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1985keery · 6 years ago

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Unwelcomed - (sister!reader x brother!sherlock x brother!mycroft)

imagine: being sherlocks little sister and getting hurt while you’re staying at 221b

a/n: i’m on my period and sad so this is ANGSTY

warning: she’s a long one -- suggested rape but nothing happens

It was hard being around the Holmes boys, everyone knew that. They somehow made everyone around them feel stupid. But it was harder for you, being their little sister. You’re only 16, so you don’t get to be with your brothers much.

That might be a good thing though, for every time you’re around them your self esteem comes down 4 or 5 levels. You can’t can’t keep up with their advanced minds, so when they go on cases or talk about secret files you feel so tiny. Especially when they say things like “Y/N, turn the other way please, your ignorance is distracting me” (guess which brother said that)

Your brothers also aren’t fond of sentiment. “A chemical defeat” Sherlock had told you. You went to bed in tears that night. All you wanted was to tell your brother goodnight, and that you loved him. Because you did, but they saw you as an annoyance.

Your mother demanded you to spend the week at 221b, claiming you needed ‘brother sister bonding time’. You begged her not to, but she didn’t listen. Your mother was smart too, really smart, but she still treated you like a human.

You were outside 221b, giving yourself the usual pep talk “Don’t listen to what they say, Y/N. You are smart. You are worthy. You are important.”

You open the door and walk through the creeky stairs, smelling the mold from 221c. With a shaky hand, you knock on their door. A smiling John Watson opens it. “Y/N, it’s so nice to see you again!” How you desperately wish John was your brother.

It didn’t use to be like this. Your mum says that when you were first born, Sherlock didn’t let anyone touch you. He was always holding you, and if he wasn’t, he was waiting his turn.

But then he moved out, and saw how dark and cold the real world truly was. Plus, the influence from Mycroft who moved out before you were born.

“Hello John, where’s Sherlock?” You ask, with a forced smile. “In the kitchen, working on an experiment.” You nod and walk through the door. You spot him at the table, with safety glasses on and looking at something under a microscope. “Hello, brother mine”

He doesn’t even acknowledge you.

You suddenly remember what you brought him. “I brought you some of mums cookies, they’re homemade” you say, still nothing. “He doesn’t- He doesn’t when he’s on a case” Johns says and you look back at your brother. He has lost a little weight. “Oh, okay”

It’s silent in the kitchen for a while, until John breaks the silence by saying “Sherlock, say hello to your sister. He does a wave without looking up. “Shelock plea-” John starts, but you wave him off. “It’s okay, I’m used to it”

You look at his table, ignoring Johns look of pity to you, and notice all the science equipment. “Ouu, Formaldehyde” you say, reaching for the beaker. That is, until, you hear a deep “Don’t touch that”

“So he speaks” you say with an eyeroll. He grunts in response. “I think I’m gonna talk to Mrs Hudson for a while.” you suggest, wanting nothing more than to get out of the flat.

John nods and you walk out the door, walking right past Mrs Hudsons flat and into the London air. You’ve studied the art of deduction, trying to be worthy of your brothers time, and now you’re putting that to use. You start walking, deducing everyone the best you can. For example, the single mother who works as a waitress that’s going home to her daughter and Labrador.

You start to admire the beautiful buildings that reach the sky, The people all you look busy so you try to stay to herself. You reach into your pocket and get your phone and earphones out and listen to your favorite song. The music zoning you out of the real world, so all you do is walk and admire. Which might seem glorious, you zone out so much you forgot which path to go back, so you are hopelessly lost.

It’s better than being at Sherlocks, you thought.

----

Pretty soon the sun started to set, and John prepared dinner. “Did you really have to be a cock to her, she loves you you know” Sherlock rolls his eyes. “I know, how’s that my fault” John shakes his head and rubs the bridge of his nose. “I’m gonna go get her from Ms. Hudson and you’re gonna apologize.”

He only grunts.

John walks down the stares and knocks on the old ladys door. She opens it with her usual bright smile.”Hello, dear”

“Hi, uh, dinners ready so I came to get Y/N” Ms Hudson looks at him with a confused face. “What do you mean love, she isn’t here. Hasn’t been all night” John sprints back upstairs.

----

You watch the sunset through the windows between buildings. Your phone died a while ago, so you sit on a bench and admire the view. Now you know why Sherlock moved here. The sights, the people, just the air in general is different. It’s exciting.

You keep going, but after walking all evening you wander out of London. This part definitely isn’t as glamours, with buildings falling apart and trash on the streets. However, you keep walking. You know good and well how to fight, you’re a Holmes after all.

----

“Sherlock! Sherlock!” John yells, running into the room. Sherlock’s head pops up at the amount of concern in his friends voice. “What is it? What’s wrong?” John puts on his coat and throws Sherlock his “It’s Y/N. She isn’t a Hudsons and she hasn’t been all night.”

Sherlock immediately jumps out of his chair He grabs his scarf and gloves and ran outside. “Which direction” John ask. “Right. She always goes right. She says something like ‘if it’s not right to go right then why would it be named that’, Quite ignorant actually” Sherlock says and John rules his eyes, “You can mock her later, we have to find her now.” he says, and Sherlock nods

----

As you’re walking, you bump into someone. “Oh, I’m sorry”. The stranger looks you up and done and you start to get very uncomfortable. Now you realize how dumb you are, being a 16 year old girl with cheekbones and a nice figure walking alone at night. “It’s alright doll, I know how you can make it up to me”

You start to back away but he grabs your wrist. “Let me go, now” You say. Mycroft warned you about this, saying “Men are filthy, disgusting creatures Y/N. Do not get involved” If only he could see you now.

“Tsk Tsk. Nah babe, you’re coming with me” He tries to pull you, but you use your free hand to punch him. You punch his gut and hit his privates in one move. He didn’t like that. “You stupid bitch!” He yells, punching you to the ground. You try to stand up before he punches you again, harder this time. You hit him again and try to run away, but he grabs hold of your hair and slams you back against the brick wall.

