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merakiaes · 4 years ago

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The One For Me - Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Requested: By @nuvoleincielo

Prompts: #16, #30 and #63 from the fluff-list.

Warnings/notes: This is my first time writing for Hotch and Criminal Minds in general so please be patient while I get used to these new characters, might be slight OOC😭 It’s also the first piece I’ve written in a few months now and I’m a bit rusty, so please let me know what you think. Not proofread so I apologize in advance for any possible mistakes. Send in more requests for Hotch, Reid and Morgan and let me know if you want to be added to the Criminal Minds taglist! I hope you like it💕

Wordcount: 4118

Summary: Hotch has doubts about letting your relationship go further and you reassure him that he’s what you want.

After being raised in one of New York’s worst, most crime ridden and low poverty neighborhoods by a family who was constantly targeted by the law enforcement, the last thing you’d expect was that you would become an active worker of said law enforcement.

Your mother died ten minutes after giving birth to you and your father had never been a part of the equation, most likely having ran the second he found out your mother had gotten pregnant. With no other immediate family, you ended up in the system, where you were stuck for the first seven years of your life.

You jumped back and forth between families of all kinds but for reasons unknown, no one wanted to keep you. It wasn’t until a couple adopted you two days before your eight birthday that you finally felt like you belonged.

They had many children of their own as well as more foster children, all between the ages of ten and twenty-five at the time of your adoption. On top of that, the children had children of their own and aunts, uncles, cousins and friends stayed with you more often than not as they struggled to hold on to homes of their own.

It wasn’t the most ideal way to live, a dozen people staying under the same roof of a two bedroom house, but you had dinner on the table every evening and the love for family was strong, so despite the conditions you lived in and the struggles you were forced to face on a daily basis, you guessed you couldn’t complain; you’d had it better than most.

The people who lived in those parts were always getting pinned for various kinds of crimes, just so the police could get it out of their hands and go on about their lives.

The male members of your family and the company they kept were some of the biggest targets even though they rarely did anything wrong, but despite the injustices they faced every day, they remained respectful when staring in the face of a cop.

You, on the other hand, despised them. You were an outspoken little girl, too feisty for your own good and on more occasions than one, you’d ended up pissing off some rich kid in school for which your dad and uncles were forced to pay the price.

You’d always hated the injustice the less fortunate suffered every day, but it wasn’t until you witnessed your first murder at fifteen that your interest of making the world a better place really piqued.

The victim had been one of the boys living in your neighborhood. He was two years older than you and he always gave it his all to make something out of himself. He walked with you and your younger brothers and cousins to school every day to make sure you got there safely, studied hard, kept out of trouble and always remained respectful.

The only reason he died was because his skin was the wrong color in the eyes of the law and because he was born into a less fortunate neighborhood, and it was then your eyes truly opened to the police brutality and misuse of power plaguing your country.

You joined the police force when you were nineteen years old and you stayed there, on top of your game and determined to do it better than the bad ones, until you were twenty-one.

At that point, most of your family had passed away either out of old age, or simply from being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and your determination to help people was stronger than ever.

But even you, the tough little firecracker as your uncles had always called you, could only tolerate so much.

After two years on the force, you got tired of being undermined by your male co-workers and set out to step up your game, taking up studies of criminology and psychology among several other subjects.

You studied your ass off and was just barely able to get by with the money you had saved up over the years, and at twenty-four, you finally had your degrees and clearance to begin working in higher places.

Starting off in New York, you stayed there for six months before you were transferred to Quantico, Virginia, where you were recruited by the one and only Jason Gideon who had heard word of your talent in the field.

You had worked with the team for little over a year now and Jason, who had always acted as a kind of mentor and father figure for you, was gone, having left only a letter for you and Spencer each.

Taking his place was Aaron Hotchner, a fellow agent to which you hadn’t paid much personal attention before the departure of Gideon. But things changed when he left, a lot of things.

Hotch was fresh out of his divorce, moodier than ever and in a really bad mental state. He stayed in his office until the late hours of the night, sometimes even the early hours of the next morning, barely slept and often forgot to eat if he wasn’t reminded by his team members.

Everyone urged him to take some time off, to go home and get some sleep and to take care of himself, and although he always told them that he would, he never followed through.

Up until then, you still hadn’t spoken much with him except for when you were working on a case. You were just an agent and he was just your boss, there was nothing else to it. But you couldn’t just sit by and watch as he neglected himself, so you followed your team-mates’ example and approached him.

He dismissed you at first, like he had done everyone else who had tried to offer him their support. But as time passed by, in some miraculous way, you made him laugh, and as you continued your attempts on offering him your ear to listen, he opened up to you, and you grew to become more than just colleagues.

Your first and only date had been on your initiative. You invited him to dinner at your house during your weekend off, to which he agreed.

You cooked together and although it started off as kind of awkward – more from his side than yours – you ended up kissing later that night after having had a bit too much to drink, and fell asleep together on your couch while you were flicking through your childhood photo albums.

The next morning, he was gone. You had always been an extremely light sleeper so you found it strange that he had managed to slip off without alerting you and also having managed to wrap you up in a blanket before he left.

He didn’t leave without a word though. A note was neatly placed on the coffee table in front of you, on which he explained that he needed to pick up Jack and that he didn’t want to wake you, finishing it off with a thank you for the night before.

That was the first and last time you spent time together, just the two of you, but it wasn’t like it was intentional.

You wanted to do it again, to continue exploring the budding romance between the two of you and to see where you could take it, and although you knew nothing of his feelings, he wanted the same thing.

But work got very stressful; stressful to the point where you could never find a moment to talk to each other if it wasn’t in the presence of the entire team. But the spark between you wasn’t gone.

It was still there in the way he would let his hand hover above the small of your back when you were walking side by side and step in front of you if you were ever in danger, and in the way you would always take a second to ask how he and Jack was doing, if they were eating enough and getting enough sleep, whenever you were heading somewhere; no matter if the team was with you.

It was there in the way he would always encourage you to go on the less dangerous tasks while he took the ones that were more life-threatening and in the way he would always smile, the slightest of smiles, whenever you were exchanging jokes or sarcastic remarks with Morgan, or messing around with poor, clueless Reid.

It was there, but it was unspoken. At least until now.

The case you had been working on for the past two days was that of Gilbert Stratton; a serial killer who had targeted young women, killed them, drained them of their blood, and then proceeded to hang the bodies up by their feet in trees all around the city.

You had caught him just in time to save the last kidnapped girl and you had originally been the one assigned to question him, but Hotch had stepped in last minute after the man had made a crude comment about how ‘girls like you always tasted the best’.

You had attempted to tell him that you could take it, but before you had even been given a chance to state your case, he had shut the door in your face and you had been whisked off by JJ.

You were the one out of the entire team who was the most interested in the psychology of a serial killer so you really wanted to be the one to interview Stratton, but you knew that Hotch had taken over for the sake of your safety and not because he underestimated you, so you couldn’t even bring yourself to be mad.

While he did his job, you settled at your desk with a sigh, getting to work on the heft stack of paperwork that had been building up throughout the week.

The first ten minutes you kept close track of the clock next to you, wondering why it was taking so long, but the more time that passed, the more focused you became.

Soon enough, you only had a few reports left and you had completely lost track of time, when there was a sudden bang behind you, sounding an awful lot like a door slamming shut.

And your suspicions were proven correct, when you looked up to see Hotch march straight the bullpen.

The corners of your lips tugged up at the sight of him, but the arising smile quickly fell again when he walked right past you, without even an acknowledging glance, heading into his office and shutting himself inside without as much of a word to anyone.

Left behind with dumbstruck looks on their faces were the team, glances of bewilderment being exchanged.

“What happened?” Reid asked the question you were all thinking after a moment of silence, just as Emily walked in from the interrogation room.

Rather than answering Reid’s question, she looked right at you, offering you a small, comforting smile. “I think you better go talk to him.” She said simply, and as confusion and anxiety bubbled up inside of you, you slowly drawled.

“Okaaay…”

They all watched you as you stood up from your seat, brushing down your shirt and turning off the lamp at your desk before heading for the stairs.

You could feel their eyes following your every move and you would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous of what you were about to walk into.

Everyone had gotten negatively affected by a case or unsub at some point during their career, most more than once. They were all very good at getting into your head, no matter how little you wanted to admit it. But you had never seen Hotch react this strongly to anything before. The only time you had really seen him snap was during one single case, right after Haley had filed for a divorce.

Still, you kept walking until you reached his closed office door, stopping only then to peek inside the blinded windows to see him sitting at his desk, hands rubbing over his face.

You knocked on the glass gently and in any other case he would have looked up and meet your gaze, but when his head kept hanging this time, you let yourself in, only when closing the door behind you cutting off the curious eyes of the others.

Once you were inside, you wasted no time in approaching Hotch where he sat by his desk, analyzing his every move which led you to only one question.

What the hell had Stratton said to him to make him this distraught?

He didn’t even look up as you reached him, keeping his eyes closed as you came to a stop beside his desk.

Treading carefully, you reached out and gently put your hand on his shoulder.

“What happened?” You asked softly, the sound of your words instantly bringing a long, heavy sigh out of his nose.

“Why are you doing this?” He wasted no time in replying, causing a crease to form between your eyebrows.

“What?” You asked back, confusion lacing your voice.

Finally, he brought his hands down from his face and slowly spun around in his chair, forcing you to drop your hand from his shoulder and to take a step back.

He stared up at you, face wiped free of emotion as always. But the eyes said it all.

“Why are you so adamant on being with me? Why do you try so hard?” He questioned you, taking you by surprise.

Your eyebrows shot up and your eyes grew slightly wider, and you took a moment to regain your composure after the, to say the least, unexpected question.

“What kind of question is that?” You asked once you finally regained your senses. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when you want to be with someone? Try?”

One of your eyebrows sank again, leaving only one raised in question.

Hotch’s face softened slightly and for a moment, he averted his eyes, letting out another, smaller sigh from his nose before looking back up to meet your eyes once again.

“What I mean is, why do you want to be with me?” He asked again, clarifying and slightly shaking his head in what seemed to be disbelief. “The second you walked into this office, both Morgan and Reid had their eyes on you, and they still do. They’re closer to your age, they’re energetic, humorous, full of life, while I’m ten years your senior, and can’t offer you what they can. So why do you want to be with me, when you can have them, or anyone you want?”

“What is it that they can give me that you can’t?” You didn’t waste a second in firing back.

You had no idea what had brought this on, but it was clear that it was bothering him and quite frankly, you found it ridiculous even though you didn’t like making it a habit to judge other people for what they were feeling.

“They can make you smile-“ He started explaining, and you instantly cut him off.

“You make me smile, all the time.” You shook your head, but your affirmation only seemed to fuel his frustrations even more as he was up on his feet within the next second.

“But I’m not- I’m not fun.” He stated, staring you down. “My clock is ticking. I’m ill-tempered, irritable, too serious for my own good. I’m barely capable of taking care of myself at this point much less my son. I’m miserable and I’m a bully, who only cares about this job. Why would you want to be with someone like that?”

“Where is this coming from? I thought we had something good going.” Your face fell slightly, and you carefully reached your hands out to grab a hold of the front of his suit, taking a small step closer.

“Is this because of Stratton? Is he the one putting these doubts into your head?” You asked, keeping your eyes on your hands for a short moment before looking up to meet his heavy gaze staring down at you.

And once your eyes met his, he knew there was no point in lying; you were a profiler after all, and a good one at that.

“He did.” He confessed calmly, his lips pursing into a straight line.

“Aaron…” You began, the softness of your voice matching the one in your eyes.

“But everything he said is true.” He quietly interrupted you. “I’m not fun to be around, I push people away. That’s what I do, what I’ve always done.” His eyebrows rose and he stood still.

You knew about the doubts he had about himself. You know he felt inadequate as a friend, as a colleague, as a father, and more than anything as a partner after the way Haley had left him. You were aware of all of it, and yet the sound of those self-doubts being voiced aloud saddened you nonetheless.

Silence fell over the two of you for a moment as you took another step closer, flattening your palms out on his chest and your eyes never leaving his.

“Those people didn’t deserve you in the first place. They knew what they were getting themselves into when they started building a relationship with you, whether it be a romantical or purely platonic one. They knew how passionate you are about your job, how much you value it. Them leaving… That’s on them, not you.” You said softly, shaking your head. “I’m not about to give up on you, on us, just because you happen to be a few years older than me. Derek, he wants to have fun, to be young. He may be attracted to me but he doesn’t want anything serious. Spencer isn’t ready for a relationship either, for obvious reasons, and either way, they’re not the ones I want.”

He watched you intensely as you spoke, lips still tight and strained. “What is it that you want?” He asked you, and you wasted no time in replying.

“Something serious and stable, someone who’s ready to settle down, and for me, the best chance to get that is through you.” You smiled, breaking your eyes away from his to follow your hand as you moved it up to his face. “Regardless of what other people say, you’re an amazing person. You’re passionate, driven, kind, loyal, gentle, and so much more. Despite what you may think, you do have a sense of humor and you’re the only one who can make me smile until my cheeks hurt. If that’s not a good man, a good person, then I don’t know what is. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”

By the time you finished, the remaining doubt was wiped free from his face, a small, gentle smile instead having taken its place.

It was a funny thing, Hotch only ever spared the tiniest of smiles, and yet it was them that brought you the biggest and most intense amount of happiness. It was so rare to see his ever-stoic features reflect joy that you couldn’t help but light up like a kid on Christmas every time it occurred.

And true to what you’d always been told growing up, your smile was just so contagious that he couldn’t help but to smile wider at the sight.

“Thank you.” He whispered, and visibly relaxed where he stood.

Your heart swelled in your chest when you took note of the way he was slowly but surely shuffling closer to you, picking up a significant amount of speed when you then felt his hand brush against the side of your hip.

But he didn’t dare touch you, hesitation still lingering in the air. So you did what your heart told you and grabbed a hold of his hand, and pushed it down into the curve of your waist.

From then on, he moved on his own, raising his other hand to mimic the same position at your other side, and you let your hand drop from his, instead raising them to busy with his crimson red tie.

“I know you’re struggling, with yourself, with Jack, and that you’re still processing the divorce. And if it’s time you want, then I’ll wait.” You spoke quietly, feeling your skin flush hot under his touch as his thumbs began to move over the thin fabric of your shirt. “But if you want to keep going and see where this can go, then I’ll be here every step of the way to support and help you in any way I can. You just need to let me in.”

More shyly then before, you dared loo back up at him through your lashes, hands stilling on his chest.

His smile was gone and his eyes creased together in concentration, but his eyes were soft and his head slowly nodded. “You’re right.” He said, and you allowed yourself to smile again.

“Aren’t I always?” You lightheartedly teased, tilting your head to the side.

In return, a smile spread across his face, his head shaking. “Don’t make me take it back.”

“No, no take-backs. What’s said is said.” You kept joking, your smile only widening.

He kept smiling down at you for a few seconds longer, but then his face fell again, just like that, out of nowhere, completely sudden. The gaze he held on your face grew absent as he got lost in his thoughts, and before you could question him about the sudden change of mood, the words spilled from his lips as if there was no tomorrow.

“I think I love you.”

Your mind instantly broke into a flurry of thoughts, countless emotions battling in your body. Nervosity and excitement ended up coming out on top, the mixture of the two creating an uncomfortable, sickly feeling in your stomach.

Your face fell in disbelief and your eyes searched his as he came back to reality.

“You do?”

Your voice came out so quiet and small, you mentally cursed yourself for sounding so pathetic, but luckily, you didn’t get much time to beat yourself up over the anticlimactic reacting as he continued.

“You don’t have to say it back if you don’t feel the same way, but I needed to say it. Every day, this job puts all of our lives in danger. I couldn’t bear it if one of us died before I got the time to let you know how I feel.”

You sucked in a breath, feeling yourself growing weak at the knees as he absentmindedly rubbed your waist with his thumbs.

“Just a minute ago, you were trying to end… whatever this is, and now your proclaiming your love for me?” You asked.

It was meant to be a joke, an attempt to ease the anxiety you were currently feeling, but you realized quickly that said anxiety made it sound like the exact opposite of a lighthearted, teasing joke.

Luckily, the man standing in front of you was a profiler and knew that you meant no harm, understanding how shock could render your ability to react appropriately.

“I was never trying to end what we have. I just wanted to be sure that you were sure. That I won’t be holding you back.” He explained, and you finally managed to pull yourself out of the state of shock.

“Being with you motivates me. And I love you, too.” You confessed, the smile once again returning to your face as you moved your hands from his chest to wrap around the back of his neck.

“I’m happy to hear that.” He smiled right back. “Can I kiss you?” He quietly added, and your face instantly lit up in a mischievous expression.

“In the office?” You gasped dramatically, bringing your arms down, taking a step back and lightly slapping his chest. “Aren’t you feeling frisky today?”

A large smile stretched across his lips, his chest shaking as he chuckled. “Come here.” He said simply, and before you got the chance to argue, not that you would’ve if given the opportunity, he sat back down in his chair and pulled you down with him.

The chair spun in the process, causing you to let out a squeal of surprise. Your arms wrapped around his neck and your small laughs of glee quickly became muted as he placed his lips on yours, replaced by low hums of contentment.

You clung to him as if your life depended on it, basking in the feeling of his lips moving against yours and his arms tightening around your waist, and as your entire body burned with passion, you realized that he really was the one for you.

Tagged: @must-be-a-weasley-92 @zizzlekwum @cozytruecrimeaddict @lovelynervouskingdom

(If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, send me a message, ask or leave a comment)

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #hotchner imagine #hotchner x reader #hotchner #hotch #hotch imagine #hotch x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #derek morgan #spencer reid

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wreckofawriter · 5 years ago

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Best Not To Cry Over Spilled Milk

Pairing: James Potter x Sirius' twin!reader

Warnings: A shit ton of angst, a little swearing

Word Count: 3,779

Request: @rini-scallison: May I request something? If I may I would like to request something like not so perfect sister but instead it’s with Sirius as the brother (a twin if you may) and the reader is like the perfect daughter and Sirius hates her but she tries really hard for him to have a happy life and there’s a bunch of angst and stuff ! You can add a romance in there if you would like too ! Thank you!

A/n: Okay sooo I'm not sure if this is exscatly what the request was but it's how I interpreted it, I really like it at least, I hope you guys do to. I'm hoping to bang out my last few requests, I'm quarantined till April 12th sooo... (stay safe everyone, love you all <3)

Sirius liked to believe he was a pleasant person. At least for the most part, and considering his background, he thought he did pretty good. He may not have been an angel but he had good friends, he helped those around him and unless your name was Severus, he was usually kind. Usually. Unfortunatly there were two people in this world that could break his carefully crafted exterior in a matter of seconds. They both shared his name.

The first was his mother, someone who in all honesty he saw as less of a human and more of a grotesque creature from a child’s nightmare. In his mind, her black heels were replaced by sharp talons. Her long fingernails were claws of obsidian and her dark eyes had the ability to turn you to stone. She had spent her time in Sirius’ life diminishing him to nothing more than a clone of her terror as he tried to make himself anything but.

The second was a success story. The clone of his mother’s terror. His beloved twin, y/n Black or as many had taken to calling her recently; the Slytherin Queen. And boy was she. She followed every order dispatched to her, obeyed every demand, bowed before the monster that had raised her. She had kept on her blindfold her mother had placed on her the minute she had entered the world. Maybe it only took the twelve minutes which y/n had emerged before Sirius for her to fall under a spell which even the youngest black had started to break from.

Sirius was never sure what happened to you. You always sat with your back straight at the dinner table. You never complained about the corset which was always sinched too tight, you would just let your vision go dark from the lack of oxygen. And it completely infuriated him.

Sirius really wished he hadn’t cared when he had gotten the letter. He really wished he had thrown a party and done something stupid like set off fireworks in the common room. But he hadn’t. He had instead demolished an entire bottle of fire whiskey crying because, fuck it hurt to be tossed aside by the people who were supposed to love you most. The next morning he dragged you into an empty classroom hungover and still smelling of liquor and asked you what he fuck had happened.

You had told him you begged your mother not to, you told a sob story about a sad little argument in which you- the obvious victim -had fought for his place on the banner in your living room.

The truth had been very different, his mother had exposed the fact that it was indeed your idea to kick him from the family, that you were convinced he was a disgrace, nothing more than a bug to squash under your boot. He wished he could believe you not his monster. But he knew you. He knew you so goddamn well. You were his twin. His other half. He saw the way your eyes darted away from his own, you shifted on your feet, how you bit the inside of your cheek. You had lied. You had lied to him and he would never forgive you for it.

“And what is the M.O.M classification of the Phoenix?” Merrythought asked. Your hand shot in the air. “Ms. Black?”

“An XXXX professor, although it did not earn this rating from its aggression but only because so few wizards have been able to domesticate it.” You explained and Sirius rolled his eyes.

