#going to finish my dominos now because i left it out on the table two hours ago whoops

[auriidae]

just watched a movie ..

[stardustshelb]

"Strawberry" Part Five

TW: Language

Word count: 7,999

Chapter Thirteen

I finished applying my lipstick in the bathroom mirror when I heard my phone vibrate on the counter. My heart fluttered when I thought it’d be Josh telling me they were on their way, but instead it was Kenneth’s name on the screen. My heart sank.

Kenneth: “Are you alive? I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

Me: “All good here! How is everything with you?”

Kenneth: “Good. I’m ready for you to come home.” I hesitated on what to reply back to his message. I was so not ready to come home, but I knew my return was inevitable. 

Me: “Only two more days.” I replied with a sad face emoji. Of course, I was sad because I only had two days left of freedom, fun, and Joshua. I wasn’t ready to return back to the same loneliness I feel in Oklahoma. Just then, I got a notification of a text from Plagiarism.

Plagiarism: “We are heading your way now.” I smiled and held the message down to “love” it before taking one final look in the mirror. I was so nervous to meet his friends, well–brothers–but I was even more nervous about how the girls were going to behave tonight. I turned the bathroom light off, stuck my phone in my jean backpocket, and made my way into the living room where the girls were all hanging out. Despite the fact that we were literally staying home for the evening, that didn’t stop Abby from wearing a multi-color sequin mini dress that was so tight I wondered how she was able to sit down, let alone breathe. I opted for a more comfortable approach in my ripped jeans and cropped t-shirt. Brooke was in a casual maxi dress; Maddie was in jean shorts and a Nashville t-shirt that she must have picked up on this trip. Riley was back in her “BRIDE” white velour tracksuit from her travel day. When she put it on, she exclaimed, “Even though we’re staying in, it’s still my bachelorette party. I have to dress the part!” We definitely didn’t look like we were all dressed for the same occasion. 

“What time will the pizzas be here?” Madie asked.

“In about an hour,” Abby replied. Of course she volunteered to buy all of the pizzas and refused to accept Venmo from us. She had an unlimited budget and I wasn’t going to argue because it kept me from spending the last of my money. I guess she wanted to be Saint Domino’s for the night.

I did one last walk through the Airbnb to make sure everything was perfect for the boys’ arrival. There wasn’t going to be enough room at the dining room table for all of us, so we took the pillows and blankets from our bedrooms to make the living room floor more comfortable as a hangout spot. The deck of cards for our drinking games and coasters for our glasses were neatly displayed on top of the living room table. I still couldn’t fight the anxious feeling building inside of me. My mind was racing with hypothetical, worst case scenarios. I definitely was going to need to take a shot or something as soon as the boys got here with the booze. I just needed to relax.

“Welcome, come in!” I said nervously as I opened the door for our secretly famous guests. Once I saw Josh’s smile, a calmness washed over me. The effect he has on me can only be credited to magic. He walked past me and gently rubbed his hand on my shoulder as a subtle greeting. Even with just his light touch, electricity surged through my veins. I got a whiff of his cologne and almost floated through the air like you see in the cartoons. In his arms were brown paper sacks no doubt full of bottles of the poison he picked for tonight. Behind him followed the three best looking guys I have ever seen. Seriously, why was every member in this band so damn good looking? Were they even real? I tried not to appear star-struck as Jake, Danny, and Sam entered the Airbnb–each of them also held brown paper sacks. It looked like there was enough alcohol between them to host a big frat party. 

Josh pulled my arm close to him and said, “Guys, this is Strawberry.” I immediately felt my face get hot. It just hit me that we’d been playing the no-name-game and now I was going to have to continue it with an audience of people who weren’t in on the joke.

“Who the hell is Strawberry?” I heard Abby’s voice ask. Shit.

“It’s a nickname,” I said, trying to think of what to say.

“Well, obviously because your name is—” Abby was saying.

“I call her Strawberry,” Josh interrupted. 

“Nice to meet you, Strawberry. I’m Sam,” he said as he pulled me into a hug. I wrapped my arms around him and felt him squeeze me tight. I liked him.

“I’m Danny,” he said, giving a nervous wave to the group accompanied by a soft smile. 

“Jake,” he said with no smile. I remembered his serious disposition when he was the assistant on the plane. I got the vibe that he didn’t want to be here, but maybe he was just hard to read.

I took a turn introducing all of the girls one-by-one to the guys. Oddly enough, even when I said each of their names, Josh never looked at anyone but me. I tried to act like I didn’t notice his stare, but I could feel my knees getting weaker by the second. 

“I want to take a shot with the bride!” Sammy yelled as he made his way to the kitchen with his arms full of bags. I grabbed Riley’s hand and pulled her along behind him. The guys followed suit and started unpacking their purchases. Bottles of beer, wine, and liquor started to plague the countertop space. 

“We brought a little of everything because we weren’t sure what you guys would like,” Danny said with an adorable smile.

“I like it all,” Abby said as she scooted closer to him. I watched Danny’s nervous eyes flash to the counter as he slowly shifted his body away from hers. Yep, I liked him too.

“And for a little taste of home,” Josh said as he started to pull out a bottle with a label that I knew all too well. My eyes got wide as I recognized the bottle of bourbon in his hands. Riley immediately turned her neck to look at me; her shocked expression matched mine.

“Uh, not big bourbon fans?” Josh asked nervously when he noticed our reactions.

“How did you find Oklahoma bourbon in Tennessee?” I asked.

“This is the reason why we were in Oklahoma,” Josh said, tilting the bottle in the air.

“I’m not following,” I said.

“The business meeting in OKC was with this brand. We are partnering with them,” Jake interrupted.

“What do you guys do?” Maddie asked. I couldn’t focus on the elaborate lies that the boys were now feeding the girls about their made-up professions because I could only focus on the bottle of bourbon in Josh’s hands. The same brand of bourbon that sits on my shelves back home. The same brand of bourbon that Kenneth drinks. The same brand of bourbon that pays my bills. The same brand of bourbon that shares what is supposed to be my future last name. The same brand of bourbon that Kenneth’s family business makes. What the actual fuck was going on?

“Can I see you for a  minute?” I heard as I felt Riley squeeze on my arm which pulled me from my thoughts. I followed her out of the kitchen and into the empty dining room.

“Does he know that’s Kenneth’s bourbon?” Riley asked in a whisper.

“Of course not!” I said in almost a yell. I couldn’t whisper even if I had wanted to. I couldn’t believe what was happening.

“How? Why? What?” Riley asked, throwing her hands up frantically.

“I can’t tell him he’s about to do business with my–!” I hissed.

“Is everything ok?” I heard Josh’s voice suddenly ring through my ears.

“Yes,” I heard Riley say as she turned me around to face him. “We just weren’t sure how our local brand of bourbon would make its way to you,” she added.

“We wanted to partner with a US-based distillery and this is our favorite brand of bourbon. We tried it once on tour and it changed our lives. We are in the works of collaborating with the company to become ambassadors for their brand,” he said.

“So this means you’ll be in Oklahoma again?” I asked.

“Yes, it means we’ll make a couple more trips,” he said with a smirk. I felt Riley squeeze my arm again. 

“Well, I don’t know about Strawberry here, but I am not a bourbon fan. I’m going to find Sam who owes me that shot,” Riley said as she made her way out of the room to leave us alone. She turned around to look at me over Josh’s shoulder to mouth “Oh my God” before exiting the room. 

“When will you be back in Oklahoma?” I asked. Josh pulled out his phone to check his calendar. I studied his face as his eyes moved through the many dates on his app. No doubt that he was always busy. 

“We are set to come back at the end of next month,” he said, double-checking his dates. 

“Were you going to tell me?” I said.

“I wasn’t sure,” Josh admitted. My heart sank.

“You were going to fly back to Oklahoma City, be less than two hours from me, and keep that a secret?” I asked, trying to mask the hurt in my voice.

“I don’t want to mess up anything in your personal life. It’s different being here,” he said.

“So you planned to cut ties with me the second I flew home,” I said. 

“That’s not fair,” Josh said. Before I could respond, I jumped at the sound of glass shattering from the kitchen. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” Maddie yelled. I pushed my way past Josh and headed into the kitchen to find a busted bottle of what smelled like tequila all over the kitchen floor. Pieces of glass and liquid were everywhere. 

“Nobody move!” I commanded as I made my way to the storage closet in the hallway to grab towels and a broom. The last thing I wanted was to make an ER trip because someone had cut their foot open. When I returned back to the scene of the accident, Josh was kneeling on the ground and had already started picking up the large pieces of glass.

“Good thing we brought another bottle of tequila,” Sam said, lightening the mood.

“I’m so sorry,” Maddie said again.

“It’s really ok,” Sam said as he stuck a lime wedge in his mouth to give her a fruit-filled smile. I liked how he was able to dust things off as no big deal. I wished I could be more like that.

“Fuck,” I heard Josh say. I looked down to see he had accidentally cut the palm of his hand while collecting the glass.

“Let me clean this up,” Riley said as she grabbed the towels and broom from me. “There’s a first aid kit under the sink in the guest bathroom. Go make sure Josh is ok,” she said.

“I’m a nurse!” Brooke chimed in. “I can doctor him up,” she said.

“Just rub some tequila on it. You’ll be fine,” Jake said with a laugh. It was the first time I had seen him smile. Like his brother, he had a radiant smile. 

“I’m fine,” Josh added as he stood up and made his way to the sink. I watched him wash the blood from his palm and it made me feel nauseated. Even though I was a teacher who had witnessed many nosebleeds in my classroom, dealing with blood was not in my wheelhouse. I left the room to grab the first aid kit for Brooke to mend Josh’s hand. Or, maybe I left the room to get away from the sight of blood. Both were true in this case. 

“Party foul!” Abby yelled from the living room. I rolled my eyes as I walked past her and made my way into the bathroom. I got on my knees and opened the cabinet under the sink to look for the kit that Riley claimed was there. I saw fresh linen towels, bathroom cleaning supplies, but no first aid kit. I kept looking when I jumped at the sound of his voice.

“I really am fine,” he said. I stopped my search and looked up to see him standing in the doorway. He had a wad of paper towels clenched in a tight fist. 

“Riley said it was in here,” I said, turning my attention back to the cabinet. Josh stepped more into the bathroom and shut the door, closing the two of us inside. I tried to ignore his presence and focus on the task of finding the kit. Alas, I spotted a small white container with a red cross on the lid.

“Voila!” I said holding it up. I opened the plastic box to sift through gauze, bandages, and medical tape. “Let me get Brooke,” I said as I started to stand up.

“I don’t need a nurse to put on a bandaid,” he said laughing.

“Well, I don’t do blood, so she’s your only hope,” I said, shoving the box to him.

“I feel like you’re lying just because you don’t want to talk to me,” he said, blocking the doorway.

“Well, I don’t particularly feel like talking to you at the moment, but no, I will truly get sick if I see your blood,” I said. He kept the paper towel clenched in his fist and put his wounded hand behind his back away from my line of vision. 

“I don’t understand why you’re mad at me,” he said. I honestly didn’t understand either but I couldn’t let him know that. He had made it clear to me already that this was nothing serious. I was the one floundering about in a dream world that was only going to end in heartbreak for me. I understood that; I just didn’t want to accept it.

“I’m not mad. I guess I was just hurt that you didn’t want to see me again,” I said, shifting my feet.

“Oh, believe me. I do want to see you, but I don’t want to cause a disturbance in your personal life. You have a fiancé, a job, a family, really just a whole other life in Oklahoma. I don’t fit in that puzzle,” he said. I wished he wanted to. I’d create a whole new puzzle to make his piece fit with mine.

“You’re right,” I said with a sigh. 

“Let’s just enjoy the time we have left, ok?” He said as he closed the space between us. I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eyes because I didn’t want my sadness to show. 

“I better get back out there,” I said.

“What’s the rush?” He asked, moving closer to me so that our bodies were mere centimeters apart. His enticing scent consumed me. 

“I’m not hooking up with you in the bathroom while your hand is bleeding,” I said with a laugh.

“Can you at least kiss me in the bathroom while my hand is bleeding?” He asked. I finally met his eyes. He was smiling and I wanted nothing more than to kiss him. But I wasn’t sure what I wanted from him now. I felt the need to protect my feelings.

“We’ll see,” I said as I moved around him, ignoring his advances. I put my hand on the doorknob when I felt his arm wrap around my waist.

“Come here,” he said, pulling me to him. I tried to stand firm but my subconscious craved his touch. As if I had no control over my body, I allowed him to hold me close. I took a deep breath and felt myself melt into him. This intimacy, this closeness, this connection… How could he not feel it too?

“I have to pee!” Abby’s voice rang from the other side of the bathroom door. I let go of Josh and looked up into his eyes. They appeared darker than normal. Like he felt conflicted by something but wouldn’t dare to admit. 

“Coming!” I said, pulling myself away from his hold. At that moment, it was as if I pulled a part of him away with me. I watched his adam's apple move as he swallowed his unspoken sadness.

Chapter Fourteen

“Never have I ever been arrested,” Danny said with a smirk. We all looked around the circle to see Sam was the only one to put a finger down. 

“Oh shit!” Riley yelled out. “Take a drink!” Sam flipped Danny off as he took a sip from his bottle of tequila. I was enjoying my second glass of wine while sitting between my best friend and my lover. We had polished off the pizza that Abby ordered and now we were playing our first round of drinking games. Life was good on the living room floor. 

“Never have I ever had a sibling,” Riley voiced when it was her turn. 

“Nice,” I said as we touched our glasses like we were making a toast. Being only children was something we had in common and was one of the reasons we got along so well. We were each other’s chosen sisters. Everyone else in the room put a finger down. I had the most fingers still up which was only an embarrassing indicator that everyone else had lived more fulfilling lives than me. It was now my turn and I was trying to think of something that would wipe people out.

“Never have I ever been pulled over,” I said. Fingers went down across the room except for Danny and Maddie. “Drink up!” I said as I raised my glass to everyone else.

“Never have I ever gone to college,” Josh said with a shrug. Every girl in the room put a finger down and the guys cheered as we all had to take a drink. 

“Never have I ever been engaged,” Abby said with a tone that I could have slapped her for. It was obviously directed at Riley and me as everyone else in the room was obviously unmarried. Did she pick up on the vibes between Josh and me? What was she trying to prove? Riley and I both put a finger down and in that moment, I realized I wasn’t even wearing my ring. 

“Ok, that was targeted,” Riley said. “Helloooo? It’s my fucking bachelorette weekend!” Everyone laughed but I noticed a rigid shift in Jake’s body language when I put my finger down. He was staring at Josh with a look I couldn’t quite place, but he looked pissed. Sam had one finger left and the look on Jake’s face showed he was done playing the game.

“Never have I ever eaten tofu,” Jake said with a raise of his glass in Sam’s direction.

“Ah, man, come on!” Sam said as he put his last finger down. 

“Loserrrrrrr!” Abby drunkenly yelled out. “Chug! Chug! Chug!” She began to chant. While everyone in the room watched Sam take a shot straight from the bottle, I saw Jake get up from the circle and make his way into the kitchen. Josh gave me a wink before he jumped up to follow his brother. I wondered what discussion was about to take place; what I would have given to be a fly on the wall to have heard it. 

When they made their way back into the room to join the party, I could sense something was off with Josh. They hadn’t been gone very long, and I’m sure nobody even noticed their absence because Sam was now shuffling the cards for a new game. Josh noticed my empty wine glass and grabbed it without saying a word. He returned back to the kitchen and I hesitated on whether I should have followed him or not. But the stern look on Jake’s face was almost like a warning to stay away from Josh, so I stayed put. 

“Everyone needs six cards,” Sam stated as he started to deal out the deck of cards. Josh returned with a now full glass of wine for me and I accepted it. I tried to read his face but it was impossible. He took his seat next to me and I reached out to touch his hand, but he pulled it away before I had the opportunity. He reached out for his cards from Sam and then I did the same. 

I couldn’t focus on the rules of the game that Sam was half-ass explaining. I was too fixated on the sudden change in Josh’s mood after his talk with Jake. Something was clearly off about him and I wanted to know what was going on. 

“Did you get that?” Riley leaned over and asked me.

“Huh?” I said.

“Were you listening to the rules?” She asked.

“Oh, yeah,” I said. That wasn’t even close to being true. I had no idea what game we were playing because I wasn’t paying any attention.

“Ok… Then why are you still holding all six of your cards?” Riley asked with a puzzled expression. I looked around to see everyone had laid one of their cards face down in front of them. I had no idea what the point of the game was, so I just pulled one from my pile and placed it in front of me.

“Ok, one… two… flip!” Sam yelled. All at once, everyone turned their chosen card over. I followed suit even though I didn’t have a clue as to what game we were playing. 

“Strawberry, why the hell did you play two of hearts?” Danny asked while laughing.

“I–I don’t know,” I said, visibly confused

“Ok, you obviously lost. Drink!” Abby yelled. I still had no idea what the fuck I was supposed to be doing, so I just drank my wine.

Josh leaned over to whisper in my ear, “You were supposed to play your highest card that round.” Wonderful. I probably looked dumb as hell.

All of a sudden, Sam jumped up and started singing, “Two of hearts, two hearts that beat as one. Two of hearts…” into his bottle of tequila now disguised as a makeshift microphone. And like two peas in a pod, Danny jumped up to dance with him singing background vocals: “I need you, I need you.” The two of them definitely stole everyone’s attention as they performed the 80’s hit in the living room. It was nice to see both Josh and Jake smiling again. I wished Danny and Sam knew how grateful I was for them at this moment. They brought a kind of energy that I wished I could bottle up and harvest as my own.

The boys’ performance distracted everyone from the card game that I never actually learned the rules to, so I could tell the night was winding down. I was actually feeling a little tired and I just wanted to be alone with Josh. I could tell he was still a little off compared to his normal self, but I decided to wait until we were alone to talk to him about it.

I finished my glass of wine and then started cleaning up the Airbnb while everyone was hanging out in the living room. Everybody seemed to have a good buzz; I was thankful nobody got absolutely shitfaced. Nothing ruins a party quicker than someone who needs a babysitter, bodyguard, or both. I made my way into the kitchen to start throwing away empty pizza boxes and putting dirty dishes in the dishwasher. We didn’t even touch half of the alcohol that the boys brought. The bottle of the Oklahoma bourbon sat half empty on the counter. I stared at it wondering if or how I could tell Josh that they were about to do business with my fiancé, or maybe soon-to-be ex-fiancé. I knew my third glass of wine had me feeling bold when the possibility of me leaving Kenneth crossed my mind.

“Need a hand?” I heard a somewhat unfamiliar voice ask. I turned to see Jake standing in the entryway of the kitchen. 

“Sure, thank you,” I said, trying not to look too surprised to see him. I continued to load the dishwasher with dirty plates and glasses. He walked into the kitchen and stood next to me.

“Here,” he said as he handed me his empty glass. I recognized the smell of the bourbon immediately.

“Thanks,” I said as I grabbed it. I could tell he was wanting to talk to me because he wasn’t actually doing any cleaning. I held my breath until he finally had the courage to speak.

“I know you don’t know me, but I know my brother. He’s the most important person in my life. So what I’m about to say to you, I ask that you keep that in mind,” he started. I continued holding my breath because I didn’t like the sound of where this was going. “I think you two don’t need to spend the night together.”

I didn’t have any more dirty dishes left in the sink to place in the dishwasher, but I felt like I needed something to occupy myself while I tried to process Jake’s words. I started twisting all of the caps on the bottles of liquor and placing them back in the brown paper bags. He continued to speak, “It’s not a good idea for either of you, especially given your situation. I know Josh’s views on marriage, and while I don’t share those same views, I think he should respect other people’s commitments.”

“I’m not married,” I finally spoke.

“No, but you are engaged to be,” he added. “And I am not judging you at all. I don’t know you or your situation, but I do know my brother. I’m just afraid he’s going to get hurt.” I was shocked at this admission. Jake thought Josh was the one going to be hurt? He had no clue. Josh was the one keeping his guard up and setting clear boundaries with me. It was me who was practically sick over the idea of never seeing him again in a mere couple of days. 

“I really appreciate you talking to me about this. I can see how much you care about him,” I began. “Your brother has taught me more about myself in these past few days than I would have ever learned on my own. And while I dread going back home and saying goodbye to him, I am thankful for the time that we have had together. I value your opinion, but I’m not ready to cut that time short.”

“And you don’t have to,” Josh’s voice interrupted. I quickly turned around to find that he had been eavesdropping on my conversation with Jake. I wondered how much he had heard. 

“I was just relaying to Strawberry what I had already talked with you about,” Jake said while holding his arms up like he had been caught doing something illegal. 

“We are both consenting adults capable of making our own decisions,” Josh said.

“I understand that. I just wanted you both to hear where I’m coming from,” Jake added. He started collecting the unopened beer bottles from the fridge and placing them back in the empty cardboard drink carriers. I dried my hands and left the two of them alone to finish their conversation, even though it seemed like Josh didn’t want to be there. I walked back into the living room to find Abby on her phone, Maddie and Danny were deep into a conversation about music, Riley was braiding Brooke’s hair, and Sam was picking up the playing cards off the floor. 

“I think Jake packed up all of the booze, so I guess the party's over,” I said with a nervous laugh. 

“Are y’all good to drive?” Riley asked.

“Y’all,” Sam imitated her southern accent with a laugh. “Sorry,” he shyly added when he realized what he had just done.

“Yes, I am good to drive,” Danny added, giving a somewhat stern look to Sam.

“Josh is staying here, right?” Sam asked.

“Why would Josh stay here?” Abby asked. I immediately looked at Sam to communicate that he had just fucked up.

“I joke, I joke,” Sam added with a wild laugh. I glanced at Riley who shot me a confused look. I could tell she was trying to think of a way to cover for Sam’s blunder but was drawing a blank.

“Do you need us to take the trash out?” Danny asked while standing up.

“No, I think we’re good. We appreciate it though,” Maddie said. I could see she was blushing. It was easy to see why. Danny was one of the most handsome men I had ever laid eyes on. He could have been a Greek God in a past life. I felt my phone vibrate in my back pocket. I grabbed it to read a text from Plagiarism: “I’m going to help load the car up and I’ll come back inside when everyone is gone.” 

“You guys ready?” Jake said as he entered the living room. Josh was standing behind him carrying two sacks of alcohol. I subtly waved my phone at him to indicate that I had seen his text. Now we just had to play the waiting game until the girls went to bed which hopefully would be soon. I was sick of playing games–figuratively and literally.

Chapter Fifteen

After what felt like waiting for an eternity but was probably closer to 30 minutes, I texted Josh to let him know it was time for him to come back. I sent “The coast is clear” as I waited for him by the front door. I had to chuckle thinking of his “we are two consenting adults” comment from earlier because we’ve been acting like two teeangers sneaking around every night. It was fun and thrilling in the most ridiculous way possible. Even though we had spent all evening in each other’s presence, I didn’t feel like we had any alone time. I was looking forward to spending the night together with nobody around to interfere. I locked the front door and I reached for his hand. 

“This one is wounded, remember?” Josh said while switching hands so I was now holding the unbandaged one. “I could have bled to death and you wouldn’t have lifted a finger,” he said dramatically as he held up his free hand.

“You literally refused help from a medical professional, so your blood is on your hands…Literally,” I said with a laugh. We quietly walked down the hallway until we got to my bedroom. I made sure to be the one to shut the door and lock it so we wouldn’t have any surprise guests again in the morning. 

“Are you and Jake good?” I asked as we sat on the edge of my bed.

“Yes, of course,” he said as he turned his body to face mine.

“I can tell you mean a lot to him. I couldn’t imagine having a twin. Hell, I don’t even know what it’s like to have a sibling!” I said with a shrug. Growing up as an only child wasn’t the worst thing to happen to me, but not having a sibling definitely contributed to the loneliness in which I feel now. 

“Jake knows me better than anyone, so I will always listen to his guidance. But I also needed him to realize that I am free to make my own choices,” he said as the corners of his mouth turned to smile. I got a flashback to my conversation with Riley from earlier today when we made up. I knew exactly what he meant.

“Did you guys have a good time tonight? It went better than I expected, honestly,” I said.

“Oh yeah, I think so. I mean, I was secretly wishing we would have called it a night hours ago,” he said with a smirk. “I would have rather been with you right here the whole night.” I bit my lip trying to hide my smile. I wanted nothing more than to kiss him, but our conversation from earlier still lingered in the back of my mind.

“So,” I paused. “This bourbon partnership…”

“Yes?” Josh asked, waiting for me to continue. I wanted to be honest with him but I also didn’t want to interfere with his life more than I already had. He planned never to see me again after I left, so would it even matter to him? 

“I’m very familiar with that brand,” I said while nervously smoothing my hands across the bed.

“Oh? I thought you weren’t much of a bourbon fan?” He said laughing. “You really should give it a try. It’s the best, smoothest one I’ve ever had. It’s why we’re so passionate about collaborating with them.”

“Yeah, I actually–” I began when Josh’s phone started to ring. 

“Who the hell is calling me at one a.m.?” He asked as he reached over to grab his phone off the nightstand. He checked the screen and then whispered, “Sorry, I need to take this.” He jumped up off the bed and made his way to the corner of the room. He was still in earshot, but I didn’t see who had called him. 

“What are you talking about?” Josh asked the mystery caller. I panicked watching him pace back and forth across the front of the room. I could sense something was wrong.

“What TikTok?” He questioned. TikTok? I continued to watch him pace until he stopped and rubbed his hand over his face.

“I mean, we partied with some friends tonight but nobody did anything worth getting upset over,” he said into the phone. I wished I knew what was going on. I was trying to put pieces together but it was difficult with only hearing one part of the conversation. I had the idea to do some investigating myself. I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and I opened TikTok. I searched for Greta Van Fleet and scrolled until I could find anything remotely getting upset about at one in the morning. 

“It’s not a big deal,” Josh said with a sigh. “Maybe we can have her take it down.” I watched him as he rubbed the back of his neck. My heart started to race. What was he talking about? Who was he talking about?

“Yeah, it’s always all over Twitter,” Josh said with another deep sigh. I immediately closed out of my TikTok app and opened Twitter to see if I could find what he was talking about. I searched for Greta Van Fleet and my eyes couldn’t believe what they were seeing. There was a video of Sam and Danny singing “Two of Hearts” clearly taken in our Airbnb living room from earlier. To make matters worse, you could see me sitting between Riley and Josh in the background for a brief moment. Bewildered, I read several hundred tweets that posted the video or screenshots from it. No, no, no, no, this cannot be happening. I skimmed through tweets as I felt my blood getting cold. People had screenshotted the glimpse of Riley and me from the video and posted our picture with comments such as, “Who are these bitches?!” and “Anyone know who these girls are?” I started to feel ill as I realized my face was circulating around different forms of social media. 

I racked my brain trying to figure out who posted it because I couldn’t remember anyone being on their phone. I studied the angle and background of the video until it hit me: Abby must have recorded this and posted it. I noticed a TikTok username in the video, so I went back to my TikTok app to search for her account directly. Once I found her profile, I could see this latest video had over 10,000 views yet it hadn’t even been up for two hours. The caption read “Wild night in Nashville with Danny and Sam” and the comments were full of Greta Van Fleet fans clearly losing their shit. There was no way Abby knew who they were, right? 

I wanted to bust up into Abby’s room to kill her, but I figured that would just make things worse being charged with murder and all. I was going to demand that she delete the video, but I knew I would need Riley’s assistance because I doubted Abby would do anything I asked. I jumped up from the bed to go wake Riley up. When I started to make my way out of the room, Josh reached out and grabbed my arm.

“Hey, I gotta go,” he said into the phone. “Yeah, yeah, it will be alright,” he said again before hanging up. I stayed there in his grasp but as soon as he put his phone in his pocket, I started to move again.

“Slow down, where are you going?” Josh asked.

“I’m going to get Riley so she can kick Abby’s ass!” I practically yelled.

“Nobody needs their ass kicked,” Josh said, pulling me close to him.

“Actually, Abby could use a good one,” I said while my face was buried into his chest. “We literally talked about how nobody needed to post on social media before you guys got here.”

“Our management team is mad, but nobody in the band is. Not even Jake, surprisingly,” Josh said with a light laugh. I pulled away from him so I could study his face. 

“What does your team say?” I asked.

“Well, besides the fact that we were clearly hanging out in a living room with random girls, they are most concerned about the bottle of tequila in Sam’s hand,” he said with a shrug.

“What? You guys aren’t allowed to drink on camera or something?” I asked as my eyebrows furrowed.

“No, I believe that ship has sailed,” he said with a laugh. “It’s just we are in the works to launch that bourbon collaboration so now my team is worried about Sam holding a bottle of another brand of alcohol. I think they’re reading too much into it,” Josh said as he rubbed my forearms. Shit, I didn’t even think about that. I wasn’t sure how much detective work their fans would do analyzing the video, but I’m sure the fiancée of the bourbon company’s owner being in the video would be the icing on the cake. If the company even sees the video, I just hope it doesn’t make its way up the chain of command because Kenneth will recognize Riley and me instantly. 

“I need to go talk to Riley,” I said as I started to pull away.

“Wait,” Josh said, not letting me go. 

“Josh, Riley and I are in the background of the video. We need it to be taken down before someone identifies us,” I said. 

“I hate to tell you this, Strawberry, but I’m sure some of our fans already found out your family tree, place of employment, and blood type,” he said with a laugh. “Even if Abby deletes it, the video is online forever.” I wasn’t laughing. Instead, I felt like I was going to puke. With all of my might, I pulled away from Josh’s embrace and marched out the bedroom door to find Riley’s room.

“I’m gonna kill Abby!” I yelled as I entered her bedroom and turned on the lights.

“What the fuck?” Riley yelled as she pulled the covers over her eyes.

“Get the bail money ready because I’m going to jail tonight for kicking Abby’s ass!” I said as I made my way over to her bed with my phone in my hand. I pulled Riley’s covers off of her and shoved my phone in her face. 

“Look at this shit!” I yelled again. I watched Riley’s expression go from confused to enraged as she watched the “Two of Hearts” performance on TikTok. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Abby said through gritted teeth. 

“Josh’s management team called him about it. It’s all over TikTok, Twitter, probably more. I’ve already seen several tweets with screenshots of our faces wanting to know who these bitches are!” I exclaimed.

“Who are these bitches calling a bitch?” Riley asked as she started to get out of bed. I bit my tongue because I was too mad to laugh at her right now.

“I need you to take care of this with Abby because I will kill her,” I said.

“I can’t believe she would do this,” Riley said, making her way to leave the room.

“I can,” I said under my breath. I left Riley’s bedroom to return back to Josh who was waiting in mine. I left the bedroom door open so we could hopefully hear Riley confront Abby. 