----

To say Sherlock was scared was an understatement. In truth, he loved you deeply, he just didn’t know how to show it. You were his baby, but he didn’t wanna except that. He didn’t want to accept that he felt sentiment. He actually did think you were quite smart, and your mother calls him every time another one of your report cards come out, claiming how proud he would be of her.

The duo have ran all over london, looking for you “What if we can’t find her” John says. It’s what they’ve both been thinking, he’s just the first to say it outloud. “Don’t go there” Sherlock growls. It’s then ,when they hear a loud cry, and they both ran towards the sound.

----

The man had several advantages. He was way bigger than you, and was able to throw you up against the wall, But you fought hard, as hard as you could, and it wasn’t until he hit you with a brick found in the alley that you screamed. You were done for, and you knew, the only thing you could do was take it. But then you heard several footsteps, and although your vision was blurry sand your ears were ringing, you could still see two new figures beside that man. One tall and one short. One with shaggy hair and one with a button nose.

Through all the pain, you managed to smile.

Meanwhile, Sherlock was beating the shit out of that man. “John, go to her” he demands, and the doctor obeys. “Can you hear me?” he ask, cupping your face. You can’t really do anything, so you just squint at him before passing out.

“She’s unconscious” he says, making Sherlock hit the man even harder. By then, Mycroft’s helicopter had arrived. Sherlock called him in the beginning, and Mycroft was ready to kill him over the fact he lost her,

----

You wake up to the sound of beeping, and the smell of cleaning supplies. Your vision of hazy when you first open your eyes, but after a few blinks you can see again. The sight truly shocks you.

Your brothers are holding your hands, Sherlock on right and Mycroft on left. Both of them asleep but still clutching on to you.

You wiggle your fingers and both of them wake up. “Y/N, oh dear Y/N”

“Our sweet girl”

“How do you feel”

“Sherlock, go get the doctor”

“I’m not leaving her!”

“Neither am I!”

“You’re the oldest you go!”

“You’re the one that lost her!”

“Boys!”

They both stop their bickering and look at you. “I already pressed the button” They nod and sink back in their seats.

“Three days, Y/N’ Mycroft says, eyes going from the ground to you. “What?” “That’s how long you were out, three days” You look to Sherlock but he can’t look you in the eyes. “Oh my god, Sherlock, I’m-”

“What the hell were you doing out there anyway” He finally looks up, eyes red and cheeks puffys. He’s been crying. “I-”

“You what?”

“You didn’t wanna be with me so I didn’t wanna be with you”

It’s silent, the boys trying to soak up your words. “What do you mean” Mycroft ask. “I mean, you guys are so smart, and appreciated. The worlds only consulting detective and the ruler of the british government. How am I supposed to keep up? I’m nothing, a no one. Sherlock, when I first walked into your apartment you wouldn’t even look at me. I just feel like you guys see me as a pest and it really hurts me”

The boys look at each other and then back at the girl in the hospital bed. “We never meant to make you feel this way. We love you, darling girl, as hard as that is to say. We were devastated when you were in surgery. Hell, Mycroft even cried” Sherlock says, and Mycroft punches him, making you giggle.

“What he’s trying to say is, we do lo- appreciate you. We never want you to feel like you are unwelcomed around us. We will always be here with open arms whenever you want us”

And so they hugged, and even though the family is a mess, with a sociopath, the british government, and a brave girl in a hospital bed, they made it work,

#bbc sherlock #Sherlock #sherlock fanfic #sherlock angst #mycroft holmes #mycroft x reader #sad #family #john watson #John Hamish Watson #fanfic #writing

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joeybelle · 6 years ago

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Oh, how the tables have turned - Epilogue

Clyde Logan x Reader

Inspired by @clyde-prompts: “Some guys are rude and use ableist slurs against Clyde. The reader is with them, and although she feels bad about what’s happening, is too scared to say anything in front of her “friends”. She comes back to the bar a couple nights later to try and show him she’s not a bad person. They get to know each other and fall in love”. Doesn’t fully follow the prompt.

Warnings: Language, first person POV, fluff.

Word count: ~4500

Rating: Mature

Setting: Pre-heist

A.N: So this is the end. I will be keeping the universe open for future one shots regarding their lives, but the main story ends now. Thank you all very much for coming with me this far, for reading and taking the time to like and comment. If you stumble over this fic anytime in the future, even 50 years from now, feel free to leave me a comment, I will always read them even if I will be too old (or too dead) to reply to them all. Love you all, and thank you for reading.

A ton of love and hugs for my beta, @llexeh, the only person in the world that can be more excited for my fics than I am, and the most supportive person on the planet.

Tags: @lonelyravenclaw @kyloren-supreme-ben @onmyknees4steve @elsablackswift @helloimindelaware @mwcritics @makingtimemine @littlekylo

The phone vibrated in my pocket as I tried to not trip on the dangling power cord. ‘I’m online,’ said my mother’s text. I dropped the laptop on the kitchen table and texted her back, telling her to wait a couple of minutes.

Clyde was studying me from the other side of the kitchen, wide eyed, cautiously munching on his bacon as I cursed and tried to untangle the cables. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve gotta skype my mom,” I said, disappearing under the table and trying to force the power cord into a socket. “I didn’t talk to her much since I’ve moved and she’s really eager to tell me about her trip to Europe.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No, why? Ow, fuck!” I tried scrambling out and hit my head in the process. “Why do you wanna leave?” I asked, vigorously massaging the top of my head.

“So your mother doesn’t find out I’m here?”

I gave him the side-eye as I took a seat opposite him. It had already been a few weeks since the night with the storm and he had been spending so much time at my house that I was tempted to just tell him to move in. But I knew it might be a little early for a big move like that, especially since he seemed to be a creature of habit, so I just let him organically move all of his stuff to my place. I already had half a wardrobe full of his clothes, since he occasionally dropped by his place to grab some clean ones, and then never bothered to take them back after I washed them. But he was still using the spare toothbrush, and my shampoo to wash his hair; somehow I had the feeling he’d still do that even if he officially moved in.

