Manor. Paparazzi were so on top of everything, it would seem weird if he was in a “committed relationship” and you never slept at his place.

So Alfred settled a room for you.

Oh. Alfred ! You met him not long ago, and he was the best !

It felt like he could magically guess what you wanted when you wanted it, and magically appeared with that warm cup of tea you craved, or that meal you’ve been thinking about all day.

But beyond that, he was genuinely nice and made sure to make you as comfortable as possible. He showed you around, and his conversation was so pleasant !

You could actually see a lot of Bruce in him. Or, rather, it was evident that Alfred had raised Bruce most of his life, because they had a lot of similar mannerism, and were both kind and caring (Ah, imagine if Superman knew what you thought of Bruce, how crazy it’d sound to him eh ? But of course, that you’d discover way WAY later).

You never went to explore much when it was time to go to bed, too afraid to get lost. This place was huge, and you never quite had a good sense of orientation.

One could only wonder, what would you have discovered if you ever dared to wake up during the night, and explore his home ?

Build a Bear.

Sometimes, Bruce really had to wrack his brain for original date ideas. Ever since he came back to Gotham, his dating days consist of pretending to sleep with every model in the World.

He’d take them to fashion shows, to galas, to charity events...All very public places, unsuitable for a “serious” relationship like he was hoping to make yours and his pass for.

Enter : Clever little Dickiebird, who always had an idea (and who might’ve been the best wingman someone like the Batman needed...that, of course, he’d discover it way, WAY later) :

“You can take her to a build a bear !”

“Build...a bear ?”

“Yeah, you know. You go and you make your own teddy bear !”

“I do know, I took you to get Chester - the name of Dick’s favorite plushie toy now, and maybe with which he slept-. But...For a date ?”

“What ? It’s cute and intimate !”

“Huh ?”

It has been a long time, since Alfred Pennyworth had to hold his laughter in that hard, and try to stay impeccably neutral. And there, faced with his master Bruce, who was known as the “ultimate womanizer”, the “perfect playboy”, and who was currently taking advice from his eight years old son...It was really hard to keep a straight face.

It was also incredibly adorable. Especially how Bruce seemed to genuinely listen to the little one, unaware that he seemed actually way too interested for things just to be for his “fake relationship” to be more convincing.

Not that Alfred was going to tell Bruce anything.

“Dick, you know (Y/N) isn’t really my girlfriend, right ?”

The way the boy talked about taking you to a date, felt to Bruce like he was forgetting this was all fake. And it was important to remind him.

But Dick had to invoke all the efforts in the world to not roll his eyes as to say : “sure she isn’t”, by now, it was oh so obvious to everyone but you and Bruce that there was a very real thing forming between you two.

Instead, he said :

“But you’re suppose to make the public really believe it right ? If you take her to build a bear, I can assure you they will think you guys are the real deal.”

Bruce pondered this for a little bit, and realized that his son was right. It did seem like a cute and intimate date to bring your girl to, even if she was your fake girl...

Ah. Bruce forgot his own words. “Dick is great at pretending.” He is. He really is. Just like right now, he was pretending his idea was completely innocent, while he knew it would bring you two ever so closer.

That whenever you’d see those bears you were going to build in your home, you’d think of one another. And remember fondly of the memory.

And oh. Oh that boy was right.

Your bear was sitting proudly on your couch, and every time you saw it, you remembered how clumsy Bruce had been, filling his own bear up. And how cute he was, carefully thinking of his options.

And every time Bruce saw his own bear, that Alfred, for some reason, settled in the Batcave on the “trophy shelves” (and for some reason Bruce didn’t take it off of it...), he couldn’t help but think how he had genuine fun that day.

Genuine fun, for the first time in what felt like ages. And how your smiling and giggling face didn’t seem to leave his mind, whenever he saw that bear...

Conniving traitors.

“We both agree, he’s in love with her right ? He’s just too dense to realize it.”

“Oh yes, young Master Richard, he definitely is. And he is dense, at times.”

“Should we do anything ?”

“No more than what you’re already doing.”

“Which is ?”

“Which is continuing to push them in the...Right direction.”

“Oh ! I get it ! I’ll keep going Al’!”

“And I’m sure you’ll make miracles, young master.”

Dick’s smile to the old butler was so pure and happy, that Alfred had a hard time keeping his composure once again.

And oh. Oh how he wish they were right, and that his Master Bruce would FINALLY allow himself to be happy...

Rumors and Truth

Bruce was just a tiny bit older than you. 24, according to his wikipedia page.

And you couldn't help but be a little jealous, as you were looking at the page to re-enroll yourself in Gotham’s university, knowing he was done with college.

Then again, he was obviously a genius and would’ve been done faster than you anyway, even if you were the same age, since he finished his PhD just the year before, while most people don't even START their doctorate until they're around 23/24.

Mmmm. Made you think. Was this just yet another rumors about the man ?

Maybe not, after all it was proven he started college at age 14, and in Ivy Leagues ones, all across the world.

From Cambridge, to Oxford, without forgetting La Sorbonne (A/N : by the way, this is canon haha, Bruce really did start college that early and went to many different places, and honestly, is anyone surprised ?).

This wasn't really something you absolutely couldn't believe, compared to other crazy rumors about him. And you knew he WAS smart.

By then, you couldn't count how many things were circulating about him, and how hard it was to know the truth from just plain old rumors.

He had over a thousand lovers, he had MORE than one PhD (impossible, right ?), he had died once but survived somehow, he was part of a cult, he often lost his status as a billionaire because he gave so much money to charities and such, but his companies meddled in so many areas that his bank account was always filled more and more…

Honestly that last part didn't really surprise you. You saw him gave his money away to things he cared about (like education and medical care) without a second thoughts, so the fact he constantly oscillated between "billionaire" and "multi-millionaire" didn't really surprise you, not when you knew him like you did now.

You totally trusted the rumors that said that by now, he gave away more than he currently owned. It sounded like him alright…But how to know the truth from the downright crazy ? Did he really have a PhD or was this just an addition to how special and different Bruce Wayne was in Gotham ? What kind of PhD did he have anyway ? 1000 lovers, really ?!

So many questions. And not a lot of answers. Even if you grew closer (as friends, of course), Bruce was still somewhat of a mystery to you.

He never really tried to dismiss rumors, even the bad ones (unless they touched his son). Which made you wonder if they were true or not. And you really, really, for some reasons, wanted to know more about him...

“Is something the matter ?”

He asks. Oh goddamn you, day dreaming on one of your regular “coffee date”.

You shake your head, sipping on your drink and say :

“Was just thinking about...Tabloids.”

“Ah.”

He frowns. For understandable reasons.

“I was just thinking about wether some rumors were true or not.”

“What do you think is not true ?”

“I don’t really know, and you never really say a rumor is false so it’s hard to know.”

“Do you want to know anything in particular ?”

Bruce knows it’s dangerous, to let you enter his private life like that. There’s a reason, after all, why he never dismisses any rumors.

It helped build his fake persona, and take away any suspicions that he might be the infamous Batman.

But he felt weak, around you. As if he just wanted to please you, no matter what. Sometimes, he felt dangerously close to just tell you : “ask me anything and I’ll tell you the truth”, even if it meant revealing his night activities...

Crazy, right ?

He knew it was. And that he shouldn’t let it happen. Yet here he was, asking if you wanted to know something. Craving your attention. It felt so unlike him. But...You seemed to unlock a certain part of him.

The one that didn’t die with his parents, and remained hidden. The one that was the old little Bruce, full of hope, honesty and happiness. Full of wish for the future...Even if he knew there was none.

“How was college, for you ?”

You hear yourself asking, really wondering if it was true he was 14 when he started, and if it was...How different you guys were, right ? You were 21 right now, and taking a gap year after two years of college...When he was your age, he had already finished a master (or even maybe two).

"My college years were actually pretty boring, and unlike some rumors say, weren't particularly wild. I was really young."

"Ah, I heard the rumors."

"Those are true, I'm afraid haha."

"Afraid ? You're a genius !"

Which is why you found, more and more, his "himbo" persona to be odd. WHat was Bruce Wayne trying to hide ? Mmm…

Bruce recognized that look in your eyes. The look of someone who was onto something, and it was too frightening to let it happen. So he said :

"Yes well, I feel I missed a lot, during those years. Which is why I make it up now hahaha !"

His boisterous laughter seemed genuine, and totally fooled you. You couldn't always be on top of everything eh ? And this, did answer your question about his himbo persona…Oh, Bruce was good.

And he knew it. He trained for years, to make sure nobody would ever even suspect him to be Batman.

But he had to be careful with you. He knew it. It was obvious. You weren't that easy to fool…

The Day Batman saved you.

The fact he had to be careful with you was confirmed not long after. When, as Batman, he came to your rescue.

He should’ve known, that even with a voice changer, and a mask covering most his face, plus a demeanor that was completely different from his usual one, you’d still get suspicious...He should’ve known because he, by then, knew you quite well.

But, what ? Was he suppose to just let you get mugged ?

He couldn’t.

Even if in the grand scheme of things, it would’ve been better, and he would definitely intervene if it got too rough...He couldn’t.

He couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt, or feeling distressed.

He knew this was stupid. That he shouldn’t get so attached. That muggings weren’t really his area of expertise, that to stop them, he had to hit the big bosses. He knew. Small thugs weren’t his target. He had a much bigger vision. And rationally, he should be somewhere else right now.

Yet he couldn’t resolve himself to. Because, and that was a dangerous thought and feeling, he was in l-

“Why are we spying on your girlfriend ?”

Dick’s voice takes him out of his reveries, good. It WAS getting dangerous. Still keeping you in his field of vision (you were slowly going back to your apartment, a few minutes still, and he could leave to do other things knowing you were safe and sound in your home), he answered :

“We’re not spying on her, we’re making sure she’s safe. And she’s not my girlfriend, you know that.”

“Oh yeah ? We’ve been following your “totally not girlfriend” since the night started, awfully looks to me like we’re um, you know, stalking her.”

“We’re not.”

“Suuuuuuuuuure.”

Bruce gives an annoyed look to his son, who had way too big a smug face right now, and says :

“The night is calm, if something comes up we’ll go. But right now, it’s alright. And it has been made official, that she and I are a couple.”

“Fake couple.”

“Fake one to us, not to the public eye.”

“Ooooooh !”

Connections were quickly made in the boy’s head, and he understood why they were following her. After all, this was Gotham. And if THE Bruce Wayne had ONE known lover...Well, it was easy to know it’d attract some nasty business.

Dick was about to make a smug remark of which he had a talent for, when it happened. He pointed at you, fear in his eyes, and Bruce focused your way again.

“Stay here.”

“What why ?! I wanna help her too !”

“Because she’s too smart not to put two and two if she sees you with me. She knows us in our day lives. She’ll recognize us for sure, if we’re together.”

“Oh...”

“Just stay still, ok ?”

“Ok.”

Without a second thought, Bruce jumped down in the street down below, under Dick’s worried eyes. If anything happened to you, he knew his dad would never be the same again.

And he knew he couldn’t bear to lose yet another person he cared about. Even loved. Yes. Yes Dick loved you, as if you really were part of his family...

The months of “faking” family outings made it so. Your worst fear happened. Dick was getting attached, hardcore. And he really hoped you and Bruce would figure out you were actually in love with each others before the end of your “contract”, and before his sometimes very dense dad would decide to let you go...

For now though, he was anxiously looking at Bruce making his way to you, after he spotted a suspicious group of men genuinely stalking you.

************

“Hey pretty girl, can we talk ?”

You stop in your track, turning around, cursing yourself for not having the instinct to just take off running. Oh. But you can see at least one of them has a gun. You can’t run faster than a bullet...

“Ah it is you, isn’t it ?”

You don’t answer, knowing what they mean. Bruce sort of warned you against this. But you didn't take his warnings seriously, and here you were, going home at night, something he definitely told you not to do.

You just couldn’t sleep that night, and needed a walk...And here you were.

“You’re gonna come nicely with us, right ?”

“I dont’ think so.”

Uh ? You’re pretty sure that weird robotic voice wasn’t yours. Even if that’s exactly what you wanted to say. And that’s...oh wow.

That’s when you see him. Batman.

Immediately, the atmosphere grow even tenser. And you can see the thugs who wanted to take you with them fearfully looking at him.

“This has nothing to do with you Batman, leave us alone, we didn’t do anything wrong !”

“It has everything to do with me. Leave.”

“We have to-You don’t understand. We have to take her to-”

“Nowhere. Leave.”

Even if he was protecting you, you had to admit that, that dude was frightening. He had his back to you, and even then, he looked so intimidating and tall and broad...

Bruce was tall and broad too. But he was soft and sweet, not scary at all.

“OH MY GOD LOOK OUT !!”

One of the thug had a gun pointed at Batman. Right at his head. He didn’t have the time to enforce his helmet yet, and if he shot around his mouth, he was done for...

A rock coming out of nowhere hit the thug right in the face.

Coming out of nowhere ? To you, maybe. But Bruce knew that this was little Dickie’s doing. “Robin always has Batman’s back”, he said often...

For the time being, the one taking his gun out being knocked out triggered a “fight or flight” reaction in the others, and as two took off running (and were mysteriously hit by rocks too, knocking them out), three decided to attack Batman.

Bad move.

Very bad move.

In a matter of second, it was over.

He turns to you, and it’s hard to discern any emotions with his lighted eyes and mask. He asks :

“Are you alright, (Y/N) ?”

“How-How do you know my name ?”

“Well, you’re Bruce Wayne’s girlfriend, right ?”

There was no hesitation in Bruce’s voice as, as soon as he pronounced your name, he knew he messed up...but he trained himself to think quickly. And this “fake” relationship was a perfect excuse, of course. Everyone in Gotham knew about you two, by now.

“Oh, right, ok.”

You seemed a bit disappointed, and Bruce couldn’t quite understand why...

It only hits him later, as he was going to bed, why you looked like that. And it made hi heart beat widely. Because he was pretty sure that it was because you sort of hoped Bruce talked to “Batman about you...Oh...Oh this was getting dangerous.

But of course, Bruce had a reputation to be the one funding Batman’s gadget (a really good cover for the fact he was actually Batman). So they’d know each others...

But right there and then, as he just saved you, you felt so stupid, hoping that Bruce would’ve talked to you to Batman. Why would he ? How the hell would your name even show up in a conversation between Bruce Wayne and Batman (but oh, if you knew you occupied his thoughts many times, and who he really was, maybe you’d feel less bad ? It was, in a way, Bruce talking about you to Batman, right ?).

You smiled weakly and shyly at this impressive being in front of you, and thanked him one more time. He nods, smiling too (oh ?), and bid you farewell.

Ah. But Bruce didn’t notice your eyes go wide, as he took off with his grappling hook, and you caught the side of his face in a certain light...

Fake ?

"You know, he smiles more when you’re around.”

Dick tells you once, you look at him curiously, as he continues :

“And before you say it’s “all pretend”, let me tell you there’s a difference between this smile and the fake one. Look, that’s how he pretend.”

On that note, he looked at you and smiled widely, exaggeratedly, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. And it was so like how Bruce portrayed himself in public, that it made you chuckle.

It also scared you a little.

Not because there was a possibility Bruce did smile more around you, but because as that little boy was being silly, and now imitating his adopted father further and oh so perfectly...You felt a surge of love for him.

And that wasn’t good.

Because the day, which was coming soon now, you’d have to “dump” Bruce Wayne, you wouldn’t be able to see that little one again...why would you ?

It’d be too weird, right ? Someone like you, once “broken up”, would have no reasons or ways to ever interact with billionaire Bruce Wayne or his son ever again.

That little boy was the sweetest child you ever met. He suffered a great loss so early in his life, and there he was, making you laugh and being nice by saying you made his dad genuinely smile.

It hurt, to know that one day, you wouldn’t see him again. That he’d grow up, and you wouldn’t know what he became.

You were sure he was destined to become a great man, and you wished you could see it...No. No this was bad. This was so bad.

“I mean it you know.”

His little voice brings your attention back to him.

“I think you make him happy. With you, it feels he can be himself. He laughs more, really laughs. And it’s often that he tells me “oh this makes me think of (Y/N)” and calls you. He doesn’t need to call you for the fake relationship thing, right ? Yet he does. That means something. I think he likes you.”

You shake your head, smiling at this little boy’s wild imagination. No way. No way was THE Bruce Wayne falling for you in any way. Were you guys becoming real friends ? Sure. But it definitely stopped there. Right ?

Oh but if only you knew Dick had a knack to see this kind of things, and to guess people’s real feelings. If only you knew, that yes, Bruce was starting to fall for you...It would make the next episode way less painful for you.

“Catch me dead before you catch me catching feelings” - You to yourself, a few days before starting a fake relationship with THE Bruce Wayne.

“Fuck you” - You to yourself, almost six months in faking a relationship with Bruce Wayne.

This was...bad.

Soon enough, you and Bruce will break this entire deal off, you will “dump” him, and you’d go on your separate ways. And...

This was bad.

Why ? WHY COULDN’T YOU JUST HANG OUT WITH THIS AMAZING CHARMING MAN AND THAT’S IT ? Why ? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GET OUT THERE AND CATCH....

Catch...

Catch those body shivering “feelings”.

Not just for Bruce though. But for the little buddy too.

You felt yourself fall for Bruce slowly, and as if it was completely out of your control. But you also felt like if Dick wasn't in your life anymore...You wouldn’t feel whole again. Like he was sort of your son, too, by then.

This was so bad. How did you get yourself in this mess ? What was that FIRST rule you gave yourself when all this started ?

Right, “Catch me dead before I catch feelings”. Damn it.

Thanks GOD the “marrying season” was finally coming to an end. Both you and Bruce settled you’d wait a few weeks after it to make your break-up official, so nobody would be tempted to cancel any wedding plans to try and force their daughter onto him.

And it couldn’t happen soon enough.

Being around him now, faking being in love, was torture to you.

Kissing him knowing he felt nothing. Holding his hand in public while you knew in your heart he was just putting a show still. And hanging out with him feeling that you had absolutely no chance of this ever evolving...

It hurt.

It hurt so bad.

And you were slowly hoping you never agreed to being his fake girlfriend. Being a living cliche, the money and the fame were REALLY not worth the heartache.

So not worth it...

The end...?

"Well mister Wayne, it has truly been a pleasure to be your "girlfriend" haha. Seriously, I had a lot of fun, and a little revenge on life. You know, I saw Eric and Monica not long ago. They tried to become my friends again, knowing I was with you. It was great, to ignore them like they ignored them. You’re right, they’re really not worth it. And honestly I still don’t think we’re even after they hurt me like they did but...In the end, they looked so outraged. Win-win, really. Thank you very much."

"Thank YOU, for playing along and doing more than you bargained for. You really saved me a lot of hassle and…I had fun, too."

Your taxi was pulling in front of the Manor, and honked as he parked. Clearly, not a very patient driver.

"Well, see you around, Bruce ! If you're not too busy, you know…I kinda consider you a friend by now ?"

"Me, too."

Bruce lied. A "friend" ? No, it couldn't cover and explain all his feelings for you. A "friend". How ridiculous.

As you walked away, giving him a last smile, Bruce felt a pang in his chest.

A painful and yet happy one. A longing one. One that told him that "friend" wasn't what he wanted to be…Not anymore…

But was there really a future for you and him ? Probably not. His nightly activities would get in the way. You deserve more than the life he could give you. Being his "fake" girlfriend, you only took part in his public matters. Part in a fake world full of nice things, that was far from his actual life.

"Friend", he wished he could be more to you than this.

But he knew.

He knew that for your own good, he had to stay away. And oh, oh how he wished he could be more than just your "friend" or "fake" boyfriend.

Yet he watched as you walked away. Without doing anything.

He watched you leave, and felt the hole in his heart expand a little more. But didn’t try to catch you, or stop you from leaving.

And your taxi was already far, now. On its way to Gotham.

"So you gonna run after her oooor…??"

Dick's little voice takes him out of his reveries.

“Mmm ?”

“(Y/N). Are you gonna run after her, or stand there looking like a sad puppy for the rest of your life ?”

“I do not look like a sad puppy.”

“Yes you do, and you know it. Come on dad, why are you doing this ?”

This was the first time Dick called him dad. Which didn’t go unnoticed to Bruce. It meant...It meant something was definitely happening. He felt it in his heart. Something that was dangerous. Oh so dangerous.

Hope. Like the “old Bruce” had. Hope. Full of it. Before his parents were murdered in front of him, for no reasons. Meaningless.

Hope.

To have a family again. Ah. But...Being with you was impossible. And Dick would be enough. He would. He was already enough...

“How long are ya gonna torture yourself exactly ?”

That boy was too smart for his own good. Bruce said :

“I’m not. I just...I can’t be with her.”

“I cAn’T bE wITh hEr !! ...Why ?!”

“You saw what happened, when it was made official we were together. She almost died.”

“And you saved her. Your point being ?”

“Dick...”

“Don’t -he takes a mock Bruce voice- “Dick” me mister ! You’re afraid to be happy, and I won’t have it. You gave me another chance to have a family. A dad. And I’m not about to let my dad punish himself for feeling good. You told me yourself my parents would like for me to be happy. Well yours would too, you big idiot ! So now, you listen to me.”

Dick, meaning business, jumps on the stairs’ bannister to sort of be on eye level with Bruce, and says, pointing his finger at him :

“You take one of those fancy useless sport car, and you run after her. Capish ?”

There’s a moment of silence. During which Bruce is unsure of what to do. And then...Then he smiles at his son.

His son.

“Capish”, he simply says, and he rushes towards the garage’s entrance, under Dick’s happy look.

Success.

Bruce’s car was leaving the estate, when Alfred joined Dick at the front door.

“You did it, Master Richard.”

“I hope I did !”

“Oh you did. You did. Thank you. Thank you for taking care of my son...”

Dick turned to Alfred, who couldn’t keep a straight face this time. Small tears gathered in the old man’s eyes, and sweet little Dick did not hesitate one second before jumping into his arms and giving him one of his famous “Grayson special” hug.

It’s real.

Back to square one.

You. A bad day. Looking like a mess (this time not because of the rain, but because you cried a lot). Your gap year almost over and still not knowing who you were. With no coffee, but at least, you had a tub of ice cream.

You already missed Bruce. And Dick. And Alfred.

You couldn’t believe those six months of “faking” would end up meaning so much to you, and feel so devastating as they ended.

You wish you had never met Bruce. And that you’d been ridiculed by Eric and Monica, that your life would still be pathetic...Pathetic maybe, but at least, your heart wasn’t completely shattered.

You don’t hear the hurried knocks on your door, at first. Entranced by your own sadness. It’s only when they become loud and insistant you react.

You really hope it’s not a journalist. They sort of tried to talk to you so many times, since you “dumped” Bruce...You knew he made sure that they’d stay away, but some were particularly persistent.

Including that awful woman from the charity, who was asking Dick those horrible questions. “Vicky Vale”, was her name, apparently. What a witch.

Clearly, the knocking wasn’t gonna go away, so you stood up, settled your tub of ice cream on your coffee table, and went to the door, ready to fight if need be.

But there was no need for fights.

At least, not in the literal sense of the term.

“Bruce ?”

He seems out of breath. Incredible, given how in shape he was. He doesn’t really leave you any time to say anything else, as he blurts out :

“I was wrong.”

He blurts out out of nowhere, and you’re even more confused. Before you could ask what was all this about, he adds :

“I was wrong. When I said you were the right person because you were “normal”. You’re everything, BUT “just a regular person”. You’re the most fantastic woman I’ve ever met. You decided to help a total stranger just because. I know I helped you before, but it doesn’t compare to what you did for me. Especially on a matter that seems so silly to me now. You put yourself in a very awkward position for someone you didn’t even know. In front of the public, for a guy like me. You knew I was a “playboy”, and that I could very well use you. Yet you still put up with it. You accepted my son, even as you didn’t have to. Even as, just like me, you are so young. You were nice to Dick, even if all you needed to do was pretend. You’re...You’re...You’re just something else entirely. It feels like you know me, the real me. Like you can read my very soul. Like you’re the only one for me. I’ve known for a long time. I ignored it because I was afraid of what that meant but...but a certain little one made me realize this was time. It’s time to move on. It’s time to allow myself to be happy. And so, here I am.”

Was this...it ? The point of your gap year ? To discover that finding yourself...Meant finding your soulmate ?

It sounded silly. While at the same time, not. Because you felt it. You felt it deep within you. From the moment Bruce handed you that twenty dollars bill, fate was in motion.

You meeting Eric and Monica wasn’t bad luck. It was the opposite. It was the Universe’s push towards your real Destiny.

Towards Bruce.

“You’re not saying anything. Is this bad ? Or does it mean I blew your mind away ? I’m clearly hoping for the latter...”

Over the months, you discovered how huge of a dork Bruce Wayne could be. Even as if there was often a darkness right behind his smiles. Deep within his eyes. You discovered he wasn’t always this cocky arrogant man he portrayed himself to be while in public. How he was actually pretty funny and oh so empathetic. How...How so many things, the list seemed endless in your mind.

And it only added to everything, that he looked so unsure. And so you smile. You just smile at him. And everything you feel is in that smile.

You don’t even realize you’re holding each others now, and that you’re kissing...

It’s not pretend this time.

A real first kiss.

Though maybe all your kisses until now weren’t as fake as you pretended them to be.

In any case, this, right now, is a real kiss alright.

A real one.

Full of all the pent up emotions. Free of all the fear and hurt you both felt as you realized you were in love with the other one, yet you thought things were all “fake”.

Because it wasn't fake. It wasn’t.

“I love you.”

You don’t know who said it first. You, or him. You felt so in sync, that it didn’t matter. What is sure, is that you both said it. Before you closed the door to your apartment, leading him in.

Before you spend the night in each other’s arms.

Bruce not even thinking about going out as Batman..

For the first time in years, he decided to fully embrace being happy.

“You always told me my parents would wish for me to be happy, well yours too !” Dick said. And oh, he was so right.

By the way, I’m Batman. Surprise.

“It’s not like I didn’t know, you know.”

“Huh ?”

Oh. Oh the delight to see that surprised expression on Bruce’s face. It was quite a rare one, really. And as he finally gathered the courage to tell you who he really was, risking losing you in the process but wanting to show you his full self...

It was particularly delightful.

“Busted you on that night you saved me. As if I wasn’t going to recognized that jawline.”

“Wait, really ? I really thought you bought my lies !”

“Well now, you know not to underestimate me.”

“I...Do.”

A natural smile reaches his face, and he approaches you, pulling you to him, and laying a soft kiss on your lips. Feeling fully accepted and loved, like never before. And he could see you-

“Oh NO EWWWWWW !!!”

You pull away from Bruce’s kiss (noticing his slow grumble, displeased to lose your warmth), and look at little Dickie (your son too, now !), staring at you two, looking disgusted.

“Get a ROOOOM !!”

This makes you laugh. A lot. And oh. Oh how would you ever guess, in that moment, that one day, this “get a room !!” said in such a disgusted tone would be the trademark of your children (SIX OF THEM) whenever they’d see you and Bruce display any sort of affection to one another ?

You couldn’t guess, of course. But even in that moment, as you softly laughed, in Bruce’s arms, while looking at your son now making exaggerated noises and acting silly, you knew this...

This was what you’ve been looking for during this gap year.

This was who you were.

Right there.

At the heart of a loving family, even if right now, it was just the three of you (four, let’s not forget Alfred !).

The end.

_________________________________________________

And here we are. I hope you liked it ? I feel particularly nervous about this one haha. Don’t hesitate to leave a little comment and reblog :), It’s always greatly appreciated, and encouraging :D. Thanks in advance, and see you soon with a new story !

#Bruce Wayne x reader #Batman x Reader #Batmom #Batfam x Reader #Batfam #Batfamily x Reader #Bruce Wayne imagine #Bruce Wayne #Batman #DC reader insert #Richard Grayson x Reader #Richard Grayson imagine #Batman imagine #Batman reader insert #Robin x reader #AU compare to main Batmom #Richard Grayson #fem!reader

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reinerispretty · 4 years ago

Text

rotations. bonus! azula returns

HI THIS ONE HAS BEEN IN MY HEAD FOR A WHILE PLS ENJOY

(Y/N) was happy in her life. Being married to Zuko was better than she could have ever imagined. His stoic expression as Fire Lord faded away as soon as they were in private. She saw her friends as often as their schedules would allow, and enjoyed sitting at Zuko’s side in the throne room. But sometimes, she felt trapped within the palace walls. When she was young, she traveled the world. Now, the only time she traveled was for diplomatic affairs. She loved her life, but sometimes she longed for a new adventure. These were leftover feelings from her teenage life, it was obvious. She was an adult now, with adult responsibilities.

“Mommy?” A tiny voice called out.

Responsibilities like the baby girl at the edge of her bed. It was early in the morning, around the time that she would normally wake up. (Y/N) slid out from underneath Zuko’s arms to look at her daughter. The three year old clutched a stuffed platybus bear that Iroh had given her for her last birthday. (Y/N) smiled at her little girl. “Hi, little blossom,” She whispered as she picked up Izumi and placed her in the bed between her and Zuko. She made herself comfortable in the plush sheets as she stared up at her mother. “How did you sleep?”

“Good,” Izumi played with the bill of her platybus bear. “Daddy?”

Zuko turned over and wrapped his arm around his child. She giggled as he peppered her face with kisses. “Good morning, Princess,” He said with a smile. His voice was husky from sleep, his eyes barely able to open in the morning light. (Y/N) leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek.

“What’s your plan today?” Zuko asked as Izumi cuddled himself into his arms. (Y/N) shrugged.

“I was thinking about maybe going on a picnic?” She looked at Zuko hopefully, but his sad expression made her pout.

“I’ve got back to back meetings today. And tomorrow.”

“And the day after that and for the rest of time,” (Y/N) said with a playful roll of her eyes. “I’d really like to get out of the palace for the day. Izumi, would you like to go on a picnic with Mommy?”

“Icknick!” The little girl cheered, a bright smile on her features.

“Where will you go?” Zuko asked.

“I think I’ll take her to the hot springs behind the palace. It’s really beautiful this time of year.”

Zuko exhaled. He grabbed (Y/N’s) hands and began playing with her fingers. “I wish I could go with you. Can I send some guards with you?” (Y/N) scoffed.

“I’m pretty sure I can protect myself.”

