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austarus · 3 years ago

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HR Wells x Reader - Reversal of Denouement

*A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me. It belongs to its rightful owner.

**Please don’t forget to comment, like, and reblog. It means a lot to content creators of all kinds!

***I’d also like to thank @grimtamlain-writes for being my beta reader.

Word Count: 8251

MASTERLIST

A low groan left HR's lips. His body felt numb, his chest ached - tingled as his heart beats steadily. Is it beating? The darkness of his eyelids eased the stinging coming from his mind – it wasn’t so bright. The headache formed there. His body screamed at him as the novelist made the slightest of movement. His left shoulder in particular had protested in desperate agony. He couldn’t move it very much, the area succumbed to restraints of some sort. HR’s throat felt raw as his body throbbed, the blood coursing meticulously through his blood vessels. The sound of a soft voice greeted his ears, but his eyes refused to open.

"I... you, HR... even if... see it." The voice was so familiar, so gentle. So sweet. "Should... better." A drop of water hit his numbed hand, static still prominent there from the little movement his body had done. “I wish…” The dark-haired doppelganger could only understand fragments of what the speaker was saying. He felt a pressure on his hand, tender skin holding onto his before something tickled his forehead. Feather-light. What was it? Who was it? A few moments passed and he heard nothing, the novelist only assumed that the voice’s owner had left. He didn’t want to be alone right now though, not with the darkness.

It had become unbearable.

Since... Since when did…? How...? Oh. Right. Savitar... Am I dead? Is this where spirits wait for their turn to pass into their designated afterlife? Have I really...? Events from earlier resurfaced to his mind, his senses coming together. Right, had to protect Iris. For Barry – it was my fault Savitar had gotten to her. My big mouth. Even if Barry didn't really see me as a helpful friend. At least... At least I proved Savitar wrong, who ironically is a version of Barry. That's hella twisted. He huffed out a breath before venturing back into the calmness of sleep. Maybe a little more rest will help?

***

HR cracked an eye open: this time, harsh filtered light had greeted him. The novelist grunted in pain, adjusting himself slightly to assess where he was. What day was it? What was the time? How long have I been here? A yawn left his lips this time, his throat and mouth as dry as a desert.

“Well look who finally decided to wake up?” HR’s eyes met Cisco’s, who stood with a tablet in hand. “How’s sleeping beauty feeling?”

The Wells doppelganger cleared his throat. “Like I’ve gotten assaulted by an Amtrack bus, and not the good kinds.” HR’s baby blue eyes scanned the room, landing on the flower vase that was set on a table near him. Blue forget-me-knots and pink hydrangeas stood proudly in their vases, nurtured well. HR felt his heart swell, his eyes not daring to leave the delicate petals that accented the med bay in better tones. Cisco handed him a cup of water to which HR downed it immediately.

“Amtrack does trains.”

“Not on my Earth, Francisco.” The author couldn’t help but ask, his eyes lingering on the flowers once more. “Did Tracy bring those?”

Cisco pursed his lips, an odd look present on his face. He wanted to tell HR, but… “No. Um, she didn’t.” Tracy had been visiting, though it had become some sort of a nuisance to all her complaining at this point. She hadn’t even known HR for that long, anyway.

“Oh?” His shoulders dropped subtly in disappointment. “They’re beautiful, I was just wondering and…”

“Let’s just say, a special someone’s been… dropping by and bringing a new flower each day. That’s all you’re getting from me, Aurora.” Cisco reasoned with the Wells doppelganger. The mechanical genius knew, but it wasn’t his place to say. It killed him, but… “I wouldn’t move around too much, if I were you. You’ve got a fractured shoulder and that chest wound. I’ve been told to relay the message that you’re to be on strict bed rest until that shoulder further heals.” HR lowered his gaze to see the cross-body sling. He clenched his slinged hand and unclenched it to bring some feeling into the limb.

“What about my chest?”

“Miraculously, that’s been healing really well since day one.” Cisco kept the talk real, showing the injured doppelganger the schematics and pictures. “You got lucky that it missed your heart by a centimeter.” A stab wound like that should have… I wonder if she knows that I know.

HR blinked at the seriousness in his injury, the looming idea of death from his decision. “How long was I out?”

“A week and a half.”

“What?” HR’s eyes widened in disbelief. “I-”

“HR!” Tracy’s sudden voice pierced the room, stunning Cisco and triggering an ache in HR’s head. The grad scientists shuffled over to him, both forgetting that Cisco was in the room. “HR, my love, how are you? Are you feeling okay? Is there any pain?” He continued checking his friend’s vitals and adjusting dosages to the IV and morphine administered – as per your request. The room was growing ever louder with HR and Tracy. Tracy embraced him, minding his injuries as she continued to fuss over him. It made the Wells writer smile, yet… his heart didn’t swell as much as it used to.

Odd.

Cisco sent you a quick text while the two were preoccupied, but you were already at the Labs. You stopped just outside the entrance, the wall and dimly light hallway obscuring you from who remained in the med bay. They wouldn’t be able to see you from where you stood. A shaky breath left you as you clutched the Freesia flower in hand. Your heart shriveled in your chest as you backtracked. Hearing his voice is enough. After all, with Tracy around you couldn’t be near him – those dirty and hateful looks she’d send you. Best to keep my distance, I guess. You couldn’t help but sneak a peek at him though, the man who had unknowingly captured your heart and would never reciprocate your love. You pushed down the lump in your throat. Hastily, you sent Cisco a text to check on the flowers. Silently, you trailed away from the med bay and to the upper levels of STAR Labs. I wonder if he liked the flowers. Standing at such altitude with the wind blowing lightly had calmed you a bit. Looking down at the flower, you gripped it tightly before you began to pick off the petals one by one. The little moments you had with the goofy novelist surfaced to the forefront of your mind with each petal you held. Your little curious escapades. The little talks. The nights you’d visit him when Tracy wasn’t around.

“He loves me, he loves me not,” You murmured, a stray tear trickled down your cheek. The freesia symbolizes unconditional love and honor. “He loves me, he loves me not,” Your voice cracked as more tears fell. “He loves me, he loves me not…”

***

A frown presented itself on HR’s lips as he tilted his head to crack his neck. The crack relieved him tremendously. It didn’t make sense. The novelist mused to himself, setting aside the current chapter draft he was working on. The voice I heard was… different. It didn’t sound like Tracy’s. HR couldn’t get that voice out of his mind – the tenderness that was laced in the tone of that voice. Nothing like the slight shrill in Tracy’s. He eyed the flowers once more that day, their presence was prominent. If Tracy hadn’t brought those, then who had?

The team had helped situate HR in his room in order to vacate the med bay should another imminent event occur. He had overheard Cisco tell Wally that you were preoccupied with something in Star City – a bit of disappointment twinged inside him. HR had taken up doing bits of physical therapy for the rest of his body without moving his shoulder as much. His shoulder and arm remained in a crossbody sling. The flowers sat on his bedside counter; he tended to them as best as he could with the limited movement he had. Tracy protested that they don’t need to be around, but the novelist was vehement on keeping the plants. HR won’t deny the fact that he had gotten annoyed several times with her around when he needed thinking space for his writing. He couldn’t write with noise and nonsensical chatter, especially if it’s mainly coming from someone who doesn’t want to really listen to his input. She’d go on and on about her scientific research and such, but wouldn’t hear a word from HR regarding his writing. The longer the novelist was confined to his room for rest, the more he had time to think – to contemplate. Yes, he liked Tracy, but… it just seemed that she didn’t really see HR. She does all the talking; she doesn’t really ask about how I feel about things or ask me about my life, even things about Earth-19… It’s like she doesn’t see me for anything other than a pretty face. It’s not even my face that Tracy sees, just Randolph’s. Was I too quick to jump at the first person who showed interest in me? Had I rushed into ‘forever’ with her?

He tabled those thoughts for now. HR reached for his laptop; one hand opened it to start it up. While the device loaded, he grabbed his black-clear glasses and set them on his face. If anyone saw him as such, they wouldn’t be able to tell the physical difference between him and his handsome, yet grumpy doppelganger. Except for the eyebrow scar, but that was obscured by the glasses. HR did a couple of searches with a concentrated look. Surely, it was the person with that… angel-like voice.

“Hydrangeas,” HR whispered as his eyes skimmed over the text that had popped up. “The hydrangea represents gratitude, grace and beauty. It also radiates abundance because of the lavish number of flowers and the generous round shape. Its colors symbolize love, harmony and peace.” The Wells doppelganger scrolled further. “Pink hydrangeas symbolize heartfelt emotions.” Interesting. HR continued his research, glancing at the other flower type that resting in the vase. “Forget-me-nots symbolize true love and respect. When you give someone these tiny blooms, it represents a promise that you will always remember them and will keep them in your thoughts. They are also considered a symbol of fidelity and faithfulness.” A particular link caught his eye, he clicked on it. The novelist read to himself the text once more, “Based on Christian lore, the story about forget-me-nots is that God was walking in the Garden of Eden. He saw a blue flower and asked it its name. The flower was a shy flower and whispered that he had forgotten his name. God renamed the flower as forget-me-not saying that He will not forget the flower.”

HR swallowed thickly; contrary to popular belief around here, he wasn’t stupid. Sure, he wasn’t a science-based genius, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t an expert on other aspects of life and had basic common sense. The author was emotionally intelligent and intact with the world around him. These flowers weren’t picked out on accident. But who would do that? Who doesn’t want me to forget about them? The dark-haired man shook his head slightly as he shut his laptop. A surge of sadness welled inside him at the notion of ‘being forgotten’. Who had he done that to? He’d get to the bottom of this mystery in due time. Right now, I need to jog my memory on what I was writing. A hand found a rough draft paper, his eyes scanned over the words he had typed out. His brows creased as the written notes he’d made on the paper as well. (Y/N) … I had… What had I been writing about again? The novelist read each line, each note he had made no drafts and scratch paper.

The hairs at the back of his neck stood up as realization hit him the more he had read on. The drafts, the notes, all of it – the little novel he had been writing regarding his adventures. But this particular part of his story – the ‘angel’ in his story. The one who stuck by him since coming here, the one who had given him a safe space… And the one he hadn’t seen since waking up. How could he forget? HR lowered the paper; his eyes became half-lidded as guilt shot through him. Before Barry had gone to the future and gotten hints of Tracy with her Speed Bazooka, HR had been working on his book. A book that he had pushed off to stick with Tracy and help in any way that he can to make the speed weapon possible. He had gotten distracted from doing the things he loves. A few conjectures arose in his mind as he slipped his glasses off, one arm end pressed to his lips. His heart hammered into his chest; you were among the last faces he had seen before passing out that night.

The irony. How could I forget that (Y/N) was the ‘angel’ in my story?

***

“Look at you, up and at ‘em.” Cisco strolled into the lounge with a cheeky grin. The mechanical genius didn’t take HR for granted anymore, not with the stunt he pulled. No, Cisco willingly checked up on him – not just for you, but for himself. HR had truly become one of his close friends in the end, especially with all the advice about Gypsy. “What are you cooking up this time?”

“Just an omelet with a side of bacon and toast, Francisco,” HR turned to the mechanical engineer who continued to tinker away at the schematics to get Barry out of the Speedforce. He offered Cisco some with a gesture only for the scientist to politely decline. “I haven’t seen (Y/N) anywhere. Um, is she also…?”

“Oh, you know how she’s like. Either up in the vents or chilling in her birds’ nest on the roof. And on that note, our resident hummingbird has become quite the firecracker.”

HR raised an eyebrow at his friend. “How so?”

“She punched Savitar square in the face then decked him multiple times over when Barry brought him in. Harry had to be the one to pull her away – well, more like carry her away kicking and screaming bloody murder at him. It sounded badass; wish I had been there to see it.”

The Wells doppelganger gritted his teeth at the mental image of Harry carrying you – touching you. The thought ruffled his feathers for some reason. HR expertly masked his irritation, turning the stove off and assembling the food on his plate. “Why?”

“Because he hurt you, HR.”

“…”

“He almost killed you.” And that was unforgivable, especially to her. “We almost lost you. She almost lost you.”

A rough sigh escaped HR as Cisco had sent him a knowing look before exiting the STAR Labs lounge. The Earth-19 man chewed on the inside of his cheek. Only a fool would misunderstand Cisco’s subtle intentions. HR knew what he had to do – he’d been reflecting on his time here, thinking about the people around him, about the relationships he’s formed. The novelist glanced outside – the sun shined, the birds chirped, and the trees rustled with the wind.

And the world continues to move on.

***

“When are you going to tell him?”

“…” You tensed at the abrupt voice. You snapped your head up, eyes darting to find Cisco approaching you with pocketed hands in his gray-black jacket. He wore a Bulbasaur shirt. The clouds surged by with the intensity of the breeze. Your hair blew over your shoulders slightly. Tilting your head, you turned back to watch the city. Days had passed and you refused to see HR, content on what Cisco had been telling you. He’d been recovering tremendously well, but… you didn’t really want to hear about what he and Tracy were up to. It wounded you. “Tell who, what?”

“You know exactly who I’m talking about, Ms. I’m-going-to-put-my-feelings-in-a-box.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ohohohoho, no. I am tired of the love eyes, the lingering gazes, the pining. It ends.” Your best friend came to sit down next to you with that frustrated look on his face. “I know you have powers.” Your heart stopped in your chest at his accusation. “I know you used your powers to heal HR.” You bit down on your lip, not wanting to validate his statement. Cisco saw “I analyzed the wounds, looked at his healing at a microscopic level. I’m not Caitlin, but even I can pick up a few things. His cells were excelled to heal, but there were residues of your genetic markers at the wound point. You stitched his wounds together, cell-by-cell. My point is: why didn’t you say anything? Your powers are a-”

“-A curse.”

“What?”

“They’re a curse.” You threw a hard look at Cisco, making sure your hands wouldn’t touch him. “I can’t be playing God, Cisco. And… it’s unpredictable, volatile. I could either heal the life in my hands or take it away. I could rip someone ‘cell-by-cell’, Cisco. There’s no ‘in between’, not this time. He got lucky with my powers. He got lucky I didn’t make things 100% irreversible.”

“But why didn’t you say anything?” Cisco eyed the gloves you wore; it wasn’t the season for leather gloves.

“Because I didn’t want to give anyone false hope.”

“You don’t want to give yourself false hope, you mean.”

“…I can’t even heal a plant, Cisco. No matter how hard I tried, it wilted further. It’s a curse.”

“That’s not guaranteed every time, you know. It takes practice – discipline to get your powers to work with you instead of for you.” He nudged your shoulder with his, turning his gaze to the flock of birds drifting through the wind. “You know, he broke up with Tracy.”

“Ok?”

“Happened a week ago. She didn’t take it well and let me tell you. Tracy Brand was livid – the rage and yelling were off the charts. I think she has Harry beat. I knew it wasn’t going to last anyway, it was too superficial to begin with.”

“Uh huh.” You tried to sound uninterested, but deep down you were relieved. You heard a little ring in your ear. You wondered…

“She’s gone, won’t be coming here anymore.

“Ok.”

“So, go make your move.”

You turned abruptly to face him. “Cisco, have you thought that maybe HR doesn’t want to dive into a relationship right away? That… maybe he needs space to focus on himself?” All were things you had contemplated for yourself before.

“And what better way to do that than with a new roommate.”

“Excuse me?”

“Surprise, you’re getting a temporary roommate while we fully fix up things around the labs. I volunteered you since you have the space and the patience to deal with HR.” Your blood froze in your veins.

“Francisco Ramon, I am going to-”

“-Thank me, you’re going to thank me.” He had already breached away before you had the chance to strangle him. Heat rushed to your cheeks at the idea of HR living with you, even if it was a temporary living arrangement. You scolded your heart for beating loudly in your chest. One hand gripped tightly to your other. An audible sigh escaped you as your mind played with the idea.

Shit, what am I going to do?

***Day 1***

Cisco blew out an exhausted breath, setting down another box on top of a box in the guest room. You and the mechanical genius had been breaching back and forth with HR’s things as said novelist was crippled. His arm would take about another four weeks to heal. About 20 percent of shoulder fractures are displaced and may require some type of manipulation to restore normal anatomy. Occasionally the rotator cuff muscles are injured or torn at the same time as the fracture. Fortunately for HR, his rotator cuff muscles weren’t as damaged. This can further complicate the treatment. Therefore, in that time, HR would just be handling the lighter stuff, bless his heart. The novelist entered the room with his black backpack slung over his functioning shoulder – it was the last thing that he could carry.

“I think there’s one more box left,” HR pointed with his thumb towards his back direction, the breach closing behind him.

“I’ll go get it, not a problem. Why don’t you two get started on unpacking, huh?” HR shrugged with one shoulder and stepped away to set his bag down by the bed. Cisco threw a cheeky look your way when HR had his back turned, his eyebrows wiggling. ‘Have fun love birds,’ the scientist had mouthed at you. You flicked him off with a deadpanned look. Instantly you dropped it when the Wells doppelganger turned as Cisco snickered before he breached away. He gave you a confused look, but you waved it off.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For allowing me to stay obviously. And for all the help since I’m, well, a bit tangled up at the moment.”

He was referring to the cross-body sling that clung onto him like a spider. HR rubbed the back of his neck, and you didn’t miss the way his bicep flexed at the motion in that gray short-sleeve shirt. Calm the fuck down, it’s just a toned muscle. You’ve seen things like that before. The puppy-like smile HR sent you had your cheeks warming up. The gentle smile that made your heart melt all over again. You cleared your throat as you reached for a box. “It’s no big deal, HR.” Undoing the tape seal with scissors, you opened the box- and the first thing you see are a pair of handcuffs accompanied by a silky black blindfold.

“What’s in the box?”

A little noise left you as you shut the flaps of the box, trying to seal it again. The flaps remained downward in the box. “Nope, nothing. Just some clothes here. I’m going to get that one box from the living room.” You had backtracked right into the door, your nose throbbed in response at the collision. “Ow,” you muttered to yourself, rubbing the skin.

“You ok?”

“I’m fine,” your response was quick, but not rude. A deep chuckle made its way to your ears as you scrambled out the room, your heart hammering in your chest. Your thoughts scolded you for being so awkward and flustered around him. Be cool, just chill out… The man you’re hopelessly in love with is just living with you temporarily, it’s not like anything will amount from this. You picked up the last box in the living room, hoping that just clothes would be in here and not anymore kink toys. I mean… I have toys, too. AW SHIT, I HAVE TO HIDE THEM!

