#but eventually the suspicion wears off once she spends more time with him again

[musubiki]

ok but like lookin so handsome in his uniform 😳 mochi prob gets distracted

SHE DEFINITELY DOES!!!!!!!

and its also, for her, that mixed emotion of "I hate this because he joined the group that is classically considered one of the prominent enemies of witches and every time I see that uniform I wonder if he's still really on my side or not" vs "My god he looks so hot and handsome I want him to push me up against a wall and do things to me why does he look so GOOD"

[lindsayrps]

tali adler, 28, hotel housekeeper

ask tali adler if she ever imagined that her life would turn out the way that it has and she would, resoundingly, probably say: no.

tali was born in brooklyn in november 1915, the third of four children, all daughters. six months after the birth of tali’s younger sister, johanna, three years later and furious that there was no son to speak of, nor would there be, her father up and left the family to fend for themselves. not one to bow, tali’s mother packed the girls up and headed to philadelphia to live with her sister and brother-in-law, who were all too happy to bring them into the fold. 

with three sisters, her mother, aunt, uncle and two cousins under the same roof, life for tali was…cramped and overwhelming, in many respects, with zero chance for privacy or a room of her own. she shared a room with her sisters, the four of them stuck in bunk beds that they’d rapidly outgrow in a matter of years and having to share a single, full sized bathroom with everyone else in the house.

frustrated, tali began acting out, getting into fights with everyone in the house, mother included, and, eventually, decided that the only option was to just straight up leave–the only way she was going to have privacy and even a singular room to call her own was if she wasn’t living at home anymore. could this have been solved by talking it through? probably! but she's a teenager and not prone to making the best decisions on a whim.

leaving a letter for her mother indicating that she did not want anyone to come looking for her, tali left philadelphia and worked her way back to new york city. given that she was barely seventeen, a woman and travelling alone, a string of lies followed that allowed her to keep going on her own without garnering suspicion or concern–she was waiting for someone at train stations and they would be right back, she was meeting a family member at her destination. mostly, she was left alone but anyone who showed any profuse, consistent concern was often shrugged off and told to mind their own business.

in new york, tali rents a room in a boarding house and picks up work at a hotel in manhattan as a housekeeper. she keeps a relatively low profile for her own sake and what little she earned from her job was stuffed away in a coffee can in a locked cabinet for safe keeping. she’s rough around the edges with a sharp tongue out of necessity more than anything else.

anthony morrigan blows into her life not long after she starts working at the hotel. not much older than tali, he’s a guest at the hotel, says he’s got some business in the city and he’d be spending a significant amount of time there. she hadn’t asked nor done anything to really indicate she’d had an interest in him but he’s insistent enough in asking her out that she caves and says sure, just once but it’s all a little whirlwindy from there and, in retrospect, very lovebomby. he buys her flowers and jewelry that she never explicitly wears except in his presence and tells her he loves her and wants to marry her and it's so overwhelming that when he asks to do just that, she thinks she might love him enough to justify saying yes.

had he not insisted she follow him back across the pond as soon as possible so they could get married, tali figures she might’ve run away again if she'd been left to think about it long enough. she’d had enough money stashed away to last for a few months, if she went far enough, he’d probably never find her and that would be the end of it but they’re in london, getting married and tali’s finding out she’d pregnant and, now, permanently tethered to anthony and it’s too late.

she doesn’t super enjoy being pregnant (doesn't totally hate it, either) and spends the entire time at odds with her “husband” over how life is going to look after the baby is born. anthony insists she become a stay at home mom and tali wants the exact opposite after the baby is old enough that she feels comfortable leaving them with anthony’s parents. the stress, tali’s convinced, of having a husband who doesn’t listen to her or, she realizes, see her as anything other than a wife to look good in front of his friends and a mother for his offspring is the cause of her going into labour early and she, without a doubt, loathes him for it.

noah adler is born on tali’s 19th birthday, two months before he’s even supposed to be due. he’s tiny, so tiny that he spends a month in the hospital before doctors decide he’s healthy enough to go home with tali and anthony. having given up on her marriage and so quickly after she’d gotten married in the first place, tali does little else except care for noah and spend more time with her in-laws than she does with her husband those first few months. does this infuriate him? yeah! but sucks to be him because they like her more than they like him at this point.

in the next five years, tali goes back to work and permanently moves from the flat she shared with anthony to the house with her in-laws who are more than happy to have her there despite their son’s protestations especially as it means they get to see noah a lot more often than they would’ve otherwise. on paper, she’s still legally married but, in reality, that hasn’t been true for at least three years. she’d tried, for noah’s sake, to make amends with little success and had given up and decided it wasn’t the worst thing in the world if she was a single mother–her own mother had managed, after all, and by god she wasn’t going to give a man the satisfaction of seeing her fail.

tali’s in-laws cut ties with their son and decide, for the sake of peace for everyone involved, to move out of london and to a farm out in east anglia at the start of 1940. nine months later on october 14, anthony is killed during the blitz when a bomb craters the road above balham station where he’s sheltering and the tunnels flood. on the surface, tali supposes she’s upset about it. her in-laws lose their child, her son loses his father and she grieves, in that respect, but she honestly feels nothing but relief. in spite of this and, perhaps, because it makes life easier in some regards, she still wears her simple, gold wedding band.

two years later, the royal air force constructs an air force base not far from where they live and a year after that, the americans take it over. tali spends most of her time taking the train from the farm to the city for work, leaving noah with her in-laws but, occasionally, they take him to watch the planes take off in the mornings. the war is not something she wants to understand or expose her son to but the ground crew is nice enough to let him hang out with them and some of the other local kids when they’ve got the time and get them in on laundry duty to keep them busy other times that she almost softens to the idea of having them nearby.

while noah will always be her number one priority, after spending a significant portion of her twenties being something someone else wanted her to be, tali really wants to figure out who she is again. she likes gardening and cooking and the land they live on with the cows and chickens and the space and tending to all of that but she also wants to be impulsive and think about what she wants for herself that doesn’t revolve around noah or her job or her in-laws.

let a girl make some fun and totally harmless decisions ok.

[corvidfoxx]

an alternate ending for eddie, because the one they gave him was such shit writing that i guarantee i can write a better one:

when dustin finds eddie, he’s badly beaten up, but it’s not a death sentence — the bats dropped before they could slice him up too badly, and he was wearing enough layers to protect the most important parts. dustin remembers from the wound steve had that they’re not too bad if you can get the bleeding under control, so he starts ripping strips off of both their clothes to bandage the areas that are bleeding the most. eddie tries to protest, but he doesn’t have it in him to really fight it, being as beat up as he is. he asks dustin, “i didn’t run away that time, right?” and dustin tells him he’s right, he didn’t run away, he fought, and now he has to keep fighting because the others still need him. eventually, he gives in and they make their way back through to the other side, dustin inevitably making a pointed comment that it sure would be easier to get across if someone hadn’t cut their rope.

when they first get back, eddie hides out in hopper’s cabin with el. if it’s secure enough to keep el hidden from the government agents out to get her, it’s sure as hell secure enough to keep him safe from some small town police and angry parents. hopper likes the arrangement because it means el isn’t just alone in the house when he has to leave, and eddie pretty quickly takes on an older brother role with her, spending their free time alone in the cabin showing her all sorts of music and teaching her how to play d&d (she likes to mess with him by using her powers to make all her rolls 20s and all of his 1s).

soon enough, hopper goes back to the police and is able to start smoothing things over for eddie. hopper was the police chief, the whole town sees him as a hero now so they want to believe what he says, and the other officers are just grateful for an authoritative voice to put an end to the hysteria so they don’t particularly want to question him. whatever hopper can’t smooth over with the law, owens’ people (who easily made the charges against el disappear) take care of.

ultimately, they end up pinning the murders on jason, which is surprisingly easy — they say chrissy’s death was a classic abusive boyfriend situation, that she had gone to eddie because she was afraid jason was going to do something to her and that eddie went into hiding after she died because he was afraid that jason was going to come after him next; they say fred was next because he found something incriminating while at the scene of the crime, and patrick after that because he was trying to stop jason from swimming after eddie. lucas vouches for him, since max was clearly a victim of the same killer and he was there when she was attacked — he says that jason was attacking her because she was helping eddie but was killed by the earthquake before he could finish the job, that eddie wasn’t even there when max was attacked so he must be innocent. lucas is a good witness; the town loved him for being the hero of the basketball game, so they want to believe him. dustin vouches for him too, saying he hurt his leg in the earthquake and eddie carried him to safety — that if anything, eddie is a hero, not a killer. they explain jason’s crusade against eddie as an attempt to throw suspicion off of himself and onto eddie because he was angry that eddie got away.

ultimately, the people of hawkins still don’t like eddie — he’s weird and they’ve never liked his family and old habits die hard — but now they have a satisfying answer to the question of who the murderer really was and the earthquake provided enough of a distraction from the murders that without jason there to fuel the fire, no one particularly cares about eddie or his club that was supposedly a cult anymore.

once his name is cleared, he’s able to see his uncle again and start hanging out with the rest of the gang more. he helps out at the earthquake shelter with everyone else as a show of good faith to the community, and a lot of them still side-eye him but with others it seems to help. he and will hit it off instantly when they meet, bonding over their love for d&d but quickly realizing they have more than just that in common (will thinks he’s good at hiding, but eddie instantly recognizes the way he looks at mike). there isn’t much time to relax before things inevitably start getting weird again, but it’s enough for him to realize that this life is much better than dying as a hero would’ve been, and that despite all the things people have said about him his entire life, these people believed in him enough to go through all that trouble just to make sure he would have a life to go back to in hawkins.

so there you have it folks — one of literally so many possible endings for eddie that would’ve been better than the bullshit shock value death they gave him

[justsomerandomfanfic]

My Mind's Like A Deadly Disease - Jonathan Crane (Gotham) X Female (Gordan) Reader

Title: My Mind's Like A Deadly Disease

Jonathan Crane (Gotham) X Female (Gordan) Reader

Additional Characters: Jim Gordan, Lee (Mentioned), random inmates (Mentioned), Harvey (Mentioned), and Jerome Valeska

Requested

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5

WC: 844

Warnings: Guns, threatening, police brutality, yelling, sneaking out, typical teenager things, asylums, and very overprotective dads

Jim was starting to suspect something was going on with his daughter, Y/N. She would miss her homework assignments, or turn them in late, and sneak out through her bedroom window after curfew. Lee tried to tell him to calm down, but he wouldn't listen. Y/N was a teenager, and teenagers do rebellious things, but after a guard told Jim that he spotted her leaving Arkham Asylum late one night, he knew there was something wrong.

Ever since he brought Y/N to the hospital to see that Jonathan kid, he could see the secret attraction his daughter and the boy both shared. He didn't like it at all. He was dangerous and was now at Arkham Asylum, a place for crazy people. And he wasn't so happy that his daughter was risking her life to go see him.

Worried for his daughter, Jim decided to tail her one of the nights she had sneaked out, and his suspicions were confirmed when he saw her use a small hidden key to gain access to the asylum.

Harvey tried to calm him down, but Jim was past that. When walking into the asylum, he stormed in with a shout. At first, the inmates played dumb, refusing to admit that they knew where anyone matching Y/N's description was, but eventually, one of the inmates broke and told the officer that she went into the cell block to go see someone.

Why would the asylum even let a teen, no a child go into an asylum at night!? To see an inmate no less!? Jim was not happy with that information. Walking through the cell block when he heard an all too familiar laugh coming from one of the cells. Looking to his left, he saw the ginger hair and grinning smile of the one and only, Jerome Valeska, who was leaning against the metal bars and laughing at Jim.

"What do you want, Jerome?" Jim asked, his patience wearing thin.

The man stopped laughing and looked at the man curiously for a second.

"I'm looking for my daughter Jerome, where is she?" He finally demanded, and Jerome giggled for a second before suddenly stopping, looking off into space.

"Ah, little Y/N. She's a real doll. Most people here love her because she is so polite. No more than our little Jonny though."

He finished, but Jim wasted no time grabbing Jerome by the collar of his striped uniform and yanking him into the bars.

"Listen to me, Jerome. You tell me which cell my daughter is in."

Jim said through gritted teeth, and Jerome once again began to laugh hysterically, pointing once again to a cell a few doors down the hall.

Meanwhile, in Jonathan's cell, he was spending some quality time with Y/N, who had come and visit him as she said she would. Y/N was sitting next to him on the bed with a photo album between them, flicking through the photos that she took of them with her polaroid from the previous visits.

Jonathan looked up at Y/N, who was smiling at the photos and when she met his gaze, he timidly met her lips with a soft kiss. Although the peace was shattered by the sound of a gun being cocked and a shout blasting through the hall.

"Get away from my daughter!" They quickly pulled apart and looked at Jim with eyes of surprise and fear.

"Dad!?"

Y/N couldn't believe it.

"Y/N, we are leaving. Now!" Jim said, his gun trained on Jonathan.

"Dad! Put the gun down!" Y/N demanded, eyes wide in fear.

He ignored her, glaring at Jonathan, who sat scared on the bed, staring at the gun.

Y/N glared and growled, getting up and stepping in front of Jonathan. The gun now trained on her. Jim lowered the gun, glaring at his daughter.

"We are leaving." He quickly growled, his voice deep.

He put away his gun and grabbed Y/N's arm, bringing her towards the cell door. A few photos from the album flew from the pages, hitting the floor. Y/N held the book tighter and looked up to her father, and glared.

Bringing Y/N out of the cell room, Jim slammed the iron-barred door shut, continuously glaring at Jonathan.

"Dad, please." She begged with tears in her eyes.

"No, Y/N. He has a sick mind, and spending time with him would only taint yours too." Jim said, turning to his daughter.

"Now, we are leaving." He spoke, grabbing her arm, trying to pull her away and to the exit.

Y/N resisted and turned to Jonathan, a few tears cascading down her face.

"When you get out, find me. I love you." She mouthed, before letting her father pull her away.

Back at Jonathan's cell, he slowly got onto the floor and picked up the few photos, and neatly stacked them in his hands. Getting back on the bed, he raked a hand through his hair, looking at them one by one.

[gyusbambi]

humph; han seojun (pt 3)

click here for humph masterlist!

part 1, part 2, part 4

story: frenemies to enemies to lovers, high school au

synopsis: seojun and you have known each other since kindergarten. you’re neighbors and even attended the same singing and piano classes. despite knowing each other for such a long time, you don’t enjoy spending time with seojun. even though you are aware of his unfairness, you keep spending time with him. when will you finally leave your childhood frenemy?

note: humph! is a story inspired by pentagon’s “humph! / 접근금지”. originally, this is a seungyeon fanfiction, which i posted on my wattpad. words: 4.3k

after what seems like forever, the bus finally arrives at the location. the rest of the bus ride went alright, except that suho kept turning around in his seat, checking if you’re doing well. because of that you simply decided to text him that everything was fine: seojun wasn’t even talking to you. on the contrary, he acted quieter than usual, looking out of the window the whole time. 

speaking of: how lucky seojun felt that you didn’t seem to notice the truth behind his behavior. after all he’s a person incredibly difficult to read. one moment he’s mean only to remain silent in the other. even his friend with keen sense of perception, chorong, struggles to detect the real meaning of the boy’s actions. however, he’s definitely not about to give up, after all he spent the whole night planing the ultimate reconciliation. 

han seojun himself, has no clue how to act. yet, one matter is clear: he wants to make up with you. the whole time he suppressed that he misses being near you, constantly trying to fight back the thought of wanting you. well aware that it’s easier said than done, he thinks of a way to overcome his stubbornness. in the first step, he needs to distance himself a little, though the concept of that seems more difficult than it sounds.

after everyone gets settled into their hotel rooms, it’s game time. outdoors you stand next to your roommates sua and soojin, as your teacher explains the simple rules for the tug of war game. your teacher’s suggestion of separating the teams classwise gets absolutely rejected by chorong, who claims that the game wouldn’t be exciting that way. therefore, your teacher hands the rope to chorong himself, stating that he should choose his opponent and divide into two groups.

at the sight of your friend grinning from ear to ear, you narrow your eyes in suspicion. is it that big of a deal from him?

but you’re even more surprised when he chooses his closest friend han seojun as his opponent to which the latter doesn’t react well. 

“woah, you betrayer.” seojun tilts his head with a frown on his face before brushing his hair away from his forehead,

“game on.”

“okay, i’m the first one to choose and i choose y/n!” enthusiastically chorong pulls you to his side a little too fast, causing you to bump shoulders with him.

something seems off today.

two equal groups finally get created, a line separating them from each other. kim chorong and han seojun face each other, positioning themselves in the very front. purposely, you stand near the back, gripping the rope tightly with your hands since you don’t feel that strong. 

right when the game is about to start, chorong suddenly groans in pain while holding his stomach,

“i don’t feel so good. someone else should take my position.”

“oh, well then suho should-”, you raise your hand to suggest who should replace chorong but you get interrupted by chorong immediately,

“y/n, thank you so much for volunteering. my strongest player!”

everyone watches you with confused eyes, probably thinking the same thing that’s running through your head. strongest player?

overwhelmed, your helpless eyes search for suho’s and it doesn’t take him long to react,

“if you’re not comfortable i could-”

“y/n, come on! what’s taking you so long?” sua gently grabs your shoulders from behind to push you to the front while laughing nervously. 

as stupid as it sounds, once again you’re not able to hear her whispering something certain to your group members, while you are too busy observing the boy on the other side of the drawn line. 

the whole team is lead to confusion when your friend tells them to let the rope go on the count of three. 

on the sign of your teacher, the two groups start pulling the rope to their direction, trying to get the other members to their side. certainly, it’s difficult and requires a lot of strength. while tugging the rope with force, you look up to see han seojun doing the same thing, completely focused on the game.

“three.”

his veins are visible on his arms.

“two.”

his hair slightly covers a part of his forehead.

“one!”

all of the sudden everyone in your team, except for you, lets go off the rope, causing you to lose balance and stumble forwards.

some of the opponents fall down while the others are able to find balance in the last second.

letting out a small yelp, you find yourself falling into han seojun’s arms. however, when you grab onto his shoulders to prevent yourself from falling, he quickly reacher for your waist. before he knows it, both of you fall on the ground. 

han seojun lays beneath you. 

eyes tightly closed, your head hits his chest. with embarrassment you look up, to find him doing the same. the boy looks more than just shocked. his grip is still steady on your waist, hair messy, gaze on you. 

are you starting to find him attractive?! (a/n: good morning, y/n)

and as you eventually notice the rosiness on his almost pale face, you cough more than just once.

“you just fell for me.”

it seems like it’s the last straw for you, when these words leave han seojun’s mouth with teasing tone.

now your stupid heart rate is speeding up again and you are sure that it’s able to explode any moment. not to mention, the boy beneath you can possibly hear it due to the extreme closeness. 

therefore, you’re happy to come to your senses and stand up swiftly. after seconds han seojun does the same, watching you brush the dirt off your jeans. 

he smiles at the sight of you and for once decides to ignore kim chorong grining like a cheshire's cat.

mission complete.

_

in the next game you have to build groups with four members and stand on a piece of newspaper. the group loses the moment one of their members step out of the paper. 

lee suho instantly tugs at your sweater, asking if you want to be in a group with him. a smile forms on your lips and you nod to his request with joy. sooner than think, soojin approaches the both of you, questioning if she could join you. chuckling you playfully hit her shoulder to show that obviously she could,

“of course! now we only need one more person. how about sua?”

“i think sua wants to stick to her boyfriend.” soojin giggles while observing the couple clutching to each other.

as all three of you look around for a last person to join you, kim chorong pushes han seojun to your direction forcefully, causing his back to hit your own. with a look of puzzlement you turn around.

“sorry, seojun! we’re already four people. you gotta join their group.”,

kim chorong whines in a false upset tone before focusing back to his own group. once again, you fail to notice the grin on his face.

before it can get awkward between the four of you, you indicate them to step on the piece of paper. you wish you could overlook suho and seojun exchanging annoyed looks. it seems like both of them could start a fight any moment. thankfully soojin steps forward, standing between you and suho. 

soon the host starts the game. everyone holds each other closely, your own arm around seojun’s back. you don’t fail to notice a smile appearing on soojin’s face when suho wraps an arm around her, holding her tightly. amused, you try to hold in your laughter but soon freeze on spot when seojun swiftly pulls you closer to his body before you can lose your balance and fall backwards. your own grip on his jacket tightens. both of you look at each other at the same time, taken aback by the sudden closeness. seojun coughs, a faint tint appearing on his ears, and looks away a little too quickly. meanwhile suho looks like he’s about to explode.

in the next round you intentionally squeeze yourself between the two boys, so that they don’t have the chance to throw fists at each other. 

“why does suho ruin my plan!”

further away from you, chorong complains to sua and taehoon. the latter sighs with disappointment while shaking his head,

“i don’t know.”

“it’s almost like he likes y/n.” chorong scoffs sarcastially, eyes focused on lee suho.

but soon shock hits all three of them. chorong and taehoon avert their gazes from suho to look into each other’s eyes in horror,

“oh, no.”

_

the last day at the countryside is colder than usual and remains extremely silent, only sounds of crickets can be heard. that being so you choose to stay in the hotel room, watching tv dressed in jeans and a cozy hoodie. fully prepared for bed, you even removed your contact lenses and wear you specs, hair up in a messy ponytail.

however, the unexpected sight of your two roommates dressed up in their winter coats and combat boots causes you to sit up with surprise written in your face. both sua and soojin do the same when they spot you sitting on the couch lazily. after a short silence with the sound of the tv playing in the background, you finally break the awkward quietness,

“are you two going somewhere?”

“why are you still in those?”

instead of answering your question, sua looks you up and down with a confused expression. reacting to her statement, you push your glasses up your nose, eyes unable to meet hers,

“i thought we were staying in.”

“of course not! we should have fun on our last night.”, soojin chuckles while sitting down next to you, taking your hand in hers.

after nodding understandingly, you return soojin’s smile,

“that’s right. have fun, guys! i think i should stay in.”

before your friend sitting next to has the chance to reply to your decision, sua throws your jacket on your face softly,

“no way! you’re coming with us, y/n.”

removing the piece of clothing from your face, you’re met with sua staring at you with troubled eyes. resigned, you sigh before putting on your jacket which causes both of your friends to cheer. yet, this time you notice sua’s body losing its stiff posture while letting out a huge breath.

_

meanwhile han seojun walks outside with his hands in his pockets, feeling the cold air on his face. a shiver goes down his spine as he passes several students, who seem to enjoy the last night outside at this terrible weather. in fact, the young boy would rather stay in his hotel room if it wasn’t for his stubborn friends, who basically force him to attend the talent show. although, he thinks their several excuses are nothing but ridiculous (”it’s the last night”, “you should sing”, “sneak around in the woods” etc.) he still leaves his room at the mention of you. kim chorong never misses the chance of bringing you up in tangled situations, well aware of seojun’s reaction.

the moment they arrive at the talent show, which takes place near the forest, han seojun instantly spots you a few steps away from his friend group. completely uninterested you stand next to your friends, impatiently tugging at sua’s coat. at this sight of you, dull eyes visible under your specs, a few loose strands of hair falling down from your ponytail, he can’t help but smile at your disinterest. a few seconds ago he was feeling the same way but this changed thanks to your appearance.

minutes pass as everyone waits for the host to appear on the stage. students already found their seats on the floor, absorbed in their own conversations. somehow, chorong finds a way to sit close to you with the help of sua. the boy sits between you and han seojun with relief. moreover, he focuses on being as far away from lee suho as possible. fulfilling his plan, soojin luckily approached suho first, causing the cupid team to achieve their goal.

finally the host makes an appearance on the stage and lists the number of performances before the first group comes into view. seven girls from your grade, dressed in the same shirts and skirts, start dancing to a girl group song. at the sound of nonstop by oh my girl your disinterest disappears suddenly, replaced with excitement instead. to be honest, you really enjoyed this song, although it isn’t really your type.

while the girls are performing, chorong nudges seojun’s side with his elbow next to him, who seems rather bored.

“did you know this song is about someone who crushes on their best friend but is unable to confess?”

chorong’s sudden statement catches seojun’s attention and he turns his head to his friend next to him with a confused face,

“so what?”

“ah, i’m just saying.”, his friend shrugs with a playful pout before focusing back on the performing group.

what’s wrong with him?

before seojun can further question chorong’s odd behavior, his eyes unintentionally land on yours.

“saljjak seollesso nan!” (my heart fluttered a little)

viewing you bopping your head to the song happily causes seojun’s expressions to soften and without knowing his eyes linger on you with admiration.

_

the talent show ends after the last performance. unfortunately the air is even colder now causing many students to rush back to the hotel with almost freezing bodies. unquestionably, you start walking the same way as them, expecting your friends to follow you only to get pulled back.

sua loosens her grip on your jacket when you turn around to face her,

“how about we sneak around the forest, huh? what do you say?”

“forest?”

“apparently it’s haunted. isn’t that crazy?”,

she noticeably grins at you with excitement.

“yeah, that’s crazy.”, uneasily you mumble since you have bad memories with forests.

“come on, y/n! you love adventure.”

eventually you give in and follow sua and taehoon into the woods, still concerned about your decision.

seojun doesn’t seem surprised when his friends appear in front of him as he’s about to return to the hotel.

“let’s go ghost haunting!”

“ghost haunting?” he repeats chorong’s words with a questioning voice,

“forget it. i’m going to sleep.”

“why? are you scared?”

at the teasing tone seojun rapidly reacts,

“scared? me? what do you take me for!”

without having to try harder, the friend group follows seojun into the forest.

_

by some way the woods correspond exactly to your memories from your middle school time. you observe dark tree trunks around you as the moon shines through a lattice of leaves. with every step the undergrowth cracks and you hear the sound of wind slipping through the leaves. breathing in the cold air, you smell the scent of rich earth.

it’s almost like you’re experiencing that certain traumatic moment once again but luckily you aren’t alone.

to the sound of a flutter of wings, sua nervously clutches on taehoon’s coat while holding your wrist in the other hand. abruptly, her boyfriend stops in his track with wide eyes, causing both of you two stumble forward.

“w-what?”

“did you guys see that?” taehoon speaks without averting his gaze from the trees standing a little further away.

sua gulps, “see what? is there something?”

her voice has gotten quieter and more nervous as she follows her boyfriend’s gaze,

“this was supposed to be a mission and now we’re going to die.”

“what mission are you talking about?”

hearing your question, taehoon rapidly turns around to face you.

“nothing.”, he nudges sua with warning eyes before stepping forward,

“it’s probably nothing. do you guys really believe in ghosts?”

although he sounds quite confident, his steps are still cautious and the nervousness on his face is impossible to overlook. with each step, all of you feel your hearts pounding against your chests.

“kim chorong, where the hell are you?” sua mumbles under her breath impatiently, yet so quietly that you can’t understand a single word.

your skin shivers from the cold air and you feel your muscles tightening. trying not to shake, you grip on your friends clothing, waiting for taehoon to check what’s behind that mysterious tree.

and for one second all three of you stand still in complete silence when suddenly a tall dark creature stands not so far away from you. all of you scream in fear at the same time and before you know it you all sprint off to the opposite direction.

your legs move in extreme speed as your heart races in your rib cage. sua and taehoon are in front of you, running even faster with every second passing. frightened, your friend checks behind her and sighs in relief when she sees that you’re still with them.

from there, you run without thinking about stopping. after what seems like minutes your legs give in after you suddenly trip over a bumpy root. a small gasp escapes your mouth the moment you fall down on the slippery earth, wet and dewy leaves sticking on your palms.

without wanting to waste any time, you swiftly look up in hope to see your friends but unfortunately you’re only met with clumps of bushes, tall trees and barely visible black trails snaking through the undergrowth.

standing up, you brush the dirt off your hands and knees. hopelessly, you look around one more time to find someone but unluckily, you’re all alone in the haunted woods. the fact that it’s utterly dark makes everything worse and you try your best to suppress some terrifying memories.

although you’re shocked and frightened, you try your best to remain calm. it’s only a matter of time until you eventually find a way out of this stupid forest and return to your hotel. what could possibly happen to you? the woods are probably safe anyway, considering that the whole story about the ghosts is only a legend.

taking a deep breath, you look up to see stars in glimpses through tree breaks. it isn’t completely dark. seojun would always tell you to look at the moon and the stars when you’re afraid of the dark.

it seems like the track is endless as you walk further into the woods, fog covering your sight slightly. with your arms wrapped around yourself to keep your body warm you continue following the path. the further you go, the more you start to worry about where to go. there is nowhere to go. indeed, you are lost in the middle of the dark woods with nothing but yourself.

a look of concern crosses your face when your knees feel weak, causing you to stop in your tracks. carefully, you approach a random tree next to you and sit down completely exhausted. slowly, you were struggling to breathe normally. nothing but your heavy breathing and the sound of branches moving in the wind could be heard.

fidgeting with your fingers, red from the intense coldness, you try to come up with a way. yet, your head is only filled with memories from the time you were lost in the forest.

you remember every single detail from that night. how you left seojun stubbornly, your body shivering from the cold, dark shadows surrounding you, leaves crunching under your feet and tears streaming down your eyes.

these horrible memories cause you to feel uneasier than you already are and you feel your eyes tearing up.

you’re scared. nothing but fear takes over your shaking body. in this huge forest you are lost and completely alone. wrapping your arms around your knees, you cry quietly, heart beating faster than it should. time passes and you lose track of time while tears run down your cheeks.

out of the blue, a voice echoes through the forest with a worried tone to it. from all the panic and fear, you don’t bother looking up. soon the familiar sounds are easier to hear, pointing out that the person is near to you.