“Correct Ms. Black, five points to Slytherin.” The teacher praised, you beamed still sitting straight as a board.

Sirius let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like the words ‘Kiss ass’ earning a few giggles from the surrounding students.

You pretended you didn’t hear him, hand tightening around your quill.

James watched as your knuckles went white, How did your brother still bother you? He wondered.

Sirius leaned back in the chair next to him mumbling something unnecessarily rude. James fought the urge to roll his eyes. When class was dismissed Sirius made a point to pass you as you packed up.

“You’ll make an excellent death eater sis.” He taunted and you paused for a moment but refused to comment.

Sirius left the classroom James followed risking a glance over this shoulder to see you being joined by a blonde boy and the Lestrange sisters. Sirius caught him looking and sneered, “A bunch of future murders. Fuckin’ assholes.”

“You know you could give her a rest, you haven’t even spoken in like a year,” James suggested.

Sirius scoffed, “And who’s fault is that?”

James shrugged, knowing the awnser.

“You know she’s ghosting Reg too?” Sirius glowered, “He always looked up to her too, I have no clue why, but he did. And now she won’t even talk to him.”

Remus and Peter joined the pair as they made their way into the Grand Hall.

“Talking about y/n?” Remus inferred.

“Hard not to when she’s such a bitch.”

James cringed at his friend’s choice of words. “I’m hungry, let's get some food.” He spoke attempting to change the topic.

“Why else would be in here?” Remus laughed.

James cracked a smile opening his mouth to speak but was cut off.

“Oh shit.” Sirius cussed.

“What did you do?” Remus sighed, rolling his eyes.

“I didn’t do anything but can you get me food and meet me in the common room, I may or may not be avoiding Marleen,” Sirius spoke ducking behind James.

“Sure, just get out of here, I really don’t want to hear her voice right now.” Peter cringed at the memory of being yelled at by the sharp toned girl.

“I’ll get food, you guys ditch,” James suggested. The other three agreed to leave the hall as the fourth grabbed four plates filling each and flicking his wand causing them to float in the air surrounding him.

James then made his way from the hall. As he turned out of the door he ran straight into someone, stumbling backward a bit he straightened his gaze to see you, your group of what he supposed were friends sneered at him.

“You guys go on, I’ll catch up.” You spoke, voice monotone.

They silently agreed, leaving you with the curly-haired boy who now pushed his glasses nervously up his nose.

“Hey Potter, I need to talk to you.” James would never admit he was scared of you but he did feel his heart leap to his throat at your words.

“What’s up?” He asked hoping you didn’t catch as the sentence wavered slightly.

You bit your lip glancing down at your feet before looking up to meet his gaze. “I wanted to thank you.”

That is not what he expected you to ask.

“I can’t even begin to say how relieved I am that you took Sirius in. Please thank your parents for me as well.” You seemed almost nervous, “I actually have something for you.”

James could not believe that the words you were saying were actually coming out of your mouth. He had expected you to cuss at him, call him a blood traitor amongst other names and then follow your friends into the hall. But you were thanking him instead.

You rummaged in your bag before removing a red box about the size of a wide bookmark. You held it out to the boy.

James stared at you half expecting you to break out laughing and reveal the joke.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You mumbled shoving the gift at his chest.

“Sorry.” James murmured opening the box eyes widening. Inside was a watch, a damn nice one. It looked to be at least plated with gold, if not solid. Its inside was a scarlet red with three different faces, one of which instead of showing roman numerals around the edge showed the phases of the moon. The strap was a reddish leather, clasp gold as well.

“Here, watch this.” You spoke stepping closer and carefully removing the watch from its velvet cushion. You held it delicately, pressing an almost invisible button on the side. In a flash two delicate golden wings erupted from the sides of the device and James realized in fascination that the watch now appeared to look like a snitch, you paid no mind flipping it over to reveal a small square gap on the back. “It’s enchanted with an undetectable extension charm so you can put just about anything in it.” You explained clicking the small button again.

James watched in marvel as the wings fluttered closed closing the gap seamlessly. “This is amazing y/n,” He whispered looking up at you only to realize you were centimeters away. He could feel your breath fan over his cheeks. It was cold and minty.

“It’s nothing compared to what you’ve done for me.” You reasoned sliding the watch back into its case and stepping backward. “And before you say you can’t accept it remember that I have plenty of money.”

Those were going to be the next words out of his mouth.

“I have one more thing to ask you, James.” You seemed really nervous now, you hoisted the strap of your bag back up over your shoulder. “How’s Sirius? Is he okay?”

You had baffled him once again.

“I know I should be asking him that but ever since last year he would sooner light me on fire than have a civil conversation with me.” You sighed.

The Chaser stared at you, this is not how he thought your conversation would go.

“So is he okay?” You asked again, almost urgently.

“Yeah, he’s fine.” James assured you, “He’s a little moody but overall he’s good.”

“Have his panic attacks stopped?” You questioned.

James who had no clue he even got those nodded, “I think so.”

“Mental breakdowns?”

James ran his hands through his hair, “He gets them every once and awhile, Moony and I help him through though.”

You gave a weak smile and stepped forward wrapping your arms around his neck, placing your forehead on his chest. James froze, slowly letting his arms hold your waist, “I honestly can’t thank you enough. You’re a godsend Potter.” You mumbled. You stepped away a few seconds later crimson kissing your cheeks. “Don’t tell Siri we talked. He’ll be pissed.” And with that, you left.

James felt his heart hammer as he sucked in the air he didn’t realize he had stopped breathing. What just happened?

James had had a crush on you the second you locked eyes centuries ago on platform 9 and ¾. You were the main reason he had looked so long for a certain compartment. A compartment that contained a set of twins, one of which would become his best friend. You had always been very pretty, your strong attitude had aided in that conclusion as well. He thought you were going to be very good friends with him. That was until you were sorted into Slytherin and Sirius soon revealed his rivalry with you.

He had still harbored feelings for you, small ones he chose to ignore most of the time. He never told a soul, passing his feelings from girl to girl. He proved to be quite good at burying them. You also showed just how good you were at unearthing his secrets with a laugh, a wide smile or the save of a quaffle. The feeling of you in his arms rested in his mind for a long time. He dreamt of you, yearned to hold you again. You had smelt like caramel and cinnamon, you fit into his chest as a puzzle piece did to its neighbor. He really wished you hadn’t hugged him.

As your sixteenth birthday approached both twins appeared to be more and more on edge. James was dead set on throwing a massive party but Sirius didn’t seem into it. As the day loomed closer he got jumpy, almost paranoid; as if someone was going to lean out from behind him and throw a bag over his head before dragging him away.

James also began to notice your absences from classes. More and more often you were simply gone, not being anywhere for days before appearing out of nowhere. You always looked so pale when you got back from wherever you had gone, the circle under your eyes always looked darker. He had asked Sirius what was up but got nowhere, he would just lick his lips and say nothing was wrong. A blatant lie.

You disappeared four days before the 3rd and was gone the entire week. Sirius refused to go to classes that week as well, claiming to be sick, which was fair considering he looked white as a ghost most of the time.

When you finally returned it looked as if you had been kissed by a dementor. Your face was vacant of any color, your usually vibrant eyes looked pale, bags underneath them bruised brown.

Both James and Sirius simultaneously tried to convince themselves you just had a stomach bug, that your sunken cheeks were nothing to be concerned about. Both knew they were wrong.

Sirius found you easily. He knew you too well. You always snuck outside, even when you were younger you would always sneak to the park a few blocks away to escape your mother’s rage. Until you learned to play with fire rather than run from it.

He followed you to the greenhouse. You had always liked herbology.

You turned at the shuffle of feet to see your brother, he looked almost as terrible as you did.

“Did you do it?” He asked, his voice sounding so empty as muffled chirps of crickets flowed through the cold November air.

You refused to look up, You sat in the corner of the cold glass house, your knees pulled to your chest, eyes cast on your dress shoes.

“Did you really go through with it?” His voice cracked, he stumbled over his own feet.

You still didn’t answer. Tears had built so thickly in your eyes you couldn’t see. You blinked and they went cascading downwards, raindrops leaking off your chin.

“Answer me y/n!” Sirius cried through gritted teeth, tears of his own threatening to spill.

“We have to get Regulus out of that house.” You spoke so plainly it was hard to believe that the words had come from you. “Fuck Siri they have a new initiation ceremony. He can’t go through with that.”

“Shit y/n/n, what did you do?” His voice was a mix of disgust and despair.

“I don’t fucking know.” You answered honestly.

“Did you kill someone?” He hissed.

“I wish I did Siri, I really wish I did.”

Sirius dropped his shoulders a defeated sigh coming from his lips.

“We have to get him out soon Siri. He is so much more stubborn than you were too.” You whimpered. “I mean you practically disowned yourself, mom just needed a push with you.”

“Why did you give her that push?” Sirius gasped, “Why did you do that? I could have helped you.”

“I saved you, Sirius.” Your sentence broke in half, “I know you hate me for it but I saved you.”

Sirius wiped his eyes furiously, “How did you possibly save me y/n?” He seethed.

“What do you think mom would have done if you were still in that house four days ago?” You asked. You knew he already knew the answer.

“Why the fuck didn’t you save yourself?” Sirius hollered, “Why did you follow every rule she set? Every fucking order she gave you?”

“The Black family needed an heir.” You shrugged tongue darting out to collect a tear from the corner of your mouth. “I knew it had to be one of us, if not you or me then Reg.” you paused, “So I decided it would be me.”

“How? How could you possibly decide that?” Sirius sobbed now standing in front of you. You still didn’t look up.

“It was easier than you would think.” You chuckled darkly.

“It’s not fair y/n.” He stated, “We can still help you. Dumbledore will help, you can stay with James and me. Please y/n.”

“It’s too late and you know it.” You spoke, “Best not to cry over spilled milk.”

“But your life isn’t spilled milk!” Sirius shouted.

“Might as well be.” You shrugged finally meeting your brother’s eyes. They matched your own, puffy and red.

“How can you say that?” The boy spat, “It’s your fucking life!”

“Not anymore.” You sighed. “Look, Siri, in all honesty, I don’t give two fucks about my life right now, we have less than 13 months to find a way to get Regulus the fuck out of that house and then boom he turns 16 and none of this shit matters anymore. So stop worrying about me and start realizing we can still save him.”

Sirius had never felt so incredibly selfish before. You had given away your life for him and for Regulus. What had he given away? He had gotten the life he wanted while you would suffer for the rest of yours. And all you said was ‘It’s best not to cry over spilled milk.’ He suddenly remembered every jibe and comment he had said to you. You had done nothing but bite your tongue as he taunted the nightmare you lived him so he could bask in a daydream.

“I need you to start hanging out with him.” You mumbled, voice raw, “I have been avoiding him, hopefully, it will help. I’m gonna start making up lies about how his grades are slipping and he’s hanging out with mudbloods, maybe dating one.” You sighed, “Reg still wants to impress mom, I need you to get it into his mind how twisted she is. Make him hate her. Make him hate me too, use me as an example.” You paused, “Can you do that Siri?”

Sirius didn’t speak for a long time. You didn’t pressure him to. You stared straight ahead tears still leaking from your eyes.

“Yeah, I can do that.” Sirius finally spoke. He sounded half-dead, deflated. He sounded like you.

“Good.” You didn’t waste a second. You got to your feet wiping your tears and then you walked away.

James sprinted down the halls. He has his eyes peeled to the two names in the greenhouse. He made it free of the castle and saw a figure making their way towards him. He glanced down at the map and saw that it was you.

As he neared you he was finally able to drink in your appearance. Your eyes were bloodshot, you were attempting to dry never-ending teardrops, dragging your forearm repeatedly over your face. When you looked up at him his heart broke. Your bottom lip was shaking eyes so glassy it must have stung.

You dove into his chest, wrapping your arms around him and you began to cry. Your body jumped with sobs as James pulled you closer to him.

He forgot about everything but you as you nuzzled closer to him. He forgot about Sirius, about the tears soaking through his shirt and the dew that had dampened his robes. He only cared about you. You and the fact that you still smelt like caramel and cinnamon, you and your overly soft hair, you and your cold hands wrapped around him.

James nestled into your hair inhaling its intoxicating scent. He then hooked his hands under your arms and lifted you so your hands were wrapped around his neck. You understood and wrapped your legs around his waist your head becoming buried into his neck. He placed one hand under each of your thighs and began to carry you inside. As you made your way through the castle your tears began to slow, sobs turning to whimpers.

James felt his face bloom with deep red roses. His heart was thumping far too quickly. When he reached his destination he only had to pace twice before the door showed its self. The inside of the room was relatively the same as it always was except for the large brick fireplace and massive couch filled with large pillows.

The Chaser attempted to set you down on the couch but your firm grip on his neck and the legs wrapped around him forced him to follow downwards. A fresh blush coated his cheeks. You burrowed back into his embrace and it was quiet for a long time. The only noise coming from the crack of the fireplace and the sound of a faint wind blowing outside.

“Y/n what happened?” James finally asked and you pulled a bit away from him so you could look him in his eyes.

He looked so handsome, his deep chocolate brown eyes were wide with worry, only more magnified behind his round glasses. His cheeks were painted with poppies, his lips plush, and pink. His unruly thickly curled hair framed his face perfectly, a small strand falling between his eyes.

“You know I always had a thing for you.” You smiled weakly, “From the moment I saw you on the platform I thought you were the cutest thing I had ever laid eyes on.”

James wasn’t quite sure how to respond, he assumed he was dreaming.

“I never wanted to tell you, James, I never thought I would. But I need to.”

The room fell quiet again.

“Can I kiss you y/n?” James finally asked his heart near shattering.

You nodded slowly and he let his eyes flutter shut, yours doing the same as your lips gently met. The kiss was so fragile you were afraid it may break. He tasted like pumpkin juice, his tongue slipping into your mouth seconds before you pulled away.

“Y/n let me help you.” James pleaded as you swung your feet off of the couch, sitting upright as you mumbled ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’ quietly to yourself.

“Just.. take care of Siri for me.” You could feel tears beginning to climb back upwards.

James sat up beside you, “Y/n please.” He begged.

“It’s okay James.” You assured him with a watery smile. “You’ll get over it.”

“But y/n-”

You shushed him placing your pointer finger on his lips. He blinked a small tear falling down his flushed cheek. You wiped it away with your thumb.

“You’ll be okay James.” You paused standing swiftly, “Best not to cry over spilled milk.” You murmured over your shoulder as you left the room.

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iraacundus · 4 years ago

Text

International Relations

arrangedmarriage!hendery

genre: fluff, angst, smut words: 21k Warnings: sexual content; mentions of terrorism, death and injury; swearing

he was the president’s son, you were the ambassador’s daughter, forced into a marriage, the success of which, world peace quite literally hinged on

********

The news was unavoidable, every night it got worse and worse, your parents had advised you not to watch it, but you never listened. The tensions between the two countries had been rising for years and though they did their best to cover it up, those in the know, like your father, knew that you were on the brink of war.

“The proposed trade deal and boarder agreement between the two nations has fallen through,” said the newsreader who looked as calm as ever despite the potentially terrifying consequences of what she was saying.

You heard a knock at your door, so you fell leaned back on your bed, switching the TV off.

“Come in,” you called out, the door opening to reveal your father. You didn’t see him often, though you both lived in the same house, he had always been busy as ambassador to a county that your whole nation hated. So, when you saw him walk in, you knew it was important.

“I guess you have seen the news,” he said, spotting the remote that was still in your hand.

“We’re in serious danger, aren’t we?” you asked, but it wasn’t really a question, you knew the answer before you had asked.

Your father didn’t reply, he just sat down slowly on your desk chair, exhaling slightly.

“Your bodyguards will need to accompany you at all times now, even to university.” He said. It was your turn to sigh. It wasn’t that you disliked your bodyguards, or that you weren’t used to them, but university had always been a place you had a bit of freedom, without being watched all the time.

You didn’t argue though, you understood the gravity of the situation.

“I’m working on a solution, I think the issue can be resolved…” he cut himself off, looking more distressed than usual, “Just… I need you to meet me tomorrow afternoon in the Embassy Dining Room.” He said getting up again.

You wanted to ask why, but you also didn’t want to trouble him, he looked exhausted. The Dining Room was only used for official matters so the mere mention of it had inspired your curiosity, but you knew the situation wasn’t really about you, so you kept your mouth shut. A few minutes after he had left you put your slippers on and crept outside the door.

You had four bodyguards in total, two for the nightshift and two for the day, sadly your favourite mostly worked at night, so you rarely got to chat, but that night you took it upon yourself to go annoy him.

Jeno was by far your best bodyguard, all of them were the same age as you so they didn’t stand out in a crowd and so over the last few years Jeno had also become your close friend.

You found him standing just outside your door drinking milk tea, sometimes you couldn’t believe what his job was the way he acted.

“Hello bestie,” you called out to him, Jeno smiled when he saw you.

“Hello y/n,” he greeted back, “how are you this evening?”

It was always nice to talk to Jeno, not just because he was your friend but your bodyguards were the only people you knew except your family who were from your country, spoke your language, in every other aspect of your life you had to speak the language of a nation you resented.

“Stressed out, I think we are about this close to war,” you joked, putting your fingers as close together as possible while still leaving a gap. Jeno already knew this of course, while he was your bodyguard, he was also technically a member of the army, an important member at that.

He had joined at 16 and was so impressive he was almost immediately assigned to you.

“It will be fine,” he reassured, “Your Dad is a smart man, he will have a plan.”

“That’s what I’m stressed about,” you explained further, “he says I have to meet him tomorrow in the Dining Room, which has to be part of his plan,”

“Maybe you will get to meet the President,” Jeno laughed, you threw a mint at him.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I think the President hates us all enough to just shoot us on site,”

“That would really cause a war,” Jeno said, throwing the mint back at you, but you managed to catch it in your mouth, “Impressive,” he commented.

“It also means I have to have Chenle and Jaemin follow me around all day which I just don’t think I can take, are you sure you can’t switch to the day shift?”

Jeno shook his head, you stopped him before he could start his spiel of how he was the best out of all of them and you were statistically more likely to be targeted at night and so that’s when he was on duty, he told you this almost every day when you asked him to switch shifts.

“Just don’t say it,” you warned.

“But I am the best,” Jeno said proudly.

“I take it back I’m happy to have the other two,”

Jeno pouted,

“So much for bestie.”

You couldn’t help but smile, Jeno had managed to do exactly what you knew he would, make you smile, and forget about the impending doom of a war your country couldn’t win.

You talked with him a while more but when your brother came out and told you to,

“stop being annoying losers and go to bed,” - he was twelve - you went back into your room and turned the tv on again.

They were showing an interview with Hendery from earlier in the day. Hendery was the son of the President and you wondered how someone who seemed so nice could be the son of someone so evil.

He was sitting opposite the interviewer talking about how he hopes to start a project with his friends to help disadvantaged children and when they asked about the current international tensions, he said that he hoped a peaceful resolution could be reached.

You scoffed slightly at that; he should tell that to his father.

You had spent half your life on TV wondering what Hendery was like in real life, it was a weird obsession that Jeno regularly made fun of you for.

You just couldn’t figure out how much of his persona on TV was an act, how someone in such a strict family really lived, who were his friends, what did he do for fun. You had to think that like you, he had led a relatively isolated life.

If there had been one person you could have invited to your fantasy dinner party, it would have been Hendery. Chenle always picked Stephen Curry. It would have been a weird fantasy dinner party.

You had actually seen Hendery a few times in real life, you both attended the most prestigious university in the country, and he was only a year older than you. He was always with the same two people, one was Lucas, son of an important politician, the other was his main bodyguard, well at least you assumed as much.

You had never seen him on the news, his name was never mentioned alongside Lucas and Hendery in magazines, you assumed that the state was blocking his personal information from the media, to hide that he was a bodyguard.

Hendery had real bodyguards as well, two or three always followed behind the trio, but something just didn’t add up about that third guy being a normal college student.

You switched the TV off once again when Jeno sent you a text making fun of you for watching the Hendery interview again, you must have had the volume up too loudly. You were worried and stressed but you had never been one to struggle sleeping, so when you turned the light off and pulled the duvet up to your chin you fell asleep almost immediately.

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

Chenle and Jaemin had followed you around all day at university as planned, luckily no one had tried to attack you, but the paparazzi had been there taking as many photos as they could.

“I hope they got some good pictures of me, I actually have quite the fanbase back home as the cute bodyguard,” Jaemin tried to brag as you hid in the student café as far away from any windows as possible.

“Your wrong,” Chenle objected, you were about to agree with him when Chenle continued, “I definitely have more fans.”

You banged your head against your textbook.

“I hate you both, I should have made Jeno come,” you said causing Jaemin to pout and Chenle to just laugh.