HR’s eyes never left you as you made your panicked exit. He let out a little breath before shuffling over to the box you had been attending to. Immediately, he face-palmed hard when he had opened it with one hand. His face felt impossibly hot at what you had seen. She must think I’m an idiot or something. His mind thought back to when you helped him shop for some new clothes then it had gotten ruined from a meta. His hand fell away from his face, the image of your kind grin imprinted in his mind. I am an idiot, though. A fool.

Once Cisco returned, you three continued unpacking HR’s things for the time he’d spend here. The labs were still in ‘piss-poor’ shape according to Cisco and that he’ll need to consult with Harry and Wally regarding repairs.

“HR, how are you showering?”

“Um, like a normal person?” A dumbfounded look crossed HR’s features as he set the plate of sandwiches down. The novelist had knitted his eyebrows at Cisco. He had taken up to experimenting in the kitchen when he wasn’t writing. The tea and coffee were still brewing in your kitchen.

“No, I mean with how your shoulder is injured,” Cisco snuck an evil look at you, you returned it with a glare, “must be hard handling it alone.” You knew exactly where this dumbass wanted to take this conversation, so you stayed silent as to not get caught in the crossfire.

HR thought to himself for a moment. “Just a bit, but I’ve gotten used to the mild discomforts and pain. I can mostly reach everything thanks to my long limbs. But I think the nice thing is that it’s an internal issue, not an external one. An external injury or wound would require me to really have help with showering that way the area doesn’t get infected or irritated with the contents of soaps.” A laugh fell from his lips, but his mind wondered what his friend was playing at while you were around.

“I’m just saying, if you ever need a hand well,” Cisco trailed off with a smirk, chomping on his third sandwich.

Oh, I see. Devious, but a futile effort. “I’ll make sure you’re the first one I ask for help,” HR teased with a smirk of his own for Cisco to drop his in disgust. A cough escaped you, which had HR’s eyes land on you. Your eyes met for a moment before you deviated your gaze. HR felt hypnotized for a moment. Hm… The engineer quickly recovered from HR’s snide remark.

“Alright kids, I’ll be going now. The labs require some diligent work that I, a capable and distinguished engineer, could only do.”

“Yet, we still have the occasional security issues,” You sipped your tea once the snarky comment was out. HR stifled a chuckle, but you heard it. The corners of your mouth lifted slightly at the notion.

“Hey, that’s not fair. They always come up with something new to invade our space by.” Cisco pointed a finger at you, mocking a hurtful expression on his face. It dropped into a sneaky smile. “Make good choices and always use protection, you two!” He breached away before you could throw your cup at him.

***Multiple Days Pass***

Through his time here, you noticed HR fueled to write what’s on his mind in the guest room. You could only assume that he continued his adventure story. Sometimes he would venture out for some coffee or take a walk to give his creativity a break. Keeping that in mind, you gave HR the space he needed as well as all noises to a minimum. You knew he liked the quiet atmosphere to pour his heart and soul into words as he did research for a scene. Pulling your jacket on, you compiled a list of groceries before you stepped out of your apartment. Locking the door, you headed out to the store picking up a few necessities as well as some snacks for HR. Like Harry, the novelist can easily lose himself in his task – which meant that he tended to forget about eating and such. You found a bag of Jitters coffee beans, adding it to your cart of items. Buying some snacks and fruit, you’d leave a note in the kitchen of the snacks when he emerged from his writing cave.

On the way back, you stopped by at Iris’ studio to check up on her. A few groceries for her as well were in hand. Cecile and you did your best to visit Iris. But you can’t deny that you blamed her to a certain extent. Had she spoken up once she had left Savitar’s place disguised as HR, HR wouldn’t have been hurt that night on Infantino Street. Surely, she could have contacted her father or Cisco or something. The transition could have been smoother. HR wouldn’t have been… The journalist was faring; she pushed through the pain and as Barry had told her ‘to keep living’. So, Iris did. She hadn’t been herself since Barry went into the Speedforce – she pushed too much, the smile wouldn’t reach her eyes sometimes. You sympathized; she lost the love of her life. But you almost had too.

“How are you?”

“I’m fine, just… taking it one day at a time.” You nodded at her response, a small smile on your face. “How are things with you and HR? I heard of the temporary living conditions.”

“It’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m in my bubble and he’s in his doing his writing.”

“Right. Nothing going on whatsoever?”

“Iris.”

Iris set her cup of hot chocolate down and raised both hands in mock defeat. “We all saw it. We all see it.”

“See what?”

“How smitten you are for him.”

“I’m not-”

“-Don’t say you’re not. If you weren’t you, Harry wouldn’t have to pry you off Savitar before you clawed his eyes out.”

“…” You just looked into your tea, the honey that settled at the bottom. Iris placed a sympathetic hand on your shoulder, but you didn’t look at her.

“The heart will want what it wants, (Y/N). Pushing your feelings into a box and denying it out loud won’t change things.”

“I know.”

And my heart wants him, over and over again. Even if he can’t see me.

***

HR tapped his pencil against the desk at a steady pace. His mind wouldn’t focus on the words in front of him, on the scene he wanted to set. Instead, it kept drifting further from it. Further towards you: your eyes, your smile, the kindness that you held; the serenity that your existence held as the world continued to turn and chaos had unfolded at each turn. HR didn’t see much of you while he was here, the novelist missed your company. You were here, but you weren’t really here. You were either in your room or at the balcony with a book or on the couch with your Switch. He didn’t want to bother you, but… sometimes HR just wanted to sit beside you and pull you close to talk. To hold you in his arms and ask you about your day, to understand what you were thinking. HR cracked his back in a stretch from where he sat on his bed, being mindful of his injured shoulder. It didn’t hurt as it had originally done a few weeks back. The Wells doppelganger noticed that you were careful to avoid touching him or him touching you. Not even a hug that you used to graciously give him. You were especially guarded with your hands. A rough sigh left him as he threw his pencil down. The frustration was setting in, he was getting nowhere. You consumed his thoughts. HR wondered if you were revolted by him but doesn’t verbalize his thoughts to you. He didn’t think you’d give him your truthful answer. Maybe she is revolted by me. She did find the cuffs and the blindfold… No, she knew about the cuff stage thing well before that.

The sound of the front door greeted his ears followed by the soft tune of music. A frown made its way onto his face. Might as well take a break. HR stretched once more when he fully stood up, a little noise of relief left his lips. He cracked his back once more before smelling himself. For safe measure, the novelist sprayed a bit of cologne on himself and turned off the candle he had on. He mentally noted to take a shower after dinner since his last was yesterday. He liked the feeling of being clean, to be honest. HR carded a hand through his hair. I need a haircut soon, too. Yeesh, I feel like I’m letting myself go. Once I’m all healed it’s back to proper cuts and the labs’ recreation room. He wanted to go back to lifting weights and doing yoga for body stability purposes – especially now because of his shoulder. HR rested a hand on his chest, the wound had healed completely, but a scar remained. Upon entering the kitchen, he saw the groceries on the table and heard you whisper along with the lyrics. The music was set to a low level that your whispers were audible enough. He watched you sway a bit with the tune.

So please don't break my heart

Don't tear me apart

I know how it starts

Trust me I've been broken before

Don't break me again

I am delicate

Please don't break my heart

Trust me I've been broken before

The guitar tune pulled at his heart, feeling the raw emotion behind the lyrics. He eyed you for a moment. HR cleared his throat to make his presence known, he knew you didn’t like to be snuck up on. However, a little gasp left you from where you were. “You went out shopping?”

You looked up from where you crouched to put away the cereal. “Uh yeah, we were running low on some stuff.” You shut the cabinet and went to the other items you had bought. The music continued to delicately play.

“Need any help?”

“Um, sure. Uh, just set these into the cabinet on the left.” Normal, be normal. He’s not going to eat you or anything. Distance is good. Distance keeps you safe. You didn’t meet his eyes, the eyes that’d pull you in and never let you out – your heart shook with him here and the song that played. You were hoping HR wouldn’t come out while you prepped dinner to have a sort of peace of mind. The next song played before you could stop it-

My last made me feel like I would never try again

But when I saw you, I felt something I never felt

Come closer, I'll give you all my love

If you treat me right, baby, I'll give you everything

“I like this song,” HR started as he was finishing up with putting his side of the groceries away. Another guitar-like song that brought out the soft feelings of love and rejection. HR mused to himself if fate had planned this out. If this was some sort of sign or a cruel joke… You had stopped yourself from clicking the button to skip the song at his comment. You don’t know what possessed you to let him indulge in another song that you’ve cried to late at night. “Hey, I can cook dinner tonight. I have something I’ve been wanting to try. I’m not that crippled so I can manage with a few cookware.” HR chuckled to himself, a goofy grin on his face. Your heart leapt in your chest; his grin caused a small smile to pull at your lips. “You can wash up first?”

You swallowed thickly, your eyes meeting his icy blues. You felt your cheeks warm up slightly as the nerves crawled up your spine. “Oh, ok. Cool, yeah. Can’t wait to see what you cook up.” You nodded, ducking your head away and shuffling out of the kitchen with that shy smile on your face. You missed the longing look he had sent you as you fastened your steps to head to your room.

God I love that smile. What goes on in that little head of yours? We used to be so close… before Tracy came into the picture. HR pulled out the spices and the chicken breast. He shook his head and proceeded to prep the food with his one useful hand. I need to consult Francisco.

***

“We need to talk,” HR’s voice broke the silence in the side lab of the Cortex. He had breached to the labs using the Breach Extrapolator after he had showered and such. His damp hair was pushed back in HR’s normal style.

“About what?” Cisco raised a concerned eyebrow at the writer, stopping what he had been doing.

“(Y/N).”

A nervous laugh left Cisco as he went back to attempting to make the necessary modifications to the Speed Bazooka. Tracy was reluctant to help the mechanical engineer after the breakup. “What about (Y/N)?” Cisco put down his screwdriver. “Did you do something weird to her?”

“What? No! I- we used to be closer. We always talked, we’d hang out after a long day here at the labs.”

“Uh huh.”

“And, maybe it’s just me, but things have changed.”

“How so?” Cisco was wondering what conclusion HR was leading himself to.

“Things changed when Tracy came into the picture.”

Cisco made a little ‘o’ with his mouth with a little nod before closing it. He pushed a rough sigh past his lips, he was getting really tired of this puppy love game. “Why do you think that?”

“Francisco, she flinches when I get close – almost when I touch her… Does she hate me?”

“I think you and I know the answer to that one. But I think the real question should be: Why do you care so much? Why does it bother you? Do you love her, HR?”

The novelist tensed a bit. “…” HR pursed his lips as Cisco walked around the table that the speed weapon was mounted on. Blueprints were scattered on one table while the glass board held variables and equations he could not decipher. “What?”

“I said what I said,” the mechanical genius smoothly responded. One look at HR and Cisco knew that he was baffled by his forward words. But they needed to be said. “Now run along and use that head of yours to think about what your heart wants. Barry isn’t going to get himself out of the Speedforce.”

***

Cisco’s words mulled through HR’s mind as he breached back to your apartment’s living room. Only the lamp light on the side table was on. HR’s eyes landed on you, who laid on the couch with the book you had been reading on the back ledge of the couch. The novelist took off his shoes and set down his bag. He had detoured to the bookstore, looking for the next installment of your current book. The Wells doppelganger had assumed you didn’t buy it yet as it was vacant from your bookshelf. The gentle giant stepped silently closer to you; the dim light cast over you like a glow. There were slight bags under your eyes. She hasn’t been sleeping well lately. Spotting a large and fluffy blanket near, HR grabs it and lays it on top of you. He remembered you mentioned to him prior that you easily get cold, especially at night. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, HR contemplated something before his body moved impulsively. The novelist placed a gentle kiss on your forehead; his lips lingered for a few more seconds. Pulling back, HR watched your chest rise and fall. He turned the light off and stumbled over to his room with his phone light guiding him. He knew what he was going to write. Cisco’s question pestered him enough though.

Do you love her, HR?

HR took one look out his door before shutting it, his heart squeezed tightly in his chest as he whispered, “Goodnight, my angel.” Only the shadows that lingered were a witness to the fondness laced in those simple words.

***

You woke up with a start, you hand instantly smacking right into your chest. Heavy breaths left you as your nerves were in overdrive. Cold sweat beaded your skin as you gasp for air. It was another night terror – the same one for a few weeks now; a new way in which you caused HR’s death. Swallowing thickly, you screw your eyes tightly shut and whisper the mantra that calmed you down. After a few minutes, you started to regain control of your breathing – the thoughts that ravaged your mind finally ceased like the tides subsiding after a tsunami. You blinked languidly, hating nights like these. They weren’t rare, but they weren’t an uncommon occurrence. Deciding that you needed to step out for some air, you did so with the intent of getting a glass of water from the kitchen. Your fingers found the lights for the dimmers in your room, setting it to its lowest setting for you to see yourself out.

Cracking the door open, you were instantly met with the scene of HR passed out on the couch again. He’s been doing that for around two weeks now, the couch his new base of operations. His mouth was slightly open as little snores escaped him. A lovestruck smile crossed your features at the sight. Papers were littered around him, on the ground, and on the tables. Must be the manuscript he’s working on for his final draft. I hope I can read it at some point. Coming back from the kitchen with the water in hand you couldn’t help but stop to admire the sight. You noticed the glasses still perched on his face. Moving as silent as a ninja, you inched closer to pull off the glasses from his face. They’ll break if he keeps them on while he sleeps. Then he won’t see for shit when reading things. You nibbled on your bottom lip as your eyes drifted to the papers. One peek won’t hurt anyone. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Seating yourself on the ground, you leaned your back against the foundation of the couch. You were opposite to where HR’s upper body was. If there were any telltale signs of him waking, you’d hightail out before he could fully wake up and process what you were doing. Picking up a small stack, you started sifting through them. Your mind became engrossed with the words – the beginnings of the story he had spun about his adventures as to how he came to Earth-1. Then… mentions of an angel eluded you. It couldn’t be Tracy, could it? I know they broke up, but… on the other hand, it doesn’t mean that he can’t say that she was his angel at the time. Like a character development thing leading to their break up?? Well fuck, I don’t even think he’d mention such a personal thing in his book. I know I wouldn’t… would I? I don’t know. A little smile danced at your lips while you read on about the synonymous things regarding Team Flash that you failed to notice HR rouse from sleep.

“Do you like it?” Lethargy intertwined his words. A stunned noise left you as you clutched the papers. You turned to see HR rubbing his eyes before gazing at you.

I could get lost in those eyes if I stared too long.

“Uh, yeah, its- it’s really good,” you stuttered, setting the papers down in your lap. Embarrassment of getting caught gripped you. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I don’t mind you taking a peek. I don’t have anything to be ashamed of in it.” HR shifted his lithe body to sit next to you on the ground.

“Oh.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“No.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“It’s not that important, I’ll be ok.”

“If you say so,” HR’s shoulders sagged slightly. “I’m here if you want to talk.” You nodded at him, whispering a little thank you. HR ran a hand over his knee, he took a glimpse at you who stared at the papers. He noticed what chapter you hand been reading – the angel was making an appearance in the story. The hair at the back of his neck stood while you thumbed the words on the paper back in forth, just lost in your mind. Your hair was messy from sleep, the bags under your eyes were still there. It killed him how you wouldn’t confide in him anymore. But he didn’t push you. You would open up to him if you wanted to or not, even if he wanted you to do so as so his mind can be at ease with knowing what’s going on with you. Cisco’s question sprang up in his mind once more before he licked his lips, his eyes watching you. “I do.”

You gave HR a strange look. I do, what?

“Tracy wasn’t her.” Realization struck HR the more you whispered with him.

“Huh??”

“I heard this voice before I woke up.” The novelist fully turned to you with intense eyes, the enlightenment in them – the fire that burned brightly. “The tenderness in it could rival any tasteful delight in the multiverse.”

“A voice?”

“Mm, it made me think that only a heavenly deity would have such a voice.” You remained silent as he spoke. “I never got to hear that voice since my coma… until now?”

You tensed at what he was insinuating. “Now?”

“How could I forget?”

“I-I don’t understand.”

“How could I forget about you?” The baritone huskiness in his voice made you melt with the way he said those words. You swallowed, trying to calm the butterflies that raged in the pit of your stomach. “The flowers that were left – beautiful, delicate, yet meaningful. You left those after visiting me.”

“…”

She didn’t deny it. “But you never visited when I was awake because of Tracy.”

“She hates me.”

“And I was too blind to see that until I broke up with her, she threw quite a fit.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because you must have loved her so much that it would be hard to let go.” She was your angel, after all.

“She didn’t even know me. Truly know me.”

“… Did she hurt you?”

“Slightly, but the bruise is gone.” You and he were silent for a moment. Only the sound of a distant car horn was heard from the streets. “You didn’t deny it.”

“Deny what?”

“The flowers, the visit…” HR licked his lips as a rough breath left him. His nerves were climbing, but he needed to do this. “Cisco told me what you did to Savitar when you saw him. How angry you were that Harry had to pry you off him – I was so angry.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t know then… but I know now.”

“And?”

“Tracy was never the one written in my story – she didn’t care. She didn’t see me for anything other than a pretty face obsessed with coffee. You did.” HR tucked your hair behind your ear, carefully gauging your reaction. He saw how you tried not to flinch away from him. “Do you hate me?” He asked as he retracted a hand from you, happy that he was at least getting through to you.

“Never could I feel such a way towards you.” You hesitated for a moment before testing the waters. You started to explain, “I- the night you were stabbed by Savitar I… I just broke. I pushed Tracy away, I had Barry rush you back to the labs. You were dying, unconscious on the gurney and… I got to work trying to resuscitate you. I had Cisco take care of Tracy while I worked, I needed space to think clearly, but I couldn’t. When- when the others were preoccupied with Iris’ appearance, I used these powers.” It was now or never. “I was desperate. Your life was hanging by a thread- I didn’t think it was going to work, but nothing else was working. You were bleeding so much. But I had to try. I…” Your glassy eyes locked back on his, your hands pulled close to your body. HR understood now why you never tried touching him. Why you are avoiding getting too close. “Cisco found out, he confronted me. But these powers, life isn’t guaranteed. They’re volatile, unprecedented – regardless of how I feel in the moment the balance can tip between giving a life and taking one.” There was a tightness in your chest as your voice cracked, “I’m cursed, I could hurt you.” I’m dangerous.