“Mommy firebend,” Izumi said to her father matter-of-factly. Zuko chuckled.

“Mommy does it best,” Zuko agreed. (Y/N) smiled and took her daughter into her arms, sliding out of bed.

“We’ll be back before dinner time,” She assured her husband as she kissed him. She left the room to get Izumi dressed. “Don’t go starting any wars,” She called to her husband from the hallway.

“Very funny!”

---

The hot springs were in a wooded area behind the palace, accessed only by a cobblestone path leading from the turtle duck pond. (Y/N) and Izumi walked together, both with a hand on the handle of the picnic basket. Izumi’s platybus bear toy dragged behind her on the ground.

The hot spring steamed and bubbled in a stone pond. (Y/N) had grown up visiting it occasionally. She, Zuko, and Azula would take turns seeing who could last longest in the boiling water. Firebenders could withstand some of the highest heats, but Azula always won out in the end.

(Y/N) shook her head to make the thought go away. It was hard, sometimes, to be in the palace. Memories popped back up without warning. And despite everything that had happened, sometimes she found herself missing her. She shoved it down as far as she could, but it still crawled up inside of her at the moments she least expected it. Like today.

So she focused her attention on Izumi. She unfurled the picnic blanket and set the food the servants had prepared for them. Izumi ate sandwiches in the shapes of stars and moons. It was something the servants liked to do for her. She was the sweetest child the palace had seen in years.

(Y/N) ate her sandwich and moved onto dessert: fruit tarts. She gave Izumi a tiny piece. “Did you know that these are how Daddy and I met?”

Izumi took the piece between two fingers curiously. “Fuit dart,” She whispered to herself. (Y/N) smiled.

“Yeah, fuit dart.” She gave her daughter a kiss on the forehead.

Once they had finished eating, (Y/N) let Izumi run around while she basked in the sunlight. Like most firebenders, it revitalized her. It made her feel new again. She closed her eyes and tilted her face up to feel its warmth.

“Swim!” Her eyes opened again to see Izumi standing at the edge of the hot spring. (Y/N) shook her head.

“No, Izumi, we aren’t swimming today.”

“Swim!” Izumi said again, stamping her foot on the ground.

“I said no, Izumi.” The little girl began to cry. (Y/N) stood immediately and took her daughter into her arms, shushing her to calm her. She bounced around on her feet to soothe her.

“Poor girl. She’s a princess, she should do what she wants.”

(Y/N) felt her blood run cold. She clutched Izumi tightly and it was as if the little girl sensed her mother’s fear, because her cries fell into small shakes of her body as she recovered. (Y/N) turned around and found the last person she wanted to see at that moment.

“Azula.” She set her jaw. She felt anger swell inside of her. Azula stared at her smugly. They hadn’t seen each other since she and Zuko had left ot find their mother. Azula had escaped from him and spent years on the run. (Y/N) had heard rumors of Azula gathering subjects for her cause, but what that cause was, she had no idea.

“I see you’re not without any guards. Very irresponsible of Zuzu, don’t you think?”

“I can handle myself. Or did you forget about our Agni Kai?”

She watched Azula’s eye twitch, ever so slightly. “A stroke of luck on your part. I’d be happy to go again. Or perhaps little Izumi would like to try her hand at firebending?”

(Y/N) held her daughter closer to her. “I’m only teasing. I know she can’t firebend.”

“What are you doing here, Azula?”

“It’s been too long since we’ve seen each other, wouldn’t you agree?”

(Y/N) had to admit that she was scared. She was here, alone, with her daughter and Azula. Even if she fought Azula, Izumi was too small to know that she should stay out of the way of the flames. (Y/N) thought she had been angry when Azula hurt Zuko, but if she hurt Izumi...

Azula sighed and rolled her eyes. “I’m here because I wanted to see her. It hurts, not being invited to the wedding, but it hurt more not being told I had a niece.”

(Y/N) furrowed her brows. “You wanted to see her?”

“Yes, (Y/N), is that so hard to believe?”

“It is, Azula, considering our history.” Azula scoffed, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

“I’ve never lied to you.”

“You’re lying right now!”

Azula sighed, reaching into her pocket. She pulled out the crown worn by the crown princess of the Fire Nation. She extended her arm out to (Y/N) in offering. “I brought this for her.”

Cautiously, (Y/N) crept forward to take the crown from Azula’s hand. She put it in the pocket of her robes. She wasn’t sure if Azula was above lacing things with poison.

“Motherhood has made you overly cautious.”

“No, I think it was my childhood friends trying to kill me.”

“You forgave Zuko. Why can’t you forgive me?”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn’t. She found herself at a loss for words. How could she explain to Azula that the things she had done were unforgivable.

“You tried to kill me, Azula. You tried to kill the people I love.”

“And why wasn’t I one of those people, hm?” Azula snapped. “Every single day you chose someone else over me. First it was Zuko. Then it was the Avatar and his friends.”

“I never chose anyone over you, Azula. You chose the Fire Nation.”

“And you betrayed me!” Azula’s eyes danced with anger. (Y/N) swallowed the lump in her throat. Izumi held on tightly to her mother’s robes.

“I didn’t betray you, Azula. I never wanted to leave you. Your father forced my family to leave. And then I saw the horrible things our nation was doing to people. Everything we had ever believed was a lie.”

Azula’s eyes brimmed with tears. She wasn’t sure how to feel. She had seen (Y/N) and Izumi alone and her first instinct was to talk to them. She hadn’t planned this far ahead.

“I never wanted to leave you,” (Y/N) said again. “But you did some horrible things.”

“You think I’m a monster, just like everyone else.” (Y/N) shook her head.

“I don’t think you’re a monster. I think you were confused and had no one to be there for you. You are one of the people I love, Azula. You’re just lost.”

“Don’t throw that word around like that?” (Y/N) stared at her in confusion. “Love. You don’t love me, (Y/N), I love you.”

“Azula--”

“I love you! I’ve loved you since we were children and you never saw it, you never realized. You were too focused on Zuko to even give me the time of day.”

(Y/N) looked at the ground. “I never knew.” She said quietly.

“I know. So believe me when I say that the only reason I am here is for Izumi. I just wanted to see her.”

(Y/N) looked back up to see Azula’s face. She was an excellent liar, but (Y/N’s) heart told her that she was telling the truth. About everything. So she took a step forward until they were arm’s length away.

“Izumi,” She said to her daughter. “This is Aunt Azula. Can you say Azula?”

Izumi stared shyly at her aunt. “Zula,” She said quietly. (Y/N) watched as Azula broke into a genuine smile, her eyes watering.

“Hello, little princess.” Hesitantly, she reached out to touch Izumi. Her small palm wrapped against Azula’s finger.

“Zula,” Izumi said again, quite seriously.

(Y/N) looked at the sky to see the sun was beginning to set. She turned back to Azula. “Zuko will be expecting us soon.”

“Don’t tell him,” Azula stared into (Y/N’s) eyes.

“I won’t. I promise.”

---

(Y/N) and Izumi returned to the palace a little before dinner. They found Zuko in the throne room, his presence full of advisors. He dismissed them as soon as he saw his wife and daughter.

Izumi giggled as she ran up to her father. She jumped into his arms and he lifted her high above her head. “How was your picnic?”

“Very good,” (Y/N) said, the smile on her lips tight. Zuko stared at her for a moment, but decided to let it go. Perhaps Izumi had been difficult today.

“Zula!” Izumi said happily. (Y/N’s) stomach dropped. “Zula! Zula!”

“What’s she saying?”

#atla #the last airbender #zuko x reader #azula x reader #writing #fanfiction #zuko #azula

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spxllcxstxr · 4 years ago

Text

The Seven Potters Plan Part 2 • R.L

(Gif not mine)

Request: Nope, just wanted to torture myself with this idea :)

Summary: Read Part 1 here!

Warnings: canon character death, canon Deathly Hallows, cursing, death, grieving, mention of injury and blood, death eaters, Voldemort, just a lot of hurt/angst

Word Count: 1.4k

A.N: Implied that you’re Remus’ age, the two of you are married, why do I think of these things? I’m like 99% sure I made this gender neutral? But if I didn’t like let me know. I know this is angsty, but I hope you all enjoy. Love you all ❤️

EDIT: Like I said in the last part (ugh I hate saying that) this fic had to be broken up into two parts. The starts exactly where it leaves off in the last part.

****

When your feet finally touch the ground, you notice that Hermione looks like herself again.

“Did you see the one that went down?” Hermione pants. “You think it’s—“

“Dead?” Kingsley asks, eyeing you carefully. “What’d you hit it with?”

“I don’t know...” You answer truthfully. “It just...dropped.”

“Harry!” Hermione cries, her body being brought into a hug.

Instinctively you bring your wand up, pointing at the others.

It’s Remus, and you almost falter.

“First thing you said to me on our first date?” You demand, wand trained on his chest.

“Merlin, what are you wearing?” He replies calmly. “But in my defense you looked like you just rolled out of bed.”

“It’s him.” You sigh out in relief, putting your wand back into your pocket. “And to be fair, you asked me out on our first date at twelve in the morning. I did just roll out of bed.”

Remus steps closer to you, arms wrapping around you. Your face buries deep into the crook of his neck, the smell of sweat and a subtle hint of chocolate overwhelming your senses. You almost sob in relief.

“Somebody betrayed us!” Kingsley shouts. “They knew, they knew it was tonight!”

“So it seems.” Remus replies, you pull away from him, but continue to cling onto his hand like before. “But apparently they did not realize there would be seven Harrys.”

“A small comfort!” Kingsley snaps. “Who else is back?”

“Only Harry, Hagrid, George, and me.”

“Not Mad-Eye?” You question nervously. Dread starts to coil down your spine.

Remus shakes his head. “What happened to you?”

The night continues to drag on, everyone recounting their own tales of what happened. The absence of your father continues to wear on you so you pace, occasionally biting at your grimy nails.

But your father was the best Auror the Wizarding world has ever seen. He’s taken out crowds of Death Eaters with his eyes closed, you’ve seen it. One simple ride across the country wasn’t a big deal. You try your best to ignore the cold feeling deep within.

“I’m going to have to get back to Downing Street, I should have been there an hour ago.” Kingsley rises from his seat. “Let me know when they’re back.”

He makes his way towards you, a hand resting on your shoulder. “You did good today, kid.” He smiles.

“Don’t call me kid.” You mutter weakly, trying and failing to reciprocate his smile.

“Hey,” He lightly reassures. “it’s Alastor. He’s fine.”

After a silent nod he walks off into the darkness, Disapparating to his destination.

You continue to pace, feet dragging through the grass as Arthur, Molly, and Ginny come rushing out the house.

“Thank you,” Molly hugs Ron close to her. “for our sons.”

“Don’t be silly, Molly.” Tonks replies.

“How’s George?” Remus asks.

“What’s wrong with him?” Ron pipes up, pulling away from his mother.

“He’s lost—“

A thestral swoops down close to the ground, wings beating rapidly as it lands. Bill and Fleur drop down, looking unscathed.

“Bill! Thank Merlin, thank Merlin—“

Molly cries and goes in for a hug but Bill’s grim face makes her falter.

“Mad-Eye’s dead.”

And everything stops. You go rigid, the chill of your body becoming unbearable and your throat tightens.

Your fears had come true, losing another parent to this stupid war. Your mother had been killed by the Dark Lord himself, her lifeless eyes haunting you ever since.

And now they were both gone.

Tears prick the backs of your eyes, you stare at the redhead in disbelief.

“No.” You mutter, eyes wide and fearful. “No!”

Your knees feel weak and you feel yourself start to collapse. Arms circle underneath your armpits, desperate to keep you up.

“(Y/n), let’s—“

“You’re lying!” You shout, jabbing an accusatory finger at Bill. He winces. “Stop lying to me, where’s my father?” You struggle within your husband’s tight grasp.

“Fuck, Remus, let me go!” You try your best to rip yourself away from in, limbs thrashing in an attempt to hit him away. “I need to find him!”

Remus hushes you, forehead resting on the top of your head.

“He’s my dad, I can’t just—“ Your struggle relents, fists curling around the sleeves of Remus’ coat. “I can’t just leave him.”

“I’m sorry.” Remus whispers above you, his own voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”

“How?” You ask, looking up at Bill, roughly swallowing back tears.

“(Y/n)—“

“How!” You spit, anger once again coursing through your veins.

“We saw it.” Bill croaks, his eyes wet with tears. “It happened just after we broke out of the circle. Mad-Eye and Dung were close by us, they were heading North too. Voldemort—he can fly—went straight for them. Dung panicked, I heard him cry out, Mad-Eye tried to stop him, but he Disapparated. Voldemort’s curse hit Mad-Eye full in the face, he fell backward off his broom and—there was nothing we could do, nothing, we had half a dozen of them on our own tail—“ His voice breaks terribly.

“But you didn’t see him die!” You cry. “He just fell, he might be alive—!”

But Bill just shakes his head.

“He’s gone, (Y/n). Fleur and I saw it, how Dung left and the curse hit him—“

“I’ll kill him.” You mutter, thrashing again in Remus’ arms. “You hear that, Mundungus? I’ll kill you with my bare hands!” You scream up at the night sky. “I’ll fucking kill you, you coward!”

Trying your best to rip away from your husband, you resort to stomping on his feet and clawing at his hands.

It doesn’t work, sadly, Remus’ hold on you never wavers.

“C’mon, let’s go inside, love.” He pleads softly.

In a snap, the fight flees from your body and tears start to fall as you practically go limp in his arms. All you can manage is a weak nod.

You feel the burning stares and hear the faint cries of your friends, but you don’t dare lift your head up from its position buried in Remus’ shirt. He slowly leads you inside, carefully, in case your knees really do give out.

The Burrow is quiet. Clocks tick, George lets out faint whimpers from his sprawled out position on the sofa, and the floorboards creak under your weight, but other than that, it’s quiet.

There’s a dimly lit sitting room on the other side of the bottom floor, and Remus carefully drops the two of you onto the fraying cushions.

You curl up into him, fists tightly clenching his lapels, face buried into his chest. Finally, you open the floodgates, tears staining his shirt in rapid succession, broken wails ripping from your throat.

Fists lightly pound against his chest in frustration.

Remus keeps a hand on the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles over your jacket.

“It’s not fair!” You cry. “It’s not fair! He deserved to live!”

You don’t know how long you sob into Remus, but Bill eventually edges his way into the room.

“His body’s gone.” He states softly, afraid of your reaction.

You head snaps up to him. “Gone? What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Death Eaters, probably.” Bill sighs, stuffing his hands into pockets. “Got to him before we could—“

“Well get him back!” You shout, jumping up from the sofa. Remus follows, holding you back in case you decide to make a break for Bill.

“Who knows where his body may be now, (Y/n)—“

“Well it should be in Plockton with my mum overlooking the Loch!” You seethe. “Find him, alright? You couldn’t save him then, so save him now!”

Bill’s blue eyes flash with hurt, and he takes a step back.

“Right then.” Bill mutters, stepping out into the hallway. “I’ll leave you be, then. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not Bill’s fault, love.” Remus pulls you to his chest, and though you struggle at first, you eventually succumb to the hold. “It’s more than alright to grieve, but this isn’t Bill’s fault. You want someone to blame, blame Voldemort, yeah?”

“I’m sorry.” You mutter. “I’m sorry, I just want him back. It hurts so much, Rem.”

“I wish I could help you, love.” He murmurs into your hairline. “Wish I could just take the pain away.”

“Just holding me helps.” You sniffle.

You listen to his heartbeat and he squeezes you a little tighter.

“I can do that, love. I can do that.”

•

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20 @amourtentiaa @cherie-draco @mullthingsoverinthehotwater

#Remus Lupin #remus lupin x reader #Remus Lupin angst #Remus Lupin imagine #Remus Lupin fanfiction #the marauders x reader

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sincerelybluevase · 3 years ago

Text

Careful, Madam Chapter Six

A/N Thank you all for being so patient! I didn’t think I’d ever finish this, but the final chapter has been written. You’ll have to wait a little bit for that, since the wonderful @thegirlisuedtobe is making a beautiful teaser for it, which I obviously want to post first. But rest assured; this fic is finished after chapter seven! The previous chapters can be read here.

All night I lay thinking as to what to do. Systematically, I went through every option I could think of until I arrived at the inevitable conclusion.

The best I could hope for was for Maxim to be convicted of murder. I didn’t see that happen any time soon, though; everyone thought he and Rebecca had had the perfect marriage, so why should he have wanted to kill her? His identification of the wrong woman could easily be explained away as an honest mistake made when he was sick with grief and horror. That could not explain why Rebecca lay dead in her cabin, but then the authorities could hardly expect Maxim to know everything, now could they?

I could accuse Maxim of killing Rebecca and testify against him instead, but I rejected that idea just as I had done earlier that day when it first occurred to me. I did not think I would be believed, and even if I was, I didn’t think people would forgive me for betraying my husband. After all, he had lifted me up out of poverty and obscurity when he made me his wife. Many already believed I was after his money; if I repaid what they thought of as his kindness by seeing to it that he got hanged, they would think me a conniving little schemer who had murdered her husband to inherit his money. It would be all over the newspapers, and so everyone would know. Reporters would harass me, everyone else would snub me. I thought I might be able to bear that, but what life would that be for my child? For there was my little stranger to think of now.

Perhaps it would be best for the baby if I did nothing. There’s a lot to say for being born in wealth and privilege, and few children would be more privileged than the ones born with the de Winter name. Manderley was a glorious place to grow up besides. In my mind’s eye I could see my child and I on the beach dragging driftwood from the surf, laughing as Jasper chased after seagulls. Afterwards we’d have tea under the chestnut tree, and I’d cut the crusts off a sandwich, because that was how they’d like their bread. Maxim would scold our child if he saw, because he had, no time for such puerile nonsense, but it would be all right, I would shield them from his moods, his madness. Yes, I could continue to be the second Mrs de Winter, shy and silent, a quiet little thing at my husband’s side. Rebecca had played at being a devoted wife really rather successfully, hadn’t she? And she had never even loved him. I had. Surely I could pretend I still did? For my child, I could go back to being the girl I had been just a few days ago… But no, I thought as I turned on my side, watching the form of my sleeping husband in his bed, I can never be that woman again. Not after finding out Maxim had murdered Rebecca. He had killed once; what was there to prevent him from killing me, too, if I shamed him?

And I had shamed him already, hadn’t I? He simply didn’t know it yet. What I had done with Mrs Danvers would ruin him and Manderley, should it ever come out. He’d kill me for that ten times over, and Mrs Danvers, too.

Mrs Danvers. Queer, loyal Mrs Danvers. What was she doing now? What I wouldn’t give to be with her, to try and alleviate her suffering! For she must suffer greatly now that she knew her beloved Rebecca’s death was murder, and she must seethe with rage and hatred for Maxim. That was perhaps my biggest fear: that she hungered for revenge and would harm herself to get it.

To keep her, my little stranger, and myself safe, there was only one thing to do: run away with Mrs Danvers. But how to accomplish it? I had no money, and there was no ready cash at Manderley; we had accounts at every store and company so that there was no need to pay with bills and coin. Maxim had given me no jewellery during our marriage, so that couldn’t be sold either. Still, I supposed I could find a way. The most important thing was to find Mrs Danvers before she could do anything harmful, and convince her to come away with me.

If she didn’t want to run away with me, I feared my heart would break.

Despite my sickening worries, I must have slept then, for the next time I opened my eyes, daylight had found its way into the room. It pooled onto the floorboards, heavy and hot. The bed beside me was empty. I fumbled for my watch, saw that the inquest was about to start. Maxim had left me behind, as he said he would. Two days ago, this would have broken my heart, but that morning, I found it a mercy.

I went to the bathroom, where I vomited. Perhaps it was the baby making me sick; perhaps just the great stress of the situation I had found myself in. I brushed my teeth, dressed quickly, then went in search of Mrs Danvers. I kept wiping my hands on my dress. What if she had gone to the inquest? I should have stayed awake. But no, I found her where I expected her to be: in Rebecca’s room.

“Oh, Mrs Danvers,” I said. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, clutching Rebecca’s crumpled nightgown. Her eyes had turned to slits, so swollen were they from crying. She smelled of sorrow, that strange salty scent that clings to the hands and face. My heavy heart had lifted at the sight of her; now, it began to ache. “Oh, Mrs Danvers,” I repeated, “how your eyes must hurt!” Like two embers burning in her sockets, I imagined. And so, before doing anything else, I went into the bathroom and turned on the tap. I wetted my handkerchief under the cold water, then took it to her and dabbed at her eyes. She made to fend me off, stiffened, then succumbed.

“I’m sorry, Mrs Danvers. I didn’t mean to leave you after what I said. I suppose you’ve a lot of questions. I wanted to come see you sooner so we might talk about it, truly I did, but I could not find you, and then Mr de Winter wouldn’t let me out of his sight.” A drop of water course down the inside of my wrist, making me shiver.

She stilled my hand. “I always suspected he killed her,” she croaked. “She wouldn’t drown, not even in that squall, not my mistress, not she. For a year, I’ve suspected. I just couldn’t prove it. Tell me, Madam: how did he kill her?”

My throat was tight and dry. I swallowed painfully. “He shot her.”

She bared her teeth, her lips curling back like that of a corpse. “I thought he would. He’s always been a coward. He wouldn’t dare kill her with his bare hands. She would have fend him off, had he tried. Did she suffer?”

“No. She died instantly.”

“Will her bones show that he murdered her?”

I shook my head. “He said the bullet went straight through.”

“So he shall be acquitted then, won’t he? Colonel Julyan, the doctor performing the autopsy, they’re all his friends. They’ll want to believe in his innocence, and even if they didn’t, they’ll want to avoid a scandal. There’ll be no justice for my mistress. Not unless we testify.”

“They wouldn’t believe us. They think me a slutty interloper and you queer and hateful.”

Her shoulders tensed, but only for a moment; then, she slumped. She took the handkerchief from me and pressed it to her eyes so forcefully drops fell down like tears. “Thank you, Madam, for telling me.”

I sat down next to her, dimpling the mattress. The stale scent of azaleas mixed with dust rose up to meet me. “I have thought our situation over. I’ve turned every option round and round in my mind, and there’s only one thing for us to do, Mrs Danvers. We must run far, far away from here.”

She lowered the handkerchief and stared at me with those sore, burning eyes. “Run away?”

I nodded. “We can’t testify, and we can’t remain here. Would you be able to work for him as nothing had happened? I can’t go on being his wife, at any rate, not now that I know he’s a murderer. What’s there to stop him from murdering again? And there’s my little stranger to think about now, too…” I pressed a hand against my belly. How long until it would swell?

“No,” she said in a low voice, “No, I can’t work for him anymore. You are right. But he wouldn’t let you go, Madam, especially now that you’re carrying his heir. And how would we live?”

We, I thought, and through the sickness and despair, my heart fluttered, she said ‘we’. We shall do this together, she and I. I placed my hand on hers. “Working girls like us can always find something, and I’ve saved a little money when I was Mrs van Hopper’s companion. Surely you’ve saved, too?”

She nodded. “Yes. Yes, of course. I’ve always had little use for money. But I meant, do you want us to live together, Madam?”

“Yes, yes of course! I can’t imagine living without you anymore, Mrs Danvers. I think that, foolish as it may seem, I’ve come to love you deeply these past few days. It’s as if I’ve looked inside of you and seen you, really seen you, not the cold, efficient housekeeper, but the warm, feeling woman underneath.” Blood rushed to my cheeks, and I felt shy again, tortured by my anxieties. Perhaps I had been too eager, too forward. “Besides, it would be practical. To the outside world, I can be a widow and you my aunt. No one would question it.”

She sat still for a moment, then clasped my hands and brought them to her mouth, kissing them with dry lips. “No one has ever wanted to live with me like that. I’ve always been needed as a nanny, or a housekeeper. Never as a person. Thank you, Madam,” she murmured.

I rested my head against her shoulder. “When should we leave, do you reckon?” Every fibre of my being wished to never see Maxim again, but if we left too hastily, we might make mistakes that could lead Maxim to us. Better to suffer his presence for a little while longer if that meant I could be rid of him forever.

“Not quiet yet, Madam. In a month, perhaps. It gives you time to lull Mr de Winter into a false sense of security, and by then you won’t be so sick with child anymore. Besides, it will give me the time I need to prepare our journey.”

“Will it be hard for you, to leave Manderley? It has been your home for years.”

She stroked a line on the back of my hand. “It was my home because of my mistress. I’ve a new mistress now. Where she leads, I shall follow, and let her be my home.”

Tears pricked in my eyes. “And you shall be mine. My God, I can hardly wait. It shall be heaven, to be with you, to never have to see Mr de Winter again.”

“Well, well, well,” a voice said.

I got up and whipped around. My bowels turned to water and my knees were so weak I almost had to sit down again.

Maxim stood on the threshold, his face that strange waxen mask I had observed in him often when he was tired or angry. “Maxim,” I said stupidly. “I thought… the inquest…”

“That didn’t take more than an hour. A verdict of accidental death. I rushed straight home to tell you the good news, only I couldn’t find you. You can imagine my surprise when Frith told me he had seen you gone into Rebecca’s rooms. I almost didn’t follow you here, but then I thought, what power does that perverted slut hold over me now that I’ve killed her and gotten away with it? Only I didn’t expect to find that my devoted little wife has turned out to be a perverted little slut as well, scheming with a housekeeper twice her age to elope.”

“I didn’t… we weren’t…”

“You little bitch,” he hissed. He dashed through the room and struck me so quickly I barely saw his fist move. His knuckles connected with my cheekbone. The pain took a few seconds to arrive, hot and sharp.

Oh, I thought stupidly. I made to press a hand to my cheek, but he grabbed my wrists and pulled me to him. “You little bitch!” he roared, spittle flying from his mouth. “How dare you leave me?!”

He shook me so hard my teeth rattled. This, I thought with icy certainty, this is how I shall die: at the hands of my husband. Funny; he hadn’t dared kill Rebecca with his own hands, but then I had never quite measured up to his first wife, now had I?

“Stop!” I pleaded. “Maxim, please stop! You’re scaring me!”

He slapped my face with an open palm, bringing tears to my eyes. He raised his hand to strike again when Mrs Danvers said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, sir.”

A metallic click sounded.

Maxim turned to look at her, his hand frozen in mid-air.

Mrs Danvers was pointing a gun at him.

Tagging: @solattea, @mlletina, @msmaryadmitrievna, @alice1nwond3rland, @need-not, @halewynslady

#my fanfic #danvich #rebecca #rebecca das musical #rebecca fanfic

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allyvampirelass29 · 4 years ago

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The Hourglass and The Oracle

A NOS4A2 Review By: Allyssa J. Watkins

A spiraling staircase A bold fuchsia beauty Lights flicker in your eyes As our energies collide And, Darling, you're starting to get to me......

I'm not your Darling, John Buy a girl a drink first Before you thirst For what you can't get your hands on Throwing my head back with a laugh You're going to fall And it's going to be too fast Who said I was yours to catch? Ask me again And I'll ask you to dance

May I have a moment of your time? I don't need to be a Strong Creative, Dear To tease your mind A turn of the hourglass A trick of the sublime You're like sand through my hands Sifting too fast to touch And it's not enough...... You're the exceptional exception When I say we're hard to love.

Sparks fly Drawing you in I'll make you believe in magic again Fate's siren song calls to the Hourglass Man I guess it's my turn To show you my hand But be forewarned, My Gentleman Friend There's no telling what happens When you open the door to the static You might not want the answer Once you have it Shaking the bag Rolling the Dice A cigarette burn is a more than fair price To watch time drain from the Hourglass' eyes Clutching the hurt As your knife catches my eye Shattering your glass Scattering your sand Close your eyes, You Hopeless Flirt This is me, skipping dessert I gotta say you put up one hell of a fight Say goodnight, John You've run out of time

CHECK. FREAKING. MATE!!!!! Ladies and Gentlemen, the MATCH has been called, and the Hourglass didn't stand a chance against the Woman of the Hour, Our Dauntless Oracle, and very own, Miss Margaret Leigh!!! My GOD, Maggie seized her time to shine in a dazzling foray of sultry seduction, and deadly spectacle, and while it may have been The Hourglass' last bow, it was the iridescent ORACLE who stole the show, and she alone deserves our standing ovation!!! I LOVED this episode, beginning to end, the intrigue, the sleek deception, the intense human drama, all beautifully intertwined in this beguiling game within a game, a chess match of like-minded Creative prowess!!! Brava, Miss Leigh, and bravissimo, NOS4A2, for spoiling us yet again!!! "The Hourglass," is a violin overture of vulnerable human moments, and intellectual powerplays, reaching the fever pitch of the most ghastly, scream-bloody-murder cliff hangar of the entire series.

Where last week Charlie was the blunt force trauma, the pounding hammer, smashing everyone and everything in his path to Wayne, Maggie is the stealth strike, the seductively wielded scalpel, removing Charlie's secret weapon with lethal precision, after he proves to be the more immediate threat to her best friend, now that Charlie's absconded with her son. She's a force to be reckoned with, a fuchsia femme fatale, as lovely as she is deadly, the perfect rosé of coy and coquettish as she flirts with time and death itself. It was her finest hour, hands down, and I LOVED that NOS4A2 gave her the spotlight, and that she literally KILLED, leaving us begging for more.

Stop me if you've heard this one before. Two Strong Creatives walk into a bar........ Like an ingenue reminiscent of Old Hollywood, with every lilac strand of her rebellious florescence pinned in place, Maggie descends the long, spiral staircase, sending the lights to flicker, and drawing the eye of an instantly intrigued, Mr. Hourglass. I must say, The Hourglass Man's smooth, and tenacious pursuit of our Maggie, was a FANTASTIC blindsight, a surprise I never saw coming!!! Where I expected a smouldering duel to the death as soon as their eyes met, knives flying, I found myself drawn instead, irresistibly into the tantalizing tango between the two of them. Their witty repartee was both sparkling, and sharp-edged, as John advanced, and Maggie countered, playing hard to get, while secretly drawing him in. It's thrilling to watch, marveling at these seemingly unlikely lovers, and yet, with each move and countermove, I could see how much they thought alike, both crafty intellectuals, who knew how to play the game, and how to win.

"We're hard to love. People fall for us because of our abilities, but they always come to fear the very thing that drew them in. They tell us to tone it down, betray our gifts, like declawing a cat. It's cruel."