You were about to kick him when Jaemin nudged you.

“He’s here,” he said ominously,

“Who?” you asked, “Please let it be Jeno to save me from you losers.”

“No, Hendery and Co.”

You fell silent, noticing Jaemin was right. Hendery, Lucas and the guy you didn’t know had just walked in and sat down a few tables away. You forced yourself not to stare.

“Not only am I stuck with you two but I’m also being followed by the enemy.”

“I don’t think he’s following us,” Chenle said, ‘Probably he was just hungry.”

“No, he’s definitely staring at y/n,” Jaemin said,”maybe he found that she watches him on the news over and over again.”

This time you did kick Jaemin, causing him to shout slightly. All three of them were now definitely looking at you.

Luckily at that moment Hendery seemed to get a call so you whispered at the two boys to get up.

“It’s almost three o’clock, we need to go meet my dad,” you explained as you all half ran out of the dining hall, entering into a full run when the cameras spotted you.

You didn’t think three people could have reacted anymore suspiciously than you just had.

A car was waiting with the diplomatic flags to pick you up, Jaemin shoved you and Chenle into the backseat, before shutting the door and climbing in next to the driver. The car had shaded windows so you could finally relax.

“Who do you think is going to be waiting in the Dining Room?” Chenle asked you. You hadn’t told either of them exactly where you were meeting your dad, Jeno was such a gossip.

You pulled up at the Embassy only ten minutes later. Cameras were once again outside but none of them seemed interested in you when you got out of the car and walked up to the gate. You thought it was strange, but you also weren’t complaining.

The guards saluted as the opened the gate to let you in. You walked along the drive and around to the back entrance that led into your family’s part of the house. Your dad had texted for you to wear something semi-formal, so you pulled out one of your favourite flowery dresses, found a nice pair of low heels and slid a bracelet onto your wrist.

It was your lucky bracelet. Jeno had given it to you for your 18th Birthday, it was a traditional bracelet made in your home country. Apparently by an old lady had cast a spell on you that made it lucky, while you highly doubted it was true, you still wore it every time you were nervous, believing it would help you.

You heard a small knock at your door,

“Are you dressed?” You heard Jeno call out, you quickly opened your door to let him in. His face looked grey.

“I volunteered to go with you to the meeting, I figured you had dealt with enough of the other two for one day.”

“But you were on duty last night, aren’t you tired, I’m sure Renjun could do it,” he was your fourth bodyguard.

“It’s okay, I slept all day and also I know you are nervous, so I wanted to be able to support you, even if it is silently from two meters away.”

You smiled, giving him a small hug before leaving the room and heading towards the dining room. Jeno seemed more nervous than you, you guessed your father had told him what was going on in advance. You could have asked Jeno, but you almost didn’t want to know.

You fidgeted outside the door, procrastinating your entrance. Jeno put his hand on your shoulder lightly.

“You look great y/n, and you do well at everything, it will be fine.” He said.

When you opened the door to the Dining Room you almost fell over. You had no idea what you had expected but to see the President, his wife and Hendery, sitting across the table from your own parents was a shock.

You glanced back at Jeno who gave you his best attempt at a reassuring smile.

“Y/n,” your father called out, motioning for you to come and sit in the empty chair in between him and your mother, opposite Hendery. You don’t know who you were more scared to see, the evil President or Hendery. Hendery wasn’t smiling like he always did on TV, like always seemed to be with Lucas. A frown was firmly settled on his lips and he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but there.

You sat down carefully in the chair after bowing your head in respect towards the President. Because he wasn’t a normal president, he had been elected once but that was a long time ago, he hadn’t held an election in twenty years, as long as you had been alive, so to you he wasn’t a president but a dictator.

Unlike Hendery, the President smiled at you, his smile seemed genuine unlike the slightly forced smile on both his wife and your parents’ faces.

“It’s lovely to meet you, y/n,” The President said, offering his hand out to shake, his grip firm and unwavering, “This is my wife and my son Hendery, I’m sure you’ve probably seen him around at university.”

You smiled the best you could,

“Yes, I’ve heard he’s quite popular,” you said, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, his mouth still resting in a firm line.

The President laughed. An intern came in and poured some tea before anyone continued speaking.

“The ambassador and I are both worried about how the tensions between our two countries are developing. We have been unable to find a traditional solution, yet we seem to have found an agreement that will solve the animosity so that eventually trade deals and boarder disputes can be settled.” He began.

You noticed Hendery hadn’t drunk any of the tea but was gripping the handle tightly, as sinking feeling arose in your chest as you began to guess what was going to be suggested, you were an intelligent person.

“It would require a large sacrifice on both your and my son’s behalf and to that extent we both know we cannot force you to agree but warn you of the consequences of this agreement failing.”

You tried to drink your tea as calmly as possible.

“Neither of us would suggest this if we felt there was a better option your father added.” They were both avoiding the main point.

“Marriage,” Hendery said all of a sudden, “That’s what they are trying to suggest.”

You knew what they were suggesting but the fact Hendery said it out loud almost caused you to choke on your tea.

“Yes,” the President continued, “as my son not so eloquently put, we feel that a union between the two countries would help people from both sides understand each other better through supporting a couple. We will pose it as if you had both met at university and fell in love naturally and we hope it means people will learn to love you, it might not work straight away but we hope it can win over the hearts of those who oppose on both sides eventually.”

You swallowed. It wasn’t like you had someone else you wanted to marry, you had never had a crush, you figured you would never be able to marry for love anyway, however you hadn’t banked on Hendery, on marrying into a family you resented so greatly.

“Hendery has already agreed but of course you do have a choice, I’m not in the business of making people do things they do not wish,” He said. You had to stop yourself from snorting with laughter.

He was blackmailing you into marriage with the threat of war, so his statement was just rather ironic, especially as blackmail was how he maintained power in more aspects of his life than not.

“Anything to ensure peace,” you said graciously. The President clapped his hands together with a grin.

“I knew you were a smart woman,” He said. You father breathed out a visible sigh of relief, you were offended he ever thought you would let your country down.

“We won’t announce the engagement right away, we will give you both some time to get to know each other, sometime to back away, in a month or so, if you are still both willing, we will hold a gala to announce the engagement, by then we will need you to have come up with a water-tight backstory, I can get someone to help create it if you wish, but all this can be discussed later.”

Another intern came in seconds later to inform the President and my father of urgent business for them both, causing them to both give their apologies and leave quickly.

You were left with Hendery, your mother and your future mother in law. Your mothers began to chat, both gushing about planning a wedding. It wasn’t that they were insensitive, they just both wanted to make the best out of a bad situation, you could tell from their earlier faces that they both worried for you.

Hendery’s eyes remained fixed on the tea, glaring at the cooling liquid.

You had never wanted to ask him a question more than right now. But you were scared, it wasn’t that you were afraid of Hendery in general, but you didn’t want to upset him. He was clearly nervous, playing with his fingernails.

You didn’t know why you felt so calm in comparison, you didn’t think Hendery could have had plans to marry for love, like you he must have always known he would marry for politics.

Yet something seemed to scare him. You had more reason to be scared, you were joining his family as his family was more powerful, you would have to live in his country as part of a dictatorship, but he seemed more scared.

“Too shy to even talk to each other, how cute,” your mum cooed. You wanted to throw a pen at her, you were starting to think you were a slightly violent person.

“We will fix that soon enough, why don’t you both come over on Saturday and we can talk for longer, so they can get to know each other better.” His mother suggested.

Yes, because all best conversations between fiancés happen in front of their mothers, you wanted to say to Jeno, but you had to pretend he wasn’t there, that was his job.

A few minutes later your mothers had exchanged phone numbers and were getting up to leave. You thought Hendery would at least acknowledge you, but he seemed to not even see you when he stood up to leave. You followed him out to the entryway, you could tell the mothers had tactically waited behind a few seconds.

“My name’s y/n,” you said to him loudly enough that he had to look over at you. He nodded.

“I know my father said, and also I have seen you at Uni, you were in the café today, you kicked your bodyguard and ran out,” he said.

You blushed red, cursing your violent nature, you were going to marry the son of an evil dictator who had only ever seen you act strangely. You must have committed so many sins in your past life.

“I’m Hendery,” he said, still not smiling.

“I think we both know I know who you are.” Your statement sounded slightly more accusatory than you had meant, but I didn’t seem to make Hendery seem anymore unhappy than he already was.

Neither of you said anything further in the two awkward minutes it took for your mothers to finally emerge.

“It was lovely to meet you,” His mother said wrapping her arms around you, far more personal contact than you had hoped for, but you understood she was just trying to be nice.

“You too,” you said with a grin, hoping you didn’t come across as disingenuous. The guard at the door opened the door for them to leave. Before Hendery did, he turned to give you a small smile,

“See you soon y/n,” he said. Before walking out towards all the flashing lights of the media storm that hat gathered.

You were not sure whether he had been nice to you for the sake of his mother or if he had just felt obliged but you were grateful nonetheless as it had made the whole experience seem less dire and it also had allowed your mother to smile from relief.

“He doesn’t seem too bad,” she said.

“He’s better than a war,” you replied before excusing yourself in the name of homework but really your aim was to get some peace and quiet.

You started walking up to the roof, Jeno close behind, you were waiting for him to shout at you and tell you that it was easy for you to be shot from the roof like he usually did but the words never came.

Even as you lifted yourself off the ladder Jeno said nothing he just came up and sat beside you, having texted Jaemin, Renjun and Chenle who also appeared moments later.

“You don’t get to marry evil Hendery that you’re obsessed with that’s not fair,” Jaemin whined as he sat down next to you, “you were meant to marry me.”

You shot him a confused look,

“In what world was I marrying you, if I was going to marry any of you it would be Jeno, but I would never because we are quintuplets.” You say to him to which he just sticks his tongue out.

“Chenle’s only like three years old,” Renjun protests. You laugh sadly.

“I will miss you all,” you said.

“Absolutely not,” Jeno replied, “we are not doing sad hours tonight.”

“What are we doing then?” asked Chenle while simultaneously fighting Renjun for calling him three years old.

“We will find me an outfit to wear for Saturday so that I’m so gorgeous it knocks Hendery out and I don’t have to talk to him, and he also forgets our weird café behaviour.” You said.

“Weirdly specific but okay,” Jaemin replied. The other three sighed, all of the boys hated outfit time, not because they were against fashion, but because you were so indecisive.

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

They may have complained but it worked, by the time you turned up at the front door of the Presidential House on Saturday you looked drop dead gorgeous. Your mother and Jeno had come with you and you all stood just behind the door waiting for it to open.

You were ushered through a series of rooms and up some stairs until you reached a bright sunny sitting room on the third floor. Inside Hendery’s mother was pouring some tea there was, however, no sign of Hendery himself.

She rushed over to great you, making sure you sat down, passing out cakes.

“I am sorry,” she said, “I told him to be ready for eleven.”

Just at that moment Hendery entered, wearing a suit, something he rarely did. You hated to admit how attractive he looked; you didn’t want Jeno to be right about your obsession.

He was followed by the third guy, the one who wasn’t Lucas. You had been right; he must have been a bodyguard as he went and stood next to Jeno.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Hendery interjected, “My suit wasn’t dry,” he explained, his face flustered. At least that humanised him somewhat, you could live with Hendery, you just had to believe he was a real person deep down somewhere.

He sat down on a chair across from you just like before, yet this time his eyes stared right at you.

“So, what do you study?” Hendery’s mother asked you, trying to get the conversation started.

You pushed a smile onto your face.

“Modern Languages and International Politics” you replied. You liked to think you were an impressive person, at least in some respects. You could speak four languages fluently and were learning two more at university. You knew almost as much about world affairs as your parents and your mother had always taught you excellent manners.

“You could study with Hendery,” she suggested, “he studies International Politics and History,” she said, after he didn’t offer up the information himself. You saw her try to nudge him and had to hold back a giggle.

“We certainly could, that would be lovely,” you said, looking Hendery dead in the eyes, daring him to stay silent. You couldn’t marry someone who didn’t speak to you, “What do you do for fun?” you asked him.

“I like playing basketball and watching films,” he said. His voice was cold, it may have dissuaded anyone else, but you refused to give up.

“Ah maybe you could teach me how to play, one of my bodyguards loves basketball and has tried his best to teach me but I’m a failure at it, I prefer tennis if I’m honest.”

Hendery didn’t reply.

“That’s great, I must challenge you to a match sometime y/n,” his mother replied, “that is if you don’t give up on marrying my son here, I do apologise he isn’t usually this… shy.”

You certainly didn’t believe being shy was his issue. You also didn’t understand what his issue was. He must have had a girlfriend you decided, made the mistake you never had and fallen in love with someone he could never marry.

But you were only guessing you had no idea.

“Don’t worry,” you replied, “Hendery isn’t bad enough to destroy international peace for.” A statement that caused both of your mothers to laugh somewhat nervously.

Hendery looked down and back up again.

“Sorry,” he said quietly, “I really just am a bit nervous.”

You were a bit sceptical of this excus, still you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and take pity on him.

“Why?” you asked, “I don’t bite,”

Hendery laughed slightly, shaking his head.

“It’s not that, I just want to make a good impression I guess, you are my future wife and also…” he didn’t finish, “I’ll explain some other time,” he said, his eyes flicked to our mothers next to him.

He was right that it was hard to connect with four other people in the room, but the mothers particularly. Jeno you would have told later if he hadn’t been there, but the presence of parents made the meeting feel formal.

However, Hendery did seem to make more of an effort as the meeting continued. You learned that he likes cats and that his favourite colour was pink. Nothing ground-breaking, he still seemed like Hendery on TV, picture perfect and somewhat shallow. Not in the sense that he was self-obsessed but more that he was like a cartoon character 2-D. He lacked any sense of humanity or connection, he said all the right things, never saying anything particularly meaningful.

On reflection he probably thought the same about you.

You only saw Hendery once more properly in the following weeks. You were both busy with university and it was hard to find a time you could meet with your mother’s present, something they insisted on until you were both officially engaged.

Only three weeks after the marriage was first suggested Hendery asked his father if the marriage could be announced sooner rather than later, despite having a week left to decide. You guessed he partly did this to avoid any more awkward teatime chats with your mothers. The President rang you to ask if you were also okay with making a decision early, you agreed. Also, partly to avoid any more of those chats.

It was decided that your engagement would be announced two weeks later and a ball to celebrate would be held the night after that

Your last night of normality passed quickly, you went out to play mini golf with the four boys. You were usually only allowed out a few times a month to large places such as the crazy golf one, but your parents had let it slide seeing as you were a 20-year-old woman about to get engaged.

The next morning your alarm rang at five. You sat up, questioning whether you should take up Renjun on an offer he had given to smuggle you out of the country. If only world peace hadn’t been so important.

You kicked off your duvet in a mood and dragged yourself over to your dressing table. You didn’t have to get ready particularly, you had been assured state media would take care of hair and makeup, however you had still felt it was vital to at least brush your hair.

Ten minutes later Jeno arrived at your door with a McDonalds breakfast.

“Breakfast for M’lady,” he joked, kneeling down to pass it to you. From behind him you saw a girl’s head pop out from around the corner. You almost jumped backwards from shock. Jeno laughed.

“This is Chanmi,” he introduced, “she is your state provided assistant.”

“Why do you make it sound like communism Jeno,” she complained before jumping round him and holding her hand out for you to shake. She looked at her own hand and before you had a chance to shake it, she put it down and pulled you into a hug instead.

“I may work for you, but I also hope we become life-long friends,” she said. You appreciated that at least one person was excited for today.

“I’m y/n,” you smiled back, “I also hope we get on well.” You offered her a hash brown, but she refused.

“I already ate, I’m here to run through today’s schedule,” she pulled out a very large folder from her bag and opened it to the first page, “we have hair and make up at eight, wardrobe at nine and the announcement will be at around nine-thirty, but before that we have a rehearsal with Hendery, that’s why we are here so early.” Chanmi seemed to speak with out breathing.

Jeno looked down at his watch, five twenty-five.

“We need to go,” he said, “you can eat in the car.”

You grabbed your lucky bracelet from the side and clasped it round your wrist, there was no way you would have gone on television without it.

Jaemin, Chenle and Renjun stood at the door with your mother and little brother. They had gathered to wave you off even though you would be back home by the afternoon.

“I love you guys,” you managed to say half-way through eating your meal. Jeno continued hurrying you towards the car. You wanted to laugh how seriously he was suddenly taking his job, not that he had been messing around before, but he had never cared so much about being punctual.

He sat in the front so Chanmi could climb in next to you.

“Who is that good looking boy who was closest to the door?” she asked. Jaemin would have loved to hear her say that. But before you could tell her it was him; she had already carried on talking.

“You will meet with Hendery so you can both firm up your stories about your romance.” She explained.

“You know it’s fake?” you asked her.

“All key staff know, but not everyone who works in the Presidential House, so don’t mention it when other people are present,” she said. You nodded. You were starting to get nervous. It was not your first time on TV, you had filmed programmes for your home country about what it was like to study abroad and you had done work for the young ambassador’s programme run by Hendery’s country.

But this was… something else.

The drive was only ten minutes as usual, there was also no traffic in the morning, so you barely had time to contemplate your impending fate before arriving at the house.

Jeno and Chanmi ushered you out of the car and into the house, there was only one reporter waiting to hide you from, though you were surprised anyone had been there before six in the morning.

Hendery and his bodyguard, who Jeno had informed you was named Sicheng, were waiting for you just inside the door.

“Good morning,” you said as brightly as possible, taking another sip of your coffee, hoping it would help in some way. You were half expecting Hendery to change his mind at the sight of your tattered appearance before you remembered he wasn’t really marrying you for your beauty.

“Nice to see you again,” he replied, slightly less brightly. You all stood slightly awkwardly waiting for someone to lead the way.

“Why don’t we go somewhere to talk?” Chanmi prompted.

“Oh yes,” Hendery said, seeming to remember what was going on, “let’s go to the family dining room, I got someone to prepare some drinks and snacks.”

You felt a bit bad for standing there with your McDonalds coffee, there was worse crimes you could have committed than assuming he wouldn’t have provided food though you supposed.

You followed just behind Hendery with Chanmi as Sicheng fell back to walk with Jeno, both of them exchanging friendly glances. At least Jeno had made a friend.

The kitchen/dining room you entered looked somewhat normal compared to the rest of the house, though still elaborate and high class it was clearly somewhere a family lived, it much less resembled the home of a 16th century king.

Hendery seemed to notice your impression of the kitchen.

“A lot of the house is normal compared to the rest, it was remodelled for a modern family to live in, with proper central heating and all,” he joked, you politely gave him a small smile.

You looked over at the dining table. When he had said a few drinks and snacks he had been making a massive understatement. There was fruit, cereal, biscuits and hot food of all kinds. There was five types of juice, tea, coffee and even hot chocolate.

You really wished you hadn’t eaten the McDonalds.

“Help yourself,” Hendery said shyly, his hair falling over his eyes as he looked down. You couldn’t help but think about how cute he looked in the morning. You internally slapped yourself. This was a marriage of countries, not people.

“You guys too,” he said looking at Chanmi and the two bodyguards behind who had already began to hover by the pancakes. Sicheng high-fived Jeno and you couldn’t help but laugh.

Hendery looked over at you smiling when he saw you laugh.

“Shall we sit down?” he said. You grabbed an apple juice and a banana, as to not look impolite and sat down opposite where Hendery was. Chanmi sat down next to you, pulling out her massive folder once again.

“I assume we have to come up with, and learn a fake backstory,” he said to Chanmi, she nodded,

“Yes, you don’t have to be super detailed yet, it will be better to build in more details over time, but you do need to agree upon a basic timeline yes. It works best if you say you met at university and started dating sometime after, but you can both decide the details.”

You wished that she had just done it for you and printed it off but Hendery’s mother had explained weeks ago that if you came up with the story yourselves you were less likely to forget it.

“I think it’s best if we say we were friends for a while first,” you began, “I’ve been at the university for two years so we could perhaps say we met a year ago and started dating a while after?” You proposed.

“I agree,” he said, “We can say we started dating two months after we met. That we were introduced by our mutual friend Lucas…”

You cut him off,

“But I don’t know anything about Lucas,” you objected. Hendery shook his head,

“Doesn’t really matter they won’t be interested in the details of that yet, Lucas has many friends so it’s believable and by the time they ask about that I’m sure you will have met Lucas many times.”

What he said made sense. You paused for a moment, when he mentioned that you would meet Lucas, it started to dawn on you that your whole life, however you had seen it playing out, wasn’t going to be that way, your life would be dominated by your marriage to the son of a dictator you barely knew.

You almost dropped your cup at the thought of it, Chanmi saving it from falling by steadying your arm.

Her once infallible expression now looked somewhat anxious.