“I don’t think you will.”

“You don’t know that!”

“But I do,” HR reached a hand out to hold yours. Tension filled your heart as panic started to settle. “You wouldn’t let yourself hurt me. It would pain you too much.” HR squeezed your slightly shaky hand, his other hand still bound by the cross-sling. “My life is in your hands.”

“How can you trust me so much?”

“Because love cannot be built without a foundation of trust.” He placed a sweet kiss on the knuckles of your hand. “And understanding.” He took the other and kissed it, baby blue eyes shifted back to yours with such intense emotion. The adoration that filled the author to the brim for you. Just for you. Only you. The one who saw him for everything and anything that he is. His safe space – the one other thing he wanted to be for you as well. He wanted to eliminate any fears that resided in your heart, the pain and doubt that remained.

“Do you hate me?”

HR cupped your cheek tenderly as he leaned close, your heart wanted to stop as blood rushed to your cheeks and ears. Your half-lidded eyes shut slowly as his lips skimmed over your own. “Never in my life, angel,” the novelist whispered as he captured your lips in a tender and sentimental kiss.

Never in my life could I hate the one who my heart has yearned for.

#harrison wells x reader #harrison wells #hr wells x reader #hr wells #hr wells imagine #the flash cw #the flash #harrison wells imagines #earth 19 harrison wells #cw #cisco ramon #tracy brand #iris west #Iris West-Allen

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msmarvelwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Almost Is Never Enough

Summary: Ever since Steve had come out of the ice all those years ago, his only goal had been to get back to Peggy Carter. A home that was waiting and forgetting him all at once. But that doesn't make it any easier to watch him go.

Pairing: Steve x reader

Warnings: Angst, angst, just a little bit of angst, fluff, language.

Word Count: 2.4k

Authors Note: Thank you to the wonderful @remmiesour for this request. It’s been a decade, but I finally got around to it! I’ve never written for Steve and honestly I didn't think I ever would but, famous last words I guess! Enjoy!

Ever since Steve had come out of the ice all those years ago, his only goal had been to get back to her. A home that was waiting and forgetting him all at once. She was there, and if it was the last thing he did, he would be too.

So, when the opportunity presented itself, when he could actually find his long lost love, you already knew he had made the decision before the words fell from his lips.

You knew. But god, that didn't make it any easier.

You hadn’t meant for it to happen, falling in love with the world's most unavailable man. In every sense of the word, it was an accident.

And yet, there you stood, eyes trained on his face as he laughed with his friends. The sound ripping through you like it always did. For the past week you had been trying to memorize the sound. The way it filled the room, pulling smiles from everyone who heard it.

You hadn’t meant to fall in love with Steve Rogers, but that is exactly what you did.

“Ya know,” Bucky’s gravely voice started behind you, pulling your attention away from Steve and towards his friend. “If you're planning on telling him, I’d do it now.”

You furrowed your brow at the brunette, a false confusion clouding your eyes. You shook your head, only pulling a scoff from his stubble framed lips.

“Don’t play that with me. I see the way you look at him.” He smiled softly, watching as your eyes flicked back to the godlike man.

Bucky was only trying to help. But in your case, you were just too late. You had your moment. Several if you were being honest. Steve deserved someone who wasn't afraid to tell him how they felt. Someone strong and brave.

Someone like Peggy Carter.

“I missed my chance.” You hummed, taking a sip from the bottle of stale beer in your hand. You grimised at the bitterness, the liquid courage doing nothing for your spirit. Only serving as a half assed reminder of what a coward you really were.

How many times had those three words almost fallen from your mouth? How many moments passed- longing stares and lingering touches? Surely too many to keep count. But it didn't change the truth.

He didn't love you, and he was leaving.

“I think that he deserves to know what he’s leaving behind.” Bucky whispers against your ear, the words pulling at your heart.

Only you and he knew the truth. Today was not a celebration of wins… It was a send off.

“He deserves to be happy.” You choked out, your eyes meeting Steves from across the room, his softening when he was your hollow form. You faked a smile, though it didn't fool the Captain as he began to make his way over to you.

“And what about you?” You snapped your head to meet Bucky, your eyes serious and tone stern.

“Stop it. Please.”

Bucky raised his hands in surrender, taking a step back as Steve approached you. His voice calling your name melted over you like honey in tea. So sweet, but always ready to burn if not careful.

You met his gaze, his blue eyes sparkling down at you, inviting you in. You could drown in the oceans of his iris, in fact, you had on many occasions. Tonight was no exception.

“Could I steal you away for a moment?” He asked, his voice cutting through your thoughts, coated in kindness.

The moment his eyes met yours, you were a goner. A mess from the second he said your name. It was pathetic, but then again, isn’t that what you were? Doomed from the first day he walked into your life, taking up every thought in your head.

“Of course.” You tried to smile, forcing it on your quivering lips. You hoped Steve didn’t notice, and of course, he didn’t. He never noticed. If he had, perhaps you wouldn’t be in this mess.

Steve pulled you along, hand in hand as he led your outside into the night. Darkness acting as a veil covering your hurt. Part of you wanted to scream. Needed it. Though, it wouldn’t do much now.

“Do you remember when we first met?” His question echoed around you, pulling you to the memory of your first encounter.

Of course you remembered. It replayed in your head like a broken record every night. A thousand ‘what if’s’ swirling around the memory.

The day he asked you to dance at one of Tony’s elaborate fundraisers for charity. He was like something out of a dream, the way he walked across that dance floor to you. The way his voice asked that daunting question. The way you swooned the moment his hands touched yours, pulling you in and spinning you around the room.

It all felt so distant now. As if you had made the entire thing up in your head.

Sometimes you wish you had.

“I remember you being a terrible dancer.” You joked, worrying on your bottom lip as Steve's laugh echoed around you.

“See, that's the problem. I don’t have much practice and I owe a dame a dance.” His words were sincere and yet dripped in venom. They cut you deep, poison darting straight to your heart.

“You want me to help you… Dance?” You tried not to let your face show how truly hollow you felt.

You had to force yourself not to cringe away when he took your hand, pulling you gently against his chest. You could have died right there, drowned in your own self loathing, overcome with jealousy for a woman who, at this very moment, was nothing more than a tombstone. She was gone, nothing but a memory and still- Steve picked her.

With a broken breath, you rested your hand on his shoulder, shivering at his touch. You should pull away, save yourself from the ache. But the way he held you- gently and with a foreign love you would never feel from Steve, your body stayed. You had wondered what it would be like. Wrapped up in his arms, your name on his mouth, his lips on your throat. You had imagined it more times than you cared to admit.

One dance couldn't hurt.

You let him take the lead, swaying you slowly into the night. His hand on your waist, guiding you to a silent melody.

“Ya know, there was a moment that I thought it might be us.” His words whispered against your neck, freezing you in time. You swore your veins turned to ice at the cruelty of his remark. All you could do was gape.

Steve pulled away to look at you, watching your face turn pale and eyes fill with tears.

“How could you- This is a bad idea. I can’t do this, Steve.” You choked out, horrified at how little your voice sounded. You hated how he made you feel, small and broken. If you were, it was only because he made you that way.

“I didn't mean to-”

“Didn't you? I respect myself too much to beg you to stay. But what the fuck, Steve? How can you stand there, one foot out the door and tell me that?” You were shattered, hand over your heart as if it might fall out at any moment. “I’ve followed you around like you were the sun. I’d do anything for you. But I won’t watch you walk away. Not when all that’s waiting for you is a ghost. I love you too much, and it breaks my heart that you can’t even consider that I could… That I might…”

“Y/n, baby, I’m so sorry. I just-” Your name fell from his lips like a plea, but you couldn't stand there and listen to him try to mend what was already so irreversibly broken.

“No- Just stop.” You blurted, turning away and pulling yourself from his grasp. “I’ve been second to her my whole life. I’m numb to it now. But don’t make excuses for your shitty decision. If you want to go, go.” With that, you pushed away from him, heading back to the party and away from the man who, come tomorrow, would be forever out of reach.

The next morning you woke up, eyes burning from the tears shed the night before and chest heavy with guilt.

Part of you knew there was a better way to say the things you did, but another part reveled in your cruelty. Basked in how dumbstruck Steve looked standing on the lawn. Maybe it was mean, but so was he.

It wouldn't matter for long. The afternoon sun was creeping in and soon he would be gone. Nothing but a distorted memory of a man you used to love. But at least he knew. At least when he laid beside his consolation prize he would remember you. Maybe he would hurt. You cringed at the idea.

No matter how much you wanted to hate Steve, your heart simply wouldn't allow it. That was the worst joke of all. You despised the man you loved.

Buck: He’s waiting for you…

You looked down at your phone on the bedside table, wiping away the tear that rolled down your cheek. You knew it was time. This was the moment that you had prepared for. But you made a promise last night- one you were far too petty to fall back on now.

Though even still, as the seconds lulled by, guilt began to eat away at your brain and before you knew it you were half way out the door. Your feet dragged you down the hall, forcing you to confront the horrible truth.

You knew he was gone before Bucky even spoke the words. His eyes filled with a sadness only you could know. Shoulders slumped as he struggled to hold his gaze. He shook his head, affirming your worst fears as Sam’s panicked voice broke through the tension.

“Get him back here!” He shouted, his tone filled with dread. It was torture to watch, unberable to feel.

A loud crackle erupted through the air almost knocking you off your feet. Through the piercing white flash, you saw a figure. If you didn't know any better you would have thought-

There, in all of his glory, was Steve Rogers. Perfect and untouched. Like a statue carved from marble.

All you could do was gape, hand over mouth as he stepped down the tarmac, a smile that could instill world peace plastered on his pink lips. Your whole body vibrated with nerves. Somewhere between anger and hope.

Your name fell from his lips, but you couldn't hear it over the hammering of your heart, your feet already carrying you across the field.

“What the hell are you-”

“It’s you, doll.” He beamed, his words only fueling a rage that was threatening to boil over the closer you got. “It’s always been you. I can't believe I didn't see it until-”

Your fist colliding with his stoney jaw cut him off before he could finish. You pushed against his, palms thrashing at his chest as he tried to fend you off. Of course, he could if he truly wanted to, you knew this.

“Y/n, just listen to me.” He begged, holding your wrists tight as you went to take another hit. You tried to yank yourself away from him, but it was no use. “I was stupid, doll. A complete idiot and I didnt see what was right in front of me. Tell me it’s not too late. Tell me I still have a chance.” Steve's eyes brimmed with tears as your heart thundered in your chest.

You could only blink, your mind racing between a thousand reasons to walk away. To close the chapter on your love with Steve for good. So why did you stay? As if it wasn't torture enough. As if he hadn't beaten your heart black and blue with his carelessness. You wanted to run, but amidst the broken shards of your heart was a naive girl desperate with hope. And so, with a half step, you closed the distance, taking the deadly plunge as your lips collided with his.

Steve drank you in, his mouth moulding to yours the instant you met. His hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you in until you arched back against him. Nothing in the world could have prepared you for how completely and irrevocably intoxicating he was. His presence over you melting you into a puddle before him.

Steve's tongue gently ran across your bottom lip pulling a gutteral shutter to wrack through your body. The taste of him permanently cemented into your mouth. It was the soft moan that escaped the back of his throat that finally did you in, buckling your knees as you held onto the soldier for dear life.

It wasn't until Sam’s voice echoed around you that you finally pulled away from Steve. Your body’s untwining as the rest of the world came back into focus.

“Does anyone want to tell me what the hell is going on? What is she talking about?” Sam shouted, pointing his finger at you exasperatingly.

“I- I… I don't…” Your words fell to the back of your throat, the memory of Steve’s lips ingrained in your skin. You couldn't think, much less form a coherent sentence as he looked down at you, that boyish grin plastered on his mouth. The way his eyes sparkled, tears filled with a longing you had seen many times, but never from him.

“Were you not coming back?!” Sam blurted abruptly causing Steve to snap his head in the falcons direction.

“No.” Steve spoke simply, his gaze returning to you. Eyes filled with an answer you had been wracking your brain for. “I could never leave my best girl.”

You scoffed, your gaze only leaving Steve’s for a moment. His words were kind, his lips intoxicating. But there was a nagging in your heart, pulling you from your dreamstate and back to reality.

“Best girl, huh?” You signed, leaning into him as you chased his touch. “I think I’m going to need you to prove that, Rogers.”

Steve chuckled, the low rumble vibrating through your chest. His smile seemed brighter than you’d ever seen, reassuring you that this was the only place he wanted to be. “For as long as I can, darling.”

#steve x reader #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers #steve rodgers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #dark!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader

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georgiapeach30513 · 3 years ago

Note

I just need some Story / Carter fluff. Maybe when they brought Otto home bc let’s be honest, it was them bringing them not just Story taking her baby home. Or just any cute fluff when the babies are tiny.

I love fluff with these two! And yes, from the moment Carter climbed up her tower for the last time, he never left. He has no intentions of leaving, he's there for the long haul, and while his name might not be on the birth certificate, Otto Ransom is his son! This is going to have a bit of angst too, just because everything that happened leading up to him going home.

🖤🖤🖤🖤

As Good A Dad

Summary: Carter and Story with a new baby

Pairings: Carter Baizen X Story Drysdale

Rating: Fluff

Warnings: none, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1.2K

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Story Drysdale Masterlist

Story sits in the floor of Otto’s nursery, her finger just grazing over the soft skin of his cheek. It’s like she can’t get enough of him. Can’t close her eyes without thinking about him. Her lips always kissing along his supple skin, while she inhales his freshness. She can’t help but to stare at him, in awe of just how perfect he is.

“I thought I’d find you here,” Carter walks over to sit in the floor beside her. His own eyes staring down at the second most perfect thing he’s ever seen. “you gonna come to bed?”

“I don’t want to put him down.”

“We should get a crib or your mom has that basket thing for downstairs,” Story leans her head over on his shoulder. “He doesn’t have to be away from us.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?” with a twist of his neck he gives the top of Story’s head a kiss, making her nuzzle in tighter to him.

“The way you say it. Us,” she releases a soft sigh, smelling Carter’s cologne mix with her little baby’s new scent.

“He’s mine,” her eyes flutter close, and she lets the tears she had been holding in roll down her cheek. “He’s perfect because you did that. You grew him in your belly. I held your hand when you pushed him out, and fell in love the moment I saw his face.”

“You fell in love before then,” it’s true. Carter wanted that baby from that first meeting. Seeing Story opening the door, and rub along her swollen stomach, all he could think about was wanting to hold it too. It was immediate, because he was hers. “I don’t want him to be like his family,” her lip trembles, and Carter wraps his arm around her. Pulling Story tight against him. “I look at him now, and he’s perfect but...Carter I was so stupid.”

“Shh...no you weren’t. This perfect little boy is going to be the sweetest ball of joy we’ve ever seen. We’re going to raise him to be a gentleman, and I want him to treat women with respect. Show him how you treat women by my actions with you. He’s never going to be like his family. He’s got way too much Story Drysdale in him.”

“I’m scared I won’t be a good mom. I’ve already screwed so much up, and I want to be everything to him.”

“You are. Just like you’re everything to me,” she gives him a little sniffle. Kissing Otto’s forehead again, giggling a bit at his tiny little squeaks when he stretches. “I love you Story.”

She looks over at Carter, the boy she’s always loved. Speaking the words she has wished, prayed, and tried to write in existence, and now here he is saying them, and everyday. And it’s the most beautiful thing she's ever heard, never getting tired hearing those words fall off his lips. Everything about Carter is still what she remembers. Those bright blue eyes, his cute little dimples on his cheek, and the sweet dimple on his chin. His lips always so pouty. His looks was only the first thing that made her fall though.

Throughout her life Carter had been there. To him it was just him being a sweet boy, but to her, it was her entire world. Even when Iris was with her dad, and Story needed someone to sit with her through breathing treatments, Carter would sit with her and tell her lame jokes. He played along with her story. Even got to the point where he would add to it. Told her the name of the stars, would stand at her door watching her while she gazed up at her most special star, always wishing for him. And now here he was saying those words that she had dreamed about, wrote about, wished for, and he was right there.

“I love you, too.”

“I’ll wait as long as you need to. I know what the doctor said, but I meant, past that. Story, you’re everything I’ve always wanted, and I didn’t realize you were always right here. You knew all along that you were meant for me. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you, and Otto. I know you’re tired princess, take him in the bedroom, and I’m going to find that thing that your mom insisted that we have,” she gives him a soft kiss. Kisses are the only thing she’s comfortable with doing, even when her body reacts to him, her mind gets in her way.

Wrapping a hand around her head, he holds her close, giving her sweet kiss after sweet kiss. Leaning into him, she wants more. Tickling her tongue along his lips, before he opens, granting her access, stopping only when Otto pouts, and gives a little cry. Story whines herself, “What?”

“He’s hungry.”

“Then we need to feed me.”

“You mean, me, feed him. It hurts,” Standing up she moves aside her nursing gown, she gives a quick wince when he attaches, before walking into her tower room. “Don’t leave me,” Carter had noticed how needy she was during feedings. Always wanting someone there, so he just sits on the bed with her, letting her body lean against him. Her eyes getting heavy with sleep, but he just watches his son.

Story is fast asleep by the time Otto is finished, letting his milk drunk face pull off giving a big yawn. He gathers the infant in his arms, cradling him, as he covers Story back up. “Little man, I don’t think you realized how loved you are, by everyone.”

Otto’s eyes pop open, and Carter swears he’s listening to everything he says, “That’s right. You and your mommy mean the world to me. When she gets to feeling better, I want to build her, her very own castle. I gotta ask your Papa first,” a cold chill runs up Otto’s spine, and he smacks his lips at Carter. “You’ve got nothing to be worried about, you’re his first grandson, and your mom? That’s his baby. I’ve got some big shoes to fill. You’re Papa is a good dad, and I only hope that I can be as good a dad to you, as he was to your mom. Even to me.”