This is my favourite line in the entire episode, it struck me straight to the heart, tears in my eyes, overwhelmed by its tragic beauty and excruciating truth. It's also the one time that Maggie's smoky-eyed seductive veil slips, and she lets herself feel something very real. In that moment, as fleeting as it is, there are no sides, no waiting plots, or poised vendettas. There are two Strong Creatives, two kindred supernatural beings with very human feelings. Victims of their own gifts, with universal wants, and desires. Powers greater than their wildest dreams, but at what cost? In this moment, Maggie cares about John, connects with him, because she feels these words burn emblazoned, even hotter than the cigarette he's about to press into her arm.

Two Strong Creatives walk into a bar....... and only one comes out alive. These two take, "Get a room," to a whole new level!!! "I'm not going to hurt you, unless you want me to........." John says smoothly, before pressing a lit cigarette into Maggie's arm, telling her to harness the pain, let it consume her, until it's all she knows, and then whispers his question like a sweet nothing in her ear, nuzzling her close. John, with all of his scheming predilections and parlor tricks has found a way to cheat the Strong Creative check when it comes due. In event of seizures, or memory loss, you can hurt yourself...... or hurt someone else. I had always secretly suspected this proviso, I even wrote it into my own NOS4A2 Series, that my character's compassion gets punished by unknowingly hurting someone else, every time she uses her gift, but seeing John's shocking demonstration, breathing in with explicit pleasure as he burns her, watching Maggie's big brown eyes spark, both excited, and relieved that she can hurt herself and still use her powers, was an absolute ordeal. I have a feeling Maggie just discovered a dangerous new addiction........

Speaking of ordeals........ John shatters a glass table, ready to kill the messenger, when he doesn't get the answer that he wants, the fates formally denying his request for immortality. And it is here, in the midst of his ruffled, heartbroken, rage, that the events deviated dramatically from my own predictions. I thought Charlie had promised him immortality in exchange for killing Vic McQueen, and that Maggie had unwittingly unmasked this betrayal, proving Charlie had lied, offering the Creative Holy Grail that he intended to keep for himself. Immortality, apparently a non-transferrable work benefit. With our slighted Hourglass primed for revenge, and his particular fascination for Maggie, I thought for sure she'd be able to turn him against Charlie, brandish the Hourglass against his new business partner, rallying him to Vic's cause, and more or less, have him join Team McQueen to take Manx down once and for all.

I was wrong...... So, so wrong. I don't think any of us saw what was coming....... "It's rare I get such a hands on opportunity," John rasps, once he finds his stolen knife in Maggie's bag, teasing seduction climaxing into a crime of passion, as the two of them scrapple and scrape for the hourglass. "Sweetheart, give up. You're not getting out of here alive." Maggie gets choked, hurled over the shattered glass table, but you can't keep a good girl down, and The Hourglass is no Charlie Manx. "I tried to warn you, John, my tiles are never wrong." Maggie thrusts a shard of glass up into the Hourglass Man's heart, and with an anguished, hopeless cry he watches her stomp his knife into the ground, coming down on it hard, leaving nothing but shattered glass, and scattered sand. WOW........ I am speechless. I have to admit, I did not expect Charlie's new player and point man to be vanquished this early in the game, as awestruck as I am by this new fearless facet of Maggie's unique brilliance. She was elegant, badass, and beautiful, and I'm so glad he's dead, but I don't know....... I felt like his death was his third and final disappointment. Sorry John, we'll always have Parnassus.

Oh my God, if Maggie was this episode's Oscar Winner for Best Actress, Linda Freaking McQueen WINS for Best Supporting Actress!!!! She's the other sassy heroine of "The Hourglass," mouthing off to FBI agents like nobody's business, and it is SENSATIONAL!!!! "What does FBI stand for, huh? Failed. Bad. Incompetent? We're Americans!!! My husband works for the postal service, I go to CHURCH!!! Do better!!!" You TELL 'EM Linda!!! She's a delight in every scene she's in, standing up to the suits, and telling them what's what!!! She's had it with these big, fancy, feds not protecting her daughter, and she ain't afraid to get vocal about it. Aaaaaah and the whole conversation with her and Chris was AMAZING!!! There is something so fascinating about two hard knock realists, two complete skeptics talking about the possibility of the Supernatural.

"There's a difference between special, Chris, and magic. Our daughter ain't magic."

"How would you know?"

"Because I wiped her snotty nose, for Christ's sake!!! What kind of mother misses something like that?"

"The kind that's too busy hiding bruises and paying bills to look up."

Linda's emphatic disbelief is so perfect, and I just love the way she says that, "Our daughter ain't magic!" I also love how Chris is starting to believe in Vic, and it's that burgeoning faith in his daughter's abilities that makes Linda start to wonder if maybe her daughter could be magic. Chris owning up to his past mistakes, and blaming himself, for his wife's oversight, was such a bittersweet moment too, wanting so badly to let her off the hook. He's changed, they both have, and I couldn't be more proud. Another beautifully human moment that I really loved was between her and Vic, and here we finally find out why the McQueen women can't be close to each other. "I never felt that you needed me." It's a rare, deeply insightful look into Linda's heart, a vulnerable truth, and I feel like I know them both even better through it. Linda needs to be needed, she needs to have somebody to take care of, somebody that relies on her, and with a drunk, philandering husband who sought comfort elsewhere, and a fiercely independent daughter, Linda had no one. She felt listless, without purpose, and thus drowned her sorrows with a tipped back bottle.

The scene with Vic and Lou cuddling in his hospital bed also strikes a chord in this veritable symphony of human emotion, and with every new episode, I ship Team McCarmody even harder!!! Lou with a stint in his heart, and Vic with a concussion, and injured spleen, have this impossibly sweet moment, in the midst of the aftermath and ever-present horror of the abduction of their son. I love how they anchor each other, try to calm each other down, and still manage to make each other laugh.

"Han Solo ain't half the mechanic as Lou Carmody."

"Did you- Did you just refer to yourself in the third person...... and rate yourself....... ABOVE Han Solo?"

Vic's laugh in that moment is so pure, and a much needed relief, as she holds onto the love, the teddy bear of a man, that Charlie couldn't take from her, and in that moment, she decides to focus on what she has left, even while fighting for what she has lost. I'm reminded of a quote from my other favourite show, HEROES. "We're human first, and heroes second."

Charlie may take a back seat this episode, but he is still a coaxing, debonair presence with a teasing linger, and not without another clever trick up his sleeve. "There is no need to hide your cellular telephone from me, My Boy," He coos as Wayne fumbles to sneak a call to his Mom. I was SHOCKED when Charlie urged Young Bats to do just that, call his mother. "What kind of MONSTER do you take me for?" He asks silkily, feigning indignance, and with bated breath, we wait as the phone rings, and rings, and rings...... No way in HELL is Vic not taking that call, and yet, Young Master Wayne hangs his wildly curly head, defeated, as the call goes unanswered. "She's a real heartbreaker, your mother...... isn't she? Never there for you, no matter how good you are. It's not personal, Wayne. In the end Vic McQueen cares only for herself and no one else," Charlie chortles, and he knows it's working....... bit by bit, he means to turn his new favourite charge, against his own mother, convince him of her neglect and indifference. My theory? Charlie can block calls using his creative power, which would explain how he's avoided capture, and the FBI's modern trappings for so long. You sneaky, sneaky boy!!!

OH HELLO CRAIG!!!! Yes, you read that right...... CRAIG, Wayne's father who burned to death in the Wraith, like a ghastly apparition appears to his son, with singed skin, and glazed over eyes. At first I thought this was Charlie manipulating Wayne, showing what his mother did to his father, and how he wasn't ever going to be safe with her, but to my own astonishment, Charlie could not see him!!! Craig encourages Wayne, tells him Charlie's lying, gives him hope, and insists she's coming for him. I thought that was a spectacular, wide-eyed SHOCK that came out of thin air, and I couldn't help but think about how Cassie appeared to her daughter in this same way........ Hmmm can children, if they are Strong Creatives themselves, see the parents they have lost at the hands of Charlie Manx? Curiouser and curiouser........

My breath caught, everything going numb, when that bloody tooth fell out in Wayne's tiny hand. I LOVE that little boy with all my heart and soul, and I'm sorry, Charlie, but I do NOT want him to become a vampire!!! Wayne starts to change in other ways too, playing with a butterfly, as his usual cheerful self, adorably naming him Sunny, before killing it, ripping it into shreds, his sweet little face devoid of any emotion. WHAT!? I had chills like crazy, and I felt heartsick. I don't know though, did anybody else think that butterfly looked strange, almost not quite real? The way the Wraith rolled down the window to let it in...... It makes me wonder if this didn't just happen in Wayne's mind.

I did notice though, how long it took for the Wraith to siphon off Wayne's youth to heal the nasty gash on Charlie's cheek. Even Charlie starts to worry, checking the mirror again and again, only to find it slightly healed, and it's not until the near end of the episode that he looks one more time, nails resting on the side of his head, sighing into his hand with relief, when he sees his once again flawless visage staring back. It's like Wayne is fighting the car, slowing down its effects, because no child has gone this long without turning!!! All exciting further proof that Wayne HAS to be a Strong Creative!!! I also love how Charlie continues to be the perfect, doting father figure, ever so careful and patient with Wayne, and I just melted, with a besotted sigh when he asked him if he had to use the water closet!" That was precious!!! Also, my new FAVOURITE thing ever, is Charlie click-clacking his long, gorgeous nails along the Wraith's windows as he walks past it!!! Dear GOD, Handsome, WHAT are you doing to me!?

THAT ending though........ I'm crying....... I SOBBED, I'm so not okay. What the freaking HELL.........!?!? Just as we're all having cozy Charlie and Wayne feelings, fawning over them both, that DAMNED BASTARD Bing Partridge comes out of NOWHERE surprising our dashing vampire, shoving the gas hose in his face, and he goes down HARD!!!! Once he's disabled the Wraith, he abducts Charlie, and leaves Wayne behind. It's blood-curdling to watch....... knowing what horrors Bing has already committed, and what dark intention he holds for his once upon a time hero, now that Charlie's left him to die. I'm freaking scared. I was hyperventilating, and full of murderous fury even hours after the episode had ended. The wait for next week is going to hit a lot different, after that cruel cliff-hanger, and I can only hope Charlie can dangle Christmasland in an effort to thwart Bing's fat, homicidal hand. Bing Partridge, you hateful Son of a BITCH, if you disturb so much as one strand of Charlie's beautiful raven hair, I'm gonna KILL you SO DEAD!!! Time's run out for the Hourglass, will another of Vic's foes meet the same fate? Bing Partridge must DIE!!! Somebody......... SAVE CHARLIE MANX!!!!!

#nos4a2 review #charlie manx #maggie leigh #vic mcqueen #linda mcqueen #wayne mcqueen #bing partridge #save charlie #the hourglass

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angelsfalling16 · 4 years ago

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Snow and The Flame

For the @coexchange, I gifted @carryonincorrectquotes a playlist with the promise of a fic outline, and I am finally delivering that!

Here is the playlist, and the outline is underneath the cut. I decided to preface this with an explanation about what I did, so bear with me for a moment.

The plan was to give them a playlist with a detailed fic outline, but it turns out that my outlines are incomprehensible unless you’re me (and sometimes even if you’re me) so this became more like a speed run through the fic where I half-rambled, half-narrated it along with explanations about which songs fit where.

There are a ton of songs on here because I thought it would be a good idea to pick songs and then figure out what the fic was going to be about, so each song inspired a different moment, and I had to figure out a way to work them all in. (I actually ended up limiting myself to 25 songs so that this wouldn’t end up being too long.)

I decided to break the outline into sections based off of the songs that each part goes with, and there are a few scenes that I went ahead and wrote, which are shared in italics to try to separate it from the rest. I also included some commentary on why some of the songs were chosen.

Basically, this post got really long but hopefully it isn’t too long or confusing, and I hope you all like it!!

(Also, I know that this isn’t technically a full fic, but since it’s over 6k words, I decided to go ahead and post it on ao3 to make it a little easier to peruse.)

Fic Summary: Simon is a superhero, a part of a group of heroes who protect the city. Baz’s family is a crime family, and they don’t care who they hurt. Baz wants a way out of this life, to get out from under his father’s thumb so that he can make his own choices

Some Background/backstory/world building:

Some people are born with powers, but they don't come into those powers until they are around 11 years old. When they do get those powers, they receive a token of some sort that symbolizes their power and basically gives them their power. If that token is destroyed, they will lose their powers. Luckily, there are only a few ways to destroy them.

Baz was a child spy who fell in love with the boy he was meant to be targeting, but Simon never even had a clue that he was being watched. Baz was very good at what he did, and while he was growing up with Simon. Simon was all alone, an orphaned child with magickal powers who could make it snow on a dry, summer day and bring cold into places where it was meant to be warm. Baz saw him grow up an outcast, all alone, before becoming a hero as he got older, and he couldn’t help but fall deeply, hopelessly in love.

Murder Song

Alright, so the fic starts out with a scene that was inspired by the song Murder song (5, 4, 3, 2, 1) by AURORA. This is one of the scenes that I went ahead and wrote, and yes, it is very angsty, but the entire fic is not like this.

Baz

“You don’t have to do this. You can make a different choice. Killing me isn’t the only option.”

“No, but it is the fun one.” His grin is dark and menacing, and I want to turn and run. But run where? My whole world is right here, his hand to my heart, ready to fill it with ice.

Simon finally caught me, and I am so tired of fighting that I’m ready to just give up.

He removes his hand from my chest, and for a moment, I believe that he has changed his mind about killing me, but then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gun, pointing it at my head.

This is it. This is the end.

5...

He’s holding a gun to my head, and he starts to count down. He’s giving me a literal countdown to the moment that he’s going to pull the trigger and end my life. I should be fighting. I should be doing everything in my power to stop him, but all of the fight has gone out of me. I can’t do this anymore. I’m done.

I have no reason to fight anyway. This is what I deserve. I have hurt too many people during my time on this earth to be given a kinder death. This is already too kind of one.

I deserve to be tortured to within an inch of my life and then be tortured again. I do not deserve a seemingly painless death.

4...

Simon is doing me a service here actually. He could be using his powers to choke all of the life and heat and from my body, slowly draining me of everything that I am, but instead, he’s holding a gun to my head, tears streaming down his face as he stares down at me where I kneel on the ground.

He’s doing it for mercy. He is putting an end to everything that I have suffered for far too long now. He is doing exactly what I want him to.

Still, as I look up at the man that I have loved for so long, my heart shatters in my chest, piercing my body with a spiking pain.

3...

I know that he doesn’t want to hurt me. He’s doing this for me. He’s taking my pain away. He’s drawing it from my body to his with the simple press of a trigger.

Tears burn my eyes, but they aren’t tears of sadness. They’re tears of relief. My pain will be gone in a mere two seconds. It is finally my time to let go, to let the weight of everything wash away as the blanket of death covers me and soothes me into a deep sleep.

2…

The sound of this number brings a facsimile of a smile to my face. I am so close to letting go of all of my pain. I am almost free. Soon, I will feel no more pain. I won’t feel anything anymore, but nothing has got to be better than this vice grip around my chest, suffocating me daily but never taking enough of me to kill me.

I just want to be free. I just want to be able to breathe.

I don’t want to worry about disappointing my family or anyone else.

1...

I have to close my eyes as he gets to 1. I can’t look at him as he does this.

With the second that I have left, I imagine him holding my lifeless body in his arms and crying over my death. The one he delivered but didn’t cause. I imagine for just a moment him caring for me the way that I always hoped he would. I imagine him loving me and mourning the loss of a love he never got to have.

Then, the gun goes off, and I’m gone.

***

I jerk up in bed with a gasping breath, and it takes me a moment to understand what happened.

It was all just a dream, and I’m not sure whether I should be relieved or disappointed. I was so close.

But also in that last moment, as the gun went off, I wondered what would have happened if I had made a different choice. What if I had gone to Simon before it was too late?

I know that he would never help me, but I could turn myself in. At least if I’m locked away, my family can’t force me to hurt anyone anymore. I will be free from them, but I won’t be dead.

I laugh at myself.

Of course I won’t be free. I will never be free from them. They will always come for me. Break me out or kill me for betraying them.

There is no way out of this for me.

Fight Song – Rachel Platten (cover by KHS and Benjamin Kheng) (If you have time, I highly recommend going and watching the youtube video where they recorded this; it’s pretty cool.)

When Baz wakes up and realizes that it was all a dream, he also realizes that he doesn’t want death to be the answer. If it has to be, it will be a last-ditch option, but he wants to try something else. He thinks Simon could help him. Instead of finding Simon and asking him to kill him, he could ask him for help.

He is deciding to take back his life, making a new life for himself and fighting for a better future, which is where Fight Song comes in. Baz has this whole, long moment where he questions whether any of this is a good idea before he decides that it has to be better than the alternative, which would be his family killing him.

He is going against his family in order to chase after a chance at a better future, one where he gets to live and doesn’t have to hurt people anymore. It won’t be an easy journey, but he is willing to try. He wants his life to be different, and this is where it begins.

Worlds Collide – Louden Swain

Asking Simon for help might be the hardest thing that Baz has ever done, but he does it. It isn’t all that hard finding the gang of superheroes running around town trying to save the day (because they never take a day off, do they? Baz thinks with mild disgust, wondering what that must be like, trying to save everyone when there will always be evil in the world), and it’s even easier to get Simon alone. All he has to do is hide in the shadows and then yank him into an alleyway.

Of course, Simon thinks it’s some kind of trap at first. (What else is he supposed to think when someone pulls him into a dark alley? Especially when said person is his archnemesis.)

Why would Baz want to suddenly side with the heroes? That’s just it; he wouldn’t. So, this absolutely has to be a trap, and Simon is not going to fall into it. He is prepared for a fight, but that isn’t what Baz wants. That’s quite the opposite of what he is looking for here.

Baz realizes that he only has a short amount of time to convince Simon that he’s telling the truth before someone comes looking for him.

He gets an idea and slips the chain that he’s worn for as long as he can remember from around his neck. It’s the token/source of his power. Simon could easily destroy it, therefore taking away Baz’s power, but Baz trusts him. (Simon is the good guy after all.) He’s still worried, though, because the last person you should give your power token to is your rival, whose one goal in life is to stop you at any cost.

If you’re going to give your token to anyone, it should be the person you love, which Baz supposes Simon fits that bill, too. Baz hates himself for it, but he fell in love with the one person his family has been training him to kill for pretty much his entire life.

Baz has a sick feeling in his stomach as he watches Simon slip the chain around his neck. It clanks against Simon’s own power token, which has been woven into his suit and sits just over his chest. Baz thinks that that’s a rather foolish place to wear it, out in the open where any criminal could easily access it while battling him, because if someone had the right weapon (which Baz’s family does, coincidentally), they could easily hit Simon there and take his powers away from him.

Simon sees Baz eye the two tokens, and he worries for a moment that he might change his mind and make a grab for the both of them, but then his eyes find Simon’s face again.

They then agree to stop fighting each other, and they make an uneasy truce with Baz swearing that he won’t try to hurt Simon – or anyone else – so long as they are working together, and they decide to meet up at a diner in town the next day to talk.

Baz is antsy the entire time, constantly looking over his shoulder, afraid that he might have been followed. Meeting in such a public place probably wasn’t a good idea, but Simon didn’t really give him much of a choice on venues.

They start to talk, and it’s weird how easily they slip into the moment together, their two very different worlds colliding.

It’s almost like in another world, they might have gotten along.

They spend most of their time with Baz explaining to Simon why he wants to leave his family and promising half a dozen more times that he doesn’t plan to turn on him.

When they leave, Simon says that they should meet up again in a few days, so they do, and they continue meeting for a couple of weeks, but eventually, Baz says that they can’t keep meeting up in public like this. Someone from his family might spot them together, and he’ll be in trouble. Or Simon will. Or both. Either way, they cannot be spotted together.

He suggests that they meet up at Simon’s place since Baz is staying with his family, but of course, Simon says absolutely not. He still doesn’t fully trust Baz yet.

Fortunately, Simon knows a place they can go where no one in Baz’s posh family would ever deign to step foot in.

A Place For Us – Fitz and the Tantrums & Dancing’s Not a Crime – P!ATD

So, there’s some seedy, underground club, and why Simon knows about it, I have no idea. They go there to talk, and for whatever reason, one of them (probably Baz) decides that they would be less likely to be overheard if they went out on the dancefloor and danced together.

Simon is hesitant at first, but Baz turns on that bit of wicked charm and holds his hand out to him, an obvious challenge.

“Come on. Dancing’s not a crime, and it’s not like I’m going to hurt you in front of all these people. Plus, I told you that I wouldn’t.”

“I didn’t realize that this truce included dancing.”

“It does when you don’t want to stand out. You won’t touch any kind of drink, and you won’t dance. You stick out like a sore thumb, and sooner or later someone is going to notice you – and not in a good way.”

Simon chews on his lips as he thinks about it. Finally, he sighs and carefully places his hand in Baz’s, whose expression turns even more wicked, edging towards a smirk, but Simon doesn’t have too much time to think about it before he’s being pulled towards the dancefloor.

Simon tries to keep up a conversation as they dance, but it doesn’t go all that well. The music is too loud, there are too many bodies pressing in around them, Baz doesn’t actually seem all that interested in talking.

Finally, Simon gives in and just dances with Baz, giving into the music and enjoying himself without any worries for the first time since he can remember. It ends up being really nice to dance together.

Quarter Past Midnight - Bastille & Criminal - Britney Spears & Accidentally In Love - Counting Crows & First Time He Kissed a Boy - Kadie Elder & Weak - AJR

The club closes at midnight. Neither of them wants to part (even though they don’t actually say that aloud) so they just walk around, weaving around abandoned buildings until they reach the empty streets of downtown. At some point they start running, and they’re laughing and having fun, just enjoying themselves.

After a while, they start to slow, and Baz pulls Simon into another alley, the way he did a couple of weeks ago.

The last time this happened, Simon wondered what he was supposed to expect when he gets pulled into a dark alley by his rival, but this time, he knows exactly what he wants to happen, and it is him who pushes Baz into the wall this time.

But he stops there, with a few mere inches between them, and Simon is silently frustrated.

They stare at each other for a long time before Simon finally kisses Baz.

Then, Simon has a realization about his feelings, which is what the next three songs are about. (and then Weak is a song thrown in to describe how Baz is probably feeling and an allusion to that line in the book when he says he’s weak.) Simon was absolutely not supposed to fall in love with a criminal. He wonders how long he’s felt this way and if he somehow fell deeply for him over the past couple of weeks.

There are a lot of songs for this short scene, but I feel like there is a lot going on with Simon internally. He’s in love and freaking out and kissing a boy for the first time (a very criminal-like boy) and there are so many thoughts circling through his mind that he can’t quite grab onto any particular one to think through it, so he ends up pushing all of the thoughts away and just enjoying kissing Baz.

And then here’s a little moment that I wrote:

Baz

It feels like we’re running, but running from what? Everything? Or nothing? Maybe we just feel free. I do, at least. This is the freest that I have felt in a long time. The most carefree, too.

I’m laughing as we run down street after street, under broken streetlamp after broken streetlamp. I don’t know where we’re going or why we’re running, and I’m too afraid to ask because I don’t want to break the moment.

I don’t want to give Simon a reminder of who I am or why he doesn’t like me, so I just run down the empty streets with him, watching his smile and bouncing curls, pretending for a moment like my life is different.

Like I wasn’t raised to be a villain and like my father isn’t one of the most wanted criminals around. For now, I get to pretend like I grew up normal, with no powers and no bizarre family expectations. I can pretend, just for a little while, that I’m just a guy, not a villain, not a monster.

Human - Christina Perri

A day or two after the kiss with Simon, Baz decides that it’s time to tell his family about his choice to leave. He knows that his father will not take it well, so he’s relieved when it’s just Daphne at home.

He explains to her his plan to leave all of this criminal business behind, and he says that she should leave it behind as well. She seems open to the idea, but she also seems afraid. Baz is sure that she had no idea what she was marrying into when she met Malcolm and agreed to be his partner, and she probably feels just as trapped as he does.

Baz wants her to stand beside him, but she won’t – she has the kids to worry about and her own life. Baz gets it, but he wishes that there was another way.

He wants his half-siblings to know that there is a choice – they don’t have to be evil. It might be too late for Mordelia – they’re already turning her into a child soldier, the same way they did to him when he was younger – but he can at least try to help the other three kids. He doesn’t want them to end up the way he did, trapped with no way out.

He won’t force Daphne to do something that she is uncomfortable with, so he leaves for now, planning to figure out a way to get them out. He wants them all to have a choice.

Baz goes to talk to Fiona next, and he’s surprised to find his father there.

Apparently, the two of them have a task for him. They’re always giving Baz “tasks”. A bank to rob, a restaurant to terrorize, but the one they give him this time is the one that he has been dreading for years.

They tell him that it is time for him to find the Snow Prince and put an end to him.

Baz wants to laugh, but he also wants to be sick. If only they knew that Baz had been with him just the other night, had the perfect opportunity to kill him, but he let himself be kissed and held and loved instead. Even though he knew that it might turn out to all be a mistake. Even if Simon probably woke up the next morning with a heart full of regret, wishing that he could take back everything that he said and everything he did that night.

Even if Simon does regret that night, Baz will never be able to kill him.

Still, he knows he won’t be able to change their minds, so he agrees, knowing full well that he won’t go through with it.

At this point, he should just try running away. Maybe Simon will go with him. That way, Baz might be able to keep him away from his family. Just because Baz leaves, doesn’t mean that his family will suddenly stop going after Simon. They will be after the both of them, and if they’re together, maybe Baz will be able to protect Simon, or put himself between Simon and his family when it is time for them to battle.

At the end of all of this, Baz knows he won’t survive, but maybe, just maybe, he can keep Simon safe.

The song fits in with Baz’s internal thoughts/angst. He’s torn between that old desire to please his family and the new desire for a better life. He wishes he could somehow do both, but he’s only human and can only do so much.

The Greatest - Sia

Baz leaves immediately to go warn Simon about what his family has planned and to ask him to run away with him, but what he doesn’t know is that it was a set-up. His father and aunt followed him there, and they’re prepared for a fight.

Baz

“So, your cousin was right,” my father says. “He said he saw you leaving some seedy club the other night with the Snow Prince, but I told him he must be mistaken.”

“Dev,” I hiss. Simon was wrong.

There is one person in my family who doesn’t care about their reputation, so of course he would know about that place. I bet he was going there to meet up with Niall. Did he tell our family that? Probably not, because he knows what they do to people who aren’t like us, who don’t have our kinds of power, who are powerless. They don’t want anyone marrying or dating or sleeping their way into our family. They would likely kill him, or at least make him “mysteriously disappear”.

“I didn’t want to believe him, but here’s the proof. My own son, a betrayer of his family.”

Fiona sneers but stays silent.

I can’t believe that I led them here to Simon. I can’t believe that I put him in danger when all I wanted was to keep him safe.

I look around, trying to find a way out, a way to get Simon out of danger.

There aren’t a lot of ways out of here, and running won’t fix this, but it’s the only option right now.

“Run,” I shout, grabbing Simon’s hand and pulling him after me.

We run out of his apartment and disappear into the night, hand in hand.

This won’t be the end of my father and aunt coming after us. There will be a battle, very soon, and we have to be prepared.

Crazy Youngsters - Ester Dean, Into the Storm - BANNERS, Someone to You - BANNERS

Simon and Baz join with Penny and the other superheroes and begin planning what they’re going to do. A battle is coming, and unless they all work together, there is no chance of them winning.

Baz tries to go the self-sacrificial route and offers to just turn himself in so that none of them will have to fight, but they aren’t having it. They are all too focused on saving others for their own good. Baz thinks that they would all benefit from finding some sense of self-preservation.

They don’t seem to need Baz’s help. They work like a well-oiled machine as they make a battle plan, and Baz is on the outside of that. He begins to feel like he’s getting in the way, so he starts to walk around, taking in their little home base.

Simon follows him not long after, and this is the first time that they have really gotten a chance to talk since the other night, since they kissed.

Baz once again offers him an out, telling him that he’ll be safer if he isn’t trying to fight Baz’s battles for him. Simon won’t hear any of it, though. He’s going to fight, and Baz can’t stop him.

Then, they have a soft moment. They are fighting for each other, to keep each other safe. Neither of them wants to see the other get hurt, and they would do anything to protect each other.

Simon and Baz get their own BANNERS songs to go with how they’re feeling in this section.

Into the Storm is for Simon because he’s telling Baz that he would do anything, weather any kind of storm, for him. He would do anything for him. If his world is falling apart (which it is) he will be there, and he will follow him into the storm. (Just listen to the words and it gives you what Simon is trying to say to him.)

And then, Someone to You is Baz’s song. He just wants to mean something to someone, especially if that someone is Simon. He wants to be more than a weapon, wants his life to mean more than that. He doesn’t want to die, and he doesn’t want his life to be meaningless. He believes that Simon could lead him to a better life, one where his life will mean something.

Fight Song - Rachel Platten (a repeat because Baz is once again choosing to fight), I Want to Break Free - Queen, Whatever It Takes - Imagine Dragons, Believer - Imagine Dragons, Titanium - David Guetta ft. Sia (cover by Madilyn Bailey), Elastic Heart - Sia, Angel with a Shotgun - The Cab,

[a/n: my brain kept saying “fight scene, fight scene” even though I don’t think I have ever written a fight scene before, which is why this section is a bit lacking in content, and then all of these songs said that they wanted to be included, so that’s why there are so many for this small section. (If you want to skip over these songs, I won’t blame you, but I feel it’s important to at least listen to Angel with a Shotgun before moving on because it sort of sets up the feeling for the next part.)]

They all meet somewhere for the big fight, and at first, it seems like a pretty evenly matched fight, but bit by bit, Baz’s family starts to win. They’re stronger and better trained. They have been fighting their entire lives and don’t care about who gets hurt.

Baz can see that they’re losing, and he tries to figure out a way for them to win or to get everyone out of here safely.

And then we come to the turning point of the fight…

How to Save a Life - The Fray (Okay, so, I put on a random Spotify playlist to try to get myself to focus on this outline, and when this song played, I knew that it was exactly what I needed for this scene. Otherwise, I was just going to leave this part song-less which would have been rather unfortunate because it really needed something.)