“I promise it’s not a big deal,” Josh said while sitting on the bed. 

“It is to me,” I said as I got closer to the doorway to try to hear their conversation better. I was a little annoyed that Josh wasn’t as concerned about the video like I was, but I guess he’s used to his every move being watched and scrutinized by strangers. Surely he remembered what it was like before he was famous. Then again, from the limited research I did on the band, it seemed like this is the life he’s had ever since he was a teenager. I continued to eavesdrop even though it was hard to make out what the girls were saying. Suddenly, I heard the voices getting louder and before I knew it, Abby and Riley were in my doorway.

“What the hell is he still doing here?” Abby asked when she noticed Josh.

“Let’s start with why you posted that TikTok after we talked about not posting on social media tonight,” I responded. I would be damned if I became the one on trial.

“I didn’t think it would turn into what it did. Why didn’t anyone say these guys were–oh, I don’t know–famous?” Abby asked with a mocking tone.

“There are people online trying to figure out Riley’s and my identity right now because of this, Abby!” I exclaimed. 

“I didn’t think it would get more than my usual 100 views. I didn’t know they were famous! How is that my fault?” Abby asked, still refusing to take a sliver of responsibility. I imagined myself punching her in the face. I could feel my nails digging into my palms, so I knew I needed to relax before I did something I would regret.

“It’s your fault because you posted after we asked you not to,” Riley interjected.

“Or is this really because you don’t want people to know about what’s going on here between you two?” Abby asked while waving her finger at Josh and me. 

“Can I speak?” Josh voiced from behind me. I had almost forgotten he was there because I was consumed with my thoughts of strangling Abby. 

“Of course,” Riley said.

“I think everyone needs to take a breath for a moment. Abby, I’m sorry we kept our band a secret. We just wanted to hangout and feel like normal people tonight. It’s not your fault that your video somehow was discovered by our fans and got shared all over the internet. Riley and Strawberry, I’m sorry your picture is now on public display. Our band will post something outrageous tomorrow and it will all be forgotten within 48 hours. You should see some of the shit Sam has saved in the drafts. I promise it will blow over in a day or two,” he said so quietly I could barely hear him. I wanted to kiss him right then and there.

“I did delete the video from TikTok,” Abby said.

“Thank you,” Josh said with a sigh of relief. 

“So you’re not sorry for—” I began to say.

“Let’s all just go to bed and worry about this tomorrow,” Riley said.

“Yeah, I better get going,” Josh said as he stood up. I instantly felt my heart shatter into a million pieces.

“Are you good to walk him out and lock the front door?” Riley asked me. I was trying everything in my power not to burst into tears. 

“Yes,” I said while swallowing the lump in my throat. I watched Abby and Riley leave my bedroom. I stayed turned around with my back to Josh because I didn’t want him to see me cry. Suddenly, I felt his arms wrap around my waist and his chest was against my back. He buried his face into my neck and I lost the battle of holding back my tears. I felt the warm drops of liquid make their way down my cheeks. 

“Why are you leaving?” I asked while my bottom lip quivered. I still had my back to him but I knew that he knew I was crying. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to stay the night now. Tensions are high. We don’t need Abby getting the wrong idea, and–”

“Fuck Abby!” I said as I released a sob.Yep, he definitely knew I was crying now. 

“I also need to make a couple phone calls to make sure this will all be smoothed over tomorrow–well, today, technically–it’s already after two,” Josh said while his forehead rested on my shoulder. I couldn’t believe our second to last night together was now ruined. I continued to cry as he held me. I felt his lips kiss my neck as he made his way up to my ear.

“Tomorrow night, I am all yours. I promise,” he said in a whisper. I lifted my hands to my face to wipe the tears away. I moved his arms from my waist and headed toward the exit of the bedroom. 

“Come on, I’ll walk you out,” I said, never turning around to see his face.

I laid in bed scrolling through Twitter reading the hundreds of tweets talking about Abby’s video. Even though I felt immense amounts of sadness while I laid in bed alone, I did have to admit that some tweets made me smile. The ones about Sam and Danny especially made me laugh. Some of their fans have quite a sense of humor while some sounded like they needed to talk to a mental health professional. I kept scrolling hoping that my eyelids would get heavy and I could sleep, but I was too stressed out. I got up to get into my medicine bag to take some melatonin. It was nearly three in the morning and I wanted nothing more than to sleep this entire day off. From fighting with Riley, to fighting with Abby, and now Josh changing his mind about staying over, I was so mentally drained. I closed out all of the apps on my phone, put it on DND mode, and flipped it face down on the nightstand. 

I held my pillow tight wishing it were Josh that I was holding right now. I was so tired of crying, but I felt the pillow getting soaked with my tears. I inhaled deep breaths trying to think of anything other than the fact that I would soon be losing him for good. I reminded myself that we still had one more night together, so I tried to cling to that glimmer of hope as I allowed myself to rest.

[hopefulstarfire]

Have a little fortuit drabble for and requested by @kohakuhime because they give me serotonin constantly and I love them dearly they're my comfort ship.

It was nice to have a quiet day to themselves.

Snow was gently falling still, down towards the already thick blanket that had built up the night day before. Raphael had a fire going in the fireplace, helping to warm up the house and he was currently stationed in the kitchen, serving up a fresh pot of his mother's hot cocoa to warm his and Ellies hearts and hands while they worked.

Christmas was coming. They still had about a little over a week left, with all their shopping thankfully and finally finished. The kids had gotten up bright and early that morning, Sylvie going wide eyed at the snow day that was all set to be had with their cousins. It was his and Ellies day to get the house to themselves to wrap presents; Alister and Iris had had theirs a few days prior and Serenity and Valon had theirs before them. They had rotated who would have the honor of babysitting all the kids together to be able to give each set of parents the time and space to work...and get some proper cute, quality time together. Currently, Serenity and Valon had all of them and there was no doubt in his mind that Valon had kicked off a massive snowball war and enacting some form of chaos in Domino Park.

There was only so much he himself or that Rowen could do to keep things wrangled in. He had to have faith that between him and Serenity it would be enough to cancel out Valon.

Raphael topped the mugs with mini marshmallows -- sparingly in his own, and more in Ellies mug -- and looped his hands through the handles to carry them off to the living room.

Two stacks of neatly wrapped presents were sat a couple feet apart from each other, ones being from him and Ellie to various people on one side and the presents from Santa to the kids on the other. A third, now dwindlingly smaller pile of the still unwrapped presents rested by her folded legs.

She was focused in on wrapping the current present, one they'd bought for Joey, in the same way she usually did while working on clothes; her brows furrowed ever so slightly, as a gentle care was put in towards folding the wrapping paper as she kept the cutout lines virtually seamless and the ends as neatly tucked as possible.

A little over a decade into their marriage and it was still just as cute as it was the first time she fell into a concentration state with her seamstress work. He often still quietly questioned how he ever got so lucky to have ever gotten her love, but he certainly cherished it.

He held the mug out in front of her face, drawing her attention away from the wrapping process for a brief moment as she took it, eyes shimmering with adoration. "Thank you, sweetheart."

"It wouldn't a snow day without my mothers hot cocoa." He mused, coming to sit next to her. He rested his mug on the table in front of him; Ellie took a long sip and sat it down next to his. Lifting up one of the presents, he unfurled a tube of the wrapping paper, nestling it down on the ground to pick his work back up.

Ellie finished wrapping Joey's, pressing the tag onto the top left corner and wrote down to whom it was for and who it was from in a bit of a swirled font, and then gently pushed it over to the leftmost pile. "We've made some really good progress in such a short amount of time," she hummed, happily. "We only have a couple more!" She turned, looking over her shoulder back at him before letting out a soft giggle. "Well, those and one more. I still have your present to wrap."

Hers was already done; a couple of days ago while she'd been out with the girls, Rowen and Sylvie both wanted to help wrap her present from them and offered to help with his to her. It was a little wonky looking, more crumpled towards the ends and decorated with several bows, but, that simply just gave it character.

His expression softened, a light in his deep blue eyes as he looked at her. A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest as he shook his head. "You already gave me my present, though."

Ellie cocked her head on question. No, she very much had not and she'd taken great care to hide it. "What do you mean, sweetheart?"

If you had told Raphael Knighton fifteen years ago he had turned sappy and had his edges softened, he would have laughed a cruel laugh. But now...

"It's the same present I get it every year." He told her, keeping her eyes locked on his as he subtly grabbed something off the table.

Raphael scooted forward, his unoccupied hand going to cup her cheek as he smiled at her; her, his world, his love, his person, his guiding light. The woman who willingly kept choosing him and staying by his side through everything, regardless of his past and his grave mistakes. He kissed her softly, lovingly, and took it as his opportunity to nestle the sparkly red bow on her head.

They pulled away after a moment and Ellie reached up, feeling the ribbon and her cheeks flushed a soft pink at realization as he chuckled once again, resting his forehead against hers.

"You. You're one of the best presents I get every single year."

[bucksfucks]

messing with a gemini | chris evans

gif credit.

SUMMARY || chris is a gemini, so you should expect nothing less than snide remarks, witty charm, and mind-blowing sex.

PAIRING || chris evans x reader

WORD COUNT || 1,902 words

WARNINGS || banter, teasing, cocky!chris, definite praise kink, light choking kink, chris goes down on the reader, fingering, oral, drinking, unprotected sex, both smutty, soft, and teasing — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI

NOTES || mmmmgmmgmgmgmgmg yeah

     The sound of the door shutting can only mean one thing.

    “Look what the cat dragged in,” you greet him, not turning around to face him.

    “Sweetheart if you don’t learn to shut that pretty little mouth of yours, I’ll do it for you.”

    Another snide remark, another sly smirk, and another roll of your eyes as Chris slides past you with a cup of tea in his hands.

    “You couldn’t make me if you tried.” You spat back, narrowing your eyes at him as you watched him quirk an eyebrow; intrigued at your comment.

    “Is that a challenge? Because you know I never back down from you.” He replies cooly, folding his arms over his chest before taking a sip of his hot drink.

    “Ah yes, how could I forget,” you feign enthusiasm, “you’re a Gemini.” You deadpan and now it’s his turn to roll his eyes.

    He kicks his foot off the wall behind him, “you didn’t answer my question, sweetheart.” He winks, brushing past your shoulder as you scoff.

    He’s gonna out of your sight before you have the chance to say anything else, letting out an exasperated sigh as you will yourself to calm down.

    “Hey!” Someone shouts through the trailer door, “can you run down to makeup for backup?” You don’t get to answer.

    “Thanks!”

    Before whoever it was slammed the door shut and you let out another frustrated groan.

    You knew what you signed up for, you weren’t head of makeup. You weren’t even assistant head. No, you were one of the nobodies.

    Someone they hire to run from one end of set to the other only to get yelled at for not having enough brushes or the right shade of a palette.

    It was almost poetic.

    “Hey, I’m here, what did you guys need?” You ask as you put on a fake smile and enter the makeup trailer.

    The trailer where Chris is sat getting his hair done.

    Your blood boiled, wasn’t he supposed to be a charmer? A sweetheart? Maybe he was just really getting into character?

    “Can you sweep the floor and make sure there’s no more hair?”

    You had to physically fight the urge to drop your face, “sure!”

    You grabbed the broom, feeling embarrassed as you quietly sunk into the background as you felt Chris’ eyes on you.

    A few medial, mind numbing tasks later and it was closing in on 2am. Your notification-less phone screen lit up the empty trailer you were left to clean up.

    Not that you really minded.

    You find solace in the only time of the day where things seem to slow down. You also didn’t hate being alone where you could listen to music and clean hairbrushes.

    “So this is what you do after we cut.” The sound of Chris’ laugh startles you as you let out a soft yelp.

    He has a soft smile on his face, almost unrecognizable without his beard.

    “I thought I was alone,” you reply meekly, turning the volume lower on your phone as Chris shook his head.

    “Oh, I know,” he laughs, “I don’t think anyone would be belting out Queen like that if they didn’t think they were alone.”

    Once again, you feel embarrassed in front of him, shaking your head.

    “Whatever,” you try to brush it off. “Did you need something?” You ask as he shakes his head.

    “I was just checkin’ in on you.” He replies and you’re a little taken aback.

    “Oh, well thanks, but I’m okay. Just finishing up cleaning.” You said with a tight lipped smile and a nod of your head.

    Chris stands there for a second, shoving his hands into his pockets as he looks over his shoulder before clearing his throat.

    “Well uh, some of the cast and crew are havin’ some drinks and pizza later, if you wanted to tag along.”

    The invite makes your stomach drop into your lower belly as you open your mouth.

    You have to take a moment to formulate the words.

    “It’s getting pretty late, I think I’m just gonna head back to my hotel room. Parties aren’t really my thing.” You joke, lightening the mood as Chris cracks a smile.

    “Sure thing, sweetheart. The invites always there,” he says before turning on his heels and leaving you to yourself.

    Chris Evans was an enigma that you didn’t think you’d ever crack.

~

    The soft knock at your door caused your neck to snap in its direction, uncrossing your legs as you slid off the too big hotel bed and looked through the peep hole.

    It was hard to make out the figure, but it looked like...no, it couldn’t be.

    “Chris?” His name slipped through your lips as you opened the door.

    He beamed a smile as he held up a case of beer and box of pizza.

    “Turns out, parties aren’t my thing either.”

    You couldn’t help but chuckle as you moved aside to let him in.

    “And you decided that coming to my room at,” you had to check the time, “3:16 in the morning was the logical thing to do?”

    He set everything down on the coffee table before hopping onto your bed, “yup.”

    You had to roll your eyes as you laughed, closing and locking the door as you stepped in front of him.

    “C’mon kid,” oh, why did that do something to you?

    “You work hard every day of the week, you deserve one night to not care about anything.” His words were gentle as he stood up to grab a beer.

    “Want one?” He asked, holding a beer up as you replayed his words.

    “Sure,” he was right, you do deserve a break.

    You both took a seat on the small, uncomfortable couch in the room as you took a sip. Well, it was beer.

    “So,” you broke the silence, “the Chris Evans doesn’t like parties?” You quirked an amused eyebrow as he laughed.

    “Maybe I wanted to escape to see you, is that so bad?” He said, licking his bottom lip; not breaking eye contact.

    You shook your head, “such a fucking Gemini,” you mumble as Chris smirks.

    “What did I say about that smart mouth of yours?” He eggs you on, leaning forward and giving your knee a squeeze.

    “I don’t remember.” You bite back, feeling your heart kicking in your chest as you feel his breath fanning over your face.

    “Maybe I should teach you a lesson or two then, hmm?” He purrs, running his free hand up your neck and resting it there.

    “I dare you,” you mumble, transfixed on the feeling of his warm hands on you.

    The dominos fall and Chris’ lips are meshed with yours, the faint taste of beer on them as you wrap your fingers in the collar of his shirt.

    “You know I never back down from a challenge,” he murmurs against your lips before taking you by the hand and leading you to the bed.

    He pushes you onto it, the sheets around you as the weight of Chris’ body pushed you further into it.

    “Ah ah,” he tsks when you let out a soft moan, “I thought I told you to keep quiet for me.”

    You swallow thickly, throat dry and lips parted as you gasp when you can feel the weight of him between your hips.

    “Can you do that for me, sweetheart? Can you be a good girl?” He purrs, absolutely knowing what it does to you as you writhe under him. 

    “Good,” he hums. “Now let’s see how good you are when I’m between your legs makin’ then shake.”

    His wink doesn’t go unnoticed by you as your clothes are shed, his coming off until he’s left in nothing but his boxers.

    There’s little left to the imagination, the outline of his cock clear as he wraps his hands around your ankles and tugs you down to the end of the bed.

    You yelp, sliding off the pillows as he sinks to his knees, hungry eyes just waiting to taste you.

    “Look at you,” he cooes, “drippin’ at the thought of me between your thighs?” He mocks, cocking his head to side as he keeps your legs open.

    Chaste kisses are pressed to your inner thighs, gently as you try to stop the plea’s that are begging to slip past your mouth.

    “You’re bein’ so patient for me too, good girl.” He praises, he breath over your core is hot as you grab for his hair.

    The feeling of his tongue makes you moan and squeeze your legs around his head.

    “Mmm,” he hums, “that good already?”

    If he wasn’t buried between your legs you might’ve, just might’ve had the courage to roll your eyes.

    His fingers tease your entrance as his mouth works over your clit.

    There’s no holding back now.

    You don’t care how loud you’re being, giving into the sensation as he works you to the edge, your legs shaking.

    “You wanna come, don’t you, pretty girl?” Yes, God, yes.

    “Well that’s too bad,” he taunts making you let out a whine.

    “Not until I’m buried deep ‘side of you,” he grunts, quickly stripping off the rest of his clothes until he’s crawling back over you with a condom in his hand.

    You’re still dizzy, slightly angry from your denied orgasm, but wanting nothing more than to feel him stretching you out.

    “You think you’re ready for my cock,” he smirks teasingly as you feel him at your entrance.

    You whine, bringing his lips to your but he stops you at the last second.

    “Uh uh baby, I wanna hear you beg for it.” He taunts, nose brushing yours.

    “Fuck,” you whimper, “please, just fuck me.” You beg, eyes meeting his.

    That’s all he needs before he’s slowly sinking into you, watching your face contort in immeasurable pleasure.

    “Feel so fuckin’ good,” he grunts, “so tight and warm.”

    Your fingers dig into his speckled back, finding your ground as you dig into the soft skin as he thrusts into you.

    Suddenly, the only think you can think about is how good this feels.

    “My pretty girl,” he whispers, bending your one leg at the knee to get a deeper angle.

    “Takin’ my cock so goddamn well,” he grunts, “gonna make me come.”

    His words send a shiver down your spine as your walls flutter around him. He drops on one of his elbows, getting impossibly close to you.

    “You’re gonna come too, aren’t you, sweetheart?” He teases, lips on yours swallowing every moan before you feel a hand around your throat.

    “Look at me when you come, baby,” he purrs, applying just the slightest amount of pressure to the column of your throat.

    “Wanna see you come for me,” he smirks, his thrusts getting harsher before you feel yourself giving into your orgasm.

    Your body shakes as your mouth falls open, his name a breathy moan before you feel his hips stuttering.

    He sounds exhausted after he spills inside of you, tumbling on top of you as you’re left in sweaty silence as you’re left with nothing to do but run your fingers through his dampened hair.

    “Gemini or not, you’re what made me weak in the knees, sweetheart.” Chris whispers, eyes on yours as you feel a flutter in your heart.

    “There’s somethin’ about you that I won’t ever grow tired of, that I’m sure about.”

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Civilian

Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jason Todd is used to saving the innocent. But he’s not used to them saving him. 

Word Count: 3,100 – One Shot

“Fuck me,” Jason groaned as he stumbled across the rooftops.

How he was able to even walk right now was beyond him.

He had Slade on the ropes. Just one more punch to put him off balance and Jason would’ve shoved a knife into his jugular and be done with him. But Slade had a few more tricks up his sleeve and decided to flee instead of finish a losing battle, so he ran like a coward. 

It left Jason utterly irritated and with a huge gash in his side, amongst other various injuries. 

He could’ve called one his “friends” or someone in his “family.” But he was stubborn. He wanted to be stronger than that. He wanted to prove that he didn’t need any of them. He was better than that. He was the best. And he’d risk bleeding out to prove it to them – or really…himself.

But his body wasn’t on the same page.

And it finally had enough.

Jason stumbled to his knees on a rooftop. He groaned as his vision became hazy.

His helmet had a protective system in place so no one could take it off if he was unconscious. They’d get a nice little shock if they tried. His identity would be safe even if someone stumbled upon his injured body… or corpse.

Jason managed to roll onto his back and was met with the smoggy Gotham sky.

“Get the fuck up,” he told himself aloud.

He blinked, trying to straighten and clear his vision.

But it was useless.

The last thing Jason remember seeing was the Bat signal reflecting off of the cloudy sky. Somewhere in the city, there was more crime to fight and he’d just be another asshole who thought he could put a stop to it.

Dying didn’t scare Jason anymore. He’d done it once before, and he could do it again. What did it matter now anyway?

But Jason didn’t die.

He woke up on a couch. Well, if one could even call it that. His 6’4 frame could barely fit on the thing. His legs were hanging off the end, not able to comfortably fit on the thing.

His head felt like it was having the worse hangover of his life. When he opened his eyes, he blinked at the incoming sunlight. Then he realized he wasn’t looking through the programming of his Red Hood helmet.

Then he touched his face to realize that his backup domino mask had also been removed, leaving his identity exposed. 

His eyes widened in slight panic as he looked around.

He appeared to be a in a small apartment – normal, no threats detected.

Then Jason looked down to realize he wasn’t in his uniform. In fact, his chest was bare and he was only in his black briefs. His autopsy scars on full display.

But just half a foot away from him, his clothes were neatly folded into a pile on the edge of the coffee table. His two guns were sitting right next to them.

Whoever had brought him here clearly didn’t see him as a threat. Stupid on their part. There were about two dozen other weapons hiding in the crevices of his clothes too.

But the more concerning thing was that Jason didn’t have a single wound on his body. The giant gash to his side that had made him faint and nearly die from blood loss was nowhere to be found. After all these years, Jason was still figuring out the side effects from being dumped into the Lazarus pit. But this couldn’t be related, could it?

Suddenly there was the sound of the apartment door opening.

On instinct alone, Jason shot up, grabbed one of his guns, and found his target.

What he wasn’t expecting to find was a beautiful woman, probably only just a little bit younger than him, standing with a coffees in a carrier tray and a bag in the other hand. She had earbuds in, further disorienting her from such a welcome. Her eyes went wide and the rest of her body was completely frozen.

After a few seconds, she slowly tugged her headphones out.

“Is the gun really necessary?” She asked.

But Jason could tell from her body language that she was scared.

“Who the hell are you?”

She had enough courage to glare at his tone. “I’m the person who saved your life, asshole.”

“Yeah? And how exactly did you do that?”

She seemed to be getting less scared and more angry with every sentence Jason said.

“If you put the fucking gun down, I’ll tell you.”

Jason hesitated before finally putting it down. Then his behavior caught up to him. Here was this stranger, who was clearly innocent and had helped him…and his first thought was to point a gun at the poor thing.

“Sorry,” he finally gasped. “It’s…a habit.”

She just eyed him, neither rejecting or accepting his apology.

She sat on the love seat opposite of the couch that he’d taken over.

With an innocent look, she slowly put a coffee cup on the table and the bag.

“I’m not much of a cook… so I picked up breakfast. It’s just a black coffee. I figured you didn’t like anything fancy.” 

“T-Thank you,” he stuttered out, trying his best not to sound harsh.

Those words were strange coming out of his mouth. And Jason couldn’t figure out if it was because he’d completely lost his manners or there wasn’t anything someone had done for him lately that warranted any sort of thanks.

“I’m sorry about taking off your clothes,” she suddenly said. “I would’ve given you something. But…well…I don’t have anything even close to your size. Even my oversized clothing wouldn’t have fit.”

Jason was about to tell her it was OK, but she continued.

“Not that I would’ve even been able to put it on you. I hardly got your clothes off.”

Jason smirked at that. “Speaking of which, how the hell did you get my helmet off.”

“Yeah…I managed to get you to come to for a minute or so.” Then she shifted in her seat, clutching her coffee tighter as if it was a security blanket. “I honestly just asked you very nicely. I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone what you looked like. You were kind of just…a zombie or something and…took it off.”

Then he took her stature in. Jason knew he was a big guy. He was bigger than the majority of men. He’d only met a few women in his life that were taller than him, and they were all either Amazons or aliens.

This young woman was neither of those things.

“How did you get me off that roof?”

She laughed, seeing that he was trying to add it up in his head. “I’m definitely no Superman. My neighbor doesn’t have any other hobbies besides going to the gym. He owed me a favor.” Then her eyes widened. “Don’t worry, he didn’t see you without your helmet. He’s also sworn to secrecy.”

Jason shrugged. “It’s fine if he did. I can just kill him later.”

He saw her whole body tense up at that.

“Relax. I’m kidding.”

Her tension was released, but she didn’t find his joke very funny.

Then her eyes locked to the floor.

Jason took this chance to study her. 

Her hair was a bit of a mess. But there was still a halo around it as the sun shined from behind her. Her jeans were a bit baggy, but purposely so. She was wearing a band t-shirt that was so worn that there were a few holes in it.

Jason had to acknowledge that she was beautiful. But he had made note of that as soon as he’d pointed a gun at her.

“I ended last night with a life-threatening injury…amongst other things,” Jason said as he looked down at his body. “I woke up with not even a scratch on me. So why don’t you tell me how the hell that’s possible?”

She finally raised her gaze from the floor to him. Then she swallowed and clenched her jaw. It was clear she had been hoping for a scenario where Jason didn’t ask any questions, where he would just give his thanks and move on.

But she wasn’t that lucky. 

“Hey,” he said gently. “You’ve seen my face. You know who I am now. Whatever it is you’re scared to tell me, we’ll be even.”

She stared at him a bit longer before taking in a shaky breath. “I…umm…can do this thing.”

“Uh huh,” he encouraged.

“I can heal people by…umm…touching them?”

Jason sat back, letting the information settle. “Huh,” he said with small nod.

“I saved your life,” she told him. “All I ask in return is that you keep my secret.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he told her.

She nodded nervously, but didn’t seem fully convinced.

“What’s your name?” He asked her softly.

She looked unsure if she should tell him.

“I’m Jason. Jason Todd.” He offered to even the playing field.

She tilted her head, probably because she heard that name before. Everyone in Gotham had at some point. The tragic death of Bruce Wayne’s second adopted son. And then the dead son who had somehow come back, his death misidentified. There were hundreds of rumors about what really happened. But they all sounded ridiculous to her.

“Y/N,” she finally told him.

“Thank you for saving my life, Y/N.” He scratched the back of his neck. “But I have to ask why you did.”

After all, the neighborhood she lived in was weary of Gotham’s vigilantes. Some believed they were keeping them safe, while others thought they were just making things worse. It led to a general distrust of the masked heroes.

“They say the Red Hood used to be Robin,” she told him quietly.

“I don’t pay attention to what people say…”

Y/N leaned forward. “But is it true? Were you Robin back then?”

Jason ground his teeth together. “That was a lifetime ago.”

She watched him for a minute, working out whether she wanted to share something or not. 

“When I was a little girl, I was at the bank with my mom when a robbery went down. Things went bad and quick. They panicked, decided a little girl was the best hostage to grab. We barely got a few blocks away before Batman intervened. I was terrified, even of him. But Robin was with him…and he could tell I was scared. He wasn’t that much older than me, but he was so much braver. He held my hand until the police came. But even then I wouldn’t let go of him. So, he stayed with me until my mom got there.” She took in a deep and shaky breath. “It meant a lot to me.”

Jason controlled his expression, but he knew what she was talking about. He remembered that night. How he did was beyond him. But it didn’t feel long ago. He remembered thinking the little girl was pretty. 

Jason didn’t have a lot of friends back then. He came from the streets but lived in a mansion. He couldn’t figure out who he was back then. And it was hard to relate to other children. 

Back then, it was the most intimate interaction he had with someone his age. 

“Would you still have saved me last night even if I hadn’t been Robin?” 

This was all Y/N would get in terms of Jason admitting that he had been Robin that night.

Y/N shrugged and nodded. Then she cleared her throat. “The only thing saving this shit hole of a city is people doing the right thing.”

Jason stood.

The motion startled Y/N and she followed his action without even meaning to.

Now that he was standing on his own two feet, she truly understood just how absolutely massive he was. She was by no means short and she still felt like she was looking at a giant.

However, Jason misread her gawking for something else. “You don’t have to be scared of me, kid. I’m not going to hurt you,” he told her quietly.

“I’m not scared of you,” she said as her face suddenly felt hot.

Y/N didn’t know what she had expected to see under that red helmet last night. But she definitely wasn’t expecting a man handsome enough to be a model.

But then her brow scrunched, “And I’m not a kid.” Jason smiled – like, genuinely smiled. The muscles on his face forgot what that felt like.

He eyed the band t-shirt she was wearing: Fleetwood Mac – the Rumors album, to be precise.

“You’ve got good taste in music,” Jason complimented.

“Thank you,” Y/N mumbled.

A new tension filled the air.

Something neither of them have felt in awhile – if at all.

Y/N cleared her throat again, starting to feel too close to this large and beautiful man who was only standing in his briefs.

“You can use the shower if you want.”

Jason smirked. “Thanks, but I should get out of your hair. You’ve already done enough for me.”

He took a step toward her, realizing that he seemed to like seeing her reaction to his presence.

She stayed in place, but shifted her weight.

Jason lowered his head a bit. “Your secret is safe with me, Y/N. Thank you again…you saved my life.”

——————

Y/N and Jason couldn’t stop thinking about one another since that morning.

Jason had trust issues. And because of those trust issues, he learned not to rely on others. He refused to be anything besides independent. But those flaws were also the reason it was so hard for him to get close to anyone. He kept people at a distance so he could never be rejected or get his heart broken. It was problematic, but that was how he survived.

But Y/N had shown him kindness and then expected absolutely nothing in return. She just hoped he wouldn’t shoot her brains out when he finally came to.

Meanwhile, Y/N couldn’t remember the last time a man looked at her the way Jason had. Just thinking about the looks he gave her caused goosebumps to shiver across her skin. She’d seen the scars across his skin and knew he’d lived a rough life. And that wasn’t even including the scars his mind and heart held. She wondered who was the last person to help him or to just show him that they cared whether he lived or died.

It had been a few weeks and Y/N still couldn’t get Jason Todd out of her mind. Even now, as she sat on the rooftop of her building once again, eating a pizza she’d just picked up and washing it down with cheap red wine.

She almost spilled said wine all over herself when she jumped from the sound of someone dropping onto the roof from behind her.

Y/N whipped around to see Red Hood walking steadily toward her.

“Sorry. I tried to be loud so I wouldn’t scare you.” His voice sounded different from the helmet distorting it.

“Well, most people use doors and stairs…so I think the effort is pretty useless.”

Jason ignored her joke and pulled out a thick envelope that had been tucked on the inside of his leather jacket. 

He handed it to her.

Y/N was confused, but took it from his grasp anyway.

She opened it to find two tickets to see Fleetwood Mac on their reunion tour at Gotham City Stadium.

Her gaze shot up to Jason’s and then she did a double take at the tickets, making sure she wasn’t seeing things.

“How - What - Why?” She finally sputtered out the right question.

Jason just shrugged. “I owed you.”

“T-This is too much. I can’t accept this. These tickets must’ve cost a fortune,” she told him as she tried to hand the envelop back to him.