Carter looks over at Story, her body now completely relaxed in sleep, “I promise, I’m going to make sure you and her are taken care of. She worries about how she’s going to be as a mom, between you and me, she’s going to be the best,” he leans forward to give him a kiss to his forehead, “Now, let’s find Mimi and Papa, and get your thingy in here. Really need to ask her what it’s called. You wanna go with me?” Otto, slowly blinks his eyes, letting out a toot, with a squeak from his mouth, “Son, when you get older I gotta teach you not to do that in front of your mother, okay? Let’s go get that mini bed in here.”

Masterlist

#desperate lives #desperate lives au #desperate verse #DA AU #DA AU request #DAU #story drysdale #carter baizen #carter baizen x story drysdale #otto white #carter baizen x otto white

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scarabiaa · 2 years ago

Note

2 and 3 for the whole gang if you don't mind <33 and that one about the entrance ceremony for Ivy (yes I forgot the number)

YESSS OFC LETS GOOOOOO i'll answer the ones that i didn't answer previously >:D

2. Who is your OC’s closest platonic friend?

Lumi - Her closest friend is Meditrina. They've stuck together since the start, even though they've been in different dorms. She actually taught her how to make her own tiny creatures, so now there's a potato family and a bunch of snowgies.

Gale - It's obviously Ignis and Navin. No, he can't choose and you cannot make him choose, he loves both of his homies! Although, his first friend between the two was Ignis, he made him feel welcome when he was completely lost in this new world.

Ignis - Gale and Navin, they're like his brothers. He was the one to befriend both of them since Gale was brand new and Navin looked like he needed a friend. He cannot choose between them, he cares about them both the same.

Iris - It's Valkyrie. She's known Val since she was young and it's because of Val that she was able to prove herself and make a change in someone. They've studied together and been through a lot together.

Navin - Gale and Ignis. He hardly goes anywhere without them and he enjoys being with them. He's had friends before but not like them because unlike before, Navin is now the one getting invited to stuff. He enjoys how all three of them just share a braincell.

Blanca - Colette is her best friend, they've known each other since Colette was in her first year. They've taught each other a lot of things and Blanca doesn't know who she would trust other than her.

Colette - Blanca, she's always been there for Colette even when Colette has tried pushing her away to deal with things herself. She sees Blanca as an older sister and cares for her so much more than she lets on.

Titus - Surprisingly, it's Jack, they're actually very close with each other and Titus always laughs at how serious Jack is.

Astro - He doesn't have a closest platonic friend, he has several friends! Although, he will admit that it'd be nice to sit down and actually be able to talk about his problems, just once. For now, he'd rather make everyone smile.

Onyx - It's Ortho, they talk quite a lot with each other. They've both got people that fix them constantly and they like to compete sometimes to see who can win a game (Onyx almost always lets Ortho win).

3. Tell us about a complicated relationship your OC has with another character?

Lumi - It has to be Azul. It's not that she doesn't trust him, it's just that he, as the owner of Mostro Lounge, needs to understand some things. Part of her thinks that she could talk things out with her, but the logical part of her brain says that you cannot change a businessman.

Meditrina - She's got a complicated relationship with Idia. She knows how hard it is to be the oldest, but she sees Ortho and feels more pity towards him than Idia. She's heard things and she still thinks it's wrong. It's a struggle between understanding Idia and understanding Ortho, because this Ortho should not be treated as a replacement.

Gale - It's sort of funny but it's the dwarves. They only briefly met but he was immediately met with an instinct of rage. They reminded him so much of his little brother that he felt lost. He's never done anything wrong against them, but it's complicated.

Ignis - He tries not to show it, but if you look close at how he acts around Jade, you can see it. Jade just reminds him of the bullies he encountered when he was little and he tries not to say anything, but it's clear when he steers away from Jade.

Blanca - Riddle's mother. Technically, it's her own mother as well but Blanca refuses to call her that. She knows that she should respect her because that is her biological mother but she cannot forgive what she has done to Riddle. In her mind, Blanca feels guilty because she could've done something and maybe Riddle could have turned out a different way if she had just stood up for him.

Colette - No one! Well, except for the girl that replaced her. But she tries not to think about her too much because it stresses her out even more.

Titus - Absolutely no one, this guy's got no complicated relationships. He sorts them out quickly and if the person likes him, cool, if they don't, that's fine too.

Astro - It's Neige. He doesn't know it, but the reason why he hates Neige so much is because in his past life, something happened to him that was caused by someone who looked so much like Neige. He harbors a hatred that everyone thinks is just because of their rivaling fame, but it actually runs deeper than that.

Valkyrie - Also Neige. For some reason she doesn't trust him whatsoever and every time she sees him with that innocent smile on his face, she wants to roll her eyes.

Onyx - Leona. He keeps getting told that what he and Iris have is nothing more than rivalry, but it's not just that. It angers him to know that Leona is a prince and he could have everything he ever wanted, yet he chooses to be lazy? He doesn't like him, period.

16. How would your OC describe their entrance ceremony from their POV?

Ivy: "Maaaan, when I tell you it was dark, I meant it, it was super dark. Imagine being in a coffin and next thing you know, you're supposed to step out for what, to be chosen? I mean, the robes were nice but for God's sake, some people truly chose to do some bad eyeliner. Anyways, I'm not gonna say it was an amazing experience because the Dark Mirror was like, 'Ignihyde' and I have heard stuff about them. It was the best option, but did they have to select the most cowardly person of all to be the dorm leader? Come on, be real. All of the Ignihyde members looked like recluses too, so imagine my surprise when I realized that I was in the dorm with the ones who prefer to stay inside. I do like to game, but do these guys ever go outside and shower? Also, what's with the dorm leader arriving by tablet? Pathetic, I thought. I could make a better dorm leader because unlike him, I'd actually go out to find the Ignihyde members. Maybe that's why everyone's so shy. It's annoying because I can't make friends with any of them. And after that, I don't remember much of what happened, I spaced out. I think I was staring too hard at Jamil at some point but that was a complete accident, I literally blanked out."

#🔮.oc talks !#[ ⚜️ ] the tumultuous coterie !#these were actually so much fun to do especially number three #i was thinking about adding something more for gale and ignis #because i don't talk about how much their exes actually hurt them #everyone has complicated relationships and then there's titus #titus: man everyone either likes me or hates me that's cool though!

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sirensmojo · 4 years ago

Text

"KINDRED",6 - Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Fluff, Plot(s), Tommy & Reader being bitches

Summary: You're a reconverted ex war-nurse and join forces with Thomas Shelby to cut the head of the Fascist serpent, Oswald Mosley.

Word Count: 4.8K

A/N: This is the end of the Serie guys... The next part is the epilogue. II Gina's family is totally OC & It's Tommy POV.

*Masterlist*

❰ Previous Chapter

“I dreamt about a black cat,” Tommy went to sit down next to you, he was so close to you that your shoulders were touching, to his greatest pleasure.

After Polly left him, he stayed in his office for what seemed to be hours. It was his thirst for whiskey that hurried him to leave the room, and after he wandered in Small Heath’s streets & pubs, he conceded to do what he wanted to do since Pol left his office, see Y/N.

She was now in front of him, intently looking into his blue iris while remaining silent, a sign that she was waiting for him to continue.

“Thought it was Michael,” he raised a brow, “You told me it was Gina.” He pointed to her with his hand that was holding his cup of whiskey.

“Now Polly resigned.” He scoffed to himself. He couldn’t believe it was true that she left the company. And the worst part was that she was leaving to be on his enemy's side, Michael’s.

“Resigned?” Y/N raised her brows, quite surprised by the revelation.

Tommy didn’t answer, too occupied looking at the void in front of him. The woman didn’t know the Shelby family for quite long, but they seemed close. It was hard for her to understand the actual situation, and it’s in her head that she was making the additions to fill in the blanks in Thomas’s speech.

“She joined with Michael?” She concluded fast enough to catch Tommy desperately looking at her. It wasn’t simple to read his face, but she was used to him now, and their intimacy made it easier for her to see that Tommy was truly hurt by the event.

Y/N was seated on her knees, turned toward the Peaky head with one elbow at the top of the sofa and her chin in her palm. Her free hand was fidgeting with the tassels of her dress.

It was what Tommy firstly saw when she got out of the car ten minutes ago.

They arrived at her manor at the same time, both of their vehicles facing the other. Tommy got one hand onto his gun that was in his shoulder holster under his suit and Y/N was holding a rifle she kept on the passenger seat.

It was only when they turned off the headlights and that their stare connected that their bodies relaxed, the tension being replaced by the desire to possess the other.

Once out of the car, Tom couldn’t look at anything else other than the dress the Y/E/C eyed woman was wearing, it was a form-hugging grey satin one that reached her knees with a split on one of her legs, revealing some more skin.

At each of her actions, the tassels would move to accompany her figure, which mesmerized Tommy who forgot the reason for his coming.

She lifted her hand to Tom’s arm, squeezing it gently to reassure him. She didn’t want to use words as she knew he didn’t admit to himself that he was hurt. Y/N remained silent a little more before an idea crossed her mind.

“There is going to be a meeting, Tommy. A last one.”

He exhaled deeply and lifted his stare to her, intrigued by the confidence in the woman’s voice. She knew what he was thinking and nodded to him, “A family meeting. I will take the lead. I know exactly where to hit.” Her fingers slide to Tom’s hand as she was brushing the tip of her fingers on his skin.

The blue-eyed man wasn’t saying anything, but unlike any other time, he wasn’t deep in thought, this time, he was trying to read Y/N’s face. He knew she was ready for anything and ready to do everything, but the question remaining was, what?

What did she have in mind this time?

“Did you free Gina?” Tom suddenly asks, with everything that was happening he almost forgot that Y/N abducted his cousin’s wife to get rid of the couple after they treated Tommy’s status in the company.

She shook her head, “I did not do such a thing,” she raised her eyebrows with excitement, “Do you want to know our plan?” She shifted position, straightening back on her knees with both her hands on her thighs.

Tommy knew her, when she was this excited it didn’t presage anything good, and by the fire burning behind her iris, he knew he was right. “Please.” He agreed.

“Michael Gray, Polly Gray, Mr Rice & me, in the family meeting.” A faint smile appeared at the corner of her lips, distracting him a minute from what she just said.

“Mr Rice?” He squinted his eyes, frowning.

“Gina’s father.” The woman began as she poured some liquor into her cup, “He is here, in Birmingham, I’ve met with him today actually.” She sipped on her drink as if everything she was saying was normal.

But the more she was speaking and the more Tom’s brain got filled with questions, and when he was about to open his mouth, Y/N spoke again, well aware that Tommy didn’t understand.

“Remember when I told you that Gina was working with her uncle? Well, her father used to work with his own brother when younger, but he settled down when he met God. So I just twisted his mind into thinking his brother is using his daughter to get to him and... boom. We got another ally.”

“How come you know so much about her family?”

“It’s called socializing, Thomas, you should try it from time to time. When you use the money to get information, I use my pretty eyes.” She winked at him.

He snickered at her remark, did she just criticize his way of dealing with things? No. She proved more than once her benevolence towards Tommy and his business. “So, why do you want my enemies in a family meeting?” The man emphasized the last words to highlight how absurd Y/N’s idea seemed.

“To show ‘em our hand, we got all the cards right there, Tom.” She opened the man’s hand and patted at his palm with her index.

It was still quite peculiar for him to admit that Y/N handled difficult situations ridiculously well, and even more, to admit that she was indeed helping him.

Tommy wasn’t the type to let people get into his business because he was the only one to know how things needed to be handled, but since he met her, she hadn’t done one thing wrong.

She always had the right answers to threats, she always made the right moves, and even if he wouldn’t fully admit it to himself, he wanted to trust her. Even if he was well aware that she wasn’t telling him everything. He respected that, only because her resilience to fight for his business and himself was genuine.

Maybe Polly got it right the other night at the Garrison, he might be loving her.

“What do you say?” The woman’s voice got him out of his thoughts.

“Hmm?”

She chuckled and shifted her position to be closer to him when realizing he wasn’t even listening to her, “Why that serious face?” she asked as the tips of her fingers encountered Tom’s cheek tenderly.

The man didn’t move a bit, paralyzed by the thousands of sparkles running down his spine. He wasn’t used to her being that soft with him, and at the same time, he never wanted to get used to this, from the way her lips were stretched into a smile to the sweet gleam animating her eyes.

“You went out tonight?” He dismissed her previous question. She didn’t need to know that even when being with her he was still thinking about her.

The thing between them was still as fresh as spring wind and he was so used to seeing her being all strategic and untamed, that seeing her smiling and giggling with him ignited something in him.

“It's a women’s night,” She leaned toward him and pecked his lips before getting up. His fingers that were drawing circles on her thigh slid to her hand and she squeezed it before pulling on it, “the night’s still young. Come ‘ere, Sergeant Major.” She mentioned to him as starting to move her hips.

Tommy’s eyes weren’t leaving her figure, he didn't even blink, too afraid she would vanish. Seeing that she was inviting him to join her, he gave her a faint smile.

(...)

Y/N pushed the Garrison’s door and entered, followed by Tommy. The sound of her high heels caught the attention of the people already inside, heads turned to the lovers as they both puffed on their cigs, ignoring the fact they were late.

“Good morning everyone, I’m happy you could all make it. We know there are disagreements between some of you, but business comes first, right?” Y/N took the lead, positioning herself in front of everybody.

In the room we could see Polly, sitting at the same table as her son Michael who kept an empty chair next to him, probably expecting his wife to join the meeting. Arthur was next to the counter, pouring himself some whiskey. Ada was seated by herself, arms crossed, she already looked pissed off for some reason, but when did she not look like that?

To finish, Mr Rice was alone at a table at the back of the room, as if he didn’t want to mix with the people present at this meeting.

The smiles and sweetness that was present on Tommy and Y/N's faces last night was long gone as both of them wore an emotionless cold face now. They stood side by side, but not too close to avoid suspicion about the nature of their relationship.

“Mr Rice, may I introduce you to my partner, Mr Thomas Shelby, OBE.” She waved her hand to the man standing right next to her.

“Michael, this is Gina’s father, but I bet you already met him, didn’t you?” We could sense provocation in her tone, but Michael was too concentrated on wondering why Gina’s father was there to notice it.

“Polly, we informally met each other two nights prior to this day. Nice to meet you officially.” She threw a smirk to Polly before pouring some whiskey into two cups, giving one to Tommy as she sipped on hers.

The man ignored the stares of his family and drank his drink. They discussed strategies before the meeting and he was sure she knew what she was doing, if everything happened as Y/N predicted, he wouldn’t even have to open his mouth this morning.

“Why are we here?” Polly was the one to ask the question that everybody had in mind.

“To inform you about the restructure of the Shelby Company Limited.” The librarian snapped back outrightly. She didn’t miss the face Michael made and the way his chest raised, it wouldn’t last long before opening his mouth, she could tell, and she counted on that.

“According to what I heard, Americans don't want to deal with the Peaky Blinders, so we’re giving them the Bridgehead Corporation instead.”

It was the first time Tommy heard mentioning the name of her own organisation and his side-eye look showed how deep she piqued his interest.

“I got people back in New York that reached to your contacts, Michael, offering them to directly deal with the opium dealer themselves rather than having to have you as the intermediary.” She didn’t even look to the Gray man, despising him for trying to outdo Tommy.

“Mr Rice here,” She spiritedly pointed at the man sitting at the back of the room “...is one of my associates in America, he is here to testify that they will directly link the Chinese to your contacts if you don’t back down your stupid caprice, Michael.”

Tommy’s cousin was looking at the woman with a clenched jaw, and she knew he wouldn’t be able to retort anything because he wasn’t even the brain of his plan, it was his wife, and she wasn’t there.

She smacked her lips, “But we both know that fucking Americans don’t want to deal with Chinese, right, they don’t want to have to talk to them & do all the real job. They want their money fast without dirtying their hands so they can strut around with their big bellies and cigars.” She continued, meeting Polly’s black stare, but she didn’t give in.

She wasn’t scared of any member of this family, she was there to have Tommy’s back which meant she wouldn’t back down. If they wanted to concentrate on the evil things he’s done and be blind to the fact that all he did was for his family to prosper, then she would be the only one standing by his side.

Polly’ eyes reached Tommy’s, breaking eye contact with Y/N. The Shelby's head wasn’t even looking at the crowd, he was looking before him, listening closely to what the Y/H/C haired woman was saying.

“I’m high-society in England, my name’s on the War records. I've worked hand in hand with Emmeline Pankhurst, which make people talk about me even when I’m not there. Add to this that now, I too deal with the Chinese in the name of the Peaky Blinders. If I approach your contacts, Mr Gray, do you think they will refuse me?” She was speaking with a very calm voice, no anger nor pride and no glance thrown his way, she was too occupied lightening up another cigarette.

“Who the fuck are you?” He ultimately let out, to Y/N's greatest pleasure.

“Who the fuck am I? Say the one losing 2$ million in fucking stock market but still think he can lead this company.” She chuckles to herself, and Arthur can only snort at her arrogance.

A freezing silence settled in the room.

“How’s Gina, Michael?” She finally looked at him with a vicious smile, “Oh yeah, you cannot properly take care of her either.” She let out solemnly.

Another silence settled as Polly was once again intently looking at the woman.

She knew from the start she wasn’t a simple “librarian” as Tommy portrayed her, but this was too much of a scene for a high-society person. She was there when Mosley spoke at the Arrow House during the ballet and it was nothing like what just happened.

There was something more about this that she couldn’t quite get.

“Now if you would excuse us, we got a fucking fascist to kill.” She let out before putting one of her hands in her suit’s pocket as she grabbed the bottle of whiskey with her other hands after sticking her cigarette in between her lips.

Tommy watched her leave the room and raised his brows out of surprise, she was something… He couldn’t say otherwise. It was now sure that Michael wouldn’t try something against him, after that speech, he himself never wanted to be an enemy to Y/N.

(...)

*Bingley Hall, 6th*

“What did you mean: damage from the inside?"

“I have a strategy,” Tommy started to pace up and down, overflowed by the number of thoughts in his mind as well as adrenaline filling his veins.

“You always have a strategy,” Jessie Eden continues wiping the dirt off her face in front of the mirror.

“But it’s dangerous, and it can’t be shared without sharing the danger. ” He opened his arms to mimic how dangerous it was while turning to her figure.

“What’s going to happen?” She turned to face him as the Shelby's head began his race again.