“yah, kim chorong! where are you guys?”

han seojun?

“if you guys don’t come out now i’m leaving without-”

when you’re sure that it’s han seojun’s voice, you look up to find him standing only a few inches away from where you’re sitting.

“y/n?”

han seojun’s shocked eyes find yours in a matter of seconds. the young boy stands there in his leather jacket with worry written all over his face. it hurts him so much to see you in this state and all he wants to do is to hug you.

it doesn’t take him long to squat down in front of you. carefully, he caresses your almost freezing face with his warm hands after brushing your hair out of your face. sadness crosses over his face when he wipes the tears off your cheeks. seojun’s heart aches when you look into his eyes with a mix of fear and relief, teary from crying the whole time.

“are you hurt? what happened to you?”,

he asks with a low tone, eyes never leaving yours.

at this, you squinch your eyes shut, only crying harder than you were,

“i got lost here. all alone.”

usually, you would feel embarrassed to cry or say something like that, especially in front of han seojun. but right now, you don’t care at all. on the contrary, you feel so happy that seojun found you, once again.

eyebrows drawing together, he lifts your chin up to take a better look at you,

“look at me.”

attempting to stop yourself from crying, you look into his eyes.

“it’s over now, y/n.”

“seojun-ah-” you trail off when you notice your voice shaking slightly, still taken aback by the whole situation.

“you’re not alone anymore. i’m with you.”, seojun wipes the last tears away from your face before pulling you in for a tight hug, strong arms wrapping around your figure. you feel relieved when he rubs your back comfortingly.

taking in a breath, you wrap your arms around his body, hugging him even tighter. face resting on his chest, you’re eventually able to calm down as he hums caring words into your hair with soothing voice.

_

fortunately, both of you find a way out of the woods. the whole time seojun held your hand tightly in his to make you feel safe. silence took over both of you, no single word leaving your mouths. now and then his thumb rubbed the back of your hand which helped you calm down.

but it definitely didn’t help your poor heart. instead of slowing down, it only beat faster.

isn’t it strange how seojun is the one who found you again, when you were lost in the woods? what’s even stranger is the fact that you feel differently near him. needless to say, you enjoy finding yourself in his arms. you also liked falling asleep on him in the bus ride.

it couldn’t be...

eventually you arrive at the hotel. eyes darting around your surroundings, you cough shyly,

“we should uh, we should go in now. again, thank you, seojunnie.”

seojunnie?

instantly your eyes widen in horror at the fact that you decided to call him by the nickname you gave him when you were younger. embarrassed, you’re unable to make eye contact and rub your neck before letting go off his hand after mumbling a good night under your breath.

however, before you have the chance to leave, seojun reaches for your wrist and pulls you back lightly. the boy tries to hide his pleasant smile and stares at you. surprised, you wait for him to speak.

“it may be a little too late. it also be not the right time or place to say this. but i just have to tell you that i’m sorry.”

sorry?

seojun notices the frown on your face and continues after taking a deep breath,

“i’m sorry for everything. i’m sorry for treating you nothing like a friend, i’m sorry for annoying you all the time, i’m sorry that i stole your audition and i’m so sorry for telling suho to stay away from you.”

the boy talks nervously, a look of guilt appearing on his face.

“it’s my fault that our friendship ended like that and i should have never done those things. i-i don’t know why i went that far and didn’t question your feelings but... but i just want you to know that i sincerely feel sorry. i’m sorry, y/n.”

utterly absorbed in his speech, you don’t notice him taking a bracelet made out of flowers until he wraps it around your wrist carefully. the feeling of his fingers brushing over your wrist causes butterflies to appear in your stomach.

“i hope you forgive me.”

after putting the bracelet on your wrist, seojun watches you staring at it with a look of surprise. the poor boy feels nothing but nervous standing in front of you, waiting for your reaction. after all, he’s content that he’s finally able to apologize, which took him long enough.

“i do. it’s okay, seojun.”

when you smile at him with happiness written in your eyes, he can’t believe his ears. how can you forgive him so easily? the young boy stands there silently in shock.

“seojun-ah?”

“you forgive me? really?”

hearing his excited tone, you nod while playing with the bracelet, eyes not leaving his,

“i’m happy we’re friends again, seojun.”

abruptly, he pulls you in for another hug, spinning you around,

“i missed you.” he mutters under his breath while you chuckle with amusement,

“i missed you too! but i think i’m gonna fall.”

after putting you down, seojun grins at you with loving eyes, happier than ever.

will he be able to overcome his feelings this time? needless to say, he likes you more than just a friend. but for now, he just wants to be near you again.

“race you to the rooms, zombie.”,

after pinching your cheeks, seojun sprints away. soon you follow him, laughing at the nickname,

“hey! you didn’t count!”

_

to be continued...

[queenshelby]

The Singer – Part Three

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 7,970

Warning: Smut, Some Swearing, Age Gap

--------

***Raising Suspicions***

Kurt was quick to tell Amanda about his suspicions. He was sure that Cillian and you were involved after he’s seen Cillian’s watch at your apartment, lying on his study desk along with an empty condom wrapper.

He wasn’t surprised, knowing very well that you preferred older partners and that he was the exception all along. But Amanda didn’t buy into his suspicions.

‘Common Kurt, you are being ridiculous. Cillian wouldn’t be interested in Y/N’ Amanda said, but Kurt simply raised an eyebrow at Amanda’s comment.

According to Amanda, you weren’t Cillian’s type. You were too young and too outspoken. In addition, she explained to Kurt that Cillian wouldn’t like your tattoos, piercings and your involvement on social media. You were completely different to Amanda, not just physically but also mentally. You were an extrovert whereas Amanda was an introvert. She was mostly quiet and reserved whereas you were loud and direct.

Despite Amanda’s comments, Kurt didn’t back down and eventually confronted Cillian when they were on their own.

‘Are you fucking my girlfriend?’ Kurt asked Cillian out of the blue.

‘Excuse me?’ Cillian responded somewhat flustered by Kurt’s question.

‘It’s a simple question Cillian. Are you fucking my girlfriend? Yes or no?’ Kurt asked again angrily, starring at Cillian’s watch again.

‘Did someone spike your coffee this morning or something?’ Cillian asked somewhat annoyed, making Kurt sound absurd.

‘Alright, don’t fucking answer my question then but, just so you know, since you are always trying so hard to stay out of the tabloids, it would look really fucking bad if you left Amanda for a woman half your age’ Kurt went on to say, catching Cillian by surprise.

‘You have issues man’ Cillian said angrily before walking away from the conversation, getting on with the things he had to do for the arts and music festival.  

Despite Cillian’s immediate reaction to Kurt’s question, Kurt’s comments didn’t leave Cillian’s mind for the remainder of the day.

Of course, it would be bad if he was involved with someone half his age, especially shortly after separating from Amanda which was something that wasn’t even public knowledge yet and it was exactly this what made Cillian think about whether he should continue seeing you.

With these thoughts on his mind, he became rather distant over the next few days, not returning your calls and messages, only engaging into conversations with you when he absolutely had to.

You were frustrated by his behaviour and the least you were expecting from him was that he would talk with you about what happened between you. If he believed it was a mistake that you slept with each other, then you wanted to know.

Eventually, a week had passed and nothing had changed.

***New Woman***

After having been upset and frustrated with Cillian and Kurt, you’ve given up on men all together and, on a Thursday evening, your closest friend Emily and her fiancée Judy took you out to a LGBT friendly bar in Dublin.

It was cocktail night and Judy introduced you to a friend of hers named Kirsten. Kirsten was a local Dublin artist and photographer and you got on with her quite well immediately.

You spent the entire evening talking and dancing and you eventually had a few too many drinks and left the bar together with Kirsten.

Sharing a taxi together, you got quite comfortable on the backseats and things eventually got heated between you and Kirsten when Kirsten leaned in and kissed you passionately while running one of her hands between your thighs.

Her lips were soft and smelled like strawberries from the lip gloss she was wearing and you couldn’t resist but give into the kiss on the backseat of the taxi.

‘Did you want to come to my place?’ Kirsten asked when your lips drifted apart.

‘I probably shouldn’t…I have been making a few mistakes lately’ you whispered, knowing that Kirsten was, in fact, in a relationship with someone else.

‘It could stay our little secret you know’ Kirsten smirked but, despite the large amount of alcohol you had to drink, you shook your head.

‘Listen, you are gorgeous but I don’t do one-night stands, I am sorry. Perhaps we will meet again under different circumstances’ you said with a tender smile before allowing Kirsten to kiss you once more just before the taxi driver pulled up in front of her apartment.

After a short final kiss, Kirsten got out of the taxi and walked into her apartment while you remained sitting, asking the taxi driver to take you home.

When you got home, you quickly undressed and let yourself fall onto your soft and large vintage style bed which is where you remained fast asleep until 8 o’clock the following morning.

At 8 o’clock, your phone beeped and it was text message from your sister with a link to one of the bar’s patron’s Twitter Accounts…

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

“New Relationship for Y/N L/N with sexy Dublin artist Kirsten Lang??? It looks like Kurt Spencer is finally out of the picture”

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

This was a nightmare, you thought. The last thing you needed was false information being out there about you while you were still dealing with your break up from Kurt and all you could think about was Cillian.

But, there was nothing you could do about it and, after digesting the news, you had a shower and got ready for another day of organising this arts and music festival.

When you arrived at the usual meeting spot, everyone had already seen the Twitter post and Kurt immediately gave you a serving about it, asking you why he wasn’t invited for a threesome with your lesbian friend.

‘Fuck off’ was all you managed to respond with. Still hungover and angry about the Twitter post, the last thing you needed was Kurt making a comment like this.

With your coffee in your hand, you eventually sat down next to Cillian who looked at you with a half grin on his face. His eyes were full of questions but he didn’t say anything at all.

‘What?’ you asked, annoyed by the way he looked at you.

‘Are you alright?’ Cillian asked concerned.

‘No, I am not fucking alright, ok? I am sick of this shit’ you said with frustration as you scrolled through the Twitter comments.

‘You need to be more careful about who you hook up with in public. Trust me, I speak from experience’ Cillian chuckled, referring to that one night a few years ago where he was caught by cameras having a night out with one of his female co-stars. The incident caused his first major fight and break up with Amanda until it became public that Cillian and his female co-star were, in fact, accompanied by his co-star’s boyfriend and several other members of the film crew.

‘Well thanks for the advice’ you said angrily, still unsure why he cared.

‘Was it worth it at least?’ Cillian asked carefully, trying to figure out whether anything happened between you and Kirsten  

‘Nothing happened. We just kissed. So no, it wasn’t fucking worth it’ you said. You couldn’t help but chuckle yourself knowing how idiotic this all was.

‘You’ve got two choices here. Either, you set the record straight or you let it go Y/N’ Cillian said calmly, feeling genuinely sorry for you.

‘What would you do in my situation?’ you asked.

‘I’ve learned not to give a shit about gossip like this over the years. Personally, I would let it slide. But I can see that it bothers you, so get your manager to make a statement on your behalf or, like you young people do, make a statement yourself on this platform with the bird on it which I think is where the rumours are coming from, right?’ Cillian recommended with a warm smile.

‘What Twitter?’ you laughed.

‘Yeah. Or you can use whatever social media platform you young artists use these days’ Cillian suggested.

‘Good idea old man. I will make a tweet’ you laughed. ‘But tell me, if you don’t use Twitter, how did you know about it in the first place?’ you went on and asked.

‘Kurt has a big mouth’ Cillian chuckled.

‘Of course’ you sighed.

After the initial Twitter drama, your day working with Cillian went exceptionally well and you felt much better after setting the record straight on Twitter, having your followers and fans interact on your post and offering their support.

You finished up after about five hours, ready to head back home in order to have a lazy evening.

‘Do you want a lift back home?’ Cillian asked after you indicated that you would be leaving and were ready to catch up on some sleep. You had told Cillian earlier that your car was still with the mechanics and he could see the tiredness on your face.

‘No thanks, I will walk’ you said despite the fact that you were tired and walking was the last thing on your mind. You were trying to spend as little time as possible with Cillian.

Cillian nodded and, just like this, you were out of the door.

‘You know, if you like her, perhaps just tell her’ Janine, the administration assistant, said to Cillian after having observed his interactions with you for the past few weeks.

‘Excuse me?’ Cillian asked surprised and with a slight chuckle.

‘It’s obvious that you like her. Just as it is obvious that you touched the damn printer again last week even after I told you not to’ she then went on to say.

‘I am sorry about the printer’ Cillian chuckled.

‘Sure you are’ she laughed before walking off.

***Change of Mind***

Unfortunately for you, the following day, which was also going to be the last day of working with Cillian and some others on the festival preparations, was going to be even worse than the last.

You barely made it to the office on time again, not having had much sleep again. You were on to your third cup of coffee and had been taking pain killers all night.

‘Fuck Y/N, you look awful. Are you alright?’ Cillian said as you sat down next to him and, over at the copier station, he could see Janine shake her head in disbelieve. He just told the woman he liked that she looks awful. He was a hopeless case she thought.

‘Oh, thanks Cillian. That makes me feel better’ you chuckled as you took a sip from your large cup of coffee and popped yet another two tablets of paracetamol.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it this way. You just look unwell’ Cillian said shyly, looking over to Janine for guidance. She nodded in approval.

‘I am fine. It’s just the time of the month’ you responded quietly and with some embarrassment.

‘What do you mean?’ Cillian asked with some confusion.

‘She means that she’s got her period Cillian’ Janine chuckled from behind before walking off.

‘Right. Of course’ Cillian said, his cheeks starting to flush. ‘Why didn’t you just stay at home if you are unwell?’ he went on to ask.

‘Because my apartment won’t have any electricity until 8pm. They are finally fixing the central heating system’ you explained.

‘Bad timing’ he responded.

‘I know. I will go to my sister’s later for dinner. Although I don’t really feel like it. She’s got two young kids who are quite a hand full and all I want to really do is chill and watch Netflix’ you whined.

‘Well, if you want to, you can come over to my place. No kids there and we could get some food, watch a movie and then I will drive you home once the electricians have left’ Cillian suggested.  

‘Do you actually mean that or is this a “come up for tap water” type of situation?’ you asked causing Cillian to laugh.

‘You just said you have your period so it’s defiantly not a “come to my house for some tap water” type situation’ Cillian chuckled.

‘Believe it or not, some guys are into that. It’s just that I am not’ you giggled, causing Cillian to raise his eyebrows.

‘I can assure you that I am not one of those guys. Just a movie and some food, alright?’ Cillian laughed and you nodded, knowing that this would be a mistake but you much preferred a quiet evening with Cillian than a loud evening with your nephews while you were battling your period pains.

Just as promised, after a long day, Cillian took you home with him after you cancelled on your sister.

He dropped you at his house first, showing you how the TV works, before leaving you there on your own for half an hour so that he could organise some food for you as his fridge was usually empty now that Amanda had finally moved out.

While he was gone, you looked around the living area and you noticed that all pictures of Amanda and Cillian had gone. He clearly had moved on.

Eventually, you lied down on the lounge, watching TV and it wasn’t long until Cillian returned with two large shopping bags and it looked to you like he was going to cook for you.

‘When you said food, I expected pizza or chinese take away’ you said surprised before telling him that no man had ever cooked you dinner before and you were delighted by his efforts.

‘Nah, I enjoy cooking’ Cillian said with a warm smile as he continued to unpack the grocery bags.

Amongst ingredients for risotto, he also bought a caramel fudge ice cream, a bottle of wine, a hot water bottle and very warm ruby red socks.

‘Please explain’ you giggled as you held up the socks.

‘The last time we watched a movie together, in your bed, you had your feet wedged between my lower thighs because they were cold’ Cillian laughed before running his thumb over your cheeks and then pulling away, realising that he might have overstepped the line once again.

‘Thank you, you are very observant’ you said, feeling the want to kiss him but holding back.

‘How about you have bath while I do this’ Cillian then suggested and your eyes lid up. Your apartment didn’t have a bathtub but you also didn’t see a bathtub in the bathroom you used the last time when you came to Cillian’s house.

‘I feel bad. I should really help you’ you then said, feeling guilty that Cillian was doing all the work.

‘There is no need Y/N. Common, I will run you a bath’ Cillian said before showing you the way upstairs to his bedroom.

‘You’ve got nice taste’ you said as you looked around his bedroom and observed the quite obviously new furniture and artwork.

‘Thanks’ Cillian chuckled as he grabbed a fluffy white towel from the large cabinet inside his walk in-wardrobe.

The entire bedroom was furnished with modern wooden furniture and only a little decoration. Over the bed there was a large painting of a landscape in France and the bedside lamps were almost contemporary or vintage.

Across from the large king size bed was a spa bath and, behind a nook, there was the rest of the bathroom. The entire area could be closed by a large sliding door or could be left open if you wanted to watch TV.

You watched Cillian put some bubble bath into the tub and then turn on the water before changing the lightening and handing you the towel, a t-shirt and your brand-new fluffy socks.

‘I will be downstairs alright?’ he said with a warm smile and you nodded shyly.

You got undressed as soon as he left the room and sank into the hot water. It was delightful but you wished he would have joined you for the bath.

He was very different from Kurt, caring and romantic and you wished that he would let you in, give you chance.

After your bath, you returned downstairs wearing nothing but the t-shirt Cillian had given you, your panties and the red fluffy socks.

‘This was so nice’ you said as the pain in your stomach had decreased. ‘And this smells so good’ you added as you looked what Cillian was cooking.

‘Before I put all this chilli in there, do you like spicy food?’ Cillian asked as you stood next to him, closely watching what he was doing.

‘I love spicy food so bring it on’ you giggled, giving Cillian a big smile.

***Return of Romance***

After you both ate dinner and cleaned up the dishes, Cillian had a quick shower before sitting down next to you on the lounge in a t-shirt and trackpants.

‘Still bad?’ Cillian asked as he observed you holding your stomach.

‘Yeah, it usually lasts a day or two’ you said and, without asking, Cillian got up and boiled the kettle.

Moments later, he returned with the hot water bottle he had purchased and placed it onto your stomach before indicating to you to lie down on the lounge and pick a movie.

‘Seriously? You let me pick a movie again?’ you asked as Cillian sat down next to you.

‘I know I might regret this but yeah’ Cillian chuckled just as you put one of the small lounge pillows onto his laps and rested your head on top of it.

Cillian’s hands soon found your hair and ran his fingers through it gently while you searched through Netflix.

‘Please, no’ Cillian chuckled as you stopped at Pretty Woman and cheekily pressed play.

It was your favourite movie and Cillian already regretted giving you the remote control.

About ten minutes into the movie, you shared some ice cream and then you sat up next to him, curling up against his chest watching Julia Roberts seducing Richard Gere.

You were still in pain and Cillian noticed, his hand rubbing against your lower back gently while you held onto your hot water bottle.

‘Are you alright?’ he whispered while you took in the scent of his aftershave.

‘Hmm, yeah this is nice’ you murmured, referring to Cillian’s hand massaging your lower back gently.

‘I am glad that I am not a woman’ Cillian chuckled just before he moved some of your hair out of your face which was when you looked up at him, starring into his deep blue eyes yet again while Richard Gere was taking Julia Roberts over the piano.

‘I always wanted to do this…on a piano’ you said quietly, causing Cillian to chuckle again but then lean forward, pressing his lips onto yours gently.

You loved the feeling of his soft lips on yours and gave into the kiss which was long, gentle and passionate.

Then your lips drifted apart and you looked at each other full of questions before they met again, this time more intense than before, your tongues meeting and moving in sync.

‘I missed this’ Cillian whispered as your lips drifted apart, his hands caressing your face gently.

‘So did I’ you said quietly before wanting more, kissing Cillian again, not getting enough of his sweet lips.

You spent the remainder of the movie curled up against each other, touching each other and kissing each other until, finally, Richard Gere climbed up Julia Robert’s balcony ladder with a bunch of flowers, admitting his love to her.

‘God that is so damn romantic’ you said as your eyes began to water, Cillian looking at you somewhat confused.

‘If you say so’ he chuckled before giving you another kiss and taking the ice cream bowls to the dishwasher.

‘I should probably get home soon Cilly, I am pretty tired’ you said as you got up, following him to the kitchen but not really wanting to leave.

‘You can stay the night if you want’ Cillian said, his hands on your hips, pulling you close for another kiss.

You nodded shyly before asking him whether he would give your lower back another rub. No one had ever done this for you before and it felt amazing, taking away some of the awful pain.

‘I could give you a massage in bed’ he smirked, causing you to look at him with some confusion.

‘Are you being cheeky?’ you asked, thinking that he intends to get kinky with you which was not what you were after while on your period.

‘No, I am serious’ Cillian said before kissing you again briefly. ‘Let me show you what these hands can do’ he winked, causing you to laugh and follow him upstairs to his bedroom.

As soon as you arrived at the front of Cillian’s large bed, you were quick to take off your t-shirt and climb on the bed, wearing nothing but your cotton panties and warm socks.

Cillian momentarily disappeared, getting some sort of body lotion from beneath the sink.

‘That should work I guess’ he said before he climbed onto the bed with you, his eyes gazing over your mostly naked body for a minute before he squirted some of the cold lotion onto your back.

His hands were magic, working your upper back and then your lower back gently before he leaned down, trailing small kisses at the back of your neck.

Goosebumps were forming all over your skin and you wished that you didn’t have your period as, otherwise, you would have turned around and make him take you on his large and comfortable bed.

Eventually, after Cillian had massaged your back for almost 20 minutes, you turned around to face him, relaxed and even somewhat sleepy.

‘Fuck that felt good’ you giggled just before Cillian took off his t-shirt and tracksuit pants and lied down next to you, quickly throwing the large doona over you both in the hope that you wouldn’t notice his raging erection.

‘Feeling a little better?’ he asked and you nodded before thanking him for taking care of you.

‘You know I could help you with that?’ you smirked as you reached for his crotch, noticing how hard he was.

‘Not tonight’ Cillian said as he pushed your hand away gently, knowing that you were probably still in pain. But, none of this prevented him from pulling you closer towards him for more gentle kisses until, eventually, you curled up against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

‘Cillian?’ you murmured, looking up into his deep blue eyes once again.

‘Hmm’ he responded with a warm smile, his fingers running through your hair gently.

‘What is this between us?’ you wanted to know.

‘I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t stay away from you no matter how hard I try’ he responded, his tone soft and warm.

‘Then stop trying. I mean, why are you trying anyway?’ you chuckled as you continued to look up at him while playing with his chest hair.

‘For so many fucking reasons Y/N’ he responded.

‘Like what?’ you asked.

‘For starters, you are twenty years younger than me’ he explained and you knew that the age gap between you had been an issue for Cillian.

‘So? You know I prefer older men’ you reassured him.

‘I’ve seen the shit you went through with your ex-girlfriend. This is going to be worse and I know much bad press bothers you’ he explained, remembering reading the tabloids when your first long term relationship broke down.

‘I am willing to take my chances. What else?’ you asked.

‘We both just came out of failed relationships. I don’t think it’s smart to start dating again so soon’ Cillian said concerned.

‘Listen Cillian, I don’t expect to be your girlfriend or us going public. At the moment, you keep pushing me away every time we get closer and I wonder if we could just give this a chance. Let’s just keep it between us and see where it goes’ you suggested.

‘I would like that’ he then said before giving you another few kisses and turning off the light.

You were still curled up against Cillian and could feel the heat radiate from his body when you drifted off to sleep. Usually, you hated sleeping in other people’s beds but, that night, you felt comfortable and safe.

No one had ever treated you so well and you were happy with where you and Cillian were at and how far you had come after all the ups and downs.

You also remembered your relationship with Kurt. Being with Cillian was all so different to what you knew. It made you realise what you had missed out on.

You slept well through the night with Cillian holding you tight but, the following morning, you were woken up by an uncomfortable feeling beneath you.

You were quite vigilant when it came to your period and when you felt something sticky on your upper thigh, you got disturbed.

Woken by the unfamiliar feeling, your eyes drifted open slowly and you looked up. It was getting light outside which was when it clicked.

You remembered that you should probably have changed your tampon again before going to sleep and your heart began to pound heavily.

Feeling you wiggle around and moving the doona to the side, Cillian was slowly waking up himself, his arm falling over to the side searching for you.

But, you had scooted up and out of the bed which is when you noticed the two small blood stains on your upper thigh.

You quickly ran to the bathroom to wash them off and change what had to be changed but you knew what this meant.

You probably had gotten some stains onto Cillian’s sheet sheets as well and you weren’t ready to face this embarrassment.

‘What’s wrong Y/N?’ Cillian murmured as you returned from the bathroom.

‘I…I think…’ was all you managed to say as you pulled aside the doona and, as you had feared, noticed a small blood stain not only on the sheets but also on Cillian’s upper thigh, which was caught up in between your legs all night when you were sleeping.

You immediately began to shake nervously, feeling embarrassed by what had just happened.

‘Hey Y/N, what’s wrong?’ Cillian asked as he held out one of his hands, indicating for you to come back to bed as he was surprised by your reaction.

‘I am sorry Cillian but I think I stained your sheets and there is some on your thigh…I am so fucking sorry’ you said almost hysterical.

Cillian looked down at his thigh and the sheets for a brief moment, unsure about what the problem was until he noticed the blood stains.

‘So? I will wash the sheets and have a shower, who cares’ Cillian said with a raised eyebrow before pulling you onto him.

‘That’s so embarrassing’ you said but Cillian disagreed.

‘No, it’s natural. Don’t worry about it’ he said before kissing you passionately and you were surprised that he wasn’t bothered in the slightest. Kurt would have made a massive scene if you had ruined his fine cotton sheets like that.

As you were making out, sharing several kisses while grinding your bodies against each other to get some traction, you suddenly heard a loud female voice coming from the doorway.

‘You are fucking kidding me’ Amanda said loudly and in disbelieved as she saw you on top of Cillian half naked by that point.

‘Holy Fuck’ you shouted before quickly scooting beneath the doona.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Cillian asked somewhat angrily about the fact that she had just entered his house unannounced before getting up and pulling a t-shirt over his head.

‘Getting the last of my stuff. I told you I would come by over the weekend to grab it’ Amanda explained angrily.

‘Yes, and I would have expected you to use the fucking doorbell when you do’ Cillian said firmly before walking downstairs with her.

‘I cannot believe that Kurt was actually right’ Amanda said almost hysterical and you could hear her and Cillian argue from the bedroom.

‘Right about what?’ Cillian asked.

‘That you are fucking her. God that’s so disgusting, you know that? She is almost half your age…trading me in for a younger model, that’s something I never expected’ Amanda said with anger.

‘I didn’t trade you in for anyone Amanda. We broke up because you couldn’t get over your fucking jealousy’ Cillian explained.

‘Well, it was warranted it seems’ Amanda said.

‘I never fucking cheated on you’ Cillian yelled and it was at this point that Amanda began to shout, calling you and Cillian names.

Eventually, Cillian kicked Amanda out of his house and immediately called a locksmith before driving you home.

***First Date***

You didn’t expect to hear from Cillian for the remainder of the day, especially in light of what happened with Amanda and the fact that he told you last night that he wasn’t sure where this was going between you. But, to your surprise, at around 2 o’clock you received a call from him.

During the call, Cillian asked whether you felt like going for dinner with him at restaurant near your house.

Was this a date, you wondered? It sure sounded like a date. If it was a date, did it mean that he no longer cared about the implications he was concerned about previously after your talk last night?

You sure wanted to find out and accepted Cillian’s offer to take you for dinner and he picked you up at 6 o’clock, nice and early so that you had enough time to watch a movie at your place afterwards.

The restaurant was rather busy and Cillian had booked a nice booth in the corner, giving you some privacy.

He ordered a bottle of wine while you looked through the menu for some tapas to share. You enjoyed the same type of food and it was easy for you to agree on the dishes.

‘So, is this a date?’ you asked Cillian after the waitress had taken your order.

‘I suppose’ he chuckled before he took your hands into his, sharing a tender moment with you.

‘Good, because I was worried that our run in with Amanda this morning put you off a little. I’ve heard what she said to you’ you said quietly, knowing about Cillian’s reluctance when it came to dating you, a woman twenty years his junior.

‘If anything, it made me care even less about the reservations I have about us’ Cillian explained.

‘Well, hopefully, those reservations will disappear completely when you realise how awesome I am’ you joked just before the waitress brought out the first dish.

You enjoyed your dinner and wine despite the fact that a group of girls on a table nearby were watching you. You tried hard not to care, but the giggling and whispering bothered you more than it would usually have when you were out with someone else.