“Sorry,” you said, “You’re right Hendery that works.” You placed your cup down. Chanmi started to scribble down what Hendery had said once you confirmed he had a good idea.

“What else do we need to be able to talk about?” you asked, Chanmi scanned down her list of questions.

“Well just reasons you like each other, you can make that up on the spot though basic things, maybe agree on the location of the first date and proposal and that’s about it, most of it will be a prepared statement given by Hendery and only a few questions by reporters.”

“Study date,” Hendery said, “for the first date, we should say we studied together, we have to explain in a way that explains why we haven’t ever been seen together, it plays up the star crossed lovers angle,” he said, “You can answer that one, I will talk about the proposal don’t worry about that.”

You nodded, hazarding another sip of your juice. Chanmi smiled.

“All set then, I will go and make sure everything else is set up well, you have another half an hour or so to just hang out or whatever,” she said.

You had been hoping she wasn’t going to leave you alone with Hendery which you knew was stupid because you had to live a whole lifetime with him, however you were postponing that until the last minute.

Chanmi ran out the door and the other two were still enjoying the food, watching a video in the corner, thankfully nobody was attacking at the current moment.

“We are finally left alone,” Hendery joked, “well at least mostly.” You looked up and smiled politely again, playing with your bracelet nervously.

“That’s pretty,” he commented, “where did you get it?”

“Jeno gave it to me when I turned eighteen, it’s from our home country.”

Hendery glanced over at Jeno who looked up from his phone and waved back. Hendery’s face changed slightly but you couldn’t read his expression.

“It’s meant to be charmed by a witch” you continued, “I wear it for luck.”

“Ah cool,” Hendery replied as he continued to watch you play nervously with the bracelet, “you don’t have to be so polite, if your nervous you can say, if you want to scream obscenities at me I wont stop you.”

You exhaled, the tension you held inside releasing slightly.

“It’s not your fault either, it isn’t an optimal situation for either of us so it would be unfair for me to scream obscenities. I’m not angry anyway. But nervous… that I am.”

“About the announcement?” he prompted. You glanced up at the ceiling, looking at the intricate pattern in the paint.

“Not in particular though it does unsettle me slightly. It’s more of an overall nervousness I would say…” Hendery seemed to want you to continue, “Well you seem polite and all, but I don’t know you and so giving up my life to marry you is somewhat scary. But sometimes in life you have to make sacrifices, and this is mine, as it is yours.”

Hendery kept looking at you before he got up, he walked round and sat down in the chair next to you where Chanmi had once been.

“I suppose I understand that better than anyone else ever will,” he said his face serious, “but I really mean it when I say I don’t want either of us to be unhappy, so I really will try my best, not for the sake of international relations but for the sake of ourselves.”

You smiled genuinely at him.

“I’m sure at worst I will only hate you a little bit,” you joked.

A text came through on your phone from Chanmi, you didn’t know when she had acquired your phone number, but you pushed that thought aside.

Makeup Time!!! Upstairs third room on the left

“I have to go, my beautification awaits,” you said.

“You’re already pretty,” Hendery said, you were going to laugh but Hendery seemed serious. You blushed slightly. You put your phone in your pocket and grabbed a water bottle of the table.

“Well thank you and see you later for the end of our lives,” you said.

“It’s not the end it’s the beginning!” Hendery called after you as you hurried out. Jeno saw you leaving and almost fell over running after you.

“I see you have made a new best friend,” you said to him, on the way to where you hoped you would find Chanmi.

“I can’t be stuck with the same four friends my whole life, can I?” he said, “And anyway you and Hendery seem pretty close, you were always obsessed with him.”

“I was never obsessed with him,” you shout whispered back to him, clearly not quietly enough as Chanmi, who was waiting at the top of the stairs intercepted the conversation.

“Obsessed with who? I don’t think I’m up to a secret boyfriend scandal, let’s make that clear now.” She said.

“It’s nothing,” you said, glaring at Jeno. Chanmi seemed happy to accept that and a few seconds later had you seated in a chair in front of a large mirror.

For the next hour you had to endure several people pulling your hair and prodding your face. By the end you did look better than you ever had but you were not sure if the sweat and tears were worth it.

You had no time to ponder this as Chanmi was already pushing you towards a clothes rack. Jeno decided it was time for him to wait outside the door, leaving just you, Chanmi and the clothes.

“Jeno isn’t the secret boyfriend, is he?” Chanmi asked, searching through the rack. You coughed, water almost dribbling out of your mouth.

“No. He’s my brother practically, in all honest he was making fun of me and Hendery. I used to watch Hendery on TV obsessively, not because I had a crush on him but because I thought the son of a dictator was an interesting character. I didn’t believe he could be the same person in life as he is on TV, so I watched him over and over hoping to catch him out.”

“I want to say that’s cute given the situation but really think we will just need to find you a hobby to take up,” Chanmi decided, her face determined, “you can pick from any of these three,” she handed you three similar dresses, you picked a flower one, similar to the ones you had at home but clearly more expensive.

Chanmi smiled,

“Your mother told me you loved flowers,”

That must have been where she got your phone number.

“It’s a beautiful dress,” you complimented her for finding it,

“It should be at the price it costs.”

You pulled your makeshift outfit off and put on the outfit. She gave you some earrings and a necklace.

“Don’t I need an engagement ring?” you asked her.

“Don’t worry about that,” she said with a knowing smile. Jeno knocked on the door at the same time.

“You need to get going,” he called. You smiled at Chanmi before following her out and back down the staircase. She led you into the room next to the conference room where a team of people were waiting.

A lady started explaining how the microphone worked and that you didn’t need to stand up to answer any questions. She fell silent when Hendery walked into the room, his father and yours right behind him. Your father gave you a quick smile before turning back to the President.

Hendery walked up behind you and tapped you on the shoulder lightly,

“Can I borrow you for one minute?” he asked, and you followed him into an empty room across the hall. It seemed to be a rather large bathroom. Hendery locked the door.

“Is this the part where you murder me?” you asked, trying to make a joke. Hendery didn’t seem to understand, he looked shocked,

“I would never hurt you, let alone murder you, y/n, I hope you know that,” he said earnestly.

“I was joking,” you said, trying to laugh to ease the tension but it sort of sounded more like you were having breathing issues.

“Okay good because we don’t have a lot of time,” he said. You smiled back at him.

“What did you want to tell me then, if your plan wasn’t murder?” cursing yourself for bringing the murder joke back as soon as you had said it, luckily whether out of politeness or genuine humour Hendery chuckled.

He started to get down on one knee,

“Oh no… you don’t need to do this,” you said to him, shaking your hands. Hendery just grinned.

“But I want to, I should at least propose to my fiancé,” he pulled a box out of his pocket to reveal a ring that must have cost a large fortune, not a small one, “Will you marry me?” His face now serious as he looked up at you with a certain hope in his eyes.

You were more nervous now than you had been all day, you clutched the ends of your dress, your nails digging into your skin. The reality of the situation ever increasing.

“Yes,” is all you managed to say, but it was all you needed to say, Hendery stood up and placed the ring on your finger, his own fingers cold. The heating was certainly lacking.

He was wearing a much nicer suit than before, this time it wasn’t at all damp looking either. He wore a black tie and a badge with his country’s flag on it.

“We need to go,” you managed to say, very aware of how close Hendery now was to you and how you didn’t need another reason to be nervous. An attractive man standing that close made you nervous.

“Let’s go then,” Hendery said unlocking the door and holding it open for you which you thanked him for, quickly walking back across the hall.

Chanmi grabbed you, clearly checking that Hendery had given you the ring, once she had seen it, she was satisfied.

“Time to shine,” she said pushing you towards the door.

The conference room had been set up with four seats, Hendery and the President in the middle, you and your father seated either side. You saw both your mothers watching from the front row with Chanmi. Jeno was standing with a line of bodyguards at the back, Chanmi had let you keep your bracelet on and so you felt somewhat calmer because of it.

Hendery sat down first and you walked across to sit next to him.

“You will be fine,” he whispered to you. At the same time his father began to speak.

“Today the Presidential House would like to make an announcement regarding the recent engagement of my son Hendery and his fiancé y/n, daughter to an ambassador to this country.” he said, “My son would like to read a short statement to this effect.”

“I would like to express to everyone who is watching my happiness on my engagement to the love of my life, y/n. Although we come from different countries, two that have not always agreed in the past, we have still managed to find each other and that is something I think is beautiful. I hope that all of our citizens can respect out forthcoming marriage and grow to love y/n just as much as I do.” He said smiling down at you at the end.

It made you feel sick, the words he said, lies.

Lies to a nation who would love to see your country burn, just meters away from a President who would let that happen if other countries wouldn’t condemn him for it.

The President then spoke again, of how this had allowed the two nations to come to a trade agreement and therefore how it must have been fate, though he was suspicious at first, he now recognised the power of true love.

In that moment you hated him. He may have given you an opportunity for peace but only in a manner that would cause your father to suffer through losing you to him. You hated him for how he used his own son to achieve this, it made you feel more sick than anything Hendery could ever say.

Yet the conference continued, and you sat with the same fake smile on your face, trying desperately to ensure a nation loved you, to ensure it was all worth it.

The questions began, the same ones Chanmi had promised, first date, favourite things,

“I love how hardworking he is,” you said,

“She is very determined and passionate,” Hendery said.

“Where did your engagement occur” they asked,

“You won’t believe me Jungwoo,” he began, of course he knew the reporter, “but I actually proposed here in a bathroom,” a shriek of laughter went up.

“Why a bathroom?” Jungwoo the reporter replied incredulous.

“Well actually we first met in a bathroom, y/n was with Lucas having dinner with some friends and he had invited me to come join, I walked in to see the bathroom door open and y/n crawling on the floor trying to find her earring and so I helped her search, so I suppose jewellery in a bathroom is sort of a fun joke to us.”

Though the story was false you felt calmer that Hendery somehow had not lied about the location of the proposal, he had made your relationship seem not one-hundred percent fake to you, for which you were grateful.

The interview ended shortly after. You filed out of the room and back into the hallway.

“That went brilliantly,” the President asserted, your father agreeing strongly, eager to please him. You loved your father, but you hadn’t realised he was a slightly weak man until that moment.

You turned to Hendery,

“Thank you for working in the true location of the proposal, its hard to explain why but it means a lot to me.”

“I get what you mean, it is the one thing about us that is true and that does mean something,” Hendery agreed, “that’s why I worked it into that ridiculous story, also its so ridiculous no one would ever believe I was lying.”

You started to notice Chanmi hovering, it was time for you to leave.

“I suppose I will see you for the ball tomorrow then?” you said. Hendery nodded.

You were about to leave when Hendery remembered something.

“Ah yeah, here’s my phone number, in case you need anything,” he said handing you a piece of paper from his pocket.

“Thank you, and thank you for the ring, it’s beautiful.”

“I picked it myself last week… the ring not the phone number,” he said. You laughed, properly, not out of any obligation.

“Bye Hendery.”

“Bye bye future wife.”

And with that you walked to Chanmi who lead you back out of the building and away.

You cried when you got home. You were understandably upset about the whole situation but when you pulled out your phone and the number Hendery had left and texted him saying

This is y/n btw

You felt somewhat better, it wasn’t Hendery you objected to, he seemed nice and maybe in another life you would even have chosen to date him.

It was the lack of freedom and the lies that upset you, it was the smile on the Presidents face when he announced he was suddenly able to agree to the trade deal terms. You could have punched a wall.

You didn’t even want to talk to Jeno.

But when Hendery replied with a screenshot of his phone where he had saved your name as ‘fiancé from the bathroom’ with a heart, you wanted to punch the wall a little less.

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

“Just breathe in more!” Chanmi shouted as she struggled to close the final clasp on the corset of your dress.

“Could you not have found a dress that fits a normal human?” You replied, red in the face from all the breathing in. Jeno and Jaemin were in fits of laughter in the corner watching, clearly finding your struggle rather amusing.

The dress Chanmi was wrestling you into was a beautiful lilac ballgown, one of the famous colours of Hendery’s country, he was going to wear a red tie, the colour of your own nation.

With one last breath in, Chanmi managed to secure it properly and you were able to breathe again, though not at full capacity, the dress had perhaps permanently destroyed your lung functionality.

“Right shoes on, we are almost late,” Chanmi continued running around, shoving one last hairpin into your hair.

It was the night of your engagement ball, even the name of the event sounded elaborate even to you.

Your phone told you that you had about three minutes to run to the top of the ballroom, to walk down the stairs, like something out of Cinderella.

You threw Jeno your phone and started to run, Chanmi running just as fast next to you.

“If that stupid dress had fit this wouldn’t have happened, now you’re going to be red in the face,” Chanmi complained, “I will fight that tailor.”

You had never heard such anger towards a dressmaker before so you refrained from making a statement about how the dress had made you red in the face, late or not.

You reached the door that led to the ballroom balcony with about a minute to spare. Chanmi started viscously fanning you with her schedule to an extent you couldn’t help but laugh.

Chanmi was so passionate about her job it was amazing, it took your mind off your nerves. You were about to walk down the stairs with about three hundred people watching you, you had to not fall, look graceful and most importantly make them love you.

And make them think you and Hendery were in love, there was also that.

Your face had almost returned to a normal colour as Chanmi raised up her fists to cheer you on and the balconey doors opened.

It took a second for your brain to remember what to do, but finally you stepped forward. You could see the ballroom below, filled with important people in expensive clothing. But at the bottom of the steps waiting you could also see Hendery.

You kept your eyes fixed on him as you descended, he was the only person in the room you recognised except for your own parents and therefore he was the only face you could look at without passing out due to nerves.

Peace between nations rested on the important people here liking you, believing you were worth the love of the President’s son. That was a heavy burden to bear and it weighed down on your shoulders that you had to keep perfectly upright even as you reached the final steps.

Hendery’s eyes looked in awe of you. You thanked God that at least one of you was a good actor.

He walked towards you, offering out his hand as you reached the ground. You reached out to meet him, his hand touching yours softly. It was the first time you had ever had physical contact with him.

It wasn’t like a movie, sparks didn’t fly when he touched your hand, but it did reassure you slightly that he hadn’t run away yet.

He leaned down and gently pressed his lips to the top of your palm.

“You look beautiful y/n,” he said, his eyes shining due to the reflection of the chandelier light above.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you said, forcing a giggle. It wasn’t that he didn’t look handsome, in truth he was possible the most handsome man you had ever seen at that moment in his black tie suit. You were just too nervous to laugh naturally, to act naturally.

Hendery smiled back up at you as the string music began to play.

“Shall we dance?” he asked, putting his other arm around your waist and pulling you closer. Luckily as the daughter of the ambassador you had learned to dance from a young age and therefore weren’t going to embarrass yourself.

“I fancy myself quite a good dancer,” you said smiling. Hendery nodded in agreement.

“You’re quite right about that, but I have to ask, am I really just not bad looking,” he said, leaning in closer to whisper the last part. You blushed slightly,

“I’m sure you know your very handsome Hendery,” you said before leaning in yourself to whisper in his ear, “and I agree with you, leaning and whispering is a good tactic to make us seem close.”

His eyes narrowed before he chuckled.

“You’re a smart woman y/n.”

You carried on dancing until the song ended at which point the President came over.

“May I cut in?” he asked, Hendery stepped back, the smile from his face immediately gone. In contrast you plastered a fake smile onto yours.

“It would be my honour,” you affirmed, when really the thought of dancing with such a horrendous man repulsed you. Physically the President was almost attractive as his son just many years older, yet you hated him so much so just the thought of touching him made you want to flee.

The music started up and you began to waltz.

“You and Hendery looked happy dancing,” he remarked.

“We get on reasonably well,” you replied simply. It wasn’t a lie.

“That pleases me to hear, I wouldn’t want to make either of you unhappy.” He also didn’t seem to be lying, and maybe he wasn’t but he was still willing to risk his own son’s happiness to make a point and so every word he said to you was like poison.

“Your son is a very smart and kind person, I am sure we will be a happy couple.” You said it because you had to make him happy but you did also wish it would be true. You hoped one day you and Hendery could be happy together for real.

You just had to fall in love with him first.

You danced until the end of the song, then you danced with about five state officials before you finally had to sit down. You were good at wearing heels but dancing for such an extended period of time was tiring.

You watched Hendery as you sat, dancing with the wives of the officials, his face smiling casually. He was instantly likeable just like on TV, yet you still didn’t believe he was really like that all of the time. You still wanted to find out if he had any cracks.

Lost in thought you didn’t notice Hendery standing in front of you, his hair slightly sweaty from all the dancing.

“Why are you sitting alone?” he asked.

“I don’t know many people here and I’ve always been a pretty solitary person, symptomatic of having to be guarded twenty-four seven,” you said, nodding back to where Jeno and Jaemin were at the edge of the room only metres away.

“Well lonely lady, we need to make a toast,” he said offering his arm for you to take. You stood up, the pain of your shoes starting up once again and linked your arm with his.

“We can’t all be sociable Mr. Perfect,” you joked back. Hendery looked away grinning,

“That’s not how I come across is it?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know, you always seem perfect, dancing just now, in all your TV interviews..”

He cut you off,

“You watch me on TV?” he asked, seeming genuinely surprised.

“Don’t think to highly of yourself, I can’t help that you are always on the television, you’re the joy of a nation, there is whole magazines that basically only write about you and Lucas.”

Hendery chuckled again.

“And now they will only write about you and me,” he said. You had reached the top of the balcony where a member of staff signalled for the music to stop.

Hendery had just stepped forward to speak when it happened. At first you couldn’t be sure, all you heard was a loud bang and the sound of people screaming, then another bang occurred and Hendery let go of your arm, grabbed your hand and started to run pulling you behind him. You saw a group of men start to chase you up the stairs.

Your feet were in the most pain you had ever felt from wearing shoes but you kept running behind Hendery, holding onto his hand as tightly as you could, not knowing where he was running to but knowing that if you stopped the men behind could potentially try to kill you.

Hendery suddenly stopped by a door and flung it open, letting go of your hand to shut it quickly and locked it as soon as you were inside.

You opened your mouth to speak, Hendery shook his head raising his finger to his mouth indicating you should say silent. He turned the light off and got his phone torch out. He seemed to be searching for something but you couldn’t help him because you didn’t know what it was.

Seconds later you saw him lift some of the bathroom tiles that were fixed together to create a secret trapdoor. He pressed his thumb to the top corner of the tile which flashed green. Despite your fear you couldn’t help be impressed by the James Bond level tech this house seemed to have.

Hendery lifted the door up and motioned for you to climb in, you stepped back into the hole, your feet finding a ladder and you began to climb down as fast as you could, Hendery following, he managed to close the door just as you heard people attempt to kick the bathroom door down.

The ladder led down to what seemed to be a secret bunker. There was a final door which Hendery opened this time with his eye. The bunker was a small room, it had a bed and bottles of water but not much else.

Hendery sighed out once he had shut the outer door. You slumped down on the bed, your back leaning against the wall. Hendery walked over and handed you a cup of water.

“You can talk here, it’s soundproof,” he said but you were too shell-shocked to get any words out.

The first thing you could clearly think about was the pain in your feet, the running had caused your feet to start bleeding, something you noticed as you pulled the shoes off.

You ripped part of your dress and put the water on it, using it to wipe the blood from your feet.

Hendery sat down next to you, almost as shocked as you were, even if he was trying his best to hide it.

A bomb must have gone off, was your first thought, the ball had been attacked, probably in protest. You felt hot tears fall down your face at the realisation. Your parents had been down there, you didn’t know if they were safe.

Hendery seemed to snap out of his own thoughts, staring at you with concern. At least he wasn’t stupid enough to ask if you were okay.

You wiped the tears from your eyes furiously,

“Sorry,” you said, “I’m not usually such a baby.”

Your words seemed to cause Hendery more concern.

“Given the situation I don’t think crying makes you a baby,” he said. You shrugged.

“It’s not the first attack on my life in this country,” you replied, which was true, it was the fourth. People on both sides really did hate the other.

“It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve… You have the right to be upset, to be scared, those are all normal emotions.”

“You’re not crying, why should I,” you countered. In any other situation you thought Hendery probably would have laughed.

“I don’t have the right, it was my father who got us both into this situation.”

“Your father,” you said, “not you.” The thought Hendery saw the situation as any way his fault, made you feel so much worse. You couldn’t stop your tears from flowing silently down your face.

Hendery looked at you with sad eyes, before he shuffled closer to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, bringing your head down onto his shoulder as he held you.

“I don’t ever object to my father, I’m not any better,” he mused sadly.

“I could have said no,” you whispered in reply, “but I didn’t in the hope that marring you would stop attacks like this, not against me but against my people and against yours. I like to believe Hendery that what we are doing is not in fear of your father, but creating peace in spite of your father.”

“Why has it ended with your cheering me up?” Hendery said, staring down at you.