He stops right in front of her without breaking eye contact, his head held high, “I’m gonna do a good thing.” He waved his hand as if he was acting. He thought it was funny to put “I” and “doing a good thing” in the same sentence, “When I do a good thing, innocent people get hurt. So go home.” He looked straight at her. “After this evening, we can meet, discuss strategies.” He pointed to the door with his hand that was holding his cap, “That beast… out there he just a beast. He’s like a horse. It’s the rider that decides which direction it takes.” Tommy wasn’t even talking to Eden at this point, it was himself he tried to cheer up.

He was already putting back his hat on as joining the door when she asked, “And who will be the rider?”

“Just go home.”

He opened the door and left, leaving her aghast while staring at the door shutting. She could only fill the blanks in Tommy’s speech by herself. It was him, who would be the rider.

(...)

“Full?”

“To the fucking brim.” McCavern’s strong accent reached his boss’ ears like the most satisfying sound.

He was arranging his collar in front of a glass, concentrating, “Trouble?”

“So far, a few communists. Bowlers helped our boys clear them away.”

“A few hecklers are a good thing. We can demonstrate how we deal with opposition.” Mosley’s voice was calm, not an ounce of nervosity nor anxiety or apprehension in his voice. He was confident, even his usual arrogance could be heard in his tone.

“There’s a rumour a gang of Jews are coming up from Digbeth. No sign of them yet.” The Irish man was watching things laying on the tables as if truly interested in knowing what they were. He behaved as if it was routine for him to stand by the side of a fascist who was about to tell thousands of people it was a minority being the source of all problems in England and preach about how its extinction will bring much fortune to their beloved country.

Mosley was done making arrangements with his clothes, but his eyes were still fixed on his own through the mirror, his head held high, “Well, let them come. Welcome them appropriately” He concluded.

The atmosphere was serene, filled with silence when Jimmy McCavern suddenly felt concerned, finally raising his gaze to the head of the Fascist serpent, “There are a few Peaky boys around.”

Mosley looked at the Irish man through the mirror, tilting his head to the side and clicking his tongue, “They are our allies. There’ll be no rift between us. Keep your powder dry” He exhaled.

McCavern was about to leave when called by his boss, who was now turned to him, standing straight. His vitreous black eyes didn’t blink even once as he abruptly made the Nazi salute toward the Irish near the door, “Perish Judah.”

The Irish scoffed, opening the door.

“No joke, Mr McCavern.” Mosley gave his first and only warning.

McCavern closed the door in a thud and shifted his position to stand straight, making the Nazi salute towards Mosley without any expression on his face, “Perish Judah.”

After that, Mosley came back to look at himself in the mirror, turning his body to the side, a hand on his stomach, probably checking how fit he looked.

The door opened and closed, a dry chuckle filling the silent room, “Shouldn’t you be repeating your speech or something?”

Mosley’s eyes lift to Y/N. A cigarette hanging over her lips. She was wearing a dark suit matching the gleam in her staring iris. His lids closed before snapping open to her long fitted pants that reached her feet over her black high heels.

She clicks her tongue once in front of him, leading him to lift his gaze to hers.

“You shouldn’t be here, I’ll be announced in a minute.”

“Oh, that I know Sir.”

He gave her a faint smile as closing his eyes with satisfaction, he could get used to being called ‘Sir’ by the owner of the suave voice reaching his ears.

He opened his eyes to hers, “Why the black outfit?” He tilted his head to the side, intrigued by the potential answer.

Y/N was smoking her cig, “Preparing for someone’s death.” She offered him a side smile as a heavy silence settled in the tiny room.

He clicked his tongue, not knowing if she was referencing to the people causing a riot or else. He stretched his arm to the door, inviting her to be the first to get out.

Y/N took a step closer, his hand now touching her as she locked the butt of her cigarette in between her lips, her fingers reaching Mosley’s shoulders, swapping the fabrics off of any potential dirt.

She, obviously, knew he didn’t like to be touched and that Mosely would certainly be annoyed by having the smoke of cigarettes so near his face as he despised them, but she also knew how proud he would feel to finally have an intimate contact with her as he loved women.

Mosley grabbed one of her wrists with one hand, stopping her in her tracks. She lifts her eyes to his staring ones, they were devoid of any emotions, as usual. She was quick to slide her fingers in his, the contact-making him drop her hand abruptly with disgust.

Even if her face didn’t show anything, she was internally laughing at how easy it was to play with him and poke him right in his weak points.

“A quick fuck, perhaps?” She teased the man even more.

She knew if it was any other time he would gladly bend her over a table and fuck her while looking at his own reflection, but it wasn’t the time nor the moment. But she also knew he was well aware he wouldn’t have any other occasion with her, which made the torture a little more dramatic.

He broke the stare and by-passed her without even saying anything, slamming the door behind him.

(...)

“Tommy.” Was all she succeeded at saying, her saliva being sticky out of nervousness. She couldn’t believe they were about to do it.

He turned to her, his back facing the mirror. No need to describe how relieved he was to see her radiant face. YN's perfect hair framing her face elegantly as her finger-waves bounced as she took steps further towards him.

The mood immediately shifted, it was light and soft, the sweet exchanges of looks and smiles uncovering their feelings for each other. They couldn’t even hide the fact they were desperate for each other now.

It was obvious to the two, but also to everyone around them, beginning with Lizzie. She refused to see Thomas for days now, hiding in her own house Tommy bought her when Ruby was born.

She wasn’t the only one refusing to see him, Polly never gave news after the last family meeting, but Tommy heard she was now living with Aberama in her house, away from any illegal activities while Aberama still was working with Tommy, looking forward to the time he’d be able to avenge his son by killing McCavern.

Arthur, that was spending way more time than needed at the Bridgehead library, also noticed how close she and Tommy were, and he never ceased to make jokes, which Y/N blocked by slipping in remarks on how he was eyeing her right-hand, Bridget, and how often this latter began to show up late at work.

The insinuation of Arthur having an affair with the employee of Y/N always made Tommy chortle on his drink, while his older brother remained unusually silent. He, that always thought to be so discreet that no one noticed he found a love interest in a feminist, was in fact not so discreet, much to his displeasure. And hearing his brother laughing at him didn’t help.

Y/N inhaled deeply, her heart pounding in her chest that was inflating. Her fingers went fondling the wrinkles at the corner of Tom’s eyes in a tender manner that immediately eased the man, his skin burning under the touch.

He tilted his head, leaning into her caress so her palm would cup his cheek.

He and she knew better than anyone that in this chaotic lifestyle, they needed sweetness. Not that he was okay admitting he found it while being with her, but she hoped it was the case.

“Something’s in the air, Thomas. Be prepared for death.” She patted one of his temples with her free hand.

He opened back his eyes, darkened by something she couldn’t name, his eyebrows furrowed while blinking, searching answers in Y/N’s eyes in vain.

He didn’t understand what the hell she was saying, but it didn’t matter, she was there, by his side, ready to take on the entire world if needed. He was aware of how much she cared and how she was ready to fight till her last breath by his side. And he'll eventually accept he felt the same about her.

The door opened and Arthur’s head picked through.

It wasn’t just Thomas Shelby against the world, it was them against the world. His brother, his lover, and himself.

Tommy coughed and looked at the ground before looking at his brother with squinting eyes. What was so urgent for him to invade their space like that?

Y/N quickly glanced at the reflection in the mirror behind Tommy to see who had entered the room. Seeing the older Shelby brother’s head, she shamelessly closed the gap between Tom’s face and hers, kissing him with strength.

She was surprised to feel Tommy’s rough hands tenderly cupping her face, his thumbs rubbing her soft skin, as he responded to her kiss with as much strength as her.

“We got this, Y/N.” He said in a whisper, without difficulty.

A warm thunderbolt ran down Y/N’s spine as she stepped backwards, her gaze falling on one of her hands gripping tightly onto Tommy’s jacket.

Even if she tried not to show it, the plan was so big and meant so much that it got her nervous.

Her cheeks reddened a bit but the man couldn’t quite grasp at this vision of her as she almost ran out of the room.

Now that he was showing affection, he was making her flee.

Well, he still hadn’t cracked the code to Y/N’s character.

“Come on Y/N, we’ve been there.” Tommy’s deep voice reached her ears in a huff.

“I know but I want you to tell me all over again.” She turned her naked body to him.

He exhaled deeply and lit a cigarette before explaining to her the plan again. He flattened the white sheet on the bed and created a wrinkle on it to show her the stage.

“Mosley and I will be here,” he then put the used matchstick on the sheet in front of the representative stage, “Barney will be up there, waiting for the sign to shoot.”

Y/N frowned and hit his hand along with the matchstick, “get this shit out my bed, this is an expensive sheet, Sergent Major.”

Tom chuckled as he bent over to her to grab her wrists, forcing her to lean all over him, “Come to me reporting for your duty, then.”

She giggled and grabbed his cig, smoking while drowning in his icy blue eyes.

It was routine now for them to share intimate moments late at night. From staying up late in the Shelby Brother Company limited office, looking to the ceiling, Tom upgraded to visit Y/L/N’s manor.

And inevitably, the lust between them eventuated in their bodies intertwining in all different kinds of places.

Tonight was the bed, fortunately for Y/N’s back as their last night’s epic adventure led them outside the house, in the nearby woods.

One of his hands wandered on her bruised body, other marks of their passionate nights along with burn marks caused by her carpets…

His eyes, thirsty of her, followed the path of his hand with as much attention as he would pay to horse racing.

Y/N found the face he made funny. She couldn’t read him, as hard as she would try, but she knew he felt good there, with her, and it was all that mattered at the moment. It was only them in this space. It was their war zone. Here, he wasn’t at the head of a gigantic gang nor the right hand of a fascist, and she wasn’t running a feminist organisation, no.

They were just lovers bearing their soul to each other, as silly as it sounded. And they wouldn’t trade it for nothing.

“Brother,” Arthur called Tommy back to reality. “Know she’s something else,” he raised his brows in understanding, “but Mosley’s been searching you out there.”

Tom ignored his brother’s remark and cleared his throat, by-passing Arthur.

That one didn’t miss the occasion to drop a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, “I’m happy for you, brother.”

And as little as this was, it was enough for Tommy to be relieved of whatever was heavy on his shoulders.

The simple fact he still got his brother meant something deep.

He was ready to make his plan shift from his head to reality. By the end of this day, he’ll be at the head of English fascism, following Oswald Mosley’s death.

He will reach his ambition.

Following Chapter ❱

PEAKY BLINDERS TAG: @retromafia

#Tommy Shelby x reader #peaky blinders #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby #peaky blinders fic #tommy shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x y/n

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years ago

Text

Day 27, Post #2 by @booksforevermore13

Author: @booksforevermore13

Summary:

"Well, considering the fact that you just asked me out - “

“and the fact that you turned me down,” he countered.

“- why not? she finished, grinning broadly. “And-and, if I had turned you down,” Ginny added, “I wouldn’t be going with you now, would I?”

“Fair enough."

Ginny’s spent the last two hours alone in a coffee shop. Luckily, a handsome stranger steps in

Pairing: Harry/Ginny

Prompt:

Meet-cute

Coffee Shop AU

Rating: T

...

“Sorry I’m so late love, traffic is crazy right now,” he said loudly, overly loud to be called normal. Ginny looked around, sure the entire cafe could hear him from where he was standing. Not to mention he was an unnaturally handsome man, and men like that tend to grab a lot of attention in a coffee shop.

Did she mention she had never seen him before?

Ginny watched him glance around and glare at a man staring at them, then bend down towards her. She almost automatically leaned away from him, and in all likelihood, she supposed he could see that she was uncomfortable, for he made sure to keep a safe distance between them.

Somehow, she felt that he was going to do that anyway.

“I’m Harry, just go with it, yeah? Whoever didn’t bother to show up is a git.”

Ginny frowned, dawning on her that this man she’d never seen in her life, who could essentially be a serial killer for all she cared, was trying to save her from the embarrassment that would follow when she got up after her two hour long wait in solitude.

Okay, fine.

She lied.

Her boyfriend, no, she’d not considered him one for months now, but anyway, the git stood her up. Technically, he’d always been a git, but she’d thought he’d have the least decency to at least call.

Not that she hadn’t suffered the quiet glances enough, but she particularly didn’t want to see the pity that followed her when she got up to leave.

The self-respecting part of her wouldn’t have waited after the fifteen-minute mark, but she’d stuck around for the sole purpose of being miserable, because there really wasn’t anything else to do. And of course, for the hope that when and if he finally showed up, she’d enjoy giving him a piece of her mind. In the middle of the damn shop.

So, Ginny couldn’t help but smile for the first time that evening, because whoever this stranger was, he was doing a damn good job at turning her evening around.

She watched as he looked around the cafe, and pulled out the chair opposite her, stumbling while trying to sit. He didn’t make eye contact, but when he did, Ginny very nearly was taken aback by the dark green of his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I wouldn’t have sat here hadn’t it been for the - “

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

This close, she could see a lighter green coronary around his iris and try as she did, Ginny couldn’t help the blush spreading across her cheeks.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she told him, and though she was glad he did, she was slightly embarrassed he had had to.

“Sure I did,” he replied while grinning, and it was one of those grins which were infectious enough to make even the likes of her smile. With one hand, she watched as he brushed his hair back, a few strands still over his eyes and Ginny struggled to keep the red away as their eyes met.

“I’m Ginny,” she said.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he replied, and Ginny, for a second there, was overcome with how much of a gentleman he was. Surprisingly enough, she found herself knowing the meaning behind the word, the first time she’d happened to do so, for Michael had been everything but.

“You know,” she shrugged, “if you want, you can walk out right now, right now, and you don’t need to—”

“Why do you assume I want to leave?”

Ginny blinked, taken aback by the interruption. “I just thought,” she stuttered, “you’d, I’d- I just thought you did this out of pity, which is what is expected but —”

“I didn’t...”

“I don’t need it,”she continued, “trust me, I am well aware the person who left me hanging was a git but — hang on, what?”

And Harry laughed, ducking his head, and Ginny felt like she was eleven all over again, blushing at the slightest laugh, riling up at the smallest comment, her hormones all over the place.

“I’m not doing this out of pity,” Harry said, and then he blushed, much to her surprise, red spreading down his neck, and cheeks. “I did this because, I, uhh,” he fumbled for words, and became even more flustered as Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s nothing actually.”

“But?”

“You’re beautiful.”

She laughed at that, relaxing into her seat, enjoying how he’d riled up at that, his face completely red.

For the first time that day, let herself relax, breathing out a sigh of relief. Was it relief or all of her pent up emotions at once? She didn’t know, but all she’d felt for the last few hours had been anger, annoyance, hurt, though the latter she refused to admit. She could only feel so much at once, she knew that, yet Michael had only added to her troubles and Ginny had let him.

She hated herself for that.

A moment later, she spoke up again, leaning towards Harry, still enjoying how he got all flustered by her words. Clearly, he wasn’t as smooth as she thought he had been.

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“Who’s that girl sitting back there,” she gestured, “the one who’s been looking at us for the last few minutes from over her menu?

Harry whirled around, and then started chuckling. The girl in question dropped down again, and Harry turned back.

“That’s Hermione,” he said. “She’s my sister, friend,” he rubbed his neck again, “best friend.”

She shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Ginny had sat through Luna’s entire date with Rolf, she really couldn’t comment on it.

A moment later, Harry spoke up again, as if he’d thought of something important and wanted to get it out of the system. “Can I ask you something?” he said, repeating her words from before.

She smiled, sitting back in her seat. “Fire on.”

“I think now would be a good time to order something,” he said quietly. “That waitress over there has been giving us the stink-eye since before I sat here.”

“Can I tell you something?”

Harry nodded.

“She’s been doing that since the last two hours.”

He started laughing again, ducking his head again, and Ginny joined him, shaking her head in disbelief. She was still having a hard time believing that she was this relaxed around a complete stranger when she couldn’t even be this close with her family.

Nevertheless, she called the woman over here, who introduced herself yet again as Alicia, and then proceeded to rip their orders down in her notepad, stalking away afterwards. When she disappeared behind the counter again, Harry looked at her again, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“What’d you do to rile her up like that?”

Ginny grinned, returning his look. “I don’t blame her, really,” she said and chuckled, “if I was the one with a customer sitting for two hours straight without even drinking one measly coffee, I would have done more than glare.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.”

Ginny looked at him, an eyebrow arched. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?” she teased and Harry scoffed.

“Not even close. I’m trying to, though I don’t think I ever will.”

“Good that.”

Behind him she saw the girl, Hermione, get up, and as Harry followed her gaze and turned, the girl looked at him, and smiled in reassurance, leaving a dollar note on the table and leaving.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s the one, now you be honest, she’s the one who pushed you to meet me, isn’t she?”

He had a sheepish look on his face as he shrugged, and Ginny threw her head back in laughter.

“How did you figure that one out?”

“You’re not as smooth as you think,” she teased, and Harry winced again, ducking his head as he smiled, and Ginny was glad she wasn’t the only one in their interaction behaving like a complete tween.

She took her time, observing him as the silence came after. It felt….comfortable, sitting with him, joking with him. There was a particular ease between them, one she hadn’t failed to notice, one she hadn’t shared with Michael or anyone she’d dated before.

He was handsome, Harry, with his lopsided glasses, and his green eyes sparkling behind them. If she could be so poetic herself, she’d have described it as a storm brewing in his eyes, the green of the forest across her house.

But she hadn’t failed to notice how it was slightly odd that he’d been here at the same time as she, and it was weird because it was a Monday, the busiest day of the week. He wasn’t an athlete, no athlete could be this charming and this flustered at the same time, and she didn’t know any other professions where they had a day off on Monday.

“What were you doing here?” she asked suddenly, and then winced, wondering if her question had been a bit too forward.

But Harry only shrugged. “Nothing of importance, really. I had a day off, so I decided to get out of the house for a change.”

“Sounds reasonable,” she replied. It was quite a mundane reason, nothing like she’d imagined. Nevertheless, she didn’t push him, didn’t ask for details, though that was partly because she knew it wasn’t her place. But over the years, with Michael and Dean and every other bloke she’d been with, constantly nagging her for details, where she’d been, whom she’d been with, why she’d been there with whomever she’d been with, that she knew better.

And she had a strong feeling that Harry appreciated it too.