Eventually, one of the women from the table came over just as you and Cillian were about to leave, asking Cillian for photo which he declined politely.

The restaurant was only a short stroll from your apartment and you were ready to get your comfortable clothes on and watch a movie with Cillian.

Shortly after you arrived at your apartment, you got changed into a nightie, poured two glasses of wine and asked Cillian whether he could get the lighter from the top draw of your bedside table so that you could light some candles.

As you put the two glasses of wine onto your coffee table, you heard a loud buzzing coming from besides your bed and you recognised the sound immediately.

‘Cillian!’ you shouted as you watched Cillian play with one of your vibrators, a big grin running over his face.

‘Give it here. I said top draw, not bottom draw’ you chuckled as you took the vibrator out of his hand.

‘How does it work? It clearly won’t fit inside you’ he asked curiously, his grin getting bigger.

‘It’s called a wand and it is for clitoral stimulation only. I actually never used it because it’s too intense. My sister talked me into it, saying it’s the best thing ever. But I don’t know’ you explained, your face flushing with embarrassment.

‘Sounds interesting’ Cillian chuckled, which is when you noticed that Cillian had already lid the candles on your beside table.

‘Not really’ you said before you shuffed the vibrator back into the draw and, just as you came up, Cillian crashed his lips onto yours.

‘There are other things I’ve found in your draw’ Cillian said after your lips drifted apart and before he reached for the handcuffs and satin blindfold in your bedside table and threw them onto your bed.

‘Cillian, remember, I’ve got my period’ you giggled just as Cillian pulled your nightie over your head, leaving you in nothing but your panties.

‘I am aware. Just let me make you feel good’ he said, grinning again before pushing you onto the bed and hoovering over you.

‘Cillian, I am serious’ you giggled, his teeth grazing your neck gently.

‘Don’t worry, your panties are staying on and I promise that I won’t touch you down there’ he said reassuringly and, whilst you had no idea how he would get you off without touching your most intimate body part, you agreed and reluctantly lifted your hands over your head and allowed Cillian to tie your wrists against the bedhead with your leather cuffs.

Cillian then gently placed the blindfolds over your eyes, carefully tying the knot behind your head without catching your hair in between it.

You trusted him. Yet it was difficult for you to relax especially since, all of a sudden, you heard a familiar loud bussing sound again.

‘No no no, this vibrator is too intense. I never….oh my fucking god’ you moaned as you threw your head back into the pillow and arched your back as soon as the vibrator hit your clit through your thin cotton panties.

‘Fuck that’s sexy’ Cillian observed as he watched you squirm against your restraints and moan as he moved the vibrator over your clit in circle motions.

‘Don’t move’ he then chuckled as he placed the vibrator onto your clit and resting the handle on your stomach. You felt the weight on your bed lightening and heard him get up, walking away from you momentarily.

‘Fuck Cillian…don’t leave me like this’ you protested just before you heard the door of the fridge opening. What was he doing? Getting himself a beer?

Then, finally, you could feel his weight on the mattress again, right next to you.

His hands began to roam over your breasts and stomach while he pushed the wand back against your clit more firmly after tuning it up a notch.

‘No no no….oh god’ you moaned, your legs squirming.

‘If you do not stay still on your own, I will tie your legs up too’ Cillian said cheekily before pulling on each of your nipple piercings slightly. He knew that you loved it when he did this, subjecting you to this little bit of pain.

You inhaled sharply, wanting him to pull them again, but Cillian had other ideas and it wasn’t long until you felt something extremely cold on your left nipple.

‘Fuck, Cillian’ you moaned as ice cold water began to run down your left breast while he turned up the setting of the vibrator again.

The ice cold feeling soon moved to your right nipple, running down from it over your stomach like a cold stream of water.  By this time it was obvious to you that it was an ice cube which Cillian had placed into his mouth and which he was running over your breasts.

You could feel it melt slowly and the cold water ran all the way to your belly button followed by his hot breath.

Then, you could feel the entire ice cube slid down your stomach and all the way to the hem of your panties while, again, Cillian turned up the vibrator, reaching its highest setting.

‘Holy Christ’ you inhaled, trying as hard as you could to stay still.

You were close to climaxing and Cillian had to hold you down, securing your thighs so that you were unable to squirm away.

‘Oh fuck yes’ you screamed as, finally, your orgasm washed over you and you had no choice but to give into the sensation.

It was at this point that you heard a knock on the wall from the apartment beside yours, causing Cillian to chuckle as you had told him about the letter you received from your neighbour last week complaining about the noise level from your apartment when Cillian visited you the last time.

You eventually came down from your high and Cillian released his tight grip on you and turned off the vibrator before taking off your blindfolds and untying you from the bed.

‘Feeling better?’ he asked and, surprisingly, you did.

With a quick nod and thanks, you pulled Cillian on top of you for a passionate kiss before pushing him down onto the mattress beneath you.

Without words, you looked at him and suggestively bit your lips before reaching for his black Calvin Klein briefs and pulling them down.

‘You know I just love your cock…it’s fucking perfect’ you smirked as you starred at his erection before separating his legs, bending his knees up and taking your place between them.

Cillian scooted himself up in the bed so that he could watch you and you leaned forward to kiss him, loving and deep, before making your decent on his perfectly toned body.

When you finally reached his hard shaft, you kissed the tip of his cock suggestively before collecting his precum with your tongue.

Cillian’s hands knew what to do to help you now and he gathered up your hair and hold it out of the way as you lowered your head and take his cock into your mouth, moaning as your mouth is filled.

Cillian groaned as you finally took all of his length into your mouth and down your throat. You wanted to devour him and you took your time about it, pleasure slowly building, pressure teased and growing as you kept bobbing your head up and down.

Looking up at him while you wrapped your lips around his hard member turned him on incredibly and it didn’t take long for his breathing to become laboured.

By this point, his legs straighten, splayed out on either side of you while the frequency of his moans and groans increased.

You knew Cillian was getting close and you loved watching him moan with a slightly open mouth while you slowly and deliberately wrap your lips tightly on the head of his cock and take him deep into your throat again, all the way to the base.

Your eyes close on their own with the sensation and greed you feel and each time you rise you look into Cillian’s deep blue eyes, stopping to let him watch as you flick your tongue all over his frenulum and swollen pink tip.

His face suddenly changed and his mouth contorts. Cillian’s hands tighten, no longer simply holding your long hair out of the way but gripping your head with handfuls of your hair in both hands right at the scalp. He took control, pushing your head down hard, his cock filling your throat before letting go of you again.

‘Again’ you moaned, loving the way he takes charge and he complied with your request, grabbing your hair again and making you take his length all the way into your throat.

‘Fuck Y/N, I am close’ he moaned and, with him thrusting into your mouth and you bobbing your head at the same time, it wasn’t long until you felt it, the unmistakable spurt of cum into your mouth as his body is finally released.

You could taste him, feeling the slick cream on your tongue, holding it in your mouth as you milk the last drops. Then looking up, you see Cillian’s beautiful sexy smile and flushed cheeks, open your mouth and show him the cum pooled on your tongue.

Another groan escaped him as he watched you hold it, tilting your head back slightly while some drips escaped you and ran over your chin.

Looking at his face, completely turned on by what you were doing, you smiled wickedly and very deliberately closed your lips, looked at him, and swallowed.

‘God, why are you so fucking sexy?’ Cillian asked just as you moved up towards him and pressed your lips onto his.

‘I don’t know, I just am’ you winked before sharing another passionate kiss while his hands were roaming over your back.

After some pillow talk, you eventually curled up against Cillian, running your fingers through his chest hair while his right hand gently touched your cheek.

It didn’t take either of you long to fall asleep and you were still curled up against each other the next morning when you heard a loud knock on the door.

***Meeting June***

‘Will we ever be able to just wake up next to each other without being interrupted?’ Cillian growled as he turned over, ignoring the knock on the door completely. He was clearly not a morning person.

You jumped up quickly and threw on Cillian’s t-shirt which, the night before, had found it’s way to the floor besides your bed.

Wearing nothing but the t-shirt, some purple cotton panties and giant plush socks with small bunny rabbits on it, you walked to the door and opened it, thinking that, surely, it was just a delivery. Your local postman had a habit of arriving early and you were considering getting a postal box soon.

‘Good Morning Sis’ June said and it took you a few seconds to rub your eyes yawn before realising that you probably shouldn’t let her inside with Cillian lying in your bed completely naked.

But your sister didn’t ask for permission and barged inside, putting a bag of croissants and two coffees on to the kitchen counter.

‘What are you doing here?’ you asked surprised as she hung up her coat.

‘I know how shit you feel when you get your period and you didn’t come by the other night so I wanted to check on you, that’s all’ June explained just as she was walking through your loft, not having noticed Cillian yet as part of the view of the bed was covered by a large industrial style bookshelf.

‘Now is not a very good time’ you said nervously which was when she noticed clothes scattered across the floor.

‘Oh shit’ she giggled just before she bluntly looked past the large bookshelf.

‘Morning June’ Cillian chuckled just as he reached down to the floor to retrieve his briefs before pulling them beneath the doona and trying to discretely put them back on.

‘Holy fuck’ June shouted, her jaw dropping to the floor.

‘Jupp, swearing runs in the family’ Cillian chuckled before getting up from beneath the doona, wearing nothing but his black Calvin Klein briefs.

With a grin on his face, he walked over towards you and gave you a quick kiss before taking your coffee from your hand, taking a sip and telling you that he will go and have a quick shower.

He quickly retrieved his jeans from the floor and disappeared into the bathroom all while your sister’s eyes followed his every move.

‘Stop looking at him’ you demanded, giving your sister a nudge as it was obvious to you that she was checking out Cillian’s ass.

‘How the fuck did this happen? Did I just dream this?’ she asked as you were shyly drinking your coffee with some embarrassment, unsure how to answer her question.

‘Oh my god, he is the guy you were telling me about. This all makes sense now’ June said and you confirmed her suspicions and told her that you’ve resolved your differences.

You trusted your sister and told her about what you had discussed with Cillian the night before and that you were at his house, which is why you cancelled on her.

Eventually, Cillian came out of the bathroom, wearing his tight black jeans but not much else.

Your sister looked at him with some excitement, not even ashamed for drooling over the man you were involved with.

You noticed immediately, giving her another nudge just as Cillian stole the rest of your coffee.

‘Can you put your shirt on please’ you eventually said before handing Cillian one of the croissants and the jam from your fridge.

‘Well, I would, but you are wearing it’ Cillian reminded you, unbothered by the fact that your sister was in the same room.

You quickly disappeared behind the bookshelf and changed into your own clothes before handing Cillian his t-shirt and your sister sighed with some disappointment as he put it on.

Despite the fact that he had met your sister already, he felt somewhat awkward with your sister around and, after putting on his t-shirt, he left your apartment in order to get some more coffees, allowing you to update your sister on the situation.

While he was out, waiting for his coffee order at the nearby coffee shop, he received a call from his agent drawing his attention to a quite unfavourable article which had just appeared online, less than 30 minutes ago.

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

OK! Magazine News 

Cillian Murphy following the Hollywood Trend?

Rumours have emerged suggesting a developing relationship between actor Cillian Murphy (43) and singer/songwriter Y/N L/N (23). This comes after Murphy has only last month been spotted at a Dublin fundraising event with long term girlfriend Amanda Winter and L/N was rumoured to be involved with local artist Kirsten Mann after having been spotted leaving Soho Bar together as little as three nights ago.

Music producer Kurt Meskin confirmed the break up from singer and songwriter girlfriend Y/N L/N earlier yesterday and revealed that the break up was due to a romance unfolding between Y/N L/N and actor Cillian Murphy. It is unclear how Kirsten Mann is involved and Meskin wasn’t able to comment on Mann’s relationship with L/N’s.

Murphy and L/N have been working together with others, including Meskin, on the United Arts and Music Festival since earlier this year. The festival is set to take place later this year and will feature L/N as well as Murphy’s long term girlfriend Amanda Winter.

Meskin said that he was saddened by L/N’s actions but has accepted her decision.

‘There is not much I can do. Unfortunately, these things happen but it’s simply sad to know that not only one, but two relationships have been destroyed by her actions’ Meskin said when referring to what sounds like an affair between L/N and Murphy.

It is not clear whether Murphy and Winter have since separated but it appears to be likely as L/N and Murphy were spotted in front of Le Maison Restaurant in Dublin late yesterday evening.

The picture appeared on Twitter shortly after the date night between Murphy and L/N and has since received a large number of comments as fans question what happened with Amanda Winter and criticise the twenty year ago gap between Murphy and L/N.

“Perhaps he’s following into the footsteps of other Hollywood actors like DiCaprio who like their girlfriends much younger” one person commented on Twitter.

Neither L/N or Murphy have commented on the rumours but, with L/N’s social media presence, it is probably just a matter of time until a statement is received.

  Tag List (Cillian):

@lilymurphy03  @deefigs @theflamecrystal   @desperate-and-broken  @weepingstudentfishhorse   @livinginfantaxy  @rosey1981  @atomicsoulcollecto  @peakyboyslover  @nerdy4itall  @elenavampire21  @hanster1998  @mariapaiva13  @fairypitou  @harry-is-my-sunflower  @zozeebo  @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa  @littlewierdalien  @sad-huffle-nerd  @theflamecrystal   @peakymalfoyscullymulder  @themissthang  @0ghostwriter0  @stylescanbeatmyback  @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni  @momoneymolife  @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03  @mcntsee​@cloudofdisney​ @missymurphy1985​​ @peakymalfoyscullymulder  @otterly-fey janelongxox  @uchihacumdump

Cannot Tag (please check your settings):

@l0tsofpennies @margoo0 @trolleydolly @avonlady1985 @chrisevanshoeee  @daydreamingnymph  @fookingshelby   @chocolatehalo

[1engele]

daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader - 8. solo

Previous | Next

[warnings: underage drinking, smoking, weed, near death experience?, crying]

"never have i dealt with anything more difficult than my own soul." — You leave the roof late in the night. Sal had gotten up and retreated into his apartment a little while earlier—but you'd decided to stay and make sure he didn't come back there.

Three days pass. They all consist of fleeting glances and irresolute tension. Things remain the same with the group dynamic, except for between you and Sal. Neither of you seem to know how to continue from that conversation on the roof. No one else notices, though. They'd never suspected anything from the beginning, it seems.

The beginning of your involvement with Sal involved a little bit of buildup and then a snap which resulted in a sexual encounter (or two).

Now it was a bit different. Now things were a little less lighthearted.

It's a Saturday—you'd planned to spend it inside as usual. That's until your phone starts ringing.

You flip your phone open, read over the contact, and answer the call.

"Hi, Ash."

"Y/N," she starts. You hear the excitement to continue in her voice. "There's a party tonight."

"Oh?" You get up from your seat on your bed.

"Some stoner Larry has connections with invited him and said to bring friends. He wants to bring us—save for Todd. He doesn't do parties."

"Wait," your eyebrows furrow. "Me?"

"Yeah!" She says from the other end of the line. "It'll be fun. Cmon."

You bite your lip nervously, anxiety knotting in your stomach. "I don't know. I've never really.."

Ashley is momentarily silent on the other line. She must be contemplating what to say to convince you. "Sal's coming too. Parties aren't necessarily his thing, either—so maybe you guys could try it out together?"

You open your mouth and then promptly close it. Something inside of you suddenly really wanted to go to this party. "Um... alright. Okay."

"Cool! What're you gonna wear?"

You look toward the drawer that contained your clothes and bit your lip. "Not sure yet. I'll update you on that."

"Okay, don't forget to text me! See you at eight."

The call declined from the other line. The phone that held the phone to your ear slipped into your lap. You pressed your lips together and tried to ignore the familiar feeling of sickening nausea and anxiety.

You don't rush yourself on getting ready for the party, because the time you're due to be done won't be for a while.

You take your time with the hours you have. You shower, take your time on eyeliner, mascara, and lipgloss—and finally decide on what you'll wear.

You decide on a square neck white cropped tank with short sleeves and your nicest pair of light blue, slightly washed out jeans. You slid on your favorite, sort of chunky white sneakers over white socks.

It isn't long after you finish when Ashley calls and informs you she's arrived at the apartments and Larry and Sal have already joined her out in the car. You give yourself a once-over in the mirror and then leave the apartment.

Your mother was nowhere to be found. She's either at work or drinking with her coworkers.

Once you've opened the door and climbed into the Ford Fiesta, you immediately realize your predicament—Sal is the only person in the backseat with you.

The drive there is decently long and painfully tense. Neither you nor Sal know how to speak to each other, so no words are exchanged beneath the heavy metal music emitting from the radio.

When you finally arrive at the party, it's recognizably crowded, drunken teenagers are flowing from the front door, in and out, and there's a good amount on the lawn. The newest radio hit is playing on a considerably loud speaker, and the vibrations are notable even from a distance.

"Woah," Larry says, staring at the house as Ashley pulls onto the side of the road. "Didn't realize he was so popular."

You all exit the Ford Fiesta and cross the road. You cringe as you watch someone vomit onto the grass, and another person ripping from a bong in the wide open.

Smoke flies into your face and your eyes as you enter the home. You cough, waving a hand as you blindly follow after your friends.

Eventually, the four of you find yourself on two couches directly facing each other. You on one, Larry and Ashley on the other. Sal is stood to the side.

Larry materializes a bottle of Fireball that you guessed he stole from someone on the way in, opens the cap with his teeth, and takes several gulps.

"Where did you get that?" Ashley laughs over the music, pulling the sleeves of her lavender sweater over her hands.

"Stole it," he looks to Sal and directs the bottle toward him. "Want some?"

"Sure," Sal replies, to your surprise—taking it from Larry's grasp and walking away and in your direction.

"You're drinking that?" You ask him, testing the waters.

"No, actually," you watch Sal round to the other side of the couch to linger behind you. "I'm limiting him. He'll thank me later."

Once he's out of your field of vision, you tip your head back and gaze up at him—your perspective on him being upside down. Your gaze zeroes in on the bottle of Fireball he's clutching in his hand.

"Hey," you say, meeting his eyes. "Give me some."

It was time to give him that excuse—the excuse to break the ice.

He leans in a bit, gesturing toward you with the bottle. "You want it?"

A grin pulls at your glossed lips. Instead of reaching for the bottle, you open your mouth and tilt your chin up.

Sal looks on for a moment but laughs once he realizes what you want. Everyone else at the couches seem decently distracted with each other and the overall environment—so he doesn't seem to worry about it too much.

He reaches his hand around and towards your neck, gripping your jaw in his fingers and holding you firmly. You feel his cold rings press into your skin when he tips your head further back just a bit—and then steadily pours a shot-amount of Fireball into your mouth with his other hand.

Sal stops at the right time, looks on as you pull back and sit up, and cautiously watches the back of your head as you assumedly swallow the whisky. But when you turn a bit in your seat to peer at him over your shoulder, you're holding your mouth closed and pressing a closed fist to your lips while soundlessly giggling.

"What?" He laughs, a hand moving to the top of the couch. He leans in a bit. "Can you not swallow it?"

Your shoulders shake slightly as you continue to laugh. You shake your head up and down.

"Do you need to spit it out?" Sal asks, his tone warming into concern.

You shake your head from side to side. You meet his eyes and swallow, gasping as the liquid slides down your throat and burns all the way down. You cough, the flavor of cinnamon and what tasted like Big Red gum overloaded your senses.

"God," you breathe out, giggling all the while. The alcohol is gross but you're feeling good. "It's not great."

"Yeah, that's why I'm holding Larry off, so he won't be puking his guts out later."

You look up to the boy, who's sat on the arm of the couch opposite to you. He's busy talking to some equally stoned guy, so you can't manage to catch his eye—but you catch Ashley's.

She had this look of astonishment on her face.

Had she been watching what happened? When Sal poured Fireball in your mouth?

Your face grew hot thinking about it.

Sal wanders away from you again, and you find yourself drinking more than you should. Eventually, your rationality disappears.

It's been a few hours and Sal hasn't seen you for a while. So when he hears about a girl wearing a white crop top walking across the roof of the house, he feels like he's going to vomit.

It takes him a record time of 6 seconds to get out of the door and onto the lawn. Upon looking up at the roof, his suspicions are confirmed. He shoulders past multiple people to place himself near the front of the crowd and gazes up in horror.

"Sal!" You yell, gesturing toward him with something between a wave and a point. "I'd recognize that hair anywhere!"

Multiple heads within the crowd turn away from you and towards him. He puts aside his social anxiety and the wave of unease that washes over his body and tries to focus on you. "Please come down," he rushes out, raising his voice just enough for it to be audible over the crowd.

You laugh like he's told a hilarious joke and he quickly realizes his mistake. That's the worst thing he could've told your intoxicated self. You move toward the edge of the roof, shaky and uncoordinated. "You want me to jump?"

"No!" He exclaims, his hands flying up, fingers splayed. "No. Don't do that!"

"Holy shit!" He hears Larry shout from somewhere closer to the front door of the house. Sal guesses he's just now catching wind of the current situation. Moments after, both of his brunette friends are at his side.

"What the hell is going on?!" Ashley yells, verdant eyes glued to the sight before them.

You lost your balance once again, but this time a bit worse—your foot catching on a shingle on the roof and effectively knocking the red solo cup out of your hand. It dropped onto the downward slope of the roof and the liquor inside of it spilled down the side.

Whenever Sal witnessed the toe of your white sneaker catch onto that shingle, he felt as though his very soul had been ripped from his body. Immediately after he watched you regain your footing and stable yourself, though—his heartbeat calmed to a steadier pace.

"I'm going up there," he stated beneath the chatter.

Both Ashley and Larry's heads whipped toward him.

"You'll kill yourself!" Larry exclaims incredulously. Ashley opens her mouth to assumedly second Larry's statement, but Sal cuts her off by walking away.

"Not before she does," he mutters, pushing his way through the density of bodies and forcing his way through the front door. His senses are disoriented like he's been submerged beneath water as the volume of the music scratched at his eardrums and pulsed the innards of his skull. Adrenaline courses through his blood like a drug whilst he shoulders past both mindlessly drunk and carelessly high teenagers.

Sal doesn't spare them a second glance, but their unconcern does remain in his mind. The fact that they're continuing their lives while he feels as though something that's growing into something of importance in his is about to be taken from him... it's mind-numbing.

He's never been an optimistic person, he's always tried to view things in the way they're most likely to happen—and all that's beneath that two-story house is a long drop and concrete. If you fall, you'll break your head open and you'll die.

He finally makes it to the stairs. He makes a break for it then, tripping over his own feet multiple times. Anything could happen in this amount of time, and he knew no one else was going to help him.

Sal's thoughts grow more and more disordered as he navigates the dark halls of the house. The music seems to have only grown louder, the deafening mixture of guitar and drums taunting him.

He remembers the window on the outside of the house. Sal estimates which room it would be, locates it, and approaches the door. He turns the knob, but it doesn't fully rotate.

The door is locked from the inside. Of course. Who would have a party and leave the bedroom unlocked so people could fuck all over your comforter?

He bites out a curse only he hears and prepares himself to force the door open.

Sal grabs the doorknob tightly, prepares himself, and rams the side of his body into the wood. He doesn't even feel the pain, just does it again, and again.

He goes until that half of his body is numb.

The door finally budges, and he wastes no time entering the room. He doesn't hesitate when he reaches the double-hung window he'd been seeking. He grips it at the bottom and pulls it up and open, clenching his teeth together painfully.

Sal stares out at the vastness of the night, the golden streetlights, and how they shine down on the crowd of people below him. They all seem to be looking at the same place, up, but not at him—and he can only swallow thickly.

Carefully, Sal moves to sit on the windowsill, gripping what was above him tightly, his legs outside. He then ducks to leave the room and shivers as cool air hits the front of his neck.

He starts walking the roof, steadily—like his life depends on it. Because.. it does.

Or yours. Yours depends on it.

"Y/N!" Sal calls as he finally reaches a point where you're in his line of sight. Momentarily, he's worried he'd scared you. But you turn your head, meet his eyes, and smile. Despite that, your face spells fear all over it. Something must have sobered you up a bit while he'd been inside.

"I'm going to come to you. Do not walk towards me!"

You blink lazily, because you were drunk, and nodded. You shivered, hugging yourself. It didn't seem to do much, though. Your arms were bare.

"Fuck," he breathes, gazing down at the fall that could await him if he misstepped and immediately reverted his gaze. Blood rushes between his ears as he steadily makes his way towards you.

"Please don't fall!" You suddenly exclaim, your hair tussling in the breeze. A strand blows over your face, so you quickly raise a hand to move it back in place.

He looks up from his feet and stares you in the eyes. "I won't," he affirms, you and himself, continuing across the roof. "Just stay put, okay?"

It doesn't take long to get over to you. He's mostly sober, so it isn't hard on that part. What's difficult is calming his steady heart.

He's not scared of falling. Not necessarily scared of injury or death. But he is scared of not making it to you.

Once he's at an arms reach of your shaking form, he reaches out a hand, palm facing the darkness of the sky.

You seem to read his mind, slowly grabbing his hand. Sal maneuvers your joint hands to where your palms press together and your fingers are interlaced. He doesn't know if it's the blood rushing through his ears or the distance from the ground, but it's as if everything below becomes very quiet.

You meet his gaze, your pretty eyes glossy with tears. The eyeliner you were wearing had just begun to collect beneath your lower lash line.

He squeezes your hand and leads you to be in front of him.

It's not long after that that he's gotten you off of the roof. Sal watches you slip through the open window before turning toward the density of people beneath him on the ground. He breathes in as he catches both Larry and Ashley's eyes—he can't read their expressions, but he wouldn't be surprised if there was shock written all over it—and then ducks back into the window.

As soon as the window is shut and it meets the windowsill once more, Sal whips his head toward you. "Y/N-"

Before he'd saw your face, and the language of your body as you were sat on the edge of the bed, he was going to scold you, and then go downstairs and find you some water and sober you up—all of that falls down the drain when he sees the stream of tears falling down your face. Every time you blink, more drop—quickly staining your cheeks with black makeup.

"Oh," he breathes, suddenly speechless. "Y/N-"

You attempt at taking a breath in, it seems—but it's a failure because it hitches and turns into a shoulder-shaking sob.

"I'm sorry," you cry, roughly dragging the tips of your fingers beneath your eyes. This only smears the running mascara further. "I'm just drunk."

Sal momentarily feels like breaking down in tears himself, that's how much this entire ordeal stressed him out. He approaches your trembling body and crouches down in front of you.

"Hey," he says, softly. "It doesn't matter whether or not you're intoxicated. Your feelings still matter, okay?"

You sniffle, still attempting to wipe your tears away, and reluctantly nod. "I'm sorry," you try again.

He places his hands on your knees and squeezes them firmly. "It's okay."

You jerk into a sob, leaning forward and pressing the side of your face on his shoulder. You slowly tuck your arms beneath his and cross them over the expanse of his back, palms flat on each shoulder blade. The convulsive gasps were hard to stop, making it hard to breathe.

Sal breathed out softly against the prosthetic, raising his arms and encasing them around your torso.

He didn't wonder about the reason for your tears. Assuming things wouldn't help you anymore.

"I don't know why I did that," you whisper, quieting yourself to swallow your saliva. "Maybe I do. I think I was trying to prove something to myself."

He finds himself holding you tighter, your chest pressed to his, feeling your heartbeat through the fabric that separated you both—oddly enough, even at this moment, it reminds him of that night in the car. You had been even closer to him then, though.

"It was stupid," you murmured. "Why would I do that, after what we had talked about last night?"

"What if we jumped together?" he remembers saying.

"Some things can't be explained," he replies earnestly. "You don't need to know why you did what you did. It was stupid, though. I'd probably walk across the roof of a two-story house for you again, but.."

You pull back and meet his eyes, your face wet. The majority of your makeup had been cried off and your lipgloss had been smudged.

You must've sensed his examination, breaking the visual contact and sniffling. "I know I look ridiculous right now."

Sal smiles. He knows she can't see it, but maybe she'll hear it. "I don't think so," he murmurs, looking off to the side. "I think that's a bathroom. You can clean up in there if you want."

You follow his gaze and then return your eyes to his and laugh a bit. You still sound drunk, he notes. Obviously. He'd poured a good amount of Fireball into your mouth and watched you drink plenty of other things.

"Feels kinda weird using a stranger's bathroom," you laugh, your breath hitching from the earlier crying.

Sal rolls his eyes humorously, gripping your knees tighter as he pulls himself off of the floor. "The guy who lives here is Larry's friend—and a stoner. I doubt he'd mind. And if he does get mad, I'll take responsibility for it. I forced that door through, anyway.."

Your gaze swivels toward the door, which is not shut but mostly closed. When he glances to where you're looking, he notices it seems a bit.. crooked.

He inwardly cringes. "I'll pay for it. Come on."

Sal follows you into the bathroom. You seem reluctant to enter first, so he does, opening the door and reaching to the side to turn the lights on. They do what they're supposed to—eventually. They're momentarily unresponsive before becoming alive—the illumination brightening the room with a dull yellow hue.