“We are helping each other, a team for life right? You have a right to be scared an upset.” You quoted him on the last part.

“Are your feet okay?” Hendery asked, suddenly worried again. You looked down at your cut feet, the bleeding mostly stopped.

“I don’t think it’s life threatening.”

Hendery chuckled.

A moment later you heard the door bang. You both stood up, your worry for your feet gone again. Hendery held your hand, pushing you to stand behind him protectively, the door banged again before opening, your nails digging into the skin of Hendery’s hand.

“Are you okay y/n?!” you heard Jeno’s voice. You sighed with relief when you saw him standing at the door with Sicheng right next to him.

You ran over and threw your arms around him.

“What happened? What’s happening?” you heard Hendery ask Sicheng.

“Terrorists, protesting the trade agreement and demanding war, two bombs, luckily not strong but there was still five dead and twelve in critical condition.” Sicheng reported.

“Who, do you know who is dead?” you said letting go of Jeno and turning to face Sicheng.

“Nobody you would know Miss y/n,” he said, “Both of your parents are fine, your father has suffered a few minor injuries but nothing worrying,” he added. You breathed out a sigh of relief, something you felt terrible for given the tragedy.

Sicheng and Jeno led you both back out into the open and along to where both of your parents were waiting. Your father had a sling around his neck and the President had a large cut on his cheek, he had clearly been hit by a bit of shrapnel.

The President came over and started to apologise as your mother ran over to hug you.

“Hendery took me to an escape shelter,” you explained to her as she sobbed into your chest. You could tell she wanted to say she wished she had never let this marriage go ahead.

“I hope that what happened today doesn’t change your mind about anything?” was all the President asked. Hendery looked like he wanted to punch him, but his mouth stayed shut and he didn’t hit anyone.

You managed to remove yourself from your mother’s grip.

“It only reinforces the need for this marriage to go ahead.” You said.

“Then we think it is best for you to move in here for safety reasons. You can still have two of your own bodyguards but we feel the added protection would help. As you have seen we have many precautions in place in times of emergency.”

“Obviously you can have your own room,” Hendery’s mother added, “We can even work together with Chanmi to decorate it the way you like.”

Your heart dropped, you had forgotten about Chanmi, though Hendery’s mother mentioning her must have meant she was fine.

“Is she okay, Chanmi?” you asked to nobody in particular.

“She just had to get stitches in her arm,” Sicheng said, “Not the bomb but she was stabbed by an assailant looking for you.”

You wanted to bs sick, all of these people hurt because of your fake marriage. You put your hand to your head, almost falling over as your legs wobbled. Hendery managed to catch you, helping you stand straight, not letting go of you.

“Can we discuss this tomorrow father, I think y/n needs to rest, this has been a rather traumatising day,” he said.

Before you could protest that you were fine his father nodded.

“Let her sleep in your bed until we can get a room ready for y/n tomorrow, you can sleep in Sicheng’s room,” he said. Your parents didn’t protest. So Hendery helped you walk from the room, Jeno following behind, now with Jaemin and Sicheng.

“Five’s company,” you joked. Hendery didn’t laugh or say anything in return, his mouth set in a firm line. He didn’t say anything at all until you reached his room.

His room was at the end of a long corridor filled with doors, it really was a massive house. He opened the door and walked in with you, shutting it behind him, the three guards waiting outside.

He sat you down on his bed that was perfectly made. You stared around his room, all of it neat and tidy, you hadn’t expected otherwise. He had some photos of Lucas and him hanging on the wall and one of him with his parents.

He had an Xbox under the tv and a bowl full of keys to expensive cars, you thought it was funny how the things he liked were such stereotypical boy things.

The one thing in the room that surprised you was his bedside tables. One had a stack of books by the lamp, but the other had a picture of you and him, the one of only a few that existed, taken on one of your visits to his house in order for a press release later on.

Hendery saw you staring at it.

“That one was my favourite, so I told my mother she couldn’t give it to the press, something has to be sacred to our fake marriage.”

The word fake hurt to hear, even if it was true. You really wished you had met Hendery under any other circumstance but this.

“Get some sleep, we can talk in the morning, I’m really sorry all this has happened.” Hendery said, turning to leave. You grabbed his arm softly to stop him.

“Hendery,” you said standing up, “thank you for saving us,” you said with a sad smile, “apart from Jeno you’re the only person to ever save me from an attack.”

Hendery bit his lip,

“Of all the things that I wish made me equal Jeno to you, I really wish it hadn’t been having to save you from being killed,” he said it somewhat jokingly but you knew he had said it in earnest.

You stepped towards Hendery and wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I wish we had met in another life, in another way,” you began, your words partly muffled by his shirt against your lips, “I don’t know you well, but I think you are a person I will be proud to marry,” you moved your head back to look up at him.

“I hope you’re right,” he said before wrapping his arms around you in return. You stood like that for a moment longer before Hendery let go.

“Try and sleep,” he said, before leaving, the door shutting softly behind him.

You woke up from nightmare after nightmare through the night. You stared at the photo of you and Hendery in the frame, you looked so happy even if the happiness was fake. You finally fell asleep soundly dreaming of a life in which you and Hendery were truly happy.

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

You woke up to the light shining through the gap in the large curtains as you realised you had forgotten to close them properly.

It was your second week in your room at the President’s House and yet you still weren’t used to it. You heard a knock at the door, the repeated nature of which told you it was Chanmi. She had come back to work shortly after being released from hospital even though you had begged her to take a month or so off.

She was unfortunately not a month off type of person. She walked in without waiting for your answer, sighing when she saw you still hadn’t gotten out of bed.

“You know you have your first live TV interview today, get up!” she instructed. You laid back down pulling the duvet back over your head.

You still weren’t really able to think straight all the emotions of the last month were still processing in your mind, you didn’t know how you felt never mind how to pretend to convey how your pretend self felt on national television.

“It’s just one interview, I’m sure Hendery can do all the talking on the attack related questions,” she said clearly trying to cheer you up but you didn’t feel any better. You felt bad that the explanation seemed to rest on Hendery’s shoulders by default, you were sad that you were the cause of the attack and worst of all you knew you had to tell a whole country they shouldn’t attack you because you loved Hendery when that wasn’t really true.

While you had grown closer on that night, you hadn’t properly talked to him since. He was always busy with work, he worked for his father in his free time, training for a high up government position.

You had spoken to him briefly at meals but you really just didn’t know what to say to him, how to talk to him when at the same meals he agreed with everything his father said about politics, most of which you silently disagreed with.

Politics wasn’t everything but in a political marriage it meant a lot.

So you had been left alone with your thoughts mostly, you had gotten a few lessons from the publicity about how to deal with the media and lessons on the countries culture but it wasn’t really anything you hadn’t learned as the ambassadors daughter.

“I’ve thought a lot about what I want to say, I think I can really help if I speak about the attack,” you said to Chanmi. You had spent a lot of this free time thinking, thinking about how to save the political marriage, about how to save everyone around you from the fallout it would cause.

“Well then even better,” Chanmi replied smiling but the apprehension on her face at your words was clear.

So an hour later you found yourself knocking on the door of Hendery’s study.

“Come in,” he called out, you turned the door handle and pushed the door open, “I was just about to come and find you y/n,” he said.

“I was thinking about the interview,” you began, “I know the plan is for you to speak about the incident and ask that people respect me and so on, but I really think it would help if I speak for myself.”

Hendery didn’t say anything which also wasn’t an objection so you continued.

“I agreed to this marriage to avoid conflict, I don’t want to create it, I don’t want to just wait around carrying this weight of the decision I have made without even being able to speak myself on it. I want to take responsibility for the weight of my own actions.”

Hendery stood up from his chair and walked around the desk leaning back to half sit on the front so he wasn’t talking to you from so far away.

“You are braver than I will ever be,” he said, “if you want to speak for yourself then of course you can.”

“I don’t think being responsible for my choices is brave, it’s a requirement to me. You were prepared to take responsibility for our marriage too, I don’t see why you think it’s brave,” you said.

Hendery looked up at the ceiling, twisting his pen back and forth between his fingers.

“I thought if I was going to be responsible for one choice I made in my life it was going to be marrying you.”

“How so?” you asked, taking a seat in the armchair at the side of the room.

“I see how you look at me at dinner when I agree with my father and the atrocious opinions he has. You hide it well but I can tell. I agree with my father even though I know he’s wrong and that’s partly because I didn’t know how wrong he was until he forced this marriage. I realised that he had been manipulating me my whole life. He always used to say the decisions he made were for the best, for the people for me but when he made us get married I finally understood that he was just playing games.”

“Then why do you agree with him still?”

“Maybe I am a coward, maybe I still believe that he wants whats right deep down but I don’t really believe either of those to answers. I just don’t see the benefit in disagreeing with him.” He explained.

“If you did then maybe he would question his own opinions,” you suggested, “hearing it from his own son.”

“His own son who he would marry off just to win a political game. I can’t win against my father but if I obey him I can try and make some good, marrying you will do good in the long term, even if it is part of his game, so that is what I choose to be responsible for because I believe in the power of it.”

You could hear the pain in Hendery’s voice as he spoke but also the determination. You started to understand him a bit more.

“Maybe he wins the short game, but we will win the long game,” you said, Hendery looked about to ask you to elaborate but you didn’t let him, “Interview time,” you got up and opened the door, “time to pretend you love me.”

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

You looked in the mirror just before you went to sit next to Hendery on the set, your makeup was perfect, your hair done, you looked amazing. You had gotten rid of the flowery dresses that you loved for this interview though, today you wore a tailored suit, today you were going to show the country you meant business.

You sat down uncomfortably closer to Hendery but you knew it would look weird if you had sat half a foot away.

The interviewer was a woman who didn’t seem to like you very much as she scowled at you but you didn’t let it affect you. You answered all her questions about your ‘love story’ and smiled up at Hendery as you told the gushing details.

“So what do you say to people who disagree with this relationship, clearly after the terrible act of terrorism that occurred at your engagement party it would be better for everyone if you just broke up?”

“We will not be intimidated by haters or people who write mean comments online or even despicable criminals. We love each other and we will get married. We feel our love conveys how it is possible for both our nations to come to love each other also so that senseless violence will no longer occur, to us our love is about more than just us, it is our love for each other yes, but also everyone on both sides of the border.” You answered.

“How lovely,” the reporter said with a fake smile, “well I think we know one way to appease the viewers,” she said.

“And what is that, we would be happy to oblige,” Hendery said, reminding you exactly of all the times you watched him on TV. He was too perfect on TV you found it unnerving now you had started to get to know him.

“a kiss between the happy couple to be,” she grinned. If you hadn’t known it was impossible you would have thought she knew your marriage was fake. You tried not to look alarmed, Hendery didn’t seem to be phased.

“Is that proper?” you asked, trying to see if you could wiggle your way out.

“It’s the twenty-first century I’m sure it’s fine,” the reporter said. Before you could continue to argue Hendery leaned in and placed a quick peck on your lips.

“How sweet,’ the reporter cooed, “that’s all we have time for today, thank you to Hendery and y/n for joining us, see you next Tuesday for an interview with everyone’s favourite chef.”

Your face burned red and when you looked over you saw the same blush come over Hendery’s face just not to the same degree. He thanked the reporter before grabbing your hand and pulling you up. He led you out into the open air where cameras flashed as you walked quickly towards the car.

Hendery wrapped his arm around you pushing past the reports until Jeno could open the car door allowing both of you to climb in. Once they had gotten in the row of seats behind and all the doors were shut you breathed out a large sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Hendery said quickly, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable I just…” You shook your head.

“No its fine, I’m not mad at you I just struggle with the situation as you already know.”

Considering Sicheng, Jeno and the driver were all also in the car neither of you took the conversation any further until you had gotten out of the car and were standing in the empty kitchen drinking water.

“I don’t want you to think I don’t like you,” you said to Hendery, “you’re a really nice person and if we had met under any other circumstance…”

It was Hendery’s turn to shake his head,

“You don’t need to explain.”

“I want to. You told me your feelings earlier I will return the favour.” You took a sip of your water, your mouth feeling dry all of a sudden.

“I always knew I would end up marrying for political advantage, I never let myself like boys, not that I had the chance to meet any, I just thought maybe I would have a pick of three or something.” You stopped yourself, “Sorry again I really don’t mean that as an insult to you.”

“No I get what you’re saying…” he thought for a second, “That wasn’t your first kiss, oh I’m so sorry if it was… live on TV as well.”

You laughed.

“Don’t worry not quite the first, I kissed Jeno once actually a few years ago to see if we had feelings for each other, we realised very quickly we didn’t, we were mostly just bored I guess.”

You knew the same wasn’t true for Hendery, while he wasn’t as bad as Lucas he still had a reputation for girls leaving his hotel room at 3am. While you had abstained from romance all together, he had gone the other way and thrust himself into meaningless sex. You understood his choice even if it wasn’t the one you made.

“So you’ve never had a boyfriend?” Hendery asked, he wasn’t judging he was just curious.

“Nope, I’ve never liked a boy and so maybe that’s why all this with you is a bit harder but it doesn’t mean I’m mad you kissed me, you had no choice and we are engaged after all.”

Hendery took a few steps towards you, putting his drink down on the table. His eyes searching your face.

“Would you be mad if I kissed you now, when I did have a choice?” He asked. You thought about to for a second, while you weren’t in love with Hendery you did find him attractive and he was a caring person and you were going to spend your life married to him. So you made a choice.

“No, I wouldn’t be mad,” you said slowly, your heart beginning to beat faster. Hendery took two more steps forward, he reached over and took your drink out from your hand placing it down on the table.

He smiled,

“I think I like you y/n,” he said, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips and before you knew it he was kissing you. Tentatively at first, clearly trying not to overwhelm you but as you began to kiss him back more urgently he followed suit, his hands tangling in your hair as your own arms slid round his waist.

It was different to when you had kissed Jeno, it was so much more enjoyable, you realised that was because you liked Hendery. It felt like your whole body was on fire as his tongue played with yours gently, when he bit down slightly on your lip you let out a soft moan causing your ears to burn red.

But it didn’t dissuade Hendery, instead he smiled into the kiss, before going back to kissing you just as passionately before, pressing you up against the kitchen wall.

A few minutes later he pulled away.

“I think if I don’t stop now we will end up somewhere we don’t wanna go just yet, we do have a lifetime,” he joked, pecking your lips again.

“I think I like you too,” you said to him, your cheeks still red as he beamed at you.

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

You started to chat more to Hendery, meeting him in the garden after dinner sometimes, seeing if you were able to hide from Jeno and Sicheng, something you quickly realised was impossible.

You also quickly realised how stressful Hendery’s life was. While your father’s job had isolated you it had never been something you personally had to be involved with. Hendery’s work for his father was hard, especially on top of the university work you still both had, even if the professors were emailing it for safety reasons.

You had arranged to meet Hendery in the garden after lunch but he never arrived. You wondered around the house looking for him, eventually spotting Sicheng standing outside the library.

“Have you seen Hendery?” you enquired, Sicheng nodded his head lightly.

“He’s working in there, I guess he forgot to meet you… I wouldn’t take it personally the President is expecting a lot from him lately.” You truly felt bad for Hendery and how he was treated. All the President expected from you was to learn to sit straight, something you already learned at the age of four. The misogyny of the upper classes.

“Tell him he has to stop working by six, the doctors’ orders,” you said, “tell him to find me in the kitchen!” and before Sicheng could argue you had already raced back down the corridor to sort some things out.

You asked the people who worked in the kitchen where you could find the ingredients to make cookies, the immediately offered to make some for you but you assured them making them yourself was the point.

You stashed the cookie ingredients in the family fridge before racing off again. You had hours to set up your plan but you wanted it to be perfect so you wasted no time. If you weren’t allowed to be involved in state affairs you could at least support your fiancé who was.

Only a few doors down from your room was a little sitting room with a sofa and a tv that was seldom used. In the whole month you had spent in the house you had never seen another person in there.

One of the reasons setting everything up took so long was because you weren’t sure where things in the house were kept. You could have asked someone but you wanted it to be a secret between just you and Hendery.

So when Jeno asked why you were forcing him to run after you like a maniac you refused to give a reason.

You eventually found a cupboard where spare blankets and pillows were kept, chucking as many as possible on top of Jeno whilst picking up just as many yourself.

On the sitting room floor you laid out all the blankets and pillows until it looked as cosy as anything.

Working out how the TV worked was a half hour task in itself, it was so modern you weren’t sure how it worked or how the remote worked but eventually you found Netflix.

Sooner than you expected it you were standing back in the kitchen waiting for Hendery. He arrived not soon after at six-fifteen, his face slightly pale and a tired look on his face.

“Sorry I didn’t come meet you in the garden earlier I was just so busy…” you cut him off, placing a finger over his lips.

“No apologies, just fun relaxing activities,” you explained, pulling the cookie ingredients back out of the fridge.

It turned out neither of you had any clue how to bake but cookies were simple. Flour ended up everywhere and you couldn’t help but think how cute Hendery looked as he smiled, butter smudged on his cheek.

“We have to cook them for ten minutes, so they are still gooey,” you said, going over to the sink and grabbing a cloth, “your face is dirty come here.”

Hendery walked over to you and crouched down slightly so you could clean his face, you chuckled at how cute he was.

“All better,” you said, wiping the butter away, your eyes lingering on his cheek. Hendery caught your gaze and smiled.

“Come here you have something on your cheek too,” he said, you were confused you had checked in the reflection of the oven just a minute ago and there hadn’t been anything.

Hendery leaned in closer to your face before placing a quick kiss on your cheek. Your face blushed slightly pink as Hendery stood up straight again grinning.

“Oh maybe there was nothing there after all,” he said. You shook your head in mock disapproval, saved from your shy embarrassment by the noise of the cooker beeping.

You carefully removed the cookies from the oven and slid them into a bowl. Hendery reached in to take one but you swatted his hand away.

“You will burn yourself if you touch it now, and anyway they are for later.”

Hendery seemed confused. You didn’t bother explaining, you picked up the cookie bowl in one hand and took Hendery’s hand in your other and starting leading him to your blanket extravaganza.

You had gotten some staff to leave actual dinner in the room, you hadn’t been confident enough in either of your skills to make a whole dinner, it probably wouldn’t have had the light-hearted fun vibe you were after if you ended up with raw chicken.

“Pick a Netflix movie,” you said as you settled down into the blankets, eating your food as Hendery found a movie to watch.

By halfway through the film both of you had turned your focus away from eating and solely to the movie. But without the food to think about you began to notice more how close Hendery was sitting next to you.

He seemed to be slowly moving closer and closer to you, his hand resting nearer to yours by the minute. So when the movie reached a slightly scary part you felt no shame and hiding your face in Hendery’s arm.

“You don’t need to be scared,” he said, you glared at him jokingly.

“Says the man who is scared of frogs,” you teased back. Hendery’s mouth opened wide,

“How did you, how, what?” he asked.

“I’ve been asking around about you,” you said in your best attempt to flirt. Your isolated lifestyle hadn’t given you much practise.

“You’re cute,” he observed, looking down at you, taking the opportunity to place his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him, “thank you for doing this,” he said over the sound of the movie playing in the background.

“If you ever need a break just call me up, I’m nonstop fun,” you said, immediately regretting how the statement had come across more sexual than it had in your head. Hendery just grinned.

“But seriously, I can tell your stressed and so if you ever want to talk about how stressed you are or just get things of your chest, I’m willing to listen.”

Hendery sighed lightly. He didn’t speak for a while, his hand fiddling with the corner of one of the blankets, his muscles slightly tensed.

“If… If you would be happier not marrying me, I want you to tell me, I will talk to my father, I will find a way. You’re too kind and beautiful a person y/n to be stuck marrying someone for politics. I want you to be happy.”

His words shocked you but you couldn’t help smiling but not for the reason Hendery thought. You wriggled out from under his arm moving to sit directly in front of him, your legs crossed opposite where he sat, hugging his legs.

“Meeting you has been the one thing that has seemed like real life to me, even if this is an orchestrated marriage, The fact that you would be willing to talk to your father to make me happy, is the exact reason I am willing to try marrying you. Even if there is another way, I still choose this way.”

Hendery still looked conflicted.

“But what if, in the future, you don’t feel the same way, you regret making this choice, choosing me?” he asked.

“While I still don’t consider this marriage a choice, doesn’t mean I wouldn’t chose to date you under different circumstances. And you are correct, I cannot see the future and someday I may not feel how I feel now. But I know two things that are true. One is that your father is unlikely to listen to you no matter what and so this marriage is still necessary. Two, right now the thought of marrying you doesn’t scare me, it makes me somewhat happy, even if the circumstance doesn’t. Even if marriage for us is like dating for others, I chose right now to take responsibility for not even letting you try to convince your father.”