And I actually wrote this entire scene:

Baz

We’re losing.

I know it was a long shot to think that a ragtag team of heroes would be able to fight my criminal family and win, but I wanted to believe that we could do it.

Simon is facing off against my aunt, and there is a serious burn on one of his arms. I want to run to him, to stand between him and my aunt - between him and any kind of harm - but I am just barely making it through this battle against my father.

You would think that the plants that he keeps growing to impede me would be useless against my flames, but there is a vine of thorns wrapped around my arm, constricting tighter and tighter, restricting any blood flow. It’s unrooted but still growing.

My arm is beginning to lose feeling, and between the pain from that and the pain from the poison one of his earlier plants hit me with, I can barely control the flames that I’m shooting out at him with my free hand.

The thorny vines reach my hand, sinking a particularly large one into the palm, and I have to grit my teeth to keep in an anguished cry. I will fight to the very last moment. I will not give up or give in.

My father will have to kill me if he wants to stop fighting me.

And it looks like he plans to do just that.

He calls up more vines from the ground to start wrapping around my legs and pulling them together so that I am unable to move. I reach down, calling a flame into my hand, and attempt to burn the vines away, but my power is waning and the small flame that I just manage to draw is not enough.

I’m too weak. I’m going to lose this.

“Give it up, son,” my father says, stepping closer to me.

“Never,” I hiss, and with one last burst of power, I shoot a stream of fire at him.

His sleeve catches fire, but he barely even winces before a heavy rain falls down upon him, just long enough to put out the fire. I can’t see my cousin, but I know that he must be nearby, fighting someone whilst also combating my other move for my father.

The vines have reached my hips now. I can’t move, and I don’t have enough energy to use my power.

With a wicked grin, my father steps forward and reaches out his hand, preparing to press it to my chest and send out his signature venomous plant to take hold and poison me, a slow, painful death. I bare my teeth at him, yanking at the vines that are creeping up my body and completely immobilizing me.

His hand has just about reached my chest when someone throws themself in front of me, obstructing his attack.

“Stop!” My step-mom shouts, and her voice rings out across the battlefield, cutting through the flames and wild wind. Through the snowfall and earth shakes that I had grown used to by this point.

Everyone stops where they are and turns to stare at her.

She wasn’t here before. Her powers are healing and protective in nature. I was sure that she was with the younger children, keeping them away from the battle to end all battles. But here she is now: standing between her husband and stepson.

“Stop fighting,” she says, her words directed at my father.

“Move out of the way. This does not concern you.”

“It absolutely does concern me. If you mean to kill my son, then it is my responsibility to stop you.”

Tears spring to my eyes, and I am uncertain whether it’s from the pain or from her words. She has never called me her son before. I always thought that she saw me as the child she had to put up with and never wanted. I thought she cared for her own children more than she ever would with me.

I was wrong, though, because she is right here, putting herself in harm’s way to protect me.

“If you plan to hurt him, you will have to go through me,” she says, taking up a protective stance in front of me, and I think she means it. She would sacrifice herself to protect me, the same way that I was ready to do for Simon a moment ago.

I feel something wet drip down my face, and I am unsure whether it is blood or tears. I’m starting to feel woozy now. It wouldn’t take much more at this point to end me. It would almost be a kindness.

And now, we have come full-circle. Would it be better to suffer through the pain of my family’s hatred and murderous attacks or to just die now and have it all be over?

I don’t care which one seems better, though.

I only care about what I want. And what I want is a future. A future with Simon and a future away from all of this violence. Which is why I came here to fight today. I came to fight for a future, and now Daphne is helping me fight for that future as well.

“Tell everyone to stand down,” she says. “We shouldn’t be fighting our own family. He is your son for merlin’s sake. That should mean something to you.”

“He stopped being my son the moment he decided to hang out with heroes.”

Even though I knew this would be the case, it hurts to hear him actually say it. In this moment, he is announcing to me and to everyone else that I no longer have a home, that I no longer have a family. I am completely alone.

I glance behind me and am reminded that I am not actually completely alone. Simon and the others may not be related to me by blood, and I may not have known them all for long, but in standing beside me in all of this, they have become my second family. They care more for my safety than my real family does at least.

I am several inches taller than Daphne, so I have a clear view of my father’s expression. He is obviously torn, unsure whether to continue trying to kill me, killing his wife in the process, or let me go, let the family traitor run free.

For a moment, I think that he might actually kill Daphne. There is murder in his eyes, and no one can stop him. But then his stance relaxes and he lowers his hand before signaling to the others to retreat.

The three of us continue to stand there, at the center of a burning battlefield until they have all disappeared back into the woods.

“Go,” Daphne commands, and Malcolm does, giving me one last look before turning away.

Daphne waits until he has disappeared into the trees and still a moment longer before she turns to me.

She looks me up and down, watching as the vines slowly release me. I can’t tell if that helps or worsens the pain, but at least I’m safe for now.

It’s hard to meet Daphne’s eyes because when I do, I can see her pain written so clearly there. She is still torn, but she made a choice today, one that gives me hope.

“I’m sorry, but I think you have to leave,” she says quietly. “I bought you some time, but I don’t think he’s going to give up forever.”

I nod in understanding. I knew from the beginning that this is how it would end, me being shunned from my family. At least maybe I will have the chance at finally being free of them.

I am just about to turn away from her and join the others, but I hesitate before stepping forward and wrapping my arms around her in a tight hug. She hugs me back, and I can feel her power washing over me like a warm blanket.

She’s healing all of my wounds. Wiping away the already-forming bruises and closing up the cuts and puncture wounds from the thorns. She wipes away all of the pain, all of it except the ache in my chest.

I whisper a hoarse thank you that isn’t possibly enough, but it’s all that I have. She risked her life to save me, and I will never be able to repay her.

When we pull away, her eyes are wet, but she wears a small smile.

“I’m happy that you’re safe. I love you.”

“I love you, too, mom.”

I’ve never called her that before. I thought it might be crossing a line, but now I can see that she was there for me all along, even during those times when I thought I was alone. She mothered a child she didn’t have to, a child who was not her own, a child who should have been more grateful.

I feel a wetness stream down my face, and this time, I know for sure that it’s tears.

Today, I gained a future, but I lost my family.

I will miss them, but I know that this is the only choice I have if I want to get through this alive, so with tears in my eyes, I turn to join the others, crossing over to where Simon is and taking his hand.

I don’t turn to watch Daphne leave. It would be too much right now, and I’m not sure that I wouldn’t go running after her.

I will come back someday. I will get Daphne and my siblings out of here, but for now, I am running. I am running to a place where I will hopefully be able to grow stronger and be able to fight my family and win. I may never be able to change the minds of my father and aunt, but I can try to protect the rest of my family.

For now, though, it is time for me to go.

Burn - Ellie Goulding, On Top Of The World - Imagine Dragons

That may be the end of the fighting, but it is not the end of the story yet, nor even the end of their trouble because just as the heroes join together, looking over each other’s injuries, there is the sound of an explosion.

Baz spins around just in time to watch the edge of the trees go up in flames, a fire burning that could threaten to take out the entire patch of woods.

[a/n: I have no idea why the fight takes place here, except that I wanted the fic to end with them standing on a cliff, looking out over the town, with a fire burning behind the, but then the fire gets put out immediately so…]

He has no doubt that it was his aunt’s doing. She warned him after she and Malcolm caught him with Simon that this is how things would end: in flames. (“One day everything will burn, and your friends will turn on you, thinking it was you. Where will you be then? All alone in a world that hunts you.”)

This is her parting gift, a glimpse at the future that she sees for him.

Baz grimaces at it. His aunt knew that he would not be able to put it out himself, and it was her last opportunity to show his new allies that he is of no use to them. It isn’t until this moment that Baz sees the absolute truth of it. Maybe he should just go now, leave them all before anyone can get hurt because of him.

But then Simon squeezes his hand and smiles at him as he says, “It’s alright. I’ve got this. We’re a team now, remember?”

Maybe this won’t be so bad after all. They may be opposites in some respects, but that just makes them stronger together, playing off of each other’s strengths to fight whatever is thrown their way.

As Simon puts out the fire, Baz allows himself to feel a bit of relief and even some hope. Maybe there’s a chance for them after all. Yes, they’ll have to start all over, but at least he won’t be constantly worried about being killed.

Standing there triumphant and with Simon standing beside them, Baz can’t help but smile a bit.

He feels like he’s on top of the world. But also like he could reach over and hold the world in my arms.

He finally has everything that he has ever wanted when he never thought he could ever be this happy, never that he could have anything that he wanted.

Baz is so glad that he was wrong. He’s free now, and they can go anywhere. He wonders if Simon has ever traveled before…

***

A/N: And that’s the story. I hope you all enjoyed it, and I would love to hear your thoughts :)

#snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #carry on #wayward son #rainbow rowell #snowbaz fic #ish #fic outline #fic ideas #my writing #snow and the flame #coexchange

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peachpitmp3 · 5 years ago

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@revolutionarywriters Event 1: “people can live for a hundred years without living a minute”

Word Count: 2489

Summary: angsty short story?

“You’re insane.”

“You love it.”

Dea sighed and pressed her fingers to her temples, attempting to ward off the oncoming headache.

“I can’t just leave work to go off on some random, possibly life-threatening vacation with you!”

“It’s not a vacation,” Jemma protested. “It’s an adventure! A quest! A journey! And it’s hardly life-threatening.”

Dea rolled her eyes and responded, “Okay, well, I can’t leave work to go off on some random adventure with you then! And it is most certainly life-endangering! At least six of the ideas you had involved jumping from high places. Don’t tell me that’s safe!”

“Aw, come on! You’re seriously telling me you don’t want to go do something fun?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize doing obscenely dangerous activities was fun!”

“Look, Dea, people can live for a hundred years without living a minute.”

“What does that even mean?? Don’t go all obscure quotes and hidden messages on me.” Dea stood up, glaring down at Jemma.

Jemma didn’t stand up, though somehow Dea still felt looked down upon. “Dea, it means live a little! Have some fun! Enjoy life! Take risks! Don’t just exist, be alive!”

“I won’t be able to enjoy life if I’m DEAD!” Dea finished the sentence in a near yell. She internally winced at her volume but didn’t dare let her body show it. She would not let her girlfriend have the satisfaction of seeing her regret anything. Jemma was not going to win this time.

“Sorry, what was that?” Jemma grinned and Dea blanched. Of course this was when her habit of talking to herself would choose to make its appearance.

“I said no,” Dea said with finality, crossing her arms and sitting back on the couch. Her neck rested against Jemma’s arm that was now sneakily curled around her shoulders. She hated how comfortable it was. She hated how she involuntarily moved closer. Stupid body betraying her. She was trying to win an argument, for heaven’s sake.

Jemma pouted and Dea sat on her own hand so that she wouldn’t tuck Jemma’s lip back into her mouth with a finger. “Are you sure? I promise I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

Dea’s chest felt warmer at the sincerity in her voice. Not quite warm enough to forget about her responsibilities to her work, but still. Warm.

“I can hear you thinking from over here,” Jemma said, a small wrinkle forming between her eyebrows. Dea hated herself for causing it. “I really do think you’ll enjoy it. And if you don’t we can always leave early.”

Dea let out a long breath. “You know how important my work is to me. Why can’t you go by yourself?”

“Babe. It’s a couple’s vacation. Going by myself would be the saddest, most pathetic thing ever. Everyone at the resort would judge me! Can’t you get off work for a few days?”

“Have I mentioned how much Sam hates me? He’s more likely to go make friends with a unicorn than give me even half a day off. No one could take my shift anyway; Kenzie’s already working extra shifts to pay for her mom’s hospital bills and Carolina… well, I’m not exactly keen on asking my ex to do my work for me. And before you ask--yes, there are more than two other waitresses, but I barely know any of them, so that’s not an option.” Dea sighed, feeling guiltier and guiltier by the minute, a sentiment exacerbated by the sad puppy dog eyes her girlfriend was giving her.

Jemma ran a hand through her short hair, an action Dea recognized as a tic for when she was frustrated but trying not to show it. She felt a pang in her chest followed by a sort of hollowness. She had let Jemma down.

“Look, I’ll talk to him, okay? But I doubt he’ll say yes. Just don’t get your hopes up.” The words were out of her mouth before she could process what she had just said. Oh, shit. What did I just do. He’s gonna kill me. I can’t ask him. This is such a bad idea. Why did I just say that. Before she could spiral any further, she focused on how Jemma’s eyes lit up, the warm brown radiating happiness. Happiness because of her. Jemma’s face split into a delighted smile and Dea regretted her words just a little bit less.

~~~

“No.”

Yeah, forget everything before. Dea definitely regretted ever saying she would talk to Sam. Honestly, what was she thinking? She stood awkwardly in front of the desk, having never been invited to sit in the chair that she was now squeezing the back of. Her knuckles were frighteningly pale with the pressure she was inflicting and her palms were beginning to cramp, but she knew if she let go she would begin fidgeting. Sam hated her fidgeting.

“Please, it’ll only be a few days. I’ll make up the time after I get back.”

The man sitting in front of her rolled his eyes uncompromisingly. “What good is that? I need you here during your shift. That’s why it’s your shift. Not a shift that you could show up to if you felt like it. Your. Shift. Your responsibility. If you’re gone, we can’t serve as many customers. Can’t serve as many customers, we don’t get enough profits. You know what that means?”

Dea ducked her head and fixed her eyes on the dirty laces of her shoes. “Yes.”

Sam gave no indication that he had heard her speak and continued, “It means I don’t get paid. And if I don’t get paid, you don’t get paid. I have a feeling you don’t want that to happen.”

“What if I could get someone to cover my shift?” The words were out. She’d said them. Of course, she had absolutely no idea what she would do if he said--

“Fine.” Dea looked up, shocked. Sam crossed his arms over his burly chest. “If you can find someone who is willing to take your shifts, you can go on whatever vacation you want.”

Adventure, Dea silently corrected, thinking of Jemma’s earlier words. “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me. Just go find your replacement.”

Dea nodded, smiled, and left the office, making sure to completely shut the door so Sam couldn’t find a reason to take back his words. She rushed out through the back door and waited for it to close with a click. Then, she let out a small squeal of excitement for the first time in what felt like years.

“Someone’s happy.” Dea whipped her head to her right and saw the exact person she both needed and dreaded to talk to leaning against the wall.

“Carolina,” Dea said, stuffing her hands in her jean pockets just to give them something to do. “Hi.”

The other woman pushed off from the faded brick and slowly but confidently approached Dea. A predator stalking her prey. Taking her time. Carolina walked forward. Dea took a step back. It was almost like a dance, but the lack of breath in Dea’s lungs wasn’t from any physical exertion. In. 2, 3, 4. Hold. 2, 3, 4. Out. 2, 3, 4. Hold. 2, 3, 4. In.

Carolina reached the space right next to Dea and stood there, bracing her hand on the wall and leaning into Dea’s personal space. Dea attempted to remember her breathing exercises, but Carolina’s breath on her face was too much of a distraction. And not the good kind.

“Y’know,” Carolina said, rolling the word in her mouth with the wicked playfulness of a cat batting a mouse with its paws, “I couldn’t help but overhear that you need someone to cover your shift.”

Dea took another breath. In, out. Slow and deep. That’s what she said. Shit. Stop it. You need to focus. Dea mustered every bit of confidence she had and said, “Are you offering?” It came out much less smoothly and far more desperately than she had intended, but she had said it. That was a positive, at least.

If Carolina was surprised at her speaking up, she didn’t show it, simply replying with a smirk, “Depends… what do I get for it?”

A cold feeling filled the pit of Dea’s stomach. “You get the moral satisfaction of knowing you did something nice for another human being?”

“Hm… not quite what I was looking for.”

“What do you want then?” The question burst from her lips in her desperation. Dea knew there wasn’t anyone else she could go to for help. Carolina was the only one. And if there was something Dea could give her to get her to do this… it was worth it.

“What do you think?” Carolina purred, face inching ever closer. Dea wanted to move away but Carolina was just too close. If she moved… she shouldn’t move. But this was getting too much. Carolina was too close and too much and it was all in her face and Dea could not--

“I think we broke up for a reason, Carolina. Will you take my shifts or not?”

Carolina’s face twisted into a disappointed frown and she moved away from Dea, shifting to lean against the wall next to her. “You know, you’re not exactly giving me any incentives to do it…”

Dea rolled her eyes and began to walk away, doing her absolute best to stifle any emotions before they escaped. At this point, the inside of her cheek was bleeding from biting it so much, but she didn’t dare stop. The taste of iron was almost grounding; at the very least, it distracted her enough to hold back tears.

Just as Dea reached the edge of the parking lot and was about to turn the corner, she heard Carolina call, “Wait. I’ll do it.” She turned around, barely masking the surprise on her face.

“Why?”

Carolina hesitated for a moment before responding, “You need a break from work. Sucks that it’s not with me, but you need it.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Dea said, still reeling from the sudden change of character. “Really, Carolina, thank you. I think I do need it. Um… yeah. Thanks.”

Carolina’s confident smirk returned. “No problem. See ya.” Without waiting for Dea to say anything, she turned around and walked back into the restaurant, not looking back once.

As the door swung shut behind Carolina, Dea shook her head slightly to clear her confusion. What was that? Doesn’t matter. A smile grew on Dea’s face as she began the walk home. Jemma’s going to be so happy.

~~~

“Jemma? I’m home!” Her voice resounded in the small entryway as she removed her shoes. “Babe, you’ll never believe what just happened! So first, I talked to Sam and he said I could go as long as someone covered my shift. And then when I went outside, I saw Carolina and originally she was acting like, well, Carolina, but then she said she’d do it! She agreed to take my shifts! I know, I couldn’t believe it either, but I guess she does have some good in her. So we can go to your ridiculously dangerous couple’s vacation after all! I’m so exci--”

No. Time slowed to a crawl. Somewhere in the distance, Dea heard delicate ceramic shatter as she braced herself on a nearby drawer, knocking off all Jemma’s stupid collectible figurines. Clumsy, numb fingers fumbled for the landline, holding it for the first time. Jemma always thought that landlines were pointless. Dea agreed. Now, Dea dialed 911 and forced herself to think clearly.

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?”

“There’s something wrong with my girlfriend. She’s unconscious on the floor and I don’t think she’s breathing. I’m at 37 South Cypress Lane, please send an ambulance.”

“Thank you for providing your location, we will send an emergency dispatch unit as soon as possible. Try to stay calm; help is on the way.”

Help is on the way. Help is on the way. Help is on the way. Dea hung up the phone but the words still echoed in her head as she sunk to the floor, rocking back and forth. Help is on the way. Help is on the way. Help is on the way.