You step onto the tile and began to search for whatever it was you needed. You kneeled at one of the cabinets below the sink, opened it, and ducked your head lower.

"Oh!" You exclaim quietly, reaching in and pulling out two things. A bottle of half-empty makeup remover and a bag of some cotton rounds.

"Maybe he has a girlfriend?" He hears you say to yourself, standing up, nudging the cabinet closed with your foot, and placing the things you found beside the sink.

Sal reaches over and closes the door. He'd rather not have to witness the sight of some drunkards wandering in and fooling around on the bed.

"Lock it," you say. "I'd rather no one- no one see me like this."

His hand was already on the doorknob, so he just reaches down a bit and locks the door.

He watches you struggle a bit with the bag of cotton rounds, trying but failing to open it, so he reaches forward and delicately plucks it out of your grasp.

Sal slides the makeup remover over and pats the place on the counter it was previously. "Sit."

You peer into his eyes inquisitively but waste no time hoisting yourself up and onto the cold surface.

After that, he plucks the bottle of makeup remover off of the counter and douses the cotton round in the liquid. He reaches forward from the distance that your knees created between the both of you, but you spread your thighs and press the heel of your shoe into his lower back, pulling him in so he's between your legs.

Sal doesn't see it suggestively, because you're drunk—but he's glad you asked him to lock the door because, with his luck, Larry or Ashley would find their way into the bathroom and get all of the wrong ideas.

The firmness just beneath his navel presses into the edge of the counter as he cups one side of your face and began wiping away at the eyeliner and mascara and everything it messed up.

"Thank you," you say sweetly, blinking at him with appreciation in your eyes. "Where'd you learn how to do that?"

He remembers a silhouette. Her back was turned to him, golden hair cascading just past her shoulder blades. He remembers blue eyes that looked a lot like his own staring into a mirror, a hand which adorned a wedding ring wiping away makeup from the day.

"Read it on the label of the bottle," he replies, meeting your eyes and looking away.

As he's finishing up, he hears a rapping of knuckles against the locked door. He tosses the used cotton rounds into a trash bin in the corner and then locks eyes with you curiously.

"Occupied," he calls out, still looking at you. The knocking only gets louder, which makes you laugh.

"He said it's occupied!" You yell over the unintelligible music downstairs, your words breaking into a giggle. You press your knees against his waist, and he doesn't even realize it when his hands meet your thighs.

The knocking ceases, fading into a voice. "Is that you guys in there?"

Fucking Larry. Speak of the goddamn devil—that's what he would've said if he'd come knocking sooner.

The both of you seem to be thinking the same thing, locking eyes in terror. You quickly get off of the counter, and Sal unlocks the door and swings it open.

Sure enough, he's standing there—in all of his glory and highness. Larry blinks, the whites of his glossy eyes tinted red. He looks between the both of you before speaking. "Why were.."

"I had to pee," You choose to deadpan.

Sal feels himself grow even paler than he already is. "I came in.. after.. that."

Larry intakes a mouthful of whatever is in the red solo cup he's holding in his tan, lanky fingers, and swallows thickly. "Okay," he croaks, instinctively cringing as the alcohol passed through his chest. He gestured the cup toward you. "Uh..crazy stunt you pulled up there, huh?"

Sal saw your face shift in his peripheral vision. "Huge lapse of judgment," you reply.

"Nobody could tell who you were, so don't worry about that," the brunette smiles a bit. He returns his attention to Sal. "They've started playing country," sure enough, Sal hears the sound of a banjo from the speakers downstairs, effectively punctuating Larry's statement.

"Yeah.." Larry mumbles, sipping his drink and looking up and through his eyebrows. "Ash said to come find you guys so we can leave."

It doesn't take much, after that.

As you're leaving, Larry pulls the door open and furrows his brow at the condition of the hinges. "Wow. How old is this thing?" He mumbles.

Sal hears you snort.

The three of you descend the stairs, skirting past countless teenagers standing on the steps drinking or smoking. Sal makes the mistake of letting you fall behind and feels you stumble and smack him in the back. It's easy to steady himself, quickly gripping the railing—but he's concerned about you, so he turns around.

A guy with a cigarette balancing in his teeth is eying you with frustration pulling at his features. His gaze pulls from your face and down your body absentmindedly.

"Watch it," he murmurs.

"Sorry," you breathe, jerking your head away and meeting Sal's eyes worriedly. Keep walking, you express in the hues of your eyes.

Sal reaches forward and interlaces your fingers with his as he'd done on the roof. He makes a show of it, too—so the guy with the cigarette sees the rings on both of his hands. Sal gives him a distinct look when they lock eyes, rolls his jaw, and lets you lead him down the stairs, instead of the other way around.

By the time you're all nearly shot from weaving through the multitude of sweaty bodies and navigating through plumes of smoke thicker than fog, the three of you find Ashley petting what he'd assume is the host's dog.

No one questions it.

"You good to drive?" Larry asks, placing his cup on a nearby surface.

"Oh, yeah," she rises from her crouch beside the dog. The animal walks away, his golden tail wagging excitedly at the next person who would give him pets. "A gross sip of something put me off of drinking tonight a while earlier. And, uh.. the whole roof thing dried me out."

You sigh. "I'm sorry about that. It sobered me up, too."

She shakes her head, a wispy strand of light brown hair falling over her face. "It was stupid, yes, and I hope you don't do it again, but all that matters now is that you're safe."

Ashley blinks kind green eyes at you and smiles, reaching forward, taking your hand, and leading you away. Sal hears you laugh and follow after her as both of you head for the front door.

He turns to look at Larry once he loses sight of both of you in the crowd. He examines Sal with bleary dark eyes and looks as though he's about to say something, but he doesn't get to.

Even over the blaring country music, Sal hears a yell and then some fearful shouting. He whips around toward the sounds, which were toward the front of the house.

Red and blue flashing lights shine through the windows.

"Shit!"

"Ah, fuck," Larry groaned, nimbly wrapping his fingers around Sal's wrist and dragging him into the density of the panicked crowd. "Did you see where they went?"

Sal shakes his head. "No," he knows you're intoxicated. Panic settles in. He chews his lip, his eyes desperately scamming for a girl wearing a white top squared at the neck—you. "Y/N's had a lot to drink, Larry. If the police-"

"Don't worry about the Five-O, let's worry about the girls," Larry replies absentmindedly, keeping his firm hold on Sal.

"They must've gone to the Ford," Sal shouts over the music, which, for some reason, is still playing. "We were leaving anyway. I'm sure they're in the car."

Larry releases Sal and motions toward the back of the house. "There's a back door. I'll text Ashley and tell her to drive down the block and we can meet them on foot."

It was an agreeable plan. Waltzing out of the house and walking straight up to the car wouldn't be wise.

Larry does what he'd said he'd do. Turns out, Sal was right, they had made it to the car moments before the police had rolled up. Ashley informed him it was two squad cars and four officers. Seemed like overkill for a house party—but he wouldn't know. He didn't do this often.

When Larry was on the phone, Sal was very tempted to ask about Y/N, but refrained.

On the way to the back door, they crossed through the kitchen. Larry snatched an unopened bottle of alcohol of a brand Sal didn't recognize and carried it along with him for the road.

As soon as they made it out of the house, they both made a break for it, running between houses and into multiple different backyards on their way.

They slowed down once they were at a measurable distance from the party, gasping for air. Sal panted against the prosthetic, placing his hands on his knees and slowing his gasps into slow breaths, attempting to calm his racing heart.

They stood on the side of the road, the music in the distance (albeit a lot quieter) still pounding into the night.

Sal lowered himself down onto the curb. Larry joined him, raising the bottle he'd chose to bring with him to his mouth, and opened the steel cap with his teeth. He spits it onto the road and gestures it toward Sal.

"Bottoms up," he said, bringing it to his lips and taking several gulps.

Sal rolled his eyes playfully, eyebrows rising as Ashley's Ford Fiesta cruised down the road and slowed to a stop in front of them. He stood up from the curb and pulled Larry off of it as well.

They entered the car, sliding into the backseat. Larry continued to down the beer he'd found as Ashley turned around in her seat.

"The night's still young," she says. "Any ideas of what we could do?"

It's really not. Sal's a bit disoriented so he doesn't know what time it is but he wouldn't be surprised if it was 3 AM.

You then turn around in the passenger seat and grin mischievously. "Let's go to the lake."

Oh, great.

[ephemereos]

Indulging further into the hyperfixation with another kawoshin au.

Farmer Shinji x Alien Kaworu

Accidentally set it in america dhjbfjke both of them are between 18 and 20, didn't really think of a precise age.

As for warnings, mentions of torture in regards to Kaworu's past, but nothing too graphic, I'm not going into detail.

In this au I came up with absolutely for like pure self indulgence, Kaworu is an alien who ran to Earth to take shelter from an invasion happening on his planet. They are humanoid aliens, with extremely high empathy and abilities to understand other living beings' emotions perfectly. They are a pacifist race, reason why they were so easily invaded, as their defenses were low. Kaworu's safety spaceship crashes on earth, getting the attention of the authorities and he's immediately brought into a government research lab. Kaji works as a guard there and can't stand the thought of a living, breathing being getting tortured and experimented on. Especially when it looks so much like a human. The research facility had never done experiments on living beings, they mostly focused on rocks, plants, other matter that seemed to come from outer space and that needed analysis.

Kaji decides to break Kaworu free, creating a foolproof plan beforehand, taking multiple weeks. He has the sympathy of other guards and workers from the facily, who too empathise with the alien, deeply upset at how he’s being treated. Kaji’s able to break Kaworu free, getting him into his car and then speeding away to the safety of his small house in a rural town in the middle of the countryside.

The first thing he does it patch Kaworu up: bandage his cuts from the vivisection, cover hos bruies from the blood withdrawals with cream. He becomes Kaworu’s surrogate father, constantly making sure to tend to his wounds while he’s recovering, the boy spending a few days of total moping around between Kaji’s guest bed and the couch because he is just so exhausted and in pain from the experiments. When Kaji is working he alternates naps to watching tv, curious about human entertainment. He loves animal documentaries or historical ones. Once a few days have passed and he seems to be doing better, as well as Kaji being sure no one is onto him, the man decides to take him for a small ride to his trusted farm where he gets fresh produce, wanting Kaworu to get some fresh air and having promised he’d let him see cows in real life.

Shinji finished Highschool and, unlike his parents had thought, he has no desire to go to university. The school years have exhausted him to the point that the thought of more studying makes him sick. So over the summer, while his parents travel around the country for their job as researchers, he started working at his aunt Misato’s farm, taking quite a liking to it. He likes staying with the animals, tending to the plants. It’s tiring, but he enjoys it and makes him feel alive. Kaji is a regular and always welcome at the farm.

Kaji prked his car near the cows before going to Misato to ask for what he needed. Shinji is the one who had to bring the produce to his car while Kaji and Misato chat. What Shinji didn’t expect to see was an albino boy looking at the cows with the eye sparkles a little kid would have. The boy is quite cheerful and friendly; he asks for Shinji’s name as well as the cows’. What unsettles Shinji the most is seeing all his bruises and bandages: around his hands, his arms, his neck even. When Kaji comes around he pats Kaworu on th3 shoulder, saying it’s his nephew visiting him. Shinji immediately thinks abuse is going on. He doesn’t want to make a scene, nor is he sure of his suspicions, so he keeps quiet and watches the two go away.

The following day Shinji decides to take his bike and go to Kaji's place, using excuse that he forgot a bag of apples and needs to deliver it to him to get the address out of Misato. He bikes to his house, walking quietly around it to peer inside and see if the albino boy is there.

"I didn't expect to see you around the house."

Shinji almost shits himself. The boy is behind him, calm as he can be, smiling at the brunette. Kaworu invites Shinji inside and an awkward conversation starts, Shinji worried sick and trying to understand if Kaji is the one at fault for Kaworu's wounds. Kaworu quickly picks up where Shinji is going and reassures him that no, it wasn't Kaji and he would never do anything like that to him. Shinji is relieved, but not completely, still anxious to understand who might have hurt the other boy that bad. Kaworu takes a while, his high empathy analyzing Shinji and his behaviours in an attempt to understand if he's completely safe as he seems or not. Eventually, Kaworu decides to tell him the truth, making Shinji promise to not tell anyone else.

Shinji ends up hanging out with Kaworu all day, now curious to understand the other, until Kaji comes home and chaos ensues. He’s mad at Kaworu for exposing them and possibly putting them at risk, but when Kaworu tells him his reasons and that he thought that maybe, having allies in the city would help them, Kaji calms down and realizes that having a bit of support might not hurt. He talks to Misato, explains the situation and she’s surprisingly very calm about it. She tells Kaji that, if he’s worried, he could leave Kaworu with them during the day as he works. The farm is in the countryside, it’s quite isolated and Kaworu would be safe there.

Until Kaworu’s wounds are fully healed, Misato only asks him to keep an eye on the cattle or feed the chickens, trying to keep his labour to a minimum to avoid opening up his wounds again. After that he helps shinji in the fields and doing other things that might be more tiring. The two grow a lot closer, goofing around on their spare time, Shinji sometimes taking Kaworu to arcades in the evening, having him wear a big goodie with the hood pulled up so that he won’t be easily spotted as an outsider.

Their peace is soon broken as Kaji starts suspecting that the facility might be onto them and he tries to find a solution. He can’t run away with Kaworu, he would immediately become suspicious and be tracked down. So Shinji offers to take Kaworu away. He has money put aside for what was supposed to be his university fund. He has a van his parents got him instead of a car because he wanted to be able to drive but also help Misato with deliveries and such. He and Kaworu quickly pack their things, leaving instructions to Misato as to what to say to his parents in case they call her and ask about him, instead of calling him directly, and then they run off, stopping in a city farther from their own to buy supplies to modify the van, turning it into a livable space.

They keep travelling, only stopping for very short periods of time and picking up short jobs like dog sittinng and lawn mowing to avoid spending all of the money saved (it’s quite a bit but they have no idea how long they’ll be on the run and want to avoid tricky situations). Kaworu gets to see the world, the beauty of nature and many different people and Shinji gets out of his comfort zone too.

They grow closer with each day, especially considering there is only one bed. But they soon don’t mind at all and all embarrassment is gone. Sometimes Shinji stays up longer, and stares at Kaworu’s scars, feeling a pit in hos stomach at the thought of what could have happened if Kaji hadn’t intervened. Kaworu, being a creature based on empathy, can feel Shinji’s emotions crystal clear even in his sleep and wraps his arms around Shinji in an attempt to soothe him. It works every time, with Shinji curling in closer to Kaworu and calming down, eventually falling asleep to the other’s heartbeat.

[heytherejulietx]

“G for George.” ~ George Weasley

Masterlists

Requests are OPEN

Notes - More George because I haven’t written enough of him!

Warnings - Near smut.

Word count - 1.4k.

By the time the fifth paper ball had been thrown at her head, Y/N was glaring at Fred across the table. He’d been trying to get her attention ever since she’d sat down. Of course, she would’ve thought that her ignoring him would’ve given him the hint that she wanted to just continue reading her book, but of course not.

“Throw another one of those and you don’t want to know where it’s going to end up.” She told him bluntly, earning a snort from George who was seated on her left side.

“Aw come on mate, that’s not very nice.” Fred shook his head, the smirk plastered over his lips not disappearing which lead her to believe he just really wanted to tell her what was on his mind.

“What do you want? I’m trying to study for a test.” She sighed, closing her book and looking back up at him.

“I just couldn’t help but notice that the jumper you’re wearing looks a little big for you, don’t you think?” Fred asked, eyeing the pretty huge forest green jumper that covered her smaller frame.

“So?” Y/N inquired, causing Fred to roll his eyes.

“So, it’s not yours, is it?” The ginger boy smirked, wiggling his eyebrows at her across the table.

Y/N just rolled her eyes, already opening her book to start reading it again. “What an absurd thought, Freddie. Can’t I just own a jumper that’s a little too big?”

“A little?” Fred barked out a laugh. “That’s huge! There’s no way it’s yours.” He shook his head. “So who’s the lucky bloke? Is it anyone we know?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow towards George.

“Come on, Y/N, spill the beans.” George egged on from her side, nudging her ribs gently with his elbow.

“Oh come on, guys, if I was seeing someone, you two would probably know.” She shook her head a little as she let her gaze drift back to the worn pages of her book.

Nobody saw George’s hand on her thigh squeeze it lightly under the table as Fred’s conversation drifted on to quidditch with Lee Jordan, paired with a small wink given to her once nobody else was looking. Y/N just playfully rolled her eyes, shifting over on the bench to be slightly closer to the boy as her attention was given to the book once more.

After that day, Fred clearly had his suspicions about Y/N seeing someone. Of course, she paid him no notice whenever he started going off on a tangent about who this mystery boy could be, when he didn’t really have any proof in the first place other than her wearing jumpers that were too big.

To be honest, she’d expected him to catch onto who it was a lot sooner. Considering it was his twin’s clothes he was stealing. But surprisingly, he didn’t.

They hadn’t even been trying to hide their relationship from him. George and Y/N had been so close for so long, the relationship was just kind of mutually decided by both of them one day and that was that. At first they’d been planning on telling Fred at some point, though after the whole thing with the jumper - it soon grew into a game of how long until Fred finds out?

As the winter months grew closer and closer, and the weather got colder and colder, more of George’s clothes started disappearing and ending up both on Y/N and in her dorm.

Though Fred was no closer to finding out about the both of them, until early one October morning when Y/N had walked into the Great Hall for breakfast, wearing a huge burgundy sweater that had a big golden G on the front.

All of the Weasley siblings could notice a jumper knitted by their mother from a mile off. So when Y/N had sat down Fred stared at her open-mouthed, his gaze darting between her and his twin.

“What?” He gasped. “There’s no bloody way! You and George? You and George?”

Y/N felt George’s hand take hers underneath the table as she rolled her eyes at Fred’s reaction. “Calm down before you burst a blood vessel, Freddie. What makes you think I’m dating George?”

“Uh, hello?” He waved his hands in a wild gesture towards her jumper. “G for George?”

“Who says the G stands for George? I might have stolen Ginny’s jumper.” Y/N shrugged, watching the smaller ginger girl a couple of seats away just giggle quietly as she shook her head.

“Oh come off of it, Gin’s even smaller than you. That’s George’s jumper - I was there when he got it!” Fred continued yelling, his hands still waving around in huge gestures which ended up in him accidentally hitting Ron in the side of the head. Twice.

Y/N merely shook her head, chuckling to herself as she started eating her breakfast.

Though George caught her after breakfast once everyone else was going to class. He checked nobody else was in the hallway before pressing her up against the wall, a smirk plastered over his lips as he let a hand rest either side of her head.

“You know,” he started, smirking down at her. “You’re not being very low-key wearing something so obvious.”

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes, leaning back against the wall behind her as she lifted her hands to rest on either side of his neck, having to lean up a little to be closer to him. “Never said I wanted to be low-key.” She teased back, before pressing her lips to his, feeling him chuckle into the kiss as his hands found her waist.

Of course, Fred kept at it for the next few weeks. He seemed to be even more persistent to actually get his hands on proof, to the point where they barely got any time alone. If Fred and George weren’t glued together before, they definitely were now.

Eventually, it got to the point where Y/N had convinced George to skip Herbology to spend some time alone with him. Her hand gripped his as she lead him into his common room, before up to his dorm.

“Skipping and sneaking into the wrong dorm? You’re such a rebel.” George teased, his hands making their way to her waist once she was stood in front of his bed.

“If you think that’s all I’m doing then you’re so wrong, Georgie.” Y/N matched his smirk with one of his own as she winked.

A chuckle passed the ginger boy’s lips as he leaned down to kiss her hungrily. Her hands gripped his hair whilst his made quick work of untucking her shirt and unbuttoning it. The fabric was quickly peeled from her body, both of them rushing to get each other undressed.

It didn’t take long before George was just in his trousers, and Y/N just her socks and underwear.

“Class ends soon, you best hurry up.” She breathed out into his mouth, George now stood between her legs as he leaned down to kiss the girl that was perched on the edge of his bed.

“You’re so good at dirty talk.” George teased, a breathy chuckle leaving him as his hands roamed the exposed skin.

Y/N felt his hand trail up her back, sending shivers in his wake as his fingers met the claps of her bra. Just as he was about to unclasp it, the dormitory door slammed open, followed by a shout of, “Oh Merlin my eyes!”

Y/N and George both flinched, turning to see Fred stood by the door. One hand was clamped over his eyes, the boy stepping backwards only to end up walking into the doorframe.

“Fred! Get out!” Y/N yelled, grabbing a blanket to cover herself as she watched him try to stumble out of the room again.

“I told you guys!” He yelled as he finally left the room, the both of them in the dormitory hearing his barking laughter following them.

Y/N heaved out a sigh as she laid back across George’s bed, still holding the blanket to her body. “I hate your brother.”

“Yeah well, at least now he knows he won’t try to sabotage our alone time anytime soon.” George sat on the bed beside her, his hand resting on her thigh as he rubbed the skin with his thumb, the action sending butterflies to her stomach.

“How long have we got until class ends?” George asked, watching as Y/N lifted her arm to look at the watch on her wrist.

“Fifteen minutes.” She told him, looking back up towards him.

“I think I can make fifteen minutes.” The boyish grin that she was so used to returned to his features, causing her to giggle as he covered her body with his once more as his lips met hers again.

[cherienymphe]

Too Good (Ransom Drysdale x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, CLASSISM, a surprise crossover

{IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU, PLEASE DNI}

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers}

summary:  you’ve worked for the Thrombeys for years and your professional, borderline detached, attitude has always led Ransom to take you as another low class citizen who hates the rich. A surprise run in at your engagement party proves that isn’t the case at all: it’s just his family you hate.

~

“You staying for the soiree tonight?”

You paused in your cleaning, glancing up at Meg as she pulled from her juul.

Winter break had been well under way for a few days now and the entire Thrombey family had been trickling into Harlan’s home one by one. The famous writer always welcomed his family during the holidays, and while you admired his generosity, you hated that it put you face to face with the rest of the snobbish bunch.

Walter Thrombey was spineless and his wife, Donna, wasn’t much better. His wife at least had the tendency to steer clear of drama while Walt, on the other hand, was always trying to tell Harlan how to run his business. These were things you could overlook if it weren’t for the fact that they’d managed to raise a Nazi in the making. Some of Donna’s comments during politics talk told you that this wasn’t exactly a case of a rebelling teenager.

Joni was harmless but annoying at best. It wasn’t surprising that she and Meg were the only ones you could tolerate. They were far less snobby than the rest, but there was still something about them that didn’t make you completely comfortable around them. Meg loved to refer to Marta, Harlan’s nurse, as family, but occasionally you found yourself wondering how sincere that really was. You often told Marta that she shouldn’t have told Meg the truth about her family, but Marta was a trusting girl.

Linda, Harlan’s daughter, walked around with far too much self-importance all because she considered herself to be self-made. You chose your words carefully because you were positive anyone could be as successful as she was if they too got a small loan of a million dollars from their father. Her husband, Richard, was a racist who would balk at such a label. He’s full of micro aggressions and sometimes just downright aggression. He loved the money that came with being married into the Thrombey family, and considering he’d signed a prenup, it was no secret that the man lived in fear of losing everything with one wrong move.

Perhaps you were a bit harsh in how you looked at Linda and Richard, but they gave you more than enough reasons to think negatively of them, and the biggest reason of all was due to drift in with the wind any moment now. Joni had reached some milestone in her business that was apparently quite a big deal, and so Harlan had offered to throw a celebration. You were invited, not as help, but as a guest. You were still undecided and that was what you told Meg.

She exhaled, the sickly-sweet scent filling your lungs as you slid the rag along the kitchen counter.

“Don’t tell me you’ve got a better night planned with that boyfriend of yours?”

You chuckled, throwing her a small smile.

“Maybe I do,” you coyly replied.

She took another drag before replying.

“To be honest, I wouldn’t blame you if you ditched us for a hot date. Ransom is gonna show within the next three hours or so, and you know he can barely stand the sight of you,” she said.

“The feeling is mutual,” you murmured, turning to face her as you finally finished.

She laughed, offering you the juul. With a sigh, you accepted it, figuring that you deserved it after your day. You’d been cleaning along with Fran nonstop all day in order to prepare for tonight.

“Why does he hate you so much anyway?” she wondered out loud.

You pressed the plastic to your lips and handed it back to her just before exhaling.

“Because I think he’s a piece of shit,” you answered.

She rolled her eyes with a crooked smile.

“We all do,” she deadpanned.

“Yeah, but…you’re family. It’s kind of expected…especially in your family. Besides, I disliked him the very moment I met him. I never even gave him the benefit of the doubt because I saw right through him, and he knows I see right through him.”

You gathered your cleaning supplies.

“To tell you the truth, I’m not sure why that gets underneath his skin so much. I know I can’t be the only person he’s met who feels the same way, but maybe it has something to do with his pride or whatever. Who knows? I should get ready to go, anyway.”

There was a smirk on Meg’s red lips.

“I knew you had a hot date.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I wouldn’t call it a hot date or anything, but spending time with my boyfriend does beat the alternative,” you told her.

She followed you out of the kitchen, pouting as you threw on your coat and grabbed your purse.

“You hardly talk about him that sometimes I forget you have a beau waiting at home for you when you leave here,” she complained.

“Meg, you know I like to keep my work life and personal life as separate as possible,” you reiterated, looking for your keys.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re so uptight about that,” she waved you off.

You threw her a look.

“You know how your family can be,” you told her matter-of-factly.

Meg playfully scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest as she followed you to the door.

“Are you ashamed of us?” she questioned as you walked out.

You stuck your head back in, hand on the doorframe as you smiled.

“Yes.”

She rolled her eyes.

“You’ll be back first thing tomorrow, right?”

“Of course,” you chirped. “I can’t leave Fran to clean up the mess that will no doubt be left in the morning.”

“Drive safe,” she called as you descended the steps.

You were nearing your car when the purr of another sounded from the long driveway. You paused as you realized just who was making their way in and you wasted no time in unlocking your car. His light-colored vintage one slid in beside yours, and you sank into your seat just as he hopped out.

You didn’t spare him a glance as you started your vehicle, but you could feel his cold blue gaze boring into you. Your suspicions were proven right when you went to close your door only to be thwarted. His large hands pressed down onto the top of your door, and when you looked up at him, there was a mocking smile on his pink lips.

“Y/N,” he greeted. “Leaving so soon?”

You couldn’t see his eyes for his dark shades, but you just knew they were mocking you too.

“Yes,” you tersely replied, pulling on your door.

You huffed when he, and your door by extension, didn’t budge.

“That’s a real shame. I was looking forward to seeing what you look like when you’re not on your hands and knees…scrubbing, that is.”

“I have a prior engagement,” was your simple answer, pulling on the door again.

“Ah. I think I did hear Meg mention a boyfriend once. Let me guess… You’ve got a homecooked meal waiting for you in whatever rundown apartment you live in? Maybe you’ve got a date planned. Feeding the homeless? Singing to less fortunate children?”

You clenched your jaw, just waiting for him to back away.

“That is more up your alley, right? You’ve got to do something to make up for hanging around us snobs all day lest we wear off on you.”

You stared through your windshield, looking away from him with so much dismissal you were sure you heard him growl at you.

“Are you finished?” you wondered.

He scoffed, staring at you for a moment longer before eventually backing away. You slammed your door shut and locked it without hesitation. With a sigh, you finally backed away, pushing all thoughts of Ransom Drysdale out of your mind as you drove home.

Soft music littered the air as well as the aroma of food as you stepped inside of your house. You dropped your purse and keys onto the table beside the door and peeled your coat off as confusion filled you. You didn’t recall having planned anything for the evening, but you shouldn’t have been too surprised. Your boyfriend was always going out of his way to treat you.

You looked around for him as you approached the kitchen, confusion growing when you saw no sign of him. You had just opened your mouth to call for him when familiar arms wrapped around you. You jumped a bit before relaxing into his embrace, a smile on your lips as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“Welcome home,” he purred.

“…and what a nice welcome it is. Is there some occasion that I missed?”

He inhaled, humming as he thought.

“Mm, no. None that I can think of. Can’t I spoil you? Especially after the day I’m sure you’ve had?”

At the mention of work, you groaned, and he chuckled.

“How was work, by the way?” he wondered, massaging your shoulders now as he walked you through the house.

“Tiresome,” you honestly replied. “They’re having some celebration of sorts tonight, so it was up to me and the other housekeeper to make sure the entire place was in tip top shape.”

He paused.

“You weren’t invited?” he asked, an iciness in his voice that was familiar to you whenever you talked about work.

“I was, but…”

You shook your head as you trailed off.

“You know that I don’t like to be around those people any longer than I need to be.”

You weren’t exaggerating when you told Meg that you liked for your work and personal life to be completely separate. The Thrombeys knew absolutely nothing about your personal life, including your boyfriend, and the reverse was the same. While your boyfriend knew that you worked for a rich family on the side to help with graduate school, he didn’t know what family it was, and that was how you liked it. Especially considering how tight knit elite circles were, there was always a chance he knew them.