You looked straight into Hendery’s eyes. The hope that you saw appear in his eyes was enough to make you want to cry. This marriage to Hendery, the chance to make you happy, it was his hope, the only hope he felt he had of doing something positive.

Your marriage to Hendery was going to bring good to the world, to his world and your own. You knew that was something to be proud of, you knew that you wanted to love him.

You kissed his lips briefly before pulling away again.

“You should sleep,” you encouraged him, “you are handsome but tired looking.”

“It would be a better sleep if you slept with me,” he joked with a wink. You pushed him lightly on the shoulder.

“Whilst I may have kissed someone before you, I have not shared a bed with a guy before and will not be starting today,’ you asserted. Hendery nodded, getting up,

“Well my door is always open, I’m a great at cuddles.”

He leaned down and kissed your forehead softly.

“Goodnight y/n,” he said, “I will sleep better dreaming of you.”

You blushed in the darkness of the room as he walked away. The man was to charming for his own good.

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

You saw it on the news first,

“Breaking story, five tourists from our neighbouring country have been arrested on suspicions of undisclosed crimes, they are currently being held by the state government, a decision that is being viewed with mixed reactions.”

You stood up, your first instinct to go to Hendery’s study and ask him if he knew what was going on.

But when you tried to leave your room you found it looked from the outside, something you hadn’t known was possible. You began to bang on the door, shouting at whoever had locked it on the other side, but to no avail.

You eventually sat back down and turned the news back on, having no other real plan of action. The news revealed that the tourists had supposedly robbed a bank but it was an accusation you were very suspicious of.

You tried ringing Hendery but every time the phone went straight to voicemail and you didn’t bother leaving a message. You tried searching the internet but you didn’t have a 3G signal and the Wi-Fi seemed to be broken.

You rang your mother next to ask if she knew anything, she said that all she knew was that there had been no bank robbery and they were being held as political leverage. You wanted to scream, you picked up the closet item to you, a shoe, and threw it as hard against the wall as possible.

At the same time you heard the lock on the door turn and Sicheng enter,

“Are you all right?” he asked, “I heard a bang.” You couldn’t believe Hendery’s personal guard was the one keeping you locked up.

“Why can’t I leave?” you asked, “Why won’t Hendery pick up my calls?”

“The President doesn’t want to risk the chance you could talk to the press… as for Hendery I don’t know… as soon as he heard what was about to happen he insisted I tell Jeno we swapped guarding duty for the day.”

After seeing you were okay Sicheng left again, locking the door once he was outside. You wanted to believe that Hendery played no role but the changing of the guards so that Jeno couldn’t let you out was suspicious.

A few hours later Sicheng opened the door and passed you some food into the room but you felt too sick to eat. What was the point of the marriage if it didn’t even keep your country people safe.

Finally your phone rang, Hendery was calling you back. You wanted to ignore it out of spite but you knew the situation was more important than that.

“What the fuck Hendery,” was all you said when you picked up.

“I’m sorry,” he replied.

“Don’t be sorry, just explain to me what the actual fuck is going on here.”

“My father will let them go… he just needs your father to agree to one of the more controversial trade terms. I asked him not to do this, I really tried but,”

“You didn’t have to get Sicheng to guard me,” you countered. Hendery paused for a second.

“I… I just don’t want my father to get angry at you, Jeno would have let you leave and then he would have been fired and my father… he would have made life harder for you and your country,” he tried to explain.

“I’m not seven Hendery I can make my own choices. Your choice to ensure I’m locked up means you don’t trust I won’t do anything stupid any more than your father would.”

You were really angry, to an extent you understood Hendery’s motivations, you understood he was trying to help you. Yet you also disagreed with his methods and you were angry he didn’t trust you.

“I’m smart enough to know that talking badly about your father to the press wouldn’t help achieve what we are trying to with this marriage…” you didn’t have the energy to argue with him.

“I’ll send Jeno back,” Hendery said, his voice barely a whisper, “I never want to upset you y/n that will never be my goal, I know your intelligent, probably more so than me. My father is a scary man and I let my fear of him overpower my trust in you and for that I really do apologise.”

“If you look into your own heart, and you find nothing wrong there, what is there to worry about? What is there to fear?” you replied.

“Is it really time to quote Confucius?” Hendery asked. You smiled to yourself.

“I was just proving I really am intelligent, and anyway I mean it, you are a good person Hendery, trust me, yourself, our marriage will outlast your father and then maybe things can change.”

“My closest ally on the advisory board thinks they will release the prisoners tomorrow and call the situation a misunderstanding, just wait until then,”

“Goodnight,” you said before hanging up the phone. You were still angry, but not at Hendery. You had never made a habit of disliking people never mind hating them, but the President was a man you really hated.

The next afternoon at around 4pm the tourists were released and a short statement was made about a cultural misunderstanding. One the President hoped would not be repeated in the future after the joining of the two nations.

You wanted to stab him through the TV, but why waste a perfectly good TV.

You heard a small knock at the door, you thought it was Jeno telling you that you could come out now, roam free, inside the prison of a house.

Instead stood Hendery, eyes as tired as ever, his face as defeated as your own. He said nothing, merely walked over to where you were perched at the end of your bed and sat down.

He opened his mouth to speak but you shook your head.

“Nothing we can say makes it better, so it’s better to say nothing at all,” you said, before wrapping your arms around him and pulling him towards you. For those few minutes where you just hugged him you thought of nothing. You worried about nothing, you just felt the peace that holding him close brought you.

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

“You look beautiful,” Jaemin said to you, you think it was the nicest comment he had ever said to you, it was your wedding day after all, “I’m still sad you wouldn’t let me be a bridesmaid.”

You resisted the temptation to chuck some hairpins at him. You hadn’t thought your bodyguards would have looked good in dresses so you had convinced Hendery to make them the other three of his five groomsmen along with Sicheng and Lucas.

“I think Chanmi looks prettier in pink,” you replied, which was only followed by more protests of ‘”she’s wearing blue, not pink,”- a technicality.

Speaking of Chanmi,

“Five minutes,” she called out. You pushed your earrings in, your hands trembling slightly as you got up and saw yourself standing in front of the mirror dressed in white. The gown was beautiful, expensive, everything you could have dreamed of.

You felt so sick. Jeno walked over and grabbed your hand. He was going to walk in front of you the whole way with Chanmi, the male bridesmaid Jaemin wished he could be.

Chanmi held your other hand and squeezed tightly, reassuring you as they led you down the stairs and out to the car in which your father was waiting. Jeno sat in the front as Chanmi gathered up your dress, making sure it all fit in the car before sitting down beside you.

“What a beautiful day for it,” your father remarked. You nodded back but didn’t open your mouth to speak, you thought you would throw up if you did.

The car drove on in silence, you clutched at some vow cards Chanmi had prepared for you. Reaching over and rolling down the window you chucked them out.

“I’ll just wing it,” you said to her horrified glance, but she never let go of your hand.

The car pulled up outside the church moments later, you could hear the low murmur of the guests inside as Jeno opened the door and helped you out.

Sicheng who was waiting by the door for the rest of the groomsmen looked less anxious to see they had actually arrived just in front of you. They headed inside the church as you tried your best not to hyperventilate outside on the church steps.

“Being your best friend has been my honour,” Jeno said to you, leaning down to kiss your cheek. Through your panic you still managed to look up at him confused.

“You will always be my best friend, getting fake married doesn’t change that,” you replied. Jeno held both of your hands,

“You are not getting fake married though, it may not be a marriage of love but it is a real marriage and for that reason I really hope for you, that he becomes your best friend, that he can take my place and support you like I always have. We never loved each other like that but I hope he loves you like that because you will always be my almost sister and I love you. Don’t be afraid, you’re saving a nation, be proud, and love him too,” he said, a tear fell from your cheek, “no crying, someone worked hard on that makeup.”

You let go of his hands and hugged him.

“I love you too almost bro,” you said as the wedding march began to play and some flower girls that you didn’t even know entered through the doors. Chanmi ran over and gave you a quick hug.

“You will rule the world one day y/n,” she laughed as she let go, handing Jeno a bouquet as they both walked in after the flower girls.

Just you and your father were left, you wiped the tear from your cheek and walked over to him, putting a smile on your face. You could tell he was already sad, you didn’t want to make it worse.

“Time to get married,” you whispered, linking your arm with his and staring onwards.

The doors opened and you stared down the aisle in front of you. You saw Jaemin, Renjun and Chenle standing next to Sicheng and Lucas on the stage. You saw the reverend, you saw your mother, Jeno and Chanmi sitting in the front row, you saw the president and his wife sitting on the other side.

Finally your eyes focused on him as you got closer, step by step.

The sickness you had once felt, gone, the moment you locked eyes with him. His eyes held the same trepidation as yours but the shone through the church as he looked at you.

Your father let go of your arm, kissing your check, before you took Hendery’s hands instead.

The reverend read out a whole spiel but you weren’t really listening, you just stared up at Hendery, trying your best to focus on him and not falling over.

“Today, I promise you this: I will laugh with you in times of joy, and comfort you in times of sorrow. I will share in your dreams and support you as you strive to achieve your goals. I will listen to you with compassion and understanding, and speak to you with encouragement. Let us be partners, and friends, today and all of the days that follow,” Hendery said. His words were the first ones you had really heard.

You took a sharp breath inwards realising it was your own turn to speak.

“I had prepared something to say, but I wanted to speak from the heart instead. I promise to do my best to love you and live harmoniously with you as long as we both shall live, to take on the challenges life gives us together. I hope that our marriage can serve as a sign of peace and that the world can feel compassion as deeply as I know you feel it,” you said.

“Do you, y/n y/l/n, take Hendery Wong to be your lawfully wedded husband,” the reverend asked,

“I do,” you replied, your voice thankfully not shaking.

“Do you, Hendery Wong, take y/n y/l/n to be your lawfully wedded wife,”

“I do,” he said, staring down at you with a smile.

“I know pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride,” he said and so Hendery leaned down, kissing you. Only for a few seconds, there were children present, but it was enough to make you blush.

You pulled Hendery into a hug and whispered in his ear,

“I wish I could have chosen to marry you,” you said. Hendery shook his head, still smiling for the crowd.

“I’m feel lucky to get to marry you y/n, whatever the circumstance,” he said, causing you to genuinely smile. Hendery let go from your hug and threw your clasped hands in the air as you walked back down the aisle and out of the church.

The reception was actually quite dull to start off with, you had to greet many political figures, most of whom you didn’t personally know, there was also the ordeal of extended family which hardly ever went well for anyone.

It got a bit better when Lucas and Jaemin got so drunk they started to perform karaoke standing on tables as Chenle cried with laughter watching.

Your first dance with Hendery had been sweet but after that you and Hendery had mostly decided to sit at the side together, exhausted by the whole affair.

By about midnight your head was resting on Hendery’s shoulder as you began to doze off, partly from tiredness, partly from alcohol. Hendery chuckled at how cute you looked.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he said, about to pick you up when you insisted you could walk. Hendery put his arm around your waist, supporting your drunk figure as he lead you to the elevator. You walked along the corridor before he pulled out the key card, letting you both into the presidential suite.

It had two bedrooms and so he walked you towards the bigger one, helping you sit down on the bed.

Chanmi and Sicheng had made sure you both had stuff there and so she had left you a pair of pyjamas to get changed into. Hendery handed them to you and turned around so he didn’t see you getting changed.

“I can’t do the zip,” you complained, tapping Hendery on the shoulder.

“oh yeah right sure,” he said, turning back around and unzipping it for you, blushing when you pulled the dress down before he could turn around again.

“Don’t be silly, we are married,” you said, making fun of him in your drunken haze.

“Doesn’t mean I cant still respect you,” he said, “I’ll go get changed myself and come back in a sec okay?” he said to which you nodded. You took your underwear off and replaced them with the white satin pyjamas Chanmi had left.

Hendery walked back in with a matching pair. You went and brushed your teeth together before Hendery urged you to climb into bed.

“Goodnight, y/n,” he said about to leave before you sat up and stopped him.

“Married couples sleep in the same bed,” you protested.

“You’re drunk, y/n, I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“Snuggling is definitely fine,” you said, something which Hendery struggled to argue with. He put his phone down on the bed side table and shuffled in beside you, wrapping his arms around you.

“I think I could get used to this,” he said, his chin resting on your shoulder. You rolled over to face him.

“You have a good face,” you said. Hendery burst out laughing,

“You’re so cute,”

“Can I kiss you?” you asked.

“So this was your tactic then,” Hendery laughed back, placing a small kiss on your lips, “try and sleep y/n,”

Your face became sad,

“Do you not want to sleep with me?” you asked.

“I’m here, I’m going to sleep right next to you,” he said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. You shook your head.

“No sleep with me sleep with me,” you clarified, your words slurring together. Hendery’s eyebrows furrowed. When he saw your sad expression through the darkness he smiled slightly, laughing.

“It’s not a question of wanting to, you’re beautiful and I really like you y/n of course I want to do all those things with you, but I’m not having sex with you for the first time when you are drunk, when you can’t give proper consent. Especially for your first time.”

It slowly dawned on you even as drunk as you were that Hendery was much more experienced with relationships than you were, it wouldn’t have been hard.

“You don’t mind that I have never had a boyfriend before, that I have never had sex before,” you said, whispering the latter part.

“You don’t have to whisper it’s not a bad word,” Hendery laughed, “And of course I don’t mind, as I said, I’m fully committed to you and we have the rest of our lives, for now we can just cuddle and sleep okay?”

You seemed satisfied with his answer, falling asleep moments later with his arms around you and waking up the same way nine hours later.

You didn’t feel embarrassed in the morning when you remembered the conversation because Hendery didn’t make it feel like something that was at all embarrassing, he just made you feel calm and safe.

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

By that afternoon you were on a flight to a private island, owned by Hendery’s family. His grandfather had owned a brewery there and his own father had worked there before he became president.

Other people lived on the island, local people who would have recognised the two of you and alerted the press with photos.

So before you went to the beach you both put on ridiculously large hats and sunglasses on.

“James Bond has nothing on us,” Hendery remarked as you laughed at his stupid pineapple sunglasses.

“No one would expect the President’s son to dress like this.”

You spent the day on the beach, building a not so impressive sandcastle, jumping through the waves, splashing each other.

Once you had somewhat dried off, Hendery grabbed your hand and led you over to a little ice cream stall where an old man was selling ice cream. Hendery ordered you both one.

“You are a very cute couple,” the man remarked, “is it a special occasion?”

“It’s our honeymoon,” you replied, “we just got married yesterday.”

“Congratulations to both of you,” he said with a smile.

“That’s a rite of passage, isn’t it,” Hendery said as you walked home,

“What is?” you asked,

“Being told we are a cute couple by an older person.”

You giggled as you licked your ice cream,

“I suppose it is.”

You showered after you got back, changing into an outfit Chanmi had packed for you, the dress was lovely, the underwear choices slightly racy.

You walked out onto the patio where Hendery had laid out a fancy table for the two of you. There was a rose in the middle and he held out your chair for you to sit down.

“I have to admit, I didn’t cook the food, I didn’t think that would impress anyone,” he said.

“You don’t need to impress me, I already think you’re great,” you said, sitting down. The food really was good, but you made sure not to drink too much wine to avoid a repeat of the night before.

Your conversation died down comfortably after a while and you both took a moment to stare out at the orchard and the sea that was behind it. You really hoped you and Hendery could move to the island permanently one day. Instead of returning to the Presidential House.

You turned back to see Hendery who was staring at you, a dopey smile on his face.

“I love you,” he blurted out, your heart skipped a beat, “I wanted to say it to you yesterday but I wasn’t sure if you would remember but I love you and I hate my father sometimes but marrying you is the best thing that has happened in my life. We may have married for the sake of international relations but I love you for you.”

You smiled, standing up as he stood up and walking round to stand in front of him.

“I love you too,” you said, “after meeting you I realised I hadn’t really been living real life before, it sounds cliché but you brought colour to my lonely monocoloured life.”

You snaked your arms around his neck, pulling him in to kiss you,

“Will you let me have sex with you know?”

“You don’t know how long I have dreamed of this moment y/n,” he said, staring down at you with love in his eyes,

“The confession of love or the sex?” you joked,

“honestly, both,” he said laughing before bringing his lips back to yours. His lips trailing kisses down your neck before you grabbed his hand and pulled him back inside towards the bedroom.

You barely made it inside the bedroom door before he was kissing you again, your back pressed up against the wall. He gasped slightly when you moved your hands under his shirt, your finger touching his nipple briefly, before pulling off his shirt.

He reacted by unzipping your dress,

“is this okay,” he asked, not pulling it off you until you nodded,

“It’s all okay, Hendery, I want you.” It was all the confirmation he needed. He couldn’t help but admit that it turned him on, being the first and most likely the only man to ever get to touch you like this, now you were married now you were his and he was yours.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said as he unclasped your bra, letting it drop to the floor. One of his hands massaged your breast, the other placed against the wall as your lips met.

Your attention sprung to the growing length underneath his black jeans. You had never seen a dick before in real life.

“Take your jeans off,” you asked him slightly breathless, he was happy to oblige, pulling his jeans off over his legs.

He picked you up bridal style, literally sweeping you off your feet, before placing you back down on the bed,

“As hot as it would be I’m not gonna fuck you for the first time against a wall,” Hendery explained, you nodded,

“Less talking more touching,” you demanded, Hendery grinned a wicked grin.

“That I can do.” Before you knew it he was placing kisses up your thigh, his finger grazing over the top of your soaked panties before pulling them down and throwing them behind him. It was your first time so he knew he had to stretch you first as he inserted a single finger but it was enough to make you let out a sharp moan.

You wriggled slightly in pleasure as he began to pump his finger in and out, before you knew it he had added a second, which was slightly painful at first but at the same time you felt his tongue over your clit, moving in circles and pleasure took over.

“Shit Hendery,” you called out, you could already feel your orgasm building so when Hendery began to move his fingers faster, you let go, your walls clenching around his fingers.

“Such a good girl for me,” he said. You looked up, regaining your sense to see Hendery was still wearing his boxers. A small wet patch had formed at the end of his hard length. You sat up pushing Hendery down.

“My turn,” you said.

“You don’t have to, you know,” Hendery replied.

“But I want to.” You pulled at his waistband, letting his cock spring free. It was slightly bigger than you had imagined and defiantly not as repulsive, in fact the thought of sucking his dick made you wet all over again.

“Tell me how,” you asked him, kneeling down.

“Well start by touching me,” he encouraged, guiding your hand with his own until it was wrapped around the top of his dick, “now slide your hand down and put your mouth where your hand was.”

You leant over and placed your tongue on the tip, licking slightly before putting it into your mouth. Hendery moaned lightly as you began to suck, taking in as much of his dick as possible before moving your mouth back up,

“yeah, fuck, like that,” Hendery groaned.

You tried to take a little bit more into your mouth each time until eventually it caused you to gag slightly, at which Hendery’s dick began to twitch, you kept sucking as his breath quickened and he finally came in your mouth, cum shooting down your throat as you swallowed.

“Jesus,” Hendery said, bringing his lips to yours, the taste of his cum still on your lips, “you are something special y/n,”

He brought his hand down to your folds, checking you were still wet enough for him. He propped himself up with his arms before placing his cock at your entrance.

“Tell me if it hurts, I will go slow, I wont move until you tell me to okay and if you don’t like it we can stop.” He said.

You nodded though you doubted after the first part of the experience that you would want to stop.

When he first pushed in it did hurt, as he moved in and out slowly it stung slightly but with each small thrust the pain was replaced with pleasure. When you finally let out a moan, Hendery started to thrust deeper,

“You’re doing so well for me y/n, you’re so fucking tight,” he hissed, his own pleasure preventing him from talking further.

Neither of you were going to last long and Hendery’s dick was beginning to pulse inside of you.

“I love you,” he managed to say as he came, filling you up with his cum, the feeling of it prompting your own orgasm as you moaned his name loudly.

Hendery kissed your lips softly, hugging you for a moment, before offering to help you clean up, wiping his cum from beneath your legs softly.

“I really do love you y/n,” he said as you both settled back into bed to sleep.”

“I love you too,” you said. What had started out as a sick game between politicians in the name of peace had ended up as something beautiful, as love.

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

In the years following life wasn’t always the easiest, the President wasn’t a good man and he made life tough sometimes and you struggled, but you struggled together. You were happy with each other.

You got to know each other more every day and you fell in love more every day. You had two children together and two years after that you renewed your vows in secret with only your children and your closest friends present, to make it clear you did choose to love each other, even if you hadn’t chosen to marry each other.

Ten years later when the President died of a heart attack, came the hardest choice for you both. Most of the country expected Hendery to take over from his father, to become the next leader. He could have, he would have been a brilliant and fair President, but it wasn’t something either of you wanted, you didn’t want the dictatorship to go on. Hendery allowed the people to choose a new president, elections were held for the first time in many years.