But he wasn’t having it and simply shook his head.

Y/N knew they cost a fortune because she had looked up tickets. Her heart had broken when she saw how far out of her budget the lowest prices were.

“Take them, Y/N. Please.”

She knew there was no point in arguing.

But she slowly looked up at him. “Would…ummm… Would you like to go with me?”

Jason blinked at the offer. “Seriously?”

Y/N laughed at his surprise. “Yeah, I mean, clearly you’re a fan, too.” Then she shrugged, now self conscious that she’d been too forward. “I don’t know. When was the last time you did something fun?”

Jason was shocked at how right she was.

“Oh, my God!” Y/N suddenly yelped.

Jason immediately jumped into action, grabbing both of his guns and stepping to Y/N in a protective stance.

“Jason, you’re bleeding!” She cried out, not realizing that he had just used his body as a human shield for her to defend an attack that wasn’t even happening.

He relaxed and followed her gaze to his forearm – the small patch of skin between his gloves and the rolled up sleeve of his leather jacket. He had been sliced by a knife. He probably needed to clean it before it got infected and stitch it up. 

“Y/N, it’s just a scratch.”

“Shut up,” she snapped. “Come here.”

Then he let her dragged him to the two fold-out chairs she kept on the roof.

Jason realized suddenly that he didn’t mind being bossed around by this woman. In fact, he kind of enjoyed it.

Without asking for permission, Y/N put her palm over his cut.

Jason watched as he felt a comforting warmth wash over the area of skin that she was touching. Within seconds, his cut was completely gone.

Y/N gave it a satisfied smile. No matter how many injuries she healed, the pride and relief never went away.

“You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” Jason was relieved his helmet hid the dumbstruck look that was surely on his face. 

Y/N didn’t seem to take the compliment very well and slightly folded into herself.

“So, will you?” She changed the subject quickly.

“Will I what?” But as Jason asked for clarification, he knew that he’d probably do anything Y/N would ask of him.

“Will you go to the concert with me?”

He nodded.

The nonverbal answer was enough for Y/N because she gave him a beaming smile.

In that moment, Jason wondered how he could ever push Y/N away like he had done with everyone else in his life. 

And for once, he allowed himself to feel happy.

Maybe he could keep letting himself be happy, as long as it included Y/N. 

---------------------------

Really, really loving writing for Jason Todd. I was a little exhausted with Marvel fandom.  Let me know what you think!

[ariadne-does-her-best]

Sparks Dancing Across Your Skin

Jason Todd x Reader One-Shot; Soulmate!Au

Word Count: 5,000+

Warnings: Mentions of death, gets very angsty but ends with a happy ending :)

Author's Note: Hey guys! I just wanted to let you know that I’m trying to post once every two weeks on Sunday but its very difficult for me right now. I just started college this week so I haven't been very active on any of my socials because of my orientation schedule. Originally, this was going to be around the same length as the Dick one-shot but when I finished writing it, it didn’t feel complete so I may go back and turn this into a series. I’m not very satisfied with this but I did want to try and post regularly. Please let me know how you like this and if you would be willing to read a series with a similar plot. Thank you, Ariadne.

Summary: As someone with a busy schedule, you never really thought of who could be your soulmate. Rather you didn’t have the time. But lucky for you, it’s your friend. Unluckily for you, he’s a vigilante and you don’t even know his secret identity. 

You sighed as you packed up your belongings. You never meant to stay late but here you were, sitting in Mrs. Jones’s classroom, and if the clock was correct, Mrs. Jones herself had left more than two hours ago.

The class committee meetings weren’t supposed to take so long but that was only if the president, vice president, and secretary were all sharing the workload. As president, you had to pick up all of the slack that your friends left you. But you didn’t mind since you understood that they also have a life outside of school.

As you left the classroom, you made sure the door was locked on the inside before checking your phone. You only had one text and it was from your mother, telling you that she had to jet over to Paris to meet with an investor and that your father had gone to South Korea to look at some sort of textile for her. She ended the text by saying that she loves you and that she’ll try to be back in a week.

You stuffed your phone back into your pocket, turning the corner of the hallway towards the main entrance. You had parked your car in the back of the parking lot, something that you had started to regret once you saw how deserted the school really was. Remembering the fact that most people were kidnapped in parking lots, albeit grocery store parking lots, they were still parking lots at the end of the day. You sped up when you saw your car and yanked the door open before locking it after sitting inside. When you turned around to put your seatbelt on, you let out a scream when you saw that someone was in your backseat.

“Calm down, it's just me,” the boy said in the back, his red domino mask doing nothing to mask the laughter threatening to spill out of his mouth.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you stared at the boy who was laying on your backseat. Robin was organizing the items in your car, putting them into two piles. You watched him as he pulled out a piece of gum and popped a bubble. You smiled as you shook your head before coughing as you turned your car on, effectively grabbing his attention.

“You wanna go to the diner and tell me why you’re not with the Bat tonight?”

At that he pursed his lips, a small smile threatening to spill over.

“I dunno if I should…”

“I’ll pay.”

“Deal.”

*****

When you had first met Robin, it was after he had tried to help you escape from a mugger. Instead of cowering like he had expected you to, you had just grabbed the man's arm, twisting it as far back as you could without breaking it, and kicked him down. Robin had swooped down, laughing as he handcuffed the man and complimented you on your punch. You both were waiting for the GCPD when your stomach grumbled and you offered to treat him to some waffles at the diner across the street since it had started snowing. After that, you both kept meeting up frequently at night, him on patrol and you going home after finishing whatever official school-related event you had.

And soon enough, those nights all added up to you and Robin meeting up frequently to eat at the same diner from the first time you had met. You liked your friendship with Robin. Even though you had no idea who he was under the mask, you felt comfortable with him, like he was your rock to help keep you grounded.

As you sat there and watched him fiddle with the menu, you resisted the urge to grab his hands and instead looked down at your own hands. You started picking at the skin on one of your still healing scabs from where a cat from the animal shelter you volunteered at had scratched you.

“You should stop that,” Robin was looking at you, his bottom lip stuck out slightly in what you recognized as worry.

“You’re my distraction,” you waved your hand at him, “so go on, distract me.”

“What do you want me to talk about,” he asked as he leaned back, letting Linda, the waitress, put your regular orders down on the table. After a chorus of ‘thank you’s, you sipped your hot chocolate and contemplated on what to ask him. There was so much you didn’t know about Robin, such as his identity, but you didn’t want to scare him away.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”.

“Maybe a librarian,” he said after a long pause. You smiled at that and started stuffing your face with your hashbrowns, watching as Robin finished chewing his food.

“What about you, what do you want to be?”

You sat there, thinking. You never really knew what you wanted to be. Every year, you would have a new dream job but it never felt right to you. You just shrugged before turning the topic to books and different book recommendations, watching his eyes light up at the mention of literature.

“You should read Le Petit Prince,” you said as you both stood outside on the chilly November night. You had talked about different works by Shakespeare and had only started heading outside once Linda told you that it was ten. It was snowing slightly and Robin looked breathtaking with the white snow in his dark hair, his red mask creating a sharp contrast against the fairness of his skin.

“Only if you read it to me,” he said before grappling to the top of the veterinarian's office near the diner. You slowly walked to your car and turned it on. Robin was still sitting on the top of the building and as you pulled out of the parking lot, you waved goodbye to him before heading home, rolling your eyes with a smile when you realized that he was following you by running across the roofs of the buildings.

*****

“Hello, I’m (Y/N) (L/N), your tutor here at the Student Center. And you are?”

“Jason Todd,” the boy said, nodding at you as he pulled out his chair and sat down. You smiled at him and wrote his name down on the form you were given. You asked him basic questions about his grade, what class the assignment he wanted to go over was from, and what his reason was for visiting the center.

“All right, so it looks like Mr. Mijia wanted you to come in here and just have someone review your essay for you. Is he doing the extra credit padding before final exams again?”

Jason nodded his head and you marked the according box.

“Alright, the first thing I’m going to have you do is pull up an electronic copy and pass the hard copy to me. Then we’ll have you read it aloud so we can catch any grammatical errors.”

Jason nodded again before clearing his throat and reading his paper off of his screen, stumbling over the wording of his essay only twice. You were impressed, his style of writing was advanced, with him connecting his ideas throughout the whole essay.

“As time progresses, it is imperative to look--”

“Hey bestie,” you sighed when you heard the grating voice of Elsie Lager. You gave Jason an apologetic look before forcing a smile on your face as you faced Elsie.

“Hi Els, what are you doing here,” you asked, taking note of the way her eyes flitted over Jason, before landing on you.

“I’m just here to give you these,” she said, holding out a thick manilla folder. “Mrs. Jones said that we have to read through all of these proposals for the Spring Fling and Jackson and I thought that you could do it since you are the president. And because your mom is the famous torchbearer in today’s fashion world. It’ll just be soooo easy for you.”

You resisted the urge to smack Elsie with the manilla folder, aware of the fact that if you did that there was a witness, and instead took it from her hands before flipping through it. Great, there were over fifty concepts and designs to choose from. Taking out your planner, you wrote down ‘choose Spring Fling concept’ between your Taekwondo lesson and your animal fashion show at the shelter.

“I have that down, anything else I can do for you Elsie,” you asked with a strained smile. The brunette stood there, twisting a piece of hair around her pointer finger before smacking her forehead.

“OMG, I totally forgot! Callisto Barsotti told me that you should keep your ears open for an invite to one of his parties. I’ve gotta go now but you just have to tell me how you got Callisto to notice you, you lucky bitch.”

You watched as Elsie left the library, blowing a kiss towards you, in a blur of white. Sighing, you turned back around to Jason.

“I’m so sorry about the interruption. Why don’t you continue reading from where you were interrupted.”

“She’s a bitch,” Jason said. Your eyes widened in surprise and you watched as he leaned towards you, resting his face on his hand. “Why are you friends with people that take advantage of you like that?”

You sucked in your breath, keeping your face impassive as you stared down at him.

“You have no idea what my life is like Jason Todd,” you said evenly, setting the manilla folder to the side. “And because you don’t know me, why don’t we talk about something we do have some knowledge about: your essay.”

Jason just sighed before he started packing his items up, tugging the hard copy of his essay out from under your hands.

“You and I both know that I don’t need help with my essay. But if you ever need help, let me know,” and with a familiar wave, he left you sitting in the library, confused about how you had gotten his attention when you both weren’t even in the same grade.

*****

You scanned the room as you tugged your jacket around you. You normally didn’t attend parties, especially those that you knew involved alcohol, but your mother had pushed you to go after being nagged by Elsie’s mother by her daughter’s lack of invitation. And speaking of Elsie, she had left you alone as soon as she had entered the house. Which sucked since she had insisted on driving in her new Mercedes.

As you walked around the living room, making small talk with the people who greeted you, you couldn’t help but think about what Jason Todd had told you. It frustrated you that he took up so much space in your head, that he was all that you could think of since that day in the library.

He didn’t know anything about your life. While he had grown up on the streets, you had grown up with a silver spoon in your mouth, never having to worry about anything.

‘But you do worry,’ the small voice in your head said, sounding very similar to Robin. You needed a drink.

You were searching the coolers for a bottle of water when a heavy arm wrapped around your shoulders causing you to flinch and elbow them in the stomach.

“Ow, what was that for,” the person asked, slurring their words slightly. You looked up and sighed when you saw it was the host of the party, Callisto Barsotti. He smiled at you and rubbed at his stomach before holding his arms out, “I’ll let you go if you give me a hug,” he said, enunciating his words with grabby motions.

Normally, you would be on your best behavior, helping whoever was drunk by getting them water and calling their friends, but you were pissed. You didn’t want to be at this party, instead, your mother had forced you to go after Mrs. Lager had bitched to your mom about her precious Elsie not being invited. And to make matters worse, you were tired. So tired.

You were tired of your mother, for filling up your schedule with things you had no interest in, such as modeling gigs and piano lessons. Your father for never being there. Elsie for complaining to her mom and Callisto for inviting you to his stupid party. Jason Todd for being in your head for over a month. Robin for not reaching out in weeks. But mostly at yourself. You were upset at yourself for quietly taking all of this and then loading yourself up with more so you could be the perfect doll for your mother to brag about raising.

So when Callisto tried to grab you and hug you, you kneed him in the groin before deciding to walk home. Ignoring his cries and the looks you got from others at the party, you ran out of the house, only pausing to take a breath once you exited the gated property. You didn’t know where you wanted to go so you let your legs decide on what direction to walk.

Walking around anywhere in the middle of the night was not a great idea. But walking around Gotham in the middle of the night was one of the worst ideas anyone could have. Looking back at it, your night could have gotten worse, like you being kidnapped by a c-grade villain or something.

Instead, you ended up running into Robin. He didn’t look surprised to see you and instead gave you a small smile.

“So, do you wanna go to the diner,” he asked, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“No,” you snapped, “Leave me the fuck alone birdbrain.” You pushed past him, a look of surprise etched on his face.

“(Y/N)! Wait!”

You ignored his calls and instead sped up, aware of the fact that he was catching up to you. At this point, you were walking near the actual city parts of Gotham so maybe you could get a cab to drop you off at your mother’s apartment near the business sector.

At that thought, you broke into a run, sprinting down the street before calling a cab, hyper-aware of the fact that Robin was staring at you with a look of hurt and confusion on his face.

*****

You felt bad for how you treated Robin. He didn’t deserve your cold shoulder and you certainly didn’t deserve him. With his witty jokes and the way he always followed you to make sure you got home alright, you had realized yesterday in the cab, watching the red and yellow of his costume jump by on the roof, that you didn’t deserve him.

You threw yourself back into your different activities and soon, you didn’t even have enough time to even think about what you were going to eat for dinner.

As you exited the school building, you walked slowly towards your car, being careful not to slip on the ice on the ground as you rounded the corner.

But you felt someone grab your wrist, making you scream and fall. The person cursed as they tried to pull you up but you slid as far away as you could from them so you could see their face. It was Callisto Barsotti.

“What the fuck,” you yelled, trying to yank your wrist out of his iron-like grip. When that didn’t work you got ready to elbow him but he twisted your other arm behind you, causing you to scream.

“Not today you bastard,” he growled as he started to drag you. You screamed and tugged against him, and when he turned towards you, you stopped pulling against him and stomped on his foot, making sure to drag your snow boots against the skin on his shin.

Callisto let out a cry of pain and you pushed him away from you, letting yourself fall to the ground out of shock.

“You little gremlin,” Callisto stuttered out as he started limping towards you. You panicked as you tried to find something heavy to hit him with. A rock or anything would do. But you couldn’t find anything so you got up on trembling legs to run towards your car.

But you didn’t have to worry as a figure in red and yellow dropped by and wacked Callisto in the back of the head. Your eyes widened as Robin took this moment to start kicking the fallen boy. You don’t know how long you stared at him, but you snapped out of your daze once you started hearing cracking noises.

“Stop! Robin, please stop,” you cried desperately. But he didn’t stop, he continued to beat Callisto.

“Please stop,” you cried, whimpering as you knelt down near Robin. When he didn’t listen to you again, you leaned forward and grabbed his face, turning it towards you. You were going to tell him to stop again but you then felt a warm sensation, different from the coldness from the March air, followed by the feeling of a shock. Your soulmate, Robin was your soulmate.

He stared at you in shock, allowing you to pull him off of Callisto. You pushed him towards your car, and he stumbled since he was still staring at you as a look of understanding passed on his face.

“Look,” you said, inspecting the blood on Robin’s costume, “you need to listen to what I’m going to say carefully. Go to my car and grab the cleaning wipes from the trunk. Clean yourself off as I call the cops. The story is going to be that you were patrolling the area and heard my screams.”

Robin stared at you, mouth slightly open as he reached to touch you with a bare hand. You let his fingers ghost against your skin, the shock from before still present as you pulled back to stare at him.

“Go.”

*****

It's been over five hours since Robin beat Callisto. Not half to death like you had expected but still pretty bad since he had a broken nose, arm, and bruised ribs. As you waited in the police station for your parents to pick you up (“The gang that you described could always come back for you,” the officer had said), you could only think about how scary it was, watching Robin hit someone so many times with so much anger in him. In the end, your parents didn’t come and instead, your older brother had driven all the way from Metropolis to pick you up.

You both didn’t talk to each other during the ride back to your house but you could tell he was worried by the way his eyes would flicker to you. When you reached the gates to your house, your brother had parked the car and turned to look at you.

‘(Y/N), I have no idea what's going on with you right now but if you ever feel overwhelmed or alone, just tell me and I’ll take you with me back to Gran’s in Metropolis.”

You smiled at him, eyes tired but filled with a small spark as you exited his car, making sure to express your thanks with a kiss on his cheek. As you entered your house, you took off your shoes and slipped on your home slippers before going to your room and taking a shower. Drying your hair, you walked towards your windows to close your curtains, letting out a slight scream when you saw a hand pressed against the glass.

You sighed when you saw it was Robin and opened your window, letting him come inside to your room. He looked around your room, studying the many medals and certificates you had accumulated from the years along with the magazines you had in your room, before turning towards you.

“Hey,” you said, walking to him slowly. Robin licked his lips slightly as he stared at you before coughing.

“Can I please touch you,” he asked, his voice breaking slightly. You nodded and watched as he took off his right glove before caressing your cheek with his hand. You watched as he smiled when he felt the same spark from before, a breathless laugh escaping his lips as he took off his left glove so he could hold you with both hands. You shivered as his thumb ghosted over your bottom lip, eyes closing before snapping open when you couldn’t feel the warmth from Robin’s hands.

“Don’t freak out,” he whispered in your ear, “I’m just going to close the window and then dry your hair for you. Just go and sit down and I’ll be right there.”

You nodded and sat down at the chair in front of your vanity, watching as he closed your window and pulled the curtains before grabbing your towel. You smiled as you watched him in the mirror, massaging your head with your hands before wrapping your towel around your scalp.

“How come you never asked me what my name was,” Robin asked as he brushed through your hair.

“You’ll tell me when the time is right.”

*****

“I should’ve asked him what his name was,” you thought as you walked near an alley, waiting for a sign of Batman so you could ask him what happened to your soulmate.

A couple of months had passed since you had last seen Robin in April. He had looked angry when you both had met up at the diner and he had further worried you when he ignored the ringing of his phone. As soon as he had seen that you were tucked into bed, he had given you a peck on the forehead before leaving through your window.

You were worried for him. Dressing up as a traffic light every night was dangerous, no matter how much you loved going out there and beating up criminals. So you had been following Batman for months, trying to find a moment to ask him what happened to your soulmate. But you never had the opportunity since he always managed to lose you by either disappearing or by just leading you into a dead end.

Months of following Batman has helped you as you were now familiar with the rooftops of Gotham, like the roof of the veterinarian’s office near the diner you and Robin used to meet up at. Sitting with binoculars, you let out a small gasp when you saw a familiar flash of red and yellow, watching as it ran across a rooftop. Scrambling, you started following the figure, zigzagging around multiple large gaps that you couldn’t jump before cursing when you realized that he was gone.

“Why are you following me,” an unfamiliar voice asked behind you. You turned around and assessed the boy, taking note of the fact that he was taller than your Robin and didn’t seem to have the same half-smile-half-smirk that he did. But the only way to confirm, for your brain to tell your heart to stop searching would be direct contact.

“I can’t find someone,” you started, voice shaky as your eyes filled with tears. The boy’s mouth twisted in a slight frown but he still let you continue.

“I just need to check that you’re not my Robin. Please, let me just hold your hand briefly or something. I just need to know.”

At this point, you were crying. When he hadn’t returned the next day, you had started to panic, wondering if he had really left you and gone somewhere else. But that night, you had started out of your bed, wondering what had woken you up when you felt a hollowness inside of you.

The boy patted your shoulder sympathetically before offering his hand to you. Sniffling, you pulled his glove down slightly so his wrist was showing and touched it.

There were no sparks, no warmth, as you collapsed on the rooftop and cried.

Your Robin was no more.

*****

You smiled as you entered the diner, waving at Linda before taking the booth that you and Robin used to eat at. Six years had passed since you had learned that he was no more and even though it was hard most of the time, you always moved forward. You had graduated high school and gone forward to become a librarian, your choice mostly influenced by your late soulmate.

As you waited for Linda to bring out your regular order, you looked around the diner, recognizing everyone except for a man wearing a red sweatshirt. He was staring down at his phone but was now looking up at you when he felt your stare. You flushed slightly and gave him a wave before looking out of the window.

When Linda came out with your packed regular, you left after giving her a large tip. You had to go back to work.

*****

When Jason came back to life, he knew something was wrong.

After finding out that you were his soulmate, he felt this familiar warmth inside of him, similar to the feeling from when Bruce had first made him Robin. But after the pit, that feeling was multiplied tenfold, to the point that it felt like he was being burned from the inside out. And then the random sparks started.

The first time was when he was with Talia. It had been months since she had started training him, helping him remember a bit of who he was beforehand. When she grabbed his wrist, he felt a spark. It wasn’t the same familiar, welcomed spark with you but it was still a spark. He had brushed it off as static electricity, especially since Talia didn’t seem to have noticed.

But the sparks continued. He felt it frequently when people would hold him, touch him, brush against him. It was an annoyance at that point. A reminder that something was wrong with him, especially since he knew that you were his soulmate and that the others seemed to have not noticed the sparks.

So when Jason saw you walking home one night, he couldn’t help but follow you to make sure you got back safe, just like in the old days. Except for the fact that it’s not like the old days and he was malfunctioning. He was too scared to meet you; he was terrified of the idea that he might touch you and that there would be no spark anymore.

Jason had decided to only follow you home and keep you safe from the shadows, to never interact with you directly. So why exactly was he bleeding on your couch?

He watched as you helped him out of his leather jacket, eyes following your movements to the best of his abilities. He then watched as you pulled out a pair of scissors and started cutting the area he was shot.

Your eyebrows were furrowed and Jason couldn’t help but want to reach out and smooth them. Instead, he settled for helping you by peeling the square of his cut shirt away as you prepared the gauze to apply pressure.

His head was spinning and his breathing sounded labored even to his own ears but Jason didn’t want to take off his helmet in fear that you would recognize him from the red domino. But you seemed to have other plans as you reached your hands towards his head, still applying pressure to his wound with your knee.

He tried to avoid your hands but it was difficult to do when his head started to spin. He just watched as your hands reached out towards his helmet and opened it.

A small, selfish part of him wanted you to pull off the helmet and accept him, regardless of whether or not the spark was still there. But from the two years that he had known you, he knew that you’d accept him as Robin, but he wasn’t sure that you’d accept him as Red Hood.

Jason watched as your eyes widened at the sight of his red domino but you didn’t go as far as to peel it off. Instead, you turned your attention back to his wound, gathering more gauze to apply pressure.

As he lost consciousness, he watched as your concerned face entered his vision. And then he felt the fated spark, and all he could think about was how right it felt.

*****

When Jason woke up, he was surprised. By multiple things. For one, you hadn’t called the cops on him. The second thing being the fact that he was, in fact, fine and not dead: he had checked by pinching himself. The third was that his domino was still on his face. And the last being that he could hear your voice clearly, it was distinct, like music against his ears.

He listened as you spoke, not understanding what you were saying but knowing that you were reading Le Petit Prince. After all, one of the first things he did after coming back from the pit was listening to the audiobook, imagining what you would sound like.

He heard the page flip and decided that now would be a good time to open his eyes and sit up.

His sudden movement startled you. You both stared at each other before Jason croaked out a ‘hi’. He watched as your eyes filled with tears as you hugged Jason gently like he was the most delicate, expensive thing in the world.

“I missed you (Y/N),” Jason whispered against your shoulder, feeling the tears form in his eyes as he pulled back.

Your eyes flitted down to his wound with a concerned look but he tilted your head up, towards his face as he pulled the domino off.

He saw a look of recognition in your eyes, knowing for sure that they recognized him when you whispered ‘Jason Todd.’

He nodded, watching as you slowly extended your hands towards his face, caressing it as you skimmed your thumbs over his cheekbones.

“I’m a terrible person,” Jason whispered, looking down into his lap. You simply lifted his face, shaking your head.

“You’re not a terrible person Jason. You were a hero back when you were Robin and you’re a hero as the Red Hood. You’ve always been one. Now lie back down before you pull your stitches and tell me what you’ve been up to.”

Jason smiled as he laid his head across your lap, smiling as the sparks now seemed to dance across his skin in joy, happy that he was finally home.

[oscarseyebrow]

Here’s a prompt for you: 24 “Don’t mind if I do.”

Feel free to ignore this but I’m thinking AU Poe? Maybe something focusing on what his life would be like if he hadn’t joined the Resistanc? Thank you, love you 😘

gif by the wonderful @zoriis 💖

Rating: M Pairing: Poe Dameron x gn!reader Word count: 5k Warnings: Drinking, language, smoking. AN: Song lyrics taken (and changed) from Never Had. Masterlist | Taglist

The cantina is heaving by the time you finally arrive - late, as per usual. It really isn’t your fault. Whatever your friends may say -- if you ever make it to the table -- it’s not your fault. For every task you’d managed to wrap up at work, two more came across the desk for you and Maker, you really need to learn how to say no.

Leaving work late is the domino to topple the rest, which somehow sees you almost an hour late as you turn sideways, trying to squeeze between two groups of people. It’s so fucking busy and you don’t want to be here.

Come for drinks! They had said in the messages being exchanged throughout the day. There’s some live music on tonight. They’d then added. After the week you’ve had, the thought of drinks is a delight -- but not the live music. Not the packed cantina, full to the brim with people. You should have known it would be like this. Yet, here you are.

Everything is so warm and clammy in the dimly lit room; the heat from all the bodies mingling with very little space to dissipate between the walls and the low ceiling. It’s the kind of heat that wets your skin and causes clothes to stick to a thin covering of perspiration. You can already feel it as the smallest beads begin to build on your lower back beneath your layers. And you’re so desperate to reach the booth and relieve yourself of your jacket, but now you’re trapped. The fabric caught between the two bodies you’re attempting to squeeze between.

“Excuse me,” You tug and tug at your jacket, but to no avail. “Hey, can you… Just…” Another tug and you’re free; the abrupt release causing you to stumble backwards and straight into someone else. There’s a sudden yell that’s quickly followed by a wetness filling your boot and your jaw is already clenching as you glance down, seeing the empty glass rolling away and the contents of it now soaking through to your sock. Fucking great. Yes, please, allow this night to become so much worse than you could have ever foreseen.

Really, there are no words. You can’t blame this guy, you were the one to stumble into him and knock his drink out of his hand. But you still feel the unjustified rage bubbling in your stomach while you glare daggers at him. Without saying anything, you fix your jacket from where it has slipped down over your shoulder and then trudge the rest of the way to the booth; the trail of single wet footprints being left in your wake.

“You made it!” Zee, a friend from your previous place of work, is the first to spot you as she gets to her feet to throw her arms around your shoulders for a quick hug. “What took you so long?”

“Work.” You groan and give her one of those exasperated looks before moving to take a seat beside the others, but you’re quickly stopped by the hand of another friend, not allowing you to move any further.

“Last one in buys a round of drinks.” He grins up at you, clearly a few rounds deep already. In an attempt to keep your thoughts to yourself, you press your lips together in a tight line and look between all of the glasses on the table. They’ve barely been touched. “Hey, I don’t make the rules.” He then shrugs and leans back in his seat, looking all too smug with himself. If only he knew the tight thread your patience is hanging from right now, he wouldn’t be sitting there looking so smug. Finally, your eyes sweep back over to Zee and watch as she gives you a small, apologetic shrug.

Right.

With a heavy sigh, you turn on your heel and begin the struggle of pushing your way through to the bar; that unjustified rage bubbling away again with every shoulder and elbow that catches you as you weave between bodies. Finally, the bar is in sight, it’s only a few feet away and that’s when you stumble; hands quickly grasping for anything within reach to steady yourself as you gasp loudly. It’s a stomach turning moment, much like misjudging the last step in the dark. You lose your footing and know the floor is going to be greeting you real soon.

Thankfully, a hand catches hold of your arm to steady you and guide you forwards so that you can brace yourself against the wet bartop. When previously thinking if this night could get any worse, it hadn’t been a challenge to yourself. Yet, somehow, another domino topples over as you straighten up and turn to give your thanks to the stranger who saved you from the embarrassment of falling down. Your mouth opens but your words stall, not quite making it out as you meet the darkest eyes you’ve ever seen.

“I… Uh…” You stutter while drinking in the handsome face that’s still watching you with interest; eyebrows arching towards soft curls that have fallen free across his forehead from where his hair is swept back. Maker, he’s beautiful and all you can do is stare. “I…” You try again, but become very aware of the hand that is still holding your arm to keep you steady. A whole different kind of heat creeps across your skin now, adding to the warmth of the cantina while your eyes lower to the way his dark hair curls beneath his ear.

“Thanks.” You clear your throat, managing to force your unwilling words out. It starts as a hint at the corner of his lips, his mouth twitching ever so slightly while watching you before a smile finally curls over them. It’s a smile to light up a damn room. It’s vibrant and it radiates warmth as you watch the way his eyes crinkle, showing you how genuine this gesture is. Oh, you’re in trouble and your eyes are falling faster than you were only moments before. They come to land on luscious lips and that’s where they linger for maybe a second longer than they should -- they look so soft, so welcoming and they’re parting as he finally speaks.

“You doing okay?” Your saviour leans forwards a little as he asks that, allowing you to hear a voice that you swear drips actual honey. You should be embarrassed. But, you’re not. And for a fleeting moment, you find yourself smiling back at him, allowing him to captivate you and draw you in. It feels like the first genuine smile you’ve given since walking into this place, and you’re throwing it at a stranger you’ve just met.

“No.” You laugh, unable to help yourself. “I’m really not. I’ve been dragged here to see some shitty musician, I have someone’s drink swimming around inside of my boot and I have to buy a round of drinks because I’m late.” The man’s hand finally leaves your arm while he leans against the bar, keeping his body turned to yours now that you have seemingly caught his attention.

“Nice to meet you, Late. I’m Poe.” His hand extends towards you as he introduces himself and it takes you a moment for his awful joke to finally click. Oh. Stars. He’s witty as well as handsome. And as an automatic reaction, your hand reaches to take his, curious to know what his skin feels like as you shake it in greeting. Smooth, yet calloused. His palm holds a softness that his fingertips lack and you can’t help but wonder what his story is.