“It’s almost over, hun. You’re almost done with your degree, and soon you won’t have to go back there ever again,” he murmured. “Of course, you wouldn’t be there in the first place if you’d just let me…”

You scoffed as he trailed off, and you turned around in his arms just as you two reached the stairs. You rested your hands on his shoulder, gazing into his blue eyes as he fought a smirk. You playfully narrowed your eyes at him before running a hand through his dark hair.

“Charles Blackwood… How many times do I have to say it?”

“Providing for you will hardly make a dent in my fortune, Y/N,” he sighed.

“I don’t care. There’s no reason you should pay for my tuition when I can do it myself. We barely compromised on me living here instead of my old apartment,” you grumbled, still miffed about it.

“It’s been what, 2 years since you moved in? Don’t tell me you’re still sour because I made more sense than you did during the argument,” he said with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes.

“That’s not important. You are not paying for my tuition. Like you said, I’m so close. I only have to put up with that family for a few more months and then…”

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his.

“I’m all yours,” you whispered.

“You’re all mine anyway,” he haughtily replied, deepening the kiss. “…after you get cleaned up.”

He gently pushed you away.

“I’ve run you a hot bath and its waiting for you,” he said.

You threw him a confused smile.

“Seriously, what’s the occasion?” you wondered.

“I’ll tell you later. Go on,” he urged, shooing you up the stairs.

With one last skeptical look thrown over your shoulder, you followed his demands. You didn’t think twice about getting undressed when you entered the lavish bathroom. Rose petals floated along the steaming water and the lighting was low, candles lit all over the room. You sank into the tub with a low moan, relieved to finally be off of your feet.

You did your best to enjoy the moment, doing everything you could to keep tomorrow off of your mind. Like Charles said, it was almost over. You only had a few months left, but you were sure that you’d murder Ransom before then. You scoffed at the thought of the dark-haired prick.

Hugh “Ransom” Drysdale was the embodiment of everything you hated. He was selfish, obnoxiously arrogant, spoiled, and there was a complete lack of reality that surrounded him that made your lips curl. Him being blissfully unaware of matters of the real world wasn’t the problem at hand. It was his contentment in his ignorance that was the problem, and Linda and Richard had raised him that way.

It was why you could never understand their displeasure with his attitude. Their annoyance and grievances with their son never failed to confuse you. Ransom was the way he was purely because of them. The spoiled brat did not raise himself. Forcing the blue-eyed devil out of your brain, you finished washing up. When you exited the bathroom, a gorgeous, and no doubt expensive, nightgown was waiting for you on your bed.

It kissed your feet as you descended the stairs, and you brushed your hands over the wine-colored garment as Charles faced you. He was placing your plates on the table when you entered the dining room, and his eyes lit up when he looked at you.

“You look a thousand times better now that you’re more relaxed,” he said, kissing your cheek as he pulled your chair out.

“I feel a thousand times better,” you agreed. “I really needed that. Thank you.”

Dinner was a talkative affair. You only discussed work for a short while longer before asking Charles about his day. He told you about some clients, one of them a bit of a pain, but nothing he wasn’t used to. You found yourself smiling at him as he droned on, just basking in the sound of his voice, and eventually, he stopped when he noticed.

“What’s the matter?”

You shook your head at him, finishing your wine.

“Nothing. I just…like hearing you talk,” you confessed.

He rolled his eyes and stood, approaching you.

“You’re so sappy,” he complained, leaning down to press his lips to your cheek, taking your empty glass.

“More wine?” he asked, grabbing the bottle.

“Please,” you said.

He placed the refilled glass before you, moving into the kitchen.

“Don’t tell me you have dessert planned too,” you called over your shoulder, bringing the glass to your lips.

With the day you had, you emptied it in no time. He didn’t respond and you were going to say something else, but your mind went blank when the light caught something at the bottom of the glass. Your mouth parted as you eyed it, blinking a few times, wondering if you were imagining things. Shakily, you stood up, turning to call for Charles when you nearly tripped over him.

He was kneeling…on one knee, blue eyes gazing up at you as you gaped at him. Startled, you dropped the glass, and before you could shout, he caught it, preventing a mess to clean. You fought to say something.

“Charles…”

“You’re mine just as I am yours, and I want to make it official…”

You softly exhaled as he continued.

“I know you hate it when I spend money on you,” he continued, pouring the ring into his hand. “…but it’s just how I know to show I care. I would buy you the stars…if I could…”

He held the ring up to you.

“I know you want to be a lawyer and rule the world, so let me rule it with you…”

He took your hand, pressing his lips to your fingers as he looked at you from beneath his lashes as your full name fell from his pink lips.

“…will you marry me?”

It was insane how quickly you answered, how smoothly the ‘yes’ fell from your tongue. Marriage had come up maybe once during the entire relationship, and it’d been so long ago that you’d forgotten how the conversation went.

Once the ring was on your finger, it took no time at all for him to sweep you up into his arms. It appears that you had spoken too soon, because there was indeed a mess to clean when Charles cleared the table in one sweep, depositing you on it before attacking you like a man starved.

You didn’t keep count of how many times he fucked you that night, on every surface he could possibly lay you on. He loved the feel of your hands pressing against him, the cool band of the ring pressing into his skin. You didn’t feel guilty at all for calling in the following morning, opting instead to spend the day in bed with your fiancé.

You walked out of Harlan’s office with a small smile. He’d taken your abrupt resignation better than you’d hoped, but then again, Harlan always had been a kind man. The months you’d originally had left had been shortened to a week. When asked why, you simply showed Harlan your ring, watching his crinkly eyes widen at the sheer size before a youthful laugh left his lips.

“Well, congratulations,” he’d said.

You’d thanked him, telling him that the next few months or so would be spent planning the wedding. Neither your or Charles wanted to waste any time. Harlan respected how private you were about your personal life, so he didn’t press for information, only saying that your fiancé was a lucky man.

Harlan’s voice carried, you’d always known that, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise to find Meg and Fran waiting outside of the door when you exited. Their eyes sparkled in anticipation, and with a playful sigh, you reluctantly lifted your left hand.

Embarrassment flooded you when they shouted, gasps and ooh’s and aah’s leaving their lips as they admired the ring. It started to attract the attention of the rest of the family, and you shrunk in on yourself. Meg suddenly took your hand, lips parted.

“Y/N, this…this cost a fortune,” she breathed.

You cringed.

“Please, please don’t tell me how much. I was kind of hoping that since it’s one of those big diamonds its really more show than what it’s worth,” you said.

“Not likely,” Meg scoffed, running her finger over it.

“You sure know how to pick them,” Fran said, lighthearted jealousy coating her tone.

“Oh my God,” Joni dragged out as she took your hand, mouth gaping as her eyes flickered between you and the ring. “This is from the new-.”

She cut herself off when Meg nudged her, signaling that you didn’t need to know.

“Please, I’d sleep much better at night if I didn’t know how much this cost. You can speculate amongst yourselves, but leave me out of it,” you laughed.

You ran into the rest of the family, sans Ransom, as you walked away. They immediately pulled you into hugs, congratulations on their lips. They all took turns admiring the ring and telling you how lucky you were. When you finally broke away, you got started on your job. You were much happier to do it now that you only had one more week left.

You were upstairs, cleaning a spare room when you finally ran into Ransom. You had turned to exit only to find him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. A light blue sweater adorned his frame, making the color of his eyes pop even more.

“Hugh,” you barely acknowledged, moving to get past him.

The asshole that he was, he pressed his hand to the other side of the frame, blocking you in as he smirked down at you. Before you could react, he was gripping your left hand in his own, holding it up to his face as he looked down his nose at your ring. He let out a low whistle.

“I suppose Meg wasn’t kidding. That’s an expensive piece you’ve got there,” he murmured.

You snatched your hand out of his when he brushed his thumb over your skin. You pursed your lips as you glared at him.

“Thank you,” you curtly replied.

When he didn’t move, you heaved a sigh. It seemed that he was determined to make your last week as miserable as possible.

“Judging by your taste in men, I do have to wonder how he can afford it,” he said, just shy of an accusation.

You scoffed.

“…and how would you know my taste in men? You don’t know anything about me,” you argued.

He smirked down at you, disdain in his eyes.

“I know that you wouldn’t be caught dead with…let’s say, a man like me. I’m simply curious is all. I would hate for you to find yourself in an embarrassing situation all because it turned out to be stolen,” he quietly replied, lips curling over his teeth. “…or fake.”

You clenched your jaw, tempted to slap him at his insinuation.

“You’re right. My fiancé isn’t a man like you, and that’s how I know it isn’t stolen…or fake, so you don’t have anything to worry about,” you snidely replied, shoving past him.

You could feel his eyes boring into your back as you descended the stairs.

“Sweetheart, you look amazing,” Charles purred, hand tightening along your waist as you adjusted your strap again.

“I just… I feel so out of place,” you murmured.

You and Charles had rented the most extravagant hall to host your engagement party. It was just a taste of the life you were marrying into, and you’d accepted that when you said yes, but it was going to take some getting used to. While you were familiar with some of Charles’ friends, it had never occurred to you that everyone who was anyone would also be invited. Wealthy business partners and elite families alike were in attendance, eager to see who the Charles Blackwood had popped the question to.

Your friends and family seemed to blend right in though, much more receptive to this lifestyle than you were. It was your own mother who’d picked your dress and shoes, and a close cousin who’d done your hair and makeup. You decided to entrust them with the task more often the minute you saw Charles’ face, eyes darkening as he took in the golden number you had on. It swished around your feet as you walked and tastefully clung to you in all of the right places.

“Relax,” he murmured, kissing your cheek.

You laid your hand on his as you did just that. The two of you stood on the spiral staircase near the entrance, greeting everyone as they came in. A greeting was already on your lips as the next set of guests entered, but your words died in your throat as you eyed them.

You turned your head away, back almost completely to the entrance as you looked down. Charles laid his hand on your shoulder.

“What is it?”

“Why are the Thrombeys here?” you wondered.

He frowned.

“They’re old friends of the family. We hardly speak, the last time being years ago, but I felt it polite to invite them, nonetheless. How do you…?”

He trailed off as your eyes met his, realization bleeding into them.

“Ah,” he quietly said, blinking. “I feel silly for not connecting the dots sooner…”

“Don’t,” you said, placing your hand on his chest. “I wanted to keep my personal life private from them and the same goes for my work life with you. You know how stressed I get talking about them and I just…”

“No, I get it,” he murmured. “Let me guess… The ‘asshole’ you often refer to is none other than Ransom. He hasn’t changed at all, I see…”

He nodded over your shoulder as he said this, and you nodded. His lips thinned into a line, but he simply pulled you closer as you turned back around. Your smile was strained as the familiar faces got closer.

“Y/N, you never told us that your fiancé was none other than Charles Blackwood himself,” Joni cried out, kissing each of your cheeks. “When we saw the names on the invites, well, I just said to myself there’s no way!”

You let out an awkward chuckle as Linda did the same.

“It never really came up, I suppose,” you lamely replied.

Meg pulled you into a hug, making you swear to tell her everything, and you could hear Richard and Walt congratulating Charles as Donna hesitantly hugged you as well. Ransom was quiet, and you found that odd. He never ran out of insults to hurl at you, but then again, you supposed he was saving face.

Walt and Richard extended their congrats to you again, and you swallowed when the questions started. How did you meet? How long have you been together? How did he propose? Deep down, you knew what they really wanted to know. How had you bagged him? What did he see in you? How did you even meet, what with your differing social circles and all? Charles was more than happy to answer all of them for you, sensing your discomfort, and you found your eyes connecting with a familiar blue pair.

Ransom was dressed as impeccably as everyone else, black suit adorning his fit frame as he gazed at you. Unable to hold his heavy stare, you glanced away, relief flowing through you when they finally departed to go partake in the festivities. Charles pressed his lips to the side of your head when they finally left, breathing you in.

“I won’t invite them to the wedding,” he offered.

You chuckled, shaking your head.

“No, it’s fine. It’d be odd not to, I suppose. Like you said, they’re old friends of the family, not just my employers…”

“Former employers,” he corrected with a smile.

You happily sighed, smile widening.

“Ah, yes. It feels good to be reminded of that,” you replied, squeezing his hand as he pulled you along.

Yesterday had been your last day which was why you were gutted to see them again…and so soon. Your farewells the previous day seemed silly now. Embarrassing even, since you’d been so sure that would be the last you’d see of them. Ransom had just made your last week so unbearable that you’d been overeager to leave the house.

Every sly comment he threw at you was meant to get under your skin, to make you uncomfortable. You suppose that had been his goal ever since you started working for his family. The dislike was mutual sure, but at least yours was valid. Ransom treated people he viewed as less than like garbage. He was a classist prick, and there was no doubt in your mind that his sour mood had everything to do with a low rate citizen like you joining his world, so to speak.

After having too much to drink, you slipped away from your fiancé with a kiss on his cheek.

“Where are you off to?” he wondered.

“I have to use the little girl’s room,” you whispered in his ear.

He chuckled, urging you along.

“I told you to slow down,” he whispered back with a smile. “Hurry back.”

“Will do,” you sang, leaving him with a peck on the lips.

The two bathrooms downstairs were all full, and considering how full your bladder was, you had no other choice but to climb the stairs to the second floor. You’d made a deal with the owners that all of the festivities would be held downstairs, upstairs off limits, but you were one of the renters and you had to pee. Badly.

The elaborate hallways were a bit confusing, but eventually you found a bathroom. You hurried as best as you could, not wanting to keep Charles waiting. You took longer than you intended to when washing your hands, distracted by your ring. It gleamed at you in the light, and you found yourself absentmindedly smiling at it, still in disbelief that you were getting married.

A yelp of fright escaped you when you finally opened the door, almost running into a chest. For a brief second, you thought that it was Charles, thinking that maybe he’d come after you, but the dark hair and blue eyes did not belong to him.

“What the hell, Hugh? You almost gave me a heart attack,” you complained, hand pressed to your chest.

“We wouldn’t want that, now would we?” he hummed.

You blinked, fully realizing that he was upstairs when he shouldn’t be.

“What are you doing up here?”

He didn’t answer you, instead stepping forward, causing you to stumble back as he entered the bathroom. Before you could say anything else, he slammed the door closed behind him, and your heart jumped in your chest. Alcohol may have been coursing through your system, jumbling your mind a bit, but you were coherent enough to understand that something wasn’t right. You looked him over, somewhat concerned, and noticed that his tie was missing.

“Hugh-.”

“You know, all this time, I just thought you were the typical jealous bitch,” he casually started, making your eyes widen as he glanced around with a sigh.

“Excuse me?”

“You looked at me like something you find on the bottom of your shoe the very moment you met me,” he quietly spat, eyes meeting yours. “What a shame I thought it was that you were another one of those ‘eat the rich’ types. I thought we could have had some fun together, but you wouldn’t look twice at me. Hell, you hardly looked once.”

“Are you drunk, right now? Is that what this is?”

He stepped closer, and you stepped closer to the sink, trying to get around him.

“You always have a grand time with Fran and Marta, giggling with them and any other staff member we temporarily hire, but you clam up the minute any of us comes near you. I always hated how obvious you were about it, how unashamed you were to broadcast your disgust with our lifestyle-.”

“I think you’re drunk,” you finally decided.

“Little did I know that it wasn’t the money that disgusted you. Otherwise, why on earth would you be getting married to Charles Blackwood, of all people?”

He said your fiancé’s name as if it were the vilest thing in the world, and you frowned at him. His expression was unreadable, and your frown deepened.

“Are you telling me you’re shocked that my hatred of your family has nothing to do with your wealth but instead, oh…I don’t know, your personalities?”

“As if Charles is just a beacon of generosity,” Ransom sneered.

You crossed your arms over your chest, glaring at him.

“Are you upset with me because I don’t like you? Is that it? I refuse to believe that because, believe it or not Hugh, a lot of people don’t like you,” you mockingly told him.

He leaned one hand on the sink, officially trapping you as he looked down his nose at you.

“That usually stems from some level of envy, but not you it seems. Why would you be envious? You’ve been dating Charles…Blackwood…”

He chuckled, but it lacked humor. His other hand gripped your left, and he sneered at your ring.

“It was easier to write your rejection off when I thought it was shallow and unfounded, you know. That isn’t the case though, is it? Hell, soon you’ll be richer than me,” he murmured.

“Are you jealous?” you chuckled. “Charles doesn’t exactly seem your type…”

“Didn’t think he was yours either,” he threw back.

You scoffed.

“I don’t care about the money. That’s not why I’m with him. If I wanted to bag any rich guy for tuition, I would’ve slept with your father a long time ago,” you told him.

His jaw ticked, and he backed you into the wall. Ransom was definitely drunk, that much was obvious, and you found yourself growing nervous the longer he stared at you.

“What does Charles Blackwood have that I don’t?” he slowly questioned.

The question confused you, throwing you off, and you huffed, looking away from him. He was so close, body heat mingling with yours, and you cringed when he rested his hands on the wall. Fed up with his games, you pushed against him.

“My fiancé is waiting for me,” you hissed.

He pushed back, pressing his chest against yours as he pinned you to the wall.

“You wouldn’t look twice at me, but you’ll marry Charles Blackwood?”

“He has class!”

He glared at you.

“…for one thing,” you continued. “…and unfortunately for you, that is something money can’t buy. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

He gripped your wrists when you tried to leave, and you winced.

“Let go of me, Hugh! Charles will start to look for me,” you warned him.

His lips curved upwards into a smirk.

“Then I guess I better be quick…”

You opened your mouth, but he swallowed whatever you were going to say with a kiss. You fought against him, but he wrapped his arms around you, pinning you against him as he moved his mouth against yours. You gasped for breath when he pulled away only to sharply inhale when he shoved his tie in your mouth.

Your screams were muffled as he spun you around, hand pressing into your back as he pushed you against the counter. The sound of his belt buckle caused your struggle to increase, and your fears were confirmed when you looked in the mirror. Tears skipped down your face when he pulled up your dress, and you reached back, but he simply grabbed your hand and pinned it to your back.

He was pressed so firmly against you that you could hardly move your legs. His chest was firm as it grazed your back, and your heart dropped to your stomach when you felt him reaching in between you, the head of his cock grazing you moments later.

You tried to call his name around the fabric in your mouth, to try and talk sense into him, but it was no use. His lips grazed your ear as he leaned over you.

“You think I’m not good enough for you?”

You pushed back against him, and he chuckled.

“You think you’re better than me? You think your fiancé is better than me?”

He thrust into you, and a choked yelp escaped around the tie. One hand clasped around the back of your neck, pressing your forehead against the mirror as he forced himself into you again and again.

“I can have any woman I want- I do have any woman I want. I’m not going to let you walk around thinking you’re the exception,” he purred, rutting into you.

Your core burned at the forced entry, his hardened member dragging against your walls. You stomped your foot, sobs escaping you now as he had his way with you. You squeezed your eyes shut when he would groan, his labored breathing coinciding with the rhythm of his hips connecting with your butt.

“You walk around that house like you’re better than us. Looking down on us like you’re too good. You’re not. No one’s too good for me,” he moaned. “Not even the future Mrs. Blackwood.”

Somewhere upstairs, you could hear your name being called. You knew it was Charles, and there was no telling how long it’d take for him to find you. You yourself had almost gotten lost looking for a bathroom. Ransom’s thrusts grew erratic, his harsh breaths in your ear.

“That sounds like your lovely fiancé… I wonder what he’d do if he walked in here? You think he’d still marry you? Hmm?”

His hand slid around to the front of your throat, cutting off your breathing.

“He’d probably throw you out of that big ole house…you’d have to come and work for us again…”

He pulled you away from the sink and pushed you up against the door. His hand that was on your back moved up to turn the light off, sliding into you with ease now. You reached up to claw at the hand around your throat, vision blurring. You moved to bang against the door, but his arm snaked around you, pinning yours to your side.

Your head lolled back to land on his shoulder, and he let out a low moan in your ear. You shook as he came inside of you, his thrusts slowing down, lazily sliding his cock in and out of you now. You heard Charles getting farther away, his voice distant now. Ransom gripped your chin, finally allowing you to breathe and forced your head towards him, tears in your eyes.

His blue eyes were cold, nostrils flaring as he glared at you.

“No one is too good for me,” he quietly told you. “Remember that when you walk down the aisle.”

~

tags: @darkficreposter @xoxabs88xox @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @readermia @opheliadawnwalker3 @notyourtypicalrose @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan​ @coconutqueen21​

[mintaka14]

See the Light

A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction

By Mintaka14

Chapter Three – Living in a Blur

  “No Rose or Juleka today?” Marinette asked as she stepped down into the galley of the Liberty with that effortless grace that Luka was coming to associate with the woman she’d become. She reached up to tuck back a lock of hair that had escaped from the braid over her shoulder, and Luka moved around the tiny kitchen, pulling out mugs, while the kettle whistled loudly in the background.

“No, they had a few things to organise today for the wedding. They said to say hi, though.” He didn’t mention the other things that Rose had had to say, or the broad, suggestive beams she given him before she dragged Juleka away on whatever mission she’d manufactured.

He handed Marinette the tea that he’d just made and shifted towards the couch in the living room, cradling his own coffee. Marinette sank into the armchair across from him. She blew on the mug and closed her eyes to inhale the steam.

“I still can’t quite believe that Juleka and Rose are getting married. It feels like only yesterday we were all in collège.” Marinette smiled, and sighed.

“They’re incredibly lucky to be getting MDC original wedding dresses. That’s one hell of a wedding present you’re giving them.”

“Juleka and Rose are covering the materials I’m just volunteering my time and a bit of sewing.”

Luka’s eyebrow rose sceptically. “One artist to another, I know it’s not ‘just’ anything, Marinette. Your time and skill is a very generous gift, and don’t forget, I’ve seen what you’re putting together for them. Jules and Rose can’t have been straightforward to design for.”

Marinette laughed. “But they’re giving me the chance to have fun,” she insisted. “I spend all day every day dealing with clients with no individuality or imagination, trying to convince them to trust me, so it’s a relief to get a chance to do something interesting for a change, with friends who are happy to indulge me.”

Luka leaned back, all plans to rehearse forgotten, as he watched Marinette talk about the inspiration behind the wedding dresses and the creative possibilities in dressing certain clients, her face lighting up and her hands gesturing animatedly as she grew more impassioned about her theories of clothing as a reflection of self. He followed the movement of her hands and lost himself in the endless blue of her eyes.

“I really need to ask Juleka if she’d be willing to model for me sometime. She’s always so compelling in whatever she wears, and so much fun to design for,” she said eventually. He found her eyeing him speculatively. “I’d love to have the chance to dress you one day.”

“You could at least buy me dinner first,” he said without thinking.

There was a heartbeat, then Marinette burst out laughing.

“Smooth line, Couffaine. Does that work on all the girls?”

“I wouldn’t know.” He decided to lean into it, and grinned at her. “I’ve only ever tried it on you. Is it working?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “How are you still single?” she asked.

“You’re a hard act to follow,” he said, and Marinette levelled a look at him.

“Luka, I was a fourteen year old clumsy mess who kept on flaking out on our dates. You can’t tell me I’m the gold standard of your relationships.”

Put like that, it was ridiculous, but it was true nonetheless. He’d had relationships, and they were sincere in the moment, but he’d drifted out of them as easily as he’d drifted into them, and they’d left him with little more than fond memories. None of them had left a mark like Marinette had. Over the years, he’d put it down to rose-coloured nostalgia, but then she’d walked into his life again, more Marinette than ever, and he’d fallen harder and faster than he had before.

He looked down at the mug of coffee in his hands.

“How about you? Anyone special in your life these days?” he asked the coffee with casual disinterest. She gave a soft snort.

“Hardly. It’s not like anything’s changed since we were going out.” She seemed to catch herself, and froze as Luka’s head came up to stare at her. “I just… mean, who’s got time for a relationship, right? Life’s too busy.”

“Not since we were going out?” Luka echoed her, frowning. “Marinette, you were fourteen. You haven’t dated anyone since then?”

She shrugged uncomfortably. “I dated. It just never lasts long. It’s not that big a deal. And besides,” she muttered, “I’ve learned my lesson, the universe doesn’t want me to have a relationship.”

She put her mug abruptly on the table and stood.

“Weren’t we supposed to be practising?”

Luka got to his feet and reached for his guitar. Clearly this was a line of conversation that Marinette did not want to go down with him, and he dropped the subject to run through the song with her a few times, correcting her gently when her voice faltered.

He had to wonder, though, what the hell was wrong with the men in Marinette’s life that had left her love life such a sore subject?

Luka stopped again to make a suggestion about phrasing and breath control.

“All that time, never even knowing just how blind I’ve been,” Marinette tried again, sounding more confident with the slightly awkward vocal skips this time, and Luka gave her a smile.

“See?” he told her. “Fashion designer to the stars, artist, and now singer. You can add that to your résumé.”

He’d finally coaxed a laugh out of her, and then Marinette’s handbag buzzed. Luka watched the smile drop off her face. Her eyes flicked to the door. “I’m really sorry, I have to go. I have… a thing…”

She was gone before he could say anything further. For a moment, Luka sat there with his guitar silent in his lap, frowning thoughtfully. Apparently she was right – not much had changed in the ten years since they’d been kids together. There were still the abrupt excuses, the silences, the sudden disappearances.

Luka plucked out Now she’s here, shining in the starlight, and he considered the empty space where she’d been. He was coming to suspect that whatever had been going on when they were kids, whatever she’d been keeping to herself when she broke it off with him, it was something bigger than he’d imagined.

At that moment, Luka’s own phone chimed with an akuma alert, and the timing of it was jarring. His hand dropped, as it always did, to touch his empty wrist. He looked down at it, his frown growing troubled as a new thought took hold.

He found himself thinking back over the timing of some of those disappearances, and odd excuses, and the times she’d had just a little more knowledge of Ladybug's movements than any random civilian ought to, but it had all sounded so plausible at the time. Seen through this new lens, those moments took on a new significance the more he turned them over in his mind.

Black pigtails, unmistakeable blue eyes. The same damn plain black earrings that Marinette, the consummate fashion designer, was still wearing ten years later.

How had he never put it together before?

Luka was still sitting there, his hands resting on his guitar and his gaze fixed on nothing, when Juleka and Rose came home.

“Where’s Marinette?” Rose asked in obvious disappointment when she took in the quiet room.

“She had to leave,” Luka replied absently.

“Luka! You just let her leave?”

Luka could see the tiny frown that he was feeling reflected in his sister’s face, although he wasn’t sure what had prompted it in Juleka’s case.

“I’m not going to badger her into staying if she needs to go, Rose,” he said mildly.

Rose threw up her hands. “And how is she supposed to know you want her to stay if you don’t tell her? I don’t get why you’re both fighting this so hard. She’s single, you’re single, but both of you are too chicken to make the first move.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Juleka interjected, shooting a dark look at her brother. “Because I remember weeks and weeks of Taylor fucking Swift, and I do not want to go through that again.”

“That was ten years ago! You cannot tell me that there’s not something there!” Rose whirled and stabbed a finger at Luka. “You can’t argue with the Sparkly Sense.”

Luka was only half paying attention to the argument, and responded vaguely, “Marinette has too much going on in her life right now to worry about a relationship with anyone.” Like saving the city, over and over and over again, holy shit, she was Ladybug.

Once seen, it was hard to understand how he could have missed it, and his mind briefly derailed to speculate that it must be some sort of kwami-induced magic that obscured her identity. Given how adamant Ladybug had been back in the day that the secret of the miraculous holders’ identities had to be preserved, and how hard she had worked since then to maintain that secrecy, Luka had a bad feeling about how things would go if he told her that he knew.

He was about to become another crack in her armour, another worry dumped on her already overloaded shoulders. Although, what did he really know, when all was said and done? He had his suspicions, nothing more.

“Hopeless, the both of you,” Rose complained, and glared at Juleka. “Don’t you want your brother to live happily ever after?”

“I don’t want to have to live through weeks of I Almost Do again, because my stupid brother hasn’t got the sense he was born with, and you’re just encouraging him.”

Rose stomped away, muttering things under her breath, but Juleka stayed silent after that. His guitar still in his hand, Luka got to his feet and headed for his bedroom before Rose could come back and start again. He had too much else on his mind to deal with Rose’s matchmaking.

Every time he thought Marinette couldn’t get any more extraordinary, she surprised him all over again, but the music he played softly in the solitude of his room that night ached with all the burdens he’d seen in her eyes.

Some time later, he heard a soft knock on his door and it opened quietly. When he looked up, Juleka was leaning there, her hand on the door handle and a look of equal parts irritation and uneasiness on her face.

“Luka –“

“I’m fine,” he cut her off before she could say what he knew she was going to say. “I know what I’m doing, and it’s all good.”

Juleka’s mouth pinched. “Do you, though? Because from where I’m standing, we’re heading for Taylor territory again.”