So mornings like this were pretty common. He’d usually come home after midnight, take a shower and then crawl into bed next to me. I’d wake up to greet him, and we’d fall asleep in each other’s arms. If I went to work the next day, he’d wake up to have breakfast with me and then go back to sleep after I left, but since today was the first day of holiday and I had nowhere else to be, I let him sleep in.

It was a beautiful, rainy morning, droplets rhythmically hitting my windows as I made breakfast (brunch?). I had time to do some chores and drink my coffee before he emerged from the bedroom, looking like a cute and ruffled sasquatch. Mom had called in the meantime and knowing that I’d be home all day she wanted me to call her over Skype, so here I was, side-eyeing Clyde who was chewing on his bacon, as I waited for the laptop to turn on.

“Why do you think I wouldn’t want my mom to know you’re here?” Sometimes his way of thinking baffled me.

“So you don’t have to explain to her… about me. About us.”

I knew this all came from a place of deep insecurity, but sometimes I just didn’t get it how he came to certain conclusions, that were completely ridiculous in my opinion.

“I need exactly two words to explain the situation to her: ‘we’re’ and ‘dating’,” I said, getting up to refill my coffee cup, stealing a kiss on my way to the coffee maker. Bacon kisses were my favourite thing in the morning. “Do you want some more?” I asked, taking the coffee pot with me.

“Yes, please,” he said, pushing his cup forward. He lifted my top a little as I was filling his cup, placing a chain of greasy kisses on my stomach.

“That tickles,” I laughed and he somehow took that as a challenge, grabbed my butt to hold me in place and started blowing raspberries on my stomach, making me almost howl with laughter.

“Stooop,” I whined once I managed to escape his grip. “Look what you made me do,” I said, pointing at the coffee I had spilled on the table in the midst on my laughing fit. I tutted and climbed onto his lap, straddling his hips. He pulled me close to his chest as he kissed me hard, running his hand under my top, caressing the small of my back. He’d squeeze my butt to make me push up against him, grinding my crotch against the rough fabric of his jeans.

It took me a moment to realize that the sound coming from my laptop was in fact the Skype jingle, letting me know that my mom had already gotten bored of waiting for me to call and had taken charge of the situation.

“Shit, mom!” I stumbled out of Clyde’s embrace, but didn’t return to my seat until after I had kissed a few more of the beauty marks peppered across his face. Eventually I sat on my chair and answered the call, trying to fix my top in the time it took Skype to connect.

“Sorry, mom,” I said, after the mandatory ‘hello, can you hear me?’ and ‘I can’t see you turn on the camera’ greetings that came with using Skype. “I got a bit distracted.”

“Did you burn down the house yet?” she asked, crossing her arms, visibly annoyed that I’d let her wait. She had important things to do. She was a retired person, after all.

“I appreciate your trust, but no. Not yet,” I said, trying to think of ways to introduce Clyde to her. I didn’t want to just blurt it out of the blue, especially since I knew she was eager to tell me all about her trip, so I figured I would get that out of the way first. “How was your trip?”

“The trip was great! You should come with us the next time, you would have so much fun.”

“Next time?” It was a good thing that I had brought the coffee pot with me, because I knew I’d need a whole lot of coffee to survive mom’s retelling of the trip. I loved my mom, but she had a way of making any story ten times longer than it would be necessary. So I braced myself, kept the coffee pot close to me and nodded once in a while as she recounted everything in microscopic detail.

Clyde was silently laughing at me from the other side of the table every time my mom said something outrageous and I rolled my eyes so hard I was afraid they’d do a 360. Occasionally he’d hand me a piece of bacon, careful to stay hidden from my laptop’s camera. I loved that we could have moments like this when we didn’t have to use words to understand each other. He was usually a pretty reserved person, preferring to listen instead of speaking, so he was very good at noticing things. After a while I found out that he wasn’t that hard to read either, most of the time he was unable to completely hide his emotions no matter how much he tried.

The roaring of thunder made me jump in my chair and stopped my mom’s narration. “What was that?” she asked, looking a little worried.

“Just the thunder,” I said, taking a few deep breaths to calm my heartbeat. “It’s been raining since last night.”

“Oh, that reminds me, I’ve been meaning to ask how you've gone through that storm, I’ve heard it was pretty bad in some areas.”

“Yeah, but not here. There was some flooding in the next town, but luckily nothing serious happened here. Just some broken trees and power lines.”

“Oh, that’s good. I was really worried about that leaky roof. Did you manage to fix it before the storm?”

“Yeah, didn’t I tell you about that?” I was certain I’d at least texted her about it, but I might have remembered wrong. My memory wasn’t that great at my old age.

“Did you hire someone to do it? Did it cost you a lot?”

“Nope. The Logan brothers fixed it for me. Almost for free.” I glimpsed over the monitor and I saw that Clyde had stopped chewing and I could almost hear him swallow. “It only costed me a mountain of muffins.”

“Oh, the Logans. Are they still living there?”

Clyde had straightened his back, pressing himself into the wall like he was trying to melt into it at some point. I had a feeling he didn’t like where this was going.

“Mhm,” I replied, keeping my eyes on him trying to tell him mentally that everything was going to be alright. I hoped.

“Those were a pair of lovable airheads,” my mom laughed. “Did you know that the youngest had a crush on you?”

“Yeah, I just found out.” Clyde seemed to slowly, but steadily, lose all the colour in his face. “Jimmy told me.”

“Oh, poor kid. What was his name? Was it Clyde by chance?” I nodded and my mom laughed again. “He was so in love with you, but all you could think of was his brother.”

Okay, so I was starting to not enjoy this either. I could feel my cheeks start burning up, as if the colour that had drained from Clyde was now creeping up my cheeks. I knew my parents were very aware of my crush on Jimmy, I had been teased for years, and I really didn’t want that brought back.

“Yeah, I’m guilty as charged. Anyway…” I tried shifting the conversation to something else, before she said something really embarrassing. I wished I had told her up front about me and Clyde, so he couldn’t hide in his corner, but I just couldn’t find a way to wiggle that into the conversation. I figured that after she’d finished talking about the trip I’d have time to break the news to her. And now it was too late.