“That’s not-” You begin, as though considering correcting him and telling him your actual name, but you think better of it and simply shake your head with a small laugh. “You know what? Never mind.” Releasing his hand, you turn your attention to the bar and try to make eye contact with the server to let them know that you’re waiting. It’s so busy. You know this is going to take some time.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Poe doesn’t beat around the bush, does he? He’s straight in there, very forward with his offer while he continues to watch you long after your eyes have left him. But even as you stare at the coloured bottles behind the bar, you can still picture the jaw-line, covered with a few days worth of stubble which gives him a somewhat rugged look that counteracts the smoothness of his voice. And those lips. Full and perfectly even at the top and bottom. Your timing is all wrong as you finally glance back over at him and catch him licking at them after finishing his drink, waiting for your answer before ordering another.

You should go back to the booth. You’re here with friends, to see some live music and hopefully have some fun. But the longer you stand here, the more this offer seems much more appealing. They won’t miss you for one drink, will they? It can be quick. So you finally nod and force your eyes away from those lips, desperately trying to keep your face from showing everything you’re thinking right now.

“You can.” And so it’s decided. Tugging your jacket off, you’re hoping it helps with the heat and the way your hair is already beginning to stick to the nape of your neck, but it really doesn’t. It’s heavy and almost suffocating with all of the bodies packed inside of the cantina, yet, this man feels like a breath of fresh air. An attractive, bright, breath of fresh air and you’re desperate to breathe him in.

Poe makes a small motion with his hand on the bar and one of the servers walks down towards him, greeting him with a smile of familiarity. Interesting. This man appears to be known here, perhaps a regular - in any case, the two men know each other as they interact and Poe orders his drink first before turning to you so that you can do the same.

“Jet juice, please.” Poe watches you for a moment, silently storing that information to mind, or silently judging you from your drink choice, you’re not quite sure. But then his attention is gone and he slips the credits across the bar top to pay for the drinks. Even his profile is striking. You make yourself comfortable on the stool beside him while watching him, completely distracted from the chain of events that had brought you to this moment. It’s as though a domino in the line had fallen out of place, breaking the toppling effect to give you a break and as much as you don’t want to admit it, you find that you’re actually enjoying the evening now.

“So, why are you walking around with a drink in your boot?” Those dark eyes sweep back over to you again while Poe turns his head and after some consideration, his body turns, too. It’s now that you notice his shirt is open a button or two more than you’re expecting, revealing hints of a toned chest that’s covered in a light sheen under the lights. Maker, you can only imagine what his skin must feel like beneath your tongue. The warmth and the taste against the strong muscle while you drag it upwards along his throat -- no, stop. You need to stop. But you find that you can’t. Not now that your eyes follow the chain around his neck, right down to the ring that glints and glimmers against his chest.

Is he married? Was he married? You can only make up stories in your head about this stranger as you judge him based on what you can see.

“I bumped into someone…” You begin to explain.

“Do you do that often?” Poe’s response seems to bounce back instantly, the ball quickly falling into your court and keeping you on your toes in the most pleasant way.

“No, I got stuck. I mean, I got my jacket stuck. And then I stumbled and bumped into someone and…” You motion with your hands in an attempt to show him the way the liquid had fallen down your leg to fill your boot. His eyes practically sparkle as he presses his lips together in an attempt to keep himself from laughing at you.

“Don’t…” You warn him, despite a smile curling onto your lips again. “This is not a day to laugh at me, Poe.” There’s something that feels familiar in the way you speak his name, as though this isn’t the first time your mouth has formed the word. But, you can’t seem to place it. You’ve never met him before - That much you do know. You would remember someone this handsome.

“Is your sock wet?” The amusement drips from his voice now and he quickly glances back towards the bar as the two drinks are set down.

“Wet and sticky.” You laugh. Almost simultaneously, you reach for the glass at the same time as he does; your hand briefly grabbing his instead of the cold glass. The warmth is unexpected and not entirely unwelcome before you quickly snatch your arm back and throw an apologetic glance over at him. Somehow, you don’t think he seems to mind because he doesn’t flinch or try to pull back from the brief contact. Poe is still calm and collected as he pushes the glass towards you this time, helping you to avoid any further embarrassment. Why are you like this?

“Did you not think to take it off?”

“Take it off?” Your question doesn’t really answer his question as you take a sip of your drink and swallow down the bright liquid. It adds even more warmth to your body while it slides down your throat and seems to pool in your stomach, blazing a trail the whole way down. “I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.” You admit and then lick your lips to collect any lingering taste there.

That’s when you notice Poe’s eyes drop, almost in the exact same way yours had when mesmerized by his own lips. They seem to linger for a moment before he reminds himself to look back up to your eyes again, watching you with interest. You have his attention. And just to test that, you reach up to swipe your thumb against the corner of your lower lip -- his eyes instantly falling again to follow it. The initial attraction is no longer one-sided.

The sound of a glass smashing and cheering over the other side of the cantina breaks the moment as you both glance over, watching a group of friends laughing at a member of their group who had dropped a drink. Pity your boot wasn’t there to catch it. When you finally turn back to look at Poe again, he’s taking a couple of gulps from his drink; the muscles in his throat working with each swallow until he lowers his glass again. Look away. Look away. But all you can do is swallow thickly until he speaks again.

“Did you say you were here with friends?” That suave voice enters your thoughts and brings your attention to the present moment as Poe asks his next question, interested to learn more about you. He’s making easy conversation from the first thing you told him; your wet boot and the fact that you were here with friends to see some musician. Would you still rather be at home now?

“Yeah, they’re over…” You trail off as you sit up taller on the stool, attempting to look between heads and shoulders to spot your group in their booth. Eventually, you make eye contact with one of them and give them a small wave. “There.” Poe’s eyes follow yours to where more of them are looking now, pointing over at you and clearly having a discussion about the fact you're sitting at a bar with someone you’ve just met. You know, it’s not your usual style -- but there’s something about Poe that seems to draw you in after stumbling into his gravitational pull.

Poe also waves over to them and the look on Zee’s face is an absolute picture. You’ll fill her in about him later and how you ended up here.

“They look happy to be here.” He observes with amusement and he’s right. They really do. You’re not sure what they’re so excited about, but they’re practically buzzing as they talk amongst themselves while looking over at you again.

“They’re always happy to be here.”

“But you’d rather be at home?” Poe asks, as though he already knows your answer to that.

“Yes.” You tell him honestly and laugh again. “All day I’ve been thinking about drinking wine on my sofa and falling asleep.” Your truthfulness has him laughing this time and the sound is wonderful. It’s so rich and full of character as it rolls out from his chest, catching the attention of others around him. It’s a sound of happiness in its truest form; nothing forced, nothing fake - simply Poe enjoying the moment that he’s sharing with you.

“Yet, here you are.”

“Here I am.” You smile at him and take another sip of your drink.

“Willing to put yourself through the torture of listening to a shitty musician, just for your friends.” It’s you that laughs this time and you set your glass down, drying off the condensation against the side of your leg.

“You think he’s shitty, too?”

“Oh, the shittiest. Never seems to get any better.” Maker, he gets it. You’ve never actually heard the artist you’re here to see -- Hell, you can’t even think of the name now that you try, but Poe seems to understand. “But for what it’s worth, I’m glad you came.” There’s such honesty laced with his amusement and it momentarily catches you off-guard; your laughter falling silent while you watch him with a lingering smile.

“Yeah… Me too.”

An easy silence settles as you take the time to look over Poe’s face again, picking up subtle details that you may have overlooked the first time. The peppering of greys in his stubble, a small scar on his cheek and the way his eyelashes seem to fan out right at the ends of his upper lids. Those striking looks make it difficult to avert your eyes when his meet yours, so you hold them for a few seconds and simply smile at each other, as though already knowing where this encounter is going to end up.

But the man behind the bar interrupts the moment all-too soon; his presence in your periphery also catches Poe’s attention as he glances over at him.

“Is it that time already?” Poe asks and finishes his drink without ordering another. There’s a sense of disappointment settling in your stomach at the thought of this man leaving before you’d really got to know much about him.

“Got a few minutes, but they’re ready whenever you are.” The man taps the bar top a couple of times and then leaves Poe to it. But he’s already straightening up as his eyes find yours again and before he can say anything, your mouth is blurting out words you weren’t intending to voice out-loud.

“Are you leaving?” As much as you try to play this casually, there’s still a hint of disappointment in your voice and you know that he hears it.

“I am…” Poe trails off and then throws you a grin; it’s different to the smiles you’ve been getting out of him and you suddenly find out why. “Got some shitty music to play.” It takes you a few seconds, but then something clicks. A light comes on so suddenly in your brain and you feel your mouth open, then quickly close again -- a motion that you repeat a few times as everything begins to make sense.

“You’re-”

“I am.”

“No…” You trail off, feeling the heat of embarrassment rush to your face and the back of your neck. “Why didn’t you say something?” Maker, you’re mortified. You’ve been sitting here, indirectly complaining about being dragged to see him. He’s the shitty musician.

“You didn’t ask…” Poe trails off, as though it’s the most obvious point he could make. “But it was worth it. Your face, a real picture.” And then he pauses, as though he wants to say something before thinking better of it. Instead, he quips, “I hope your sock dries out.”

“Yeah, me too.” You smile and watch as his lips curve upwards to return it; the genuine quality of it bringing that same sparkle to his eyes before he finally steps away to make his way through the crowd of people. Within a few seconds, he’s gone from your sight and you exhale a heavy sigh before laughing to yourself. Maker. That was embarrassing, in the best possible way.

By the time you make it back to the booth -- luckily, with no more accidents -- the first song has already begun. Seconds. That’s all the time it takes for the cantina to fall silent; everyone seemingly absorbed in the man who takes command of the whole room with only his voice. There’s no theatrics, no big show -- just Poe. Poe, his guitar and a soothing voice that washes over the crowd.

And you have  to admit, he’s not a shitty musician. In fact, he’s far from it.

That melancholy voice stirs emotions inside of you that you weren’t expecting to feel tonight. They’re simultaneously heartwarming yet somber. His tones are gentle, yet rough. You’re no longer angry and frustrated at the events that had led to this moment; in fact, you’re far from it as you sit there with a soft, mellow smile on your face. Each song earns applause and sounds of approval from the crowd, causing the man on the stage to smile in the way that illuminates him brighter than the spotlight trained on him.

“There was no writing on the wall, no warning signs to follow... I know now, and I just can't forget... You're the best I never had.”

You can’t decide if it’s real or just wishful thinking, but it feels as though his eyes sweep across every so often to your direction, almost as if he still remembers where you had pointed out your friends to him earlier. You tell yourself that he’s not actually looking at you, not with all these other people in here who want to see him perform. But with each meeting of his gaze, it’s hard to convince yourself otherwise. It makes you feel almost giddy to think that in a cantina full of people, you still have his interest.

“In this motel, well past midnight... When I'm bluer than a bruise...”

It’s not a crush. It’s not. You’re not a kid, but it sure feels similar; it makes you smile and avert your eyes, it makes your stomach flip with a combination of excitement and longing to talk to him again. Maker, you want to be close enough to him to admire the way those eyelashes caress his skin with each blink, or the way his eyebrows raise to signal his amusement in conversation. You want to allow yourself to gravitate towards him again and lose track of time while appreciating the way he seems to listen to each word you speak.

But then, you swear everything momentarily stops. Everything around you becomes nonexistent, as though you’re the only person sitting there while your heartbeat kicks up a notch inside your chest.

“You come stumbling in, through the half-light, in your funny… wet boots.”

No, this isn’t a crush. In this very second, it’s a whole goddamn explosion of exhilarating amusement as you find yourself laughing out loud at the obvious change in Poe’s original lyrics. They don't even rhyme but they're about you. It’s endearing mockery and an attempt to draw you in. He knows that he has you because there’s a grin on his lips as he continues singing. Maker, how can one man be so kriffing charming?

Suddenly, you have a million reasons to be thankful you accepted the stupid invitation to come here tonight

You sit and listen to Poe’s captivating voice with a soft smile on your face, reveling in the intimacy he’s created between you with a simple reference to your shared joke. Despite the fact that this place is packed and he has a large audience hanging onto his every word, it almost feels like he’s singing for you.

As soon as the set is over, the bustle of the cantina resumes; everything becomes far too loud again. You can’t deny it, the good mood that you’re now in, mixed with the flow of drinks through Poe’s show has a relaxing buzz settling through your limbs while you try to keep up with the conversation going on in the booth.

“Another drink?” Zee motions to your empty glass that you’re still holding in your hand, having unknowingly finished it while distracted. You weigh your options and shake your head.

“No, thanks. I’m going to grab a smoke.” You politely decline and wait until she slides out of the booth so that you can follow as you pick up your jacket and slip it on. It’s still far too warm in there to be wearing layers, but you know the air outside carries a bite tonight.

Thankfully, your attempt to get out of the cantina is much more successful than the one getting in and you’re soon wrapping your arms around yourself as you step out of the way of the doors, trying to keep in some of the warmth you’d been willing to leave you earlier. Even from outside, you can still hear the muffled rumbles and voices coming from the other side of the wall.  A faint smile settles onto your lips as you slip a cigarette between them and make quick work of lighting it up.

No sooner are you exhaling the smoke and watching it curl upwards towards the cloudy sky, than the door to the cantina opens again and there’s a momentary rush of warm air spilling out into the cold night air. Your eyes slide over and that smile begins to curl further onto your lips as you watch Poe look to his right, then to his left before he spots you.

“Hey, Late.” His movements are almost a copy of yours as he steps out of the way of the door and comes to stand in front of you instead. “Your friend said I’d find you out here.” Of course she did. Your eyes move over Poe’s face, noticing that some of the curls you’d been staring at earlier were now damp and clinging to the skin around his temples from where he’d clearly been sweating while performing.

“Had to make my escape…” You trail off and lean back against the wall while you watch him. “Could only take so much of that musician.” This earns you a laugh while you pull the small, compact tin from your pocket that has your rolled cigarettes inside and offer it to Poe. “Want one?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Poe doesn’t need to step as close to you as he does while accepting one of your cigarettes, nor does he need to rest his hand against yours while dipping his head when you offer him a light, but he does. And the smallest contact of his hand brushing against yours creates the same tingling sensation as it had when reaching for the glass at the same time.

Poe frowns slightly as he takes a deep drag from the cigarette and then exhales slowly; his tongue licking at his lips, which momentarily distracts you from everything else. The lower one glistens in the lights strung up outside of the cantina and it takes every bit of self control you have not to step forwards and kiss him. And he knows it. It’s written all over his face while he watches you without saying anything.

An easy silence settles as you take turns drawing from your cigarettes; you, still leaning against the wall and letting your eyes drink in every inch of him while he stands before you, doing the exact same. Occasionally, you share a smile when your eyes meet his and hold him in a lingering gaze. He’s still just as handsome as the moment he caught you; his striking looks having stolen your words from you while you’d tried to compose yourself.

But now he was so much more. Charming, yet a tease, with a voice that could melt like butter and ooze a delightful softness. But there was something about him that was rough around the edges; a rugged energy that drew you in and made you want to know more.

“Do you want to grab some food with me?” Poe finally speaks after what feels like the longest time. Food? With this man? Your smile tells him your answer before you’ve spoken a word, yet you still take a few seconds to keep him hanging before you finally nod.

“I’d like that.” Your answer has that smile curling over his lips again as the corner of his eyes crinkle softly.

“Yeah, me too.” Poe throws your last words to him from earlier right back at you as he holds out his arm, and with the final drag on your cigarette, you discard it and push yourself away from the wall so that you can link your arm through his.

Maybe coming to see a shitty musician hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

--------

Taglist: @the-scandalorian @fett-ching @ohkarabast @salome-c @dinjarin-baket @meanperegrine @uncle-kenobi (hope you don't mind me tagging you, fellow poe hoe 💖) @the-little-ewok @mypedrom (didn't forget you this time sweetie 💖)

[nctsworld]

in a king-size, say i’m your queen

✩‌ renjun ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ prince!renjun | fluff | smut | ‌3.4k

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ you’re drawn to the kingdom’s prince staying at your family’s inn. on the night before he leaves, you exchange good-byes in the form of a kiss and more. WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌smut (near the end), unprotected s*x, f*ngering, oral s*x (m receiving), mentions of alcohol/drinking, commoner!reader, dash of angst RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ mature PROMPT ⇾‌ prince/royalty au // fluff + smut REQ BY ⇾‌ anonymous   ‌

⇾‌ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

“Prince Huang, this is my family, who will be looking after you during your stay.”

Your father awoke everyone from deep slumber in the middle of the night, hollering at everyone to put on their work clothes in a hurry. Little did anyone expect the actual prince himself to be taking a rest at your family’s inn, for several days apparently.  

As the youngest and only daughter among your kin, your father introduces you last in line to greet the prince and his companions. With sleep still in your eyes, you curtsy as gracefully as you can, once towards the prince and another towards his followers.

The sleep in your eyes disappears as your eyelids suddenly bloom at your first clear look at the man standing a few steps across from you.

Everyone within the kingdom obviously knew of the royal family, but being this far from the mainland never granted you the chance to see them in-person. There were rumours far and wide of how captivating and beautiful the family was, especially the prince, but you assumed they were exaggerating, fueling the propaganda mill that all royalty were gorgeous, godly beings.

Oh, to be absolutely wrong.

Air’s snatched from your lungs when his warm smile burgeons, warming the room more than the fireplace ever could.

He holds his gaze on you, placing a palm on his chest and saying, “My dearest apologies for disturbing your dreams. It was a must though; we haven’t stopped anywhere in days and finally found your inn.”

Your father replies to his words, while you blink observantly at the royal figure. You wonder if it’s due to the lack of sleep or simply all in your head, but you swear his glances waver over at you more than your other family members.

“Well, I will retire to bed now and won’t be requiring your services until morning. Please resume your slumbers, and I wish you all the sweetest of dreams.”

Puffing his cheeks cutely, he bends his head slightly towards your family, while all of you dip and bow to him. When you two jointly look up, your gaze surely connects with his.

Funny enough, his wish comes true as his beauty rules over your dreams, molding them into sweet ones, for the rest of the night.  

On the second morning of his stay, you watch him relaxing at the back of the inn among the luscious greenery. In a loose white-button up, he’s sitting by himself, save for a guard nearby, and lounging in a chair under the spring sun.

Prior to starting on your tasks for the day, you stroll towards him with a jug in hand. Smiling freely, his eyes are shut as you approach him.

“Sorry to disturb you, Your Royal Highness—”

His eyes flutter open at your divine voice and his smile deepens.

“But would you care for some lemon juice?”

The boyish man hums in acceptance and he’s glued to how you carefully pour the liquid into his chalice. His eyes track the path of your departure after you leave the jug on the table and head towards a group of trees in the farther end of the garden.

Though he delights in the picturesque image of you skillfully picking the yellow fruit, which he assumes are lemons, off the tree from your wooden ladder and dropping them into the bucket hanging from your hand, a desire simmers in his stomach to be in your presence. The prince's guard follows behind him discreetly as the handsome individual makes his way over and speaks to you from below.

“May I assist you?” he offers.

His appearance startles you for a moment, then your stare unintentionally drops over the exposed skin of his upper frame. You ponder over the smoothness of his skin and imagine yourself leaving kisses upon his clavicle, on his chest, going downward further and further...

Clearing your throat and shaking your head to focus, you airily laugh at his question. The highness’s eyebrows crease, perplexed by your response.    

“Prince Huang—”

“Call me Renjun, please,” he interrupts, laying a palm against his chest. “I insist.”

“Prince Huang,” you reiterate, not wanting to breach the formalities. “It’s my duty—and an honor if I may add—to pick these lemons for you, not yours.”

“Well, as prince,” Renjun gently seizes the bucket away from your grasp. “I order you to allow me to assist you.”

Incredulously, you stare at him for a lingering moment and he engages equally, delving into your glowing aura.

Since you can’t reject his order, you yield and continue to pick the lemons off the tree, now plopping them into the bucket held by Renjun. Throughout the comfortable silence, he doesn’t take his eyes off of you for one second, admiring how elegant you are with the light breeze blowing through your hair.  

He wonders to himself if you’re aware of your devastating beauty.  

A couple of nights pass and during one evening, in the shared resting area, you find Renjun situated adjacent to the fireplace, reading a book alone (with a guard lurking close by, of course).

The prince’s features are already so soft, but he seems ethereal with the fire’s glow against his face. You’re reminded of the first night he arrived.  

As you usually do, you query if he needs anything before you retire to your room.  

He replies negatively, but then adds, “Would you like to hear some of the story I’m reading before bed?”

Shaking your head, you tuck some of your hair behind your ear. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose—”  

“Not at all,” Renjun beams. He gestures for you to sit in the seat beside him, and you do so with prickling cheeks.  

His fingers flip a few pages back and he tells the short story from the beginning. Your cheek tips into your palm as you listen intently. Yes, the story is intriguing, but you’re also focused on Renjun’s voice. It’s soothing, yet lively with the specific parts in which he modulates his tone to flow perfectly with the storytelling.

And then you drift over his plush, kissable lips. You will yourself to focus on the story, rather than the reader.

In between his reading, he peers up from the pages to see if you’re still interested to hear the rest of the story, not wanting to waste your time nor bore you to death. He reads the dazzling expression on your face as a signal to finish until the very end.

When it’s over, Renjun asks if you enjoyed it. You hum positively and stand up, excusing yourself to formally leave for the night. You exchange pleasant good-nights and sweet dreams. While you shuffle off, before you’re past the doorway, he pipes up—

“Perhaps I can read you another story tomorrow evening?”

You turn around by the end of his sentence, grasping onto the doorframe.

Renjun continues, his grip tightening around the closed book. “If you wish.”

Your lips press together, in hopes to suppress a grin. It doesn’t work too well.  

“I’d like that very much.”

Time flies, and it’s already the second to last day before Renjun’s departure. Your family decides to arrange a party at the inn, inviting the fellow townspeople to join as well.  

Fittingly, Renjun sits in the middle of the long table alongside his associates and is entertained by the spectacle of the event. After the townspeople grant him gifts and dinner is served, the dancing commences. Throughout the evening, he keeps a constant eye out for you.

All night, you serve the guests and barely have time to properly eat your own meal. However, as the night lengthens, your parents urge you to live a little. In the middle of the hall, you rush to unite with your close friends, clasping onto their hands and dancing around in circles to the merry music.

The royal figure radiates, enticed from the scene of you laughing and jumping in joy, having never seen this side of you before. His heart flops at the endearing sight and an itch overcomes him. Taking a sip of his wine, Renjun anxiously wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and heads towards you onto the dance floor.  

Gasps trail behind his steps as he floats through the domino effect of bowing people. He casually says his thank you’s to everyone in passing and as the domino effect finally reaches a stop within the middle of the room, you’re the last one to formally greet him.

“Your Royal Highness,” you curtsy with a small smile.

He acknowledges with a bow of his head and shocks you by holding his palm out.

“May I share a dance with you?”

Your heart pounds in your ears as you glance around the room to ensure he’s talking to you and not mistakenly someone else. Additionally, you’re surveying the prospects because you are definitely not the most worthy to dance with royalty; the mayor’s daughter should be owed this dance, not you. You also shamefully touch your work outfit, wishing you were wearing something cleaner and more extravagant.

“Prince Huang, are you sure you want to dance with me?” you murmur, despite how everyone quieted down and can hear what you’re saying.

“Of course,” he stretches out for your hand and possesses it in his.

“Who else would I want to share a dance with?”

Your friends and all other parties now disperse and surround the two of you, dancing to their own fulfillment as you’re left in an imaginary bubble with just Renjun. Every twirl, spin, and bounce generates endless vivacious laughter from the both of you. You dance deeper into the night until your faces and feet soon ache, until it was almost only the two of you on the dance floor.      

Because of the aching, you stumble at one point, crashing into Renjun’s body.

He catches you in his arms. You look up into his eyes, then at his lips merely fingertips away from yours. Renjun’s liquored panting fans your face and you drown in it without reservation.

His eyes flicker to your lips too, and he gulps. Bravely, he raises his palm to caress your cheek, but as his skin touches yours, it jolts you to your core, popping you out of your secluded bubble and dragging you into reality.

Pulling apart from him, the prince asks if you’re okay.

You nod thoughtlessly, quickly thank him for the dance, and spew that you should begin to clean-up the hall, leaving him on the dance floor.

Renjun brings a finger to his lips and watches you run off.  

The last evening of his stay finally arrives. In your nightgown before bedtime, forgetting to ask if he needed anything before you changed out of your work clothes, you knock on his room’s door with the guard on-duty beside it.

His muffled voice beckons you to come in, and you open the door ajar to creep your head through the space. Noticing it’s you, he immediately drops the book he was reading onto his bedside table.  

“Prince Huang, did you need anything else before you leave tomorrow?”

Legs dangling off the largest bed at the inn, he thinks to himself for a few moments. He twists his mouth to one side, tapping a finger on his chin.

“I think I have everything in order...”

Then, he tilts his head to one side and puckers his lips. He darts onto his feet and adds, “Can you come in for a moment though? And please shut the door behind you.”

You’re taken aback by his request. Nevertheless, you fulfill it and close the door behind you as you walk in. Renjun’s eyes widen at the sight of you in your nightgown, clicking together why you didn’t fully come into his room in the first place.  

You rub one of your arms. “Sorry for my indecent clothing—”

“No, I’m sorry, uhm,” he palms the back of his neck nervously. “I just wanted to say a few words, so I’ll be quick.”  

He steps closer to you. Both of you stand in the middle of the room and he continues.

“Before I leave, I want to make sure you know that I quite enjoyed my stay here because of you and your family’s fine service, but I enjoyed it even more because of your cordial company.”

At his earnest appraisal and personal compliment, your cheeks flare and your jaw dangles. You bow with your head. “Thank you, Prince Huang.”

Renjun then faces the floor and picks at his fingers, trying to formulate his thoughts.

“I don’t normally do this and I’m about to ask the following not as a prince, but as a normal man. And let me preface it by saying that, as a man of my word, you are not obligated or pressured to agree to what I’m about to ask; you have every right to say no.”

He sputters everything so fast, it takes a bit for you to process his words. When it sinks in, you’re still unsure exactly what he’s talking about. Worried, you raise your eyebrows, anticipating his inquiry.  

Noting your confusion, he exhales a lengthy breath and goes straight to the point.

“As a send-off and to demonstrate my gratitude…”

He meets your gaze.

“May I kiss you?”

Your jaw, along with your eyes, hangs this time. Awestruck, you blink rapidly and inhale sharply as you stay frozen in place.

“I know it may be one-sided, but at yesterday’s gathering, I thought we shared a special moment and perhaps it’s my fault I acted upon it since we were among people, so I apologize for that—”

“You may kiss me,” you cut him off, relieved to hear his thoughts, and close the space between yourselves.

It’s his turn to don the rapid blinking.

“Are-are you sure?”

Cautiously, his palm cups your cheek, mirroring the memory of last night, then he adds his other.

“Yes, Pr-”

“Renjun, please.”

“Yes, Renjun—”

You collide as he captures your lips. He exudes innocence and it shows in his kissing; he starts off gently and barely expands his mouth. Each movement is lovely and oozes affection. Your fingers tug lightly at his nightwear, body humming emphatically in response.

However, as he tests the water, his kissing is soon stripped of innocence and is replaced by a sinful hunger. While his tongue slips into your mouth, grazing against your teeth, his hands traverse your body and confront your waist and neck, squeezing them upon arrival. You eagerly reciprocate his change of pace, desperately running your fingers through his hair and angling your neck to better the searing, open-mouthed kisses.

Since there aren’t many layers covering either of you, you’re blatantly aware of Renjun’s growing desire against your body.

Pressing his forehead against yours, he pants, “May I take you to bed?”

You bob your head fervently and croak, “Yes.”

“Yes…?”

You grin into the next kiss at his playfulness.

“Yes, Renjun.”

In retrospect, being taken in a guest room at your family’s inn was strange, but you couldn’t think much of it within the moment.

At the moment, all you yearn for is Renjun’s weight on you, locking your body into the bed with his. Lip-locked as he lays you down, he satisfies your yearning hastily.

While he dominates your neck, one of his hands is rashly underneath your nightgown and ascends to the haven of your breasts. You gasp at the initial contact, your fingers tightening in his hair and over his shoulder blade.

He kneads the meat of your tits momentarily, but he’s more fixated on attending to your nipples. Renjun’s thumb tenderly rubs over them prior to his loving pinches. At this point, his mouth zones in and nibbles on your earlobe, so he listens to your rising panting and erotic moans crystal clear.

Following his massaging and playing of your other breast, he withdraws from you to disrobe your layer in one-go and you return the favour to peel away his.  

Renjun’s purity ignites once more as he reveres your bare body, lovingly scanning all your curves and lines.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he whispers.  

Fluttering your eyelids, you lightly bite your bottom lip between your teeth. Truly, it was too easy for him to make your cheeks spark this often. He converges with your mouth sweetly before he wraps his pretty lips around your nub.

“Oh, my God, Renjun—”

Because your eyes snap in gratification, you can’t see the smirk on his face. He indulges in you calling him by his first name, especially so melodiously and within this context. A hand finds purchase upon the neighbouring breast, and another hovers under your warmth. Your hips buck heedlessly, begging for his fingers to dive further.  

They do so when he switches his embrace upon your breasts. Although you know he must feel it, the obscene, loud sounds of him fingering your sex confirm how wet you are for him. Renjun peeks an eye open to your wanton self. He adores the view in addition to your dripping pleasure contracting and spilling over his digits.  

Moving ahead, he retreats from you and mounts himself on the bed on his knees, stroking himself to harden himself for what’s to come. Despite still being breathless from your high, you rise onto your knees to match his stance in front of him.

Your dominant hand grasps his possession, taking over for him. Simultaneously, your mouth finally has the chance to reign over the smoothness of his frame—his neck, his carved clavicle, the expanse area of his chest, and his soft abdomen. He sighs blissfully, eyes batting.        

Your mouth proceeds lower to where your hand is located and aids to the swelling of Renjun’s desire. He gawks, mouth hanging, at the beautiful arching of your back and your enthusiasm as you engulf him.

Gripping him by the base, you stroke to the measure of your bobbing. To keep him enraptured, you occasionally focus on his tip, such as with the swirling and flicking of your tongue and initiating vigorous, targeted sucking. Not wanting him to reach climax yet, you pull away from him with a pop, but not before you leave a delicate kiss upon the glossy apex.

Once again, you recline downward onto the bed, except now with spread legs. Renjun pumps his wet length and lines it up with your glistening crevice. You stare at his cock upon penetration, and the flood of sensations from the impact causes you to crane your head into the pillow.  

Hands encompassing your waist, the lover thrusts gradually at first, allowing you to acclimatize to his girth. After some time, he surrenders to his carnal urges and plunges deeper with speed. Your chest heaves as your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving half-moons on his skin. Lowering himself, he secures your lips for a fleeting, sentimental moment.