Luka didn’t answer, his focus on his hands and the fragments of melody that he’d come to think of as Marinette’s song. Eventually he heard a sigh, and Juleka said, “I love you, you dumbass.”

“I know,” he said quietly.

The door shut behind her, and he was left alone with his thoughts and Marinette’s secrets.

~~~~~

“You’re playing with fire,” warned the voice of responsibility in Marinette’s handbag, and Marinette sighed. She shifted the bulky dress bags in her hands so that she could see the little round face peering up at her.

“It’s just a dress fitting, Tikki. Can’t I even have friends anymore?”

“It’s Luka,” the tiny kwami said primly. “Things never stay just friends with Luka, and I saw the way you’ve been looking at him. Remember what happened the last time you told someone?”

“That was ten years ago, and Luka is not Alya. Don’t you think things have changed a bit since then?”

“It never ends well,” Tikki insisted, and Marinette felt the weight of Ladybug closing in on her all over again. She looked up at the Liberty as she drew closer, and had never felt less free in her life.

“Don’t worry, Luka’s not even going to be there,” she said wearily. “Juleka said he’s got something tonight, so it’ll just be her and Rose there. And anyway, there’s no chance he’d ever be interested in me like that again.” Because if there was a chance, then Marinette would have to walk away now before she could do any more damage, and she’d never get to see Luka again. She couldn’t do that. She just couldn’t.

“Luka was a wonderful holder for Sass,” Tikki conceded, “but he’s always been a little too perceptive for comfort. If he were to find out…”

“We’re here,” Marinette said, cutting off the rest of Tikki’s dire predictions. The kwami vanished into the depths of her handbag, and Marinette maneouvred the dress bags carefully as she climbed the gangplank onto the boat and called a greeting as she reached the empty deck.

In spite of her mood after Tikki’s lecture, she felt a tiny smile curl her lips as Rose’s answering shriek echoed up from below deck, and she followed the sound down into the depths of the boat.

“Marinette!” Rose scolded reproachfully as Marinette descended carefully into the galley with the two dress bags in her hand and moved through into the living room. “You didn’t even say goodbye last time! We got back and you were just gone.”

Marinette held the dresses clear as Rose engulfed her in a whirlwind hug, and turned to meet Juleka’s more sedate greeting. The dark-haired girl gave her a nod and a quirk of a smile that turned to a frown when Rose gave her girlfriend a smug look.

Rose turned towards the bedrooms, and bellowed, “Luka! Look who’s here!”

“What’s up?” she heard Luka’s voice, and felt her heart stutter. Oh, that wasn’t good. Luka swung around the edge of the door, leaning against the frame behind his sister as he directed a slow, sweet smile at Marinette.

“Hey, you,” he said, and Marinette couldn’t help but smile back at him. Juleka rolled her eyes and slugged her brother in the arm.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“Juleka!” Rose scolded.

“Weren’t you going out? Rose said you had a thing tonight,” Juleka said, and Luka frowned at her.

“Not for another hour. The band we were going to check out isn’t on til later.”

“Did I say eight?” Rose said innocently to the ceiling. “I meant nine. Oops.”

Marinette found herself standing there awkwardly holding the dress bags, her eyes shifting between the three of them.

“You don’t want to keep the guys waiting if you said you’d be there,” Juleka pushed.

“I only said I might,” Luka said, shooting his sister an annoyed look.

“Besides, he can catch them another time,” Rose insisted, staring at her girlfriend with a pointed message that Juleka ignored for once. “They won’t mind, and Marinette’s here now.”

Luka elbowed Juleka aside none too gently and came into the room. “I’m getting a coffee. Did you want anything, Mari?”

“I’d like a coffee,” Juleka said in a saccharine voice, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

“I didn’t ask you, monster child.”

“You don’t have to stay on my account,” Marinette told Luka. “I’m only here to do the final dress fitting.”

“Oh no!” Rose protested. “You have to stay for dinner. It’s the least we can do after everything you’ve done with the wedding dresses.”

“You haven’t even seen the finished thing yet,” Marinette pointed out, and felt a flush rising at the smile that Luka was giving her.

“We don’t need to see them to know they’re going to be incredible,” he said. “And it wasn’t important. I was only half thinking of going out anyway.”

The noise Juleka made was not polite, and Luka made a rude gesture back without looking at his sister.

“Well,” said Rose brightly. “How about we leave them to it? They’re going to be doing this for a while.”

In Juleka’s bedroom, Marinette didn’t have to ask Rose if she was happy with her wedding dress once she’d settled the clouds of soft pink organza around her and done up the miles of tiny buttons. Rose was making a noise like a tea kettle on the boil that rose to a squeal of happiness as she spun around in front of Juleka’s bedroom mirror. Handbeaded organza flowers spilled down in glittering trails across the skirts as she turned, and Rose raised a hand to touch the flowers that clustered all over her bodice.

“It’s perfect!” she breathed. She made a move as if she was going to throw her arms around Marinette, but Marinette fended her off with a laugh.

“Hug me when we get you out of the dress,” she smiled. “How does it feel? Nothing slipping, or too tight?”

“It’s perfect,” Rose repeated, her voice turning a little wobbly with emotion.

When Marinette finally got Rose to stop twirling around for long enough to take the gown off again, they headed back to the living room to find the Couffaine siblings glaring at each other. Luka looked away as they came in, his mouth pressed in a tight line, and Juleka spun on her heel, stalking towards the bedroom without a word, leaving Marinette to follow.

She carefully removed Juleka’s wedding dress from its hanger while her friend stripped down to her underwear and slipped her formal shoes on, and then Marinette started easing Juleka into the gown.

“Mari, what’s really going on with you and Luka?” Juleka asked, her voice a little muffled by the softly glittering black fabric over her head. Marinette slid the dress down and settled it into place. “I love you, but he’s my brother and I’m worried about him.”

“We’re just friends,” Marinette said, and suppressed a flinch at the words. Juleka rolled her eyes.

“You were never just friends even when you were just friends. And the last time I thought you were just friends it turned out you’d been dating my idiot brother. So excuse me if I’m not buying it.”

Marinette swallowed at that, stung but unable to argue the point.

“Believe me, Juleka, I’m well aware of how badly I fucked up back then, and the last thing I want to do is hurt Luka like that again,” she said, insistent in the face of Juleka’s scepticism.

“You won’t mean to, but Luka gets stupid when you’re involved.”

“That was ten years ago,” Marinette protested.

“That was two minutes ago.”

Juleka’s exasperated words provoked a cold wash of dismay. Juleka had to be mistaken. Luka was long over her, he had to be. Somewhere deep down, though, Marinette felt a tiny fireworks explosion of something that she didn’t dare acknowledge.

“The moment you turn up, he drops everything without a second thought,” Juleka muttered as Marinette eased the hidden zip up. Marinette stepped back, and Juleka turned to face the mirror.

“Wow. Damn, Marinette,” she breathed. She angled herself a little, her eyes still on her reflection in the mirror. “I take it all back. You’re welcome to wreck my dumbass brother, as long as I get to keep this dress.”

Marinette gave a tightlipped little smile, and went back to regarding the gown with a critical eye. There really didn’t seem to be much that needed adjusting. She repositioned the crystal chipped dragon brooch that coiled over Juleka’s hip, where it caught up the fall of the fabric, but it all seemed to be working.

She extracted Juleka from the gown again, and back in the living room Rose was sprawled on the couch, scrolling through something on her phone. Luka had his guitar in his hands again, strumming something with his coffee forgotten on the table beside him. He looked up as Marinette and Juleka came in.

“How’s the dress?” he asked.

“It’s stunning,” Juleka said, and heaved a put-upon sigh. “I can’t stop you from being stupid, but at least you have good taste.”

He gave her a suspicious look, his eyes shifting to Marinette when there was no further explanation forthcoming. “What was that all about?”

Marinette shrugged awkwardly, but fortunately he didn’t press her on it.

“So are we doing Thai or that new Indian place tonight? There’s nothing on the Akuma alert,” Rose said from the couch, “but there is a new theory about who Ladybug is on the conspiracy forums.”

“Aliens, or the Mayor’s secret revenge love child this time?” Juleka asked, dropping onto the couch beside her.

“I miss the Ladyblog,” Rose said, stretching her arms over her head. “Remember that time Alya thought that Chloe was Ladybug?”

Marinette remembered.

On the couch, Juleka laughed. “How is Alya,” she asked, and tilted her head to throw a look at Marinette. “Have you seen her lately?”

Alya again. The universe seemed determined to beat her over the head with her failures. She opened her eyes to find them all watching her, and she gave a strained and unconvincing smile.

“Not recently. I think she’s working in a travel agency now. It’s been a few years, though.”

Nearly six years, to be exact, since she’d last bumped into Alya.

“Jules,” Luka said casually, “how about you and Ro go pick up dinner? Mari and I really should work on the song for the wedding a bit more.”

It was a transparent excuse to shift the subject and give her a bit of space, and she was grateful for it, even if Rose did give Luka a very unsubtle wink that he pretended to not see. Rose and Juleka didn’t seem to have noticed anything odd, but Luka threw her a quick glance as he laughed at something Rose said, and reached out to toss his wallet at Juleka, who pulled a few euros from it and threw it back. Marinette managed to respond lightly enough to a question about her preferences, and by the time it was just her and Luka she’d pulled herself together again.

“I take it that things aren’t good with Alya,” he said gently.

She shrugged, and the smile she gave him was a little unsteady. “Our friendship didn’t end well. We don’t talk to each other anymore.”

It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it was as close as she could get without giving away too much. There was no way she could explain how her former best friend had looked straight through her as if she was a stranger the last time they’d run into each other, or the sickening wash of guilt, remorse, and self-loathing she still felt over the reason behind it, even after all these years.

“It was a long time ago,” she said as easily as she could manage, but Luka had always been able to read her better than that. His hand closed over hers briefly, reassuring and strong, and for a moment she let herself draw on his warmth.

“It still leaves a mark, though, doesn’t it?” he said.

She couldn’t help wondering a little bitterly how different things might have been if she’d told Luka everything, instead of Alya, back when she was fourteen. Would it have been Luka looking at her with that terrible emptiness?

Marinette broke eye contact and pulled her hand away to wrap it around her now-cold mug. She was aware that Luka was regarding her as if he saw a lot more than she was letting on, but he didn’t push for more. Instead, he got to his feet.

“I need another coffee,” he said, and gave her a questioning look. “Tea for you?”

She took the distraction, and followed him into the galley.

Luka kept to safe subjects after that, telling her about the group of students he’d been working with after school, and a gig that had gone disastrously wrong, until she couldn’t help but giggle when he described the drummer slowly sliding off his stool and passing out face down on his snare drum.

“It actually improved the quality of his playing,” Luka said wryly.

And he laughed when she countered with an account of Chloe Bourgeois commisioning her to design and make an outfit last season.

“I don’t think she’d even considered that MDC might stand for Marinette Dupain-Cheng until she turned up for the fitting,” Marinette grinned. “You should have seen the look on her face, though.”

“Ridiculous!” Luka scoffed in a passable immitation of the Mayor’s daughter, and waved his hand in the air as Marinette giggled at him. “Utterly ridiculous!”

“And of course, nothing was good enough. She couldn’t believe I was expecting her to pay full price for such shoddy workmanship. I should be paying her to wear my rags.”

“Tell me you told her where to shove it,” Luka said, and folded his arms on the benchtop, leaning forward in anticipation. Marinette’s smile grew broader.

“Oh, better than that. I told her if it wasn’t to her satisfaction she was welcome to leave the dress and I’d cancel her contract, and I’d even waive the cancellation fee because we’d known each other such a long time. I was very helpful. I told her I was sure I could find someone willing to buy it instead, and Clara Nightingale had already seen it and asked if it was for sale. Which was true,” she added as an afterthought.

“And?”

Marinette tilted her chin, her smile turning smug. “She took the dress, of course. And ordered another one under a fake name a month later.”

“Seriously?”

“B. Queen, to be delivered to the Grand Paris Hotel. With her exact measurements. Seriously.”

Luka tipped his head back and laughed hard, and Marinette lost herself in the sound. God, he was a beautiful man.

Next to the couch in the living room, her handbag shuffled in agitation, and Marinette ignored it, but her smile faded in response to the reminder.

“Marinette,” Luka said more seriously, and when she looked up his blue eyes had deepened into something that was a little hard to read. He frowned a little, as if he was trying to decide what he should say. “You don’t have to tell me anything, but I get the feeling that things haven’t been so easy for you. I know it’s been hard to let yourself get close to anyone.”

He was speaking slowly, measuring out each word carefully, and it felt like there was a whole lot he deliberately wasn’t saying.

“I just need you to know, the Liberty is always a safe place. We’re here for you. I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

It would be so easy, so very easy, to fall into those ocean deep eyes and fall into his arms, and tell him everything. That was what made Luka Couffaine so dangerous to be around. With ten years of Tikki’s constant litany of concealment and duty ringing in her ears, Marinette clamped her mouth shut on all her secrets even as a tiny voice in the back of her head pleaded but this is Luka.

“Weren’t we supposed to practise the song?” Marinette blurted out, and felt the heat of an embarrassed flush rise in her cheeks. She hadn’t felt this thrown in years.

Luka accepted the abrupt shift with nothing more than a nod and a soft smile, as if he’d expected it.

“Back to the Disney salt mines,” he said drily, and startled a laugh out of her. “Don’t tell Rose I said that. She’d have me tried for treason.”

“How did we get ourselves into this?” Marinette asked, and Luka chuckled.

“Well, Ro loves Disney, no surprise there, and Jules loves Ro.”

“And you love them both,” Marinette said softly.

“And you’d do anything for the people you care about, even agree to sing at their wedding if they asked you to,” Luka said just as gently, and they exchanged glances. “So here we are, knee deep in Disney magic. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to sit through Cinderella, both versions, and I can recite Tangled in my sleep.” His smile softened. “I’m developing a new appreciation for it, though.”

Marinette dropped her gaze, avoiding his eyes. He said in an easier manner, “I have to admit, there’s some great music. You should hear Rose belt out Let It Go sometime, and Jules did an incredible cover of Once Upon a Dream one Valentine’s Day for Rose.”

“What about you? Do you ever sing along?” she asked, trying to match his tone.

“What do you think? Music nerd here.”

He rapped out a solid, syncopated beat on the benchtop, and that husky voice of his sang, “Tatou o tagata folau...” She couldn’t help grinning, and he grinned back as he segued into a phrase from Circle of Life before riffing a bit of the simple bear necessities, and then finished on “You’re welcome, and thank you!” as she burst out laughing.

“Good music is good music,” he said with a shrug. “I get a lot of eyerolling from some of the kids when I start talking Disney in class, but it’s a starting point for a lot of discussion, and it turns out everyone always has their favourite song.”

“So what about you? What’s your favourite?” she asked, and he said easily, “Oh, there are a lot I could go with. It all depends on my mood.”

“Yes, but if you had to pick one?”

She wasn’t sure why she was pushing, and he hesitated for a long moment. Just when she thought he was going to brush it off, he reached for his guitar.

“It’s not strictly Disney, but ...” She didn’t recognise the soft, rippling intro that he played, and it wasn’t until he started singing that she worked out what it was.

He didn’t look at her as he sang about someday, out of the blue. It didn’t have to mean anything, it was just a song, he could have been thinking about anyone, but when he sang about still believing and still having faith in a voice that was far too heartfelt, Marinette felt her breath catch.

She couldn’t be doing this to him all over again.

~~~~~

He knew, the moment that his hands stilled on the guitar strings, that he’d gone too far and given away too much. The stricken look on Marinette’s face made that blatantly clear.

From the doorway, Rose breathed, “Oh Luka, that was lovely!”

Juleka dropped the bags of takeaway on the table and muttered something, while Luka watched Marinette and felt his heart sink like a stone.

“We so have to do a Road to El Dorado movie night tonight,” Rose was saying brightly. “You’re staying, aren’t you, Marinette? Otherwise Luka’s going to be the odd man out again.”

“I wish I could,” Marinette said. “I… I have to go. Sorry, Rose, maybe another time.” Her glance flickered in his direction. “Sorry. I’m really sorry I can’t stay for dinner after all.”

She scrambled her things together, dropping her handbag and coming up red-faced. This was more like the Marinette he remembered from their teenage years, and it brought up some difficult memories. She flashed an awkward smile in answer to Rose’s protests, and then she was gone.

“Well,” Rose said, staring at the empty doorway. “I guess Marinette’s still Marinette.”

“Rose!” Luka’s voice cracked like glass, and his future sister-in-law’s eyes widened at Luka’s uncharacteristically sharp tone. “Remember all those plans to get Marinette and Adrien together?” How well did those work out?”

“But this is different!” Rose protested.

“This is no different. No more plans. I’ve screwed things badly enough as it is.”

He drew in a deep breath and blew it out again, thinking of all those secrets that Marinette had to keep, and the distances that had grown in her life because of them. More quietly, he said, “Marinette could really use a few good friends in her life. I don’t want her to lose us again because we’re pushing for more than she can give.”

“I…” Rose looked away, biting her lip, and then met his eyes. “Yeah, I get it.”

Dinner was quieter than usual, and Luka ignored the perturbed glances his sister kept shooting him. He pushed the food around, barely tasting it, and put it aside when he couldn’t pretend he was actually eating it anymore.

Luka swung away from the table, his phone in his hand, and hesitated, then he texted Marinette before he could talk himself out of it.

+Sorry about that. Rose has promised to back off on the matchmaking – I think she’s just got wedding fever. Want to run through the song one more time before the wedding?+

It wasn’t Rose’s schemes, though. He knew that. Marinette was taking far too long for it to mean anything good, although he kept trying to tell himself that she might not be able to answer, she might be in the middle of something, she might have her phone off... Juleka muttered at him to stop fidgeting so much, god, you’re driving me crazy, before it finally chimed with a response.

+I think I know it now+ she sent back. +See you next week+

Luka stared numbly at the words on his screen. It was happening all over again, and this time he had no defences left. Juleka was watching him with a look of exasperated sympathy.

“You’re just as stupid as you ever were,” she told him, and Luka exhaled heavily. It was hard to argue with that.

[yelena-bellova]

Don’t Be Afraid: Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader - Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Six: Little Damerons

Series Masterlist

Plot: Poe and Y/n take a trip for Poe’s birthday.

Warnings: extreme fluff, so much fluff, chocolate dipped cotton candy with sprinkles kind of fluff

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Life has been kicking my ass these past few weeks so writing has been on the back burner. It’s still insane but I found time to finish this one. It felt like the series deserved a nice piece of fluff consider it’s so intense 😂 Please forgive any typos, I’m lazy and tired and my brain is basically mush right now...

————

The first sound I heard upon waking up made me smile before I’d even opened my eyes. Bee’s beeps and squeals were moving around the room at a frantic pace.

“Thank you, Bee,” I groaned, “I got it from here.”

As it was every morning, Poe’s arms were locked tightly around my waist. It was of great difficulty turning myself around so I could face him. He hadn’t moved a muscle through Bee’s wake-up call and didn’t show any sign of changing that. I rolled over onto his torso and finally got a groggy moan out of him.

“Good morning, birthday boy,” I greeted him in a singsong tone, propping my chin up on his chest.

Poe rubbed a hand over his face and opened his bleary eyes, focusing them on me. “What if the birthday boy wanted to sleep?”

“As willing as I am to grant any and all wishes today, that one is a no-go,” I replied sweetly, tapping him on the nose lightly, “We’ve gotta haul ass if we’re going to make the most of a rare day off.”

I began to roll towards the edge of the bed but was apprehended. Poe pulled me back into his arms and maneuvered me to straddle him in one smooth motion. His hands found their way up his shirt I was wearing and rubbed circles into my back, sending a shiver through my body.

“I’ve actually got other plans for our asses at the moment,” he said, his gruff morning voice and suggestively raised brow making it nearly impossible to deny him, “Ten minutes tops.”

“You and I both know neither of us does ‘ten minutes tops’, Dameron,” I said, trying my best to ignore his hands wandering south and failing as a soft moan escaped me. “But I did say I was granting wishes today.”

Poe lazily smiled up at me as I slid my hands up his smooth chest and lowered my lips to his. He took me by surprise and flipped me over so I was trapped underneath him, the two us laughing into the kisses that followed…

————

A significant amount of time more than ten minutes later, Poe and I were far from Ajan Kloss in the cockpit of his new X-Wing. Ever since we’d planned where to spend his birthday, I’d been dreading the destination we were fast approaching. But there was no chance of me ruining the day with ghosts from the past.

“Coming out of hyperspace,” Poe reported as he performed the action, bringing us face to face with the planet. A shiver of panic ran through me as my blood ran cold. The blue waters only reminded me of blue blades clashing in a fit of desperation and rage. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

“Yeah,” I said firmly, trying to feel as confidant as I sounded, “I’ll be fine, there’s no way I’d miss this.”

Poe hummed in disbelief but kept us on course, steering us towards a greener portion of the menacing planet. I tried to center myself, I wanted to be fully in the moment for the day. It was too important to Poe and I’d been looking forward to it ever since we’d started dating. Anxiety ran through me again as we flew above the greenery, memories of wandering aimlessly above trees flooding my mind. As we got closer to our destination though, my stress began to lessen as the excitement set in.

Eventually, we were landing in a large clearing of land near a small house. I was the first to pop out of the cockpit and make it down the ladder with Poe following close behind. Our feet had barely touched the ground before a figure emerged out the front door of the house and made a gentle sprint towards us. Poe left my side to jog over to meet him, the two of them embracing upon collision and laughing joyfully. I watched from a distance, beaming as I watched the reunion between father and son.

Poe kept an arm on Kes as he gestured for me to come join them, “Dad, this is Y/n.”

Kes Dameron was, I had a feeling, the spitting image of Poe in thirty years. They could have passed for brothers with a significant age difference. As soon as I made it over, I was pulled into a warm hug. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to finally meet you, Y/n,” he said over my shoulder, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“You as well,” I returned as we pulled back to get a look at each other, “Poe’s told me such wonderful things about you.”

“However many times he’s brought me up, I can promise you,” Kes said, his eyes flicking to his son briefly, “It’s nothing close to the number of times I’ve heard about the captivating Y/n Solo.”

I smirked and turned around to face a very pink cheeked Poe, “Captivating, huh?”

He stammered, “I mean, I may have used it once…”

Kes’ chest rumbled with laughter as he patted my back, “Come inside and I promise to embarrass him some more.”

He pulled me under one arm and his son under the other and we made our way into the Dameron homestead. It seemed that I stood to finally leave Yavin 4 with some pleasant memories…

————

We’d spent our day catching Kes up on our lives, it had been a while since Poe had last visited so there was a lot to fill him in on. The former comrade of my family gave me his sincerest condolences over the losses of Dad and Uncle Luke. It was so strange to think of my family and Poe’s having known each other, like there’d been a decades old string connecting the two of us together. Kes regaled us with stories from his days as a soldier and we told him a few of ours. I shared more than Poe, it was clear he didn’t want to worry his father too much with his particular brand of reckless. Kes eventually caught the lightsaber hooked to my belt and asked about my training. 

“Before you leave, you have to go out to the backyard,” he said, “Your uncle gifted us with a Force after the war, someone like you needs to experience it.”

Once the skies darkened and we sat around the dinner table, Kes made good on his promise to embarrass my loving boyfriend.

“So Shara and I come running into the backyard and there he is,” Kes slapped his son’s shoulder, “Cockpit closed, lifting the damn ship into the air!”

I had my napkin covering my mouth as I laughed uncontrollably, the image of Poe as a child giving his parents a heart attack was completely believable. “Had he ever been up before?”

“Only with Shara and she never let him touch the controls,” Kes replied with a laugh, “He’d watched her enough times to know how to get it off the ground.”

Poe was a sport about each story from his early years, defending himself occasionally, though very few of them left him with an opportunity to do so. He’d been just as much trouble as a kid as he was now.

“I wish I could say I’m surprised,” I chuckled, “My dad never let me touch a thing on the Falcon until I was thirteen. And I didn’t fly her on my own for much longer.”

“Keep up, Solo,” Poe teased from across the table, “Some of us are doers.”

I smiled and shook my head at him, “I think you broke enough rules for the both of us in your younger days.”

“You calling me old?” Poe asked with a palm thrown over his heart in mock pain.

“Are you calling thirty three young?” I quipped back, swirling my wine in its glass, “I saw a couple gray hairs the other morning I didn’t tell you about.”

Poe’s cocky expression faltered briefly as his eyes widened before returning to normal, “You’re lying.”

Kes and I caught each other’s eye and shared a sly smile, both choosing to take a sip of our alcohol and leave Poe in suspicion. His confident exterior was broken by the tentative hand that ran through his jet black curls.

I’d convinced the two Dameron men to let me clean up after dinner so that they could spend some uninterrupted time together. They didn’t get to talk as much as either of them wished, that was a reality of war. Some went months without speaking to their loved ones. I felt unbelievably lucky that my mother was only a few minutes away at any given time of the day.

As I’d finished, Kes and Poe entered the kitchen. Seeing them side by side, it truly was astonishing how similar they looked.

“I think I’m going to head to bed and let you two have some time to yourself,” Kes announced, patting Poe on the back before making his way over to me, “I’ll be up early tomorrow so I can see you off.”

He wrapped me in a fatherly hug and I sunk into it, I couldn’t remember someone as quick to welcome me into their life as Kes Dameron. In a single day he had practically initiated me into the family as one of his own. Though nothing could ever replace the holes left by the fathers I’d lost, it was comforting to be around a dad again.

We bid our goodnights and with Bee charging in our room, it was just Poe and I left. He slung an arm around my neck and I laced my fingers with his as we walked back to the living room.

“So have you had a good birthday?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

Poe laughed under his breath, “Are you kidding? This whole day has been perfect. And Dad loves you…”

“I love him,” I replied as we made our way to the sofa, “But I feel bad for him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Judging from his stories, the poor man has spent every day worrying about you since you were in diapers,” I answered as Poe fell back on the couch, keeping our hands locked.

“Every parent worries,” Poe stated plainly, “Are you saying you never worried Leia and your dad as a kid?”

“I didn’t pull half the shit that you did,” I chuckled, “I hope that particular Dameron gene doesn’t carry over to our kids.”

As soon as the words had left me, I wished I could have retracted them. Poe’s eyes eyebrows lifted in surprise as he gripped my hand. “Our whats?”

“Our…nothings,” I scrambled for a sufficient denial, “I said nothing.”

“No, you said-“

“No I didn’t,” I faked a yawn and attempted to pull my hand away, “It’s late and we have to leave early so we should get to bed.”

Poe tugged me by the hand so that I had no choice but to land next to him on the couch, “Oh no, I want to hear about these kids we’re having.” 

My cheeks felt red hot to the touch as I rubbed my free hand over them and groaned. While I’d thought of mine and Poe’s future in daydreams, we’d never actually talked about it. Why should we? We’d only been together for five months. Even if we’d practically been a couple before that, it felt like a conversation for further down the line.

“It’s nothing, really.”

Poe pulled me closer and wrapped an arm around me, I settled against his chest and prayed that he let the subject go. “Well, if it’s nothing then it shouldn’t be so hard to talk about.”

“I just think about what our lives might look like after the war sometimes,” I explained timidly, fiddling with a loose thread on the sweater I wore, “We could retire somewhere like here, build a house…”

“Sounds nice," Poe said, “We’re married in this scenario, right?”

I looked up at him and caught the mischievous gleam in his eye, “I don’t know, are we?”

Poe shut his eyes and nodded, “Oh, definitely.”

“Alright,” I smiled, trying to hide my glee at the thought, “We’re married, living in our house on a planet we’ll decide on later and the war is over.”

“Sounds perfect,” he replied, rubbing his thumb back and forth against my shoulder, “And our army of kids are wrecking all sorts of havoc in the backyard.”

My body shot up at his words and I stared down at him, “Who said anything about an army?”

“I think we should have at least ten,” Poe answered so straight faced that I couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not, “We could totally handle it.”

“Says the man who’s job in the child making process takes ten minutes. Who do you think’s giving birth to these ten children?” I shrieked, sending him clutching his chest and into a fit of laughter.

“Okay, fine,” he finally said after regaining his composure, “Ten’s not the magic number. But can we agree that it’s higher than two?”

I grabbed the two fingers he was holding up and settled back against his chest, “Agreed.”

“So we have an undetermined number of kids waving around lightsabers and trying to fly their old man’s X-Wing.”

“No,” I strongly objected, “No lightsabers or piloting till they’re old enough.”

“C’mon, we both know that at least one of them is going to be a Jedi considering your family. Might as well start them young.”

Of course there was no guarantee but it was safe to assume that yes, at least one of our kids would probably be Force sensitive. “Well, I hope at least one of them takes after you. I don’t think I could handle more than one little Padawan running around using the Force to throw things at their sibling’s heads.”

Poe snorted, “Knowing us, they’ll be a handful. But they’ll be great.”

“Damn right they will,” I agreed, rubbing a hand over Poe’s chest as I tried to conjure up an image of our children in my mind, “They’ll probably have your hair.”