“Did you know,” she continued, and I was actually considering ‘accidentally’ breaking the connection, “he tried to ask you out to prom?”

“Really?” Well this was something I didn’t know, but Clyde seemed to remember, because I’d never seen someone go so fast from paper white to radioactive red. “I did not know that.”

“Yeah, he came to our door all dressed up in a suit and tie. He even had this tiny bouquet of garden flowers.”

Clyde wasn’t even looking at me at this point, probably wishing he was anywhere else but here. On the other hand, I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him in a suit, with a bouquet of freshly picked flowers, trying to ask me out. I was certain he would have been just as awkward, if not more. I couldn’t imagine him as a teenager, though. Something about his imposing stature made it hard for me to picture him as a kid. I made a mental note to ask Mellie if she had any photos.

“Why didn’t I hear about this?” I asked, still looking at Clyde over the monitor, smiling from ear to ear as he still stared at a point on the floor. “You didn’t chase him away, did you?” A cold shiver ran down my spine at the thought that maybe my parents had scared him off.

“No, no, we didn’t,” mom assured me. “He chickened out before ringing the bell.”

“Oh, did he?” I asked, and Clyde looked at me for half a second with the most pitiful look in his eyes, and it took all my restraint to not get up and hug the poor guy.

“Yeah. I think he stood in front of our door for a good ten minutes before turning around and leaving. You know, he costed me 20 dollars. I actually had faith that he’d eventually gather the courage to knock on the door. Your father didn’t. And he won.” Good ol’ dad and his cynicism. “If you see him, tell him that he made me lose 20 dollars and he better pay me back.”

I tried. I really did try to do the right thing, but there was no way I could fight the little devil on my shoulder. I should have apologized in advance. I sighed.

“Well, why don’t you tell him yourself,” I said, turning the laptop around so that now Clyde was in front of the camera.

I honestly thought for a second he’d just get up and run away, or explode in a cloud of confetti, dissolve into thin air or anything really, so that he didn’t have to be here. He was looking at me with a startled expression, and I very felt sorry for putting him into that position, but as I said, sometimes the devil was too hard to resist. However, it only took him a few moments to regain enough composure to be able to speak.

“Hello Mrs. M,” he greeted my mom in a small voice, still glancing nervously at me.

“Oh, hello Clyde. Didn’t know you were there,” she said. “It would have been helpful if my daughter would have let me know from the beginning.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. M,” he said, apologetically.

“Hey,” I said, coming around the table and moving the laptop so that my mom could see us both. “Don’t apologize for things that aren’t your fault,” I told him, and sat on his lap. He still felt incredibly stiff, so I took his hand in mine and squeezed it reassuringly. He placed the prosthetic one around my waist, but then hid it back under the table when he realized my mom could see it. “I would have, mom,” I said, making her shift focus back to me,—although by the way her eyes lingered, she had noticed his arm—“but I couldn’t interrupt the retelling of that appalling horse joke you were telling earlier.”

“Oh shut up,” my mom mumbled, clearly disappointed that I didn’t appreciate her humour, but then she looked at Clyde and I could see her expression soften as she smiled. “So, Clyde Logan, did you finally gather the courage to ask my daughter out?”

Clyde was still a little tongue tied, so I replied instead. “He didn’t really,” I said. “I asked him out.” And he rejected me at first, but I wasn’t going to tell her that, especially when I could feel him hiding his face in my hair. “Took a little persuasion, though. I think your signature recipe convinced him in the end.”

My mom burst into a hearty laugh. “That’s what sealed the deal with your father too. He proposed right after dinner.”

“Somehow, I actually expected an even less romantic gesture from dad,” I laughed and even Clyde snickered. He seemed to relax a bit, seeing that my mom didn’t have anything against him.

“Do you have big plans for today?” she asked, looking at her watch. I guessed she was a really busy pensioner.

“Actually, we do. I wanted to repaint my living room and Clyde offered to help. Big date painting walls,” I said, leaning into his chest.

My mom scoffed. “I guess you inherited the sentimental side from your father. He’d consider that an amazing date.”

“Come on, be proud of me. I’m actually using one of my free days to do adult stuff. I could have been sleeping, it’s the first day of holiday after all.”

My mom took a moment to consider my statement, and then she nodded, as she knew productivity wasn’t really my forte. “Very well. But please don’t overwork the kid.”

“Does he look overworked to you?” I said, pointing at Clyde’s nose over my shoulder.

“He does look a bit tired.”

I glanced over at Clyde, who seemed to have regained most of his composure. He did look a little tired though, but I knew he’d look substantially more alive once he finished breakfast and had enough coffee in his system.

“He works until late,” I explained. “He’s a bartender in town.”

“Did you take over your father’s business?” my mom asked him, her interest peaked once again.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he replied, straightening his back. I guess he still found my mother scary, even after all these years. (Truth be told, she could be really scary if she wanted to.)

“That’s wonderful, I really loved that bar. So many great memories started with drinks at the Duck Tape,” she said, a little nostalgic.

“Well, Ma’am, you’re always welcome. We’re still serving the best beer in town.”

It really made me smile just how proud he was of his little business, and I could see why. Over the past few weeks I had become so fond of the bar and the people coming there, although the one I liked best was still the handsome bartender.

“Just make sure to not come back home drunk,” I warned her, “cause I’m locking the door and leaving both you and dad to sleep outside. And don’t make me pick up your tab either, I may have a discount now, but I’m not wasting it on you guys.”

“Have you seen a more ungrateful child, Clyde?” she asked shaking her head, and I could tell that Clyde was making an effort not to laugh. “Is this why I broke my back working my whole life to give her an education and a future, and she won’t even consider taking care of me when I’m shitfaced drunk,” she said, starting to laugh in the middle of the sentence. “Alright, I’ll leave you kids alone, it seems you’ve got quite a busy schedule today.”

“Okay mom,” I said, still laughing. “ll text you and send pictures of the finished project.”

“I have a feeling I’ll get a ‘how to get paint out of hair’ text soon.”

“Haha!”

“And take good care of my daughter, Clyde,” she said, with a very soft expression on her face. “She can be a bit of a handful at times, but she’s worth the hassle.”