Instead of becoming a dictator like his father Hendery moved back to the villa with the orchard with you and your two children. You went to the same beach and built sandcastles with your kids as you had on the first day of your honeymoon.

The orchard where you had both confessed your love was so beautiful. The island didn’t belong to his country or yours. It was on an island that belonged to both of you.

You bought Chanmi and Jeno the house next door, they had gotten married just three years after you, something that had brought you immense happiness. Jeno didn’t guard you anymore but you both lived close enough to watch out for each other, still the closest of friends.

Your children grew up and played together, went to school together. You lived a life that was happy. You had married to bring the world peace but you had also found peace in your heart. Marrying Hendery had once seemed like a cursed fate but really it had been the most blessed fate of all.

You didn’t think people would ever believe such a happy story could come out of an arranged marriage in which the proposal had occurred in the bathroom. It summed up you and Hendery, neither of you knew exactly why you worked but you did. From the day in the bathroom, to the night of the attack, to your marriage to then. You realised you had always seen yourself loving Hendery.

Your love was the only possible outcome.

#hendery #hendery scenarios #hendery smut #wayv smut #nct smut #wayv scenarios #hendery fluff #wayv fluff #hendery fics #wayv fics #hendery imagine #wayv imagine

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sif-the-tsunami · 4 years ago

Text

When you fall apart

But this ain’t my mama’s broken heart.

Warnings: Yes, all of them. No smut all angst. and no promise of a happy ending. gallows humor, pregnancy loss, infidelity, self medication, spicy language.

Summary: Sy is a cheating bastard and his wife has had enough.

Pairing: Syverson, now a Colonel and his long suffering wife Josephine. (marriage is great guys, I promise.)

Just over 3,300 words.

This might not have been what you were expecting @oddsnendsfanfics

My mother was a genuine Southern debutante, I grew up with pictures of her on the walls with her gorgeous smile and pretty pearl necklaces. Blonde hair and green eyed, she was the most beautiful little slice of American apple pie. Her daddy was the ‘Old Money’ type, and she was his finest accomplishment, she looked, behaved, spoke perfectly. Never once have I heard that woman raise her voice to a man. Hell, I never heard her pass gas in front of anyone for that matter. She is the picture of privilege, she went from her daddy’s house to her sorority house to her husband’s house. Some how, even though she smokes a pack a day, she still looks like she could pass for being forty instead of almost sixty. The last time we saw each other, my friends told me they didn’t know I had an older sister.

Mama married a gentleman who had the good sense to enlist in the military to help support the lifestyle she demanded he provide for her. He was never around much but he gave her a nice house with a lovely front yard, and two little perfect children. He was another one of the old Southern types, I don’t think he ever outright said “I love you, Josephine,” or “I’m proud of you, girl.” Looking back, I don’t think anyone ever did that for him either, so he probably didn’t know how to tell that to me or my brother Theodore. I’m almost sure that he and Mama loved each other once upon a time. Daddy worked hard, he broke his body serving his country, and when he couldn’t do that anymore he broke his own heart trying to please Mama. She must have been disappointed in how her life turned out. She might have had dreams once, when she was younger. I’m pretty sure the last of them were crushed when Daddy died balls deep in the woman who used to perm my Mama’s hair.

Mama played the grieving widow perfectly, not a single person knew that they had been miserable for years. She has worn black out in public ever since. I think the only thing that has really changed is that she has started day drinking now because she’s lonely. I don’t blame her really. She pushed us really hard to be as perfect outwardly as she is, so it is safe to say that she is really disappointed in your truly.

You might be wondering why this all matters, dear reader. However, I find that it is important for you to know this when I tell you I’m remembering this sitting here in the county sheriff’s office, waiting on my Mama to come pick me up because my probably soon to be ex-husband and I got into screaming match, and I may have drunkenly thrown my bottle of tequila at my probably soon to be ex-husband’s head. The details are a little fuzzy at the moment.

“Josephine Syverson, your mother is here to pick you up.” The Sheriff’s deputy starts in his slow drawl, “Now don’t you go pickin’ no fights with your husband. You’re lucky he ain’t pressing charges. Go sleep it off now, Ma’am. I’m sure you two kids will work it out.”

I wait until he can’t see my face to roll my eyes. And low and behold, there she is, my Mama drove four hours to come and pick me up. She’s in a black vintage driving coat, and her hair is covered by a dark gray satin bonnet. It doesn’t matter that it is half past midnight, she is still the beauty queen she has always been. I drank enough Jose Cuervo tonight that my head is still swimming, but I walk with the grace and dignity she taught me.

“Oh my Lord, Josie, what have you done to yourself?” She asks. “Thank you, officers, I’ll get her back on track.”

We make our way out to the car and Mama unlocks the door for me. I slide in and as soon as my butt hits the leather of her seats, I start crying all over again. She gives me the packet of tissues she keeps in her purse then hands a little make-up bag.

“So, what was is this time, Josie, I swear to Lord Jesus that if he laid a hand on you, your brother and I will bury him in the back yard.” She says turning on her Cadillac. “Get cleaned up, you are coming home with me. Maybe James will be smart enough to figure out where you went.”

“Mama?” Who was this woman? She never talks like this.

“Come on, your mama isn’t as dumb as she looks. Although he evidently is.” She lights up a cigarette and offers me one.

“I quit when we started trying… Even after… well… everything, I didn’t start back up.”

She pats my leg. I unzip the bag to find makeup wipes, mascara, face powder and some brick red lipstick. We might not get along all the time but she is a damn life saver. I have black rivers of my own eyeliner and mascara from earlier today streaking my face. I clean myself up as much as I can and then reapply some make-up. “There, now that you are looking better, tell me what happened...”

“Where do you want me to start? I swear this started after his first deployment.”

“Okay, Josie, start there.”

James Syverson is an Army Ranger, I met him after he finished officers school. Because of the nature of military special forces, they deploy more often than most jobs in the military. I understand that they are under a lot of pressure during these deployments and because he is in a position in leadership I opted to give him as much room as he needed. The other officer’s wives informed me that I needed to recalibrate my expectations of what could happen. They warned me that what happens on deployment shouldn’t be held against him when he gets home. And I didn’t, until a girl barely old enough to visit a bar came up to my door asking for my husband with a hand on her belly. She was just as surprised to see me as I was to see her.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. I just looked up Syverson in the phone book, and I didn’t know he was married.”

“Is it his?”

“Ma’am?”

“I can see that you are pregnant. Is. It. His?”

“I… I don’t know…” She said quietly.

“He is still over there. Do not come here again unless you are requesting a paternity test.” And I slammed the door shut. She did come back for the test results when he came home. Turned out that the baby wasn’t his. Small favors, right?

I never faulted the women who fell in love with him. I knew how special he could make them feel, its how I fell in love with him in the first place. After everything he’s put me through it almost doesn’t matter when it is just the two of us. All I have ever wanted was for it to be just the two of us again, but I don’t know think I can wait for him to retire.

“How many times do you think he’s done it?”

“At least once a deployment. The most recent one saw us at the movies last night. He was holding my hand like nothing had ever happened. When he was coming back from the concession stand, a little redhead stopped him and asked who he was here with. When she saw me, she looked like she saw a ghost. He came back up, handed me my pop, kissed my cheek and wrapped his arm around me. He said ‘I promise you, it is not what it looks like.’ but the bitch and her friend kept looking over their shoulders to peek at us. I saw her texting someone and then his phone vibrated, but he didn’t look at his phone until I wasn’t with him.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph.” She lit up again. “And you’ve just been sitting on this, the entire time?”

“Yeah, I learned from the best, Mama. I didn’t want to let you down. You taught me to never let them see me cry.”

“Oh, my baby girl...”

The rest of the night at the movies, I kept it to myself, I’ve had enough. The boiling, seething hatred I was feeling for both of them. I hate that they are always younger than me. I hate that it always makes me like I’m not enough. When I woke up this morning had a beer in the shower. I always save the last one for him, so taking the last one was a big “fuck you” to him. He tried to climb in with me until he saw me drinking in the shower.

“Woman, what are you doing?” He asked. Like he wasn’t the one who introduced me to the idea of a shower beer.

“I’m going to keep drinking ‘til my heart stops hurting, Sy. I don’t know what else to do. But whatever it is that we keep doing, I can’t keep it up anymore. Get out.” I have never denied him, no matter what he wanted. And up until this morning, I had been an amazing wife to him. In the fifteen years of marriage, he has only had to do his own laundry when he was away from home. And even then, he probable conned someone into doing it for him. I have lost almost every friend I have made from relocating so often. I have started and stopped working on my Master’s degree more times than I can count. And now here I am, mid-thirties with none of my own goals accomplished to show for all of the work I have done over the years. If I had opened my mouth, even once, about his indiscretions, he never would have made it to Colonel. Not once have I complained.

After I dried my body off, I walked into the kitchen, naked as the day I was born and grabbed my trusty kitchen sheers. I needed a change. He paused the game he was playing long enough to watch me walk past him with my scissors and the bottle of margaritas.

“Jo, it’s nine in the morning. Being a little dramatic, aren’t we? We going to church today?”

“Why, James? You’ve been yelling ‘Oh my god,’ between some whore’s legs fairly regularly, I’m sure he knows you are a big fan.” I walked away before he could reply, locking the door behind me to our bedroom. He pounded on the door a few times but got the hint that I was not in the mood to be talked to when I turned up Chris LeDoux as loud as I could play it. Then I went to go give myself bangs.

When the music fades, the house is silent. No video games, no football, nothing. I continue to drink from my bottle and the world becomes a little more tolerable. Now, I am not a heavy drinker. Sy teases me all the time about how cheap of a date I am.

“Josephine!” He snaps at me in his soldier voice and I drop the margaritas.

“Jesus fuck, Sy, why you gotta scare me like that.”

“Oh, you are the one getting scared, woman, I have never seen you act like this before.”

“That’s because you ain’t here every time one of your indiscretions comes knocking on the door of my house. Never once have I expected sainthood from you, James, I learned better after your first deployment,” he won’t look me in the eye, either he’s ashamed of what he’s been doing or he is going to punch a whole in the wall tonight. “You would have seen this if you had been around after my daddy died. This is your wife, Syverson, she goes a little crazy from time to time.

“You know how hard I tried to come home for that, that is not fair Josephine.”

“I’m sure you did try. I wish you would try a little harder when it comes to picking out these dumb sluts who think that you are just going to run away from home as soon as you come back from the sandbox. I have received notes on my car windshield telling me that you were going to leave me for them. How you loved them and you were just suffering with me. That I’m hateful, and spiteful, and they could treat you so much better then I ever could. What have you been telling these girls, James, for them to think I am some kind of monster? Haven’t I been a good wife to you? What did I do to you to make you hate me this much?”

“I had no idea that they were doing that. I don’t hate you, baby. You have been a better wife than I probably could have ever deserved. Is that what you want to hear? I know I’m a rotten bastard. How long have you been holding this in, Josie?” His face darkens, I can see all the rage boiling up in him too.

“Don’t you call me that name, you son of a bitch.” I spit at him.

“How long?”

“Since Cassandra came up holding her belly, waiting to tell you that she made you a daddy. Too bad it wasn’t the first time, or I actually might have been worried that you’d leave. I hadn’t even stopped bleeding yet before she tried to take you.” I snarled back at him. And he face drops. Twelve years ago, we tried. I was seven months pregnant when I lost our son. Sy’s squad was wiped out after a night of heavy combat. He barely made it out alive himself. I got a phone call about his injuries and I must have made a deal with the devil himself. I would put up with the womanizing, the long distance, the heartache, just please have him come up to me. I would give anything to save him, I had thought. An hour after I got the call that he had woken up and was safely on a ship in the Mediterranean sea, I started to go into early labor.

“Oh, fuck me. That long?” He whispers. He rubs his face, the stubble was getting long, unless he was out in the field, he kept himself within regulations. He reached out to hold me but I shrug off his touch. He walked away from me, thinking that maybe he might let me calm down and we would go back to being a picture perfect couple again. He could just do whatever he wanted and I will grin and bare it.

I cleaned up the mess I made then went back to the bedroom to put on something on me other than shame. We gave each other space until the evening came around. He came in to ask if I had any plans for dinner. Wrong question, buddy. I walked to the kitchen in my tight black yoga pants and a tank top, went to the liquor cabinet, grabbed my favorite bottle of tequila and took three long gulps.

“That’s my plan, worry about yourself.”

“You haven’t had any real food today, you need to eat something.”

“Eat my ass, Colonel.” With that he pins me to the wall, the room spins around me and I start thrashing against him. He’s got probably 100lbs on me and more combative training than I can remember, so as you can well imagine this is going super great for me. I stop long enough to see the tears forming in his eyes. “Was there ever anything special between us, did you keep any part of yourself just for me?”

“Josephine, you are the only woman I have ever loved. I never even implied that I had any feelings towards them. They knew from the beginning it was simply recreational. Jo, you know you are my best friend.”

“Then why do you keep hurting me? Why am I not enough, Sy? Why do they keep getting you at your best, and I have to put all of your broken pieces back together again when you finally do come home.” Remember every time he woke up screaming the names of his fallen friends. When we have to leave BBQ’s early on the 4th of July because the fireworks remind him of mortar shells.

“You are enough. You are more than enough. I couldn’t have made it this far without you. It has never been anything other than stress relief with them.” The first tear rolls down his cheek. “I love you, Pussycat, now please lets get some food in you. Are you going to be good?”

“Haven’t I always been good. Been good, but not good enough.” I whine and slide down the wall once his hands are off of me. Good lord, where the hell is my dignity.

He lets me go gently and leaves to make me a peanut butter sandwich. While his back is turned, I grab the bottle one more time and take another long swig. This is where the rest of my night is very fuzzy until I came to in the back of the squad car.

He evidently tried to take the bottle from me, I threw it at him, it went wide and smashed against the wall. He took me to the ground, just tried to keep me from hurting either of us and I screamed at him every vile thing I could think of until the sheriff showed up. They tried to take him in, seeing that I was a sobbing mess on the floor. I told them I tried to hurt him, so they handcuffed me and took me in. Before they drove off, James brought a sweater and my purse out for me. I watched a couple of nosy housewives standing at the end of their drive ways. I’m pretty sure I flipped them the bird and they looked at me with disgust.

Now I’m sitting here, in Mama’s Cadillac, licking my wounds.

“Why in the name of God have you not told me about any of this?” Mama asks, this is now her sixth cigarette. I think she’s trying not to turn the car around.

“I thought you would have told me to get over myself and save face.” I say as we pull to her house.

“No, baby girl, I wouldn’t have. No one, especially not my daughter, deserves to be treated like that. Ooo I never liked the boy. Your daddy used to say that cowboy was all hat and no cattle. Let’s get some sleep, Princess. We will go get your stuff in the morning.”

I make my way to my childhood bedroom and collapse down on the bed. Before I close my eyes for the night, I finally check my phone. He had been blowing up my text messages.

I realize that I have never apologized to you about my short comings. But I swear to you, I will get out of the army if you want me to. We can move anywhere you want to, we can start over, just the two of us. I’m so sorry I hurt you, I’m sorry that you kept this all from me. I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t love you. These where from six hours ago.

I don’t know when you will get your phone back, I love you. This was from before my mom collected me.

They told me you have been released from custody but didn’t say to who. Who ever picked you up asked them not to tell me. Are you safe?

I love you. Please. Let me know where you are, I’ll come get you. I hope that you are just ignoring me because you are asleep.

I reply to him with a simple Mama picked me up. Get some sleep. We will talk in the morning.

No ‘I love you’ from me tonight although it killed me not to tell him. Tomorrow, I will figure out if what we have can be saved. But that is tomorrow Josie’s problem.

#captain syverson #henry cavill fanfic #my apologies to henry cavill #henry cavill

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i-like-writing-stuff · 4 years ago

Text

four months; part 2 [five hargreeves x reader]

a/n: thank you all so so much for your support and feedback! i literally could not believe that the first part has over 200 notes and yall want a continuation like omagash??? im soft, thank you guys <3

here is the long awaited part two, but before we dive into that, i felt the need to ask yall if you want five to be aged up?? in most x reader i’ve read on this site, five is aged up, but I felt like, in my case, i didn’t really needed to mention that because i am only like two months older than the actor, and its not like im gonna write smut with him- gross. point is, idk. should i age him up tho??? idk what to do, so here are both aidan and timothee to soothe ur heart for this second part!! <3

(the gifs do not belong to me, lemme know if u know who made them so i can give credits- they’re real cute mah gawsh!!!)

alsoo if you want more five imagines or literally any other hargreeves sibling or fictional character ousside tua, feel free to leave a request in my inbox! kisses <3

summary: after a long family meeting and more booze, you decide to make a bold move and profess your buried feelings.

part 1

“Men are stupid shitheads.” You concluded, setting your flask on the counter, looking at the new bangs Allison had just cut for you.

Even in her drunken state, they seemed to be very nicely done. You were quite surprised by the way they turned out, but pleased nonetheless. It was a spontaneous decision, getting bangs. You had been sitting in the hair salon she was working at with her, Klaus and Vanya after a not so great family meeting.

Hugs were shared, true, but then arguments started and before you even knew it, Luther stormed out, Diego followed him, Five went missing for whatever business he had, and Klaus claimed that Ben was not even there- apparently, ghosts can’t time travel.

So, it was just the four of you, drunk in a hair salon, with too much alcohol and way too many scissors around you, complaining about how shitty your love lives could be.

“Amen.” Klaus raised his drink in the air, “I’ll drink to that.”

“Right?” Allison nodded, combing her second client, Klaus, “The nerve of Ray! I mean, one thing goes wrong and he’s on a warpath!” She vented, holding the bottle of liquor in her free hand, “I mean, doesn’t know who I am?! No, no! No, Ray- you know exactly who I am, you just can’t handle it!”

You watched with a raised brow as Vanya was out of zone, pretending to be shooting the long line of empty bottles gathered in front of her, as Allison kept on continuing her rant. Her husband had just seen her use her powers on the night they started the protest, and was now having a real hard time comprehending what was going on. You didn’t see him at home either, so you figured he may have been upset with you as well for maybe hiding the secret. Or maybe he thought you were like her, who knows?

“Hey, wouldn’t it be weird if Five grew up all hot?” Klaus suddenly asked, taking a drag out of his cigarette, as he got up from his seat to walk around the hair salon, “Wouldn’t that be weird?”

“Why would you even think of your brother like that?” You asked riddled, narrowing your eyes at the man as his sisters almost gagged at the thought.

“Oh, please, you’ve been thinking that, haven’t you?” Klaus asked, pointing at you as you took another swig from your nearly empty flask.

“I... I mean- he’s... Five... uh... no comment!” You suddenly declared, at loss of words, as you got up from your seat, trying to maintain your balance as you made your way towards the bottle of liquor to fill your flask again.

“When are you two gonna confess your feelings?” Allison asked with a groan, letting her head fall backwards as she sat on the chair, “It’s getting really tiring!”

“We have an apocalypse going on!” You argued, “There’s no time for feelings!”

“This is the perfect time for feelings!” Klaus chimed in, taking another drag out of his cigarette, “These might be your last six days on Earth! Do you want to die regretting that you never told Five how you felt about him?”

“I’m not having this conversation anymore.” You declared, out of arguments, as you poured liquor in your flask, “Why don’t we talk about Allison’s crush on Luther instead?”

“We have never even kissed!” Allison defended herself, causing Vanya to spin on her chair confused, looking between the three of you.

“Yeah, but you guys were making little sick moon-dog eyes at each other all through puberty and breakfasts and... all that.” Klaus waved her off, sipping from his own flask.

“Aren’t we all brothers and sisters, or...?” Vanya wondered confused, as you and Klaus snorted amused at her innocence.

“Well... technically...” Allison tried to find an excuse or explanation, but she was having a hard time putting her thoughts in place.

“Technically?” Klaus raised a brow, “If you....” He stammered, trying to regain his train of thought, “If you have to use the word technically, you’re already in trouble.”

“Okay, can we go back to Five and Y/N?” Allison tried to change the subject, “Or maybe at least help me save my marriage?”

“That’s like...” Klaus stumbled on his own feet, filling his flask again, as you leaned against Vanya’s chair curiously, “That’s like asking a nun how to hump someone’s leg! I mean, who in this room knows shit about relationships? This one?” He asked, pointing at Vanya, “In secret love with some farm Frau!”

“Her name’s Sissy.” Vanya informed him.

“Which is an improvement on her previous love interest.” He said, looking at you and Allison, as you shook your heads to slightly tell him to shut up, “...the serial killer.”

“What?!” Vanya yelled, looking between you and Allison for an explanation, but you just softly waved her off, promising to remind her later.

“And look at this one!” Klaus ignored the three of you, pointing at... well, you, “A fifty year old assassin, who got the chance to be a teen again, but she is too afraid to admit her feelings for the... wait, is Five a boy or a man?”