The help was too late.

~~~

“Jemma once told me that people can live for a hundred years without living a minute.” Dea stood in front of the sea of black. Black veils, black dresses, black suits, black shoes. “At the time, I didn’t know what she meant; I thought she was just being cryptic. But now I understand. So many people spend their lives just going through the motions. Doing whatever they think they are supposed to do, and never caring about any of it. Jemma cared, though, and she always did her best to make others care too.

“I think the thing about Jemma was that she cared too much. About her passions, her family, her friends, her pets, her political views. Everything. She cared so much that she was terrified of ever hurting anyone. I think-- I think that’s why she never told anyone about her cancer. She was petrified at the thought of seeing anyone she loved in pain. She wanted everyone’s memories of her to be beautiful, and positive, and perfect. And they were. I don’t know anyone with a single truly bad memory of Jemma. That’s how she wanted to live on with us; beautiful, positive, and perfect.

“But having been lucky enough to have known her closely, I think I can safely say she was not perfect. Beautiful? Yes. Of course. Jemma was more beautiful than anything else in the universe. Positive? Well, I don’t know about always, but most of the time, she devoted so much of her energy to optimism and bringing happiness to other people’s lives, including mine. But no, she was not perfect. No one is. I do think, though--” Dea’s voice broke for a moment and she bit her lip hard, trying to suppress the tears. Her nose stung with the effort and finally she gave in. Voice unsteady but still strong, she resumed, “I do think that she was pretty damn close. And I will miss her every moment of every day. Jemma, if you can hear me, if you are listening, thank you. You brought so much joy and excitement into my life. You inspire me to live life to the fullest, and to never let it become a routine. I will live every minute of every day, thanks to you, and I will never forget you.”

Dea nodded to the people assembled before her and stepped down off the podium, walking away quickly before anyone could approach to offer condolences. As she turned to take one last look at the canvas photo of Jemma, a single thought drifted through her mind before settling softly. I wish we could’ve gone on our adventure.

#revolutionarywriters #event 1 #my writing

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geekgemsspooksandtoons · 4 years ago

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The Journals Of Derek Grady Part 1

This is a story set within my Bioshock Rebirth AU. A reimaging/reboot of the Bioshock franchise. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/626141727587270656/bioshock-rebirth-timeline-this-is-a-timeline-of-an Just as a heads up if anyone is wondering about the context. I’ve had some stories in my drafts for a long time now and I’m finally publicly sharing them.

I made a post talking about this. There is this character named Derek that was in one of my pilot stories for this AU. But I felt strangely ashamed of how I wrote him. But I’d feel it’s best to use him in better context. In something very intriguing. Mainly the point of view of the Rapture Civil War from someone who fought in it.

There is this silly theme of certain characters being named Derek in some AU’s of mine. Usual they are men that seem well intentioned, but their mind isn’t always in the best place. I’m just gonna make this because this is something I wanna make.

This was first started/made on December 23rd 2020. I’m not gonna have this beta read. It’s time I just upload this shit. I got the two tags done with. But I would like to mention I was heavily or so inspired by the Star Wars Battlefront 2 Classic story. Especially with the first journal from this character being inspired by the, “Knightfall” level. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2lgG2ENW5Ac Spoilers ahead.

12/31/2001. The attack on the Kashmir restuarant.

I was a young kid when I first arrived in Rapture. I was naïve like many others. Many of used to believe in Andrew Ryan’s so called, “Great Chain”, until things started to fall apart. Especially after the death of scumbag Frank Fontaine. I find it funny he tried to put on a nice guy act whenever he met someone new or when he was in public, but I’ve heard the stories. The stories of the type of man he was.

But after Ryan nationalized Fontaine Futuristics in January 1999, a lot of people weren’t happy. It was surprising how long it took something to happen. So much dividing of social classes, so much shit that had happened during those years. What was gonna happen tonight would change everything forever...

I’ve been on Atlas’s crew of bandits since July. I felt joining Atlas was the best decision I made in my entire life. Because I felt I fighting for the right thing, a good cause. But what Atlas had planned sounded to me almost like terrorism.

Yet when I thought about it, I really thought hard to myself. After everything we’ve suffered, how Ryan started to push everyone away, how he tried keep himself in power. Even though Rapture was supposed to be the perfect paradise...Andrew Ryan, Brigid Tenenbaum, Augustus Sinclair, Sander Cohen, Yi Suchong, Sofia Lamb, and so many others...how they treated us.

First it was just riots, but now it was time for Ryan and everyone who supported him knew what we were. What we stood for. They were gonna find out we weren’t some bandits who kidnapped some rich assholes to get payback or robin hood archetypes helping poor folks.

There was no more talk for peace. Because Ryan never gave a damn...he never did.

1/31/2002. The Civil War starting. Apollo Square. Atlas and crew.

It’s been a month since we launched an attack on Kashmir. Things started to really change because the war for this city finally had truly begun. I have never been in war, but with the skills I’ve learned from Atlas and Daisy. I’d felt I was ready, because I needed to be. Not many of us were actual soldiers. But that didn’t matter to us. We knew what had to be done.

But we didn’t knew that Ryan would try to make Apollo Square a prison camp. Yet that didn’t matter, when those so called security officers first started to set people ablaze when they tried escaping. We shot any who would tried to do such things again. When they were hanging people, we fought back because we got tired of their bullshit. We didn’t fuck around. I felt proud when I shot one of those damn officers in the head.

Apollo Square was practically our paradise. Sure Ryan’s army kept trying to get in, yet we always defended it. Yet even without Ryan, we still had others to worry about.

I feel pretty damn grateful a lot of our weapons were smuggled from the surface. We kept some of the weapons Ryan’s men had as well.

But I think what I felt more grateful was our leaders. Daisy Fitzroy was practically Atlas’s 2nd in command. She was a tough woman, she didn’t take shit. Considering she worked for that weird kinky lady known as Ava Tate, I can’t blame her becoming that. She’s one of the bravest and smartest women I’ve fought with. I’m surprised she didn’t form our rebellion first.

Bill was lucky enough to be convinced by Atlas to join us after he resigned from the council. But Bill was like us. Even though he believed in Rapture, he was just an old man who wanted the best for people. I found that admirable of him. I also think he’s grateful we hid his ass after he left Ryan. Considering how Ryan gets upset with whoever betrays him, he’d rather want them dead...yet that might of been different considering he was best friends with Ryan himself.

Diane was new, she was a hostage once with Julie Langford. But when Ryan never paid her ransom and practically didn’t care for her. But I do think she noticed those Jasmine Jolene posters throughout the city, making Ryan’s betrayal seemingly more worse. She originally came to Apollo Square to yell at us of how we possibly ruined her life. But when she saw the shit we were going through, she soon understood even more of the situation. Especially when we heard it wasn’t made better when hearing Ryan’s thoughts on people like us.

She joined us rather quickly, she was like Bill in a way. Diane was honestly a kind woman, it always felt nice to have more supporters. I do find it surprising from what I’ve seen that her and Daisy seemed to have developed a thing. Yet I found it surprisingly adorable...mainly because it was so strange to see Daisy seem soft to another person. But I think it gave the ladies more of a reason to keep fighting on.

But Atlas...he was something else. There was a reason people followed him. I followed him for plenty of good reasons. He seemed like a action hero you see out of those films from Hollywood. But I have never met a man so kind, yet so humble. He was the best of us...or that’s what I thought. You can have a good laugh with him too while having a drink. The man had a family, but he didn’t spoke of them much to keep them safe. I also remember hearing he was a captain in the Irish army. Which gave us an advantage in some ways over Ryan’s men.

He was the perfect anti-thesis to Andrew Ryan. Atlas was someone many genuinely respected and loved. Men wanted to be him, women loved him. To me and others. He wasn’t just a friend. Atlas was sometimes like a brother, or even a father.

Sure he wasn’t perfect and did some questionable things. But we knew it was for the best. Atlas is our best shot at winning this war. And I’m proud to fighting side by side with him, no matter what.

2/1/2002. Johnny Topside.

I never met the man, but Atlas knew him only for a year. The way he talked about Johnny. I’ve heard stories of him, well that’s because Atlas didn’t want his memory to die. Atlas said Johnny Topside was a diver who had discovered Rapture years ago and for sometime was forced to live in Rapture until he finally had enough.

Johnny Topside was the start of our rebellion. He was the one that planted the seeds. Johnny was the first to stand up to Ryan, but it resulted in tragedy. No one knows fully what happened to him. But Atlas said Ryan had tried to erase Johnny’s memory from history, and that it was very likely he may of been turned into...a Big Daddy...the idea of that horrifies me.

When Atlas spoke of him, he spoke of him so highly. Saying that Johnny was like a younger brother to him. You could of even seen at times Atlas nearly choked up when talking about him. I can’t blame him, losing someone that was like a brother to him. I’ve would of been nearly tearing up.

The story of Johnny Topside was something that kept us going, it inspired us. Hell, it even inspired me. Atlas didn’t want his memory to die, because what he was doing wasn’t just for everyone. But it was also justice for Johnny...justice for everyone that had enough of Ryan.

My only disappointment is that I never got to meet Johnny...because when Atlas says he’d would rather had him lead us...that says a helluva lot about Topside.

2/3/2002. Booker Dewitt and Ryan’s personal guard.

I’ve heard the stories of Dewitt...he merely sounded like a ghost. But he wasn’t. This was the man that shot down Fontaine, and most likely helped captured Johnny Topside.

Captain Dewitt was known to the citizens as, “The Grim Reaper Of Rapture” and he damn well earned it. But he was also Ryan’s new best friend after Bill left. Dewitt kept Ryan’s enemies in check. Whether by killing them when no one was looking, or capturing them.

Security was fine, but Ryan’s personal guard and when Dewitt was leading them...that was scary. I think what scared us rebels was whenever he showed up. He always wore that mask...which gave him more of a reason to call him a grim reaper...because he damn sure was.

Ryan’s personal guard weren’t just police officers enforcing Ryan’s rule, they were literal soldiers. They were formed when Johnny Topside had discovered Rapture. The guard was basically a better version of security.

They were made up of men who either genuinely believed in the, “Great Chain” or just were looking to be paid by Ryan. Some of them were ex soldiers, mercenaries, and they were all just horrible people.

The guard weren’t pushovers, they had years of experience or training by Dewitt. They were merciless, brutal, and effective. The fact Ryan had now decided to use them even more now showcased he truly wasn’t fucking around anymore. He wanted to win this war. But we weren’t gonna let that happen.

I think we were just thankful they didn’t really use Plasmids...if they did...then I felt this war may be over already. But it also gives us a easier chance to kill them all.

2/15/2002. Splicers.

Over the years since ADAM was discovered. Splicers became thing. Poor folks who used too spliced too much...they were once people...but they were sadly monsters now. I think what surprised us is how some of them were on our side...but not many. Unless they controlled themselves.

The Splicers of many types were a pain in the ass for Ryan and Atlas. Killing the rebels or Ryan’s personal guard. They had no allegiance...all they wanted was ADAM...they were basically drug addicts. I remember seeing one time a woman shanking a man for his ADAM, we had to put her down.

I didn’t really use Plasmids much, or some of the others like Atlas, Daisy, Diane, and Bill. It seemed good for Atlas that some of the rebels didn’t try to splice up. Which meant we can deal with less people turning into those...things.

There was one time I had to put down one of them. The man was just 21, but he had spliced up so much that he had gone insane. He tried attacking Daisy and Diane, but me and Daisy took him down shot him in the chest. But he was still breathing.

...I shot him in the head...I hesitated at first for about five seconds...he was younger than me. I wanted to make his death as quick and painless...it gave me a haunting reminder of why we were still fighting. All this pain and suffering...it started with the discover of that damn thing called ADAM...

I’m surprised I haven’t spoken about Tenenbaum yet...I feel like she was 2nd in place for me to kill after Ryan.

3/15/2002. Big Daddies, Little Sisters, and Brigid Tenenbaum.

I think the other thing that haunts me a lot and so many others is these two...I’ve seen them countless times and I have fought them when I joined Atlas.

Big Daddies are practically these...monsters that used to be people...slaves to protect what were once literal children...

These monsters looked like literal giant diving suits at times...some had drills, some had guns. They were tough sons of bitches. These things could kill a man easily, or even a group of a men if you weren’t careful.

But it’s the Little Sisters that horrify me and other rebels...not because they are dangerous or that they are killers. It’s the fact of what they are. They were children...or possibly still are...forced to collect ADAM because they were implanted with some...damn sea slug Tenenbaum discovered...

There is no known cure for them. I think many of us want a cure. But the only way to help these girls is something horrific...harvesting them. Atlas said it was to put them out of their misery. They had ADAM in them.

From what I’ve seen, some rebels harvested them, some didn’t. Daisy didn’t do it. Neither did Diane or Bill. I remember seeing Atlas making the most sickened face after harvesting one, he didn’t enjoy it at all.

I think it may of bothered Atlas some didn’t harvest them...but it’s understandable why some wouldn’t. Because I remember seeing one 37 year old man, after he had harvested just one Little Sister. The man about 5 minutes later literally put a pistol under his jaw and killed himself.

We all understood why he even did that. Because after you witness a child being horrified by you about to harvest them...it’s a sight you’re never going to forget.

I can still hear those girls screaming. Daisy and Diane do too...it’s in our nightmares. For some reason...the harvesting of a Little Sister scars me than seeing a Splicer or whatever else...I don’t know why...I think it’s because all that innocence was lost...or actually taken. Because there was no other way to help them.

It was all because of one woman, Brigid Tenenbaum. I heard she worked with Frank Fontaine to help make those girls into what they are. I’ve heard she’s had a hard life, but that doesn’t excuse what I find one of the most horrific crimes I’ve ever seen. She’s been in hiding for 4 years after being exposed for what she did.

If we ever find Tenenbaum...I want to put my foot on her throat...whatever what we want to do to her. To be honest, I think I want to kill her more than Ryan...because I don’t know how you can be forgiven for doing that to a child.

God forgives, and whenever I have to put down a fellow rebel because they spliced up too much, I make it quick and painless as possible...but Tenenbaum...quick and painless is not gonna mean anything if we ever find her.

6/3/2002. SOS and Archie Wynand.

After six months of war with Ryan’s personal guard and the Splicers. Whether some were controlled or not...things were going south for us. We fought hard, we planned as best as we could. But nothing was working, because Ryan was nearly winning.

There was panic among us, we were fearing that all of this could be for nothing. But Atlas revealed something, which he said was a risk in case. He somehow gave an SOS message to the surface to whoever would get it. Because he knew we weren’t gonna win this on our own anymore. We needed help, we needed the surface to discover Rapture. But also, we needed someone to help us take down Ryan. It was on Sunday Atlas gave out the message for help. We prayed someone would answer it. Luckily for us, someone did answer it.

Despite his aircraft was shot down by Ryan, and being the only survivor of his squad. Someone had arrived. That someone was a young man named Sergeant Archie Wynand. An Army Ranger sent by the US Government to discover where the SOS came from.

To be honest, I was worried by the fact only one man had survived. I’d feared we still didn’t stand a chance. But after I saw that man enter combat and killed so many Splicers, I have never seen a man fought hard like that. He was still young like me, but he was like a commando in his way. It was as if someone like Atlas again had come to save us.

Me and him never really talked, but from what I’ve seen. That man is the bravest soul I’ve ever seen. He’s loyal to a fault and unbreakable, it was like seeing a warrior unlike any other. I will admit, I felt a bit jealous when Atlas has giving him a lot more attention than me.

But Archie was important. Atlas sent him commands and he followed through. But I think what confused me the most was something Atlas had revealed earlier. Which resulted in ordering Archie to go to a certain building, a tower in the middle of Rapture.

6/4/2002. Elizabeth.

A day before Archie had arrived. There was this strange new information Atlas had discovered. That there was some girl in this tower in Rapture. Her name was Elizabeth. Atlas had discovered it when raiding a building near that tower.

We were so confused on why Ryan had a girl in this tower. In fact? Why was she there? Who was she really? Even Atlas was confused, but she seemed important.

But I feel our questions were answered when Archie saved her. I didn’t get to talk to her personally, but I have seen her in action with my own eyes. Along with some footage.

Somehow, this young girl had some powers of an unknown source. She was able to summon old sentries, and other things. It felt unnatural. Sure the Plasmids and other discoveries in Rapture were very special...but what this girl could do...it made us question even more who the hell she was and why Ryan had her locked away.

Gonna admit though, she was honestly adorable.

6/5/2002. Elizabeth’s purpose, and what the Hell is Archie? What the Hell is going on?

I think it horrified me and the rebels of what Elizabeth was supposed to be. Why she was kept secret from Rapture. What Atlas had discovered more is that she was secretly a weapon Ryan would use in case against someone like us. A sleeper agent that would of slipped through our ranks or anyone else...almost like a female fatale Ryan wanted to make personally...it confused me because from what I’ve seen, she’s nothing like that.

But I think we surprised us more is that she had been in Rapture since 1983. For about 19 years, Ryan had her in there, with hardly anyone knowing. I think it sickened me a bit more hearing Ryan was gonna use a young woman as a secret weapon in case someone like Atlas came along. It was almost like what happened with the Little Sisters.

Yet the other thing that’s been on my mind is Archie. I’ve talked about how much of a warrior he was. Ever since he rescued Elizabeth, she’s been by his side ever since. I haven’t seen such a effective team. It was like they were perfect for each other.

But again, it’s Archie that has me thinking. Sure he’s a soldier...but compared to any of us...and even compared to Ryan’s personal guard. I have never seen a man be so efficient in what he does. This was a young man, yet he fought like he was like some sort of super soldier. Hell, I don’t even think Atlas and Daisy are that efficient. He’s fast and strong.

He was also using so many Plasmids without mutating. I couldn’t get it? He wasn’t becoming spliced up. I couldn’t believe it? I had lost count of how many times he injected a Eve Hypo into his wrists.

I think the scary part is how many Big Daddies he’s killed...how can one man kill so many. I didn’t understand it? But from what I’ve seen from footage is...him curing the Little Sisters...I couldn’t believe it.

Where were he and Elizabeth staying at? I heard Atlas yesterday say they were at Tenenbaum’s...I couldn’t understand...I’m confused...

6/5/2002 A bigger Big Daddy.

I didn’t understand nor could I comprehend what I had witnessed. Ever since Archie arrived...things were changing. What made me think this way was when I saw...something I didn’t think was possible.

Out of all the Big Daddies we’ve killed. I had never seen one so big. He was about 12 feet tell...he looked older than any of the Big Daddies. He looked similar to the Alpha series Big Daddies...I couldn’t understand. I was lucky to have lived, but I witness it killed so many rebels, Splicers, and Ryan’s army. This Big Daddy was vicious. It seemed like he was on a mission. As if he was tracking down Elizabeth.

I’m just in disbelief...I don’t understand.

I was a witness also to see Elizabeth teleport it somewhere...I think it’s dead...I’m not sure.

6/6/2002. The war soon coming to an end.

To be honest, I was fearing we may never win. But somehow we made it. Captain Dewitt was beaten yesterday, and now Ryan is soon to be dealt with.

I’ve learned from Atlas that Tenenbaum had created a cure for the Little Sisters...I couldn’t believe it when I heard it. I asked him again if he was telling the truth, and he was. That’s why Archie and Elizabeth were staying with Tenenbaum somewhere.

It still sounded so crazy. But the next piece of news is that these three would be coming to Atlas’s headquarters, our base of operations. I couldn’t believe I was seeing Tenenbaum...I had...weird feelings.

The plans were while Archie and others went to Ryan’s office to finally take him down. There was hardly anyone left to defend him. While Elizabeth and Dr. Tenenbaum stayed at Atlas’s headquarters. It...an experience meeting this young girl...even after everything she’d been through, but so kind.

But I wasn’t gonna be staying for long either like Archie. Atlas sent me and some men to take over Fort Folic considering Archie and Elizabeth’s recent visit there. As if the freak that was Sander Cohen had finally left somewhere. It was no longer locked up.

I felt genuine hope for the first time. As if this whole nightmare will finally end. But I will admit, I wanted to kill Ryan as much as anybody else. I had my orders, and I listened. Besides, taking back Fort Folic was a huge win

I do recall Ryan playing golf at times. Hopefully when Archie gets to his office, he’ll beat the Walt Disney lookalike of a fuckhead with his own golf club. It’s what Ryan deserved...it’s what many of us wanted.

6/7/2002. Atlas...and the end...

...I don’t even know what to say...the war is over...it’s actually over...

But it didn’t end with Ryan dying or getting captured...

Atlas...our leader...my hero...my best friend...the anti-thesis to Ryan...was Frank Fontaine.

He’s dead...he was brutally hung...by Archie...his corpse is hanging for everyone to see...he...looks like half of a monster.

Everything we’ve done...everything we stood for...I feel betrayed, but I feel relived. I think others are feeling a similar way...I need no I want answers...

6/8/2002. The birth of the Vox Populi. Tenenbaum discovering these journals.

I think what happened on Thursday and Friday...changed so many of us...even myself...I thank Daisy and Diane for explaining it to me.

There was a huge meeting with the remaining rebels. Archie, Elizabeth, and Dr. Tenenbaum joined in as well. So many discussions were had. Rapture was finally ours...

While Splicers were still a thing, and some rich assholes were still around. Considering half of the city was still going, but we came together to formulate a plan.

There won’t be another Andrew Ryan, or even another Frank Fontaine. The end of the Rapture Civil War was only the beginning of something much better.

We weren’t just called rebels anymore, we were officially given a name now. The Vox Populi. It was Daisy’s idea for the name. We were basically the reformed version of Atlas’s rebellion. But now, we had genuine people who actually gave a damn. Who wouldn’t use us as puppets. That we will strive for a better tomorrow.

For peace, a better community. So we can help out every Little Sister we can find out there, and help whoever else is in Rapture. We’re gonna make this shithole of a city a better living place. No more tyrants, no more conmen, no more rulers, just people wanting to make this place a better place for everyone.

Justice, peace, and all that...I think many of us are still getting over what happened with Atlas...I’m still getting used to it...I’m just grateful it’s over.

But before this the huge meeting, Dr. Tenenbaum discovered my journals...she read what I wrote about her...our struggles. I apologized to her, but she said it’s okay. She said she doesn’t blame me for being angry. I think what surprised me more was the one person that her the most was herself...

For some odd reason, I forgave her...she just stared at me with surprise. She gave me a small smile...and then I said I think I could forgive her after everything she’s tried doing to fix her mistakes. Because I told her trying to fix your mistakes is better than doing nothing.

#bioshock rebirth #derek grady

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hysterialevi · 4 years ago

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His Name Was Isaac - Ch. 12

Fanfic summary: During a mission to avenge his mother’s death, Isaac hunts down the men responsible for her murder and kills them off one-by-one, only to discover that his last target is taking refuge among the Van der Linde gang. In an attempt to kill them, Isaac attacks the gang and unknowingly becomes enemies with his own father, who is in the process of fighting his own battle for redemption.

Point of view: third-person

Previous chapter | Next chapter

This story is also on AO3

THAT EVENING

NEAR OWANJILA LAKE

“What do you mean Joe’s dead?” Dutch asked, his tone sounding more feral with every word.

“I mean Arthur killed him!” Bill reiterated. “Shot him right in the face when no one was looking.”

The other man glanced at Micah, watching as the man rested on a nearby bedroll.

“And Micah?” He asked.

“Isaac attacked him as soon as Joe was shot.” Bill explained. “Cut him straight through the eye. Micah nearly killed the boy after that. Almost drowned him in the river, but Arthur managed to pull him off. Gave him one hell of a beating. Then, he sent me back here.”

Dutch looked at him with bewilderment. “And you just left?”

Bill threw his hands in the air. “Well, what else was I supposed to do, Dutch? You know Arthur. That man’s a beast. You raised him, after all. As for his son, let’s just say the apple don’t fall far from the tree. He ain’t nearly as strong as his pa, but he’s goddamn crazy. I’d have been killed if I stuck around.”

Dutch sighed in frustration and turned away from Bill, annoyed at the dead-end he suddenly found himself facing.

He knew Arthur wouldn’t be easy to take down -- that was no surprise -- but the fact that he killed one of his men and nearly beat another to death sent Dutch into a state of panic.

If Micah, Bill, and Joe couldn’t bring Arthur back by themselves, what the hell were they supposed to do now? Their gang was short one man, and Micah was in no condition to be going after anybody at the moment.

Dutch would have to find Arthur himself. He may have been sick, and he may have been dying, but he knew that man better than any of these fools. He knew how Arthur thought.

It was going to take more work than he initially anticipated to bring that man down, but Dutch was sure he could do it.

He just needed more time.

“So?” Bill questioned. “Where do we go from here, Dutch?”

Dutch brought his focus back to Williamson, his cold eyes seemingly gazing straight through him.

“We wait. Now that the three of you have alerted Arthur, he and the boy are gonna have their guard up. So we’ll give ‘em some space to breathe for now. Let them think that we ain’t a threat no more. In the meantime, we’ll allow Micah to recover from his wounds, and think of a plan. We’re gonna need it. Men like Arthur don’t just give up.”

Bill offered no objections. “Yeah, well... neither do you, Dutch.”

The man nodded at that, patting Bill on the shoulder. “You’re goddamn right about that, son. I ain’t givin’ up anytime soon. And Arthur’s gonna learn what it means to betray our family. I just need you and Micah to be with me, and I need no more mistakes. Are we clear on that, Williamson?”

Bill was clearly still hesitant to go against someone like Arthur, but complied nonetheless.

“We’re clear, Dutch.”

“Good. Then if you’ll excuse me...” Dutch began strolling away, “...I have got some thinking to do.”

~~~~~~~~~~

MEANWHILE

DAKOTA RIVER, NORTH OF DIABLO RIDGE

Trudging along the rocky path, Arthur and Isaac rode side-by-side as they followed the current of the river, slowly making their way up to the Grizzlies West.

By now, the sky had transformed into a soft shade of purple and was highlighted with wispy streaks of orange clouds, painting a beautiful contrast above them.

There were no other silhouettes dotting the dark horizon or distant gunshots to fill the air, and so far, everything had gone smoothly ever since their violent encounter with the Van der Linde gang.

Unfortunately though, they still had one other problem to deal with.

And this one wasn’t so easily ignored.

Throwing a silent glance at his father, Isaac felt a tight sense of worry clutching his chest as he watched the man let out another chain of coughs, his breath growing more ragged with every outburst.

Arthur kept insisting that he was fine for the moment and showed no signs of deviating from their plan to head up north, but Isaac wasn’t sure that wandering into the cold was the best idea right now.

Every fiber in his being hated to admit it, but Isaac knew his father was dying. He recalled Micah mentioning something about Dutch being sick not too long ago, and Arthur’s symptoms didn’t seem that different from the old man’s.

Isaac really had no idea where else he could’ve gotten it from or what the illness could’ve been, but one thing was clear to the boy.

Sooner or later... he was going to lose Arthur.

The outlaw was going to disappear from his life faster than he jumped back into it, and it made Isaac want to scream at the world for taking yet another one of his parents.

He had just started the process of finally moving on from Eliza’s death, and now, it was as if things had been reset.

Isaac was witnessing the death of his father now -- same as before -- only this time, it was going to be far more painful, and far more drawn out.

Why was the world doing this to him?

“...It ain’t polite to stare, boy.” Arthur remarked gruffly, causing Isaac to avert his eyes.

“...Sorry.” He replied, his tone firm with anger. “I just... well, never mind.”

The kid didn’t even have to explain what was on his mind. Arthur could already tell.

“Don’t you go givin’ up on me yet, Isaac.” He reminded. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere anytime soon. It’ll take more than a cough to scare me away.”

Isaac gazed at the lively river beside them, his eyes downcast in sorrow.

“I know you’re tough, Dad. You made that pretty clear when you beat Micah to a pulp...” the boy rubbed his neck in remembrance. “But will that be enough?”

Arthur sighed, not wanting to dwell on the subject any longer. “It’ll have to be.”

Falling into an uncomfortable silence, the two of them decided to leave the matter alone for now and trotted quietly down the road as the sky continued to darken above them, instilling a sense of fatigue in them.

Before either of them could go nodding off however, Arthur suddenly felt the need to bring up another topic that had been bothering him and turned to Isaac, hoping to comfort the boy somewhat.

“Hey, Isaac,” he called out, “about what happened earlier with Micah...”

The young man raised a brow. “Yeah?”

Arthur’s face sank with regret. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that. I know we was in a tough spot back there, and we didn’t really have much choice, but still... I shouldn’t have lost myself like that. Not in front of you. That ain’t the kinda man I want you to be.”

Isaac didn’t appear to share the man’s remorse. “Bastard had it comin’ to him. He betrayed your gang and nearly strangled me right after interrogating me. S’far as I’m concerned, Micah’s lucky he only got away with a wounded eye after all the shit he’s pulled.”

“Isaac!” Arthur scolded. “Look, I know that man’s rotten to the core. He’s always been a rat since he first joined our gang, but we’re better than that. You’re better than that.”

The boy scoffed. “Am I? I’ve robbed people. Killed ‘em. I poisoned an innocent man just so I could get revenge on some sorry fool who had already forgotten me by the time I found him again. From where I’m standing, I’m no more of a saint than any of the people we’ve fought.”

“Now you know that ain’t true.” Arthur replied. “We’ve all done bad things. Myself included. But you’ve got a kind heart, Isaac. That much is clear.”

Contrary to what the older man expected, that only seemed to annoy Isaac more.

“What good is a kind heart if it just gets everyone around you killed in the end? Micah may be rotten, but at least he knows how to survive. He knows it ain’t worth it tryin’ to get close with people. I wish I knew better.”

The other man blinked in confusion. “What’re you talkin’ about? Survival’s fine and dandy, but there’s more to it, Isaac. You gotta have a reason to survive. And if you don’t have anyone to care about, well then, frankly I don’t see a reason.”

Isaac scowled at that. “Yeah, you wouldn’t.”

Arthur found himself at a loss for words. “What’s gotten into you? One minute you’re askin’ me if we should kill Micah for everything he’s done, and the next, you’re sayin’ you wish you were more like him? That ain’t like you.”

Isaac shook his head in irritation. “How would you even know what ‘I ain’t like?’ We were practically strangers when I was a kid. You was always runnin’ off with some gang, or doing a job that was more important than us. You don’t know the first thing about me. I’ve had horses in my life longer than I’ve had you.”

The older man stopped in his tracks at that and lowered his voice, glaring directly at Isaac.

“...Watch your mouth, boy.” He warned sternly. “Now listen, I don’t know what the hell’s goin’ on with you today, Isaac, but you better shape up. I know we’re both still stressed from the fight this morning, but we are tryin’ to survive out here, and the last thing I need is for you to be pushin’ against me like this. So get your head straight or I’ll straighten it for you. You hear me?”

Isaac hardly seemed fazed by Arthur’s words and simply tapped his horse’s reins, walking ahead of the other man.

“Yeah. Sure.”

Watching Isaac solemnly trot further down the trail, Arthur decided to put some space between them for now and followed the young man from behind, confused as to why he was acting like this all of the sudden.

It was obvious Isaac was upset about something, but what? He seemed perfectly fine this morning, even after their fight with the Van der Lindes, and Arthur knew it took more than a beating to get Isaac’s spirits down. So what was going on with him?

Perhaps all the memories of his childhood were just starting to come back? Because as annoyed as Arthur was with the boy right now, he couldn’t deny that Isaac had a point.

He was hardly ever around when that man was still a child. He made an effort to be near him every few months or so, but Isaac never had a reliable father figure growing up. Hell, the closest thing to a father he had back then was Shay... and he hated him.

Maybe Isaac still hadn’t quite forgiven Arthur for being absent all those years. He could act tough all he wanted, but the older man knew how much that boy really cared about his family. So it was no surprise to him that Isaac would be standoffish about losing him. Arthur just didn’t understand why these feelings were coming up now.

He supposed Isaac would tell him when he was ready. If that kid was anything like his father, then Arthur assumed he wouldn’t appreciate being pushed to open up about certain things.

Still, Arthur couldn’t deny that he was worried. This was the only chance he had to do right by his son, and so far, it seemed like everything was going wrong.

He just hoped he wasn’t pushing the kid away. Being a father was turning out to be much more daunting than he expected, and the last thing Arthur wanted to do was guide his son down the same path that he took.