“I’m really glad you’ve never written an online dating ad for me, mom, or I would have been Forever Alone.” I mumbled, just loud enough for Clyde to hear it, but not enough for mom to make out the words. Clyde was making a valiant effort to keep a straight face, but I could see the cracks in his composure. My mom, on the other hand, told me not to mumble.

“Okay, okay, I’m leaving you alone,” she said fiddling with the mouse. “I’m going to try to get those twenty bucks back from your dad, ten years too late, but better late than never I say…” And then the connection broke.

“I think she hung up on us,” I said, both Clyde and I letting out a long sigh of relief. “I’m sorry for putting you through this without prior warning,” I said, pulling him into a kiss, feeling a bit guilty for what I’d done. In the end it wasn’t that bad, but it might have still been unpleasant.

“It’s okay,” he said taking my legs and rotating me a little so that I was now cradled in his arms. “You just took the band aid approach with this.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, still kissing him, until my phone started to ring. “Yeah mom, you hung up on us,” I said into the phone. Let me put you on speaker.”

“Well, I don’t know what happened, I didn’t touch anything. It must have been the connection.”

“Probably,” I said, knowing there was no point in contradicting her. I was 100% sure she pressed the wrong button.

“Take care of yourselves, and hopefully we’ll see you soon. We were thinking about paying you a visit before the holiday ends, your dad’s been worried about you moving into the old house, although he’d never admit it.”

I smiled and rested my head on Clyde’s shoulder. Dad wasn’t really good with showing affection, so little things like this proved how much he actually cared. “We’ll be waiting for you, hopefully by then I’ll be able to furnish the guest room too.”

“Do you need money? Should we send you some?”

“I’m good,” I lied, since money was still a bit of a problem for me, but not wanting to abuse their kindness any longer. I was going to do some tutoring over the summer, so I hoped I could save some money to be able to furnish at least a part of the house.

“Let us know if you need anything.”

“Your love and support is enough,” I said. “Also, some of your strawberry jam. And assorted pickles. Actually I’ll make a list.” My mom laughed, but I knew the moment she’d hung up she’ll start putting together a huge package with my favourite things. She’d even bake me cookies, even though she knew I was perfectly capable of baking my own.

“Very well then. Don’t forget to send me pictures of the newly painted living room. And of your painted faces.”

“Will do. Bye mom.”

“Goodbye, Mrs. M,”

“It was really nice seeing you again, Clyde. I hope you’ll stick around, or my daughter will remain un...”

“Mom! Goodbye!”

“Goodbye love!” she laughed as she hung up.

I put the phone down and exhaled audibly. Clyde was laughing his ass off, still holding onto me as I felt I was turning into slime and just melting into a puddle on the floor.

“I deserve it,” I said, straightening myself and hiding my face in Clyde’s hair. “I can’t say anything because I deserve it.” Clyde was still laughing, but somehow that was reassuring. “She really likes you, you know?”

“Do you think so?” There was still a note of uncertainty in his voice, but right now he sounded more hopeful.

“Haven’t you seen her, she was glowing,” I said, kissing his neck. “Expect her to send a ton of preserves especially for you.”

“Will you make me pancakes with strawberry jam?”

“Of course. Actually, I could make pancakes now, do you want some?”

“Yeah, sure.”

I kissed him and got up, getting out all the needed ingredients. I started making the batter as Clyde was telling me funny stories from our childhood. The atmosphere in my kitchen was so warm and lovely ever since we’d started dating and even now, despite the rain outside, it felt so bright and cozy.

“Now I really wanna see you in a suit and tie, bringing me flowers,” I said, placing the plate of pancakes on the table, as well as different toppings.

“I think it’s better if you don’t,” he said, looking at the pancakes, and avoiding my gaze, but I could still see him blush. I guess he never expected that someone had seen him trying to ask me out. I was wondering how much Jimmy had teased him for it, or if Clyde had done it without anyone knowing. I wondered if he’d been sad when he went home that day, but I tried to shake the thought away. It had been a long time ago, things were different now.

“Why not?”

“They always looked ridiculous on me,” he said and I could feel the bitterness.

“I think you’d look amazing in a suit, you’d just need a decent tailor to make some small tweaks. No suit looks good right off the hanger.”

“You think so?” he said, looking at me with hopeful eyes.

“I’m certain. But you’ll also have to pick me a bouquet of flowers and finally ask me to prom.”

He laughed and blushed even more, looking away. “Well, we could go somewhere fancy if you’d like,” he finally said, digging into the pancakes.

“Only if you want to. We could dress up and binge watch Netflix on my couch for all I cared,” I said, wondering if I could shove a whole pancake down my throat. “I just wanna see you in a suit.”

“Well, I don’t have a suit,” he said, after a few minutes of eating in silence, “but I still have my uniform.”

I dropped my fork. Somehow the idea that he’d have a uniform never crossed my mind, although I knew he had been in the military and he’d been honorably discharged. Now the image of Clyde dressed in a uniform would never leave my mind.

“This is actually so much better,” I said, pressing my palms to my cheeks as I knew I was blushing, but not of embarrassment.

“Really?” He laughed in disbelief.

“Oh yeah. So much better,” I said, picking up my fork and furiously shoving half a pancake in my mouth, trying hard not to choke and die before I got to see Clyde Logan dressed in his military uniform.

It was past noon when we finally finished eating, drinking coffee and just being lost in each other’s eyes, and decided it was time to get to work. Clyde changed in a pair of old overalls that looked so cute on him. I just changed into some old clothes that I didn't like anymore, and Clyde insisted that I at least wear his trucker hat as a protection for my hair. I looked ridiculous, but he assured me I looked great, and by the lovingly way he looked at me, I believed him.

“So, Mister Logan, are you ready to start?” I asked, following him as be brought the needed utensils from his truck, prompting him to turn around and smack me over the face with a roller.

“I’m so sorry, Baby,” he said, dropping everything and taking my face into his hand, examining the damage.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t paying attention where I was walking and I was in your blind spot. A kiss will make it better though,” I said and he happily obliged, kissing my cheek multiple times, his facial hair tickling my skin. “Also, it’s the first you’ve called me Baby.”