When their eyes met again, she couldn’t help but smile. He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck again, and then leaned forward slightly.

“What do you want to do now?” he asked, and it was, if she could be so honest (a trait she didn’t possess) concerning that the very first thing Ginny thought was how much of a damn charmer he was and the second: she couldn’t wait to tell Luna.

Not for the first time, she found herself thinking she needed to get a life.

Ginny shrugged. “You’re the one with the plan. I do whatever seems fun at the moment.”

“And what exactly seems fun here right now?”

She looked around, giving a once-over of the place before shaking her head, shrugging.

“Nothing, nada. This is a most literal garbage dump.”

“Then how about we just talk?”

She arched an eyebrow at him, as if contemplating the great mysteries of the universe, before they burst out laughing, her eyes glinting with anticipation. It had been long since she’d felt this, this ridiculous fluttering in her stomach, this tingling she felt every time their fingers brushed together.

God, they were like two giggling teenagers. No wonder everyone was looking at them.

When she checked her watch under the table, it was six in the evening, and night was setting fast, their surroundings already a dusky blue. The door of the coffee shop was open, and every other minute, a huge gust of wind blew in, cool against the summer sun. Other than the two of them, there were only three other people in the shop, and one was just about to leave.

“Can I ask you something?”

Ginny smiled.

“You play for the London Dragons?”

She frowned, slightly taken aback by how he knew that piece of information before he pointed out her jacket.

“Oh,” she chuckled drily. “Yeah, I do. It’s my last year in college.”

“I see.”

Consciously, she tugged her sleeves down, clearing her throat in earnest. One minute she wanted to twirl around the cafe twice, giddy with excitement, and the other she wanted to jump twice in her chair in fear and anticipation.

Michael hadn’t been good for her emotions.

“Okay,” she mumbled. “My turn.” She cleared her throat, and Harry raised an eyebrow, to which she wiggled hers.

“Wh…. do you, um, do that?” She asked.

He looked at her in confusion, a slight smile playing on his face. He was adorable, and Ginny was having a hard time keeping herself from smiling too much.

“Do what?”

“This, when you laugh, you duck your head. Why do you do that?”

“I…..uh, I have no idea. It’s habit, I guess.”

“I see.”

They both solemnly looked at each, and then shared a smile, Ginny still feeling quite tingly in her fingers when they touched his. The couple sitting a few chairs away from them shot them a look, after which they had to shut down their sneaky-glancing contest, but that didn’t last long.

“So,” Harry shot her a mirthful smile, “tell me something about yourself.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow. “You save me from a dateless evening and now, you’re letting me talk about myself? Seems like I should be glad I was abandoned.”

“I think you should be more impressed by the fact that I know nothing about you.”

“And why is that?”

“So the chances of me mansplaining are next to none.”

Ginny laughed, sitting up straight in her chair. She folded her hands and looked at him. “Okay, one,” she started, “I, uhh...have six brothers, older, mind you and all of them are dolts of the highest calibre. Two, I have a dog, named Daisy, she’s a Husky, and the one being I love most in the world, and three, I am currently…. single.”

“Three things?”

“It’s your turn now.”

Harry laughed, and then copied her as he too, sat himself in the same position, his hands on the table, fingers drumming to a noiseless tune. “One, I have no siblings,” he clicked his tongue, and then continued. “Two, I….uh, I am an officer in Scotland Yard, under training though,” he said hurriedly as she looked at him in surprise, “and three, I’m twenty three, and single.”

She smirked, sitting back, satisfied, and trying to ignore the fact that he was single too (and failing miserably). “I didn’t know we had an officer in our midst,” she said.

“Under training.”

“Ah, well, potato, potahto.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head in exasperation, and they sat up as Alicia, the waitress came to their table, holding their order, which she, by all accounts, slammed onto the table.

“Oh well, she’s a pleasant one,” Harry muttered and Ginny smiled into her coffee.

She blew on it and took a sip, before blatantly making a face. “Oh,” she put her coffee down. “That-that’s not good at all.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s bitter. It’s very bitter.”

“Oh,” Harry passed her a sugar packet, one which she graciously ripped open, dumping it’s contents into her coffee, stirring it, as she looked up at him.

“Can I ask you something?” Ginny gestured at his hair, and consciously, he ran his hand over it, as if he knew what she was talking about.

“What’s,” she hesitated, “that scar under your…your hair?”

She knew she’d messed up at that, for his eyes hardened, and he looked down at his plate. It was clearly a painful subject for him, one he wished to keep private and Ginny felt herself thinking she should have kept herself shut.

“I was in an accident,” he explained as their eyes met and Ginny nodded hurriedly, not asking more. She looked away, though she could feel his gaze on her long after she had turned.

“I have a feeling you want to ask something,” she smiled, and Harry nodded as he shifted in his seat.

“He, the person who didn’t show up,” he started, “he didn’t call?”

“No,” she replied sharply, before sighing. It was an awfully personal question, but she felt he deserved at least an explanation for why he had had to step in as her faux. “Michael, the boy, the git, and I,” she clicked her tongue, “well, we are too far gone to do something like that.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Harry said quietly and Ginny shrugged. She’d never broached the subject before, her and Michael’s relationship, if she could even call it one, partly because she hadn’t bothered, and partly because she didn’t know what to feel about it.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I overstepped, I’m sorry”

“No that’s alright,” she said, and waved her hands haphazardly around as if they could prove her point. “I mean we were broken up long before this. Four months, actually. This was basically grasping at needles in a haystack.”

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

“Why didn’t you break up then?” Harry asked and Ginny couldn’t help but laugh. If she had figured that one out, she’d have put an end to this long since.

“I’m a bad girlfriend,” she chuckled drily. “He’s a bad boyfriend. We deserved each other.”

Harry didn’t ask more.

It was a few long minutes before either of them spoke. Her brain was completely blank, one of those times where she didn’t say anything, didn’t think anything, just stared aimlessly at the sugar dissolving in her coffee.

“You know that gets me thinking,” she started, “why the hell did I date that jackass in the first place?” Ginny looked at him, a smile playing on her lips, and a need to make the conversation lighter. “The answer to that question— well, I don’t exactly know— but, well, maybe because we were attracted to each other,” she said, nodding mockingly.

“But then that gets you thinking. I am, for example and this is completely hypothetical, attracted to pie,” Harry raised an eyebrow, hiding a smile, “or this coffee for example, but that doesn’t mean I feel the need to date it.”

She looked at him, and he looked at her, as if he didn’t quite know how to respond, and just like that, they burst out laughing again, as if they hadn’t been talking about her sorry excuse for a love life the very other second.

“I think that neither of us are drunk enough for this conversation,” Harry said between chuckles and Ginny laughed harder.

They paused as Alicia, the waitress shushed them from behind the counter, and looked at each other, both of them struggling to keep the chuckles in.

In a fit, she sipped on her coffee, immediately regretting it as she coughed, spitting the coffee back in the mug again.

“This is worse,” she coughed, gulping the water in. “This is like mud. Like bitter mud and sugar.”

Harry looked at her, slightly concerned before he pushed his chair out and stood up. “Okay,” he said. “That’s it.”

Ginny frowned in confusion, as he pushed the chair back in, slightly disheartened by what he was doing, but he only smiled, holding out his hand for her.

“Care to join me?”

Ginny tilted her head, trying out those words in her head and then laughed, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Where are you going?” she asked, and Harry looked at her, she was yet once again, captured breathless by his eyes on her.

“Anywhere but here,” he said, and Ginny felt her cheeks heating up.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were asking me out on a date.”

“Would that be so bad?”

“I literally just met you!” she exclaimed, chuckling in disbelief. Harry was still looking at her, and she found herself pausing, hesitating and then asking.

“How about, as two people who just met?”

“How about as friends?” Harry countered.

She shrugged, and then smirked. “Fair enough.”

So, when he offered his hand again, Ginny took it, and let him pull her up and as Harry smiled back at her with that grin of his, she couldn’t help but grin like that. In a moment of irony, she realised that had Michael not been a bad boyfriend and her, not the essential definition of the Mad Hatter, they would have never been standing here.

He let go of her hand as she stood up, though it lingered near hers long after he’d left it. Ginny didn’t pull away. She didn’t want to.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked, smiling, and both of them, completely ignorant of the fact that Alicia was now staring pointedly at them.

“Well, considering the fact that you just asked me out - “

“and the fact that you just turned me down,” he countered.

“- why not? she finished, grinning broadly. “And-and, if I had turned you down,” Ginny added, “I wouldn’t be going with you now, would I?”

“Fair enough.”

...

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest romantic #submission

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kim-ruzek · 3 years ago

Text

Iris

Summary: And it’s those memories that she has kept on replaying on repeat in her mind ever since that day, because Adam is right, because she should’ve known, that she should’ve known his heart.

And instead she accused him of cold-blooded murder.

Or; a night at karaoke at Molly's makes Kim realise just how much she loves Adam.

Season 8 au/fix-it. Adam and Kim decided to give their relationship another go after 8x5, no Makayla, but 8x10 still happened how it did, causing them to break up.

Warnings: mentions to canon miscarriage and deaths and shootings.

Word Count: 7.8k

Read on AO3

Notes: This started as a light hearted funny idea just because I wanted to do a fic about Adam singing. The I talked to Cíara and it spiraled. Title from Iris by goo goo dolls (thanks to @fighterkimburgess for suggesting this song as what Adam sings at karaoke).

Enjoy!!

“Burgess!” Kim was so, so close to being out of the door when the desk Sargent spotted her. She inwardly cursed herself for not being quick enough, turning around with a smile on her face.

“Yes, Sarge?” Her voice was sweet but she knew that Trudy wasn’t having any of it.

“You going to the karaoke at Molly’s tonight?” Trudy gave her a look that told her there was only one right answer.

“Ah...hm, I... can’t.” Still, Kim tried to give the wrong answer.

“You’re going. Your trashy television shows will be there tomorrow.” Platt told her firmly, leaving no room for protest. No matter how much she wanted to. Not for the first time, Kim cursed that Trudy and Mouch are co-owners of the bar, even if she knew that Trudy would still make her go just as firmly even if she wasn’t.

It had been one of those cases in Intelligence. Gruelling and tiring and the kind of cases that makes you second guess your faith in humanity. And fifty-one had just come off the third tough shift in a row themselves and so Herrmann had the marvellous idea of a Karaoke night, something his co owners supported.

‘Just a bit of fun’, Herrmann had pitched as he spread the word. He only had a day to plan and tell them about it, but that was okay, depending it was for fifty one and intelligence, not the greater public.

It’s a good idea, and definitely would be good to raise and rebuild morale; it had taken quite the hit in their first responders family, understandably, with everything going on. Logically, Kim knows this. She can respect and acknowledge that it’s a good idea and something that Herrmann should do for all of them, but that doesn’t stop her from really, really not wanting to go.

It’s nothing, really, about Molly’s or Herrmann, or Trudy. Nothing personal, anyway. Lately, Kim hasn’t felt much like socialising—never mind doing karaoke—and going out tonight, dressing up and having to force herself to be around everyone, it sounds like her own personal hell.

Well, not everyone, just the one person; just Adam.

As far as Kim’s concerned the worst part of work hasn’t been the case. It has nothing to do with the gang war and the children who were caught up in it, as tough as those cases always are. It has nothing to do with the spike of fentanyl in the drugs and the many lives it’s taken. It’s because of Adam.

It’s always, Kim thinks, because of Adam.

The last eight years of her life, it’s always been because of Adam. Not work being unbearable, but anything happening in her life. Her day starts and ends with Adam, it always has, even when it doesn’t.

Even in those moments in her life where Adam is so far from her thoughts. Even when she’s sharing a bed with other men. Even when she hates—no, never hate. Not for him, anyway; herself perhaps, but never him—him.

Even when the only time in the day she thinks of him is because they’re working together. Even when all those thoughts are purely professional.

It’s always Adam.

There’s something about him, from that moment he called her over in Molly’s, that was forever imprinted onto her. His very essence wrapping around her soul, becoming just as part of her as her blood is.

Her air. It’s a thought she’s had so many times before, that he’s her air. That she never breathes as clearly as she does when she’s with him, when his arms are around her. And that air never quite stops coming to her like it does when he’s gone.

It’s a thought that she wishes—wishes so hard—that she had told him that.

Told him it before... Well before that day. Before those words came out if her mouth, never to be unheard, to break what was already barely put together, the cracks of the numerous previous breaks still so clear.

Maybe then things would’ve gone differently; maybe then she wouldn’t be suffocating.

Kim knows that’s not fair. Telling Adam that he’s her air would’ve done nothing to prevent this from happening, from this becoming her life. Adam, after all, is not the reason she’s suffocating, drowning in the water of her own tears—she, herself, is.

She was the one who didn’t think. She was the one who let her own fears, worries and anxieties rule her mind, her heart and her mouth. She was the one who broken, who had marred herself, who had darkened her own soul, spirit and heart.

It was all Kim, she knows this. God knows she’s had many lonely, cold nights to realise that, to let the knowledge sink into her.

Adam is her... Well, her everything. It’s something she’s recently truly came to terms with; that she’s finally understood, more than she ever thought was possible, the old adage of you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.

Many nights Kim has laid in bed, staring up at her ceiling, realising she’d give up just about everything just to touch him again, to have him touch her.

To have him let her back in, to let her come close, to let her be in the warmth of his sun.

And it’s those same many nights that Kim has realised that she could give up everything and anything, but that there’s not enough in the world to ever make that possible. That because she was selfish, because she didn’t try to acknowledge how broken she was inside, Kim lost him.

Kim hurt him in the worst way, and there’s no undo button for life. No way to reverse and undo the damage that had been done, especially when it’s just one more scar on top of so many others.

What did you do?

Those words have gone around and around in Kim’s head since she said them, since she saw the hurt in Adam’s eyes, since she saw the video evidence and since he shut that door in her face.

Kim could dissect exactly why she said that—she has, in fact, in those lonely cold nights—but the whys, they don’t matter. All that matters is the aftermath, the impact of her words. That in the moment, she doubted who Adam is, and forever shattered their relationship.

It’s something Kim never should’ve said.

Not because it’s hurtful and untrue to him, well, not just because of that. But because it’s always been Adam, ever since eight years ago, even before she fell completely and utterly head over heels in love with him.

Kim has always known who Adam is. She’s one of the first people ever to, and she saw who he is without him even needing to try hard to show her. Because she understood him, because she saw him on a level it’s taken others years too.

Because she saw him on a level that others still haven’t.

If she tried, Kim doesn’t know if she could pick just one favourite moment in all her years of knowing Adam. There’s so much good, even when things were anything but. But those first moments of their relationship, when they were still so young and blissfully unaware about what awaited them, those never fail to put a smile on her face.

And Kim can’t say just how many times she’s replayed the first moment she just got something about Adam, instinctively, and he had clearly not expected that and just looked at her with awe and adoration.

Or how many times she replayed telling him that he can be himself around her, that she will never judge him, that she knows him.

And it’s those memories that she has kept on replaying on repeat in her mind ever since that day, because Adam is right, because she should’ve known, that she should’ve known his heart.

And instead she accused him of cold-blooded murder.

There’s been many mistakes in her life, many things that she regrets. But it’s no competition as to what she regrets the most, that in just the space of a few seconds, she destroyed Adam and her, destroyed those eight years of history and connection, with only a few words.

In Kim’s line of work, you fast learn that everything can go wrong in such a short span of time. On the nights all of them, all their first responder friends, gather around and talk and it inevitably goes to the horrible things they witness, this is something they all agree on.

That it only takes a split second to go from everything being fine to nothing ever being fine again.

Looking back now, Kim knows that she was playing with fire. That they encourage all the down-on-their-luck victims to seek help, that they even encourage the criminals to do what’s best for themselves and their peers, their family, but that Kim never applied that to herself.

She had been playing with fire for years. Kim sees the looks her unit gives her, whenever there’s a child involved in a case. Not pitying, but a look that clearly shows that they know, oh they know, that she lost a part of herself that day in the motel.

That she was broken, and that they know, even if they don’t think about it, there’s always going to be that broken part of her.

But what they don’t know is that she had been broken for years. They know that maybe she plays with fire whenever the cases are child-focused, but they don’t know just how close she is to the flames normally.

Not their fault, of course. Kim carefully constructs herself, that she hides so much of her even from herself. It’s something—perhaps wilfully—that she’s ignored herself, that she was sitting beside the flames and ignoring the smoke all around her.

The only person who saw how close she was to burning herself is the very person she continued to push away.

Adam knows her as well as she knows him, and he sees her—sees her in a way she can’t even see herself. There was a moment, years ago, a month after she was shot, and she was still so, so bothered by the ugly scar it left. Adam had gently traced it with his fingers, looking at her with love and adoration, whispering how he wishes she could see herself like he sees her.

Kim has often thought about this in the years that came after, and more and more since that day she ruined everything. At nights she finds herself wishing that she could’ve, because it may have only been seconds that destroyed them, but she had made the cracks for years.

That if she hadn’t been chiselling away at them, maybe it wouldn’t have totally shattered them. That maybe, maybe, he would’ve been open to talking it out with her.

Kim knows, understands, why he isn’t. She gets it, and doesn’t fault him for it. But maybe, maybe if they weren’t so broken before, his hurt wouldn’t be so deep. That it would be seen as just one lapse.

Because that’s what it would be, just one lapse in judgement. But the truth of it is, that isn’t the reality. It wasn’t just that one moment, wasn’t just those few seconds, it was everything that came before it.

Accusing Adam of murder would always be a devastating blow to their relationship. But Kim can’t help regretting all she did before then, because she had made the damage before those words ever passed her lips.

In that one question, that one accusation—because that’s what it was—Kim doubted who he was, his character, the very essence of who he is.

It was a betrayal. It would always be a betrayal. But she had spent years before the fact doubting him, showing that there was a part of her that she was too scared to give him. Even when she agreed to give them another go, Kim knows she still held that little bit back, and she knows he knew that.

She was going to give it him, she knows that too. This time, Kim was committed to them, to make them work. And she knew that she’d need to work on herself, to make it so.

But there’s a difference between knowing and doing.

And Kim had continued along her selfish path. That she didn’t fully understand—or, perhaps, wanted to understand—exactly what working on herself would entail. That she dragged her feet on it, thinking that tomorrow she’ll do it, all while knowing that tomorrow would never come.