To your surprise, Renjun picks up the rhythm even further, leading you to wail his name and incoherent noises repeatedly. In hopes to quell yourself, you lightly bite down on the meat of your index finger. It only partially helps since whimpers still trickle out from you.  

Both of you are nearing. Aching to be even more intimate with you, his hand flees from the flank of your body and over your head to lace his fingers with yours. His intertwining compresses alongside the pinching of his face. With your finger in pain, you release it and let loose. As one, you moan in sync with Renjun and you break together. He extracts himself, painting your stomach in white ribbons.  

Inhaling much needed air, you settle upon Renjun’s chest with his arm around you. He trifles with your fingers in his before he kisses the back of your hand.

“If you ever have the chance to come by the kingdom, I implore you to find me.”

Peering up at him, you agree enthusiastically. “Of course, Renjun.”  

With pink tinting over his face, he cups you by your chin.

“Promise?”

Hesitancy pumps through your blood. You know the chances of you ever leaving your home town would be very unlikely, and even if you could, you two could never be together for he is of royal blood, and you of none.

Nevertheless, you dare not to break the twinkling, awaited expression upon his face, so you reply—

“I promise.”

Sharing another kiss, you stay with him in the bed for a little while longer, savoring the brief amour as much as possible.

[tennessoui]

1. Soulmates AU please! It is definitely my guilty pleasure trope

hello im only three months ish late maybe four but this is also 3.4k long and it's just wild i mean we're talking soul mates, superheroes, rushed world building, superhero names this is a trip this is something i wrote after waking up from a four hour nap this ever had a chance and also it's sad

1. Soul Mates (+ 42. Star Crossed Lovers)

“You shouldn’t have come,” Obi-Wan says harshly, pulling the children--they’re just goddamn children--into his apartment and slamming the door behind them. “Did anyone see you?”

The children--all four of them--stay quiet. Obi-Wan wants to wring their necks. He knows why they’re here. He’d rather them die on the streets than suffer through what they’re obviously here about.

But if that were really true, he would have just left them on his doorstep.

“Did anyone see you?” he asks again.

“Not that we noticed,” one of the girls in the middle says. Shili, dressed in a blue and white striped sensible jumpsuit and sporty cape. The leader of the new generation of superheroes and she sounds like she hasn’t even hit puberty yet.

Obi-Wan is suddenly very, very tired.

“Kam,” Shili gestures to the person next to her and a little behind, a tall boy with a helmet covering his face and white and blue armor covering the rest of him, “says he didn’t pick up anything with his sensors. We were safe. We’re not trying to get you caught, sir. We just need to talk to you.”

“You could kick us out,” the other girl points out, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s not even bothering to wear a domino mask, but Obi-Wan doubts very much he’s looking at her real appearance. She’s Mirial, of course.

Which makes the other boy in a padded white and orange suit Mando. Four of the fifty or so remaining Jedi superheroes are in his house.

Obi-Wan sighs and turns to pad down the hallway. “Shoes off,” he calls behind his shoulder. “And does anyone want any tea?”

“No thank you,” Shili responds politely, falling into step behind him.

“Sit,” he tells them roughly when he notices the four of them standing awkwardly in his cramped dining room. “Sit down.”

He puts the kettle on anyway, and bangs around the cabinets for a few seconds to find an unopened bag of chips and a sleeve of probably stale cookies.

He doesn’t have much else to offer them though. Not now.

Weren’t you the one always telling me to eat my vegetables? A laughing voice murmurs into his ear. Look at you now.

Obi-Wan has to stand for a second in his small and dirty kitchen, chips clutched in one hand and cookies in the other, and breathe for an impossibly long moment.

This is why he had not wanted to ever see another Jedi in his life. All they brought with them were questions and ghosts.

Obi-Wan has enough of those as it is.

The kettle goes off and he pours the hot water into his mug. The cowardly part of him that hasn’t faced a fight in ten years now wants to wait here until the tea has finished steeping and then think of a thousand other excuses to not ever leave the kitchen again. He's good at thinking of excuses. He calls them reasons and lives his life with them.

But he has always known someone would eventually come looking for answers. That had always been one of the prices he knew he would eventually have to pay.

He notices immediately upon entering the dining room that they’ve saved him a seat, if it counts as saving someone a seat when they’ve rearranged the chairs so one is on one side of the table and the other two are squeezed opposite it.

“I hope you don’t mind that I’ve brought snacks to my own interrogation,” he says blithely, depositing them onto the table in front of the children.

Kamino stares intently at them for a second, and then nods once to Shili, who reaches out to open the bag of chips. In a show of good faith, she takes one and eats it. Obi-Wan can’t see her eyes underneath the white lenses of her domino mask, but he’s quite sure she hasn’t stopped looking at him once.

“Are you sure you do not want tea, now we have established I am not going to poison you?” he asks, crossing his ankles and taking a sip from his own mug.

“It’s a bit too warm out there for hot tea,” Mirial says disdainfully, looking at her nails. “You know, what with the world on fire.”

“But I’d take an iced one, if you have it,” Shili leans forward.

Obi-Wan pauses, drink halfway to his mouth.

He sets it down gently on the wood of his table. “Ah. Going straight in, aren’t we?”

“There’s not much time for anything else,” Mando says, and at least he sounds a bit apologetic.

“A weighty statement from someone who can manipulate time itself,” Obi-Wan hums.

“Only for a few seconds,” Mando mutters behind his helmet, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“That’s because you don’t have much in the way of training, young man,” Obi-Wan tells him gently with a hint of steel behind it “Back in my day--”

He cuts himself off. He doesn’t know why. Clearly, they know who he used to be. Otherwise they wouldn’t be here. He’s really just delaying the inevitable, but his throat feels tight. This truth, so long unspoken, is hard to drag into his mouth. And yet, every second he doesn’t speak it, it’s bashing itself to death against the backs of his teeth.

“Would you like us to tell you what we’ve found out about your days?” Mirial asks, looking up from her nails. “Would that make it easier for you, Ilum?”

“Meer--” Shili starts to say, reaching out to touch the girl’s arm, rein her in, but it’s too late.

The planes of Mirial’s face change and shift and suddenly for the first time in ten years, Anakin Skywalker is sitting across from him. “Would you like to talk about the old days, or would you like me to talk about the old days?” Mirial in Anakin’s smooth baritone asks.

It’s cruel. It’s so cruel that for a second Obi-Wan wishes his heart could just stop from the pain of it all. “Please put that away,” he tells the tabletop coldly. “And please. Do not call me that.”

“Meer,” Shili murmurs, and there’s a shift in the air.

When Obi-Wan looks back up, Mirial is back to the way she always appears in press releases, green skin and all. “That was a decent impression,” he tells her. She bristles at the perceived slight, but he holds up his hand. “But when I knew him, his eyes weren’t gold. They were blue.”

“Mustafar has had golden eyes since he joined the Imps,” Mirial argues back in a way that reminds Obi-Wan of another young teenager, who never could learn how to take criticism well.

“And he was someone else before then,” he tells the girl. “He had another name and he had a mother and he had a soulmate and a--fiancee and everything.”

His hands have started to shake, so he clasps the mug tightly, though it burns him.

“Tell us,” Shili insists forcefully but compassionately. Obi-Wan had wondered before why they had chosen to make the girl whose only ability is to fly the leader of the newest Jedi team, but it must be that. It must be her compassion. “Please. You’re the only one who can.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says. “I know. I’m the only one who is left. But if I am to demask myself, I will not do it to a table of strangers.”

The children turn to look at each other. Kamino cocks his head at Shili, who inclines her own head. Mirial shrugs. Mando shakes his head once, but Shili seems to override him, because she turns back to Obi-Wan and takes off her domino mask.

“My name is Ahsoka Tano,” she says, stumbling over the name. Obi-Wan wonders how many times she’s unmasked herself before. “Or Shili.”

She nudges Mirial, who sighs. “I’m Barriss,” she tells him grudgingly.

Kamino takes off his helmet to reveal a strong-jawed boy with a blond buzzcut. “His name is Rex,” Ahsoka says. “He can’t speak except through minds.”

Obi-Wan blinks in surprise at this. He had known that Kamino had an advanced sense of the senses, could tell something’s molecular makeup just by looking at it, could smell a gas leak from two miles away, etcetera, etcetera, but he hadn’t known the boy could communicate telepathically as well.

“And I’m his twin,” Mando sighs, taking off his own helmet and revealing a startlingly similar face, marred by a scar just across his temple. “Cody.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Obi-Wan tells them, drumming his fingers on the table. “You know already. I fought under the name Ilum. I could--”

He searches for words to describe his own powers, and settles instead on a demonstration. With a flick of his hand, the liquid in the mug rises and freezes into a miniature wave, suspended in the air.

He lets the ice drop into the mug, and inclines his head to Ahsoka. “Iced tea?” he asks wryly.

“Tell us about Mustafar,” Mando demands. What a heavy thing to carry, Obi-Wan finds himself thinking. The knowledge of all that time.

What Obi-Wan wouldn’t give to be ten years younger again. Not to even change anything, though he would be stupid to not try to. But to just enjoy the moment for what it had been in the end: just a moment.

“We didn’t call him that then,” Obi-Wan sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “We called him Iego in uniform, and Anakin in civvies.

“He was...radiant. In battle and off the field. I was the leader of our team for six years until Anakin came along. And I just knew as soon as I saw him that he would take everything from me. But he wouldn’t have had to take it. I would have given it to him right then.”

“I didn’t think he was that attractive,” Ahsoka mumbles, and then slaps a hand over her mouth as if afraid she’s spoken out of turn and ruined the story so completely that Obi-Wan won’t say anything else.

Instead, Obi-Wan laughs but it doesn’t sound much like a laugh at all. “Well, to each is his own, of course,” he says when he thinks the hysteria has worn off. “And finding out he carried my soul mark certainly helped.”

The room is blissfully silent, which Obi-Wan is beyond thankful for. He just wants to let those never-before admitted truths hang in the air, just for a few more seconds. He almost wants to say them again actually. Anakin Skywalker is my soulmate. Anakin Skywalker carries the same mark I carry, and he always has.

“But…” Barriss says slowly, “But Mustafar’s soulmark is on his neck.”

“It’s not,” Obi-Wan murmurs, staring at the wall behind their heads. “What he has on his neck is an ice burn scar in the shape of a hand. In the shape of my hand. His actual soul mark is on his mid-back, right over his spine.”

“You tried to kill your soulmate?” Ahsoka gasps, looking horrified.

Obi-Wan smiles with no joy behind it. “I tried to save the world,” he corrects her gently.

“You said earlier…” Cody speaks up. “That Mustafar--that Anakin had a fiancee. It wasn’t you, was it?”

“No,” Obi-Wan admits. “I never told him. I...couldn’t. I wanted to wait I suppose. I. Well. My soulmark is identical to his, but it’s on my thigh. And. You know what they say about a soulmatch whose marks aren’t in the same spot.” “Star crossed,” Ahsoka whispers.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan confirms. “I decided to wait. I was a few years older than him, he had so much to learn, he needed a friend more than he needed a soulmate. I had a long list of reasons, all as iron-clad as the next. But they were excuses. I was afraid. This man, my soulmate, could control fire and sunlight itself. He burned with passion, shone with power. And I...I was cold. Too pragmatic, too quick to criticize when he needed praise. The marks were just marks. Maybe they fit together, maybe they matched. But I was terrified that we wouldn’t.

“And by the time I thought to tell him, he came to find me instead. He was in love, he said. He had been seeing a girl for months and was going to ask her to marry him. And I suppose I must have asked about his soulmate, because he told me he would rather never know his soulmate, if knowing meant losing her.”

So. So Obi-Wan had let him go, though that part doesn’t make for a good story. He had distanced himself as much as he could get away with, which is not much really, seeing as how Iego and Ilum fought best when they fought together.

But in the end, his heartbreak had been too much, even for someone as cold as Obi-Wan had been known to be. He’d put in for a temporary transfer. A remedial medical leave, a Jedi-sanctioned sabbatical so he could ostensibly connect with himself and his powers. Nothing longer than a year.

You’ll miss the wedding, Anakin had told him, heartbreak shining in his own eyes.

But his heartbreak had been nothing compared to Obi-Wan’s, and so he had left. He had needed to. It had felt like rending his soul in two, but he had.

Two weeks into his stay at a different Jedi training base, Obi-Wan had died in an explosion. “That hadn’t been Jedi sanctioned,” he tells the children in front of him wryly. “We thought it was an accident at the time, but there were too many coincidences. Too many casualties.” But Obi-Wan’s death had been the only casualty Anakin had felt. It hadn’t mattered that someone had managed to restart his heart only a few minutes later. He had died. He had died and Anakin had felt his soulmate die. He had burned his fiancee in his own uncontrollable agony. She had not survived Obi-Wan’s death, even though Obi-Wan himself had.

“I...I don’t know what happened. Still. It’s been years and I have thought of little else. She may have been standing too close to him when it happened. Or...the house may have caught on fire and she was trapped inside. Or...I don’t know. I don’t know,” he spreads his hands palm up on the table and looks at the faces of the children.

He sighs and continues. There is so little left in the story now. “The Jedi Order decided to tell the press that there had been no survivors, though there had been a few. We couldn’t know if the Imperials were behind the attack or not, so we had to be careful. The survivor’s families were told, and their soulmates. Officially, I had no family. I had...no soulmate. They didn’t tell anyone I had survived. Ilum died in that explosion. Still to this day, he's dead.

“Anakin had always been absurdly powerful...and dangerous. He’d killed the love of his life, had felt his soulmate dying, and then...heard that I too had died. The first two had destabilized him, but my death and the Jedi Order’s staunch rejection of his request to see my body, to give me a funeral...it made him even more vulnerable to outside manipulation.”

“The Imperials….” Cody murmurs.

Obi-Wan nods, lip curling up. “The Imperials,” he agrees. “The timeline is fuzzy. I spent a good part of these weeks partially dead, one foot in both worlds. I didn’t know what was going on. When I was well enough to watch the news, the Jedi told me there was a new super villain working with the Imperials, going by the name Mustafar. I trained to kill him as he was helping the Imps decimate the Jedi. All of my old team was dead. Anakin was missing. I didn’t--”

He cuts himself off and runs a hand down his face. The children are waiting on his words. He’s telling them why they’re fighting wars adults should be fighting. He’s telling them why they’re out in the field after only a month or less of training. He’s trying to tell them why he isn’t out there fighting with them, but he knows already they won’t accept his excuses.

They shouldn’t have to.

“They gave me a new uniform and a new name,” Obi-Wan picks up the story. “Hoth. And I went off to kill my soulmate.”

“But you didn’t,” Barriss says, and she sounds vaguely confused and vaguely accusatory.

“I almost did,” Obi-Wan admits, like it’s a sin, like it's salvation. “Everything about him was different. He was not the passionate but warm boy I had known. He was a forest fire. A volcano. And Mustafar’s fighting style was completely different from Iego’s. I only realized it was Anakin--my Anakin--when I managed to knock his mask off. I had my hand around his throat, but when I realized who I was fighting...I let go. I couldn’t kill him. Even after everything he did. Even knowing...knowing Iego was gone.”

The dining room is silent for a second, before three voices burst out angrily at once.

“Why aren’t you helping the Jedi?” Ahsoka asks the loudest. “Hoth--Ilum, Obi-Wan. We need you. Mustafar--the Imperials...they’re not going to stop. They’ve killed so many Jedi. We need you to help us.”

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan says. “I cannot.”

“You used to be a hero,” Barriss accuses. “Now what are you? A hollowed out, sad man.”

“I was never a hero,” he snaps. “I followed orders. Anyone can do that.”

“You were the best,” Cody says quietly, cutting Obi-Wan to the bone. “You led the Geonosis team for six years. I studied you in class. You were...the best.”

“I wasn’t,” Obi-Wan disagrees just as quietly. “But perhaps you all are.”

“You haven’t even told us any weakness we could use against him in battle!” Barriss shouts, standing up suddenly, which causes the chair to clatter over. “You’ve been no help at all! I’m leaving, this is a waste of time!”

“Barriss--!” Ahsoka cries after the girl, grabbing her discarded mask and taking after her.

Cody opens his mouth and then closes it. He jams the helmet back onto his head. “The soulmark. You said it’s on his hip?”

Obi-Wan smiles mirthlessly. Cody is trying to see if he can catch him in a lie, if this is actually good tactical information or not. “It’s a few inches below his shoulder blades, right over his spine.”

Cody nods once and then files out, leaving Obi-Wan alone in the room with the silent, still helmetless Rex.

“I just told him how to kill my supervillain soulmate,” Obi-Wan tells Rex, even though he’s really talking to himself. “Soulmarks, even dead ones, are extremely sensitive. If Anakin had hit me with his fire on my other thigh, I would be dead. Not just crippled. Muscle, young man, doesn’t grow back easily.”

He rubs a hand over the leg in question, staring down at the uneven way his pants lay over the old injury. It aches from the walking he’s forced it to do today, from trying to walk normally im front of these powerful strangers.

Rex taps the table to get him to look up, and then gestures to his own eyes.

“I?” Obi-Wan asks, confused.

Rex rolls his eyes and then mimes writing something.

“Ah, there should be a pen and pad in the kitchen?” he trails off as the teenager goes to retrieve the aforementioned things.

It takes a second longer than it should, and he comes out carrying just a slip of paper with his helmet forced back onto his head.

With a flick of his fingers, the paper’s lying on the table and Rex is following his teammates out the door and out of Obi-Wan’s apartment and hopefully out of his life forever.

Curious, Obi-Wan grabs the note and unfolds it to read.

We thought Musta. had yel. eyes because all the top Imps have yel. eyes. But if Ankn had blue eyes, then mybe none of the imps should have yel eyes.

No one knows what sidious power is -> what if it’s mind control?

Obi-Wan puts the note down onto the table with shaking hands. He wishes desperately he had never read it.

Because those words plant a seed of hope in his chest he isn’t sure he’ll be able to live without now.

What if Anakin--his Anakin--what if he’s in there still? What if Obi-Wan had abandoned him to ten years of brainwashing and mind control with not much of a fight at all?

But more pressingly, what if there’s hope for him? For both of them? Still, after all this time?

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH.2

Getting back to your little one story cottage, you can only manage to rush in and run about in a mad dash as you try to accomplish getting ready for work and getting something to eat. Running through choices in your head as you change and freshen up, nothing sounds good. There's not much time since your shift starts at nine and to make it to the store you need to leave by eight twenty. You got home at eight fifteen, and while Nate, your manager, has never seemed to give a fuck what you did at work you're still in your probationary period and would like to keep the easiest job you've ever had.

It's a really simple gig, seeing as the store you work at is actually a front for some illegal activity. The variety of crime you aren't sure of, but you are aware there's no way you guys do no business and yet they can afford to pay thirty dollars an hour. Thankfully just keeping your mouth shut and being nice to little Jo, the owner's daughter, is enough to keep you in the cushiest job in the world. The store's front is a regular old book store, all the books are real, the registers work, you're able to sell books and you've run to the bank to do the weekly deposits twice for Book & Nook. The front is very legitimate or it would be if the amount of customers ever equaled the sales made.

Again you don't ask questions, because for thirty dollars an hour you get to goof off for a couple hours a day, plus you get a bonus when you watch little Jo at the shop. She's a real sweet eleven year old, she's got tourettes and took a shine to you the first time she saw you tic. While you both might not suffer the same disorder she finds the common ground nice, like it's not just her. It's not even hard to watch her or enjoy her company, she'll come bouncing in with her excited chittering and hands clapping spilling all the latest gossip that comes with being in middle school. And boy is there a lot of gossip.

It's really nice seeing that Jo has friends at school and is even considered a “popular” kid. You remember how tough school was because no one understood you and teachers never cared enough about your personality to bring up the fact that it was clear to most faculty members that you had Autism. You excelled academically so what did it matter if you got picked on for oversharing information or for finishing assignments the minute they were handed to you. As bittersweet as the parallels are you're so glad Jo doesn't have to go through that. Never would have thought a southern school could be so accepting, much less a middle school at that.

Tearing through the kitchen you honestly can't find anything that you want to eat right now. And even after a long night of hiking/dissociating you don't think you're that peckish at all. Figuring it's best to at least take something to quell any future nausea you grab a Pedialyte Pop from the freezer. As fast as you entered your home you left, and not before ensuring twice that the door was locked and secured. While living on the outskirts of town saves you from many potential robberies, and worse salesmen, there's still the chance of some lunatic with an ax hiding out in a closet to murder you. Better safe now than sorry later.

Pulling into park behind the shop right at nine is a blessing. You run into the shop to clock in blurting out a quick 'Morning' to Nate, who was carrying a particularly large box, as you passed by him. In a flash you were back at your car retrieving your newly prized deer skull. Lungs burning a bit from the all out sprint you just did you took a little extra time to close the trunk and lock your car up to catch your breath, and avoid any light headiness you might get from the empty stomach workout. Eager to share the wonders of death with your best work friends, and by that you mean Nate your manager...and only other coworker, you rush back into the building.

The shop was quiet as usual as you made your way through the door though you were in the back room where only employees could roam you had the slightest suspicion that the front of shop was just the same. It's there you find Nate, now lugging a medium sized box around to a side table. He did this a lot you suspect some type of smuggling but hey plausible deniability and all those legal matters. The taller dark haired man sees you and just as he's about to wave you over, notices your prize with a raised brow.

“The fuck d'you bring in the store?” he doesn't seem amused by whatever it is he thinks you're up to. “Deer skull.” Lifting it up in one hand and pointing at it, “Found this guy on my hike last night...or rather this morning actually.”

“YN, we talked about this, you said you'd get some sleep last night. No adventures remember.” he's only two years older than you and yet he acts as if he's ten years. He must be an old soul, or enjoys the role of care giver...or you're making him go gray prematurely, anything's possible.

“Eh, I remember saying I'd 'try' and get sleep.” for someone who's body is running on fumes your cheekiness is astronomical, “operative word being 'try', remember.”

It's a long silence as Nate decides if he wants to deal with your bullshit at this moment. After a minute or so he concedes leaning back on the table behind him. “Let's hear it.” and you perk up immediately.

“Cool, so I was walking along the tree line and spotted him, tried to find more but seems there's only one piece. Judging by the size of his antlers I'd say he was nearly fully grown. Now my plan is to do whatever treatments taxidermists do to bones and,” you continue to word vomit at the tired twenty-six year old in front of you, about the joys and wonders of taxidermy and the likely hood of ever finding a skull so nicely preserved.

“I can do that in here right?” even though it's been phrased as a question, you aren't asking permission, you're just being polite and letting Nate know the storage room will house your creepy deer skull antics for today...maybe the week you need to find a taxidermist book to figure out what you need to do.

Nate gives up and leaves with his box of new books to let you have full run of the back to do your weird vulture culture shit. He figures he's just too old to understand the new obsessions with the macabre. He hopes his cousin won't take to shit like this, the kid's weird enough as it is, no need to put another target on her back. Nate sets off to take down the Harry Potter sets in favor of this new comic series little Jo wanted.

Already taking his silence as the go ahead you place your found skull on the table and rush off into the store front to find a book on taxidermy and hopefully more specifically about bones. The set up and organization of the store reminds you a lot of the scene in Brendan Fraser's The Mummy 1997 where Evie is on the ladder and somehow causes all the book shelves to fall like dominoes. So unsafe, yet all book stores and libraries seem to have this set up. With the tall shelves it makes it difficult to accurately get a read on the spines. You don't even know what section taxidermy actually falls under, education maybe?

“Nate, where do you think a book on taxidermy would be?” you called out as you passed by him.

“...hobby?” that didn't sound right but you'd give it a shot anyway.

This should be fun, the hobby section was so disorganized and it took up nearly half the store too, Book & Nook had everything from fishing, to crochet, cooking, the art of film making, hell even had a cryptid hunting book a book that you may have to look into a bit later. You closed your eyes and let your intuition guide you, when you looked up you saw a thin black...vine, no whisp? It undulates in less than rhythmic movements nearly like a snake but it has no head, and not unlike a tentacle but without suckers. It's another hallucination so you were keen to ignore it until it stretched past your head, giving you an added auditory hallucination where you swore you could hear wind rushing past your ears, it swirled around you until it flew to the shelf and tapped on a book. Cautiously you walked over to it, it's never good to play into these delusions. Once you got close enough the black shape was gone but on the shelf was a creme colored paper back titled “Manual of Taxidermy: Complete Guide of Preserving Birds and Mammals.”

Walking to Nate with the book in your hands you asked him to read it and make sure you weren't having an episode and making everything up right now. You'd have to try harder to go to sleep tonight if that were the case.

“Oh you found your book huh?” he said looking down at the title.

Well this is getting weird fast, but you nod nonetheless. Might as well thank the weird hallucination gift right. Leaving him to do whatever it is he plans on doing the rest of the day, you go to the back. And just as the book instructs you set to cleaning the skull by setting it in some water and changing it as many times as the water runs murky. The book is quiet helpful to a beginner like yourself but it does seem a bit outdated from the bits of information you know from taxidermists blogs and vulture culture posts on the internet. Reading it in between water changes is a great way to pass the time though, not like you guys get any real customers anyways.

The bell rings as the front door opens and closes alerting you to someone's arrival on your third water change. Needing a little bit of mental stimulation you walk out into the front where Big Jo and Little Jo are talking to Nate. Little Jo sees you and skitters away from her father to rush you, she stops about a foot away and holds her arms wide open. She's a hugger but upon meeting you had never even thought people could be touch adverse so keeping in mind that you might not want to be touched she's learned to invite you into hugs and it's your choice to allow it or not. Placing a hand on your bicep you give a squeeze, checking your tolerance you find the thought bearable. Placing your arms outstretched at your sides Jo rushes your torso for her hug.

After she nearly body slammed you into the wall, and  let her death grip go she was off on a tangent about so many things. Her excited rapid blinking tic, one she developed after meeting you, triggering your own.

“Ok so you remember how last week I told you that Jessie Kinsleton said that Micheal Saleisa told Gigi B, not Gigi S. that Meghan,” you had no clue the lives of eleven year olds had gotten so complex, from the gossip you heard from Jo it seemed that the school's sixth graders were plotting for a war with an ice cream parlor up the street. No clue why, maybe just to fuck the system, kids are weird, preteens are weirder...and angry.

But you nod to Jo listening to her every word, and trying to calm your eyelids so you could actually open your eyes. After being told the sequence of events that would happen in the Tween Armageddon, something to do with Marco Salvator ordering three dozen donuts and a flock of geese, your eyes finally gained their ability to see back. Black whisps, much like the one from earlier, wandered all around your vision, it looked like a  dark smoke had settled eye level within the shop and was snaking through the isles.

Catching the movement of your eyes Jo looked around the shop too. Seeing nothing she turned back to you concerned, “Hey it's okay, nothin's there.”

Hearing the drop in volume of the normally chatty tween, Big Jo and Nate pause their conversation to turn their attention to you and follow you're gaze.

“Kid, you ain't sleepin' again?” Big Jo can already gauge by the bags under your eyes but he's a polite man so he feels the need to ask rather than state his assumptions.

“Day 6.” You answer simply, ever since you've started at Book & Nook the whole Cowell family became acutely aware of many of your disorders. By their record your longest time spent awake was ten days, you however adamantly say that you were an hour's mark away from ten full days so the longest you've been up is nine days in a row. And those are just the cases they know of since you've moved to Kepler.

Big Jo shook his head as a stern father would, which he is, “I have half the mind to send you home to rest.”

“That won't work.” you really don't mean to sound so coarse but it's so irritating having to go over this at least once a week.

“What about those gummy things Dia got you?”

“Long term that kind of stuff has no effect, sure it'll make me drowsie for an hour or two but even if it made me sleep one night I can't use it all the time. And before you ask the same questions again, caffeine has no real effect on me so limiting my intake will do nothing and weed doesn't do a thing for me either.” you state plainly, monotone as you present facts that everyone in the room already knows.

Looking at the stern face of Big Jo's and the exasperated face of Nate you continue, “I know it must be frustrating for you to not be able to help, but I'm content living like this. I like my late night adventures and when I do sleep it's really pleasant.”you threw in a smile for added comfort.

“Kid tha's not the point, there's somethin' wrong with you, medically I mean.” he's pinching the bridge of his nose, probably counting to ten to calm himself from raising his voice.

“Tons of people suffer from insomnia and there isn't anything a doctor could do for me except look for underlying conditions.” Big Jo's about to retort when you continue with, “Plus my dad and uncle both have insomnia as well so my case is due to the genetic lottery I lost.” You say with a hint of finality of your situation, you had to come to terms with this condition all the way back in high school. Having a decade to get used to your strange condition and the limitations it places on you from time to time. Whereas the Cowell family's only had two months to process this information, and you understand it'll take awhile before they stop being concerned. Same thing happened with you parents and friends back then too.

For now you're only met with more head shakes as if they were saying 'what are we going to do with you'. Leaving your medical issues aside Nate and Big Jo continue to talk shop, when the set up Nate just put on display catches Jo's eye.

Like lightening the tween was away from your side and by the new display shelf it looked like it held graphic novels. That's a first since you've been here, you walk over to join Jo knowing the second you do she'll start on about what's got her so excited. Most people might say you over indulge the child and coddle her but you actually just think it's really important to take interest in what makes kids happy. It helps them find their voices and also shows them that it's normal to get excited and like things.

“We got the TAZ graphic novels in?!” you hate rhetorical questions but smile and nod at her anyway.

“Have you read them? No, well you've listen to the podcast...what omg! Ok so there's these three brothers and their,” Jo begins regaling you with tales from the podcast known as The Adventure Zone and how fun they've made dungeons and dragons seem with their amazing story telling and funny characters.

You aren't sure if a show where the main group of heroes being called Tres Horny Bois is exactly age appropriate but when you look to Big Jo he kind of just shrugs it off. Turning you attention back to Jo who's now monologing about mongooses you just smile at the weird family you've found yourself in.

Let it be said that a tween with a slightly unhealthy fixation on something can find anyway to drag it back to that fixation. The day flew by with Jo explain the inner workings of dungeons and dragons, fifth edition, to you, her father, and her cousin after you mentioned why she didn't play. Apparently she'd love to but wanted a story fitting for her friend's to adventure. So being the good older cousin, father, and weird family friend you all were you came up with a story plot for her to use with her campaign.

The Jos had a lot of fun bonding over this little workshop and you guys even had food delivered so you and Nate could stay later. What was meant to just be a quick workshop turned into a mini family game night after you made several nearly impossible puzzles that wouldn't be used in Jo's campaign due to no one at the current table understanding how to solve it even after you showed them several times.