“I’m sorry,”

“Don’t be, I love it when you say it.”

“My Baby,” he whispered in my ear, and I melted right then and there.

“Right, let’s get started,” I said, shaking my head to regain composure. “Before this turns into something else and we wrapped the whole floor in plastic for nothing.”

Clyde laughed, and opened a bucket of paint while I grabbed a roller and held it like a spear.

I never knew what coming back to my West Virginia hometown would bring, I actually felt pretty defeated when I came back. I’d felt like I had wasted all those years working my ass off for nothing and in the end I still failed. Returning was a sign I was giving up, that I wasn’t good enough to fulfill my dreams.

But in the end, maybe it wasn’t like that, or it didn’t have to be. Maybe it was just a new beginning, a new starting point. It was time to really think about what I wanted from this life, and cherish the good things and even if in the future I’d fail again, I had to remember that failing at something wasn’t the end, unless you completely gave up.

I ran my fingers through Clyde’s hair as he was mixing the paint.

“What?” he asked, turning his head to look up at me.

“Nothing,” I said, smiling broadly. “I’m just happy.”

Masterlist

Previous Part

#clyde logan #clyde logan x reader #clyde logan fanfiction #clyde logan x oc #logan lucky

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thejokervaleska · 8 years ago

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2. the thrill of the chase

Pairing: The Joker (Ledger) x Reader Rating: T Words: 1572 Requested by: @nicolesyneah25

PART ONE / PART THREE / PART FOUR

And the thrill of the chase moves in mysterious ways So in case I’m mistaken I just wanna hear you say you got me baby Are you mine?

A few uneventful days passed as you tried to adjust to the Joker’s strange way of life. You didn’t consider yourself to be a creature of habit by any means but you were accustomed to a certain routine that included simple things like sleeping and eating, neither of which he did with any sort of regularity.

His days were spent plotting and pacing, occasionally stopping to scribble something on a map or an old newspaper. His nights were more of the same, only the location changed. While the clowns slept, he paced the length of his bedroom and muttered to himself as you watched from behind the paperback books you found scattered under the piles of his clothing. The pages were folded and torn, the margins covered in his spidery handwriting. It all seemed like gibberish at first but the more time you spent with him, the more sense everything made. You weren’t sure what that meant but the thought was somewhat disturbing.

In all honesty, you’d expected the Joker to get rid of you quickly, one way or the other, since you didn’t serve any real purpose in his little organization. But to your surprise, he seemed to accept your presence as if you’d always been there. As long as you stayed out of his way, he treated you with the same sort of tolerance (and vague fondness) one might treat a dog they never intended to own. He mostly ignored you but indulged in petting your hair at night when he was trying to slow down long enough to get his customary one or two hours of sleep.

Something that didn’t surprise you was the fact that no one was looking for you. You watched the evening news alongside the henchmen every night but your name was never once mentioned. Perhaps that was why the Joker didn’t see any problem with leaving you alone at the hideout while he went out and terrorized the city. Though you tried to keep the act up, somehow he knew you weren’t going anywhere.

When he left early one morning without his paint, you knew exactly where he was going. Sure enough, a few hours later, GCN cut into the dumb game show you were watching with breaking news about a shooting at Commissioner Loeb’s funeral.

Caught up in the coverage, listening for any mentions of him, you nearly jumped out of your skin when the door flew open and crashed into the wall. The Joker stomped into the room, clutching a bloodied t-shirt to his shoulder, and glowered at you as he passed as if this was somehow your fault.

He disappeared into his bedroom as some of the other clowns meandered in, looking a little worse for wear in their presumably stolen police uniforms. One of them, a tall guy with dark skin and tight dreadlocks who you thought was called James, frowned when he saw you still sitting on the couch.

“Aren’t you gonna go help the boss?” he asked as he heaved a red-stained duffel bag onto the kitchen table.

“Why should I?” you asked him, baffled by the question. “I’m not a nurse.”

“Yeah, but you’re a woman,” he said as if that explained it perfectly.

“So?”

“So, I’m sure he’d rather have you in there feeling him up instead of one of us.”

You rolled your eyes at his reasoning but climbed to your feet anyway, muttering under your breath as you started down the hall. “Whatever. It’s not like I’m a hostage here or anything. Let me just go take care of my kidnapper.”

It was a good try but no one seemed convinced by the act anymore, least of all you.

You found him standing shirtless in the small bathroom, eyeing his wound in the mirror. His hair was tied back in a little knot at the back of his skull and his face was still clean, if not a bit stained from the greasepaint.

Seeing him half-naked, you realized he was much thinner than you’d originally thought though his shoulders were broad and his arms looked strong. Catching yourself staring, you cleared your throat and stepped into the room behind him.

“What happened?” you asked, trying to get a better look at the source of all the blood – a fairly deep gash on his shoulder.

His eyes snapped to yours in the mirror and then away again as he muttered childishly, “Nothing.”

“Well, clearly something happened since you’re bleeding everywhere.” Resigned to your fate and not minding the close proximity nearly as much as you should have, you leaned past him and snagged a clean towel off the counter. “Come on. Sit down.”

He was surprisingly compliant as you closed the lid on the toilet seat and pushed him to sit down on it. As you ran the towel under the faucet, getting it good and soaked, you could feel his eyes on your face. He was studying you like a scientist looking at a slide under a microscope, sort of like he’d only just realized you were there.

As you started to wipe away the blood around the wound, you laid your hand on his shoulder and found that his bare skin was searing hot.

Frowning, you stopped what you were doing and flattened your palm on his forehead without a second thought. “Wait, do you have a fever?”

Looking at you like you were crazy, he batted your hand away. “No.”

“You feel like you do,” you muttered as you went back to cleaning away the blood. “Oh well, die from an infection then. See if I care.”

He just grunted in reply and, taking the hint, you stayed quiet as you finished patching him up. You didn’t have much to work with in the small, grimy bathroom but you did your best with the limited supplies you had available.