Isaac had the potential to be more than that. He just couldn’t see it.

~~~~~~~~~~

ONE HOUR LATER

WEST OF WALLACE STATION

Sitting on a short stump, Arthur gazed out at the sea of trees dominating the horizon as a bundle of stars began to light up above them, giving the sky a soft, pale glow.

At the moment, he was drawing in a new journal that he had purchased at Wallace Station and was working on a sketch of the landscape, hoping to escape his worries for the time being.

Meanwhile, Isaac got some rest next to the campfire and slept on a bedroll, allowing his incessant dreams to carry him away as Aldo stood protectively nearby.

The two of them hadn’t said a word to each other ever since their little spat earlier, and were taking some time apart from one another. The boy appeared to be just as irritated as before, and Arthur -- being the inquisitive man that he was -- couldn’t stop wondering what it was that he did to make Isaac so upset.

He let out a sigh and began scribbling some words next to his drawing, trying to get his thoughts in order.

“Oh, Hosea... I certainly wish you was here right now. You wouldn’t believe what’s happened in the past few days. You remember Eliza? That waitress I used to be with all them years ago? Well, I found our son again. I found Isaac. Turns out he’s still alive, and he seems to be doing okay, if a bit troubled. I think you’d like him.”

“Problem is, I don’t know the first thing about being a parent. That’s why I wish you was still around. You and Dutch -- the two of you always seemed to know what to do with me. It felt like you always had the answers.”

“But me... it seems like with every attempt I make to protect the boy, the worse things get. We got Pinkertons chasing us down, the Van der Lindes trying to kill us around every corner, and I’ve started to develop this cough that won’t go away. I think I’m getting sick, just like Dutch.”

Arthur set his pencil down and dragged a hand down his face, taking a breath before continuing to write.

“What the hell am I going to do? I love Isaac more than life itself, but... things are getting heated between us. I think the boy’s angry at me. He’s started pushing me away all of the sudden, and the worst part is, I can’t even say he’s fully unjustified. I know I didn’t do right by him as a kid. I was always too occupied with our gang that I left Isaac alone. I wasn’t there when he needed me.”

“But I don’t plan on making the same mistake twice. Even if Isaac comes out of this hating me, I still want to be the father he deserves. I want to be the father that you were to me, Hosea.”

“I just wish I knew where to begin.”

Shutting his journal closed, Arthur decided to call it a day and stood up from the stump, rolling his shoulders as he strolled back to the campfire.

It looked like Isaac was out cold for the night and didn’t even twitch when Arthur stepped near him, but even then, the older man could see the grip of a revolver poking out from underneath his hand.

Part of him wanted to wake the young man up and set things straight between them, but Arthur knew he’d probably just end up aggravating Isaac even more if he did that.

So, instead, he simply made his way over to his own bedroll and tried to get some shut-eye, preparing himself for the long road ahead.

Tomorrow would be the start of the toughest part of their journey, and if things went according to schedule, Arthur expected they’d be wandering into the colder regions of Ambarino before long.

He wasn’t eager to go back into the snowy mountains that killed Jenny and Davy, but if they could cross the border, then they’d finally be free men.

The goal of their journey was drawing near, and now more than ever, Arthur was fervent in protecting Isaac. He may not’ve had much time left in this world, but he was going to see to it that the boy made it out okay.

If anything happened to Isaac, well... Arthur didn’t know what he’d do.

That kid was everything to him now, and he suspected he wouldn’t be able to bear it if he lost him a second time.

He’d never forgive himself, and neither would Eliza.

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr #arthur morgan #isaac morgan #dutch van der linde #bill williamson #rdr2 story #rdr2 fanfic

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anubislover · 5 years ago

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Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya chapter 11: Dinner with Dr. Heart Stealer

As the clock struck seven, Nami critiqued her outfit in the mirror; a strapless little black dress that hugged her curves like a glove, gold stiletto heels, black thigh-high stockings, and the tourmaline jewelry she’d bought from the seller in Tokken. She even used the hairpins Law had gotten her to clip back the left side of her hair. She finished off the look with some dark red lipstick and gold smokey eyeshadow, giving herself an elegant but sensual look.

“Getting all dressed up for the captain?” Ikkaku teased from her bed. The engineer was thumbing through the romance novel she’d caught Nami with, and though it wasn’t her usual thing, had decided to give it a shot. After all, it had managed to entrance the usually energetic navigator for hours, and she had some time to kill before Ladies Night.

Brushing some gold highlighter over her cheekbones, Nami scoffed. “Please, I’m getting dressed up for you. Law’s just a lucky bastard who benefits due to scheduling.”

“I’m flattered,” she said with a wink. “Though I’ll understand if you ditch me to take him back to the nearest inn so he can rock your world. I mean, I won’t be happy, but I’ll understand.”

“Ok, I gotta ask—have you ever slept with Law? Because you’re always vouching for his sexual prowess…”

Ikkaku immediately made fake gagging sounds. “Oh, hell no! That’d be like fucking one of my brothers! But I have talked to some of his past lovers, and they all seemed pretty damn satisfied. Something a girl like you deserves to be.”

Hip jutting out and eyebrow raised in challenge, Nami replied, “How do you know they aren’t lying? Maybe he’s terrible in bed but they’re all too scared to speak ill of the Surgeon of Death, especially to one of his fearsome subordinates.”

The grin said subordinate graced her with was nothing short of salacious. “Because if he were bad, Drake wouldn’t keep coming back for more, even though Law pisses him off so much.”

Nami bit her lip to hide her grin. “Ok, fair point. Also, I want the inside scoop on that relationship.”

“If Law doesn’t give you the dirty details himself, I’ll happily fill you in,” she replied, sniggering. “Bet they’ll give you better fantasies than whatever’s in your books!”

Pink rose to the redhead’s cheeks as her eyes briefly darted to the space under her bed. Nami had shoved Ikkaku’s scandalous box to the very back corner to hopefully never see the light of day again. She dared not throw them out; she doubted Ikkaku would take kindly to it, and knowing her, would probably present her with something even more embarrassing in retaliation. “By the way, as much as I hate your stupid ‘gift’, thanks for not spilling that to everyone. At least, not directly.”

“I thought about it but figured the sex toys would be just as funny without the guys prying into your hobbies. Most of them have enough tact to keep them from teasing you about a dildo, but I doubt they’d show the same restraint if they found out you were into erotic novels.”

“You just want to lord my guilty pleasure over me, don’t you?”

“How’d you know?”

“I have a sister, remember?”

“Ha! Good point. I’m guessing she teases you about this stuff?” she asked, pointing to the book.

Chocolate eyes rolled in exasperated fondness as she played with her bracelet. “All the time. It was annoying, but I guess I appreciated it, in a way. It was one of the more normal things we could talk about, given how screwed up our situation was.”

“Because of the pirates holding your town hostage?”

“Yeah,” she replied, debating on whether she should elaborate. Finally, she added, “I was kind of an outcast among the townsfolk because I made sea charts for the captain. My sister was the only one who knew it was against my will, and that I had made a deal to raise money to buy the village back. Or at least, they all pretended not to know so if I ever decided to give up and run away, I wouldn’t feel guilty.”

“You know, I’m beginning to understand why you have so many trust issues,” Ikkaku quipped, though her eyes were sympathetic.

“Believe me, it was way worse before Luffy came into my life. If we’d met a year ago, I would have already betrayed you and stolen the ship and all the treasure on board.”

“You could try, but the Boss would kill you. He loves this ship and he does not take threats to his crew lightly.”

“I’ve noticed,” Nami deadpanned, adjusting her bodice. It was a sweetheart neckline, which nicely accented her generous bust, had enough support to keep her from spilling out. Such a thing was extremely necessary, given the low back of the dress. Not long ago, she would have been nervous wearing something so daring around Law, but she was still leaning on the theory that he had a weird fetish for modest clothing. If she was right, showing this much skin would act as a repellant.

“He wasn’t too rough with you, was he?” Ikkaku asked, genuinely concerned. “I mean, he can get intense—”

“Oh, he was absolutely terrifying, and I’m pretty sure he was ready to start removing body parts if I hadn’t been having a panic attack, but honestly? I’d still choose him over Arlong.”

Before Ikkaku could ask any questions, there was a firm knock on the door. Grabbing her new purse and slipping into a leopard print, fur-trimmed coat, Nami nodded at her roommate. “Promise me a 9pm rescue?”

“Hmmm, only if I don’t get too caught up in this book,” she teased, cracking it open. “I mean, you did say there was some pretty intense eye contact to look forward to.”

Blushing, she shot back, “You laugh, but chemistry like that can be more intense than any make-out scene.”

“Says the virgin.”

Choosing to ignore the jab, Nami yanked open the door and was met by Law’s cocky smirk. To her surprise, he wore a tailored white suit with a black dress shirt, which brought out that extra little bit of olive in his skin tone. His polished black dress shoes gleamed as brightly as his earrings and the thick, gold chain around his neck. A heady, musky scent tempted Nami’s nose, and she realized Law’d chosen to wear some kind of cologne. Oddly enough, his white fur hat and tattoos didn’t seem as out of place as when he’d dressed up on Tokken Island; perhaps it was because this wasn’t a disguise, or the color was just far more complimentary to his trademark accessories. He looked slick and dangerous, but also at ease—a criminal on a night off.

Damn it, he looked even better than he had at the gala.

Leaning against the doorframe, Law’s grin widened at her perusal. “Do I pass inspection, Nami-ya?” he purred, giving her his own approving once-over.

Gold eyes locked with hazelnut as Nami cocked her hip. “Considering how you haven’t told me where we’re going, it’s a bit hard to judge. For all I know, you’re underdressed.”

“We’re going to a jazz club I frequent, so even if I showed up in jeans, they’d let me in—especially if I have a beautiful woman on my arm.”

“Flatter all you like, Law—you’re not getting out of footing the bill.”

Never breaking eye contact, he gave a little mock bow. “Of course not. A gentleman always treats on the first date.”

“I don’t know you’re more wrong about; that you think this is a date, that there’ll be more than one, or that you’re anything even close to a gentleman.”

“I think I proved myself at the gala. I was on my best behavior, wasn’t I?”

“Maybe in public, but the second we were alone, you went right back to being a bastard.”

A low whistle interrupted their banter, and Nami turned to see Ikkaku wiggling her eyebrows suggestively as she meaningfully glanced between them. “You know what, Nami? You may have a point with that ‘intense eye contact’ thing.”

Cheeks inflamed, Nami grabbed Law by the arm and dragged him down the hallway before Ikkaku could say anything else. As she felt the captain’s intense gaze burning into the back of her head, she silently wondered if a free dinner was worth it.

XXX

The outside of the jazz club was far from impressive—in fact, the entrance was a nondescript wooden door against a plain brick wall, its only ornamentation a faded bronze knocker and a number “8” nailed at the top. Nami was positive she would have walked straight past if Law hadn’t led her to it, pausing to quickly rap three times with his knuckles, then four with the knocker.

After a moment, the door opened, and they were greeted by a young woman dressed in a short skirt and tailored red vest. “Captain Trafalgar. So glad you could join us tonight.”

Law gave a lazy, familiar grin as he wrapped his arm around Nami’s waist. “Always a pleasure, Akari. Is my usual booth ready?”

“Of course, sir,” she replied, ushering them inside and leading them down a narrow, winding staircase.

As they stepped into the lounge, Nami’s eyes widened in surprise. The bland building façade hid a much more elaborate interior; everything from the bar to the floor to the wall panels were made of mahogany or cherry wood, with ruby red cushions, upholstery, and carpets. Red and gold lamps provided just enough light to see by while giving the place a sensual, mysterious ambiance.

At the far end of the room, low couches formed a semi-circle around the small dance floor in front of the stage, where various instruments and music stands awaited performers. Currently, the stage’s sole occupant was an older gentleman playing a soothing tune on the piano. There were a few larger tables scattered about, but most of the seating appeared to be small booths in the walls, their openings framed by red velvet curtains. Several were occupied by canoodling couples, and it didn’t escape Nami’s notice that a few even had the curtains drawn.

Akrai led them to an empty booth, and Law graciously helped Nami out of her coat, handing it to their hostess to hang up before sliding comfortably into his seat.

“Wow,” Nami said, taking it all in. Their seating arrangement was cozy but not claustrophobic, the velvet cushions that padded the crescent bench wonderfully plush. A gold lamp hung above the round table, allowing her to more easily peruse the embossed menu. Appetizers ranged from shrimp cocktail to deviled quail eggs, while entrees featured grilled seafood, roast duck, and steak. The drink list was extensive with an assortment of sparkling wines, cocktails, hard liquor, and even absinthe.

“I figured you’d approve,” Law replied smugly, lounging back in his seat. “And I told you I wasn’t underdressed.”

“I guess not. How’d you hear about this place?”

“It’s an establishment that first started in the North Blue—Prohibition Island decided it wanted to outlaw alcohol, among other ‘sinful’ things. The club’s owner was an entrepreneur from the West Blue, so she knew a thing or two about setting up businesses under the government’s nose. The original club became successful enough to branch out to other islands, and eventually made its way down the Grand Line.”

“I wouldn’t expect Grimm to ban alcohol,” Nami replied, brow furrowing in confusion. An archipelago that catered to pirates and other scum, which had a thriving black market and a brothel on every corner, but outlawed alcohol? The very idea was baffling.

Head shaking, Law chuckled, “Oh, it doesn’t, but Haiko-ya felt the atmosphere suited the clandestine aesthetic. This just happens to be a place where you can get quality booze and not worry about someone spiking your drink. She’s a criminal, but she has standards far higher than most of the island’s establishments.”

“You sound like you know her personally.”

He shrugged but gave a mysterious smile. “She’s Kimo-ya’s wife, actually. Considering all the business I do with her husband, she was happy to give me a lifetime VIP membership.”

A wave of paranoia sent a shiver down Nami’s spine. “What if she sells us out to Jinzo?”

“She won’t. She hates the man’s guts to an impressive extent. Hell, if she’s here tonight, she’ll probably give you special perks for ending up on his shit list.”

By that point, a young man in a red satin waistcoat appeared, smiling at the pair pleasantly. “Welcome back to Ruby 8, Captain Trafalgar. My name is Hansuke, and it’s my pleasure to serve you tonight. What can I get you to drink?” he asked, flipping open his notepad.

“I’ll have a neat whiskey,” Law said easily.

“A Sour Sunrise for me, please,” Nami said, pleased to find an orange juice-based cocktail. She flashed Law a catlike grin as she added, “And a bottle of your best champagne.”

“One glass or two?” the waiter asked, glancing at Law for confirmation.

“Two,” Law replied, smirking at Nami. “In fact, make sure there’s another bottle ready for when we finish the first one. We’re celebrating, after all, and I intend on giving my woman an unforgettable evening.”

“I’m not your woman,” she growled, but was ignored by both men.

“Of course, Captain Trafalgar,” Hansuke said with an eager nod. Men looking to impress were men who spent a lot of money, and if he did well, he might just earn himself a hefty tip. “Are you ready to order your meals as well, or do you need more time?”

“I know what I want,” said Law, barely glancing at the menu. “I’ll take the grilled salmon with the house salad.”

“I’ll have the orange duck, and can we also get a basket of rolls for the table, please?” Nami asked the waiter sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes for extra measure.

The young man nervously glanced between her and the scowling Supernova, clearly debating which one was better to please.

“I…let me check with the chef—I think he said something about running out,” he squeaked out before sprinting off.

“That was cruel of you, Nami-ya,” Law rumbled, fixing her with an annoyed glare, though sadistic humor twinkled in his eyes. “I told you, I’m a regular here. They know I despise bread and will decapitate anyone stupid enough to bring it to my table.”

With a huff, she crossed her long legs and flipped her hair haughtily. “Killing a waiter isn’t a great way to impress a girl and will definitely get you banned from any self-respecting restaurant—VIP or not.”

“I wouldn’t kill him—you forget, my powers allow me to cut a man to pieces and still keep him alive.”

“You should seriously still be banned.”

“They’ve served far worse patrons than me, and they know I’ll be on my best behavior and fill their pockets with plenty of belli so long as they don’t intentionally piss me off.” Lips turning up in an amused grin, he continued, “I’d say it’s a lesson you could stand to learn, sweetheart, but half the time I find your petty acts of defiance charming.”

“Does that include the sunburn I gave you?”

“No, though I did enjoy everything you did to distract me from it.”

The waiter returned to their booth with their drinks and a small tray of assorted meat and cheeses, smiling at Nami apologetically even as a drop of sweat trickled down his face. “I’m so sorry, miss, but it seems we’re out of bread this evening. Not so much as a crumb can be found. Please accept this complimentary charcuterie board with the house’s sincerest apologies.”

Annoying as it was that Law had the staff wrapped around his finger, she took pity on the poor man and gave an understanding smile. If the Surgeon of Death really was a regular at this place, she couldn’t blame him for not going along with her game. “Oh, this is just lovely! Thank you so much!”

Hansuke’s relief was palatable as he set down the tray and their drinks before running off to fetch the champagne.

“See? It’s things like this that keep me from getting too mad at you,” Law chuckled, popping a cube of cheese into his mouth. “I haven’t gotten a free appetizer since that time a new waiter insisted I’d ordered breadcrumbs on my salmon.”

“So, you tolerate me so long as I get you free stuff?” Nami quipped, taking a dainty bite of a slice of ham. It had a surprising fruity note and practically melted in her mouth. She’d have to tell Sanji about it. Hell, even Luffy might appreciate it, assuming he took the time to chew.

She swallowed a bit more harshly than she’d intended when Law leaned across the table, long fingers lightly stroking her elbow as he murmured, “I put up with your antics so long as you make it worth my while, Nami-ya. Keep that in mind next time you’re tempted to pull one of your little pranks.”

Despite pulling his hand away to pick up his drink, Nami could still feel tingling sparks dance across her skin. It really was ridiculous how a brush of his hand invoked that reaction. She was supposed to be more composed than that—a wily thief that didn’t mix business with pleasure—but while his overt come-ons could be annoying, his subtle touches and inviting glances still managed to tempt her. “Fine, but the fact that you’re willing to literally take someone’s head off over bread is way more childish than my ‘little pranks’,” she grumbled into her cocktail.

Whether Law heard her snarky comment or not, their conversation was briefly interrupted as the waiter appeared with the champagne, popping the cork and carefully pouring the bubbly liquid into a pair of elegant crystal flutes. “The sous chef has received your order and will of course be making it himself, Captain Trafalgar,” he said. “If you need anything else in the meantime, please, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thanks,” he said breezily, sipping his whiskey. “What time is the band scheduled to start up?”

“In less than a half-hour, sir. They’re currently on their dinner break, but I can ask—”

He waved him off. “I’m in no rush, and I’d rather they be at peak condition while performing. I don’t need my evening ruined because one of them fainted onstage from hunger.”

“Of course, sir. Regardless, I’ll inform them you’re in the audience. Anything else?”

“Time alone with my date would be ideal,” he replied in a clipped tone, raising an eyebrow meaningfully.

Nami could see the way the young man shivered at Law’s glare, and he skittered like a mouse back to the kitchen, wisely leaving the bottle behind.

“And you call me cruel,” she stated blandly as she savored another piece of ham.

“I’m all for attentive servers, but the constant sucking up was getting old.” Trying some of the meat for himself, he glanced at her appraisingly. “But enough about him. You’re a far more interesting subject.”

She frowned, brow furrowing suspiciously. “Am I?”

Linking his fingers and leaning his elbows on the table, he smirked. “Of course. Despite being on my ship for nearly three months, you’re still a mystery. A puzzle with so many missing pieces that I can’t yet visualize the total picture.”

“I could say the same about you,” she said, remembering the confusion she felt as he ran off the day before. “We’re both complex people who play their cards close to the chest.”

“That we are, but yesterday proved that a lack of communication between us can be detrimental to our working relationship, not to mention your health. I promise not to pry too much, and you don’t need to give me all the details, but I expect honest answers.”

Much as she wanted to argue, Penguin’s advice stopped her. The first mate was right; everyone had baggage, but how were people supposed to know her bugbears if she didn’t tell them? As worried as she was that a man like Law would be willing to exploit her weaknesses, he also had a point regarding how their communication issues had nearly gotten her killed. Even if it drudged up unpleasant memories, this was a necessary talk for the sake of side-stepping further unpleasantness. “Fine. I’ll open up—just a little—if you will.”

Resting his chin on his knuckles, Law took a minute to mull over his first question. “Tell me, Nami-ya, how’d you get the name ‘Cat Thief’, anyway? Rumor has it it’s been your moniker since well before the World Government issued your bounty.”

Taking a deep breath and a steadying swallow of her Sour Sunrise, she replied, “My…first captain was always comparing me to a kitten. Guess it was his way of praising me despite my species, since he saw humans as the lowest of the low.”

“Odd opinion.”

“Not for a Fishman.”

Leaning back against the plush velvet cushions, Law unlinked his fingers and munched on another piece of cheese. “Ah. A backhanded compliment. Better than a human, but still little more than a pet.”

“That about sums it up,” she said, pushing down the image of Arlong’s patronizing smile. God, some days she’d hated his condescending approval more than his disgusting hatred for her species. It made her feel dirty, being someone that a monster like him could admire.

Law rubbed his goatee thoughtfully. “No wonder you had such an extreme reaction to me calling you ‘kitten’. I’ll try to avoid it in the future. Still odd you’d adopt a feline signature, though.”

Shaking off her former captor’s vindictive smile, Nami shrugged, buying time before replying by nibbling on some cheese, even though she barely tasted it. “Guess it was a little out of spite; I wanted to take the word back and feel like I had just a shred of power. Didn’t really work, but it was still a good nickname for a thief.”

Perhaps he sensed her discomfort, but Law gently nudged the topic towards safer waters. “Fair. Shachi was the one who came up with ‘The Surgeon of Death’. Bit over-the-top, but I like it. Iconic, and definitely strikes fear into the hearts of my enemies.”

“Sounds like something from a comic book,” she scoffed as she finished her cocktail, moving on to the champagne. She knew she wouldn’t get drunk, but the bubbles tickling her palette would be a pleasant way to keep her mind from slipping into the past. Even without the meds in her system driving her towards panic attacks, she knew nothing good could come from dwelling too long on what Arlong had put her through.

“Like I said, it was Shachi’s idea. He was worried the Marines would give me something lame, so he and the crew went out of their way to mention it in every port we stopped in until they had no choice but to put it on my wanted poster.”

“I’m sure Drake had his own suggestions on what to call you.”

Law chuckled smugly, looking far too proud of himself. “Oh, I’m sure he did, but those posters are seen by the general public, so anything he’d propose would have to be censored. It’s probably why Eustass’ moniker is just ‘Captain’; either that or it’s a lame form of overcompensation.” His grin grew even more devious as he added, “First time we met, I deliberately acted like Killer was the captain, just to piss him off.”

Despite herself, Nami had to giggle. She’d only met Eustass Kid briefly, but he’d seemed the type to not take an insult lightly. With the highest bounty of the rookies, he was certainly someone she wouldn’t want to mess with. “You’re an asshole with a death wish, aren’t you?”

Law shrugged, knocking back the rest of his whiskey. The humor in his eyes dimmed. “Perhaps I do, just a little bit. I didn’t expect to live past the age of thirteen.”

“Why?” she asked curiously before she could catch herself. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Face cast in shadow by the brim of his hat, he tersely replied, “I was a sickly child. My father was the best doctor in the providence, but even he couldn’t come up with a cure. Didn’t help that the world believed it was a contagious disease, so we had no outside help. I only survived because of the Ope Ope no Mi.”

“Your father must have been happy about that, at least.”

“He was killed years before I got my hands on it.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.” Her heart clenched at the thought. A dead parent before the age of thirteen. Wasn’t that a painfully familiar story? “Well, I’m sure he’d still be happy you survived.”

He shrugged again, watching the bubbles in his champagne flute pop to avoid meeting her sympathetic gaze. “He’d be disappointed that I became a pirate instead of following in his footsteps.”

“Maybe, but I think he’d accept it so long as you’re alive and happy. Bellemere was a Marine, but while she wouldn’t approve of her daughter becoming a pirate, she’d support my decision because I’m free and working towards my dream of drawing a map of the world.”

As he finally looked at her, Nami caught Law’s lips briefly twitch upwards. “I suppose we’ll never know, but it’s a pleasant fantasy, at least.” He gave a mock toast. “To the parents who wanted better for us.”

With a wry smile, Nami clinked her glass to his, the pair gulping down the sparkling wine just as their food arrived. Digging into her meal, she appreciated both the delicious flavor of the duck and the blessed break in the heavy conversation eating allowed.

Talking to Law about her past was far different from Luffy. Nojiko had informed her before they left Cocoyashi that her stubborn captain had opted out of hearing her backstory when she’d offered to reveal it. At first, Nami’d been offended—what, had he thought her reasons for betraying the crew and faking Usopp’s death didn’t matter? But then she realized that, even without knowing who Arlong was or what he’d done to her and the villagers, Luffy had still gone after him.

All because that bastard had made his navigator cry.

As they’d sailed for Loguetown afterwards, Nami had pulled Luffy aside one night, sat him down, and told him everything. Not because he needed to know, but because a man like that was someone who deserved to know. Deserved to know the awful things she’d endured and done to survive. Why he’d found her mutilating her shoulder, cutting off that awful tattoo. Why she was so grateful he’d destroyed that room and all of the charts she’d toiled over for eight years. Why his refusal to give up on her had meant the world to the distrustful thief.

For his part, Luffy had listened quietly, occasionally nodding his head to show he was paying attention, an unusually patient and serious expression on his face. When she was finished, he’d clapped her shoulder, gave her that carefree, goofy grin, and simply said, “Now I’m really glad I punched that jerk!”

Law wasn’t like that. While he didn’t pry, he did ask questions, clearly seeking those missing puzzle pieces he spoke of and not taking her answers at face-value. Admittedly, they had been pretty bare-boned, but it highlighted the difference between the two captains—Law sought to understand because he didn’t fully trust her. Luffy didn’t need to understand, because he trusted her from the moment she’d refused to fire a cannonball at him.

Looking at Law’s nearly-finished plate, she had to suppress a giggle as another difference between him and Luffy hit her—his chewing habits might have left something to be desired, but at least he knew not to eat the fish’s skeleton.

Noticing his companion’s attention had returned to him, Law took a sip of champagne as he considered her. “You mentioned your ‘first captain’. I’m assuming this wasn’t Mugiwara?”

Nami sighed, setting down her fork to drink from her own glass, hoping the sharp beverage would wash away the foul taste talking more about Arlong would inevitably bring. “No. Before Luffy, I served as the cartographer for another pirate crew for eight years.” She deliberately didn’t mention she was an officer—it was easier for people to accept she was a prisoner when it didn’t sound like she was in a position of authority. Perhaps that was why Arlong had “promoted” her, even though she had no real power among the Fishmen. “He…his crew invaded my village when I was ten and made everyone pay for the right to live. Bellemere only had enough money to save her own life, or mine and Nojiko’s.”

“And, of course, she sacrificed herself to protect her children.” Law shook his head, and for a moment, Nami swore she saw a wince of pain, but the amber light made it hard to tell. “Eight years…I know captains who recruit kids so they can brainwash them into loyal subordinates, but he killed your mother. I doubt you joined him willingly, after something like that?”

“Believe me, I didn’t,” she growled. Hands shaking slightly, she instinctively grabbed her knife, holding it like the dagger she’d used to fake Usopp’s death and destroy her tattoo. “Working for my mother’s murderer was nothing short of torture. Day and night I drew maps for him until my hands bled, barely allowed to sleep or eat. And all the while he acted like he was doing me a favor, since cartography was what I loved most in the world.”

The word DEATH entered her field of vision as Law covered her trembling hand with his own. The warmth was comfortingly familiar at this point, and she felt her white-knuckled grip on the cutlery slacken. “Don’t worry; I do believe you,” he said softly, catching her gaze with his own. His expression was soft and concerned—similar to the way he’d looked at her last night in the infirmary. “You’ve shown yourself to be loyal to those you care about, and we’ve all done awful, painful things for the sake of survival. And I have to say, you may actually have a stronger will than me—I doubt I would have lasted a week serving the captain who murdered someone I held dear.”

“Yeah,” she said, breathing deeply, willing herself to calm down. Law’s thumb rubbing little circles across her knuckles was surprisingly helpful with that. It gave her something to focus on; to ground herself instead of letting the memories take over. Rough as the callouses from his swordsmanship and hard life at sea were, they were still so much smoother than the sandpaper-like skin of a shark Fishman. So blessedly human. “I guess…I guess you were right, though; if you’re not strong enough to protect yourself, you’re the property of someone who was strong enough to claim you.”

“I know I’m right, but I wish I weren’t. I’m assuming this first captain of yours has something to do with your dislike of my uniform?”

“You could say that.” She sighed, jerking her chin towards her left shoulder, the faint scars beneath her swirling tattoo barely visible in the dim light, but neither had to see them to know they were there. “One of the first things he did was have me branded with his Jolly Roger to make sure I couldn’t run off. So the whole world would know I was his property.”

Much like Penguin, Nami could see the dots connecting in Law’s mind. He’d recognized right away that the scars were self-inflicted, but now that he knew what had once been in their place, he could deduct why she’d caused herself such grievous harm. She felt his fingers tighten around her own, first in anger, before easing into a comforting squeeze. With forced calm, he said, “Considering how often Fishmen and Mermaids are sold as slaves, it was probably just as much a petty form of revenge. Still, I guess that explains your objection.” Frowning, he rubbed his forehead beneath his hat with his free hand. “Look, I can’t promise you’ll never have to wear the uniform again. Like it or not, it really is the easiest way to keep you safe.”

Deep down, she appreciated his apology and understanding, even as she inwardly groaned at the thought of wearing the beige jumpsuit. “It also made me a target,” she argued. “Drake wouldn’t have looked twice at me if I’d been in my normal clothes.”

“Please, Drake-ya reads the news and would have gone after you regardless of what you were wearing. He’s smart enough to recognize a dangerous alliance when he sees one, or at least an opportunity to get a leg up. Pitiful as your bounty is, getting his hands on a lone Straw Hat, especially one who was able to rob a former Marine Intelligence officer’s mansion, would be quite tempting.” A wide, predatory grin stretched across his face as he leaned forward, resting his chin on his fist as he leered at her. “Though, personally, I think he was jealous that I’d found a new redhead to play with.”

Nami snorted, the tension in her back loosening. Creepy as he was, Law was smart, steering the conversation away from the past and the world’s speculation on their partnership to something they could casually fight about. “Are you kidding? I think he was relieved; with me around, he doesn’t have to deal with you bothering him anymore.”

“If that were the case, he wouldn’t have tried to abduct you.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, he was trying to ‘rescue’ me; Drake’s a real gentleman, unlike you,” she quipped, taking a condescending sip of her drink.

“Oh, yes, a real gentleman who kidnaps and threatens to sell off unwilling women,” Law replied sarcastically.

“Better than a pervert who makes a girl wear an ugly uniform to indulge his weird sexual fetish.”

“…my what now?”

Confident that she’d just played a winning hand, she leaned forward, bending her chest slightly over the table. “Please, I see right through your little act. Sure, you flirt and tease, but only if I’m fully dressed.” The tip of a manicured finger teasingly traced along the swell of her cleavage. “When I’m wearing next to nothing, you show no interest in my incredibly sexy body. Given your proclivities, I’m surprised you even helped me out of my coat.”

Blinking owlishly, Law replied, “I’m sorry, you think I’m attracted to you…when you’re wearing more clothes?”

“Yeah!” she insisted, not caring for his disbelieving tone.

He covered his face with one large, tattooed hand, but through his splayed fingers Nami could still see yellow eyes light up with amusement. As she glared, they only shone brighter, and his shoulders slowly began to shake. Gradually, low chuckles slipped from his lips, finally morphing into full-on laughter, his palm failing to muffle the sound.

An irritated vein throbbed in Nami’s forehead as Law continued to cackle. “Don’t think you can fool me by treating this like a joke! You have a clothing kink! During my initial check-up, you didn’t give a damn that I was strutting around in my underwear. At the mansion, you were all over me when I was in that gown, but once it’s off, woosh, I’m as attractive as a lamp! Even after the mission, you barely even acknowledged what a hot piece of ass I am. Then you insist I wear that freaking jumpsuit…”

“Nami-ya,” he chortled as his hand dropped back to the table, managing to calm down enough during her rant to formulate a reply, “I don’t have a clothing kink—I’m just good at compartmentalizing and know there’s a time and place. When we were in the infirmary, not only was I acting as your doctor, but it was clear you were too nervous to be receptive to any blatant advances. As for the mansion, yes you looked absolutely delicious in that bodysuit, but we were there to do a job; there was simply no time to indulge myself. And when I treated your wounds,” his smile fell a bit, “you’d just been through a potentially traumatizing event. You were flinching just from me touching your calf. I know I can be an asshole, but did you really expect me to come onto you when you were acting like I was Harpin?”