“And your y/e/c eyes.”

“They’ll run their mouths like you.”

“But be the first to protect their family like you.”

“They’ll be reckless.”

“They’ll be stubborn,” Poe stated before inhaling deeply, “The galaxy better watch out, the Solo-Dameron-Organa-Kenobi kids will be unstoppable.”

“Okay, we’re definitely gonna have to drop a few names,” I made note of.

“I disagree, I think it conveys strength,” Poe objected, stroking a hand up and down my arm, “Hey, I’ve got a question.”

I hummed for him to continue, “How come you don’t add Kenobi to your name?”

We’d had so many conversations about my fateful visit to Ahch-To, but my family’s name was a sore spot that I hadn’t talked to him about yet. I had no way of finding out my father’s last name or if my grandmother had given my mother her last name of Kryze. Kenobi was the only name I could claim. “I thought about it but it’s not safe,” I answered quietly, “If it got out that I was the granddaughter of Obi-Wan, everyone in the galaxy would be after me even more than they already are. Believe me, I wish I could but it’s not realistic.” 


Poe squeezed me tighter on hearing my explanation, not saying a word because there was really nothing to say. Neither of us could change the fact that I was a wanted woman. Nevertheless, it killed a part of me to not be able to take pride in bearing both of my family’s names.

“So I’m guessing you’ve thought about our future too considering how many details you’ve been providing?” I asked in an attempt to lighten the mood of the conversation.

“Maybe once in a while…” he teased, “On long fights back to base or sometimes before falling asleep at night. It gives me something extra to fight for on the tough days.”

I traced the sharp outline of his jaw as I watched him speak. The thought of Poe flying his X-Wing with one of our kids on his lap or me teaching one of them how to levitate objects made my heart beat fast in excitement. But for every dream I had, there was an equal amount of doubt. I knew that the reality of our lives were that even after the war, we’d probably never have a peaceful existence. And if I shifted the focus to myself, I held my own fears about raising children.

“Sometimes I wonder if it’s even a good idea though…” I admitted, lowering my gaze, “I’ve never had any sense of normalcy in my life, I doubt I’d know how to provide it for our kids.”

“Normal is overrated, and are you kidding me? You’d be the best mom in the galaxy,” Poe said, pecking my hair softly before stroking his hand over it, “We’ll make all of it happen, might take a while but the Damerons will have their day.”

“The Damerons…” I repeated back to him, a smile spreading across my face, “I like that.”

We laid there in the quiet a while longer, soaking in the peaceful silence before our lives descended back into chaos. The one day leave for Poe’s birthday had been a gift to both of us, a 24 hour oasis in the midst of the raging storm we were caught in. We spent our days strategizing, fighting in the skies and undergoing intense training. But here we could just be…soft. We could be what we would’ve been had there been no war. I fell asleep that night on Poe’s chest, dreaming of a free galaxy and curly haired children chasing playing with BB-8 as Poe and I watched.

————

Kes hadn’t exaggerated, the Force tree my uncle had gifted him and Shara was extraordinary. I didn’t even have to try to feel connected to the Force, the second I’d stepped foot in the backyard it had overwhelmed me. There wasn’t enough time for me to properly meditate underneath it, but I still used the little time I had left to center myself. I could feel the Force flowing through every part of me, it was like nothing I’d ever experienced before.

“I’m glad you got to see it,” Kes’ voice called from behind me, “It’s something special.”

“Sure is,” I agreed, opening my eyes but still unable to turn away from it, “Is Poe done checking the ship?”

Kes came to stand next to me, admiring the tree too, “Almost, he sent me to come get you but you take all the time you want.”

“I wish I could,” I smiled sadly, finally turning to face the man, “But we can’t be late getting back to base. There’s so much going on, we’re lucky we got a full day off. Well, I don’t need to explain wartime to you…”

“Oh, I know exactly what you’re talking about. I saw my share of action during the Rebellion…” Kes paused, staring off into the distance as he relived a decades old memory. He snapped back after a few seconds, shaking his head and returning his gaze to me, “Well, I’m just glad I got to see the two of you for however long I could. I worry about both of you.”

“You worry about me?” I asked with a quirk of my lips.

Kes’ expression shifted further into its somberness, “Of course I do. I know how dangerous war is but I also know how dangerous it is to be in love during war. There wasn’t a day during the Rebellion where I wasn’t worried about losing Shara. I know both of you know that feeling well.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice at the moment. The thought of something happening to Poe was quick to make me emotional.


“I’ve lost the love of my life, the last thing I want is for either of you to have to go through that. The two of you…You’ve got something very few people are lucky enough to find. Something that deserves to live on long after this war is over.”

There didn’t seem to be a right thing to say in response. Poe and I’s worry for one another never waned, it was like a constant white noise in both our minds. There was no guarantee of seeing the next day during war. It was a reality we lived with every day whether tucked away in base or on mission off world. How many couples were casualties of war? Too many to count, my parents having been one of them. But the belief that Poe and I wouldn’t lose each other was something I clung to each day. The future we both fought for was one where we didn’t have to worry about losing one another.

“It’s a constant fear, losing him,” I mused as I stared out at the clear sky, watching the rising sun, “But I don’t regret being with him, not for a second. He’s worth all of it.”

“I know he feels the same way,” Kes smiled softly and patted my arm, “From what Poe has told me, you’ve pulled your share of stunts.”

I swiveled back to face Kes and raised a finger, “If he’s talking about what happened above Batuu, I’d like to play up the fact that I took out eight TIE’s singlehandedly.”

The former rebel soldier cocked an eyebrow, “Impressive, but no…He told me about Crait.”

“Crait…” I sighed, finding the ground much more interesting to look at.

“Even before he told me I’d heard about it. You were the talk of the city and I imagine everywhere else.”

“Yeah, apparently news travels fast…”

Crait seemed like a lifetime ago. It was no longer the actual fight between Ren and I that bothered me, though I’d admit to still questioning why he hadn’t killed me occasionally. It was the legend status I’d achieved without trying to. The over exaggerated tale of my heroics had spread across the galaxy quicker than I knew what to do with. Not only was I one of, if not the, most wanted woman in the galaxy but even the Resistance had begun treating me differently. Seemingly everyone except my mother and friends treated me as if I was some deity. I was glad no one else knew about my being a Kenobi or the attention would become too much to handle.

“I hope you’ll see that more as a symbol of what I’m willing to do for the cause rather than my personality. What I’m willing to do to protect the people I love,” I said, staring at him with all the conviction in the world, “That includes Poe.”

“I know, and that dedication is what makes the Resistance, and Poe, lucky to have someone like you.”

I could hear Bee’s squeals, only making out my name and knowing that we needed to head out. Kes and I turned to each other regretfully before he put an arm around my shoulders and we began to make our way out of the backyard. I turned my head to get one more look at the Force tree and silently promised myself that the next time I came, I’d spend a proper amount of time underneath it.

Poe was beginning to load Bee into the X-Wing when Kes and I rounded the corner of the house. Even though we were headed back to base where as soon as we landed we’d be thrown back into our responsibilities, he still looked relaxed. He hadn’t put on his commander’s hat yet and was simply Poe Dameron at home with the people he loved. He reminded me of the day I’d gotten back from my last stay with Dad, when we’d flown back from the transport station. We’d both been so carefree and at ease and I’d wished then what I was wishing now…for the war to be over.

“Any more Poe stories you want to send me off with?” I jokingly asked Kes, we were still far enough away that Poe wouldn’t hear me.

“There was one I wanted you to hear, he’d never forgive me if I told him but…” Kes chuckled and waved his hand dismissively, bringing our walk to a halt. “It was the day he arrived at the Resistance base. We’d talked after Leia recruited him about how excited he was about having command of his own fighting wing, meeting the other pilots…Pretty much everything he spoke about had something to do with an X-Wing. That night he called me and you could’ve paid him any amount of credits to talk about anything flying related and he wouldn’t have cared. The first thing he said to me after ‘Yeah, everything’s fine’ was ‘I’m pretty sure I met my future wife today.’ And for the rest of the call, not one mention of any ship. Just about this girl who had shown him around base and ate dinner with him and who he tried to be extra funny around just to make her smile. I made sure to make note of what he was saying so once I finally got to meet this Y/n he spoke so highly of, I could tell her that there hasn’t been one day that boy’s known you where he hasn’t been in love with you.”

My grin was practically idiotic by the time he’d finished telling his story. Poe had only mentioned that he’d fallen for me the first day we’d met and he’d never mentioned anything about telling Kes about me. I gazed over at Poe, standing atop the ladder next to his ship and my heart swelled. Just as it did when he returned home from a mission and we’d embrace outside of his ship. Or when we’d climb into bed together at the end of a long day and his arms would instinctively wrap around me. Or when I’d work late nights in the command center and he’d send Bee in with a sweet note stuck to the droid’s body. I didn’t think it was possible to fall any more in love with him, but every day he showed me it was. He spotted us and waved me and his dad over. After a tearful goodbye with Kes, Poe and I were on our way back to base.

When we were in hyperspace, I tilted my head to press a kiss to the side of Poe’s mouth. He smiled at me, “What was that for?”

“I just love you,” I shrugged.

“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing I love you too,” he replied, taking my chin between two of his fingers and locking our lips together.

————

A/N: I’ve been getting notifications every few days that people have been liking chapters which causes me to skim over some of them. I really can’t believe I started this series back in May as a way of coping with quarantine boredom and here we are six months later and I can see the end in the distance. I’m so glad that you guys enjoy it and it can distract you from the nightmare that is this year for just a few minutes. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this one! Happy Thanksgiving to my American readers!! 🦃🦃🦃

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[smol-and-grumpy]

Confidentiality - Chapter 2: The Meeting

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: Four months. Four long months that she’s been hiding in lockdown. So when everything starts to go back to normal again, she’s going back to work as Jensen’s handler for the first Supernatural convention after the pandemic.

Chapter Warnings: A little jealous Jensen, flangst when you squint

WC: 1644

Beta’d by: @dean-winchesters-bacon​​​​ <3

THIS SERIES IS COMPLETE ON PATREON

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

On Saturday, Y/N’s waiting at the arrivals with the driver. It’s not usually their job to pick up talents from the airport but during dinner last night her boss received a call and disappeared for a few minutes. 

It was only this morning that she received a message from her boss that she should please go with the driver to pick up Jensen at the airport. 

She has a strong feeling that Jensen’s had something to do with it but her messages and calls that she made to him today went unanswered. 

He knows exactly why he didn’t pick up the phone and it drives her fucking nuts!

Standing there, with her arms crossed over her chest, she chews on her gum irritatedly. 

It’s about five minutes of waiting in awkward silence until Jensen walks out, rolling his little suitcase behind him. Wearing simple jeans and a hoodie, he hides his hair behind a baseball cap but she can see that he hadn’t cut it, nor had he shaved his beard. She’d like to think it’s because she said that she shouldn’t get rid of it just yet. Her heart does that weird little thing, tripping and all, but she’s keeping her emotions in check. She’s still annoyed and she should remember that. 

“Hey!” He greets both of them with the brightest smile.

If he noticed that she’s annoyed, he did his best to ignore it because he smiles down at her, “Y/N, nice seeing you again,” and pulls her into a friendly hug. He smells so good, it’s not fair to her because she’s upset at him and should not let him entice her.

Jensen moves away from her but lets his hand linger at her lower back for a fraction too long before greeting the driver. It’s invisible for the outside eyes but she knows.

The driver leads the way to the limousine and the two of them trail behind. 

“You did this, didn’t you?” she mumbles.

“Did what?” he too, keeps his voice low.

“Made me come pick you up.”

“Is that a crime?” he asks while he cocks an eyebrow.

“No, but it’s not my job! Don’t you think it’ll raise suspicion?”

“Relax, babe, nothing’s going to happen this weekend, okay? I can be professional, can you?” 

They stop at the limousine as the driver loads Jensen’s suitcase into the trunk and walks to the front to start the motor.

Jensen bends down then when there are no eyes on them, kisses her quick but rough, teeth biting into her bottom lip, making her squeal out in delight. Before she can even get worried that she’s being too loud, he is kissing her again, swallowing the sounds she makes. 

When he parts, he smiles down at her, it’s super cocky, “Can you, huh?”

“Is that a challenge?” she asks, not quite trusting him.

“It can be,” he shrugs.

“No funny business while we work together, Jensen.”

“None.”

“I think I’ll win,” she grins.

“Oh, we’ll see,” he pecks her lips once more before walking to the front, “Come on, it’s not nice to let the driver wait.”

*

They drop him off at the hotel and Jensen’s really surprised that she said that she’s not going to stay. She’s booked into another hotel, closer to the convention center.

“Why?” he asks as she walks to the reception with him. 

“I’m working, Jensen, being professional, remember?” 

There’s a sigh with an eyeroll and she chuckles.

They checked him in and she walks him to the elevator while she tells him about his schedule for tomorrow, “The driver will pick you and Jared up at 8 AM, be ready, okay?”

“What’s the first thing?”

“Your gold panel, as usual,” she says with a shrug, “Any other questions?”

“Yeah,” he says and bends down, nose brushing against the shell of her ear, “What should I do with my hard cock?”

She grins as he stands up again, and he presses his lips into a thin line, smirking a little. Still grinning, she stands up on her tiptoes to whisper into his ear, “You have a hand and I’m sure the hotel provides those tiny fancy moisturizers.”

Standing back on her heels, she looks up at him and winks while he frowns.

“Good night, Jensen,”  Y/N turns around to leave and waves at him one last time, sees him shaking his head and chuckling to himself.

*

Back in her hotel, she makes herself bed ready, and has taken a rain check on the team’s night out because she hates to be hungover the next morning when she has to work. The farewell drinks set for Sunday Night, she can do and will do.

Once settled in bed, there’s already a text on her phone. 

 J: Going out with Jared, maybe I’ll find another girl to help me out with the hard thing in my pants

Y/N: Good luck, don’t drink too much.

J: There’s no one stopping me? And no comment on the girl?

Y/N: You’re working from 8 AM - 9 PM, that should be enough reason. And it’s not like we’re exclusive. You’re allowed to do whatever you want. And who knows, maybe I have someone in my bed right now?

 That’s true. They’re not anything, to be honest. Just two people who enjoy each other’s company. She never went into this wanting more, because she knows that it is probably not going to happen, so she’s trying not to let her feelings interfere with what they have. Even though living with Jensen was hard for her feelings. She got to know him better, got to know his little quirks. Even though they annoy her sometimes, she thinks that she would be able to make it work because she’s able to look past them, work her way around things that exasperate her the most about him. In any case, it’s totally unfair that there isn’t really much to be bothered about. She bets she has more things that annoy him but he doesn’t seem to mind them either.

 J: Do you?

Y/N: Good night, Jensen.

J: Do I have to come over?

Y/N: No, go out with Jared.

J: I can’t if I don’t know who’s with you.

 Her heart’s picking up speed. Jensen’s jealous. That’s a first. Well, he never had to worry about it since he was the only man around her for four fucking months! She kind of likes it, can’t lie about that.

 Y/N: Listen, I’m going to set my phone aside. Good night.

 Y/N hates hotel beds, it’s really not the same like sleeping at home and she tosses and turns. It was the same last night, too. But maybe, she thinks, maybe it’s because she’s alone. She was holed up with Jensen for almost four months, shared a bed with him, with his warm body next to hers. Maybe she just misses the closeness. She wonders how it’ll be once they go back to normal, wonders how her nights will turn out once she gets back to her own apartment, and sleeps in her own bed. Alone. Because that’s what’s going to happen eventually. As she said, they aren’t anything and they won’t be.

Finally, after about twenty minutes of tossing and turning, she eventually finds a comfortable position to be in and is slowly drifting off to sleep when there’s a sharp knock at her door. 

Her head shoots up and she frowns, “Who is it?”

“Room service!” the man on the other side calls out.

It’s ridiculous really, to be yelling room service when she knows exactly who it is. She’d recognize the voice anywhere. 

She gets up and walks over to the door, opens it up with annoyance, but only enough to let her head peek through, “You should not be here.”

Jensen’s eyes widen, “Wow, I’m happy to see you too.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “Go, I want to sleep.”

“I just want to say good night.”

“Sure,” she chuckles, “You wanted to check if I’m spending a night with some other dude.”

“No?” He frowns and she looks at him with that cocked eyebrow. Looks at him so long until he caves, “Fine! Yeah, I wanted to see.”

“There’s nobody here.” she whispers, because she remembered that they have to be quiet.

“Yeah, no, open the door,” Jensen asks firmly. That’s one of his little quirks, he’s thorough. 

Reluctantly, she opens the door wider and her bed comes into view, “Are you happy now?” 

He takes a step in further, walks to the bathroom, and she has to roll her eyes so hard, her head hurts.

“Do you really think I’m hiding someone in my bathroom?” she hisses out from the doorway. 

Jensen comes out, and walks back to the door, “I like to be thorough,” he shrugs, as if that explains it all. His hand comes up to brush the knuckles against her face, fingertips trailing along her throat down to the collar of her shirt, “That’s my shirt,” he chuckles and hooks one finger into the collar, tugging it, “I was wondering where it went.”

“Yeah, it somehow landed in my suitcase,” she says, hoping that he doesn’t see the color rising up to her cheeks. It’s not even a lie, she slept in it the night before she left, so she just kind of packed it without even thinking.

“Good night, Y/N,” Jensen bends down, kisses her cheek, his beard prickles against her skin.

And it’s crazy how a cheek kiss can affect her. She’s getting all warm and fuzzy. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she swallows hard as he parts, and it takes everything in her not to fling herself at him. 

Jensen nods before he walks along the corridor to the elevator, winks at her one last time.

Chapter 3

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

[elendiliel]

A Life Laid Down

As semi-promised, this is the follow-up to Counter-Conspiracy. This AU is getting out of control...

---

Are you sure you’re all right with this, vod’ika?, Hel sent to Fives. He knew why she was concerned for him. They had weathered dozens of storms together, but never one quite like this.

As close as I can get, he sent back. There was never any point in lying to her, even aloud, let alone telepathically. And the longer we wait, the more chance he has to make the first move.

Hel conceded that. Their opponent was perhaps the most cunning person they had ever encountered, and possibly the most dangerous. At least they weren’t alone. They were part of a delegation that also included Jedi Masters Windu, Fisto, Tiin and Kolar, all formidable fighters and Force users. All the same, Fives would have preferred Hel to be right by his side, not trailing behind, wearing the too-neutral bearing and expression he had first seen in the aftermath of their first mission together, and later after the Citadel. She was pretending to grieve – for him.

Fives was grateful for his new, unpainted bucket and shell as they passed through Commander Fox’s office. And for the fact that he didn’t have to fake the upright posture of a shiny fresh from Kamino – his chest still ached where he’d been shot, technically by Fox (although he knew who had guided his brother’s hand, and put the blame firmly where it belonged), and he was still a bit stiff from spending too long in that bacta tank. Full recovery would take a while longer, but it would happen – eventually. If I survive this mission.

Fox buzzed them through to the Chancellor’s office once he’d checked that they did indeed have an appointment (he’s made a vod his secretary? That’s just wrong). The man himself swept forward to greet them, all deceptive charm. “Gentlemen, my dear,” Fives could picture Hel’s fingers tightening on her arm behind her back; she hated being patronised, “what can I do for you?”

“We were hoping you could clear a few things up for us.” Windu’s calm delivery was a perfect example of control as he laid out all the tiny scraps of evidence that had been gathered since Fives’ first meeting with the Jedi Council. Every little discrepancy, every unexplained trip off-world, every unusual transmission. Alone, they wouldn’t arouse suspicion, but taken together…

Fives had had the biggest shock of his life when he’d woken up in the Temple med-bay after being shot. He’d known that that wound had been fatal; he’d been ready to die, to be with his batchers, Hardcase and Tup again. To be free at last. But General Skywalker had had other ideas, apparently, as Hel had quickly explained. (The two Jedi had taken it in turns to watch over him; Rex, Torrent and Spark would, ironically, have been more easily missed.) The General had kept him alive long enough to get him to proper healers, who, as well as fixing the damage to his chest, had found and investigated Rex’s inhibitor chip by careful comparison of the two men’s brain scans, confirming that it wasn’t just there to curb the clones’ aggressive tendencies, as the Kaminoans claimed. They had even found traces of the drugs Doctor Se had given Fives in a routine blood test, and deduced the time-frame of their administration from a second sample taken an hour later. (Fives didn’t quite follow all the technicalities, though Kix would have gone into minute detail given half a chance.) The drugs – some of them only available on Kamino – had merely altered his ability to communicate, not his overall cognitive abilities. In other words, he hadn’t been delusional. Only incoherent.

That had helped to convince the Jedi Council of Palpatine’s treachery once Fives was strong enough to talk to them, as had Hel pulling some strings and bringing in a Bene Gesserit truthsayer, one who could distinguish the genuine truth from honest mistakes. It all made so much sense in hindsight. Why else would the Separatists be trying to claim so much territory, rather than simply seceding from the Republic? How else could they know so much? And what better way to blind the Jedi than to convince them that becoming military officers – the opposite of what they should be – was their least bad option? (That had backfired, at least. Fives didn’t know a single clone who wasn’t grateful for the Jedi’s leadership, their compassion, their insistence on treating their subordinates with respect, encouraging their creativity and individuality. Would he have discovered the conspiracy, or managed to escape and warn his superiors, had he had a non-Jedi commander?)

Carefully, very carefully, the Council and selected other Jedi and clones had gathered evidence against the Chancellor that didn’t rely on Fives’ testimony. Information from Hel’s old friend Madam Jocasta in the Jedi Archives, from Jedi investigators, from databases sliced into by Spark – even from the General’s friends in the Senate (well, one friend in particular, and her network of friends and allies) – it was enough to justify this official meeting. Just to clarify certain matters…

Fives had heard of General Windu’s incredible combat skills, but here he was giving a masterclass in the use of a Jedi’s primary weapon – words. Every point he raised was carefully phrased, never an accusation, but giving Palpatine barely enough room to explain himself without self-incrimination. And this was Windu holding back, Fives was sure. Had he wanted to trap Palpatine, he could have done so easily. As it was, the Chancellor wriggled out of everything, the faint air of smugness Fives could just sense around him growing stronger with every evasion, every believable lie. As intended.

“Is that all, Master Windu?,” Palpatine asked at last, when the Jedi Master seemed to have run out of things to say.

“Not quite. But the last question should really be asked by someone else.” Windu gestured for Fives to come forward, startling the Chancellor, who probably hadn’t even noticed him before. Fives took a mental deep breath, grateful for Hel’s strengthening presence, and removed his helmet, tilting his head to make sure Palpatine saw his tattoo. He would forever treasure the moment of open shock displayed on the aruetii’s face, his wide eyes and sharp gasp. “You.”

“Me,” Fives confirmed. “We clones aren’t as easy to kill as you think. And I’ve told the Council everything you told me. You said nobody would believe me, but they did. Can you explain what you said, or what I’m sure you did to my brothers and had done to me – sir?”

“Of course I can.” The mask was just starting to slip, Fives thought. But he wasn’t prepared for what happened next, not least because it happened so fast. One moment Palpatine’s hands were moving casually towards his hips; the next, a desperate cry of “No!” split the still air, and the sound and scent of a lightsabre piercing flesh transported Fives back to the darkness and horror of Umbara. But the victim this time wasn’t a brother; it was a sister, and the sabre transfixing Hel’s chest was red, not blue or green. Palpatine was more than a simple traitor, then.

For the second time in as many minutes, the Chancellor failed to hide his surprise when he withdrew the blade and Hel somehow stayed on her feet. (So did General Fisto, clearly the intended target; Hel had shoved him out of the way just in time.) “Missed my heart… darjetii.” Her voice was rough, pained, but she had enough strength and speed left to wrench the Sith’s lightsabre from him before even he could react. The casing shattered in her powerful hands as she earthed a sudden surge of fury before it could damage anything important.

All pretence of civility gone, Palpatine tried to rally, raising a hand to unleash some new Sith trick, but he’d lost the advantage of surprise. Fives, shaking off the images of Umbara, was on him in a second, forcing him to his knees with the offending arm held behind his back and Fives’ own hand clamped over his mouth. Darjetiise were probably just as dangerous as jetiise where words were concerned. General Kolar was just as quick in assisting him, fitting a pair of binders on the still-struggling man’s wrists, as General Windu made the formal arrest and General Tiin summoned Commander Fox to take charge of their captive.

Then all other thoughts were driven out of Fives’ head as Hel, her reserve fuel finally exhausted, suddenly folded up, even her usual grace deserting her. He was at her side in a heartbeat, ignoring Palpatine being sedated and General Fisto explaining the situation to a bewildered Fox. The Sith might have missed her heart, but she was still badly injured; he could see the carpet through the neat hole in her chest, and her breath came in short, sharp gasps that hurt to hear. Every exhale forced more blood out of her mouth, not the decorous trickle you might see in a holofilm but a full stream. No, please, not her, not on top of everything else, she can’t die now…

“There’s still hope.” General Windu’s voice was low and soft, holding more kindness than Fives had ever heard from him. Fives met his eyes – the General was now kneeling on Hel’s other side – and saw the compassion and love the Jedi Master usually kept out of sight. And a flicker of resignation and exasperation that might as well have been a sigh and a “Nothing for it.” The General activated his comm. “Skywalker, we need medevac, direct from the Chancellor’s office. As fast as you can.”

There was hope, Fives knew even as Hel’s life force continued to ebb away. If anyone could get her to the Temple med-bay in time, General Skywalker could. And if anyone could hold on to life longer than they should, Hel could. Love had made her lay down her life, but love could make her pick it up again. She still had work to do.

---

Mando’a glossary:

Vod(’ika): (dear) brother(/sister).

Aruetii: traitor, enemy(, foreigner).

Darjetii(se): Sith (singular/plural).

Jetiise: Jedi (plural).

[kitkat1003]

Tower Tales

6: I’ll be home for Christmas....you can count on me...

AO3 link

@asilcorner

(also recorded myself singing the song in this chapter, listen here!)

Their first Christmas in the tower is on the horizon, and while they try to remain optimistic about it all, it’s hard to be happy when you’re living in a prison.

Yakko, as usual, is shoving down his own sadness with ease.  Wakko watches, with sharp eyes behind the veneer of dull suspicion, as Yakko cheerfully pulls out a Christmas tree from nowhere, has them all put up the ornaments one by one, instead of just throwing stuff on there.  To elongate the process, perhaps, to force them to focus on the action rather than the lack of an escape.

Wakko sees, sometimes, Yakko’s eyes dart to the water tower door.  He hears, at night, Yakko, going to the door and trying to wrench it open.  Some nights Yakko spends hours, sometimes minutes, and sometimes Wakko hears Yakko stop, sit, and cry into his knees.  He’s very quiet, but so is the tower, at night, and they have terribly good hearing for toons.

Yakko’s always smiling in the morning, with breakfast.  Wakko worries.

The first few months after they’d figured out them being locked up wasn’t some prank, they’d thrown anything they could at the door to try and get out.  After they’d ran out of ideas and materials, they’d quit, because it was more depressing to try, hope, be constantly disappointed than just to forget.

Or try to forget.  Wakko guesses that Yakko can’t.

And Dot isn’t exactly thrilled, either.  Wakko thinks she misses the outside more than she lets on.  He vaguely remembers her, on days they felt like wreaking havoc would be boring, taking them on a picnic.  The stock market hadn’t crashed yet, and then it did, so they didn’t have a lot of money.  They did have the ability to steal, but even then they didn’t do it much because it wasn’t fun or right to steal from people who were already going bankrupt.

They’re mischievous, not cruel.  Wakko wonders if the people who locked them in here knew that difference.

“What are we gonna do for Christmas?” he asks one afternoon, during lunch.  “Do you think Santa can get in here with the door locked?”

The question has Dot suck in a sharp breath.  She looks away, upset, and Yakko gives him a look, the one he gives whenever Wakko says something tactless.

Wakko doesn’t have a lot of tact.  He thinks he might’ve eaten it, whatever it is.

“Santa can get in anywhere,” Yakko replies, hands on his hips, confident.  “And we’ve been pretty good, despite the circumstances, so I think we’ll be getting plenty of presents from him.

That’s something that Wakko worries about.  Presents.  What is he even supposed to give his sibs that they can’t just create with toon powers?  Making cards seems lazy, even if he would put all his effort into them.

Yakko, he’s sure, already has an idea.  Because Yakko is smart.  Dot probably has them figured out too.

“I thought you were off Santa’s nice list,” Dot says with a grin.  “You know, for being a hypocrite?”

“I think he’ll find it in his heart to forgive me this year,” Yakko shoots back, hand on his chest, before standing up to put his plate in the sink.  Wakko will lick them clean with his tongue, and Dot will put them in the dishwasher, and one of them will put them away when they’re done depending on when it finishes.  They’re efficient, kind of.

“Should we decorate?” he asks, because so far they only have the tree, and the tower looks a little barren.