“There you go,” you told him, smoothing the makeshift bandage down at the edges before you stepped back to admire your work. “You could probably use a few stitches but since I don’t know how to do that, this’ll have to do. Just be careful and let it heal for a while.”

He stood up to examine it in the mirror, poking at the bandage curiously. He didn’t thank you but that was okay – you didn’t really expect him to.

But as you turned to go, he caught you by the wrist and yanked you backwards. The movement caused you stumble into him and you reached up to steady yourself with a hand on his chest. For a moment, you thought he was going to strangle you or hit you or something but then his eyes darted down to your mouth and you realized, holy shit, he wants to kiss me.

You tilted your head back to look up at him, parting your lips for a kiss that didn’t come. As the seconds ticked by, the two of you just stood there, much too close together to pretend it was just something casual. Your heart was pounding against your ribs as you suddenly realized how badly you wanted this.

Since he didn’t seem inclined to hurt you or close the deal, you let out an annoyed little huff and grabbed him by the back of his neck, dragging his face down so you could fit your mouth against his.

It felt like grabbing hold of a live wire. Unsure if you would ever get another chance, you decided to take full advantage of the moment and laid your hand against his cheek. Under your palm you could feel the strange, gnarled flesh that made up his scars and beyond it, normal skin that was in need of shaving.

He wasn’t responding but he wasn’t pushing you away either so you soldiered on, trying not to let it bother you. When you caught his bottom lip between your teeth, you heard him hum low in his throat. There we go, you thought, just as he grabbed you by the hips and turned, forcing you against the sink until the edge bit into your lower back. From then on, he was in control and you were more than happy to hand over the reins.

He wrapped his arms around you so tight it hurt, leaving little doubt in your mind that you were trapped there for as long as he wanted you to be. And that was perfectly okay with you. In that moment, there was no place you’d rather be. Since he seemed to like a little pain, you bit down on his lip again, maybe a little too hard, and smiled as you felt him shudder against you.

Once he relaxed into it, he was a shockingly good kisser. You felt weak in the knees as his tongue moved against yours, tracing your teeth, and the heat from his body seeped into your bones.

And then, of course, there was a hesitant knock on the bedroom door. The Joker lifted his head to listen but kept his arms around you.

“Boss?” a voice called out from the hallway. “Phone call for you. I think it’s the Chechen.”

At that, he released you and the two of you exchanged a brief, unsettled look before he stomped off to take the call. Slumping back against the sink, you touched your still-tingling lips and wondered if you really were losing your mind.

#the joker x reader #the joker x you #ledger joker x reader #ledger joker x you #ledger joker #the dark knight fic #rating: t #story: stop the world

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strawberista · 2 years ago

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Hanekoma raised a brow at him, somehow unfazed by his reaction. "You almost sound offended that I would suggest you feel remorse for your actions. You know that isn't a bad thing, right? Feeling guilty when you hurt someone, that's not a bad thing at all. And no. I haven't gotten rid of a single thing you've given me. I still care about you, so I keep those things close to me. I just hate that we can't see eye to eye on anything."

He took a deep breath, held it for a moment before releasing again.

"You say you wanna get to know me. But you only ever seemed to want to do that like pinning me under a microscope. Like you wanted to study this weird little creature you found. But that just doesn't feel personal or emotional to me. Those things are things I need for a relationship. That's how I've always worked. I don't wanna be someone's specimen to study. I want to be someone's friend, family. I have to have an emotional connection for my relationships to feel substantial. That's just my needs as a person. I know you can't do or feel anything that, hah, well you can't. You're not built the same way I am. But I would really appreciate it if ya at least tried to meet me in the middle."

"I meant before that. And here I was, assuming it was obvious. Especially since we haven't spoken since...What? A while ago?"

"But I'll play along. I do want to get to know you. Or - did. I never put that boundary down. The only boundary I put down was for you to not make Physical Contact with me. Just because I do not wish to get close to you, that does not equate to me not wanting to get to know you. I had once asked quite a lot of Questions, and that's considered getting to know another. Right?"

Yet, he eventually sighed. He didn't fully expect Hanekoma to understand anymore, or perhaps he doesn't want him to try to understand anymore. But even still, he has more important stuff to focus on.

"I harmed Hope for a reason, which I soon realized was Falsified by my Thought Process. If I told you that False Reason, you'd probably argue with me on how I should have never believed that or - whatever. At least Hope understands, and honestly? I'm grateful for her. Though don't you dare say I have some Remorse in me. I do not feel that - I Apologized because it was the right thing to do. I was, for once, in the Wrong, so I had to Apologize."

He soon turned his back on Hanekoma, looking over the edge of the building. Unfazed and utterly relaxed as he observed.

"...Oh but that's the thing - I don't expect us to ever get along ever again. As it's to be expected, I assume. So I certainly hope you get rid of everything I have given you, if you haven't already, though I can only assume you have. I no longer want your Attention, for I will keep you at arm's length once more."

#busy dizzy and lazy ⤙ic⤚⚄#go over it or game over now? ⤙reply⤚⚄#is this a place to shine? ⤙post neo⤚⚄#oh much like a stranger to yourself — pureposer ⊸

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delicatefury · 8 years ago

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Oooooooo. As much as I love all of your Star Wars fics (especially TDPL and that Other one and even Hello Again which seems awesome) Cold Iron sounds absolutely amazing - you got anything you wanna share for that? Maybe some back story for Matthias (? Was it)

Backstory for Matthias! I love this character so much, you have no idea. But, oh boy, did you open a can of worms. Because I can’t describe Matthias without describing the world he lives in. So strap in, this is gonna be a long one.

World-building background first:

Along with the mortals, the world is a playground for no less than three other classification of beings. Cohabiting on the same plane as mortals (a part of nature, but not of nature the way humanity is) are the natural spirits. Both physical and not, this is where you’ll find beings like dwarves, naiads, dryads, thunderbirds, phoenixes, etc. Creatures that are tied to the physical world and nature in some concrete way (distinguish from unicorns, pixies, elves, etc.).