Overall it was fun and you think you might actually be tired enough to go to sleep tonight. You tried to stay and help clean up but Big Jo put his foot down and told you to go get some rest, he'd seen the way you occasionally look around the room as if something was moving behind them all. You may have started off as a cashier two months ago for him but his daughter has opened up a lot since meeting you and discovering that tics aren't so uncommon and there are people who wouldn't care or make a big deal out of them. Because of that you've earned your keep in his family, he already has you down on the list for Christmas cards.

Knowing you can't fight the six foot four man you roll your eyes and bid everyone good night, little Jo coming in to steal another hug from you and thank you for helping with her game. Checking on your skull you see the water's clear and dump it in the sink of the break room before leaving the skull to dry overnight, it's for sure gonna make Nate scream tomorrow, you can't help but chuckle at that.

Leaving through the back door and into the dusk colored parking lot you notice your trunk is popped open slightly. You definitely heard it shut earlier this morning. You blink before your head jerks to the right, unsettled by possibility of a break in and not risking it you head back inside.

“Hey, I think my car may have been broken into.” you stand awkwardly in the door way unsure of how to proceed.

Big Jo and Nate are out of the door as fast as they can. They find your car unlocked with the trunk popped, you know they weren't trying to brush you off when they asked several times if you did in fact lock your car this morning. After hearing your affirmative response each time, they began to inspect your car checking to make sure all wires are properly secured under the hood, Nate even retrieved the jack out of his own car to take a look under the car, ensuring the brakes hadn't been messed with. They started the car up just fine and it didn't appear tampered with. Even though nothing looked out of place and Nate's car, sitting in the same parking lot, hadn't been touched you appreciated them checking to make sure you were alright.

Knowing you're perceived as a woman by most, even outside of this small town, makes you uneasy when it comes to terms of abductions and violence. You know the chances and hear the stories whether it's from the victim's mouth or a podcaster's telling the story the dead can't. Nate offered to follow you home and make sure you were ok but you declined and said you'd call them both when you got home. Big Jo said to just call his home phone because Nate would be coming over tonight anyway, and if they didn't make it there before you called Dia was already at home and would pass the message along. You'll probably still try and give the shop a call if Dia answers, it wouldn't sit right with you if you wound everyone up just to not and at least try to settle their nerves.

With one final check of you car, the men even going so far as to lift seats up and feel under them, they sent you off. You drove carefully on the road tonight, ready to pull off into the shoulder at the slightest hint that something was wrong. Not even the radio was on something that you really didn't like driving without, but if there was the chance for you to catch a shift in tone of the machine you wanted to. Eventually you did end up making it home in one piece and you had called the Cowell family home, from the safety of your car, and got a spazztic eleven year old asking if you'd made it home alright. It took a little bit of coaxing but Little Jo calmed down and shouted to her parents that you were on the phone and alright.

“Kid,” looks like Big Jo took the phone away from Little Jo, “Everything ok on the drive.” Big Jo could hear the movement and shutting of your car door, he'd have to say he was relieved you waited until you were on the phone before exiting. He knew you lived out past the quiet zone in Old Lydia's house. A fact that did little for the unease he felt when he thought you were being watched.

“Oh, yea drive was fine, too quiet but fine.” you said simply as you began circling the cottage. Nothing seemed out of place on the outside, even looking above eye level where people tended to get sloppy in stalking or home invasion cases, everything seemed fine.

“Hope you don't mind if I keep you for a bit.” You had just unlocked your door and stepped in.

“Nah, kid 's fine.” you give a hum of acknowledgment as you look through the kitchen in cabinets, under cupboards, and even under the table.

“You're a smart kid.” he's taken that fatherly overtone that makes you roll your eyes. You understand the sentiment of parents and parental figures having pride in their child or ward but it's always been so weird to you when they feel the need to bring it up. Especially when they bring it up in situations that are dangerous, like can you not make it sound like someone's about to die.

Finding nothing in the living room, hall closet or bathroom you make sure all the windows are locked and dowels are in place to keep them from opening. And you double check that both the back and front doors are secured. You can hear the hushed whispers on the other end of the line, Dia must have just found out about your car, as you rustle through your kitchen utensil drawers taking out two forks before you make your way to your bedroom.

Once in your room you checked your closet and under your bed. Finding nothing you  went to the window in your room, the one right by your bed, you checked the lock, secured it in place with two dowels, and then covered it throwing a thick blanket over the curtain rod to ensure no one would be viewing you in your sleep or the precautions you were about to do. Turing around and locking your bedroom door you then jam one fork into the closed door crease, right below the locking mechanism, and jammed the other fork perpendicular through the prongs. You attempted to open the door with all your weight but only could get an inch in before the forks would stop more movement.

“Kid you alright over there?” it's rushed, he probably heard the commotion with your make shift lock.

“Yea, just had to add another lock to the door.” you trust the Cowell's but you understand how stupid it'd be to let them know exactly how you were defending yourself. Even if it wasn't them there's no telling if the person who broke into your car was outside and just good at hiding. You could also be too jumpy from your true crime shows but you figure it's better to be safe.

“I think everything's good Big Jo.” taking a final glance around your room eye's landing on the bed, “Think I'm even ready to go to sleep tonight too.” a small half laugh leaves your mouth.

“Alright kid, you call if you need anything got it.” it's an order not a request.

“Got it, good night.” Big Jo might think that'd been rude coming from anyone else but from you he can only roll his eyes at the brevity and the dial tone he's met with. He has his own sweep to do, if they were targeting his employee there was a reason. He hasn't had any problems since coming to Kepler but someone always eventually comes along who can't take a hint.

Even combing through your home with Big Jo on the line you didn't feel safe having your bed by the window anymore and moved it away and in front of the closet door. You'd rearrange your room later but for tonight this would have to do. By some grace of god you were actually able to shut your brain down tonight and rest. Maybe it was the excitement and merriment from hanging out with the Cowells or more likely the situation you find yourself in of perhaps being a target for something insidious.

Whatever the case may be you are off to the land of dreams before you know it. And unbeknownst to you the same eyes from this morning watch your home. They may not have seen what you did in there but they'd be sure to catch you when you come out. They'll wait all night to catch you if they have to.

[citydreamgrls]

they were roommates - part one

a weasley twins x fem!reader fic 

summary: she had nowhere to go, fleeing home to pursue something along the lines of freedom, so being welcomed into the entrepreneurial twins life was a whole world of new experiences waiting to happen. 

an: i would just like to point out that this isn’t a fic with a polyamorous relationship, sorry if that was what some people wanted, instead i wanted to keep which twin is the love interest a secret until the end. if u guys want to guess after reading this first part, feel free to do so, i would love to hear your guys’ reasons too !!  secondly, i would like to say a huge huge thank you to everyone for getting me to 600 followers, that’s absolutely mad like i’m blown away beyond compare, i love u all millions and billions i really am so grateful so thank you . hope you enjoy this first part, as always, <33

words: 5,790

warnings: swearing?

None of the nights seemed to turn into excitement, but this particular Tuesday evening in the Leaky Cauldron was passing slower than the rest had done. The paintings on the walls cast their weary eyes over the few lonely drinkers scattered across the dim room as even they contemplated calling it an early night. Y/n flicked through an old magazine and wondered if this place had ever seen much action, or whether the inn had become somewhere that paintings came to rest alongside grumpy travellers.

The girl hadn’t worked behind the bar long, only a handful of months now. But since then not a single bar fight had broken out, no one ordered anything out of the ordinary, and she struggled to remember seeing a single nice man pass through the doors. Besides the Weasley twins of course, who were running late for their weekly drink.

“Slow night?” Hannah came up behind her, carrying a stack of clean glasses and placing them under the counter. The girl swiped away her magazine and nodded, doing her best to hide the guilty blush that grew on her cheeks whenever she lied. It had always been a curse.

“I can do that if you want,” She offered, taking over and letting her boss stand up straight again. There was a strange air of awkwardness between the pair, despite the fact that they had grown close since she had started working as a barmaid.

“It’s been like this a lot lately, just… empty.” Hannah huffed, pulling up two stools and letting the younger girl sit beside her for a while.

“Yeah, makes the time pass a lot slower.”

“Neville’s getting worried,” The woman chewed her lip, gazing around at the lack of people. “He thinks it won’t be long before we need to do something drastic.”

“Should I be worried?” Y/n asked, knowing everything rode on this flimsy job.

Just as the girl posed her question the two front doors burst open, revealing the Weasley twins along with two others that she recognised from their past visits.

“I’ll talk to you later darling,” The boss stood, squeezing her shoulder and going to greet the regulars who she knew so well.

As Neville appeared from the back office to do the same she was called over to the far table by a man who she’d already brought too many drinks to. With a sigh, she obeyed his whines, and went over to see what he wanted.

“About time sweet cheeksh,” He slurred, his head propped up by a weary arm while the other gestured wildly as he spoke. “Another round darling-” She nodded, taking his money from the table and turning to leave, but he reached out for her hand.

She shivered beneath his touch, the stench of bile and alcohol filling her nose as she tried not to vomit on the spot. It was best to just ride out whatever he wanted, knowing better than to anger any kind of customer.

“Why don’t you join me when you get those drinks sorted- I haven’t got another chair but I’m sure my lap would do nicely.” He grinned, showing off the layer of yellow on his teeth.

Y/n gulped back her grunt and pretended to smile, sighing with relief when he let go of her and slumped against the wall beside him. The feeling of his hand lingered on her until she managed to distract her mind a little, smiling wider when the twins came up to the bar to order.

“Evening boys,” She sniffed back the nerves and greeted them with a polite welcome. “Not giving you trouble was he?” One of them asked, nodding over to the drunken mess.

“Nothing I can’t handle,”

“Well you let us know if not,” The other chimed, their charms always making her feel comfortable around them. Which was much more than could be said for most of the creeps who roamed the inn each night.

“That’s very good of you both, thank you-” Her smile never faltered, they always had noticed that, “What can I get for you then?”

“Two hog’s heads, one rum and I’ll have…”

“Come on Fred,” The other nudged his brother, the girl finally able to differentiate them, that was until the next day when she wouldn’t be able to recognise the clothes they chose.

“Firewhiskey would be great thanks y/n,” He smiled sweetly, leaning up against the bar as she rang up their orders on the till. He delved into the pockets of his trousers as George left to speak to Neville a bit longer, placing the money in her hand. “Keep the change too,” “A-are you sure?” She stuttered, looking down at the remaining 3 galleons in her hand.

“George never tips, so consider it his debt too.” The boy scoffed, leaving to join the rest of his group. The girl pocketed the money before anyone else could see her doing so and went to fix the drunken man his seventh drink of the night.

He grumbled about how much work he did that no one appreciated, as his eyes raked over her body in a queasily slow trance. The man didn’t stop at that, further pressing her to sit on his knee and let him feel her up. Crude remarks fell from his lips as if he’d relayed them to every woman he’d come across, as if it was second nature. All the while, she stood and let him ramble on, doing her best to ignore what he was saying and just nod along mindlessly. This wasn’t even the worst one, the girl sighed to herself, grimacing at the way his fingers toyed with the hems of her skirt as if he was going to try and slither inside it.

With perfect timing, Neville called her back to the bar, faking some questions about the menu so that she had an excuse to dismiss herself from the dog’s company and scurry off. She heard him call after her, but couldn’t make out what exactly it was he was saying. The girl prayed that he was too drunk to actually get up and walk over to the bar, or else he would become truly relentless.

-

No matter what, y/n always smiled, regardless of who was talking to her or at her. And when she wasn’t dealing with the unruly men of diagon alley, she was happy, she was lucky that she had a job and somewhere to stay. She had no reason to be unhappy.

Fred and George liked that about her. That in such a dimly lit, run down little place like the cauldron, such light could shine through with her presence. Both of them had mentioned it once on their drunken walk back home one night, that they wished they could afford to hire someone else at the shop because she would be perfect for it.

Y/n always smiled because most of the time she was a happy person, until there was no reason to be happy. She discovered that dreadful sinking feeling later that night once the pub closed and the girl was finishing up with her cleaning.

Neville and Hannah were speaking in hushed voices nearby, words that she couldn’t make out over the sound of her brush swishing over the stone ground. But they continued to glance over at her when they believed she wasn’t watching, which made her heart tighten with nervous anticipation.

“Y/n… darling.” Hannah’s sweet voice sounded through the empty room, startling her slightly. The girl stood up straight and smiled, a sight which made her boss want to cry on the spot. None of this was going to be easy. “Could you come into the office with me, please.”

She followed, her hands shaky as she left the broom leant up against a lone table. The door shut behind them with a finalising jolt as the woman sat down before her, prompting her own body to do the same.

The air became thick, and constricting as her knees locked together politely. Hannah seemed just as nervous as she, delaying the inevitable by shuffling paperwork around and shoving into nearby drawers. Finally the movement ceased and she had no choice but to bite the bullet.

“I know we already spoke today, about how the business is going here, and I promise that Neville and I have tried to do everything we can to get around this. But I’m afraid we’ve been left with no other choice y/n.”

The sound of her name felt like a stab, one short sound that cut through her skin and deep into the bone. The girl dwelled on that feeling, hoping that whatever followed would hurt less in contrast. It didn’t.

“We have to let you go y/n,” The knife plunged deeper, somehow splitting open all her organs on its way through her body. She froze, knowing that in this moment her world was falling apart all around her like dominoes.

“A-and the room? I’m supposing you need it?” Her voice was wavering, constantly on the edge as she confirmed all the priorities.

“I’m so sorry,” The gesture was appreciated, but it did nothing to help in the moment as the now homeless girl’s mind raced.

“Thank you anyway, for the past few months.” It was a sudden bravery that brought her to her feet as she announced how she would pack her things right away.

In truth, she needed to be alone, just for a few minutes. So she could let it all go, cast a muffliato and sob away her worries for a small amount of precious time. Hannah didn’t dare follow her, knowing nothing could fix it for the younger girl, instead she brought the bottle of gin from the bar into the office and took long, thoughtful sips until it was no longer the only thing playing through her mind.

-

When the girl gathered her things and apparated down to the front door with them, Neville was there with a sad smile upon his face. Only giving her a brief goodbye, before swiftly leaving to busy himself with yet another maintenance job around the building. He never was one for complex emotions, so she didn’t think bad of him for escaping an awkward situation.

Y/n opened the front doors, seeing the pouring rain before her and almost bursting into yet another round of tears. Not that her red raw eyes could take it much longer. Maybe it was because she had been standing up for the good part of eight hours, or maybe just the pitiful sight of the gloomy street before her was enough to make her knees shake. As if they were going to buckle beneath her and send her crumpling to the ground.

But she shuffled forward, her trunk following behind her and she had quietly charmed it to do so. Admittedly she didn’t have a lot, when she had decided to try and live alone it had become a rushed affair to say the least. So she only owned a number of outfits within that case, along with some books and other little items she had deemed important enough to bring alone. That, and her guitar case, which loomed over her shoulder like a stalking figure in the night. The one thing she definitely didn’t have, was a coat to shelter her from the oncoming rain.

The girl walked a few steps, round the side of the building, and found a pile of crates to rest on beneath a small dripping canopy. It was dry, for now, and it gave her a chance to think properly. She needed to figure something out fast.

But y/n’s mind was full of white noise, watching puddles form between the cobbled pathway before her and thinking how she used to love the rain as a child. It had been relaxing and beautiful from the safety of her childhood bedroom, the window facing her parent’s courtyard as she watched them leave for work each morning.

Back then they would both turn and wave, with a generous smile on their faces, always reminding the young girl how they wished to see her when they returned. They were always happy when she was a child, the three of them a cacophony of laughs and giggles. Until it stopped. Her parents worked together, but never left the house together, and neither of them stopped to wave her goodbye, no matter how many times she waited for them to do so. They just stopped being happy, and as y/n shifted her weight upon the damp crates she realised that maybe her once beloved parents were never happy at all.

They became distant. To one another and to her, even more so as she grew older and became her own person. They tried to oppress it, probably seeing her joyful exterior and constant smiles and not recognising where it had come from. Not either of them. It angered them further, seeing her be such a resilient person, because they wished for her to feel the same neverending hurt they had caused one another. Regardless of the fact that it wasn’t her emotion to own.

Y/n remembered the night she was handed a file by her father, feeling stunned to have been called into his study while he was working. Often he would go inside and not appear for days at a time, so she knew whatever it was, it had to be important.

She read over the words he’d laid out for her, detailing their plans for her, what they wanted for her future. It was a plan of her life, given to her by two people who couldn’t be bigger strangers. But it wasn’t hers, it felt nothing like hers. She wanted to be someone, and she wanted to do it for herself, not because her parents feel it’s financially best.

The words, writer… and prophet echoed constantly around the page as she tried to make sense of it all. Her father barely looked up from his work as she struggled to remain calm, her lungs losing all motor function as she felt her stomach twist and turn. That was when she realised she had to leave, do something for herself.

Rain had been such a comforting thing for y/n, when she was a child. Now it covered her like a plague, and drenched her down to the bone as she did all she could to forget about that life. It had been her home, her playground, her school. It had been her whole life, without much chance to be free in the rest of the world.

Now it was nothing. She wanted it to be nothing. There had to be something she could do, there had to be somewhere she could go. Because that place was no longer an option.

“Y/n?” A voice made her head whip up, the tears on her cheeks easily disguised as the rain if it wasn’t for the way she snivelled to herself. She hadn’t even felt herself begin to cry, yet here she was, and it was a pitiful sight to see.

The light was bad in the alley, but when the two tall figures got nearer she recognised them instantly. Her heart broke a little more to see the worry in the twins’ eyes as they quickly took in the sight of her cramped body amongst her belongings.

“Are you leaving town then?” She thinks it was George, asked, he had been the one wearing a black shirt when she’d seen them earlier. The girl was in a daze, her head taking in their words a lot slower than it should have been as she begged herself not to cry in front of them.

To them, she looked like she was in a dream. Her eyes glazed over even as she glanced their way, making it look like she wasn’t really there with them. George’s question caught her off guard a bit, the girl looking as though she had forgotten where she was as she looked around her with bewilderment. Then the look of confusion fell to one of despair when it clicked once again, she was all alone.

“I suppose I am.” Even the two men could hear how her voice begged to break as she spoke with an airy tone. This was the first time they had seen her anything but bright and smiley.

It broke their hearts, in all honesty.

“Do you need somewhere to stay the night?” Fred, this time, asked. He knelt down to meet her eye level, their tall forms always towering above her at the best of times.

“We have a particularly comfy couch at our place,” George added, following suit with the kneeling.

“It’s got five star reviews,”

“And probably a few galleons hidden down the back if you’re lucky.”

Their smiles made her giggle, and it was all they could have asked for in the moment.

“That’s very kind of you,” Her sweet tone was back, like she’d taken control of her head again, “But I couldn’t ask that of you two.” It was her default to be polite, not wanting to be a burden to anyone. It was the one thing her nanny had taught her before being let go when she was twelve, not to ask anything of anyone but yourself.

“Nonsense,” Fred stood up, taking her guitar case that was leant up against the brick wall and swinging it over his shoulder.

“Really, I’ll figure something o-out - it’s fine!” She tried to protest, but the twins had already decided her fate. George lifted her trunk with ease, and Fred held out a hand for her, prompting the girl to clumsily lift herself off the jumble of crates with his assistance.

“Come on then,” They said, starting off towards the brighter part of diagon alley.

She didn’t move, Fred having let go of her as soon as she steddied herself again. They looked back at her, both frowning with the same face as she tried not to laugh at how they were so similar they even acted like one another.

“Well you better come with us-” “Or else it’ll look like we’ve robbed you!”

The girl just looked down at her feet, feeling as though they were only doing this because they couldn’t leave her out in the rain. Which was true. But the twins knew that she was someone worth helping out.

“Do you have anywhere else to go?” George asked, shifting the case into his other hand nonchalantly as they waited for her to come along with them. Silently she shook her head, embarrassed to meet their eyes as she admitted defeat.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Fred chimed in, still wearing their signature smile.

Y/n couldn’t help but return the sentiment, she didn’t have to be alone for at least one night. That was something to smile about, so she smiled. Her feet surged her body forward, a small skip noticeable as she reached the two patient men.

“We do look like we’ve just mugged you.” George laughed as they all walked through the alley and towards their shop, her little life packed away and in their hands. The girl slotted between them, having to catch up with their longer strides every now and then, as both twins chatted away as if nothing was amiss.

-

“Here’s the palace itself,” “Our pride and joy!” They announced, ushering her into the shop lined with all the products an excited teenage wizard could wish for. The shelves seemed to be full to the brim, some things piled up as a display. As haphazard and chaotic as it looked, y/n couldn’t deny that the bright colours shimmering off everything she could see instilled a happiness inside her that she rarely felt as a child. This would have been her dream when she was younger.

The twins’ shop was well known in the alley, by almost everyone who visited the leaky cauldron. Yet she had never dared step inside it herself. Most days she would have been busy with jobs around the inn, and on the off chance that she ventured around any other establishments, it was purely for essentials.

The two men watched as she scanned all that she could see from the doorway, her eyes wide and inviting with each new discovery. They would see kids come in every single day with the same reaction, yet with her it seemed new. It was if she had never seen a toy before.

“Have you eaten yet?” Fred asked, weaving through some unopened boxes to reach the stairs. Even on them there was an endless supply of treats to be found.

“I’m not hungry… thank you.” She followed behind him, slowly, with George closing up the front doors and setting up security wards.

“That wasn’t the question silly,” He laughed, catching up. “Have you eaten tonight?”

“No- but I’m really fine without.”

Once they reached the very top of the long set of stairs, past the ‘staff only’ sign, a door was kicked open in front of her. The apartment inside was a sight for sore eyes, and also the furthest thing from what y/n had envisioned on the walk there.

From how high they had gotten inside the shop, the girl presumed that the flat above had to be pokey and a lot smaller than what she was seeing. It was like a large loft, with brick walls and two levels and these huge windows that looked well over diagon alley. She could see all the lights of muggle London shining amongst the dark sheeted sky.

“My rooms up there, and George is through there.” Fred explained, nodding towards the opening to a small hallway and setting down her things in the excess of open space they had. It was comfortable.

“And here’s your bed!” The other twin exclaimed, throwing himself onto the huge sofa that stretched beneath one of the windows and came out into the room in an L shape. They weren’t lying when they said it was comfortable, because she could tell it was even by looking at it.  

“Right! I, for one, am starving.” Fred announced, walking through to the open kitchen, his footsteps echoing on the floor as he went. “What about you y/n?”

The girl was too busy staring out the window to hear him. She’d never seen the city this way before. Her old house was well out in the country, and the alley didn’t give much of a chance for enchanting views. It seemed as though this was the exception.

“Just make her something, she’s busy.” George chuckled, watching her from the sofa. The girl turned and looked at him confused, but the man just shook his head with a smile. “Nothing important,” He whispered and let her go back to the hypnotising view.

-

As they sat down to eat together, George asked y/n many questions about her life, determined to learn all he could about her in one evening.

“Let her swallow first will you!” Fred huffed, passing her a glass of water so she didn’t choke in the process.

“I was homeschooled all my life, well- up until I moved really.” The girl smiled politely, trying not to go into too much detail with her answers. The two men were so kind, though, that it was hard not to tell them everything she’d been holding in. “So you didn’t finish it all?”

“I left before I got the chance to,”

They nodded in understanding, but she could see the cogs turning in their heads as they both took another bite of their food, all in unison. She snickered a little, enjoying the way they effortlessly put on a show with their mannerisms.

“Did you run away!” They both cried out, startling her as she sat across from them.

“W-well… I um- yes I d-did really.” A wry laugh sounded as she spoke, an out of place sound amongst the shock that displayed over Fred and George’s faces.

“Woah, did something bad happen?”

“George! You can’t just ask that- you don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to y/n.” Fred rolled his eyes at his brother, but the girl felt a sense of relief that they asked, it felt nice to have the chance to tell someone after keeping it to herself all this time. It felt more out of place to not tell them.

“It’s okay,” She chuckled at them both, “My parents weren’t very happy people, and they both kind of kept their lives centered around work. I had no problem with it, either than the lack of freedom I had at home, but it changed when they basically showed me a plan for my life.”

The twins listened intently, nodding along with her words and silently reacting accordingly. They both frowned with the last bit, never hearing of someone having their lives planned out for them before.

“They planned your life? Isn’t that a bit, you know-”

“Controlling,” Fred finished, a look of pity on his face.

“We had different ideas, they wanted me to be a writer at the prophet when I’d shown no interest in journalism or even writing before.”

“That’s mad,” George said in a hushed tone, not wanting to cut her off.

“It was then that I realised the only way I was going to do what I wanted, was if I left. So I just packed my things and came here, hoping to find somewhere to stay with what little money I had. Hannah was nice enough to take me in free of charge, so long as I worked behind the bar for it.”

“Both her and Neville really are saints.” “It’s so much better than I could have asked for, but now they can’t afford it. It’s all understandable, it’s just a pain that I can’t ask my parents for help.”

All the while that she recalled her story, the girl smiled, reminding the men that she was a lot stronger than people might assume. Given what she’d been through, it was amazing that she hadn’t broken down already.

“We’ll figure something out for you, all of us.” Fred smiled, glad to see colour in her cheeks now that she was in the warmth of their loft compared to the drizzly alleyway.

“It’s not the end of the world if your parents don’t support you either, there’s plenty more people in the world who will.” George reassured her, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“Oh godric yeah,” Fred joined in, “Our folks went bloody mental when they heard this was what we wanted to start up instead of finishing at hogwarts.”

“Do they like it now?” She asked cautiously, feeling a little better knowing that they too skipped out on their academic life.

“They have to, given how well we’ve done.” “It is hard to deny our success,” They chimed like songbirds, the passion they had for their self made business shining through their wide eyes.

It was no surprise that the three of them got on, but as the night progressed quicker than they thought, the new trio found themselves with no awkward silences. The clock above them looked as though it had been enchanted when George finally glanced up at it, amazed to see that they’d been chatting for four hours already.

Only when y/n yawned did the two twins decide it was maybe time to call it quits.

“It’s getting late,” Fred spoke up, not wanting to keep the girl from her much needed sleep. It must have been a long day for her. “I’ll grab you some blankets.”

As he disappeared up into his room to look for something to keep her cosy all night, the girl helped George clear away their mess from dinner.

“I feel awful,” She smiled politely, handing him more plates to place into the sink that was doing all the work for them.

“What for?” The man seemed genuinely surprised.

“We spent all that time talking, but we never decided on what to do with me.” She scoffed, feeling like a child needing their help. “I promise I won’t hang around much longer, I’ll sort something out.”

“Like what?” He didn’t mean to sound harsh, it was more to show her that they were her only option right then.

“I-I’m not sure… sorry.” “Don’t be sorry, we want to help you.”

The door to Fred’s bedroom opened again and they fell into silence, the girl slipping back into the mindset that she was growing into a burden for them. She couldn’t ask anymore of them, they’ve already done enough for her. Then and there, y/n decided she would leave in the morning.

“Bed’s ready!” The shout came from the living room, where blankets had been laid over the sofa beneath the window. “Thought you would enjoy the view here.” Fred added when she came out to see his masterpiece.

“That’s hardly a bed!” George scoffed, laughing at the copious amount of cushions he’d left for her head, all different colours and sizes.

“It’ll be perfect, thank you.” She smiled, her eyes sparkling under the city lights that spilled into the room. It didn’t even matter that they would reflect against the ceiling as she slept, it looked like stars.

“As long as you like it then,” George muttered, eyeing his brother who clung onto a smug grin.

“Goodnight y/n, sleep well.”

“Night y/n.” They both smiled, turning to head off to their respective rooms as she opened up her case to look for something to sleep in.

“Night Fred, night George… thank you again, for all of this.” They both nodded at her words and disappeared, leaving her to change in the dark loft, only a small lamp beside her lighting her way to the sofa.

She clicked it off, casting lumos and stumbling over the fluffy rug to curl beneath the many layers of covers that Fred had left her. The girl chuckled to herself, peeling one off and folding it in a neat pile on the floor. Two would be just fine for one night.

It didn’t take long for her to drift off to sleep, the whole day’s nonsense catching up on her and slipping her body into a mini-coma. Her mind ran and slowed all at once, memories of nights she would spend in her childhood bed, reading books for hours on end until she’d fall asleep with the pages sprawled open beside her.

Many nights she would hear her parents scream at one another, that harrowing wailing sound would echo for hours until both of them grew tired and they decided to sleep apart yet again. That’s when she knew she could relax, she could finally do all the things that she wouldn’t have time for in the day between her tutor’s classes and meaningless chores.

She had been a night owl, revelling in the time she got to be truly alone, when the house slept she would come alive. Now, she couldn’t stay awake even if she wanted to. She needed to sleep, and fast.

Y/n vaguely heard a door opening and closing, unsure whether it was real or her mind replaying memories all too vividly. Either way, her eyes were far too heavy to open themselves and check. It could wait.

-

Fred cursed himself for not catching his bedroom door behind him, the noise booming across the loft. He waited, frozen at the top of the steps, watching to see if the girl would rouse at the sound. But he was in luck, she didn’t move a muscle.

He padded down to the bottom, making sure each step was lighter than the last as he headed into the small corridor. George jolted awake the second his door was opened, reaching for his lamp to see who was intruding on his sleep.

“What the fuck!” He almost shouted.

“Shut up! She’s sleeping in there!” Fred hissed, walking over to the empty side of the bed and sitting down calmly.

“So was I you git- what the hell are you doing, since when did we start sleeping together?”

“Disgusting-”

“I didn’t mean that,” George rubbed his eyes with a grimace and reluctantly sat up, “What do you want then?” His voice finally hushed to match his brother’s.

“I have an idea,” Fred started.

“Yes,” “Well, I’ve been thinking about y/n-” “If this is you coming to tell me about another sex dream, I don’t wanna know, okay?”

“Will you just shut up and listen to me,”

“Fine, fine, go on.” He pulled the covers over his bare chest, feeling suddenly exposed to the cold night’s air.

“Well, we’ve been saying for ages that we need someone to work in the shop, except we can’t really afford it right now.” Fred explained, and George nodded along. “Look, y/n needs somewhere to stay, but she would never stay here without giving us some sort of payment, right?” The man’s head looked like it was on a spring as he took in the words. “So, why don’t we let y/n stay here with us and in return she can help out in the shop?”

“Do you think she’d agree to that?” “It was basically the same agreement she had with Neville and Hannah, except we have no reason to get rid of her.”

“I suppose so,” He didn't sound overly convinced.

“She needs somewhere to stay, we need someone to work, it’s a win-win situation!” Fred exclaimed, smiling like a mad man to try and convince his brother that their plan could work out.