They had made some big and important strides in this new try of dating they had been doing. The night after they hooked up again, and Adam had convinced her to sit down and have a conversation about them, they both agreed that they needed to do some serious work.

Talking about your issues, making rules in relationships, it’s not the most fun or sexy moments but they knew it was important. Adam had told her that he wanted everything she wanted, and Kim had told him that she was scared.

And things were good.

They weren’t perfect, not by far, but they were good.

It makes sense. After Kim lost their baby, they had grown closer. That foundation, that connection and bond, between them had been worked on and they had developed a routine. There was some sort of communication between them, and dating was just an extension of that.

But they still were so lax, more lax than they should’ve been.

Or rather, Kim was lax. Adam was too, but he was faultless, because he was only following her pacing. That he respected her fears and didn’t push her, and instead of appreciating that to work on her brokenness, she took advantage of it.

And so things were good, but still so broken.

And then Adam was ranting about his dad and the trouble he was in, and Kim let that broken, hurt part of her take over, instead of the goodness that’s still buried deep inside her from when she first fell for him and she might as well have taken a sledgehammer to their relationship.

And if she just worked on herself. If she had worked on herself before this all happened, before they even began dating again. If she hadn’t spent years holding parts of herself back, always setting them on the slow path, then maybe those words wouldn’t have severed that final straw.

It was a betrayal, a doubt. But it was a doubt upon a doubt upon a doubt.

Adam’s words have replayed back in her mind every day since. I thought you’d know my heart. And he’s right, she should’ve.

And that’s why it was such a betrayal, why it did so much damage. Because Kim has spent years pushing Adam away, and he had kept trying, never letting the hurt sink too deeply, because he had that belief that even as she pushed and doubted him, that she knew him, knew his heart.

And in those few seconds, Kim stole that belief away from him.

It doesn’t matter that she does know his heart. It doesn’t matter that she loves him. It doesn’t matter that she’d do anything to fix them, that she’d give up her arm just to have him smile at her one, last time.

The damage has been done, that her wish all these years, her pushing him away; it finally worked. And it doesn’t matter that she regrets it, that she’d undo it, because this is life.

Kim played with fire and she got burnt.

She has accepted this. Kim is in pain, such incredible pain, and she misses him with all she has. But she’s accepted that this is her fault, that she and only she caused this and she must accept the consequences of her actions, no matter of the how’s and why’s she did it.

There’s a large, masochistic part of her that tells her that she deserves to feel this pain, and she’s not going to argue against that, but pain is pain.

Seeing Adam every day at work is agony. It doesn’t matter that it’s all her fault, it hurts being so close to him and yet so far. It hurts hearing him talk to her so cordially, and only when he needs to. It hurts when she sees him laugh at something funny Kevin or Jay says, knowing she’ll never make him laugh again.

It hurts that she forces herself to look away when he does so, or when he smiles, because she doesn’t feel like she’s entitled to see that side of him after everything she did. It hurts that she has to act as if she’s not dying inside and that she can’t even help soothe his own hurt.

Kim powers through, it’s work. It’s his work. It’s her work. It’s what’s best for them, the unit, the city. But by gods, does it hurt.

And at the end of the day, all Kim wants to do is go home and curl up in her bed and try not to think about how it no longer smells like Adam. She doesn’t want to go out. She doesn’t want to see anyone. She doesn’t want to do anything. She doesn’t want to keep being someone, that if people are seeing her, then she’s existing and if she’s existing, she’s hurting.

The pain, the agony, in her heart; she feels as if she’s dying. She feels numb and full of pain at the same time, and she’s full of hatred for herself and self pity. And she doesn’t want to see anyone, especially people who know her business, who knows about Adam and her, who will be trying to understand how she is—not knowing that no one can, that no one knows the intricacies of Adam and her, that no one can understand that pain.

Well, no one but Adam, and that’s the whole problem within itself. That the one person she wants to understand, who does understand, wants nothing to do with her.

And it might be selfish of her, but Kim doesn’t want to see him having fun. She’s not naive enough to think that he’s not also hurting, because of course he is, because she knows him, but she broke them and he’s trying to get over her.

There’s a part of her, probably still her inner masochist, that’s happy that Adam can still have fun despite the pain. And of course, that’s the best scenario she could want for him. But that doesn’t mean Kim wants to see it.

That she wants to witness it. Be a part of it.

Especially all while trying to pretend that she’s not dying inside.

Even on a normal night, even if Adam wasn’t going to be there, Kim would not want to go out. She hasn’t gone out since he shut the door in her face—even cancelling on her monthly girls night with Sylvie and Kelly. But a karaoke night, at Molly’s, with their mutual friends all around them—that sounds more like torture then fun.

But Trudy is Trudy.

It’s not a lack of understanding that’s why Trudy wants her to go out, Kim knows that. It’s the opposite. Trudy knows her so incredibly well, and she knows that Kim won’t ever go out if she doesn’t start trying.

It doesn’t make it easier or makes Kim want to go any more. And god, she tried her hardest to avoid the desk Sargent, knowing that if she didn’t run into her then she wouldn’t have to go. But Trudy is the closest thing Kim has to a parent, and she trusts her implicitly, and not doing what Trudy—in her own way—is advising her to do is a thought so far from her mind.

So she resigns herself to an evening where she’ll wish she’s anywhere but there, all while waiting for the time it gets less painful to be around—(Adam)—everyone.

It doesn’t take long for Kim to get ready. Just a quick shower—a rinse over; a quick thing to wash away the day and before she could remember what it felt like to have Adam standing behind her, sharing the shower, running his hands with a familiar ease over her body, calling it ‘helping’.

Or that was the aim, at least. But there’s no short enough time in the world for Kim to never remember that; the memories flooding back as soon as the water is turned on.

The shower is probably the longest part of her getting ready, the getting dressed easy and done quickly. Just some jeans and a nice shirt and she is done. If this is a night out she actually wanted to go out on, she’d be making good time.

But she doesn’t want to, so even though she’s ready with time to spare, Kim drags her feet, doing this and that in her apartment before leaving—anything to prolong the time until she has to be in Molly’s, around everyone (Adam).

The only thing that kicks her into action is the realisation that if she’s late, all eyes will be on her when she enters and that would just make everything that much worse.

Molly’s is pretty full when she arrives, but there’s still a few missing faces and Kim feels so relieved that she managed to arrive at an okay time. She hesitates slightly when she enters, wondering where to go, where to sit, and she feels almost as if she’s back in high school, her nerves piling up just as high as back then.

“Kim!” Sylvie is all smiles, living up to her personality of being sunshine personified. The blonde paramedic is bouncing up to her, immediately grabbing her hand and dragging her over to where she was sitting.

It’s at a table with Stella, Kelly and Matt. They’re all her friends, they’re not strangers, but the relief Kim feels at being at their table might’ve made one think that they were. It’s not like they’re not friendly, in some ways they’re very close, but Kim feels less pressured with them, less like they’re trying to see through her.

Not that her unit would, of course not. But with how she’s feeling, it’s different being around them opposed to her firefighter friends.

And it’s not like that she wouldn’t sit with them on a usual day, she would. Although normally, Kim would at least go greet her unit and her other med and fifty one friends, maybe just giving them waves at the minimum. But now, Kim sits down and practically tries to blend into the seat, not wanting to attract any attention.

Bless Sylvie, knowing that Kim might not be the most comfortable, allowed Kim to sit closest to the wall and is calling to Herrmann with her usual drink order, instead of Kim having to go up to the bar.

Kelly immediately brings her into a small, silly disagreement him and Matt are having, Stella quickly encouraging her to laugh and playfully tease ‘the boys' with her. Kim doesn’t know if they’re doing it because they can sense how uncomfortable she is feeling, but she appreciates it nevertheless and thinks that if the evening can just be like this, Kim in a corner with people who aren’t making her feel on display, maybe it’ll be alright.

The evening progresses.

Kim can’t say that she’s exactly pleased or happy she came out. She spends a lot of the time wishing for her comfy pjs and her duvet and her trashy shows that she can just get lost in. But it’s not as awful as she thought, in her little corner, the four of them always flocking her.

At times, she’s even having fun. There’s when Trudy gets up to do karaoke, which is always a hoot. There’s when Trudy and Mouch do a duet, the whole pub in laughter at the funny but cuteness of it. And there’s the joking her table does, the teasing of Sylvie when the boys go and get more drinks and Kim and Stella teases Sylvie over Matt and the laughing at Matt and Kelly behaving like teenage brothers.

Kim laughs, sometimes, and sometimes she forgets that Adam is in the bar as well. It doesn’t last, inevitably she looks around and catches sight of Adam, sat beside Kevin and everything turns to dirt instantly.

Her heart twists and she feels as if she’s being stabbed and then her laughter fades and she wonders how she ever could, when the love of her life is not far from her and yet he—rightfully—hates her.

Sylvie seems to notice every time, however, and tries her best to bring her back to her laughter, trying to help her forget about Adam being so close. It’s those times that Kim is truly grateful for having a friend like Sylvie—and for Kelly, him dragging Kim’s attention away from Adam when Sylvie’s busy with the karaoke.

“Come on stage with me,” Sylvie encourages her on one of the happy moments, when Adam is as far from her mind as he can be amidst her broken heart. “We’ll do we're never ever getting back together!”

Karaoke is one of Kim’s favourite things to do with Sylvie, the two getting drunk and singing all kinds of love songs, laughing while they do so. And since their friendship started, they have a tradition that whenever the one—or booth—has a heartbreak or is just annoyed at men, they sing it together. It doesn’t even have to be at a pub’s karaoke night, sometimes just being in the comfort of their own homes.

It’s some of Kim’s warmest memories, but tonight is just not the night for it. This is Adam, Adam who’s right there. Adam who is only no longer hers because of her, and it wouldn’t feel right. And then there’s that Kim doesn’t want to get up in front of everyone; not when she’s trying so hard to be a chameleon.

“I’ll go with you,” Matt offers after Kim gently turns Sylvie down, the other woman pouting slightly, despite the understanding in her eyes. Kim guesses she should be grateful for both Sylvie’s understanding and Matt’s offer—and she is—but she still catches Stella’s eye, the two women grinning knowingly at Sylvie.

The night is well in swing, and Kim notes that she could probably leave now, and it would’ve filled her obligation to Trudy. But she also notes that she’s a little reluctant too, enjoying being able to be semi distracted from her despair over Adam.

Progress, Kim thinks. But not long after she thinks that, Adam is walking to the karaoke and Kim knows that the chance that she can ignore his presence is now slim to none.

His hair is messy, strands hanging over his face slightly, and it reminds her of the night he shut the door in her face and it aches her heart. Aches, hurts, it because all she can think about is that night and aches it because all she can think is about the times it’s been like that because they’ve had sex, because she mussed it up, because he didn’t have time to style it.

Adam chooses to sing Iris by the goo goo dolls, but it’s no surprise, not really. Kevin and Kim have joked many times that Adam has only one karaoke speciality, because he always—at one point in the evening—will always sing it.

It’s not just his one speciality, of course. One of the most surprising things Kim learnt about Adam when they first started dating is about how musically talented he is. That he doesn’t just have a good voice when he’s playfully doing harmonics at work, but that he can—and does—sing.

And it’s something Kim has always loved, always loving it whenever he’d sing—especially when he’d get out his guitar and play for her.

But it’s one of his favourite songs to sing, and he has the vocal cords for it.

Really, Kim should’ve predicted that this would happen. But her mind had decided to be in denial, maybe hoping that Adam doesn’t want everyone’s eyes on him like she doesn’t want, but that’s apparently not the case and she’s wishing she just left, not wanting to hear Adam sing.

Not wanting the memories it will stir up. Not wanting to be reminded of just how badly she fucked up. Not wanting to have her heart break all over again when it still hasn’t recovered.

Kim tries to focus on the joke Kelly is saying, but her eyes can’t settle, her ears can’t hear. She can’t hear anything but Adam’s voice—his frankly beautiful—beginning to start the song, can’t concentrate on anything but the lyrical words that are falling out his mouth.

Memories of when they were happy and they were at karaoke comes flooding back to her. It’s not even memories of them being together—they may have spent the last eight years barely going ten months without sleeping together, but they’ve been not-a-couple longer than they ever were, in total. Just them drinking and laughing and just having fun. When things were easier, simpler, when he could stand to be around her, before she fucked everything up.

Memories of them at work, on a stakeout or just in the bullpen, and Adam is bored and is just humming dance around in her mind as well. Of when the bullpen wasn’t filled with a tense unease, where jokes and laughter was happily exchanged, where they felt like friends, like a family.

And the memories of them being together, of their quiet intimate evenings alone. Of them cooking together, watching random stuff on the telly or just cuddling and just being together and Adam just picking up a tune, singing odd lyrics.

Singing love ballads to her, even when they weren’t together, yet was in everything but title. Singing to her and playfully spinning her around, just for a second, just for a random second, but a second of showing her that he loves her, of treating her as if she’s his life, his bride to spin and to make smile and laugh and feel oh so loved.

Of humming this song under his breath when he’s doing something menial, like the dishes or laundry and catching her eye and just belting—but so beautifully and in tune—a line to her, grinning that grin of his as he does so, before going back to what he was doing, back to his humming.

Of the memory the morning after she told Voight that she was pregnant, and Adam had stayed over, them discussing what this would look like. Of Adam looking as if a load had been taken off him, and of how he had laid his hand over her flat stomach, singing softly—softly to her and the baby.

Of how he only got to do that a handful of times but how he deserved to have been able to do it more. Of how he deserved to be able to hold their baby in his arms and to sing to them, to see them hear his voice, know his voice, to smile and be soothed by his voice.

That oh so familiar pain, that familiar ache, in Kim’s heart returns and she grips her beer bottle that much harder, as if that would keep the pain at bay. It’s always painful thinking about what could have beens, especially about their baby—especially when it’s about Adam and their baby. There’s still a part of Kim that blames herself for what happens, and she never feels like she deserves to be sad about what she’s missed out on, but Adam... Adam was as faultless in that as much as he was in the end of their relationship, and it hurts her to think about all she made him miss out on.

And it’s even more painful knowing that she won’t be able to soothe that ache, that pain, in Adam’s arms, the only place she’s closest to her lost baby; in the arms of their father. Painful despite it being selfish of her for even wanting to.

Maybe it wouldn’t be as painful if it wasn’t this song. Not because of the memories, not because of all the times Kev and her have teased him over it—well, not just because. But because the words hit too close to home, hits close to her heart, the ache it leaves ricocheting through her body.

Kim isn’t one to apply lyrics to her own life, not really, not since her teenage years. Sylvie loves it, loves putting on music which not only speaks to her mood but what she’s directly thinking and despite the two having many girls’ nights giggling to various music, Kim doesn’t make the habit of picking songs that reflects her own mind.

She could spend time dissecting why-- that it makes her feel too exposed, because her work makes her want to always appear tough, that she can’t hide from how she feels if she’s thinking about it—but it doesn’t matter, all that matters is how, now, she feels.

How, now, she can’t ignore the words Adam is singing.

It’s just his song that he sings. Nothing more, nothing less. There’s nothing to take from it, nothing that should be making Kim feel this way. It’s not like it’s a reflection on how he feels, a purposeful choice, it’s just Adam with a few beers in him, singing the song he always sings.

But the words hit her deep, and all she can think about how they apply to her, to him, to them. That all she can think about is how it highlights what went wrong, that she doubted his heart then, after years of doubting his heart.

Adam sings the song well, delivering the notes perfectly even in his tipsy—drunk?—state, hitting the emotional lows and highs at all the right times. It’s just him performing, but maybe it’s the alcohol coursing through Kim’s veins, but it hits her, feeling like it’s him, not just a performance, sounding so raw and real.

It grabs at her heart, twisting it so painfully in such a deep, aching way.

All Kim wants to do is hold him, is to be with him. To cover his face in kisses, to hold him close, to tell him that he’s hers and she’s his and that’s how it’ll be for eternity. That she loves him, that she knows him, that her soul is his, entwined so tightly and closely around each other it’s impossible to tell who’s is who that it’s essentially just one.

And it hits her; she loves him.

Kim knows this, of course. And if she didn’t, the pain she has been feeling over these weeks without him would be the tell. That she feels empty, like a part of her is missing because Adam is not beside her is because she loves him; that her love burns brighter and more fiercely than an exploding sun.

But this evening, she only embarked upon this because Trudy wanted her to see that she can put herself together again. That things will get easier, that she can adjust to life without part of herself. And she had thought so, had saw it as a possibility as she laughed at her table’s jokes, as she got lost in those moments without thinking about Adam close by.

Now Kim can see—can feels—that’s nothing but a pipedream. That she loves Adam so, so much and things will never get easier to be without him. That this pain is hers and hers forever. That her life will only ever be made up of small moments where she’s without pain but that she’ll never be free.

Adam is where her story begins, where her life is. And she’ll never get him again, because she was selfish and she pushed him away and doubted him in the most awful way. Kim has accepted this, and now she accepts that her life will never get easier.

It doesn’t make it any easier to feel, to experience.

She can’t stay here, at Molly’s. She just can’t. It might be Kim’s fault why everything fell apart but she’s only human, and the ache in her heart—the ache of pain for hurting him and the ache of desire of wanting him—getting too much.

Kim puts down some money next to her beer, and she’s scooting past Sylvie, thankful that the paramedic had stood up only a few minutes before. Molly’s is crowded, and so she can high-tail it out of there without much attention and for that she is glad.

Sylvie calls after her, however, obviously concerned at her friend leaving so suddenly and Kim shouldn’t turn back to look at her, but she does, only a glance. But she miscalculates and she accidentally locks eyes with Adam and, god, it just makes the ache in her hurt that much more and she knows that she needs to go, go, go.

The cool night air hits her but it does nothing for her pounding inside her heart, does nothing to help her no longer feel like she’s on the edge of a cliff and she’s about to fall. Kim regrets deciding to drink, that she didn’t drive herself here so that she can’t just jump in a car and get as far away from here as possible.

Instead she paces the pavement, her fingers quickly working her phone to get a taxi. There’s the slight hum from the music inside which permeates through the night air, and it just makes it harder to forget the sight of Adam, looking so lovable and fuckable, and how she’s no longer allowed to think such things.

“Kim, what’s up?” Sylvie has followed her, looking concerned.