For a moment, Nami just sat there, jaw hanging uselessly as she realized just how far off her theory had been, and most importantly, just how badly she’d managed to embarrass herself. Her own vanity had blinded her to the obvious answer. She could justify it with the fact that most of the guys she knew were either perverts or barely acknowledged that she was a woman, so she wasn’t used to a man who could both flirt and control himself, but she wouldn’t lie to herself.

“So…the uniform isn’t some weird sexual thing?” she asked, trying to cover her humiliation by finishing her glass of champagne. Times like these made her really wish she could get drunk; it would be the perfect excuse for her ridiculous accusation.

“I mean, I won’t lie and say I don’t like you in it, but it really is just for your own protection.” Law’s returning grin was smoldering and devilish as he purred, “I’m curious, though, about what bothered you more; that I might have a strange fetish for fully-clothed women, or that I wasn’t giving your incredibly sexy body the attention you felt it deserved?”

“I…”

He shuffled closer, sliding across the booth to close the distance between them, resting his right arm across the back of her seat and teasingly trailing the fingers of his left land along the soft skin of her jaw to cup her chin. “Because if it’s the latter, I’m happy to show you just how much I appreciate it when you run around my ship in crop tops and booty shorts.”

Nami blushed, realizing she’d played directly into his hands.

“You know, one of the reasons I like redheads so much is how vibrantly they blush,” he chuckled, leaning down so his breath danced across her sensitive neck and ear. The way she’d pinned her hair meant she had no shield from it, and she shivered at the sensation. “It’s so cute, watching the capillaries that carry your blood widen as adrenaline rushes through you. No matter how good a person’s poker face is, the body doesn’t lie. Lets me know my target’s receptive to my flirting, even when they stubbornly refuse to admit it.”

“You base it all on a blush?” she countered, defiantly poking him in the chest. “People blush in anger and embarrassment. You can’t assume someone wants you just because their face gets a little red.”

Like a leopard sizing up his prey, Law loomed above her, gaze analytical and hungry as he studied her. “No, you’re right; good thing, as a doctor, I know all the other physical indicators of arousal.” Tilting her head up, he stated, “Dilated pupils.”

His hand dropped from her chin to carefully brush along the flesh of her arm. “Goosebumps.”

Long fingers encircled her wrist, thumb resting over her pulse. “Increased heartrate.”

Honey eyes dropped to Nami’s mouth as the tip of her pink tongue peeked out to moisten her suddenly dry lips. “Unconsciously licking one’s lips.”

Releasing her wrist, Law’s touch traveled back up her arm to gently stroke the ends of her mikan hair. “And the fact that you haven’t even tried to move or push me away. In fact, I’d say you’re leaning into my touch.”

Nami’s face warmed further as she realized he was right. Mentally she berated herself, but deep down, she was beginning to accept that, even if she refused to act on it for pride and professionalism’s sake, she was slightly addicted to his attentions. She was never short on male admirers, but Law challenged her, the push-and-pull giving her a thrill the way heart-eyed fools like Sanji failed to. There was something about Law that drew her in like a moth to a flame—she knew it was fatal to get too close, but damn it, she couldn’t help but dance with danger.

Winding a short, orange lock of hair around a long finger, Law declared confidently, “All this says you find me sexually attractive.”

Before she could confirm or deny this claim, an excited voice bellowed, “As I live and breathe, Trafalgar Law graces us with his exalted presence once again!”

Said captain’s seductive grin shifted into his trademark smirk as he turned to greet the newcomer. “Are you living and breathing, Hiroshi-ya?”

The man chuckled, grabbing Law’s hand in a firm shake. Beneath a silver fedora his graying hair was cut close to his scalp. His skin was dark but sported prominent laugh-lines, a pair of oval sunglasses rested on the end of his large nose, and his brilliant grin could have replaced one of the stage’s spotlights. “If I’m not, you’d probably know before I did, doc.”

“Because I’m that good, or because you’d be too focused on performing to realize you’d dropped dead?”

The two shared a laugh before the man turned to introduce himself to Nami. “Hope I wasn’t interrupting a moment, here, darlin’, but I simply had to come over and say hello. The name’s ‘Devil’s Fingers’ Hiroshi, and your boy Law here is one of my favorite patrons. Tips well, and he saved my life.”

“I only fixed your hands.”

“Considerin’ how they’d been crushed beyond recognition and I need those to make a living, I think that counts.”

Nami gaped in shock as Hiroshi held up his hands, showing that while they were clearly in working order, they were littered with tiny surgical scars.

Law shrugged, though he seemed pleased with the praise. “It was a fun operation—not every day you get to remove someone’s finger bones one-by one to rebuild your favorite musician’s hands.”

“You put someone else’s bones into him?” Nami asked the surgeon, astounded.

“Of course,” Law said casually. “His own were absolutely pulverized, so a transplant was necessary if he ever wanted to play the saxophone again.”

Part of her was horrified at the mental image, but beneath that, something niggled at her. This was the second time she’d heard someone sing Law’s praises as a legitimate doctor, and unlike Reginald, Hiroshi seemed perfectly aware of the Surgeon of Death’s criminal activities and sadistic reputation. What reason did Law have for helping this man? Was it just because he liked his music?

“Well, I’d best get ready for the show, and I’m sure you want some more alone time with your girl, eh, Law?” Hiroshi teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“I’d certainly appreciate a little mood music,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a few large bills.

“You got it,” the sax player sniggered, winking at Nami. “Hope you don’t mind, but we’ll be stroking your boy’s ego a bit. After the surgery, I wrote a little ditty about him as thanks, and it’s become pretty popular with the crowd. Plus, it’s the only time Oscar lets me take over as the lead singer.”

“Law strokes his own ego plenty,” Nami groused, eyes rolling heavenward. “And if you want to write about him, go for his flaws; there’s enough of those to fill an opera.”

“Oooo, she’s feisty! Have fun with that, doc!” he chuckled as he strolled off towards the stage.

“I plan to,” Law purred, turning back towards the woman beside him. “I just can’t resist a fiery ginger.”

“Speaking of,” Nami deflected, hoping to keep the conversation from returning to their original topic, “you and Drake, huh?”

He chuckled at her obvious ploy but proceeded to go along with it. “Ah, one of my favorite playmates. What do you want to know?”

“I mean, let’s start with how the hell that happened?”

“You mean, how did the golden boy of the Navy find himself thoroughly seduced by the North Blue’s most notorious rookie pirate?”

“Yeah. Mainly because Drake seems smart enough not to fall for your sleazy tricks. Or at the very least, composed enough to ignore them until you lose interest.”

Refreshing their glasses of champagne, he gave a wolfish smile. “So you’d think, but Drake-ya’s got an instinctual, animalistic side that’s just so much fun to rile up. Besides that, I observed his physical reactions whenever we crossed paths, and wouldn’t you know it? They were damningly similar to yours.”

Picking at the remains of the charcuterie board, she munched on a piece of cheese to keep her body’s natural responses under control. Keep it together, she thought stubbornly. Even if I did mix business with pleasure, there’s no way I’m letting him win. “Pretty sure the heat of battle elicits similar responses. I think you were just looking for clues that weren’t there in a desperate attempt justify a hopeless crush.”

Her sass received a sharp laugh in reply. Handing Nami her glass, Law brushed the tips of his fingers over hers as he stated, “Maybe, but my theory was undeniably proven when Penguin, Ikkaku and I snuck onto his ship and found him moaning my name while jerking off in the shower.”

Nami nearly choked on her drink, the bubbly wine burning as it tried to make its way up her nose. No wonder Penguin wanted to repress that, she thought, mortified for the poor first mate. She’d probably feel the same way if she’d overheard someone masturbating to the thought of Luffy. “Oh my god.”

“You should have heard the things he was saying—fuck, harder Law! Put that dirty mouth to good use, you bastard!” Law moaned in her ear, mimicking his rival’s deep, guttural growl.

“M-maybe he had a hard-on for justice. You know, the actual law,” she argued weakly. She didn’t even really know why she bothered—it was clear he’d been right, considering how he and Drake had fucked at least once, but she just felt a need to try to knock him down a few pegs and keep his ego in check.

“Mmm, do you really believe that?” he hummed, honey eyes regarding her with amusement as he took a sip of his drink. “I think you’re just looking for clues that aren’t there in a desperate attempt to justify your need to be contrary.”

“Oh, shut up,” she grumbled, downing her drink and pouring the last of the bottle into her glass. “Fine, so Drake was utterly repressed from his time in the Navy and you were able to use that to get him into bed.” A thought came to her, and she raised her eyebrow curiously. “Wait, he didn’t leave the Marines because he fell in love with you or something, right?” That…would be kind of tragic, actually. Despite the sexual tension, the two Supernova hadn’t seemed to be on the friendliest of terms, so if Drake had defected for Law only for their relationship to sour…

“God, no,” he laughed, finishing off his own glass of champagne. “Drake-ya was dishonorably discharged not long after he massacred a village rumored to be sheltering pirates. He may seem honorable and composed, and I’ll admit he usually tried to avoid senseless cruelty, but when situations called for violence, he was cold-blooded and bloodthirsty. I think his family history also played a role; his father had defected and turned pirate, so I imagine there was a bit of a glass ceiling Drake-ya knew he’d never overcome.”

“And you know this how?”

“Pillow talk.”

Nami mulled his words over carefully. “Was Drake close to his father?”

“From what he told me while completely shitfaced, Diez Barrels had once been a Marine Drake-ya wanted to emulate, but when he switched sides, he was nothing short of an abusive monster.”

Pity welled up in Nami’s heart at the implications. “Poor guy.”

“You do remember this is the same man who tried to kidnap you, right?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it must not have sucked for him; looking up to someone, wanting to be just like them, only to be let down in spectacular fashion.”

For a brief moment, Law tilted his head, the brim of his hat casting a shadow across his face, but his voice was tight as he replied, “Enough about Drake-ya.” Clearing his throat, he turned to catch their waiter’s eye, pointing to the empty bottle of champagne. When his gaze returned to Nami, his tone was back to normal. “I’m getting a little jealous with all this talk about another man.”

She frowned. Nami could tell she’d hit a bit close to home there. Had Law once looked up to someone? Part of her wanted to pry; the man was uncharted waters, and the cartographer in her itched to discover his secrets and map them out.

But more than anyone, she respected wanting to keep a painful history private. “Then what do you want to talk about? Because if you want any more of my past, you’re going to need to buy me more than another bottle of champagne,” she replied before knocking back the final sip.

He raised an eyebrow, impressed. “You drank quite a bit of that, Nami-ya, and yet I’m not noticing any signs of inebriation. It seems Mugiwara wasn’t exaggerating when he bragged about your tolerance.”

“Please, this is nothing—Zoro and I could drink whole taverns dry and still walk a straight line. Hell, it was one of my favorite ways to swindle pirates; get in good with the crew, outdrink them, then swipe their treasure while they were all passed out.”

“Interesting. You may be physically weak, but your liver sounds formidable.”

The lights, dimmed, and Nami glanced around curiously. Law chuckled, drawing her closer and pointing towards the stage. “Looks like the show’s about to start,” he murmured in her ear as he settled in, the arm around her waist telling her that she wasn’t moving for at least the duration of the song.

The band played a low, steady beat as a handsome man in a white silk blazer escorted a curvaceous woman with bold red hair wearing a silver dress onto the stage, the spotlights hitting the sequins in a way that nearly distracted from the daring slit and sexy black garters underneath. Turning her back to the crowd, she swayed her hips to the rhythm as the man took the microphone.

“Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen,” he drawled, tossing the crowd a smirk that could give Law’s a run for its money. “We’ve got a great night in store for you. I see a lot of new faces out there—as well as some familiar ones—so I’m not gonna yammer on too long. I want you to sit back, enjoy the service, the scenery, but most of all, enjoy the show.”

As he finished, he signaled to the band, who immediately transitioned into a smooth but lively tune, Hiroshi’s saxophone front-and-center, and the red-haired woman turned around, sensually dancing with the emcee as he began to sing.

It ain’t no big thing to wait for the bell to ring It ain’t no big thing The toll of the bell

Aggravated, spare for days I troll downtown the red-light place

Jump up bubble up - what’s in store? Love is the drug and I need to score

Enthralled, Nami watched as the pair performed, the song turning into a duet as they moved, the woman’s low, husky voice sending a thrill down her back. Or perhaps it was Law’s fingers stroking idly along her side—far from his groping in the alley, but the light touch was just as hot. Thighs clenched as the male singer bent the woman over suggestively, and she hoped Law was too focused on the show to notice her aroused blush. She didn’t want to imagine herself and the Supernova next to her in their place, but with the woman’s red hair and the man’s cocky smirk, it was really difficult not to picture the sensual scene the song suggested—her and Law stumbling around a dark room, locked in a passionate embrace, until finally they made it to the bed…

God, she joked about Drake being repressed to give in to an asshole like Law, but clearly, she was just as pent-up.

When the song ended, Nami let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, quickly going for her refilled champagne, gulping it down to wet her suddenly dry mouth. She hadn’t even realized Hansuke had refreshed their drinks as she hadn’t been able to pry her eyes from the stage, too lost in the song and her fantasy.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Law smirking in an all-too-knowing manner, but before he could comment, they were once more interrupted, only this time by the gorgeous singer who had left the stage to visit their table.

“Captain Trafalgar,” the red-haired woman purred, voice husky with an edge of a rough accent that somehow made her even more glamourous, “I heard you were back in town.”

“Excellent opening act, Haiko-ya, as usual,” Law replied, standing up to gallantly kiss her hand. “Oscar may be your prized vocalist, but everyone knows you’re the real star up there.”

“You charmer. Still sure you don’t want to quit piracy and come work for me?” she asked with an inviting smile. “I could use a man of your talents.”

“I’m sure you could, but as much as I like this club, staying in one place just doesn’t appeal to me. I like to wander, you know.”

“Pity, but you can’t blame a woman for trying. After all, who wouldn’t want a skilled doctor and enforcer on her payroll? Especially with my husband’s…accident,” she replied, tone suddenly going sour.

“I assume Jinzo’s challenging your claim to Kimo-ya’s share of the business?”

“Oh, he’s doing more than that—he’s trying to compete against my business. Opening his own club and even a few brothels so he can steal my clientele—rumor has it that’s why he’s being so stingy with his black market clients. His recent investments have put him in the red, and he he’s going to have to do something drastic to recoup the cost.”

For a brief moment Law frowned, though his lips soon turned back up into his calculating, sadistic grin. “Until then, his broken promises could earn him quite a few enemies.”

“Oh yes. I hear X Drake in particular was extremely pissed that Jinzo didn’t have his money today.”

“He was even more so when I told him that there’s no way he’d planned on paying his asking price.”

Haiko tsked. “Oh dear. It would be such a shame if some frustrated client were to cross Jinzo’s path before his latest business venture can properly take off.”

Behind them, Nami swallowed audibly, catching onto their intentions. Law glanced at her over his shoulder before returning his attention to Haiko. “Now’s not a great time to talk business, but perhaps we could continue our chat after the show. Jinzo’s trying to screw over a lot of treacherous people, myself included, and while I’m not interested in your job offer, I’d be happy to negotiate a deal that could benefit us both greatly.”

Her blood red lips curled upwards, eyes alight with interest. “Meet me in my office at nine-thirty sharp—it would be a pleasure doing business with you.”

“Before you go, I want to introduce you to my date,” he drawled, gently tugging Nami out of her seat. “Haiko-ya, this is Cat Thief Nami.”

“Ah, the woman who swindled Jinzo out of a lot of money,” the businesswoman replied, pleased smile fixated on the younger woman as she shook her hand.

“Does everybody know about that?” Nami squeaked.

“Oh, darling, it was the best piece of news I’ve heard all day. And not everyone knows—yet. I just happen to have a few eyes and ears stationed close to him so he doesn’t try to do to me what he did to my darling Kimo. I may not be able to prove he was involved, but it never hurts to be ready for anything.”

“Very true,” Law agreed. “So, I’ll see you at nine-thirty?”

Haiko blew him a kiss as she sauntered off. “Absolutely. And as thanks for embarrassing that piece of shit, your drinks are on me tonight. Keep it up, Miss Cat Thief, and you might just earn a VIP membership here, too.”

Nami couldn’t keep herself from staring as the woman left. Beautiful and glamourous though she was, she totally believed Haiko was the sort who would slit a man’s throat with a smile. She had a dangerous aura about her, and given how casually she and Law spoke, Nami was certain an ill wind was blowing.

“You two are going to do something to Jinzo, aren’t you?” she asked, sweat prickling at the back of her neck. She had no sympathy for the man, but she hoped whatever Law was planning didn’t involve her; the last thing she wanted was to get caught in the middle of an underworld power struggle.

“Mmmm, don’t worry your pretty little head over that, sweetheart,” Law purred as he tugged her towards the stage. His eyes were half-lidded and inviting, and Nami’s breath caught in her throat as her heart stuttered. Maybe it was just the aftereffects of Haiko’s performance, but the heat between her legs begged her not to resist him. “Ikkaku’s due to steal you away from me soon, so I’m not wasting another second.”

“What are you doing?” she asked, voice barely more than a whisper.

One hand clasped hers as the other wrapped around her lower back. “It dawned on me that, with how busy you were pick-pocketing rich assholes at the gala, I never got a dance with you. We’re going to remedy that. And wouldn’t you know it?” he rasped, leaning in so close his lips ever-so-slightly brushed her ear. “They’re about to play my song.”

Though initially thrown by his sudden change of tone and forwardness, Nami quickly realized from the feeling of hard wood beneath their feet that he’d led them onto the dancefloor. Before she could protest or break away, Hiroshi noticed them, tossing a wink and pointing them out to the male singer from earlier. Oscar quietly chuckled as he handed over the microphone, even giving a playful bow before stepping over to a xylophone.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we are graced with the presence of the man who inspired this next song, the one and only Dr. Heart Stealer!”

As the music began, Law swept her into a dance, easily leading her in time to the lively beat.

Why is everyone so impatient? Recklessly jumping into things Crushing backstabbing

To achieve your goal Sometimes you just need to dive deep, hide yourself Scan the situation, that’s all

Welcome to Trafalgar’s ROOM Look into the mirror and see Are you who you really are? Welcome to Trafalgar’s ROOM Shall I steal what’s most precious to you?

Dr. Heart Stealer

Once you’re addicted, you can never escape…

As Hiroshi crooned the lyrics, Nami forced herself to focus on keeping pace with Law, and not on the surprising suggestiveness of the lyrics or the heat of the doctor’s palm on her exposed back. There were mere inches between them—enough space to properly move, but still so close that their breaths and body heat mingled. He was a surprisingly good dancer, too, gently guiding her across the polished floor in time to the beat, giving the occasional spin and dip, all while those golden, hungry eyes never left hers.

If something’s important, hide it away Once you shout about it out loud It’s just too naive, so sickening

Waiting is not a futile thing With enough clinical data You won’t make a mistake, there’ll be no trouble

Welcome to Trafalgar’s ROOM It’ll be over once your space’s safety is breached Welcome to Trafalgar’s ROOM Because I know what’s most precious to you

Dr. Heart Stealer

Once I set my target, I’ll definitely get it

Don’t run away, come join me Show me how you dance

Welcome to Trafalgar’s ROOM Look into the mirror and see Are you who you really are? Welcome to Trafalgar’s ROOM Shall I steal what’s most precious to you?

Dr. Heart Stealer

Once you’re addicted, you can never escape…

At last the song came to an end, and while Nami wanted to blame her breathlessness on the dancing, she knew at least a little of it had to do with the way Law was looking at her. His intense stare sizzled her skin pleasantly, and she had no choice but to admit that, as much as she wanted to fight it, the song was right.

If she let herself get addicted to him, she’d never escape.

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super-optimisticgentleman · 6 years ago

Text

Replay

Yamada Hizashi has been missing for fifteen years after a night out on patrol. Though his body was ever found though most suspected the Voice hero to be deceased until......

*Fifteen years ago, Aizawa Shota married Yamada Hizashi.

*The two of them had an argument one night (caused by Shota's self-doubts or something) which results in Hizashi leaving for patrol. (I love you," The Voice Hero smiled softly at his husband, hoping his words would reach the other and smooth his doubts, but silence was his only answer. It's crushing, but he keeps his smile in place as he leaves; the door softly clicking shut behind him. )

*Hizashi never returns from his patrol. (They never found his body. The only thing they found of the Voice Hero was his shattered speaker splattered with the blond's own blood.)

*Eight years later, a young blonde named Hitoshi Zashi takes the AU entrance test with his adopted bother/best friend: Hitoshi Shinso.

*Hitoshi Zashi is Yamada Hizashi. He doesn't remember anything before being found half dead by a younger Shinso.

*Both end up in Class 1A. (Rescue points for Shinso and Battle Points for Zashi as they worked together. Zashi destroying the robots and Shinso saving anyone caught in the crossfire.)

*Aizawa Shota refused to believe Hizashi is dead and is haunted by his own past decisions/regrets while searching for his husband. He can't help but begin to lose hope of ever finding Present MIc alive after ten fruitless years until Hitoshi Zashi walks into his classroom with a familiar face, familiar smile, familiar glasses, a familiar quirk.

*Shota tries to get closer to Zashi (certain the other is somehow connected with the disappearance of his husband) but Shinso is constantly throwing his efforts as he doesn't like the desperate look their teacher is always granting his (in his own opinion) obvious brother.

*Zashi is a genius and not nearly as Obvious as Shinso thinks he is though where Shinso sees desperation, Zashi sees a soul-numbing sadness that his presence seems capable of lifting; so he tries to reach out so to help ease Eraserhead's burden. (After all, what type of Hero would he be if he didn't at least try to help?)

*USJ still happens though Zashi ends up sharing a hospital room with Shota due to him slipping pass 'the creepy mist dude' and Shinso to chase after his teacher despite being ordered to flee with the others. ("What were you thinking?!" "Honestly, I don't know. I had planned to follow the others," Zashi spoke as a bright familiar smile found its way onto the blonde's face, ", but the moment you jumped my body just moved to follow you instead.")

*Zashi begins to have nightmares/dreams he can't fully recall after the USJ incident. Shinso is worried/overprotective.

*Recovery Girl makes a discovery while running test to ensure here two patients have a clean bill of health and delivers startling news to the faculty of UA. ( The old woman cleared her throat as she stepped forward until she replaced Nezu at the head of the room, "Due to the USJ Incident, I found myself running some basic test on the samples collected by the students caught within the crossfire. By doing so I have unearthed a discovery of most importance," She took a moment to breathe as her eyes slowly drifted the room's occupants before locking onto those of Aizawa Shota as she knew this would affect him the most, "According to the databanks, Hitoshi Zashi has a 100% DNA match to one Yamada Hizashi.")

*The discovery brings about utter Discord.

*Shinso begins to notice the looks the other teachers are granting Zashi and assumes the worse. He's fully convinced AU is full of child predators who are solely attracted to his brother. Shinso finds himself desperate (He can't always be with Zashi and every time he turns his back one of them seem to be trying to make a move on his poor obvious brother) for help and begins to recruit others to his cause.

*After careful observation of their teacher's interactions with Zashi, Class 1-A becomes the 'Hitoshi Zashi Protection Squad' and starts to recruit the friends Zashi made outside of Class 1A to their cause.

*Zashi has a talk with Katsuki Bakugou (The two of them have formed a surprising 'Business Agreement'-coughFriendshipcough- while tutoring each other in subjects they need help with that the other excels at. Bakugou: English, Zashi: Combat experience.) about what he can recall of his dreams. (Zashi doesn't tell Shinso about them as the other seems overstressed lately and he doesn't want to make things worse by dropping his problems on his brother.)

*After a bit of accidentally eavesdropping (If the teachers didn't want to be overheard they shouldn't be talking so loud outside.) Bakugou begins to make a connection between Zashi and the assumed dead Voice Hero: Present Mic. He eventually comes to the conclusion Hitoshi Zashi is Present Mic under the effects of a quirk that was probably meant to kill him instead of dealing him and leaving him amnesiac. Unfortunately, due to not fully overhearing the conversation, the explosive blond also comes to the conclusion the teachers are out to finish the job. ("-after that, Hitoshi Zashi will die and cease to exist.")

*Bakugou becomes an overprotective guard dog to a slightly confused by happy Zashi while reaching out to Mei Hatsume (having been introduced to him through Zashi) for a private commission.

*Moving into the dorms both simplify yet complicates matters.

*The Zashi Protection Squad hold a meeting while Zashi slips away from his current guard: Mineta only to run into Aizawa Shota, Iida Tensei, and Kayama Nemuri. The three end up at a Cat Cafe where the three heroes tell stories from their Highschool years in hopes of jogging the other's memories lose. After the Cafe, the four of them end up at an arcade and to no one's surprise: Zashi is still the DDR King.

*Bakugou, meanwhile, is pissed at the grapefucker as he, Shinso and the rest of Class 1A search for the missing Blond. Said group almost suffers a massive heart attack seeing the blond being 'shepherded' into a deserted, filthy back alley by three people- two of which they're certain are out to kill said blond. (The real reason they were heading that way was due to Shota seeing a stray cat sleeping in said alley and wanting to pet it for a bit.)

*Zashi is confused (He's certain his classmates are lying as he didn't have anything planned with them today), the Heroes a bit confused (All their students keep looking at them as though they were about to murder someone) and suspicious at their student's behavior, and Class 1A is relieved/terrified to how close Zashi came to certain death the moment they looked away. Many of them begin to understand Shinso's desperation.

*The teachers hold a conference back at UA. Most are confused noticing their students suddenly shift in behavior (expect Nezu who knows about the misunderstanding going on the whole time.) and try to figure out what has caused it. (Nezu finds the whole ordeal amusing. )

*THE SPORTS FESTIVAL.

*Bakugou and Mei bequeath Zashi with dimensional speakers identical to the one's Present Mic owned (Both of them agree, that with them Zashi would be capable of protecting himself for a bit without needing a constant guard dog/extra shadow always by his side.).

*Zashi can use the speakers at the festival due to a loophole. Due to the speakers, the dreams and extra training with Bakugou, Zashi makes it into the top three at the end of the festival. (Aizawa and Ms. Joke are the announcers. )

*Zashi finally(!) get some time to himself without his classmates or brother all but suffocating him with their presences. Wanting answer, Zashi leaves UA and follows an invisible path he could recall from his dreams. At the end of the trail, he finds a strangely familiar house belonging to an elderly Mrs. and Mrs. Yamada. (He shouldn't have knocked, Zashi knew that; but at the same time he felt like he had to. He wanted to. He needed to see whoever was behind this door and he needed it yesterday.)

*Mrs. and Mrs. Yamada recognize Zashi for Hizashi instantly. (Maybe he should have panicked- the woman had practically suffocated him with her hug before rushing him inside of her home and bolting the door shut- but for some reason, Zashi didn't feel threatened. Instead, he felt safe. Even as the woman's crying and screams drew out another woman with beautiful cyan-colored hair.)

*Zashi has been missing for a week, the UA Faculty and the Zashi Protection Squad panic. Meanwhile, Zashi learns about the reason for the attack that resulted in Yamada Hizashi becoming Hitoshi Zashi. (Yamada Hizashi was attacked on patrol, not because he was Present Mic; but rather due to his parents- One by blood and one by choice- being Hunters. Aka: Heroes who hunt other Heroes that had betrayed everything they stood for, drowning in blood they'll never be able to wash away, and can only be saved/stopped by death. His Death was meant to be a vengeance killing against his parents by the Kin of one of their targets. He had only survived due to sheer luck and one Hitoshi Shinso. His attackers weren't so lucky once his parents sunk their claws into them. )

*Despite having searched, his parents don't know a way to reverse the effect of the quirk- they didn't really ask before doing away with what they believed to be their child's killers- nor a way for Zashi to fully remember more than what he dreams about.

*A wild Eraserhead appears in the dead of night.

*Deeming UA unsafe by both himself and Hizashi's parents, Shota finds himself in a difficult position. ("E-excuse me?" Shota stuttered slightly certain he had misheard his mother-in-law. "I said," The blonde meet his eyes head on, "I want you to take Hizashi and leave the country." )

*Shota has to make a decision.( Does he take the mostly amnesiac child that is his husband and abandon everyone else to keep him safe or does he stay and risk endangering the most amnesiac child that is his husband to protect everyone else? )

*Right or Wrong, Shota makes his decision.

That's all I got right now. So, here is the main question: Should I make a story out of this, leave it as is or see about making it a comic?

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celtics534 · 6 years ago

Text

Finesse

@gryffindormischief and I are proud to present a cooperative effort! It all started as a fun conversation and now we have over 5,000 words for y’all!

Also available on FF.net and AO3

Harry sat by the fire in the common room, trying to talk himself out of it.

It’s a bad idea, his brain kept saying, in a voice that sounded all too much like Hermione. He shouldn’t ask her. It would be difficult to get the words out for starters, but -- Merlin -- he needed to know! He hated being blind. Harry liked going into a situation with as much detail as he could get, without it… well, he wouldn’t let his mind drift back to anything like that now.

He shook his head. He didn’t want to do this, but who else could he ask? Sirius was gone, Remus was busy with the Order, Mr Weasley -- Hell no! No, he could only think of one person who he could handle going to this about.

With his decision made, Harry stood from the sofa, crumpling the paper he had been doodling on and threw it into the fire. It was only an hour before curfew, so most people had settled into the Common Room for the night, minus patrolling prefects and stressed fifth and seventh years who haunted the library.

No one paid him any mind as he exited the portrait hole. Ever since he and Ginny had gotten together people watched him like a show animal, more than usual. Though honestly, he didn’t really care (for once), because he was blissfully distracted by Ginny.

Ginny… The reason he was having to do this… The cause of all this…

Harry’s feet led him to the office without any guidance from his mind. Then his fist rattled the door without any forethought.

Professor McGonagall opened at the third knock, her teaching robes still on, even though the lateness of the hour would have presented her with more than enough chance to relax.

“Potter.” Her tone was as sharp as ever, but her eyes shone with curiosity. “What’s happened?”

“Noth -” Harry’s voice betrayed him as it cracked. He cleared his throat, trying to prevent his face from flushing. “Nothing, professor.”

“Students don’t come to my office for nothing.” She moved out of the door frame. “Come in a take a seat.”

Harry did as he was told, perching on one of the empty stiff back chairs across from McGonagall’s seat. McGonagall took her position, pulling open the tin of biscuits on her desk. Harry politely refused with a shake of the head.

“Alright then, Potter.” McGonagall watched him. Her gaze always seemed to draw words from his mouth. “Care to explain why you’re here?”

“I don’t know anything about sex.” Harry’s could feel his eyes become the size of saucers. He hadn’t meant to blurt it like that! Damn that McGonagall stare!

In her defense, McGonagall didn’t look away or even look surprised. She simply kept her attention on him. “And?”

Harry wanted his chair to become sentient and man-eating and swallow him whole. It was a better way to die than by the complete and utter embarrassment slowly destroying him. He couldn’t look at her, his eyes focused on the corner of the desk where an ink stain seemed permanent.

“Harry.” That made him look up. It wasn’t often she called him by his first name. Her face was kind as she held out the biscuit tin again. “Take one.”

He followed her order this time, taking the shortbread with no intention of placing it in his twisted stomach.

“I’m guessing Sirius never got to have this… talk with you, huh?” Her tone was soothing, and honestly, that freaked him out almost as much as the topic… almost.

He shook his head once.

“Alright then.” She seemed to square her shoulders. “Once we finish this discussion we never speak of it again. Got it?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Harry moved his lips across Ginny’s jaw down to her throat. He loved the way her body seemed to hum as his attention moved south. This was their hidden part of the Burrow, their hideaway in the months since everything had ended. A place where no war had ever touched. Sadness didn’t thicken the air. And best of all, no brothers around to glare daggers at Harry for touching their sister.

No; here he was free to kiss Ginny whenever he wanted and he wanted to now. His mouth glided across her semi-exposed collarbone and over to her shoulder. His hands, which had a mind of their own, had already reached up under her shirt and were steadily moving north. Apparently, being this close to Ginny brought out the cartographer in Harry.

Just as his hands were about to touch the underside of the cotton that covered her breasts, an unwelcome voice popped into his head.

When a woman is aroused -

Harry tore his lips away from Ginny’s skin.

“Harry?” Her voice was confused. “What’s wrong?”

“Shit!” Harry murmured as he backed his body away from hers as if she were hot flame, “Shit! Damn it!

“Harry?” Ginny sat up from her indented section of grass. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“She’s in my head!”

“Okay…” Ginny tilted her head. “What ‘she’ are you talking about? Because I should be the only she in your head when we’re snogging.”

Harry groaned, falling backward onto the ground. “Bloody McGonagall!”

There was silence. Harry covered his face with his hands. Then Ginny spoke in a tone full of suppressed mirth. “Well, I guess she’s hot in a stately way.”

That made Harry tear his hands from his face to look at her. The glee in her expression matched her earlier tone. “Ew, Gin! That’s not -” Ginny let out a snort. “Shut it. That’s not what I meant. She gave me the…”

“She gave you the?” Ginny’s brow quirked.

Maybe it would be easier to claim he had a thing for McGonagall’s glasses.

“The talk.”

“The talk? Like the talk?”

Harry wished he had the power to make a sinkhole appear, or maybe that the chair in McGonagall’s office had gotten a taste for humans. “Yeah. That talk.”

The silence returned. Harry didn't know how long they remained quiet. Finally, Ginny let out a giggle, then a another, and another, until she was full out laughing.

“Stop!” Harry groaned. “It was the worst moment of my life!”

“You've died twice.” Ginny reminded him.