“Okay, fine. We can ask her in the morning.”

“Great, I knew you’d say yes.” “Well it’s not like she’s the worst person to live with, it hardly took much to sway me.”

“Not the worst person? Come on George, she’s great!” Fred, admittedly, got a bit too excited at this. His voice ringing out louder than he’d wanted it to.

“You have had a sex dream haven’t you?” “Oh shut up!” “Was she in it,” George teased, prompting his brother to get up and head for the door. “So i’m taking that as a yes.” He turned the light off, hearing one last hiss from Fred before the door shut behind him.

“Aren’t you forgetting the time you had a sex dream about Mcgonnogall?” Fred quipped, leaving quickly as not to get a beating up from the other twin, who was mentalling cursing himself for ever revealing that fact when they were drunk one time.

[liquid-luck-00]

Connections 9

Chapter 9

this is based on @thepeacetea daminette soulmate au

Masterlist *** First *** Previous *** Next

Warning ⚠️ Character death

~~~~~~~~~~

Mari always thought her soul bond was curious. She never heard or activated the bond on purpose. She doubted her soulmate did either, because of what Bruce had told her about the league of Assassins. But everything seemed just off. Apart from that one switch she never had contact again. The only thing she has to gleam of her soulmate are the abilities she learned through him. She settled into bed after biding her papa goodnight.

That might not be a bad thing. As soon as that thought crossed her mind was she pulled again, but this was different.

---

Time seemed frozen for Damian.

His mother came for him again. She brought an army and him, an older version a clone of himself. She brought his clone Heretic, who was pulling the sword from Damian's chest.

I lost, he thought as the sword fell from his hand.

Father, Batman, rushed towards him when two orbs of light circled above him, one red and one green.

The red light morphed into a girl with a high ponytail and a red mask covered her eyes, her eyes emanated a red light. She was dressed in a basic suit that resembled a cross of Nightwing and Red Robin's uniforms, just all red with black spots, gloves, and boots.

The green orb turned into a boy a short cloak covered his torso, the hood covered his head and face, two cat ears were part of the hood, his eyes were glowing green. A tail flicked around under the armor set around his waist.

The girl looked at him now in his father's arms.

"No!" she yelled everything fell silent to him as he watched about a dozen more orbs appeared each forming a figure in either red or green. All except the first two moved and quickly dispatched the clone, the army of assassins, and pushed mother back.

His vision faded to black.

He could no longer feel his father's arms under him.

---

Nightwing, Red Hood, and Red Robin were now around Batman and the fallen Robin. The past holders of the miraculous formed a ring around them, linking hands. They moved them all to the Bat-cave.

"Come back little one." Hippolyta, if she remembers what Tikki told her, cupped her face as she faded away.

"Tikki," she whispered out.

"What's wrong?" the little goddess rubbed her eyes.

"I... We... Cave... Now." She managed. She transformed and swung through Gotham unnoticed until she reached the cave under the manor.

The past holders and her cat were still there. She dropped her transformation and ran to her extended family.

"Pixie how?" Jason had taken off his helmet and hugged her.

"You were there weren't you." Tim stated, so she nodded confirming his theory.

“He is neither alive nor dead he is in a plane between the two." A cat, Hei Mao, dressed in a long sleeved black gi, armor plates on his right upper arm and a cat mask on top of his head, eyes like the other cat apparitions were glowing green a black domino mask covered his eyes.

"How is that possible?" Bruce coaxed himself to whisper, cowl down and holding back tears.

"He is your bonded. You are tethering and maintaining his soul whole." A ladybug in knightly armor, red glowing eyes like all the other ladybugs spoke, Joan of Arc.

"My bonded," Marinette breathed under her breath.

"The magic which flows through your veins flows through him. He is your..." the only male ladybug, a red feathered headdress and red cape, red warrior paint covered his eyes and stained his hands, Micazoyolin, added only to be interrupted by Dick.

"Soul mate." Dick gasped from next to her.

"It is possible to revive him." a woman in a loose black dress and a Jaguar patterned cape with green under the cape. A black Jaguar headdress with long green feathers sat on her head green warrior paint on her face and hands, Ocelome, drawled looking between Damian's lifeless body and the green soul of her cat. "By using the waters of the Lazarus."

A gasp was heard from the bats and birds in the cave, Mari flinched further into her big brother Jay. Mari began to sag from exhaustion and the visages of the past holders began to flicker.

"Perhaps this conversation is best held elsewhere," Hippolyta broke the silence. "I, Queen Hippolyta of the Amazons, invite all of you to Themiscyra. Until we meet in the flesh my child."

Two by two each pair of ladybugs and their cats disappeared, all but the solitary cat, her cat, remained. Everything was still and silent within the cave. No one knowing how to proceed, so they stayed as they were.

None of them could tell you how long they stayed like that, but a new voice started.

"Bruce care to explain why my mother told me to bring all of you to Themiscyra." Wonder Woman appeared on the Bat-computer. "By Zeus. The apparition of the cat. Do you know what this means?" Bruce’s back was to the computer, Damian’s body still in his arms protected by his cape from Wonder Woman’s sight.

"Yes we do. Come by around noon everything should be sorted by then." Bruce brought himself to say, Tim ending the call after a nod from Wonder Woman.

"Come on pixie let's get you home before the sun rises." Jason put on his helmet. She nodded, transformed , and let Jason pick her up as they left the cave.

Jay-Jay stopped a few blocks away, she moved and clung on his back like a baby koala. As Red Hood swung and ran across the roof tops. He tucked in his little sister and left.

---

One moment he was dying in his father's arms. No he did die in his father's arms. But what was odd was the tug after a moment in the darkness.

The next he was standing in the Bat-cave next to his father and his body. The first girl in red was gone, but the others were here still. About 10 minutes later a red figure of a girl swings into the cave. If he could move or speak he would have. Or maybe not. The figure was engulfed in pink light and there stood Marinette Stone. She ran into a hug from Todd.

"Pixie how?"

"You were there weren't you." Drake stated, Marinette must have understood the statement as she nodded her head. It was silent until one of the green and black figures spoke.

"He is neither alive nor dead he is in a plane between the two." Hei Mao, the other voice in his mind supplied.

How am I not dead?!

He could still not move or speak so he stood and listened.

"How is that possible?" he heard his Father.

"He is your bonded. You are tethering and maintaining his soul whole." Joan of Arc, the voice again supplied.

"My bonded," Marinette, the voice supplied but now he placed it, the voice is Marinette.

"The magic which flows through your veins flows through him. He is your..." the only man in red, Micazoyolin, Marinette corrected his thought.

"Soul mate." Grayson shrieked.

"It is possible to revive him." Ocelome, she supplied and he took the intonation, without our analyzing now. "By using the waters of the Lazarus."

He heard his family suck in a breath and seem to become stone still, Marinette flinched further into Todd who was hugging and seemingly guarding her.

"Perhaps this conversation is best held elsewhere," Hippolyta broke the silence. "I, Queen Hippolyta of the Amazons, invite all of you to Themiscyra. Until we meet in the flesh my child."

Two by two each pair of ladybugs and their cats disappeared, all abut him. He still could not move, he could not speak either, but his mind raced.

I am dead.

Actually I am apparently not alive or dead.

My best friend is my soulmate.

My soulmate does not hate me.

She knows. She knows me. She knows my aggravating family.

She is stuck with us, with me.

Marinette is my best friend who happens to be my soulmate.

His thoughts would have continued had it not been for the voice coming from the Bat-computer.

"Bruce care to explain why my mother told me to bring all of you to Themyscira." Wonder Woman, "By Zeus. The apparition of the cat. Do you know what this means?"

"Yes we do. Come by around noon everything should be sorted by then."Father spoke his back to the screen shielding his body from vein.

"Come on pixie let's get you home before the sun rises." Todd finally spoke taking Marinette home.

Father finally stood, for a moment he looked at him and then his body before moving to place his body in a portable cyro-chamber in the Bat-plane.

Then the darkness returned.

---

The next morning she woke up with a resolve that everything would turn out fine.

Okay sure I just found out my best friend is my soulmate. the was killed by his clone, but he is in a state of limbo. Okay this was a lot but this is not the end of the story.

So as she, her papa, and Penny were having breakfast a knock sounded at the door.

"I'll get it." Penny excused herself. "Tim what a surprise come in." Tim was promptly sat at the table a mug of coffee and pancakes were placed in front of him.

"What brings you here so early mate?" Papa chuckled after watching Tim chug the coffee.

"Well, we were planning on a family trip for the week but..." he started. "B locked himself in his office and Damian won't budge, so" he looked at Jagged. "We were hoping that we could steal little bean for the week since both of them can't say no to her." he rushed barely stopping to breathe.

"Whatcha say little rock star," Papa turned to her smiling, "want to spend the week with your brothers?"

"Yes." She jumped up and hugged her dad and ran to her room to pack. Tim-Tam joined her a minute later as he asked Diana about the climate of the island.

"Why can't we go too, Lucky Penny?" Mari heard her papa ask.

'Sigh' "You've got a full schedule, why don't we plan something for the following week, your clear then." they heard Penny compromise.

"Rock 'n hear that little star," Papa poked his head in as they finished packing. "Maybe we'll steal one of Bruce's birds next week for our trip." He semi whispered the end.

Tim seemed surprised at the comment but schooled his features quickly, he picked up the suitcase and Mari pulled her papa out of the penthouse suite, gave him a hug as she went with Tim.

Less than an hour later she was sitting in the Bat-cave having loaded the bags in the Bat-plane, with the three eldest Wayne children and Bruce, waiting for Wonder Woman.

"Hey Mari can I ask something?" Tim sat down next to her.

"What is it Tim Tam?"

"What did Jagged mean when he said one of Bruce's birds?" Everyone was now watching the two and listening to the response that was to follow.

"Oh, um papa might have figured out that Uncle Bruce is Batman." She was now fiddling with her fingers in her lap. When no one answered she continued. "Remember a couple of months ago when the Sirens crashed Papa's concert. Well when Uncle Bruce and Jay Jay moved me and Papa away and into his dressing room, B didn't make his voice gruff and gravelly as Batman's usual voice. So papa thought maybe his voice isn't usually as gruff and the new voice is actually his real voice, and once papa hears a voice, he never forgets it. I promise I never told him and I never told him he was right but he is pretty sure and I don’t think he’ll even believe you if you tell him he’s wrong." Mari scrambled to say, ending it with a small sad smile looking up through her lashes at everyone.

"Father like Daughter," Bruce was the first to speak. "Everyone is getting a permanent voice modifier installed in their suits." This resulted in every one laughing. Effectively breaking the tension previously in the room.

"Smart idea B." Jason answered making Mari smile wider.

That was when Wonder Woman decided to arrive. Ending the conversation as they boarded the Bat-plane leaving for Themyscira.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

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Just Another Class Trip :)  Part 3

You know getting dragged through a multi billion dollar corporations building to try and avoid your illegitimate father, a normal monday for most I’m sure.

First< Previous >Next

------------

It’s official, I hate Adrien

Marinette groans, having been practically dragged out of bed for breakfast. Adrien was wisely backed up as far as he could in the elevator. She yawns, making it loud as possible and looking Adrien right in the eye.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have stayed out so late,” Tikki giggles, hidden in her scarf.

Yeah it turns out that ‘just need to help out one person’ turned into a it is now 3am and I am halfway across the city beating up a gang.

“At least the box was safe,” Marinette whispers back, she had crashed in Adrien's room, no matter how mad Lila would be, or because of it who knows.

And indeed Lila was mad. The second they step foot into the hotel restaurant the entire class turns to stare at them. Crowded around a smug looking Lila with tears rolling down her cheeks. Marinette just turns a sharp left to the coffee. It isn’t until she has downed half a cup and refilled it that she tries to look for her friends.

Chloe looks just as dead as her, so she sits next to her. Let the morning people talk, they were ready to pass out together.

“Kagami?”

“Yep, Adrien?”

“Yep,”

“Morning people,” They both sneer.

“Were you planning on sleeping all morning?” Kagami asks, eating breakfast like a normal person, what a jerk.

“Were you planning on watching me all morning?” Chloe half heartedly retorts.

“You are adorable when you’re sleeping,”

“Fuck you, I’m adorable all the time,”

“Chlo, language, please,” Marinette implores, nursing her giant cup.

“Shut up Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe snaps, face planting back into the table.

“She’s not that cute actually,” Kagami whispers to Adrien, “Wore a face mask she got green all over the bed,”

“I’ll get green all over you,” Chloe mumbles absentmindedly.

"Marinette,"

"Ah the storm is coming,took them long enough" She takes a gulp of burning coffee, "Yes Alya?"

"You cant just say that to a person," Alya tries to explain, as if talking down to a child, "Lila was up all night crying,"

"She probably just put on a recording and went soundly to sleep," Chloe scoffs, sleepily looking up from the table.

"I was with her all night!" Alya turns to Chloe, seething rage coming to the surface.

"Thats some impressive endurance," Marinette mutters, downing more coffee.

"You think she's been practicing?" Chloe smirks.

"This isn't-"

"Make sure she get's plenty of water," Marinette turns away, hoping the conversation would be over.

"Marinette!" Alya looks down at her the way Marinette often looks at her, the look at a dear friend who changed, "Can't you see you're hurting Lila?"

"Can't you see she's hurting me?" She covers that honestly by gulping down more coffee, she has not had enough for this conversation.

"You used to be so nice Marinette," Alya dodges the question, pointing to Chloe and Kagami instead, "Then you started spending time with these two, and, and you changed!"

"Believe what you want Alya," Marinette motions for her friends to stay calm, "But they stand by me when no one else will, especially you,"

"Thats because!- Marinette if you had just gotten to know Lila instead of being jealous this would have never happened," Alya looks down at her sadly, Marinette was sure Paris would have been up in flames somehow if she had ever trusted Lila, "If you just didn't spend time around these bullies everything could be the same, you wouldn't have become a bully too,"

"So what?" She spits bitterly, looking over at the table watching them, Lila looking disgruntled it wasn't an all out fight, "If I got up and joined that table right now, would everything go back to the way it was?"

"... No,"

Marinette’s pocket buzzes in a familiar sequence. Akuma alert.

"Ok then, not much point in arguing about it, I'm going to stay with my friends, the ones I can actually trust," Marinette quickly shuts down Alya's protest, "Now go get Lila some water,"

Alya walks off back to the table, everyone crowding around her. Marinette waits for the door to be clear, she has to leave before Alya finishes or the whole class will be breathing down her neck.

“Forgot something in my room,” Marinette slings on her back pack, “Be back soon,”

She was not back soon, she was not back soon at all. Luckily she should only be three minutes late for the bus-and nope they left, great. She’ll just have to catch up with the tour later.

Well, I had stuff to do anyways

She talks with the receptionist; her assistant should have sent her a prepared motorcycle to the hotel the day before. It’s a quick drive to the location she had selected specifically to be close to the hotel.

She puts on a simple domino mask before entering the building, she didn’t want anyone to leak her identity after all. Walking in she’s glad to see everything is not in disarray.

“MDC,” Her assistant, Liam walks up to her.

Liam was someone she met through Penny. He’s older than her and also acted as her guardian on most of her trips as MDC. He does know her civilian identity, which she trusted him completely to keep. She likes him because-

“Is that mine?” She snatches the cup of coffee as he passes it to her.

“Figured you needed it,” Liam smiles, wincing as she downs the burning liquid, it's fine she has a strong healing factor, “You said your bag was stolen? This should replace it, it’s most of what you had plus more,”

He rolls forward a pre packed suitcase.

“I would die without,” Marinette says in all seriousness, “So what's the damage?”

“No major problems so far, the security we hired is enough to scare away the smaller thugs,” Liam nods to some security personnel guarding each door, “They won't be enough if any super villains try to attack the actual show,”

“Mm, give them instructions on the night of the show they are only allowed to intercept small time, anything bigger they are not allowed to engage,” Marinette studies the room, there's great places to hide, friend or foe, “If they see anything they are simply to report it directly to me,”

“They can’t engage?” Liam looks around, trying to see what she is.

“They won't be able to stop them anyway, and there is no reason for them to die,”

“If you say so,” Liam leads her through the room where lights are being set up and walls are being painted, “So what's the plan if we do get attacked?”

“I’m sure Batman is going to have his eye on any big events,” Marinette approves of the color of the back wall, it looking even better in person, “Besides I’m planning on trying to intercept before any violence,”

“In other words you're going to make my job a lot more stressful,” Liam sighs, making a note or rather on his tablet.

“Not if I can help it,”

“You can’t,” Liam sighs again at her grin, “Didn’t you have a tour with your class today?”

“They left me,” Liam seems equally unsurprised, “But I should probably head for Wayne tower anyway,”

“Don’t get into trouble,”

“I never get into trouble,” Marinette smirks from the door, “Trouble drags me into it kicking and screaming,”

“More like keen and skipping,” Liam closes the door in her face.

Marinette strolls into the Wayne tower an hour late with Starbucks, she sees is her class, being a nuisance arguing with a tour guide.

“You cannot just leave a student alone in Gotham,” The tour guide all but yells at Madame Bustier.

“Marinette is very responsible, she can handle herself,” Madame Bustier more defends herself than Marinette.

“I don’t care how responsible your student is, that won't stop them from getting shot!” This time he does yell, “You need to go back and pray to god she’s alright and hasn't gotten lost for some murder to find!”

Alright time to break the tension

“Hey, what did I miss?” Marinette asks casually, Already sipping at her straw when all eyes turn to her.

“Marinette! How did you get here?” Madame bustier demands.

“I-”

“I think you mean ‘are you alright, I’m so sorry for leaving you behind,” The tour guide glowers, apparently threatening enough that Madame Bustier actually repeats him.

“I’m fine, I borrowed a bike from my friend in Gotham,”

“You don’t have a licence in Gotham,” Lila sneers triumphantly.

Oh look who actually did some research, how much digging did you do when I learnt how to ride a motorcycle

“I didn’t say it was a motorcycle,” That shut’s Lila up, “But yeah it is a motorcycle,

Worth it for that face

“Also I got my licence approved in America before I came,”

So worth that face

Lila opens her mouth, better than the flood gates, when the tour guide interrupts.

“Now that everyone is here,” He sends a smile to Marinette and a glare to Madame Bustier somehow at the same time, she gets the tinglily feeling of  miraculous holder, or maybe its just the caffeine, “We can start, my name is Dick I will be your tour guide today.

They follow Dick through the tour Marinette's group right behind Dick. She scribbled designs and took notes as he talked, asking her own questions. This got her dubbed Dicks favourite, and easy title to gain as the rest of the class lagged behind. Most were listening to Lila, only Max and Alix were straining to hear Dick over the chatter. Marinette would occasionally pick up a mention of the Wayne's and knew it wasn't related to the tour. She'd have to guess Lila was lying about either dating someone or saving their life, or because it's Lila probably both. A gutsy move in the Wayne tower she had to admit. Marinette could tell Dick was listening and would probably have that rumour make it back to the Wayne's themselves. Would the wrath of some of the richest and most powerful people be enough to stop her? not likely.

They split up for lunch at the cafeteria in the building. She saw the coffee machine and was about to make a bee line to it when Kagami pulled her back to eat some 'real food' whatever that is. She makes a break for it after eating the so called 'real food', right before the tour was about to restart. She reaches it as a familiar figure is also waiting.

"Hi Tim," She greets, getting him to actually jump, "You work here?"

"Hi! um-yeah," He looks over to her, "How did you do that?"

"Do what?" She takes the biggest travel cup they have available.

"Sn-nothing," Tim still looks uneasy, then his eyes lock onto the cup, "tired?"

"Was up till three am last night, plus jet lag?" She yawns, "Yeah I'm tired,"

"Then you'll want to put that cup back,"

"Hm why?"

he gets her answer when Tim ducks down, opening a hidden cupboard full of travel cups at least twice the size of her current one,

"Tim I love you," She fills up the giant cup, "You're my favourite person in Gotham as of right now,"

"Not Dick?"

"Eh, his puns are lacklustre," She shrugs, Tim spits out his drink, "You know Dick?"

"Yep, give him a hard time for me!" Tim calls over his shoulder, walking away.

"You got it!" She hurries in the opposite direction, late for the tour once again.

“Did you get another coffee?” Dick asks as they enter the PR department.

“They were serving them at lunch,” Marinette could almost laugh at how quickly he had begun to fret over her during the tour.

“I know, that was my brothers idea, or rather demand,” Dick sighs, someone else approaching the group to direct the tour.

“Your brother works here?”

“Sure does,”

“But you don’t”

This makes Dick pause, looking down at her as she sips at the coffee.

“What?”

“I mean you don’t work this job at least,” She shrugs, it wasn't hard to figure out.

“Why's that?”

“You seem uncomfortable, your charismatic but still lack the smoothness of a rehearsed tour, plus you seem offended that they are in the back chatting,” Marinette nods towards Lila and her posse, “Regular tour guides would be used to that,”

“You found me out,” Dick chuckles, “I’m just taking over for today,”

“Well I think you picked a bad class to do that for,” She looks over at most her class ignoring the speaker trying to get their attention.

“I think I picked the right one,” Dick says cryptically, then walks off to help herd the class.

“Alright you have to give me the recipe,” Marinette overhears from a nearby desk.

Someone is sitting on it eating a cookie, while the other taps away at her computer.

“Sorry no can do,” She shrugs, “I don’t know it,”

“How can you not know it, you baked them right?” He asks, trying to steal another one and getting his hand slapped away.

“Nope, new vigilante came in, beat up someone robbing my house and baked me cookies,”

“This is Gotham so I believe the first two,” He looks between her and the container, “But cookies?”

“They also gave me free therapy,” She shrugs, before tapping on the container,“And do you really believe I could make these?”

“Touche,” He smirks leaning back on the desk, “So who’s the new guy? With the Batclan?”

“No they said they were just passing through,” She doesn't look up from her computer, focusing intently on the screen, “Names Starling,”

“Never heard of them,”

“Neither, and I tried looking them up,” She sighs, pushing back from the computer in defeat, “Found someone, but it’s not them, actually couldn't find anything on them,”

“Weird,” He gets up from the desk, “Can’t imagine Batman is going to take kindly to a new vigilante running around,”

“Unless he adopts them,”

“That… yeah he probably will,”

"Oh no-CLAIRE" The speaker trying to wrangle her class stops, "We have a problem!"

"Sorry to cut this short," Claire doesn't look sorry at all, "Seems we have important matters to tend to,"

She follows Dick out of the department, ushering her class as she goes. Claire looks over at her like she has two heads, a mixture of impressed and pity, and perhaps a bit of jealously.

They get to go further up the building, to the higher floors. They reach a space that is mostly meeting rooms. He class decide to take advantage of Dick declaring they are completely sound proof, or maybe they took it as a challenge. Marinette is walking past a hall when someone leaning against the wall catches her eye.

“Auntie Selina?!”

They look around, only spotting Marinette seconds before they collide into a hug, she feels the tingling buzz of a true holder.

“Mari!” Selina picks her up and spins her around, no different from when she was five, “Oh, my love it’s so good to see you, when did you arrive in Gotham?”

Marinette watches as her smile morphs into horror.

“Wait, what are you doing in Gotham!?”

“It’s a class trip and- hey where are we going?” Her Auntie grabs her arm pulling her down the hall.

“Marinette!” Dick calls, walking around the corner, Selina makes a sharp turn down another corridor, “Wait!”

Selina is two steps away from running as she pulls Marinette through the maze of hallways.

“Auntie where are we going?”

“Down here,” She opens the door leading to a staircase, too narrow to be a fire exit.

“That’s not really what I was asking,”

Selina inputs a key code, the door swinging open as she is pulled into the room.

“Wait!” She gets pulled through another door just as quick “Was that wall full of weapons?”

“Just a picture sweetie,” She says sweetly, “Down these stairs,”

“Aunt Selina what are we running from?” They are running now, floor after floor.

“We’re not running from anything sweetie,” Selina speeds up, “I just wanted to show you a cool spot in Gotham,”

“Right,” Marinette raises an eyebrow, “I was actually with the class so maybe we could go later?”

“It closes in five minutes,”

“Like you wouldn’t just break in if we were going somewhere,”

“I promise I will take you somewhere nice,” She smiles back at Marinette, they reach the end of the stairs, coming to a garage of sorts, “If you promise to hurry up,”

“Sure-” She does a double take, of the room, “Hold up are those costumes?”

“Collectors stuff, you know,” They are surrounded by bat themed... everything, “Rich people,”

“Right and how do you know this?”

“I-” She hesitates, eyes drifting, “Hey look, the exit!”

They all out sprint towards the exit. Selina reaches out to open the door a second after it swings open.

“Selina,” The man smiles at Selina as she runs into him.

“Hey Bruce,” Selina jumps back, trying to hide Marinette behind her.

“Where are you going?” Bruce looks behind her at Marinette, who gives a little wave.

“Out! Got to hurry!” She grabs Marinette's arm again, trying to pull her around Bruce.

“Is something wrong?” Bruce grabs Selina's shoulders to keep her still and looking at him.

“Nope nothings wrong,” She wriggles out of his grasp, trying again to pull Marinette away.

“Ok then,” Bruce still looks worried but turns to Marinette instead, “Hello I’m Bruce Wayne, Selina finance,”

“YOU’RE HER WHAT!?”

“Snitch,” He Auntie spits out venomously.

“Why didn’t you tell me!?” Marinette asks her with the biggest grin.

“Surprise,” Selina gives half heated jazz hands.

“Wait! Whens the wedding? Do You have a dress? I’ll make one!” She deicides, brining out her sketchbook, drawing different designs, “What's the theme? Never mind tell me on the way to the fabric store, I’ll sketch up some designs,”

“Darling, please-” Selina is now getting pulled along.

“Oh! I’ll call Papa! I’m sure he’ll want to make your cake! We have to hurry, come on lets go!” They're already out the door, Marinette waves turning back to Bruce, “Nice meeting you!”

“What just happened?” Bruce asks Dick as he runs up next to him.

“She kidnapped one of the students on tour,”

“Who is now making her wedding dress,” Bruce nods, not understanding anything

“Did I miss something?”

I think we all did

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[scuttling]

Signals

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Latina OFC Word Count: 2,063 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Overstimulation, Multiple orgasms, Oral sex, Vaginal fingering, Unprotected sex, Rough sex, Daddy kink, Dom/sub, Praise kink, Biting, Hickies, Choking, Sex toys, Subspace, Aftercare Summary: Buying a present for Aaron starts a new (very smutty) tradition. Note: This is a reformatted, previously published work. Link to A03 or read below! It all starts with a trip to the mall with Prentiss and Garcia.

Prentiss is looking for a new set of luggage, Garcia is looking for a few new dresses, and Sophie’s just along for the ride, but when she spots the tie, she immediately knows she wants to buy it for Aaron.

It’s a deep, dark navy blue, silk, with a paisley print—Armani, so something he would never buy for himself—and she just knows how good it would look on him with a black suit, crisp white shirt, silver watch. Her mouth practically waters, and Prentiss shoots her a knowing smile when she glances over her shoulder and sees her holding it.

“Present for your special someone?” she asks, and Sophie glances back, smiles softly.

“Yep. He’ll probably just tell me I shouldn’t have wasted the money on him, but I was really drawn to it. I’m gonna get it.”

When she gives it to him after dinner that night, his face is serious, his eyes almost amber colored in the yellow light of the kitchen, and he pulls her onto his lap, kisses her warm and deep. His hands slide up her body, holding her at the waist, and she sighs, lets herself be kissed and held up by his hands for so long that she’s foggy with pleasure when he pulls back.

“I take it you like the tie?” she murmurs, and he sets her carefully on her feet, pushes his dinner dishes aside, and lays her back on the table; it leaves her breathless, and she just looks up at him, panting, sitting up on her elbows, while he takes off her jeans and panties.

He pulls her close to the edge of the table, one of his feet on the ground and his other knee up on his chair, and he makes a fucking meal out of her, brings her off twice with his tongue; her second orgasm hits her so hard that her eyes water, and he makes sure she’s alright before pushing two fingers inside her and fucking her to a third, praising her for being sweet and thoughtful as he presses deep.

“I like the tie,” he says when she is throbbing around his fingers afterward, her face flushed and wet, and all she can do is babble in response; he kisses her cheeks softly, takes her in his arms, cuddles her close, and carries her to bed. The first time he wears it, she catches a glimpse of him putting it on in the mirror, and heat floods her body. She freezes where she stands, breathing hard, and he turns, curious; his eyes sweep over her, taking in the signs of her obvious arousal, and he looks down at the tie, back up at her face.

“Oh. You remember the night you gave me this, don’t you, sweet girl? You were so thoughtful, buying a present for your daddy,” he says, taking a step toward her. She swallows hard, licks her lips, and nods. “I rewarded your kindness the best way I know how.”

“Yes, daddy. You made me feel... very good.” She can almost feel his hands on her, his tongue, and she shivers.

“Yes, I did. It was my pleasure, and I’m happy to do it again tonight, if you like.”

“The same thing, or something different?” she asks softly, and he puts his hands on her hips, presses his lips to hers.

“Anything you like, baby. You can think about it, let me know later?” She looks up at his face, so soft and loving, knows instantly what she’d like—but she’ll let him wait it out for a little while. There’s no reason she should be the only one desperately day dreaming of tonight.

“Yeah, I’ll let you know,” she answers, breathless again, and he smooths one palm over her ass, squeezes softly, and lets her finish getting ready.

She contemplates putting on fresh panties again, but decides that there’s really no point.

“Does that feel good, baby? Is this what you wanted?” Aaron purrs in her ear as he fucks her from behind, her hands squeezing the couch cushion while he pounds into her pussy. She’s got a throw pillow under her hips to tilt them up for him, and he’s so deep, so delicious.

“Yes, oh, god, yes,” she pants, and she moves one hand to cover his where he’s supporting himself on the edge of the sofa. “You feel so good.” Her tits are smashed against the seat of the couch, her ass jiggling each time he slams against it, her clit rubbing roughly on the throw pillow, and it’s everything she imagined and more.

“Perfect, gorgeous girl. So good for me.” One of his hands moves to her hair, and he pulls it all to one side, over her shoulder, so he can see her face better, probably. “You love to be fucked hard by daddy. You love the feel of me against your ass.”

“Yes, I love it. I love you.” She spreads her legs a little, one of her feet pressing against the rug for leverage, and he gets rougher, thrusts quicker. She whines, drops her cheek to the cushion, and just lets herself be fucked, her body moving only because of his deep, relentless thrusts.

“I love you, Sophie. You’re so perfect, wanting me to use you like this. When you ask for my cock, it’s almost impossible to deny you—but you know that, honey, don’t you? You know all I want is to make your tight little pussy quiver around me.” She moans into the couch, nods weakly, and when he leans in again to bite her shoulder, she comes. “Yes, that’s it. We’re not done yet, though.”