“It’s just,” Kim waves her hands in vague gesture at Molly’s. “Too much. I need to go home, I just can’t.”

“I understand. I can go with you, if you need some company? But Kim—you work with Adam. You need to get used to being around him in informal settings as hard as that is.” Sylvie reminds her gently.

“Maybe I’ll transfer,” It’s meant as a joke, but her tone is flat, and it hits wrong. Kim isn’t being serious, but there’s that little bit of truth, that it would be easier, and it rings through her words.

“Kim,” Sylvie gives her an empathetic look. “Just—talk to him.”

“What, like how you’re talking to Matt? Anything but how you feel?” Kim can’t help interrupt her, her tone clipped. Her friend shoots her an unamused look.

“That’s different. Matt and I haven’t dated, we don’t have half the history you and Adam do. And I’m okay working with him, but if you’re even thinking about that, even in a joking way, just talk to him. I know he’s hurting and you are, but you two belong together, don’t let your pride get in the way of that.” Rationally, Kim knows Sylvie makes sense and that she’s just looking out for her, but any sense of rationality is being blocked by the throbbing ache in her heart.

“It’s not pride. He hates me. And with good reason. There’s nothing I can say that can fix that and just—just leave it okay?” She snaps.

“Okay. Do you want me to go home with you?” Ever the angel, Sylvie backs down and Kim wishes that she was less in pain so she could appreciate it.

“I’m fine.” Her voice is calm, cold, final. Sylvie sighs, giving her one more look, before she heads back inside the bar. Kim’s taxi arrives shortly after.

It’s not even two hours later that Kim’s in a taxi again, bouncing her leg as the cabbie drives, tapping her foot out of nerves and impatience.

Kim wonders what the taxi driver will be thinking about her. There’s the smell of alcohol on her breath, and she can barely sit still in the seat, moving around nervously. She hadn’t looked at her hair before she left her apartment—again—but depending she just lay down on a sofa and half screamed moaned into her pillow, Kim would be surprised if it wasn’t at least slightly unruly, mussed a bit.

In truth of it all, the taxi driver probably hasn’t given two thoughts towards her since she got in. She’s just going to be yet another customer, just one of many he’ll have this night and the nights to come. And in Chicago, he’s probably seen all walks of life, people who look more like car crashes and disaster than her slightly un-put together, anxious self.

But focusing on thinking about this helps distract her mind from where she’s going—to Adam’s—and this borderline crazy idea to do so.

Adam has made it clear that he doesn’t want to hear from her. That she has cut him deep, and that she ruined whatever they were building together. He doesn’t want to hear her excuses, no matter how reasonable it seemed to her at the time.

But Kim’s not coming with excuses.

There’s not the aim to fix this, to get back together. Well, there’s not not that. Kim doesn’t really know what it is, what she wants from it, not really. She would love, of course, if Adam could see them trying to rebuild, but she only wants that if he truly can. If he can do it without compromising any part of himself, Kim has asked for pieces of him far too much to ever let him give her more.

It’s just... Lying in her apartment, alone, the dark—Kim hadn’t bothered to turn on her lights, because what’s the point—all Kim wanted was Adam.

Kim’s not coming with excuses or half apologies or propositions. She just can’t stay away from him, she just needs...

Well, Kim doesn’t know what she needs. Her mind is telling her that she needs him to know something, or needs to see her, but isn’t telling her what or why. Kim doesn’t even think she actually knows, that she’s just driven by this need.

It’s not a selfish need—not anymore selfish than any other action, that is. It’s just this inexplicable need. It’s, Kim thinks, possibly the most selfless need because it comes with no expectations or reasons, no outcomes or purposes.

And yet it’s the most selfish thing Kim has ever done. Not selfish in a bad way, nor even in a good way. But just in a selfish way, or maybe... Maybe if you can be selfless, maybe this is self-full.

Because it’s selfish in the way that it’s the first thing she’s ever done for herself just because. Everything else she hems and haws over and considers so many factors, where this is just done because she needs Adam, and because she knows, knows, Adam will be missing her.

He hates her, yes. He wants nothing to do with her and has been so hurt. But their love... Their love is like nothing else, fierce and strong, deep and true. He misses her when she’s in his arms, as she does too. Even with what she said, even with him wanting nothing to do with her, he’ll be missing her.

Kim’s not naive enough to convince herself otherwise anymore.

Kim’s knocks on Adam’s door goes unanswered and it’s only then that she realises that Adam might not even be home yet, that she didn’t leave Molly’s too long ago, that those nights can go on for quite a while and there’s no reason why Adam would be home.

There’s a feeling of defeat hanging heavy in her heart but she just leans against the wall beside his door, refusing to leave. Even if she has to wait hours, even if he just ignores her, Kim is determined to at least lay her eyes on Adam one more time tonight.

Kim isn’t waiting long. At least, she doesn’t think that much time has past. Adam has appeared, walking down his corridor, a look of surprise on his face at her being here. There’s a part of her mind, far at the back, that remembers that night she told Voight about the baby, and how this is like the opposite of then.

“Kim.” Adam stops a few feet away from her. The surprise is clearly displayed on his face, and in his voice. She turns so she’s facing him dead on, surprisingly confident.

“I came here to talk.” She tells him, impressed at how her voice doesn’t waver. He lifts up his eyebrows.

“About what?” If things were good, Kim would’ve playfully hit his arm and teased him, pointing out the elephant between them, about the day she ruined it all. But things aren’t good, so she doesn’t, but still, she can’t help but bring a bit of lightness to the heavy tenseness hovering in the air between them.

“Everything?” She smiles slightly, hoping he gets the reference. The corners of his lips twitch upwards and Kim thinks that means he did.

Adam moves closer and her heart beats way too fast. He’s got his key in his hand, and Kim realises he’s only stepping so close to her so that he can unlock his door, and she’s trying not to be overwhelmed by him being so, so close to her. Trying not to focus on how she can smell him and how easy it would be to touch him, to sink into his arms, to grab him and beg him to hold her and never let her go.

Her mind is going haywire, but she tries to calm her breathing, her heart, trying not to outwardly show how much she wants him to let her in, to give her another chance. Tries to remind herself that he might just shut his door in her face again, that just because he hasn’t told her to fuck off now doesn’t mean he still won’t.

But then Adam, pushing open his door, turns slightly towards her, a ghost of a smile on his face.

“Why don’t you come in?” He offers, indicating for her to enter first. Kim smiles at him, it’s a wider smile than the faint one he gave her, but that’s okay, so much has happened. But Kim accepts the olive branch for what it is, and enters his home.

Everything won’t be sorted over night, but it’s a start. And the important thing is that Kim knows more than ever who Adam is, knows his heart. And that she knows who she is, knows her own heart and she knows that she is Adam’s, even if he no longer wants to be hers.

#burzek #kim burgess #adam ruzek #kim burgess x adam ruzek #Chicago pd #burzek fic #chicago pd fanfiction #ree writes #ree'#ree's.writing

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moononastring · 3 years ago

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Buckle up I am FULL of feelings.

SMTB SPOILERS FOR ANYONE WHO HASNT READ IT YET!

1.) first of all the pacing in this chapter was so good. I liked how you blended their moments with the beginnings of routines and were able to push your story forward without it feeling rushed! I know you’re hoping for an end to this (even though I and many others will be lost without smtb) and this chapter moved things along nicely! I will say it over and over: so. good.

2.) eris being a fashion diva and a princess about being a high lords son is so perfect. I love a character who knows how to look good!

3.) iris finding herself casually touching eris and eris noticing every time she touches him is delightful. I love the contrast of him being basically terrified to touch her because he drinking his respect Iris juice.

4.) the whole wife fondler bit and jealous eris bit was golden

5.) “we both know by now that’s not how it would go” #Irisontop

6.) horny Iris!! And her being scared to kiss him but thinking she wants to I am 🥺🥺

7.) the dagger gift 🥺🥺

8.) her varying her pajamas because she’s more comfortable around him 🥺🥺

9.) LUCIEN IS HOTTER ESPECIALLY BECAUSE OF THE EYE. We knew this now eris has been clued in, poor guy.

10.) the bit about getting under her dress and eris being like “I’m great at multitasking” he is the best sassy flirt.

11.) THAT ENDING HOLY SMOKES HERE COMES BERON AHHHHHHHHH

So you know, bravo. Welcome back 💖

EEEPPP Alisha I love when you come to my inbox ;;; I always look forward to your thoughts!!! and appreciate you so!!!! 🥺💞

I'm so glad you felt that way at the pacing! I was worried it would feel like too much or too confusing but nothing else felt right haha. I know I mentioned wanting to settle the ending soon but uh...I write too much so 🤷🏻‍♀️ don't worry though! even after SMTB ends, Eris x Iris shall live on. I love them too much hehe.

Eris is a little bitch and everyone knows it. Esp his wife XD

I know everyone is eager for the smut but light touching between them is so important and I just love hand touching. It's so very them. They are both people who have never really been soft with anyone else.

He will never, ever let that go tbh. He will ask about the wife fondler on his death bed lmao.

#staytuned 😌

I really wanted to show that while Eris is mad horny all the time...so is Iris 🤣 which you know, dON'T BLAME HER.

a man who knows what's up 😏

...this will come up again :)

Everything I ever write will be a love letter to a mr. lucien vanserra and as you said, Eris now knows too lmao

He is the flirtiest of flirts with his wife.

MWAHAHAHAHA

Thank you for sharing your thoughts! I wanted to reply to each one as you took the time to send them ;;;;; 💞I'm so happy you enjoyed it!!!!!

#asks #smtb asks #alisha tag #I really enjoyed writing this chp so I'm glad you liked it!#thank you🥺

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longitudinalwaveme · 3 years ago

Text

Another Weird Flash/Rogues AU

Awhile ago on AAO3, I read a story with a basic premise of “What if the Kryptonians had left Krypton before it was destroyed, traveled to Earth, fallen under the leadership of Zod (or another group of evil Kryptonians) and enslaved the human race”? The story mainly focused on Bruce Wayne and Kal-El (the latter of whom quickly came to realize the wrongs that the Kryptonians were perpetrating), but, being a huge Flash nerd, I thought: What if I used that same basic idea, but focused on the Flash characters instead? This is the result.

This AU is comparatively very early in the timeline; Barry Allen is 20 years old, Wally is about five, etc.

-Barry Allen was about seven years old when the Central/Keystone area was taken over and its population enslaved. His mother, Nora, was sold away from him shortly thereafter. He and his father (and most of the familiar Flash characters) are owned by some unpleasant Kryptonian, as are most of the characters detailed below. (Superman fans who know the names of evil Kryptonians other than Zod, feel free to make suggestions.) In this universe, Barry’s rather timid and submissive overall. He’s very kind and wants to help people, but unlike Iris (whom he has a massive crush on), he’s not brave enough to stand up to the overseers.

-Nora Allen passed away a few years after the Kryptonian takeover, far away from her husband and son. After mourning for a few months, Henry Allen remarried to a widow named Martha Scudder, and adopted her son, Samuel Joseph Scudder, as a second son. Martha and Henry are devoted to both Barry and Sam.

-Sam Scudder-Allen is 16 years old, four years younger than his older brother. He was three years old when the Kryptonians arrived and was crippled at the age of seven when a heavy piece of farm machinery fell on his leg. He uses a crutch to walk and works as a tailor, since he’s not able to work in the fields. He is rather self-conscious about his “bum leg”, since it means that escaping slavery would be almost impossible for him. He’s also much more willing to stand up to the Kryptonians than his older brother currently is, mainly because he figures that, as a crippled slave, he really can’t get much worse off.

-Iris West, age 19, lives with her father, Ira (her mother died before the Kryptonians arrived), and her nephew, the five-year-old Wally West (both of his parents were sold away shortly after he was born). Fiery and rebellious; she’s been pushing boundaries ever since the Kryptonians arrived and is determined to learn how to read. She thinks Barry is very cute, but refuses to date him until he grows a spine. She won’t allow her children to grow up enslaved to a bunch of aliens.

-George “Digger” Harkness, age 17, was sold to the Central City area from Australia when he was 14 years old. His stepfather, Ian Harkness, hated him so much that he actually volunteered to have him sold away, and Digger found himself living and working alongside total strangers. He’s mouthy and stubborn, but is afraid enough of the Kryptonians that he’s not openly rebelllious.

-Evan McCulloch, age 6, was sold to the Central City area from Scotland only a few months ago. He’s terrified and misses Miss McCulloch badly. He’s also been semi-adopted by Henry and Martha Allen.

-Claudio and Marco Mardon, aged 18 and 17, respectively, and their parents, Paloma and Mattias, immigrated to the United States from Guatemala a few years before the Kryptonians conquered Central City. Surprisingly, the family was not separated and has remained together ever since. Marco, the younger of the two, is clumsy and awkward, but generally keeps his head down and doesn’t cause trouble. As a result, he, ironically enough, is actually the golden child in this reality. Claudio, with his passionate love of learning, rocks the boat too frequently and gets into trouble too often-he’s even taught himself how to read, something that humans aren’t allowed to do under Kryptonian rule. Paloma and Mattias have tried to dissuade him, but to no avail. Marco, on the other hand, greatly admires his older brother and wishes he had his courage, and the two are very close. The family speaks as much Spanish as it does English.

-Roscoe Dillon, age 16, lives and works in his Kryptonian owner’s estate alongside his mother, Rosa. (His father, Reginald, was sold off when Roscoe was nine.) He and Rosa are isolated from most of the other humans; as result, Roscoe has few friends. He’s also more than a little odd (thanks to being on the autism spectrum), but, fortunately for him, his love of routine and organization mean that no one can find fault with his work. He still loves tops and has created dozens of them to play with when he’s not required to work.

-Mick Rory, aged 22, is a soft-spoken gentle giant. His family was killed in the Kryptonian invasion, and he still mourns their loss, but otherwise his life hasn’t changed as much as most of the other humans’. Having grown up on a farm, he’s used to working in the fields and adjusted to the farm labor the Kryptonians required much more easily than did most others. He is friendly and helpful to everyone and has taken in a 7-year-old girl named Linda Park, whose parents were sold off.

-Giovanni Giuseppi, aged 10, lives with his mother, Helen. He and his family, used to a migrant lifestyle from their time in the circus, managed to evade the Kryptonians for quite some time, but, when the Kryptonians finally captured them, his father, Alessandro, was killed; being dropped from a high height. The six-year-old Giovanni, already terrified of heights, was traumatized by this event. He and his mother were then sold to the Central City area. Giovanni is terrified of Kryptonians; as a result, he never disobeys orders. Once lively and energetic, Giovanni is now rather timid and reserved-but he’s still incredibly intelligent.

-Joan Garrick is the widow of Jay Garrick, the Flash, who was murdered by Zod in order to prevent his speed from becoming a threat. She is determined to carry on his work by educating as many people as she can; in the hopes that this will enable them to escape and eventually overthrow the Kryptonians. She is very close to Iris and Claudio, and hopes to teach them everything she knows.

-Hartley Rathaway, age 9, lives with his parents, Rachel and Osgood Rathaway. When the Kryptonians first arrived in Central City, Mr. and Mrs. Rathaway struck a bargain with them; giving them all the knowledge they would need in order to take over the city with ease in exchange for being able to maintain their own wealth, freedom, and power. The Kryptonians used the information provided by the Rathaways to take over the Central/Keystone area...and then enslaved the wealthy couple along with the rest of the city’s populace anyway. Needless to say, Mr. and Mrs. Rathaway are not particularly well-liked by their fellow humans. Not at all accustomed to physical labor or powerlessness, they often get into trouble with the Kryptonian overseers, and aren’t likely to receive much help from any other humans. As a cruel joke, Rachel was allowed to keep her jewelery, and, when the Kryptonians hand out the yearly supply of clothing, they always receive the finest clothes...which are, of course, of no use at all for hard physical labor. Hartley is better-liked than his parents, but he’s deaf and mute, and, since no one had the time to teach him sign language, he struggles to communicate with anyone other than his parents. It also means that the Kryptonians use him for their own amusement, rather than having him work in the fields or in a trade; mocking the obvious inferiority of the human race that he represents. That being said, he has grown suprisingly close to Giovanni Giuseppi.

-Leonard and Lisa Snart, age 18 and 13, respectively, are unusual. Of all the humans of the Keystone/Central area, and perhaps the planet, they are the only ones who are not enslaved. When the Kryptonians arrived in the area, Leonard was 5 years old, and his sister was a newborn. His biological father, Larry Snart, was an abusive father and husband, and regularly beat both his wife and Leonard. One night, in a drunken rage, Larry accidentally killed his wife and was preparing to brutalize his son when several Kryptonians broke into the house. Larry attacked them and was promptly killed, but, fortuitously for Len and Lisa, Zor-El and Alura arrived on the scene and adopted the children as their own, in the hopes of saving them from the slavery they knew Zod and his allies had planned for humanity. To avoid raising suspicion, they claimed that they had adopted the children because of both children’s icy blue eyes, which strongly resembled the eyes of most Kryptonians. The children had the eyes of Rao; they said. They had been blessed with civility and intelligence that was unlike that of other humans; they deserved the chance to be raised as Kryptonians. The argument was broadly accepted, and so Lenonard and Lisa Snart became Len-El and Lisa (pronounced LYE-za) of the house of Jor-El. They were raised as Kryptonians, and, although Zor-El and Alura refused to own slaves and secretly helped many humans escape to freedom, they could not allow the children to spend time with members of their own species, lest it raise suspicion about their work. As a result, both Len-El and Lisa think of themselves as Kryptonian, and, since they are surrounded by Kryptonian children and taught by Kryptonian teachers at school, both of them firmly believe that humans need to be controlled by Kryptonians. Lisa thinks of other humans almost as cute pets, having never met another member of her species, but she is curious to learn more about them. Len-El despises the fact that he’s human. Thanks to his horrific experiences with his human father, Len-El believes that humans are cruel and barbaric, and he wants nothing to do with them. He wants to be Kryptonian, just like his loving parents. He and Lisa also have a little sister, Kara Zor-El, who is 7 years old. They adore Kara, and she adores them. They’re also both quite fond of their cousin, Kal-El (age 19).

#flash rogues #the flash #barry allen #iris allen #au #superman #supergirl #zor-el #alura zor el #general zod #dc comics #fanfic

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