He sat up. He looked her dead in the eye before saying, “Worst. Moment.”

Ginny let out a final cackle. She moved her body close to his, letting their breaths mix. “Maybe I can make it better.”

Summer is strange, perhaps it’s conditioning from school days, or maybe just the laziness that seems to settle over everyone when heat waves wriggle on the asphalt, but everything feels relaxed and comfortable. Well, except wearing anything denim and sitting on vinyl seats.

Harry’d fully bought in to the whole atmosphere, taking a week off work to stay at home with his wild little family in their cozy country home.

Albus and Lily were spending the day at the seaside with Bill and Fleur’s brood, and Harry had become one with the hammock in the yard.

All in all, Harry was the most relaxed he’s been in a while. Especially after the way Ginny wished him a restful sleep the night before, and then the way he woke her up that morning. God being married was even better than he could’ve imagined.

Not that it’s all shits and giggles. Something he was reminded of when James wandered into the yard with a dramatic sigh, the one that always preceded a headache of a conversation and often a subsequent firecall with McGonagall.

“Dare I ask, James?”

The eldest Potter son flopped down in the soft grass next to Harry’s lounging spot with another sigh. “When did you get the - the talk?”

Tension wriggled up and down Harry’s spine, but he forced his voice to remain calm. “We - do you have more questions? It’s not just the one talk and then we’re done. You can come to me whenever you have questions or ideas or - ”

Face scrunched, James flinched backward like he’d been slapped. “Yeah but, Dad, it’s so... Who gave you the talk?”

Ah, even my least emotionally aware child doesn’t want to blurt out that my parents are dead.

“You mean since my mum and dad were gone?”

James grunted. “I was trying to be less-- abrupt. Mum said, well she said if I wasn’t careful I was going to say the wrong shite to the wrong person and get punched.”

“And?”

“And that it’s good to be nice,” James parrots.

“Right,” Harry agreed, letting his leg dangle over the edge of the hammock to set it swinging, “So, anyway. Back to your original question... not that I can really answer it.”

James pushed up on his palms and blinked at Harry, biting at his lip. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not allowed to say who gave me the talk.” Or more accurately, I swore to myself I wouldn’t. For my own sanity.

"Was it Sirius?"

Harry snorted, I wish. "Sure, we'll go with that. Not that anyone would believe the truth."

Wind rustled the trees, carrying the scent of mint from the flourishing bushes tucked on either side of the back door, and Harry took a deep breath as James grumbled, “Dad. Why do you have to make this so awkward?”

“Your life could be so much more awkward,” Harry grunted, “Count your blessings cupcake.”

And despite a somewhat rocky start, Harry did manage to dig James’ current romantic troubles out of him and provide some measure of clarity on the subject. Being a teenager is a minefield even without homicidal fascist maniacs trying to kill you. Harry, at least, comforted himself that his kids had it better, safety wise and in terms of trustworthy adults on hand.

But there comes a point where even the most loving parent has to let their little chicks spread their wings and fly, even if it’s just to Hogwarts. And that little flight means Harry can shield them from things only so long.

Which meant when James returned to Scotland in the fall, he was a year older, twice as sarcastic, and trying on adult humor for size. They’d been studying long term effects of transfiguration on the human body and he’d just delivered a highly witty (or immature, depending on whom you ask) one liner when a throat cleared behind him.

Since when do professors linger near the student’s tables during dinner? Dad would say it’s the height of stupidity to rely on assumptions based solely on usual activity. He also probably would have laughed because the joke was funny. Mum would probably say doing anything under McGonagall’s watchful eye was a gamble and the joke wasn’t quite enough to risk it.

But, spilled milk, glare ice, and such. He was now facing down not just a Professor, but Headmistress McGonagall and all that office entails, while she eyed him with an inscrutable expression.

Grinning nervously, James maintained eye contact - a tip from Uncle George - while his supposed mates inched toward the opposite end of the table. The loser speaks first - that’s from Uncle Percy - so James holds his tongue.

McGonagall quirked her brow as her lips tightened almost imperceptibly before she murmured, “I see your father has passed on my lesson.”

“I - what?”

The hours pass in a haze and around ten, James penned a vague letter and sent it off with his owl, Matilda, with explicit instructions to deliver it to his dad immediately. The common room had long since cleared, save a few seventh years waist deep in NEWTs prep, and James laid across the plush rug in front of the fireplace in a sort of malaise.

Until the flames flared green and his dad’s face looked up at him worriedly. “James? Are you alright?”

James rolled onto his side. “You didn’t go through McGonagall?”

“You said not to. I had to use the fireplace in my office at the Ministry to get in.”

“Sorry, Dad.”

Harry smiled. “S’alright. So long as you’re alright. Hopefully there weren’t any members of the press lingering around to get a shot of Harry Potter in his pants.”

“You didn’t put on trousers? It’s not that important,” James nearly shrieked, lowering his voice when he gets a few death glares from sleep deprived students.

That earned him a loud bark of a laugh from his dad and a rueful shake of the head. “James, your letter was almost unreadable and said, and I quote, ‘It is a matter of the utmost importance, please contact me by floo at your earliest convenience.’”

Shrugging, James ran a shaky hand through his hair. “What? Gran says young gentlemen should use good grammar and letter etiquette.”

“Yes, but your dad is an auror and knows his kids,” Harry put in, “And you never use complete sentences unless you’re terrified. And then the whole ‘avoid McGonagall thing’ - you know where my mind jumped.”

“Such a drama queen, Dad,” James teased, feeling the tension begin to leave his body at the familiar banter.

“Hm. It’s hereditary. Do with that what you will. And now, let’s get to the guts spilling part.”

“Well, at dinner tonight I was with my friends and McGonagall - ”

“How much trouble are we talking?”

James raised his hands defensively. “No trouble! Just. How did we get here?”

Harry frowned. “We? You mean - did you not get the talk we had?”

“I mean how in the world did you,” James winced and sent a glance over his shoulder before continuing in a whisper, “shag when McGonagall is the one who told you about it?”

Harry’s a really sympathetic parent, almost too much according to Ginny. When James flooded the dungeons with his latest ‘experiment’, Harry argued detention for being caught out after hours was enough. When Lily Luna’s accidental magic ended with a couple of nasty kids at her birthday party getting a free hair dye, Harry’d said her love for Teddy was admirable and it was good that she protected people she cared about, that she stuck up for bullies.

Ginny was mildly persuaded on the first, particularly since it seemed James’ foray into potioneering was for academic purposes. Lily’s was a harder sell, particularly when the Muggle Protection Squad had to show up and subtly alter remembrances of the afternoon.

Comparatively, Albus has been a pretty calm child, except for his tendency to want to touch and poke everything. Wet paint? Check. Neville’s semi-poisonous and highly experimental saber-toothed Snargaluff? In a second. But generally speaking, he’s less dramatic than the other two.

Which is why when Albus came home during Winter hols in sixth year and threw himself across the lounge seat in Harry’s home office, it was a bit of a red flag. “Dad. Sixth year is horrible.”

Harry glanced up from the folders, papers, and other garbage that littered his desk and laughed. “It’s not all that bad.”

“You don’t understand - ”

“That won’t work until seventh year,” Harry snickered, “And I’ll gladly pass all your final year struggles to Mum.”

“I mean, your seventh year was kinda shitty.”

“Sixth year was worse.”

Albus slumped lower on the couch and twisted his face toward Harry. “Isn’t that when you and Mum?”

“She was a bright spot in an otherwise awful three-hundred-and-sixty-five days,” Harry began gathering up a few of his pens, highlighters, and whatever other tools he’d managed to pile all over his desk in the last day and a half, “I appreciate your lack of mock hurling when I say shite like that.”

“I’m mature. Back to the main issue though, not all of us can have a world saving prophecies hanging over our heads at sixteen. S’not really fair to hold my teen angst to that standard.”

Harry fiddled with the sleeve of his jumper, “Al - that was far from the worst part of my sixth.”

“I feel like that’s a lie, but I’ll bite,” Albus said, “At least I’ll forget about my own mess of a life.”

A shout sounded from upstairs, followed by a thud and more shouting. Harry wondered if he’d need to pause this heart to heart when Ginny’s own voice joined the fray. God she’s amazing. They could really use a night off...or maybe a weekend. A long one. And he could visit that little shop in London with the lacy bits she likes…

Harry cleared his throat and refocused. “Mess? Are you seeing anyone? Is that what you’re having trouble with? I can - ”

Albus threw a cushion over his face and groaned. “Oh God, Dad! Can we not have the talk? We did whatever that was before my second year and I’ve picked up a few things since then so.

“Let’s hope you didn’t pick up anything - we really should have another discussion, there’s more to talk about.”

Punching the pillow over his face, Albus murmured, “I think I might actually die from embarrassment.”

“Trust me, this is a better option than...you know what, I’ll give you a way out.”

Albus sat up and let the cushion fall to the carpet, his hair a ruffled mess around his flushed face. Poor kid. Harry can only imagine what he looked like twenty or so years ago…

“You can hear it from me, or learn how I did.”

They had a staring contest of sorts, Albus considering his father and his options, probably also regretting the chain of events that set him up for the current state of affairs. But life happens and so, inevitably, do hormones. “I want more details before I decide.”

Harry smirked and rounded his desk, settling in the armchair across from Albus. “Well you know Remus was hardly around and Sirius had…”

James groaned as he crossed out another word in his pitiful excuse for a potions essay. Assigning them three feet on Veritaserum during the winter holidays was just cruel. Why should he be forced to think about saliva from a chimaera while his brother and sister were free to do whatever?

Crumpling his third attempt, James threw his head back so it thudded against the kitchen wall. He closed his eyes. He only had to complete this one assignment, then he would be free for the rest of the holidays. Next time, he wouldn’t complain about his homework in the car ride home. If his parents hadn’t known about the damn paper…

“You know chimaera’s have the head of a goat not a sheep, right?” James opened his eyes to look at his twelve year-old brother, Albus, reading his most recent attempt.

“Have you ever seen one up close?” James asked sardonically.

Albus shrugged one shoulder. “No, and clearly neither have you.”

James was ready to kick something. First off, he’d been working his arse off for over two hours on this assignment, and now Albus decided to come into his work zone and be a sarcastic little shit. He wasn’t in the mood for this. Yes, he was ready kick something and was definitely leaning toward it being Albus’ arse.

Before he could tell his brother as much, Lily rushed into the kitchen eyes wide with panic. “James!”

She barreled into him. Being ten, she was no light feather. James let out a small grunt. “What, Lily?”

“I think Mummy is hurt.”

That was enough for both brothers to spring into action. “What do you mean?” Albus asked as they heading in the direction Lily came from.

“I think I heard her scream!” Lily moved as quickly as her little legs would carry her. “She’s in her room.”

That made James’ pace stutter. He came to a stop on the first step to the upper floor. “Uh, Lily, do you know if Dad was with her?”

And now Albus paused. He gave his brother a wary look. “Oh… I hope not.”

Lily, however, didn’t know what her brothers silently agreed upon. “Yeah. I saw Daddy close the door earlier when I was reading the book about Hungarian Horntails Uncle Charlie gave me.”

“Ew!” Albus shuddered. James closed his eyes hoping the images of his parents doing -- that -- wouldn’t possess his brain.

But of course, it was at that moment he heard what could only be described as a happy moan come from the direction of his parents’ room.

“Oh! Do you think Mummy and Daddy are okay?” Lily asked, her fear almost palpable.

“If I had to place a bet,” James scrunched up his nose and grumbled to himself, “I’d place a thousand galleons on them being more than okay.”

Albus’ expression had taken on a look of pure, unadulterated horror. “We need to leave!”

“Do you think Uncle George would mind wiping my memory?”

“I know that’s how we got here, but…” Albus’ voice hung off as he visually had to shake off his demons.

“And I thought it was the stork,” James claimed sarcastically.

“Uncle Ron mentioned something about a pumpkin patch when I asked him,” Lily supplied helpfully, comforted by her brother’s lighthearted if odd banter.

“Yes, that works, Lily.”

“Gin.”

James flinched at the tone of his father’s voice. Nope! This wasn’t happening! “Come on!” He grabbed his siblings by their arms and led them to the fireplace. “We’re going to grandmum’s!”

Harry rolled onto his back, trying to catch his breath. “So did I fulfill your orders?”

Ginny let out a low laugh. “Every box was checked, and then some.”

“Good, I would have hated to - “ Harry paused as heard the sound of the floo firing up. “Who’s here?”

Ginny already had one leg in her jeans. “With our luck it will be Ron. His timing is still the worst.”

Once she threw a shirt over her head, Ginny headed down to the sitting room to greet their visitor. Harry followed his wife’s lead, but no one was there.

“What the…?” Harry looked to the sofa which had a de-crumpled piece of parchment resting on cushion. He picked it up and choked on his own salva. “Gin!”

She came back from the kitchen. “Yeah?”

“No one is here, but… uh…”

“But what, Harry?”

He couldn’t speak any more. He handed her the note. It only took her a few seconds to understand the message, then she started laughing.

Only one word was scrolled in their eldest son’s messy handwriting in big, bold letters. Silencio!

“I think the kids may have heard us, dear,” Ginny said through her laughter, “That’s what we get for trusting our kids to keep themselves busy for a quarter of an hour.”

“Where do you think they went?” Harry asked, “And it was at least three quarters of an hour, Gin.”

“Most likely Mum’s, they know they can get biscuits there.” Ginny set down the note and moved her finger to trace his jaw. “Care to join me back in our room?”

“How does James know that spell? It’s a sixth year lesson.”

Ginny changed tactics. She pressed her lips to his chin then to his lips. “We can talk about what our son is doing in his free time later.”

Harry lifted up his piece of toast absentmindedly, his attention on the Daily Prophet in front of him. Another quiet morning. Ever since Lily had left for Hogwarts, the Potter household was more often than not relatively calm. Sure, he and Ginny could throw some raging parties (typically consisting of only them, a bottle of cheap wine, and minimal clothing), but kids seemed to keep a house constantly alive.

“Anything interesting?” Ginny asked, taking a sip from her coffee mug.

“Not really.” Harry snorted at the front cover, as he folded the pages back to a convenient size. “Just Chip having another affair again.”

“Chip Greene? The one who -”

“Who would always flirt and try to get you to go home with him after you played against each other? Yeah.” Harry’s annoyance with the old Cannons player was still higher than a kite. “That Chip.”

“I don’t know why he ever thought I would want to become another notch on his bedpost.” Ginny mused as she cleaned up her breakfast plates. “I doubt he had any clue what he was doing.”

Harry grimaced. Now his mind fell back onto his talks with James and Albus. Merlin, those had been horrible… horrible… It was at that moment Harry’s mind started to connect dots. Ginny had forced Harry to have-- that-- talk with James just after he turned twelve. Same with Albus. Lily had just started her second year at Hogwarts. Her twelfth birthday had been right at the end of her first year… Twelfth birthday…

“Gin?” Harry tried to complete his breathing exercises. Percy’s wife had recommended them after a traumatic case. He needed to stop his mind from jumping off the plank into the shark-infested waters.

“Hmm?”

“Did you and Lily ever have the - ” Harry had to swallow the lump expanding in his throat. “The talk.” He lowered his tone at his final words.

Ginny snorted. “You mean the sex talk?”

Ugh! There were two words he didn’t want to be combined. His daughter and sex. He could only nod.

Damn, he wished he didn’t find that smirk on Ginny’s face so endearing.

“Not yet,” Ginny’s tone matched her amused expression. “I figured we could wait a little longer with Lily. I thought the best moment would be when she got her first period.”

And another word Harry had no desire to hear in relation to his daughter. He let out a breath. At least Lily wouldn’t be dealing with boys yet. It was then that a vivid and dreadful imagine appeared in his head.

His second year… Seamus chatting with Parvati Patil in hopes of getting her to kiss him… he had been twelve… just like Lily and her classmates.

“Ginny, we gotta floo up to Hogwarts.”

Ginny paused her motion of putting the now clean mug into the cupboard, and turned to face him “And why is that?”

“We need - I need -” Harry wasn’t quite sure how to explain that he needed to keep the entire male species away from his daughter without making Ginny roll her eyes. Instead of coming up with a calm, rational explanation he blurted, “I know how they think!”

“How ‘who’ thinks?” Ginny’s was using the tone she used with an upset child.

“Boys,” He spit the word out like venom. “Them and their wandering eyes… I’ll die a third time before any of them looks at my baby like that.”

Ginny’s body started to shake. Harry’s mind, at first, thought she was agreeing with him, that her fear of the heinous boys in Lily’s class made her shiver. This, however, was not the case. Harry’s beautiful, logical wife was shaking with suppressed laughter.

“This is why,” Ginny choked down a giggle, “George calls you a drama queen.”

Harry huffed out a breath. “I never considered that an accurate title.” His fingers started to tap against the table. “We need to get up there and stop any fraternizing.” A cruel thought popped into his head. “If McGonagall talked to them -”

Ginny couldn’t stop her laughter now. “Merlin, Harry! They’re twelve. The worst they’re gonna do is hold hands and maybe kiss once or twice.”

“That’s once or twice too much!”

“You know what, though?” Ginny looked thoughtful. “McGonagall did a good job teaching you. Maybe she should start a sex ed class.”

Harry’s ranting mind came to a sudden halt. “Aw, Ginny. Don’t say things like that!” Chills ran up his spine.

“Like what?” Ginny smirked at him as she took the empty chair beside him. “That McGonagall taught you well? It’s true.” Her expression could only be described as evil. “I guess I should be thanking her for my seventeenth birthday present, huh?”

With a thud, Harry’s forehead collided with the table. He turned his neck so he could make eye contact with his wife. “Ginny! You can’t talk to McGonagall about your seventeenth!”

Ginny clearly wasn’t listening to Harry’s order. “Do you ever wonder how she became so educated in the subject?”

“Ginny.” Harry could hear how whiny his own voice had become, but at that moment he didn’t care. “I’ve become a relatively well-adjusted person all things considered, so I need you to stop trying to hurt me.”

Again, his wife didn’t seem to care about his pleas. “You know what? I bet she was a real hit with the blokes. With that stern attitude and tight bun… then the moment they entered the bedroom and she became a freak in the sheets -”

Harry groaned as he sat up. “Merlin, is this my own version of Hell?”

Ginny leaned over and flicked his nose. “Don’t be such a baby!”

“Wipe my memory, Gin!”

“Seriously?”

“Never mind.” Harry reached across the table to a blank piece of parchment. “I’m Head Auror. I can order a memory removal.”

Ginny snatched the parchment away from him before he could grab a quill. “Harry, you’re almost forty-years-old. You can’t believe McGonagall is still a virgin.”

Harry took his now vacant hands and covered his ears. “Can’t hear you, Gin!”

“So you are a baby.” Ginny shook her head. Then, her eyes sparkled with a look Harry knew all too well. It was the warning sign to some serious cheek. “You know, I wonder if she has any new tips for us.”

“Stop right there!”

Ginny plucked the forgotten quill from Harry’s side and started to write. She read her words loudly, over-pronouncing as she wrote, “Dear Headmistress McGonagall.”

“Ginny I will divorce you,” Harry claimed weakly.

Ginny snorted. “Sure you will, babe.” But she put the quill down and turned back towards him. Her eyes blazed all to attractively. “You won’t be able to resist me after my tutoring sessions with McGonagall. I bet she’s even updated her curriculum, you should ask if her class had a lifelong guarantee.”

“Hey!” Harry protested. “I think I’m rather competent. I certainly didn't hear you complaining last night!”

Ginny gave him a coquettish grin. “Come on, you can’t tell me your not even slightly enticed by,” she confiscated his glasses off his nose, placing them on her own so the lenses made her bright, brown eyes wider than ever, “Professor Weasley.”

“First off, it’s Potter. And second, no.”

Ginny stood from her chair and took up residence in his lap, his hands automatically held her steady by the waist. She moved her mouth up his jaw and to his ear. Harry sucked in a breath as her teeth grazed his earlobe. “While you do exceed expectations, Mr Potter, I think you could benefit from some,” one of her hands threaded into his hair, “One on one lessons.”

Harry couldn’t prevent a moan from escaping his lips as Ginny ran her tongue back down his jawline. “Why - Why are you doing this?”

Ginny leaned back, so Harry could take in her full glory. “You know the glasses are hot.” Her gaze could have melted his insides to mush and her glasses-- his glasses-- Wait a moment.

“When did you transfigure my glasses to look like McGonagall’s?”

“Ah, I knew you’d remember these old things.”

“Ginny!” Harry moaned again, in a different manner this time.

Ginny placed her hand on his cheek, her lips twisted in a small smile. “It’s alright, Harry. I know she was your first love.”

“Please…”

“I mean,” Ginny shrugged, “Who didn’t have a naughty dream about her at least once or twice.”

“Why…”

“Harry, it’s really okay.” She patted his cheek. “I mean, I understand completely. If you could have only seen my dreams of Flitwick,” she made an exaggerated fanning motion her hands, “Hot damn!”

“Ginny, I -” It was then his brain started to comprehend what she had just said. “Wait. What? Flitwick? What the fuck?”

“That was the idea.”

“This is - Flitwick?”

“Don’t get me started on Sprout.”

“Ginny!”

“Merlin, when you got Sinistra out in the moonlight.” Ginny deliberately licked her lips. “Damn.”

“Just -” Harry’s mind had left, unable to keep up with Ginny’s words. “Just - not Snape, right? Please.”

Ginny shook her head, a look of disgust on her face. “Oh no! That snooty upturned nose was such a turn-off, and don’t get me started on his apparent aversion to personal hygiene.” She then smiled dreamily. “But Slughorn. Now there was a potions professor.”

“Well, now you’re just being mean.”

“There was no silly wand waving in that dungeon…” She gave him an appeased look. “They knew what they were doing. Do you think McGonagall taught them too?”

Harry let his forehead fall on her shoulder. “Do you want to never have sex again?”

Ginny let out a dramatic sigh. “Well, if you can’t give me what I need,” she sighed again, “I’ll have to go to the source. Do you think Minerva's free tonight?”

And that was Harry’s limit. “You know what.” He lifted his head, placed his arms underneath Ginny’s legs and lifted her into his arms and then up over his shoulder. “There will be no more of this cheek. We’re not leaving the bedroom until you can’t remember who McGonagall even is.”

Ginny laughed as Harry carried her up the stairs. “Oh big claims there, Potter. I look forward to your practical exam.”

#hinny #hinny fic #hinny fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fan fiction #harry X ginny #gryffindormischief #celtics534 #finesse

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glitteryexhaustion · 6 years ago

Text

Sunday, Monday, or Always (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Prompt: You are at the Stark Expo with Steve and Bucky in 1943.

Warning(s): slight angst, slight fluff

Word Count: 2522

Song(s): Sunday, Monday, or Always by Bill Cosby

Author’s Note: I haven’t posted in over a year and a half. I wrote this about 10 months ago and never got around to posting it. I hope you all like it, and I have hopes of writing more soon. :)

“I don’t see what the problem is,” a voice in front of me said to his friend. “You’re about to be the last eligible man in New York.” I recognized them instantly, and pushed through the crowd to get to them. “You know, there’s three and a half million women here?” I interjected, pushing myself between the two boys. Bucky reached up and ruffled my hair, and I shoved his hand away, laughing. “Well, I’d settle for just one,” Steve replied while hugging me. I smiled back, then noticed the pain in his eyes. I reached around and squeezed his shoulder, and he gave me a weak smile. It was easy to see he attempted, and failed, to enlist again. He wanted to fight, but I was glad he hadn’t been accepted. His health would get him killed quickly. “Good thing I took care of that,” Bucky said, drawing me out of my thoughts. He waved up ahead to two girls standing near a statue. I rolled my eyes, wondering who Bucky’s latest girl was. He always chose dimwitted girls, who were pretty and naive. “What’d you tell her about me?” Steve asked, sounding agitated. “Only the good stuff.” He smirked. Moving in front of us, he wrapped his arm around the brunette girl’s waist. My stomach dropped, but I pulled myself together and kept going. The blonde girl clung to her friend’s side as they walked ahead of us to the main stage. Steve moved forward to get next to her, but she didn’t pay any attention to him. I sighed, knowing it was going to be a long night. “Hey Steve, what do you say we treat these girls...” Bucky’s voice trailed off as he realized Steve was gone. I’d been so fascinated by the flying car, I hadn’t noticed either. He looked over at me, irritated. “Where did he go?” He asked me. “Weren’t you paying attention?” “Um, it’s not my job to watch him,” I retorted. “Besides, he can do what he wants. He doesn’t have to stay around with those airheads.” Bucky raised his eyebrows, then shook his head. “We gotta find him,” he insisted. “He could be getting beat up again, or somethin’ else.” I nodded, and he began to come with me. The girls started to whine, and he turned back to them. After whispering something to them, they giggled and moved back to the front of the crowd. As he made his way back over, I gave him a look. He just shrugged and grinned, his eyes twinkling. We started to push through the crowd, him leading the way. People began to shove at us on every side. All I could do was focus on Bucky; the only other option was to be trampled. I kept my eyes on him, so much that I stumbled over somebody’s foot. He turned around to check that I was okay. With what happened next, I don’t really know why he did it. Maybe he saw I was nervous, maybe he just didn’t want me to get lost. Either way, I was surprised when he reached back and grabbed my hand. He squeezed it as we kept walking. I felt my heart speed up for a split second, but I shook my head and continued to move. We finally made it out of the crowd, and I relaxed some. I looked around for Steve, for anywhere he could have gone. Then it hit me. “Is there something here about enlisting, or any promotion area?” I asked Bucky. He nodded, and began to lead me to a building in the middle of the expo. It wasn’t until we got there that he let go of my hand. He opened the door for me, and I saw Steve up ahead. I pushed away all the thoughts about Bucky for a second, and hurried over to Steve. He was stepping on a pedestal, which activated a light that showed the person’s face on a soldier’s body. He was so short, only half of his face showed. “Steve,” I said softly, touching his arm. There wasn’t much to say. I knew what he was going to do, and I couldn’t stop him. Turning to me, the look on his face just made me feel so afraid. He wants this more than anything, and it’s how he’s always been: doing whatever it takes to help others. I can’t change his mind. Stepping off the pedestal, he pulled my hand off. “Come on,” Bucky groaned, appearing behind us. “You’re kind of missing the point of a double date. We’re taking the girls dancing.” “You go ahead, I’ll catch up with you,” Steve countered, moving further toward the enlistment area. “You’re really going to do this again?” I asked shakily. Bucky reached over and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. He knew how scared I was of Steve getting hurt. I leaned into him, trying to ignore my stomach flipping. Steve is my focus. “Well it’s a fair,” he told us, straightening his posture. “I’m gonna try my luck.” “As who, Steve from Ohio?” Bucky fired back, his voiced laced with fear. “They’ll catch you. Or worse, they’ll actually take you.” “Look, I know you don’t think I can do this,” Steve pleaded, trying to make us understand. “This isn’t a back alley, Steve. It’s war.” “I know it’s a war.” “Why are you so keen to fight anyways? There are so many other important jobs.” “Well, what do you want him to do?” I interjected. “Collect scrap metal in his little red wagon?” Bucky looked over at me, frustration and concern all over his face. “Yes, why not?” He responded. “Bucky, come on,” Steve said desperately. “There are men laying down their lives.” “He has no right to do any less than them,” I added quietly. Bucky stared at me like I had betrayed him. I gave him a look, then continued. “You know as well as I do, this isn’t about him.” Bucky just looked around, helpless. I reached up and grabbed his hand that was still on my shoulder, trying to calm him down. When I looked back up at him again, something passed between us. As I was about to say something, a shrill voice behind us cut into our moment. “Hey, Sarge! Are we going dancing?” Bucky turned around, his arm falling off of me. Internally groaning, I looked back over at the idiotic girls, who were giggling and falling into each other. “Yes, we are,” he replied, grinning. He turned back to Steve and I. “Don’t do anything stupid until I get back,” Bucky told him, walking away. “How can I?” Steve retaliated. “You’re taking all the stupid with you.” Bucky stopped, and turned back. “You’re a punk,” he said, pulling him into a hug. “Jerk,” Steve responded, wrapping his arms around Bucky. “Be careful.” When they let go, Bucky turned to me. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his chest. My arms ended up against him, and he rested his chin on top of my head. “Please be careful,” I whispered. “You too,” he whispered back. Bucky leaned down a little and kissed my forehead, then let go. He held my hand until he was too far, then headed back over to the girls. “Don’t win the war until I get there!” Steve called out after him. Bucky turned around, and saluted him. A small smile crossed his face. He winked at me, and vanished into the crowd.

Steve looked over at me as I kept staring out at everyone, looking for one last glimpse of him. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on,” he said softly. I whipped back around to see him grinning at me. Playfully punching his arm, I looked at the ground. “It doesn’t matter anymore, huh?” I sighed, feeling dejected. Moving to a bench, I flopped down. Steve sat next to me, and I leaned into him. He put his arm around me. My head found his shoulder, and we just stayed like that for a few minutes. “Steve?” “Yeah?” “For the love of God, if you do go-“ “I promise I’ll stay safe.” “Swear on it?” “On my mother’s grave.” “Good. I can’t lose my brother.” “Geez, how would you treat me if we actually were related?” “You’re more important than my actual brother.” He laughed, and I sat up straight. Wrapping my arms around him, I pulled him in for a real hug. I held him as tight as I could, so scared to let go. “Steve,” I spoke, my voice quivering. “I know you don’t want me to, but-“ Steve said, pulling me closer. “But I know you got to.” “I love you, y/n/n.” “I love you too, Steve. And I’ll be here, whether you’re shipped off for a few years or you come back in half an hour.” I felt him nod, then he pulled away. He got up, and walked to the enlistment room. When he got to the doorway, Steve turned and waved. I waved back, and watched him disappear into the room for another attempt at enlistment. Now, I was all by myself. Talk about fun. Even though it’s late, the party has only just begun. With people shipping out tomorrow, nobody wants to leave. Lots of people are dancing. The music is loud, the lights are bright, and the people are happy. It’s kind of nice to watch. I’m on the side, near one of the booths. The owner of this invention must be out dancing, since their section was empty. Laughter was everywhere, as people sang and celebrated the night. “Hey, y/n/n, what are you doing?” A voice asked. I nearly fell out of my chair. On my left, Bucky was now sitting in the chair next to me, laughing. “Jesus, you scared the crap out of me!” I yelled, shoving him. “I can tell,” he said. His eyes were twinkling again, crinkled up as his mouth stretched across his face in a huge smile. “But really, y/n,” he continued, “what are you doing over here? Why aren’t you dancing?” “Is that really a question you have to ask?” I retorted, playing with my fingers. I could feel his eyes on me, and my face was warming up. “There are plenty of people here who would kill to dance with you.” “Maybe I don’t want to dance with them.” “Well, why don’t you dance with me?” My head shot up and I looked at him. He smirked, stood up, and held out his hand. “What about those other girls?” I questioned. “I don’t want to dance with them,” he mumbled, looking at the ground. “I wanna dance with you.” My heart was racing. I slipped my hand into his, and stood up. Bucky looked at me and smiled softly. He lead me into the crowd, just as Bill Cosby’s Sunday Monday or Always began to play.

Oh, won't you tell me when We will meet again Sunday, Monday or always

Bucky pulled me close to him. I brought my left hand up onto his shoulder, and his right arm wrapped around my waist. With his other hand, he laced his fingers into mine. We moved slowly to the music.

If you're satisfied I'll be at your side Sunday, Monday or always

He began to sing along softly as we danced. I had never really heard him sing, but he had a nice voice. I rested my head on his chest.

No need to tell me now What makes the world go 'round When at the sight of you My heart begins to pound and pound And what am I to do Can't I be with you Sunday, Monday or always

He let go of my waist and twirled me. I laughed as Bucky pulled me back to him. His arms went to my waist, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. We moved closer, so close I had to make sure I didn’t step on his feet.

Oh, won't you tell me when We will meet again Sunday, Monday or always

As we danced, I couldn’t help but feel somewhat depressed. This would be the last time I would see him for a while, possibly forever. Our feet stopped moving, and we just swayed to the music. I rested my head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. It was fast, almost as fast as my own heart.

If you're satisfied I'll be at your side Sunday, Monday or always

Bucky touched the side of my face, and I looked up at him. He looked troubled, almost distressed. “Y/n, tell me what you’re thinking,” he said. I swallowed, and quietly answered: “I don’t want you to leave me.”

No need to tell me now What makes the world go 'round When at the sight of you My heart begins to pound, pound, pound

“I wish I could stay,” he murmured. “You know I don’t want to leave you behind.” “Bucky,” I sighed, slightly frustrated. “You don’t understand how hard it’s going to be without you.”

“You’ll never get how much I’ll miss you,” he replied. Looking up at him, I realized this may be my last chance. The song was almost over. It was now or never.

What am I to do Can't I be with you Sunday, Monday or always

I pulled him toward me me and kissed him. My hands went to his hair, down to his arms, then up to his neck. His hand that had been on my check had moved slightly back, holding me in place. His other arm had wrapped around my back, pulling me up against him. He didn’t want to let go, and I didn’t want this to end.

I tried to memorize his lips, the feeling, the sparks lighting up between us. Instead, I got lost in the moment. Everything around us had gone silent, and all that mattered was him. The way his lips moved, the way he tasted, the feeling of his hands, the passion exploding between us, it was all so much to handle. When we finally broke apart, our foreheads connected. We were both breathing hard, trying to collect ourselves. Finally, Bucky spoke.

“You have no idea,” he whispered, panting still, “how long I’ve waited for that.” “You’d think that the soldier would’ve been brave enough to make the first move,” I laughed. He grinned, then pulled me in for another hug. “You know I still have to go,” he reminded me. “It’s still Sunday, though,” I replied, my voice slightly muffled from the position I was in. “Do I have to start singing, or will you stay with me tonight?” He chuckled, then let go. Taking my hand, we headed out of the expo. All the while, Bucky sang:

No need to tell me now What makes the world go 'round When at the sight of you My heart begins to pound and pound And what am I to do Can't I be with you Sunday, Monday or always

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