“Aaron,” she whimpers, her clit sensitive, and he mouths at the bite, kisses her arm.

“You’re fine, baby. You’re okay.” The hand not covered by hers moves to her ass, and he squeezes as he pumps inside. “You’re okay. You can take me, can’t you, good girl?”

“Hmm, yes,” she mutters, and she’s overstimulated, but she wants to be good for him, doesn’t want him to stop.

She gets too tired to do anything with her hands, just brings them up to rest by her face, and he moves his to her hips, holds her tight, and hammers her soft, pliant body until he comes; she feels him fill her, feels some slide out when he withdraws, and she exhales deeply, spent.

“No, no,” he says when she sags against the couch. “I want one more orgasm from you, baby girl.” He lifts her hips, tucks the pillow more firmly beneath her pussy, and it’s wetter now, from both of their come. “Hump this for me, okay?”

She’s tired, and satisfied, fuzzy, but she works her hips as best as she can. Aaron’s broad palms come to rest on her ass, and he spreads her open a little, watches her grind against the pillow. It makes her cheeks heat, being inspected so closely by her daddy, and she comes, neck outstretched, moans weak and broken.

He kisses her lips, her shoulder, and rubs his hand soothingly up and down her back; they get cleaned up in the shower, and he feeds her a snack in the kitchen—cheese and pickles, her favorite. Then, he wraps her in a blanket and tucks her into the armchair while he strips the couch cushions of their covers, throws them in the washer; she watches him with a sleepy, happy smile. The tie becomes an unofficial signal: when Aaron wears it to work, Sophie knows she is going to be taken apart thoroughly when they get home, will end the night with her body aching and her brain empty, and Aaron knows she knows.

This time, he left home wearing a red tie, she’s absolutely certain of that, but when they gather for their morning meeting, he’s wearing the blue one; she literally stops mid-stride when she sees it, and Prentiss crashes right into her back, almost causing a domino effect in the doorway. “Are you okay?” she asks, clearly concerned, but Sophie just swallows hard and nods, takes her seat without a word. Aaron turns to hide a smirk, the evil, rotten, bastard.

The evening begins agonizingly slow, with Aaron stripping her of her shirt and pants, laying her back on the bed, panties pushed aside, and fingering her with only one finger for a good twenty minutes. He has her whimpering, shaking, because it feels so good but it’s not enough, and it’s only when he leans in to slide his tongue through the wetness pooling around his finger that she comes, squeezing her legs together; he forces them open with his free hand, making her mumble and shiver.

“Beautiful, sweetheart. You’re so gorgeous when you get like this: needy and desperate for daddy.” She wants to reply, can’t, just nods her head.

When she’s calmed down a little, he pulls her panties off, but her bra stays on. She doesn’t understand why, at first, until strong hands push up her thighs, and he inserts himself inside her, wraps his fingers around the fabric between the cups of her bra. It pulls down, exposing her chest, for the most part, and he uses that to hold her steady while he fucks her into oblivion.

Her tits bounce with each thrust, and her hands do absolutely nothing, because she’s forgotten how to use them; all she can do is whimper, murmur daddy, and clench around his dick, so that’s what she does.

“Oh, fuck, baby. Are you fuzzy already? Was one little finger enough to make you brainless?” She nods, pants, and he squeezes his eyes shut, something he does when he’s trying not to come. “You’re my perfect girl, Sophie. You’re the best girl. I love you so much.” She whines high in her chest, licks her bottom lip a couple of times, and he reaches his other hand up to wrap around her throat.

“Mmm, daddy,” she sighs, and when he spills inside her she hums, pleased, and manages to bring her hand up to hold his wrist at her throat. He keeps it there for a moment, then lets go, takes off her bra and comes up to kiss the angry, red marks it left behind.

He slips two fingers inside her, and she’s so messy, she can feel it, groans when the thrust of his hand makes her feel squishy inside. “It’s only me, baby, it’s daddy’s come. I’ll push it deeper inside and make you shiver for me, sweet girl.” His hand moves quickly, his mouth still gentle on her breasts, and when he carefully bites down on her nipple, she does climax, trembling and breathing hard until he guides his fingers out.

He holds her, soothes her, and when she’s able to speak, it’s a flood of words like thank you and love you and so good to me and wow. “You’ve worn that tie twice this week,” Spencer mentions to Aaron in the briefing room one day. He looks down, slides his hand over it, and glances back up at him.

“I like it. Sophie bought it for me,” he explains, and Spencer nods, smiles at her.

“It’s nice. Pretty color.”

“Thanks.” She flushes and looks back down at the interoffice memo they’re supposed to be reading; she still has hickies and bite marks on her ass and thighs from the last time he wore the tie, on Monday, and her mind has been racing, thinking of what kind of reward it will earn her today.

“So, so pretty, baby,” he coos as she gasps through her fourth orgasm of the night. There is a vibrator in her pussy, a smaller one in her ass, and she droops against him where he holds her up, his back against the headboard of their bed. “You sound so pretty when you come for me, my good girl.”

He makes love to her after that, pumping slowly, gently, into her worn out body, and she musters up enough energy to kiss him, sigh Aaron, and clutch at his hair until he comes.

She calls off sick the next day, literally too well-fucked to be of any use to her team. When Aaron gets home from work, all she’s wearing is the tie.

[yummyyume]

Of Love and Sunlight - Part 02

Here it is! To be perfectly honest with all of you, this part has been written first. There will be a part 03, somewhen in the future. I just need to write it. And there are some tentatives plot bunnies for a part 04. So we’ll see how it works out.

You can visit my AO3 if you want. I’ll post Of Love and Sunlight there soon. 

Part 01

Hope you all like it!

Tittles are adapted from Sunlight by Hozier, because I love this song and I didn’t have any idea how to name this series.

I apologize for any spelling or grammar errors, English is not my first language. I hope it’s still intelligible.

Taglist:

@alysrose-starchild @vixen-uchiha @dont-panic-to-much @ramos123 @stackofrandomstuff @thecaptainthunder @redbullgivescaswings @megaafangirl @thebooki3h @zorua-adorable  @user00000003 @eliza-bich @transcendent-heroes @a4-machete @nyx-in-line @stainedglassm @maskedpainter @schrodingers25 @iamabrownfox @corporeal-terrestrial

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Hold me, carry me slowly

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Marinette opens her front door tiredly. It’s far too early for anyone to be bothering her yet. She’s only awake because the twins are going to start fussing soon, and despite her short night, she prefers waking up with her alarm than with her babies’ cries. It tends to make her panic if they’re the ones waking her up, because her mind immediately wonders what’s wrong instead of remembering that it’s feeding time.

She’s not expecting to see Jon and Damian on her front step. She hurriedly steps out and closes the door behind her to bare them entry, leaving only a sliver open so she’ll hear her babies if anything happened.

“What are you doing here?” She hisses, glaring.

“We wanted to talk to you, Marinette,” Damian replies, words mild, expression politely blank, while Jon looks both hopeful and sheepish.

Marinette’s blood boils.

“I have nothing to say to either of you!” She snaps back. “You made it perfectly clear that you want nothing to do with me! Well, I don’t want anything to do with you!”

It’s only because she knows him so well that she sees Jon’s flinch at her words, but despite that he takes a step forward, careful not to touch her. Marinette takes a step back and curses the fact that the door is in the way.

“Marinette, we’re sorry. We’re really, really sorry for everything and we would like to talk. Please.”

And Marinette has always been weak to Jon’s earnest tone and puppy dog eyes. She wants to let them in and listens to what sort of flimsy excuses they came up with, because she missed them. She missed them so much, but they broke her heart and she’s not ready to let them break her babies’ hearts too.

Just as she’s about to open her mouth and tell them to get lost, there’s a sharp wail coming from the bedroom and at their suddenly alert expressions, she knows they heard it too. She closes her eyes just as a second wail starts and she knows there’s no getting rid of them now.

“Are you…” Jon starts, eyes fixed intently on the door. “Marinette, are you babysitting?”

She only sighs in answer and opens the door to get back inside. She doesn’t close it in their face as much as she wants to, because she knows they’re about to follow.

The girls are both fussing in their crib and Marinette scoops Scarlet up for a nappy change. She takes the time to put Asha’s pacifier back into her mouth before moving to the changing table.

“There, there. No need to cry. It’s just a soil nappy. We know how to take care of those.” She coos gently. “There, you go. All clean. I’m going to change Asha now and then we’ll have a nice breakfast, okay?”

She puts Scarlett back in the crib despite her complains and repeats the whole process with Asha.

She can feel the boys’ eyes on her, and it makes her want to lash out.

“Are they ours?” Damian demands.

“They’re mine,” she snaps, not looking at him. “There’re no fathers list on the birth certificates. They don’t need any dads, they have me.”

“But they’re ours, right?” Jon presses, tone so hopeful, but Marinette refuses to answer. That’s an answer in itself.

“Why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you call?” Damian speaks again.

“I called you!” She hissed, eyes blazing in anger, but keeping her tone even so as not to upset her babies too much. “I called you and left voicemails and then both your numbers were disconnected, and I got the message! If you didn’t want anything to do with me, then I didn’t want anything to do with you either!”

“I didn’t change my number,” Damian says slowly, eyes never leaving the little face on the changing table. And then what he said seem to register and he retrieves his phone with a deep frown to swipe through the apps. “It’s not the same number.” He then looks at Jon with an almost wide-eyed look and Jon takes out his own phone to seemingly so the same manip.

“Me too,” he reveals, shocked. “Someone changed our numbers. Damian!” He hisses, this time with a glare for his boyfriend.

“Marinette, can you please give us the possibility to explain-”

“I’m this close to throw you both out, Damian! There’s nothing you could say that would make anything that you did okay!” She replies hotly.

“Please, Mari,” he pleads. “Please, just hear us out. You can throw us out after. I promise, if you want us to go, we will.”

Jon doesn’t add anything, but he bites his bottom lip and nods jerkily.

“Just… just go. Wait in the living room. I need to feed the girls.”

They both listen, thankfully. Marinette needs a minute.

Someone changed their phone numbers? Without their consent? That seems stupid and unfeasible, but… but she wants to believe them. She missed them. God, she missed them so much.

Marinette fusses a bit with Asha’s onesie and tries to make a list of all the reasons why she shouldn’t let them back in her life. When Scarlett makes an impatient noise that announces her readiness to cry again, Marinette knows that she can’t wait any longer. She scoops the girls with their favorite plushies and goes to the living room.

Damian and Jon are sitting squished on the armchair beside the couch.

Marinette sighs again and sits carefully in front of the couch on the plush carpet. It takes some maneuvering, but soon Asha is leaning across her lap, gently sucking her pacifier and looking at Marinette with all the trust her little baby heart knows. Marinette arranges the Tikki plushy on her tummy so she can grasp it.

“Let’s feed Scarlett,” she tells her daughter. “You know she’s always hungry.”

She then uncovers her left breast and, removing the pacifier, guides Scarlett to her nipple. The baby latches onto it and start sucking greedily, her little fingers kneading Marinette’s sleep shirt.

And then she waits. She’s not going to make things easy for them.

Jon is the first to move, seemingly transfigured by the sign of his daughter. He stands up in the living-room to face her.

“It’ll be easier to show you.” He says, before starting to spin so fast he’s only a blur, but when he stops, he’s wearing Superboy’s uniform and Marinette feels like a stone has dropped to the bottom of her stomach.

“I’m Superboy,” Jon tells her almost gently, as if he doesn’t want to spook her.

“And I’m Robin,” Damian utters after him. He hasn’t moved from the armchair, but there’s a green domino mask between his fingers.

“Oh,” Marinette says quietly, before she drops her gaze to Scarlett’s face. Her daughter has closed her eyes while she’s nursing.

Marinette… Marinette doesn’t know what to say. She knows what it means to be a hero. She used to be one, after all. She knows the sacrifices, the missed opportunities and the excuses. She knows the necessity for a secret identity and what it means to trust someone with it.

“You broke my heart,” she admits in a whisper, because what else can she say in the face of that, and she can feel her eyes prickle with tears.

Jon drops to his knees in front of her, back in his jeans and hoody.

“I’m so sorry, Mari. I never wanted to do that. It broke mine too to end things, but we couldn’t tell you.”

“We asked for the permission to tell you our identities,” Damian says, kneeling beside Jon on the carpet to face her, “but we were denied.”

“We had a long mission,” Jon continues. “Dad, Aunt Kara, Conner and me, as the last Kryptonians, were asked to help two planets come to an understanding. They were at war and their whole solar system was suffering from it. The mission was to stop the war long enough for a ceasefire and then helps with negotiating a peace treaty. Green Lantern helped and Damian-”

“I wasn’t going to let Jon walks into a dangerous fight without back up,” Damian cuts him off.

“I’m basically indestructible!” Jon replies without any real heat, proving it was an old argument. “And Dad, Aunt Kara and Kon were my back up!”

Damian ignores the interruption, focusing back on Marinette.

“The Green Lantern Corps was part of the mission too and while it’s officially over, the situation is still tense on those planets. The Corps is keeping an eye on things for now. We may have to go back if things turn south again, but hopefully, it won’t require our deployment again.”

“And we wanted to tell you the truth.” Jon tells her, earnest and heartbroken. “But when we asked our dads, they said our relationship was too new. That we couldn’t risk it. Even more so because we were going to leave for months and we wouldn’t be there to ‘make sure you don’t tell anyone’.” he finishes bitterly.

“As much as we didn’t want to end our relationship with you, without the permission to tell you the truth, we couldn’t disappear from the face of the earth and invent an excuse like ‘we’re doing a tour of the world and you’re not invited’.” Damian sighs and grabs Jon’s hand tightly. “We spent the last few months trying to come up with a way to win you back. Anytime we had some down time, we brainstormed about what we’ll do once we’re back on Earth.”

During their explanation, Marinette had switched the girls for feeding. Across her lap, Scarlett was now looking in direction of the men, probably intrigued by those new voices she didn’t know.

“And the phone numbers?” She eventually asks.

Damian slumps, breaking his rigid posture. “Do you know who my father is?” He asks.

“Batman?” She tries, but she’s almost certain. If he’s Robin, then it makes sense for his father to be the big bat himself. Which also mean that his siblings are the other Gotham vigilantes.

“Yes. Jon and I had to leave our phones here. Even the communications with the Watchtower were scarce. If you called more than once, Father must have changed our numbers.”

“But why?” She growls. “What right did he have?! You’re both adults! He didn’t even try to find out why I was calling you!”

“I’m sorry, Mari. I know Father loves me, but he tends to do what he thinks is best without always consulting us. Rest assure that I’ll have words with him.”

Asha choses that moment to push away her breast and Marinette does the usual ministrations to clean her face and clears her stomach of gas.

She hesitates a second, before closing her eyes with a deep sigh.

When she opens them again, she holds Asha out like a present. Jon scrambles closer without hesitation and very carefully accepts her in his arms, following her instructions on how best to hold her.

“This is Asha. Asha Gina Dupain-Cheng. She’s Dami’s.”

“Oh my god,” Jon exhales and a few tears immediately escapes his eyes. “Hello, Asha. It’s very nice to meet you.” His voice cracks a bit as Damian looks over his shoulder with an expression so soft and lost that Marinette’s heart aches with it. She beckons Damian closer too and places Scarlett in his own arms.

“And this is Scarlett Sabine Dupain-Cheng. She’s Jon’s.”

Damian is more confident in holding her, so he frees a hand to gently run his finger down her skin.

“Hello, Scarlett.”

“How…” Jon chocks on his tears. “How does it work? They’re twins, right?”

Arms free, Marinette slumps against the couch.

“It’s called ‘heteropaternal superfecundation’. My ovaries released two eggs at the same time, and both were fertilized. That alone would have resulted in fraternal twins. Except that one was fertilized by Jon and the other by Dami. So, twin babies with different bio dads.”

Because her Luck was just like that. Of course, Tikki’s influence would make Marinette’s first pregnancy the result of almost impossible odds.

For a long moment no one say anything. Jon and Damian are pressed so tightly together, both alternating looking at each baby in their arms, that it brings s a reluctant smile to Marinette.

“You have so much groveling to do,” she tells them. “You broke my heart. I’m not kidding when I say that. And the father section on the birth certificates is going to stay blank until I can trust you again. But you do something like that again and Scarlett, Asha and I are out of your lives for good. I don’t care if Scarlett is half-alien. They’re mine more than they’re yours right now. I carried them for eight months, I gave birth to them, and now I’m feeding them. And I was alone for all of that.”

“I promise, Habibti, that we’ll prove to you we’re here to stay. We want you and we want the girls.”

“It was a long mission,” Jon grins cheekily. “We definitely earned some downtime.”

“Exactly,” Damian agrees. “What would you like for breakfast, Mari? I’ll cook.”

“I made French toasts, last night. The preparation is in the fridge. You can cook that.”

With a small smile, Damian carefully gives her back Scarlett and then presses a dry kiss to Marinette’s forehead, before disappearing in the kitchen.

Jon moves until he’s sitting by her side against the couch and smiles at her. She missed his smile.

“So, what can you tell me about your daughters?”

“They are very healthy babies,” Marinette starts. “Scarlett definitely inherits your appetite. I need to complement her diet with formula because I don’t produce enough milk for all her feeding, plus Asha’s. That’s the alien biology, I suppose?”

“Yeah. Mom had some problem with that too when she had me, but at least she only had one baby to feed. What about Asha?”

“She’s fine with just breast milk, but she’s fussier when it’s time for sleep. I hope she’s not a premature insomniac, but now that I know about your nightly activities, I shan’t hold my breath.”

Jon snickers.

Breakfast is a lively affair. The French toast was only one portion, so Dami made pancakes and a fruit salad to accommodate Jon’s and his appetite. For the first time in weeks, Marinette can eat without one of her arms being commandeered by one of the twins. She knows things aren’t completely better. They need to talk about their relationship, their expectations, and relearn what it means to be together, all three of them plus two babies. But that particular conversation can wait a bit. For now, Marinette tells them about Asha’s curiosity and Scarlett’s boundless energy, about some of the weirdest things that happened during her pregnancy.

Things will work out. She’ll make sure of that.

[alldayangst]

gold rush (Tom Holland)

All of my fics are LGBT and PoC friendly. Inspired by gold rush by Taylor Swift. Everybody wants Tom, but you don’t like a gold rush. WC: 2.7K words. 

“Y/N, I just wanted to say again, thank you for coming in today and doing this for us.” Tom’s dad, Dominic, said as he displaced papers across desks, earl grey swaying like an angry lake in his mug. Approaching footsteps hinted that the star of the show was soon to be hold. In other words, Tom was running behind.

The door creaked and light from the corridor crept through like Sun peeping through curtains of the Night. It refusing to shut after Tom budged and pushed was maybe divine punishment for him being so late, and maybe provided the bit of laughter you needed after rolling out of bed at 6am for this, for him. When the door eventually did close, Tom turned around and saw you in all your glory; much taller than he remembered, more assured than he’d imagined, and more gorgeous than drowned out and half forgotten memories of you could ever fabricate.

You and Tom ran in the same social circles, but hadn’t seen each other since Tom’s career imploded when you were both nineteen. As much as Tom felt he owed his heart and soul to the UK, he maintained an almost permanent fixture on the States. It started to feel like his trips back to England were in fact actual holiday. At one point, you were in love with Tom, but meeting became a constant battle of ‘here, not there’ and your heart grew tired of the duck and goose chase. The gravity of the situation was too much for you, whom hadn’t even tasted their twenties yet. 

“Y/N!” Tom launched at you and held you in tight embrace. You let go of the hug, but he didn’t. And his dad watched on in momentary awe as you wrapped your arms around Tom once again, who breathed in every part of you with unwavering adoration.

“Tom!” You rubbed along his back as he hummed. “When I was told we were gonna have a ghost writer, I had no idea it was gonna be you.”

Tom and his dad (being an author) were collaborating on a book, a million dollar idea that’d been years in the making. Tom had stalled it, his dad told you out of simple insecurity. Now that the world was a stage, he was worried people would criticise his dyslexia with every line he wrote, that every stroke of his pen would reveal him as a rare type of monster that lacked intellect, he pondered that he wasn’t insightful enough in some way. His dad may have written a book about Tom outfaming him, but Tom felt like he’d always live in Dom’s shadow in this respect. Fresh from Oxford with an English Bachelor’s degree, Dom employed you to get grease on the gears to commence writing. Tom had always come out of his shell when you were around.

Your writing session lasted from 8 til noon, when Tom had promo with LadBible or Entertainment Weekly or whoever had bid the highest from his presence that day.

The door swung open and three men in all black and mics saddled around their waists called for and led Tom out of the room.

“Tom, session’s over. We need to get you to your BBC promo in 30 and we’re already running behind schedule.’ One cloaked Tom in a jacket you were sure was more expensive than your own home and another whispered something into a walkie talkie: “Holland is on the move. Check the back entrance is clear.” With that, Tom rose to his feet and left completely opposite of the way you came in. Without a word, no goodbye.

You and Dom left the building together around ten minutes later, where ten men with large cameras stood, lenses focused on you, glaring at you, not sure what to make of you. One of the men screams “Hey! You dating Tom Holland” and after that all you hear is clicks and all you see is bright flashing lights and Dom clenches your hand and leads you to your taxi cab.

The next time you see Tom is sooner than expected. The Hollands were hosting a last minute dinner party and you found yourself sitting opposite Tom, feeling his hard, hot and heavy gaze on you. The tension in the room was so thick not even a chainsaw cut through.

“Next topic,” You picked up a card from the deck and read it aloud. “Politics!” You said devilishly as you sip on what was left of the white wine in your cup, and now that your thought process is blurred; Tom’s longing gaze puts you at dismay.

“Fuck!” Harry exploded, and you hear their mother hiss. “Fuck I hate politics, there’s no making it out alive!” he remarked as he drummed on the table cloth, drunken excitement brewing a new energy in the room.

You go on like this for hours until dinner party is dinner party no more. And while Dom, Nikki and all of Tom’s siblings have chosen to exit stage left, it’s 1am and you and Tom have yet to leave the scene.

Tom sets down your deck of debate cards in favour of a genuine moment.

“What are you doing these days, Y/N?” Tom’s not looking at you, he’s looking at your knee as he rubs circles on it. You want to look down there too, see what he finds so intriguing; but you decide against it in fear you might spontaneously combust. You don’t know if this moment’s supposed to be intimate or innocent and you’re not sure if you want to find out.

So you put up a wall.

“I should be asking you the same thing, Holland.” You say sarcastically. “What have you been doing these days? I haven’t seen you around.” Your eyebrows scrunched up together but you’ve got a big, idiot grin on your face that’s more than telling. Tom giggles at your facetiousness.

Tom scratches his head in mock thought. He never clocks out, always putting on a show. “I don’t know - uh.” You’re laughing before Tom has even told the punchline, ‘cause I guess anything’s funny when it’s said by the one you love.”I’m kind of -” He snatches an old Spiderman comic off the floor. “I’m kinda doing this acting thing at the moment. Playing, y’know, this guy.”

“Well I wish you better luck in the future.” Tom has stopped rubbing circles but instead places his two hands on your knees as you rock back in laughter.

“I’m serious, Y/N. What do you do now?”

“Um.” You suddenly forgot your entire career as Tom, with no shade of subtlety, stares right into your soul. “I got my degree. I write like little stories, y’know? Have you ever heard of folklore?”

Tom shook his head.

“They’re like these little, old beautiful myths. And I write them for a living. And if I’m lucky, they get published in The Times. If I’m even luckier, I get to work with my old best friend - ” You feel your world stop temporarily as you call Tom your ‘best friend’ and you pause for all of 0.3 seconds to register Tom’s reaction but his face doesn’t flinch. “-Writing a book with him and his dad.” And that makes Tom smile. So he doesn’t have to tell you he missed you, you just know.

‘Undivided appearance’ and ‘undivided attention’ don’t necessarily mean the same thing in Hollywood as they do in real life, and you learn that the hard way in your writing session.

Tom may have been sat right next to you, but he was miles away. He was doing press with Cosmo, who hadn’t stopped tagging him with blue hearts on his Instagram, Twitter and Snapchat stories, causing his phone to go off every two seconds. You looked at the phone and then at him who then got the hint and put it on silent. Then there was a knock on the door. Tom rushed to open it, expecting that Dom had sent down a food delivery to egg you on finishing this chapter. You rehashed his childhood like a million times - in fact, you were part of it - so when it came to writing the parts that hurt, where you took a more supporting role in his life, you needed his help. The fact is, the knock at the door had come from one of Tom’s men (Tom liked to call him Man In Black no. 3) who hadn’t said as much as a ‘hi’ before he made his announcement. “Tom, you’re on the line with Cosmo in 10.” The man stepped back and pulled out his walkie talkie, “Holland knows he’s on the line with Cosmo at 10.” And then continued to pace around the hallway.

Cosmo called as he said they would and you almost felt for. second like tom might enjoy an entertainment magazine’s company more than yours. The interviewer made glaring comments and passive flirts at Tom who just blushed and chuckled and sipped his water like the woman on the phone calling him ‘hot’ was just too much to handle. At one point, she says: “What must it be like to grow up that beautiful, Tom? With your hair falling into place like dominoes.” You’re not expecting it when Tom tilts the phone so you’re in view. “Well I’m with the most beautiful being on Earth right now so..” Tom looks at you as if to ask ‘is this okay?” and you know it’s too late for these kind of questions, because that moment is headline fodder, so you smile not to make him feel bad for opening Pandora’s box. But Tom is merciless and likes to rub salt in the wound. “This is Y/N! Y/N’s helping me write the book with my Dad! We go way back.” He covers his mouth as soon as he says it. “Shit! They’re not supposed to know about the book yet.”

This is the moment, you think, where you believe when they say your first love is the one you never let go.

And you can’t think of anything purer than the love you have for him.

Tom thinks being on land is boring. He likes being strung from chords 30 feet in the air, and drowning in despair through scenes of emotional turmoil. You want to tell him you’re an arrow from Cupid’s bow about to reach him, but you couldn’t recover from the splinters if Tom shut you down. After all, Tom was a gold rush. A treasure that everyone had discovered but nobody owned. How precious is a jewel that anybody could take home with them?

Tom had invited you to a visit to Brighton with him, a city near the coast, for some inspiration on writing his section of the book. 

You accepted. And because you did, you found yourself at the beginning of the end, on Tom’s boat in Brighton. “We don’t have to talk about the book right now.” Tom throws a stack of blue tinted paper on the floor. His dyslexia meant that spelling and reading was so much easier when done on blue pages, and you could only guess that was the reason the body of water around you brought him so much peace. So when you saw that something might compromise your best boy’s happiness, you point it out. To give Tom a little bit of time to exit before things got ugly.

“Tom, I see someone in the bushes.”

“Yeah. It’s a pap.” Tom mumbled nonchalantly. 

“They’re here to get pictures of me,” He turned to face you. “and you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, the fans ship us. Think we’d be a good couple after that Cosmo stunt. We would have been a good couple when we were like, 18.” He laughs.

“Huh, yeah.” You look down.

“The best one around.” And you can’t tell if he’s serious.

You rip off one of his blue sheets. “I’m coming. I got hit with inspo.” And you trail to a different section of the boat. A very obvious click of the camera from a shrub nearby coaxes your pen to write without a second thought, How is he so accustomed to this? Fake private moments, protected by sheer glass curtains?

You scrunched your paper, well his paper, into a ball. 

Your mind had turned his life into folklore. You weren’t sure if that was crossing a line, so you just put the ball into your bag and hide it until he hits you with the spark again.

“Let me see it.” Tom says.

“No.”

“You ran off to write it and won’t let me see it?” 

You held your bag at your hip in defence. “No, Tom. Drop it.” 

Tom’s face drops a little bit, but then he reaches into his own bag and reveals a deck of your debate cards. “I know what will cheer you up, good ol’ Y/N.” He sets a card on the wooden table between you two. 

“Do you believe in a higher power?”

You toyed with the pendant around your neck which revealed your faith. “Do you?”

“I don’t. But I believe in soulmates.”

You look to the left to really ponder on what Tom is saying, and a paparazzis captures another photo of you in the corner of your eye.

“And you don’t think there’s a higher power that manufactures our souls to make our soulmates?”

Tom feigns a scowl. “That’s ridiculous.”

You scoffed. “How very contrarian of you.”

“What the fuck does that mean.”

“It means you contradict yourself, Thomas.” You laugh as he holds his chest in fake hurt.

“Are you implying I’m anything less than perfect?”

“Never.”

Never. Because you didn’t believe that to be true. 

“Good. Cause you’d have to be punished.” Tom picks you up and throws you in the water below before jumping in with you.

On your way home you stop at the yours and Tom’s writing booth, scavenging through your bag to drop off Tom’s notepad, some scrunched up blue and white papers you and Tom thought could still help you write his book. You’d made an addition to your love-hazed scribblings about Tom and reckon you’d die if he found it. You managed to throw the other in the water, excusing yourself with “It’s utterly awful.”, to which you and Tom agreed you wouldn’t throw any more paper in the ocean cause the poor fish already had it hard enough.

You and Tom had a session the next day. Tom was excited for the day, and you could tell because he’d given his phone to one of his big babysitters for the time he had you.

“I think that’s all of yours.” You and Tom made a business out of unscrunching your paper balls to see if they had any useful ideas. You were certain you reached the end of Tom’s. All of his notes had ‘T.H’ written on the back in big and were scribed on blue paper. When it came to your little ‘secret admirer’ notes you weren’t worried - you had an English degree and were quick to think on your feet and was ready to make something up when it came to opening it. 

“No, this one’s mine.” He’s confident, so you let him have it. He goes to pick up your tea and then realises it’s nowhere near warm, and was the one you made for yourself when you crept in yesterday evening. Tom has a smile on his face, and then he doesn’t. Before he goes to read it aloud, his eyes tell you he’s reading it again and again and again. “At dinner parties, I’ll call you out on your contrarian shit, and the coastal towns we wondered round will never see a love as pure as it.”

The look on Tom’s face gives you the splinters. He tries to look at you but you know he can’t. You don’t blame him. You can’t look at him either. “I really thought this was a good friendship.”

You hum and nod your head in agreement, pull your lips into a thin straight line as streaks of tears abandon your eyes. This was worse than Tom rubbing salt in your wounds. He’s rubbing dirt in your painful fucking gashes and you are reminded of why this didn’t work before, why it will never be.

And you wouldn’t dare to dream about him anymore.

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