On a plane “Above” humanity are the Celestials. True immortals in every way, for many they represent “The Good”, “the Rightous”, “the Just”. Debates exist on all levels on how “godly” they are, and they are notoriously enigmatic about the “Great Truths”. Spoiler alert, they truly are The Big Good in this world. There’s really no need to beat around the bush on that one. None of that confusing comic book stuff where everything is a shade of grey.

“Below” humanity are the Infernals. Given what I’ve said about Celestials, it’s pretty easy to guess what these guys are.

To the “Side” of the mortal plane (immortal in that they do not grow old, yet capable of being destroyed) are the Fae. Strange and powerful, these beings reside primarily out of phase with the mortal world, connected to it, but apart from it. Their morality changes from court to court, though a few rules hold true throughout them all. Do not step into a fairy circle without protections. Be wary when bargaining with them, for what you think they mean and what they really mean can be worlds apart and can change from one breath to the next, so long as the words are still “true”. Do not accept food from them, it may trap you in their world or in a favor you cannot repay. Celestial touched places and items cause them harm (churches and consecrated graveyards and holy artifacts). Iron manipulated and ordered by humanity, is Cold, and crosses so far beyond the limits of freezing for them that it burns. And they do not see things in good or evil. It’s hard to define how they see things other than “mine” and “not yet mine” though it is certain that they do have some sort of rules or ethics that control their decisions.

Two more things to know:

1. While not taking place on an alternate-history earth, there are similarities. There’s an “old world” and a “new world”. There are some culture clashes. There are morally gray, no one is truly right, conflicts (aka, both sides have a point. But neither will give in). Humanity in general is in the middle of an industrial revolution, one that captures and uses steam, electricity, and the aether, that substance that makes up the fae and their realm and that filters into humanity and their world as well. The air is slowly being populated with vehicles of great size, ships of the sky, the land being crossed by mechanical behemoths. Unreachable places are now being explored and settled by all kinds. Central to this effort are the Mechaneers. Adventurous, brilliant, slightly mad, Mechaneers create and maintain the new technology that is redefining the world. It’s a broad term that encompasses professors in their universities, small-town garage owners, and even explorers who specialize in studying and reviving the leftover creations from the last time humanity dared become a threat to the fae.

2. The Champions - “Champions aren’t chosen, Champions choose.” Agents of the Celestials, Champions are (usually) heroic adventurers who travel the world defending the mortal world from the machinations and attempts of control by those of the other planes. They also tend to clash with mortal megalomaniacs and would be conquerers as well. While their actions can often put them in conflict with various fae courts, their actual job is to prevent Infernal access to the mortal plane, and as such, can often be found making alliances with just as many fae courts as the ones they piss off. There is no “right” way to be a Champion, and no particular “Type.” They tend to be grouped into “lineages” with a new champion, whether inadvertently or purposefully, taking over the cause a prior champion left incomplete.

Got it? Probably not. Moving on anyway.

Okay. So Prince Lucius (our hero, believe it or not) is the youngest son of the Summer Court’s King and Queen (or Seelie Court, maybe Titania and Oberon, maybe not). His two elder brothers are away from court. The eldest on a journey of his own to visit other fae courts, the second is temporarily exiled. Labelled “The Clever” of the brothers, Lucius is brilliant, bored, and spoiled. With his brothers gone, there’s no one to challenge him or to be dazzled by his brilliance.

So he is eager when given the chance to represent the Court and to fulfill his father’s end of a bargain made to a Champion. Said Champion, Christophe “Kip” Burke, was on the trail of some nefarious scheming by court-less fae. Said fae responded by attacking him with hellish, bloodthirsty creatures. Kip was able to make it to the border of territory falling under the Summer Court’s control, but barely. Once he does, Lucius fulfills the words of the oath, but no more.

He’s bored. Perhaps arguing, defending his choice to do the bare minimum to the Court could relieve some of that. He’ll win, of course, but it will pass the time. As such, the attackers are repelled; no harm comes to Kip on the Court’s lands. He’s safe as long as he stays there.

But Kip’s still bleeding.

He’s still dying.

He dies.

A Champion does not walk alone. They are often given an advisor, an interceder, an angel, though they do not monopolize the angel’s time. Kip’s angel, Kyriel, a Power, also watches over nations. Kyriel arrives too late.

And here is where Lucius gets in trouble. His clever little fast one over the Champion would have allowed him to get away with toying with the mortal’s life scott-free. It’s true, he was under no obligation to do any more than stop additional harm. There was nothing in the oath requiring him to save Kip’s life. He would have gotten away with it. Except for one… little… problem. The oath wasn’t made to Kip. It was brokered by Kyriel. And Celestials and Infernals are the only things powerful enough to bind Fae to the meaning of an agreement and not just the words. And the intent and meaning of the oath was to keep Kip alive.

Lucius broke the Summer Court’s oath. Lucius shall pay the price. The Summer Court will accept Kyriel’s judgment. Life for a life is his right, and the breaking of the oath allows the Celestial to directly interfere on the middle planes. And he’s about to act, judge, jury, executioner, when an act of mercy intervenes.

Kip had unfinished business. And was taken before his time. That also creates a little loophole. Essentially, visitation rights. The higher planes (heaven and hell) allow for greater insight, foresight, and foreknowledge. And maybe some good can come from all of this pain. Kip himself, with the go-ahead from above, interferes.

The former-Champion doesn’t want to punish Lucius. There’s potential there, in the boredom, in the cleverness. There’s something there that Kip thinks could become something Great. So instead, he gives Lucius a gift. Something tiny, and near insignificant, the size of a mustard seed. Kip blesses (or curses) the Fae Prince with an itty-bitty-tiny-microscopic piece of his own soul.

The results are immediate and catastrophic.

Souls are celestial things. Celestial things and aether (basic-fae-building-block) do not mix. They only reason they do for humanity is that the physical makes a barrier and humans have iron in their blood. No truly physical, mortal body? Lucius starts burning from the inside out.

Well, time for another Celestial intervention. Kyriel crafts a miracle, so that Kip’s gift has a chance to work. When the smoke and lights and Light clear…

We are left with a small, technically mortal, changeling child.

More?

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