Dot’s eyes sparkle at the idea, and Wakko knows he is going to regret asking.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

By the end of the next day, the whole tower is put together, tinsel and twinkling lights that flicker hanging from the walls and ceiling.  Dot puts mistletoe over every doorway they’ve made, and every time they happen to be beneath it, she makes sure they either give her a kiss on the cheek or she gives them one.

Yakko thinks it’s cute, if silly, and Wakko just shrugs it off.

They make a fireplace, with a chimney that they aren’t sure goes all the way through.  Wakko tried climbing it, but halfway up he found himself shot back down, rolling across the floor covered in soot.

He couldn’t even try and argue to not take a bath that day.  Yakko had dunked him in and hadn’t let him out until the black stopped coming off on Yakko’s gloves.

His hopes for Santa visiting are dashed, and he can see Dot deflate too.

“Who needs the guy, anyway,” he hears Yakko mutter, and Wakko wonders.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dot is very, very sure that this Christmas is going to be great.  She knows it is, despite the fact that they don’t even know if Santa can come see them, despite the fact that they won’t be able to go anywhere to see snow, despite how the world around her wants to tell her it won’t be.

She will spite that because she refuses to let anyone take this season from her.  She and Yakko and Wakko start a food fight in the kitchen when making cookies, and cookie batter splatters all over the wall.  Wakko ducks behind the kitchen island, with her, and holds out his hand.

“Truce?” He’s wearing an army hat, comically large on his head, with the straps hanging down past his shoulders.

If she wasn’t astronomically cute herself, Wakko might give her a run for her money.

“Let’s give our brother a wet new coat,” she agrees, and Yakko becomes the color of cookie batter in seconds.

“Betrayal!  By my own siblings no less!  Is nothing sacred?!” Yakko cries, leaning heavily against the stove with the back of his hand placed dramatically against his forehead.  Dot and Wakko giggle, coming around to face him.

“I don’t know, I think this is a good look for you,” Dot gives him a once over and hides a laugh behind her hand.  Wakko reaches out a finger and swipes a bit of the batter off of Yakko, sticking it in his mouth to taste.

“Mmmm,” he grins, and Yakko gets a mischievous gleam in his eye.

“You know, you’re right Dot!  I ought to share my new looks with you, don’t you think?” he reaches out and sweeps them into a goopy hug before either of them can escape, and all three of them share the wealth of the batter that was supposed to go in the oven.

Dot takes a bath, then Yakko does, and Wakko licks himself and the kitchen clean.  He’d offered to lick them clean, but they politely declined.

“Slobber just isn’t a good look on me,” she’d told him, and Wakko had shrugged and eaten the demolished mixing bowl.

After that, they actually make cookies, because as tasty as the batter was to Wakko, they might want some warm, chocolatey goodness.

They make milk-free ones, too, even though Yakko says they don’t have to, because they want him to have a good time too.

Besides, the cookies taste fine without milk.  Who needs lactose?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

That night, Dot is sitting at her vanity, and she looks in the mirror and is ever aware of the background of cold metal.  The decorations look gorgeous, she put them up, she did everything she could to make the Tower become the season she loves.  

(Well, she technically loves the spring the most, with its gorgeous flowers and sunny days for picnics, but still.  Who doesn’t love winter?  It has Christmas!  And, now, it has Yakko’s birthday!)

But, even with all the decorations and fun, even with the mistletoe and the letters to Santa she can’t send, she feels...

Miserable.

She wants to go outside.  She wants to play in the snow.  She wants to harass street carolers by messing with the lyrics of their songs.  She wants to be out there, with people, in the world, instead of sequestered away.

She sighs, remembering a tune from their previous Christmas.

I’ll be home for Christmas.

You can count on me.

Please have snow, and mistletoe,

And presents under the tree.

Christmas Eve will find me,

Where the love light gleams...

She trails off and sighs again, resting her arms on the vanity, and then her head on her arms.

She doesn’t notice the figure peeking from the third floor, frowning down at her in concern.  Doesn’t notice the lightbulb appear over his head, before he ducks back upstairs.

She just sits there, thinking of the last time she saw a single snowflake.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wakko locks up the third floor, a week and a half before Christmas.

When they ask, he tells them it’s a surprise.  Because it will be.  He finally knows what his gift for them, for Christmas, will be, and he can’t let them ruin it, because he really wants to see the pure surprise on their faces when they witness it.

He spends the days up till Christmas Eve working on it, finishing it Christmas Eve morning after breakfast and before lunch.  He’ll have to double check it before showing it to them, but that’s fine.  It’ll be about ten minutes security and then he can show them the magic he has in store.

Dot has swapped out her typical character modeled dress for a long sleeved one, with white fuzz trim on the hem and where the sleeves end.  Yakko has a pair of deer antlers, and keeps calling himself Rudolph, whoever that is.  Yakko says it’s going to be a hit a few years from now.

Wakko just puts on a Santa hat on top of his baseball cap and calls it a day.  Dot calls him lazy, and he shrugs, cause that’s a fair assessment.

Christmas Eve is as fun as it is weird, because they don’t have anything anywhere to do to celebrate, but they cut out little paper snowflakes and angels to hang up and then watch and see how much eggnog Wakko can chug at once.

The answer is around 6 gallons, give or take, because Yakko capped him off there, worried.

“You’re such a mother hen,” Dot snickers, and Wakko tilts his head to the side with a hiccup.

“Isn’t a male chicken a cock?” 

Yakko laughs.

“Goodnight everybody!”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They meant to stay up, but they’re kids, so they fall asleep eventually.  Wakko, kicking and squirming in bed, because even asleep he can’t stay still, wakes to the sound of frantic whispers.

“Please, just-just for tonight,” Yakko’s voice is quiet and pleading, and when Wakko blinks away the sleep from his eyes he turns into see Yakko, standing in front of Santa, hand gripping Santa’s coat.

And Wakko doesn’t have the time to process the fact that Santa is here, and real, because Yakko keeps talking.

“Please-just take them out, I’ll stay inside.  We-just for the night, just let them see the sky again, some snow, it’s been months, please,” Wakko can’t see Santa’s face, but he does see the shake of his head.  

Yakko’s voice cracks when he speaks.

“Just one ride?  They’ll be good-I-,” Yakko pauses. “Okay, maybe they won’t be, you know them, but I’ll make sure they are, okay?  They-they don’t deserve to be locked in here.  It’s Christmas, so just for tonight-please.”

There’s something so young about Yakko’s voice, then.  Yakko doesn’t sound like a kid, sometimes, and Wakko doesn’t always either, but for him it’s for laughs and for Yakko it’s because he’s tired.

Santa says something, puts a hand on Yakko’s shoulder, and Yakko deflates.  Wakko doesn’t even notice that there are new presents under the tree yet, because he’s too busy trying to be quiet enough to hear.

“Just go,” Yakko’s voice is hard, and quiet, and cold, and sad.  Santa pulls another present from his bag and sets it beneath the tree, and disappears up the chimney.

Wakko watches Yakko tremble in place, for a good two minutes.  He counts the seconds in his head, because it feels like they go so slow.  Yakko finally stops, takes in a deep breath, and sighs.

“Who needs the guy, anyway,” he hears Yakko repeat, and he pretends to snore as Yakko walks back to bed, and buries his face in the pillow.

It takes a long time for him to get back to sleep.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wakko wakes up on Christmas to the smell of peppermint hot cocoa at the crack of dawn-at the very least, it feels like the crack of dawn, because it’s earlier than he’s woken up in a while, but the elation of Christmas!!!! has him up in an instant.

There’s a large stack of presents beneath the tree, their names written in pretty cursive of the same handwriting.  Dot is all cheer, and he watches her skip towards the kitchen.  He shuffles over himself.  Yakko sets two cups of hot cocoa on the table, and swirls the top with a large helping of whipped cream, before sprinkling some peppermint on top.

“Merry Christmas, sibs,” he smiles down at them, and it almost makes Wakko forget about the night before.  “My gift to you is your menu of choice.  The whole day, a la carte menu.  Whatever you guys want, I’ll make.  So, what’s for breakfast?”

Wakko’s eyes are blown wide. Yakko has no idea the can of worms he’s opened with that open ended gift.  Or, maybe he does, because he puts on a chef’s coat and hat, and sets up the stove, and a grill, and the oven.

“Bring it on, little brother.  But, uh, let me make Dot’s first?  Something tells me hers will be a biiiiit quicker to make.” Wakko bites his tongue at that request, and Dot prattles off a normal order, because she’s boring.

By the time Yakko is done with Wakko’s order, he’s out of baloney in his slacks.

“I’ll put some more in there later.” He shrugs it off, and Wakko finishes off plate thirty seven with a grin. 

After that, they open up the presents under the tree.  Yakko gets some notebooks, a set of fancy pens, and a very expensive looking leather belt.  He also gets some books, and a perfect replica of a Shakespearian outfit.

He seems happy, but his smile is strained.  Wakko thinks he knows why.  Yakko is getting better at hiding it, though, because he almost didn’t notice Yakko was sad at all.  There’s still a trace, though.

Wakko wonders if he’ll start forgetting to look for that.

Dot gets the latest model of hair straightener and curler, and a wide breadth of makeup products, as well as a poetry book that she regards with half suspicion and half curiosity.  She gets a notebook and pen, too, one with a feather plume sticking out the end.  She uses it to brush underneath her chin, giggling.

Wakko gets some chew toys, some that he doesn’t see himself devouring just yet, and a necklace with a chew on too.  He puts it on and nibbles on it as he opens up the others.  He gets an engineering book, called “Building Without the Math,” and it sounds right up his alley.  He also gets a tool kit, which he places in his gag bag for safe keeping. 

The other items are mostly random toys they hadn’t known existed because they haven’t been outside.  Wakko uses the propeller of a toy plane as a fan, and then spits in it to see the drool droplets hover.

“Eugh,” Dot growls out, looking away, before she sighs and reaches into her dress pocket.  “This leads to my gift.” She hands both Yakko and Wakko a set of flash cards on a ring.

“Coupons?” Yakko flips through them, and then snickers.

“You two can do things that...,” Dot struggles for the world.  “Make me uncomfortable.  Cause you’re boys.” She rolls her eyes. “But you like to do them ‘cause they make you happy, not because they make me annoyed, so these are your passes for that.  Valid for a year.”

There are ones like “Can lick me” and “Allowed to not bathe for 2 weeks” that Wakko thinks are specifically targeted at him but hey, why not?  Baths are dumb, and he licks to show affection!  He sticks the cards in his cap.

Yakko rips one out, hands it to her.

“Thanks, Dottie,” he stresses her least favorite nickname, and she bares her teeth in a very strained smile, snatching the coupon from his hand.  But Yakko laughs, and soon enough, they all are.

“I’m also going to put away the decorations, no extra charge,” she waves a hand.  

“Sounds good to me,” Wakko hops up, fidgeting with his long sleeves.  “I...have to prepare my gift for you.  Can you guys wait on the second floor?”

Yakko and Dot share a look, and then nod.

Wakko vanishes up to the third floor, heart in his throat.

He hopes this works.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He makes them put blindfolds on, pulling them up the stairs.  Yakko holds Dot’s hand in one and Wakko’s in the other, helping Dot up as Wakko drags him along.

“What’s with the secrecy, Wakko?” He asks, and Wakko bounces in nervous excitement, tail curled around his leg.

“It’s a surprise,” he insists, and sets them up perfectly, on the mark he planned out.  He’d checked, double checked, triple checked.  If this doesn’t work he is going to lose it.

He turns off the lights, and pushes his contraption to the back of the room.

“Wakko, I would like to see sometime today,” Dot calls, and Wakko fidgets.

“Almost done!” The ice is in, okay, now just push the button.

There’s a series of clanks, and then a loud, grinding sound.  Dot and Yakko shiver, and Wakko is glad he used scarves for blindfolds.

There’s a loud FWUMP, and Wakko bounces on his toes.  His feet make indents in the ground.

“Okay, you can look now!”

Dot and Yakko pull down their blindfolds, and Dot gasps.

They’re surrounded by snow.

There’s a model of a crescent moon up by the ceiling, that acts like a lamp, and glow in the dark stars that glimmer pasted up on the ceiling, with constellations they find familiar.  From the machine in the back, snowflakes are shot out, drifting slowly to the ground.

“I, uh, I made snow,” Wakko shrugs, a little self conscious.  “Since we can’t go outside, I thought...,” What is there to say?

Dot takes one step into the snow, like she can’t believe it, and squeals when her feet crunches into it, jumping around.

Yakko is still dumbstruck, until Dot comes around and shoves snow down his pants.  He jumps up comically high with a shriek, ears brushing the ceiling, and when he falls into the snow it makes a perfect imprint of him.

“Oh, that’s it!” he picks up some snow and throws it at her.  Dot throws some back.  Wakko runs into the fray, nailing Dot in the face, and she takes her revenge with deadly precision, before sprinting over to him and tackling him into the ground.

“Thank you thank you thank you thank you!” she shouts so loud that Wakko’s ears ring.

“Merry Christmas?” he tries, and she laughs.

“I knew you were my favorite brother!”

“Hey, I’m offended!” Yakko sprints over, but he’s laughing too, and he drops on top of them, wrapping his arms around them and rolling over in the snow, so they’re on top of him.

He nuzzles Wakko’s nose with his own.

“Nice job, little brother.  Think you got us beat with this gift.” Wakko blushes, looking away.

“Wanna make a snowman?” he responds, because you’re welcome seems too formal.  

“Heck yeah!” Dot jumps up and runs over to a large pile of snow.

“Watch your fucking language!” Yakko barks without heat.

“You’re not the boss of me!”

Wakko giggles, and Yakko sits up.

“C’mon, let’s not let her have all the fun,” Yakko picks him up and sets him off to the side, and Wakko is off like a shot the moment his feet touch the ground.

He thinks about the night before, of Yakko’s words.

Who needs the guy, anyway?

Beneath the fake moonlight, where the snow still sparkles like Wakko remembers, with Dot giggling up a storm as they make the largest snowman they can, with Yakko looking lighter than he has since they got stuck in here, Wakko can’t help but agree.

Who needs Santa anyway?

He can hear the tune from before, in his head, and hums it as they work, smile widening when Dot and Yakko join in.

I’ll be home for Christmas

If only in my dreams!

[louisapennyfeather2021]

Can you do a Jack Kelly sister x race or Albert (up to you) and Jack finds you guys kissing and is about to kill race or Albert. Then you all sit down and Jack gives the classic dad talk. This could be plantonic Jack/ race or Albert love. (You also don’t have to make it a sister I’m just a girl myself haha)

I finally made myself do this, mostly because I said I'd have it done by Friday and that's in less than four hours, but I'll(hopefully) make it happen!!! Have I finished my essay? Of course not, but I did finished my math tests! Planned procrastination is somewhat effective, right?

Anywho, here it is!

Relationships: Brother!Jack, Reader x Albert

Pronouns: She/Her as the person who asked did clarify that she is a girl :)

(psst... I can always make this with they/them pronouns if anyone would like that)

A/N: This is definitely not my best work, but it's not bad!!! I always feel awkward trying to write Dad Talks, but never enough to not write them at all!!! Maybe it'll help that I'm awkward with it so it'll be projected onto my work haha!

Warnings: some kissing, a bad word or two. That's about it? Oh, also, I'm really bad at writing kissing stuff lmao

Setting: 1899 Duane Street Lodging House

***

"No, Y/N, you gotta wear ya cap right or ya gonna look like ya ain't got hair." Jack snatches Y/N's hat from off her head before flipping it and placing it on her head correctly.

"Jack, cut it out! Ain'tcha got somethin' better t' do?" Y/N swats at her brother's hand, ducking to avoid his mother hen behavior.

"He ain't got nothin' t' do cause he's too busy hoverin'." Crutchie snorts from where he sits on the front steps of the lodging house. Jack throws a half-hearted glare at Crutchie, which gives Y/N enough time to sneak past Jack and hurry down the street towards Newsies Square.

"Hey, where d'ya think yer goin'?" Jack calls. Y/N huffs and shakes her head before looking over her shoulder. As soon as she does, she takes off sprinting down the street, Jack chasing her down. Y/N squeezes past some of the guys that are making their way down the street, successfully managing to not completely shove Jojo into a walk on accident.

It's not unusual for Jack to be so overbearing, specifically with Y/N. Sure, he's oddly protective over all the Newsies, but he practically turns into a bear with Y/N. Jack says it's because she's his "baby sista' 'nd nothin's ever gonna happen to no sister o' mine."

Y/N understands to an extent, of course, but it makes some things, well, difficult. Specifically hanging out with friends. Or maybe someone who's more than a friend.

"Someone's rushin' this mornin'." Racetrack Higgins snorts as Y/N hurries to duck behind him and Buttons. Both wait outside the gates for Weasel to come open them. Albert leans on the gate opposite of Race, raising an amused eyebrow at Y/N. She playfully narrows her eyes at him before breathing a sigh.

"Just my parasite of a brotha'. Again." Y/N grumbles. Jack treats her like she's still a kid, when really she's just a year and a half younger than him. To some folks, that's a lot, but when you're forced to grow up on the streets of New York, it's just numbers.

"Ain't like he's doin' it for nothin'." Race scoffs a laugh, sharing a knowing look with Buttons before glancing between Albert and Y/N where she's still hiding behind the two smirking boys.

"Oh, shuddup. Jack ain't gotta worry about what he don't know about." Y/N glares pointedly at both Race and Buttons.

"Don't worry, I've kept Racer from hawkin' yer secret t' all of Manhattan." Buttons shoves Race's shoulder. Race squawks in protest and he starts arguing with Buttons. Y/N laughs, knowing Race would keep her secret no matter what. It's just funny to see Buttons get a rise out of Race.

"Could be worse. Buttons could'a taken his cigar." Albert chuckles, although he absentmindedly rubs his upper arm. He's learned the hard way not to take the blond boy's comfort object. However, that doesn't keep him from occasionally stealing it.

"You'd know how that turns out." Y/N sneaks behind Race as he argued with Buttons and stands next to Albert. She doesn't stand too close, especially since Jack is probably on his way with the rest of the fellas.

The last thing Y/N needs is for Jack to get suspicious of her and her relationships.

So Y/N just leans on the gate near Albert, both laughing as Race and Buttons start on a tangent. Eventually the others gather around, Jack and Crutchie being the last to actually show up. As soon as he's at the gate, Jack starts fussing over Y/N's hat again. She smacks his hand away and glares at him, receiving a horribly hidden laugh from Albert.

"Would you stop swattin', I'm tryin' t' make ya not look like a hooligan." Jack huffs.

"You know we're a bunch'a kids that sell papes for a livin', right? Hooligan is the nicest thing folks can call us." Y/N rolls her eyes. Jack opens his mouth to respond, but he doesn't get the chance. Instead, the sound of the gates rattling and snarky comments fills the air. Y/N turns to see none other than Oscar and Morris Delancey hesitantly opening the gates.

"What, no hello?"

"Wake up on the wrong side'a the cave this mornin'?"

"Aw, did'ya not have someone t' tuck ya in last night?"

The jabs make Y/N's face go red to hide her laughs. The dramatic eye rolls and frowns on the Delancey Brothers' faces are pure gold. Y/N doesn't doubt that either brother would go after any Newsie if it wouldn't get them in some trouble. After all, good ol' Mr. Pulitzer needs someone to make money for him.

As some of the guys keeps teasing the brothers, Y/N sneaks past them with Buttons, Albert following not too far behind. The three line up to get their papers, waiting for Weasel to slither his way to the distribution stand.

"Alright, line it up!" As if hearing his name, the Weasel himself stands grumpily behind his money box.

"Mornin' Weasel! Long time, no see!" Y/N grins brightly. The annoyed twitch under Weasel's left eye is enough to make Y/N snort.

"Not long enough." He grumbles.

"Aw, don't be such'a grump." Y/N mock pouts. She pulls a dime from her pocket and flips it onto the money box before moving down to take a stack of papers. She's grateful when Morris hands her the stack, although he does it with a sneer. Nice to know he's not specifically angry at her, at least not angry enough to throw her papers at her like he'll likely do to Jack and definitely to Race.

Y/N waits by the gates for her selling partner, aka the one and only Albert DaSilva. Thankfully Jack hasn't picked up on the Y/N and Albert almost always being partners. They switched it up once and a while to throw off any suspicion, but they're usually selling together. After all, it's one of the only times they can be together without the worry of Jack seeing.

"Ain'tcha sweet for waitin' for me?" Albert teases as he reaches the gate, his head down as he organizes his stack of papers in his bag.

"We both know you'd get lost if I let'cha go alone." Y/N snorts a laugh. She successfully ducks a playful swat from Albert before she looks over his shoulder. She sees Jack taunting Weasel and she knows she has a few seconds to leave before her brother chases her down. "C'mon, best we get a head start on Jack."

"Well stop screwin' around then." Albert grins and hurries out of the square, Y/N right on his heels.

They hurry through the streets of Manhattan towards the Brooklyn bridge. They usually take up selling along the waterfront, sometimes a few blocks around the bridge. They mostly sell at the bridge because it's one of the furthest spots from where Jack sells. Meaning they can hang out once they finish selling morning papers in peace.

"Bet I can sell all my papes b'fore you can even hawk a headline." Albert elbows Y/N's arm as they reach the bridge, the area slowly coming to life as people hurry to get to work.

"You're on." Y/N smirks before hurrying across the street to start selling.

The two spend most of the morning selling, taking a few small breaks to hide in the shade of an alleyway from the July sun. Y/N manages to finish selling her last paper just a few minutes after Albert. The red head is all smirks when he notices Y/N finish after him.

"Don't come smirkin' at me, you bet that you could sell out before I even started. You didn't say nothin' about finishin' first." Y/N points a finger at Albert as they turn down one of the alleyways behind the produce market. Y/N holds an apple in hand and Albert has a pear.

"Should'a bet I'd win first, that way I'da got a free lunch." Albert sighs dramatically and takes a bite of his pear. Y/N rolls her eyes for what feels like the millionth time today before eating her apple.

"I still don't see how ya eat those things." Y/N mumbles.

"I don't see how you can't!" Albert scoffs before finishing his pear.

"Too sweet. And soft, they make a mess." Y/N shrugs and takes another bite of her apple.

"You just can't handle how sweet pears are cause you're so bitter." Albert laughs. Y/N's mouth drops open and she doesn't hesitate to throw the core of her apple at Albert, effectively hitting his neck. Albert gapes, although there's a slight upturn at the corner of his lips. "Low blow, Kelly!"

"Aw, did I hurt the your ego on accident?" Y/N can't hold back the laugh the bubbles up from deep in her stomach. Albert gives her a "seriously?" look before he jumps at her. Y/N accidentally let's out a panicked squeak before turning. She gets a few steps before Albert wraps his arms around her and squeezes her into a hug from behind. "No fair!"

"I think you should apologize." Albert hums, his chin on top of Y/N's head. She's not short, but the way she's standing makes it easy for Albert to rest his chin in top of her head.

"Do you realize how awkward this is?" Y/N squirms. Her feet are in front of her and she's practically leaning against Albert, it's almost like she's trying to sit down. "Seriously, I think you're gonna break my back."

"Apologize 'nd I'll let go." Albert starts swaying back and forth, making Y/N grip his arms and shuffle her feet to keep from completely slipping to the ground.

"Ain't got nothin' t' apologize for." Y/N finished the sentence in time for Albert to sway further and nearly drop Y/N on her bottom. She squeaks again, making the obnoxious red head laugh and try to keep a firm grip on her so she won't fall.

"You're ridiculous." Albert shuffles back and helps Y/N stand up, laughing when she huffs in annoyance. Albert moves around to stand in front of Y/N, his arms crossed as he meets her faux annoyed expression. "I still think you owe me 'n apology."

"I don't see no reason why." Y/N shrugs, although the corners of her mouth twitch up into a horribly suppressed smile.

"That's a lousy thing t' say." Albert pouts, receiving a raised eyebrow from Y/N. The girl takes a small step closer to Albert and shrugs her shoulders slightly.

"Lousy ain't always bad." Y/N jokingly winks. Albert shakes his head with a laugh before naturally gravitating closer to Y/N. She follows until her nose bumps Albert's, the two of them getting closer until Y/N closes her eyes and feels Albert's mouth lightly touch hers.

Y/N hums into the kiss as Albert reaches up and rests his hand on the side of her neck. She follows, her hand gently wrapping around Albert's wrist and her thumb rubbing the soft skin. She can't help but smile as she moves her mouth againsr Albert's. This is far from the first time they've kissed, but with how little time they get to spend together, every kiss feels like the first.

Y/N still gets butterflies in her stomach. She still gets that happy high afterwards.

But even the happy high can end in a snap.

"Oh, hell no." Y/N's eyes snap open and she quickly pulls away from Albert. Her wide eyes meet Jack's furious frown as he stands near the mouth of the alleyway. Behind him, Race stands with an apologetic expression, Crutchie next to him with a hand over his mouth like he's holding in a laugh.

"Oh boy." Y/N whispers. Albert turns around, his expression matching Y/N's.

"Hey, Jack..." Albert awkwardly waves at the fuming boy.

"You're dead, DaSilva." And that's all it takes for Albert to bolt down the other end of the alleyway, Jack right on his heels. Y/N just stares in shocked silence, hardly noticing Race and Crutchie come to a stop next to her.

"I swear, I tried to distract him." Race rushes, although Y/N doesn't seem to hear as she opens and closes her mouth in shock.

"You are so in for it." Crutchie busts out laughing.

I'm so dead, Y/N thinks.

***

"Jack, you need t' calm down!"

"Calm down?! He was suckin' my sista's face!"

"Oh, no, gross, that's definitely not what we were doin'."

"You stay out of this!"

"Okay, everyone shuddup!" Y/N yells from one corner of the rooftop of the lodging house. Crutchie leans against the fire escape, watching and occasionally throwing in a comment or two. Jack paces around the roof, eyes narrowed in on Albert. The red head stands near the edge of the roof, as if he's ready to make a break for it if need be. Y/N stands somewhat between Albert and her fuming brother, sort of like a last resort for a barrier between the two. Y/N faces her brother, her arms crossed under her chest and her mouth set in a thin line. "Jack, it was just'a kiss 'nd I like Albert. S'nothin' wrong with that."

"Nothin' wrong with that? Everything's wrong with that! You're my sista', Albert's s'posed t' be my pal! Seein you two lockin' lips is just-" Jack wiggles around and gags, his nose scrunching up.

"Oh, we are not having this conversation because the thought of your sister kissin' a boy makes ya uncomfy." Y/N rolls her eyes before planting her hands in her hips.

"She has a point." Crutchie comments. Jack whines and shuffles around like he's about ready to throw himself off the rooftop.

"That don't change the fact that it's gross and weird and just wrong. She's my sister." Jack stares down Albert and points at Y/N.

"Yeah, 'nd it just so happens I was kissin' someone you know and trust! S'not like I was kissin' a Delancey or nothin'." Y/N's comment makes the other three on the roof gag and squirm uncomfortably. "Oh, we all know it's true!"

"Doesn't mean we wanna hear it." Albert shivers in disgust.

"Alright alright alright." Jack exhales heavily. He paces a few more times, shakes his head and pursing his lips. Y/N waits in silence with Albert and Crutchie, all three knowing Jack needs a second. When he finally stops pacing, all the attention trains in on him. "Fine, okay, s'not the worst thing ever, I'm gonna set some ground rules."

"What?!"

"Seriously?" Y/N whines, something she unfortunately shares with her older parasite- um, brother.

"Yes. Now I d'know how long this has been goin' on, but I'm sayin' right now that we will not be havin' any littles-"

"I'm gonna be sick." Y/N gags, and it's unfortunately a legitimate gag that makes bile sting the back of her mouth. Albert must inhale sharply and start choking on his spit because he starts coughing obnoxiously. Even Crutchie, who had found the whole situation so hilarious, looks like he's going to be sick.

"Oh, quit it ya pansies." Jack huffs. He angles towards Albert, his eyes narrowed again. "'Nd you. If you hurt my sista' in any way, I swear you'll find yourself swimmin' in the East River in no time."

"I'm definitely not planning on it." Albert manages to say before coughing and clearing his throat, his eyes watery from coughing.

"Good." Jack nods in satisfaction. He looks at the sky and seems to ponder before signing. "Get'a move in, gonna have evenin' papes out soon."

Albert throws an anxious look at Y/N before hurrying to the fire escape. He disappears, Crutchie quickly following and leaving the Kelly siblings alone.

"Y'know, ya could'a told me." Jack's shoulders sag. Y/N kicks her foot awkwardly, her eyes trained in the ground.

"Not if it risked ya reactin' the way ya did t'day." Y/N mutters. She looks up to see Jack sigh and move closer to her.

"I can definitely tell ya I wouldn't have chased him down." Jack snorts.

"I guess that would've been a perk." Y/N hums. She meets Jack's gaze and suddenly the two start laughing. Jack reaches over and playfully shives Y/N's shoulder.

"C'mon, weirdo. We got papes t' sell." Jack shakes his head.

Y/N smiles and follows him off the roof.

That's one crisis averted.

Granted, they still have the rest if the day left.