“Both?” You raised a brow, unsure of the answer.

“Meanwhile, I’m carrying a torch for a soldier I haven’t technically met yet, and Luther is in love with his sister.” Klaus waved you off, trying to keep his balance again on his feet.

“Okay, again- we are not biological!” Allison tried to defend herself once more, but Klaus simply ignored her.

“Face it, the healthiest long-term relationship in this family was when Five was banging that mannequin.” He said, making all of you nod in agreement, as you couldn’t help but confess, taking another chug out of your flask;

“I can’t believe I got to the point where I was jealous of Dolores.”

Okay, maybe ‘banging’ and ‘jealous’ were strong words, but you had to admit you were not that pleased when one of the first things that Five did when he got back to 2019, was go to some store to get back his plastic girlfriend who kept him company in the four decades he spent all by himself in the apocalypse.

You understood his mind, though. You would have gone insane as well if you had to be all alone after the end of the world, without another soul on the planet. Nonetheless, you still were maybe a tad too happy when he decided to return her to the store.

Leaving you the only woman he had eyes for, unbeknownst to you.

“I’m gonna tell Sissy that I love her.” Vanya suddenly declared, straightening her position confidently.

“You go, girl!” You cheered, clapping for your friend.

“I don’t want any secrets.” She said, making you and the other two nod in agreement, contemplating about your own lives.

“Yeah!” Allison said, getting up with the bottle of alcohol tightly clutched in her hand, “Yeah, yeah- you’re right! Yes, ‘cause, you know- if this all goes tits-up, the least I can do is be honest with my husband!

“Oh, does that mean I have to face my cult?” Klaus sighed, “I just hate group break-ups, it’s why I stopped dating twins!”

You pondered about it for a moment, in your state that was definitely not the most sober. You had a lot of alcohol coursing through your veins, but you felt like maybe it was better. You could think with your heart more than you could think with your brain, and your heart was telling you that your friends were right.

They all are getting themselves ready to take big risks in their lives, why shouldn’t you? They had a valid point; the world was gonna end in six days if you guys couldn’t find a way to solve this. Last time you didn’t have the brightest plan, so why should this time be a success? Reality hit you; there was a real big chance that you might die.

So why not just be honest with Five? What was the worst that could happen? You manage to save the world and Five rejects you? Big deal!

Well, it actually was a big deal.

“What if he rejects me?” You asked all of a sudden, causing the three siblings to turn to you, “What if I tell Five how I feel about him and he rejects me? I know maybe at my age I shouldn’t be this anxious about a man, but... it’s not like I’m going anywhere, I’m glued to the Hargreeves clan.”

And it was true. After the events of the 2019 apocalypse, right before you and the others got separated, you shared an adorable moment in which you confessed to each other how happy you were to have met and be taken into their family as one of their own.

“Normally, I’d say to not ponder on that for too... long.” Klaus slurred, “But given that it’s Five, you don’t even have to worry about that.”

“He’s right.” Allison shrugged, “That won’t be a problem.

“I have no memory of any of you, but from the hug I’ve seen you two share earlier- you’re not just friends.” Vanya spoke up, making you stare into nothingness for a moment.

I mean, it’s Five we are talking about. If he were to have any feelings, it’s not like he’d be honest with them or act, right? It would be up to you to make the first move.

You let out a long sigh, rubbing your hands on your upper arms, reminding yourself of the hug. It may have been the first time you and Five actually hugged, in all the years you’ve known each other. The way he held you close and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, taking in your scent, feeling you in his arms, even if for him it had been only four days. You had to live with the thought that he may be dead for months.

And you hated that, you knew you wanted him alongside you. You wanted that little rude, at times obnoxious dipshit, with a soft heart- as much as he hated to admit it. You loved how much he cared about his family, about saving the world. Five is a great person; he is caring and has a big heart, as much as he tried to hide it behind his trashmouth.

“Fine!” You groaned, letting your head fall backwards, “I’ll tell Five I fucking love him and his dipshit face!”

“Yes!” Klaus clapped, as Allison and Vanya cheered proudly, “Come here!”

You and Vanya walked towards him, as Allison wrapped an arm around his waist, waiting for the two of you to skip towards them, pulling you into a group hug, as “Twistin’ the night away” by Sam Cooke blasted on the radio, causing the four of you to start a small dance party, letting for the first time in a long while your problems just go away.

For the sake of the song.

After a couple more hours of drinking, gossiping and dancing, the four of you decided to finally part ways and attend your promised business. Klaus went to deal with his cult, as Allison decided to be completely honest with her husband at home and Vanya was going to confess to Sissy.

As for you?

You were going to tell Five Hargreeves you were in love with him.

“Hey, dipshit!” You confidently yelled, running up the stairs of the store, trying to find Five.

“Y/N?” Five frowned, walking out of the kitchen with a coffee mug in his hands and a confused look on his face, “Are you... even more drunk? And did you get bangs- what the...?”

“Shut up.” You waved him off, walking towards him to grab the mug out of his hand to sober yourself up, “Why in the hell are you even drinking coffee at this hour?”

“I’m... trying to calm myself...” He frowned, watching as you chugged his freshly poured coffee.

“Normally I’d ask.” You said, setting the mug on the counter, shaking your head, “But right now what I have to say is more important.”

“Is that so?” Five raised a brow curiously, as you slowly slapped your cheeks, trying to get the room to stop moving, “Why don’t you go to bed?” He asked, gently pushing you towards the couch, “And we talk in the morning? I don’t really have time for this.”

“No!” You yelled, stopping in your tracks to poke his chest, “We don’t have to talk! I talk and you- you listen!” You said, poking his chest again, “You never have time for anything, all you can think of is your stupid apocalypse!”

“Oh yes, isn’t that a trivial thing to be thinking of?” He asked with a sarcastic smile, crossing his arms.

“I don’t need your sarcasm!” You yelled, poking his chest a third time, feeling him get more tense.

“I swear to God, Y/N, if you do that one more time-...” Five took in a deep breath, as he could feel as he was slowly losing his patience.

“Shut up!” You groaned, watching as his brows knitted in confusion, “I’m trying to confess my feelings for you, you moron!”

“W...What?” He asked, as his face suddenly softened, unfolding his arms.

“I’m in love with you!” You sighed, rubbing your face, “Okay? I-I am in love with you and I am trying to sober myself up, but I think I may have had too much to drink.”

“You think?” Five scoffed, slowly leading you towards the couch, “Are you sure you’re not saying this just because you have a ton of alcohol coursing through you?”

“Well... kinda, ‘cause if I were sober there was no way in hell I would have confessed.” You puffed, complying, as you let yourself guided by him, “Allison, Klaus and Vanya all convinced me that I should tell you, that we only have six days left on Earth and in case we don’t save it... I shouldn’t be going down with regrets.”

Five listened to your every word carefully, as you continuing venting about how his siblings spent the whole day trying to convince you to tell him about your feelings, as he slowly held your hands, as you took a seat on the couch. He nodded at your words to let you know that he was listening, as he took two pillows off the armchairs beside, placing them at one end, softly pushing you down.

“...and then Klaus said that he hates group breakups.” You said, not even noticing what was going on, feeling your lids get heavier once your head met the pillow.

“Not a surprise there...” Five muttered, grabbing the blanket that was rested on top of the couch, placing it over you.

“Are you trying to dismiss me?” You wondered, but still making yourself more comfortable, as you sat on your side, with your head facing Five, who knelt in front of you tired.

He bit back a smile, watching as you slowly closed your eyes. He knew you were extremely drunk, he could see that in the way exhaust took over you. Not only you had a lot of alcohol in your system, but you’ve also had some long couple of days, and some longer ones were ahead of you until you knew for a fact the world was safe once more.

“I don’t know how it is, that you’re the one person who actually makes me feel... soft.” He confessed, watching your lips curve into a smile at his words, “You... drunken idiot.”

“I regret nothing.” You said proudly, as Five couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, softly stroking your hair to help you fall asleep sooner.

“We’ll see about that in the morning.” He smirked amused, watching as you pouted.

“You never gave me an answer, you know.” You pointed out, letting his soft touch calm you down, as you felt sleep slowly take over you.

“You never gave me a question.” He retorted, knowing for sure that if your eyes were opened, you would roll them at him.

“I think you like to hear me say that I am in love with you, it’s the third time I have to say it.” You said, slowly placing your hands under your pillow, making yourself more comfortable.

“I am happy to see that you still know how to count.” Five said, placing some wild strands of hair behind your ear.

“Screw you.” You said, making him grin, as he went back to stroking your hair.

“In this whole... shitty situation I managed to get myself into, you, Y/N, might as well be the only thing keeping me sane... surprisingly.” Five frowned at the last bit, watching as you opened your eyes, shifting your head to watch him, “I love you too, moron.”

“I never said I love you.” You smirked, teasing him as he rolled his eyes.

“You little chipmunk...” Five sighed, shaking his head in disbelief amused, as you leaned into his touch more, closing your eyes, pleased with yourself.

“Yeah, but you still love me.” You said, not once dropping that smirk on your lips.

“You’re impossible, did you know that?” He wondered, resting his forearm on the couch beside you, as he knelt on the floor, trying to make himself more comfortable, noticing the way you were enjoying the scalp massage... for free.

“A little bit.” You slowly shrugged, wrapping your arms around his, once you felt it beside you.

Five watched with a soft smile as you pulled his arms closer to your face, nuzzling into it with a satisfied smile, happy that you listened to your friends.

And deep down, so was Five thanking his siblings.

#tua #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy imagines #number five #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves imagines

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hexensalbei · 4 years ago

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do i wanna know

Hi! This fic is heavily inspired by this post (i love you!) and wonderful @on-maars who agreed to beta-read this (she writes too! sooo go visit her blog and ao3 and show her some love!) Enjoy! ❤

Find it on ao3.

Itʼs a very boring, slow shift. Theyʼve been on a few ordinary calls, no dramas this time. Oh, theyʼre not complaining—actually itʼs nice and refreshing that LA for once seems to be careful. It doesnʼt happen often so the 118 really is grateful for this peaceful and sleepy evening. The station is silent. Theyʼd eaten Bobbyʼs macʼnʼcheese earlier (it tasted like heaven) and then most of the team decided to take a nap. Bobbyʼs sitting in the kitchen, talking quietly with Athena on the phone. Theyʼre planning another Grant-Nash family dinner because Athenaʼs complaining that David is working way too much and deserves to fully rest. And she wants to make sure heʼll be able to do it. Chimʼs sitting by the table, focused on his baby book; he takes his dad role very seriously and he wants to be as much prepared as he can. Heʼs still a little nervous because what if he will be a bad parent?, but most of the time he manages to shush these thoughts and focus on the bright side. Henʼs also deeply concentrated on her medical book although sheʼs sprawled on the armchair in a very odd position—she should probably get up and stretch her legs but she doesnʼt have the energy to do it and sheʼll probably regret it soon. She repeats quietly some words from time to time; it helps her remember things. Buckʼs on another armchair; heʼs spread out in an entirely different—and definitely more comfortable—position. Whatʼs maybe surprising for some people, he also has a book in his hands. Heʼs reading about love languages and it seems like itʼs a very engrossing lecture because thereʼs a wrinkle between his brows and he occasionally chuckles at something.

Eddieʼs nowhere in sight. That heavy, drowsy atmosphere at the station got to him very quickly and he went to sleep. It didnʼt go that well, though. He slept maybe for like 20 minutes but then he woke up and kept shifting positions. Itʼs like his brain just couldnʼt shut up. Lying in the bunk doesnʼt make sense anymore so he gets up and goes to the kitchen. Heʼs not surprised to see his closest coworkers sitting there. They barely notice him when he decides to take a bottle of water from the fridge. He comes closer and stands across the armchair Buckʼs sitting on. He knows his friend is aware of his presence but he still doesnʼt pay attention to him.

Eddie takes a sip from the bottle and then he clears his throat.

“I have this urge to do something stupid”, he says casually because he hopes his friends would understand.

“Iʼm stupid, do me.”

Thereʼs a sudden change of atmosphere. Itʼs no longer sleepy—itʼs almost cracking with electricity. Four sets of eyes are looking in Buckʼs direction.

Oh, shit. Has Buck really said those words out loud? Panic starts to creep up in his chest because he didnʼt plan to blurt something like this while his friends are here. Or never. Heʼs convinced he just fucked up the most important relationship in his life. But Eddie is not looking at him with disgust, but with disbelief and uncertainty—as if heʼs not quite sure Buckʼs serious or if heʼs just joking. His gaze is piercing, like heʼs trying to read Buckʼs mind.

Chim slams his book on the table and looks very exasperated.

“Really? In front of my baby book?”

He surely sounds irritated but his face is betraying him. Heʼs been waiting for so long for something like this to happen— maybe not this stupid — but something thatʼd push those two idiots to resolve this sexual tension between them.

Hen, on the other hand, looks very cheerful.

“Iʼm gonna be a hundred dollar richer”, she grins widely.

Bobby doesnʼt say much; heʼs completely fine with only being an observer. Heʼs perfected his poker face through the years so the expression on his face is unreadable. Deep down, he hopes that his boys will talk about whatʼs going on between them and they will get together. He doesnʼt even mind if he loses a little bit of money. As long as Buck and Eddie pull their heads out of their asses.

“Wait, why are you gonna be richer?”, asks Buck and he looks at Hen very suspiciously. He prays Eddie would say something and maybe stop looking at him like this because it makes him nervous and more embarrassed. Heʼs sure that his friend noticed already that his cheeks are probably red by now.

“Oh my sweet, clueless Buckaroo”, says Hen, looking at him with a rather fond expression. “Weʼve had a—”

The bell rings.

Buck has never hated the bell more.

— • —

The call—itʼs not bad. Itʼs not difficult, nothing that they couldnʼt handle. Just a couple of dumbasses at a party doing stupid challenges. They work almost as well as usually—synchronised, effortlessly, quickly—but the tension between Buck and Eddie is even more noticeable, less bearable than normally. Bobby decides to separate them; Eddie goes with Hen and Buck works with Chim. It doesnʼt help too much. Hen catches Eddie staring at Buckʼs ass and rolls her eyes. Chim claims that Buckley is the obvious one but he clearly hasnʼt seen the way Eddie looks at Buck now. And itʼs definitely not platonic. Hen may be the one who wears glasses but she definitely sees how they look at each other. She nudges Eddie softly to bring him back to reality and to finish their tasks. When theyʼre officially done with helping there, they go back to the firetruck. Buck sits across Eddie, their knees bumping from time to time but they donʼt share a word. They just... Let themselves glance at each other quickly only to look away just as fast every time their eyes actually meet. Chimʼs jealous of Bobby because he at least doesnʼt have to witness this awkwardness. He doesnʼt try to bring a topic to talk about even if Henʼs silently encouraging him to do so. They spend the rest of the drive in complete silence. Both Chim and Hen pretend to be asleep; Hen opens one eye a few times to check if either Buck or Eddie made some movements, maybe moved closer or, at least, looked at each other but no. They sit still as if someone froze them. Locking them in a closet is a very tempting idea (it was actually Maddie who came up with it) because all of the 118 and their friends are already so done with them dancing around each other for two years. Eventually, they arrive at the station. Buckʼs not in a hurry to leave the firetruck; heʼs nervous and he bites his lip quite hard, wondering if he should bring the topic.

“Eddie?”, he asks with some hesitation in his voice. Eddie finally looks at him and he only nods.

“Guys, can you—”, Bobby wants to hurry them up but heʼs quickly shushed by Hen.

“Leave them, Cap. Let them do each other.”

Bobby looks horrified at the thought. He eyes both Buck and Eddie very suspiciously and he points the finger at them.

“You two, no making out in the firetruck! And no sex either!”

Buck nearly chokes on his own saliva. This isnʼt something heʼd expected to hear. Especially from Bobby. He tries to explain itʼs not like that, itʼs not like theyʼre going to kiss each other. Buck only wants to apologize to Eddie for saying something this stupid and hopes itʼs gonna be enough for him. But Bobby doesnʼt stay, heʼs already going to the kitchen, Hen and Chim following his steps.

Theyʼre left alone and Buck finally turns around to face Eddie. His friend has a very weird expression on his face and Buckʼs not sure if heʼs able to read it right.

“Having sex with you in the firetruck wasnʼt my first thought when I said I wanted to do something stupid”, Eddie confesses and he starts to grin. He hasnʼt moved yet but Buck feels like heʼs so close to him heʼs taking his breath away. Okay, this is something he hasnʼt expected either.

“Then what were you thinking about?”, Buck asks. His voice is shaky, unsure but Eddieʼs smile is contagious.

“Iʼm not really sure. I didnʼt have anything particular in mind I think. But you really caught me off guard and I canʼt stop thinking about it since.”

As he says it, heʼs finally moving towards Buck. He stops when thereʼs barely any space between them. They donʼt break eye contact even for a second; Eddie gently cups Buckʼs face in his hands. He strokes the stubble on his friendʼs jaw with his thumb. They let their breaths mingle, their lips maybe an inch away from each other but none of them moves first.

Buckʼs mind is still trying to process what Eddie has said but itʼs hard to form any coherent thought when he can feel the other manʼs body heat and, holy shit, is Eddie hard because of him?

“If youʼre still thinking about doing me, I think it requires at least a little bit of kissing”, manages to say Buck. Heʼs still not sure if itʼs all real or itʼs just his imagination but he doesnʼt care. He retrieved his usual cocky attitude and he knows Eddie likes it.

“Smartass”, Eddie chuckles but then he captures his lips with his own.

Itʼs far from chaste, sweet or innocent. Itʼs very heated, rushed; the kind of kiss that makes your blood boil. Buck moans softly when Eddie tugs him closer by the belt and he rolls his hips over him. He hears the belt unbuckling and a Spanish curse when Eddieʼs struggling with unzipping his pants. His mindʼs all fuzzy because of all the touches, the kisses, the heated stares. Because, apparently, itʼs all very real and—

Thereʼs a loud bang on the window.

“I told you, no making out in the firetruck”, they hear Bobbyʼs voice but he doesnʼt sound angry or annoyed. Itʼs more amused than anything. And then, they hear footsteps growing quieter which means theyʼre alone again.

“I need to remind Bobby that no making out rule should apply to everybody, not only me”, Buck scowls.

“Wait, you saw something I havenʼt seen and you haven’t told me?”

“I once caught Cap and Athena kissing here. It was gross, theyʼre like my parents”, Buck exclaims, making a very disgusted expression.

Eddie laughs.

“I think we made sure nobody will try to kiss here again. So... What do you think about the showers?”

Buckʼs only response is to lead him to the bathroom.

#911 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #buck x eddie #buddie fic #buddie ficlet #buddie drabble #911 fic #lucy writes #lucy's attempt to write

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janetbrown711 · 4 years ago

Note

"My head hurts" - Dot

There were three things Yakko hated most in the world: King Salazar, moving ‘homes’, and winter.

Yakko’s hatred of Salazar was clear: he was responsible for where they were now. It was his fault they were homeless orphans in a town that was going progressively downhill. He was raising taxes without a thought about what it was doing to the citizens. It drove Yakko insane, especially since this tax went down to the smallest child. Every time they earned just enough money for a new blanket or maybe a warm meal made by someone else for once, it was taken away by that stupid baron Thaddeus Von Plotz.

It was because of King Salazar that the stores and shops kept shutting down, and reopening just to shut down again. It made it especially hard for them to find a stable place to live. Just when they’d get settled into an abandoned jewelry shop, policemen would come and tell them to scram and that some other shop that was doomed to fail was replacing it.

The worst part about changing ‘homes’ was how difficult it clearly was for Dot. Wakko was usually gone during the days, trying to find odd little jobs to do around the town, or hunt for rabbits for them to eat for dinner if they didn’t have money to buy food. Dot, however, was just five years old now. She didn’t have any memories of their parents, or even of the orphanage. Yakko spent his days with her, trying to teach her to read and write with what he had around, or playing her silly games, but with her hanging around “home” so often, she always got just too attached right before they’d have to move again. She always looked so heartbroken as she looked back and said goodbye to the building.

Winter.

Yakko hated winter a lot, it was in a close second to King Salazar. It snowed a lot in Acme Falls, and Yakko was thankful they had fur, or else all of them would’ve caught hypothermia by now.

Winter’s were especially hard when they had to move around. Sometimes there weren’t buildings and they’d have to spend the next few days in the alleys. That was when they were practically guaranteed to get sick. It was never too serious, and they were usually just cases of flu that lasted a few days before going away. Yakko had a tendency to be a ‘worry-wart’ in the words of Wakko, which he couldn’t deny. He just... couldn’t afford to lose them.

“Yakko, when is Wakko coming back?” Dot asked, holding a very worn out rag doll Yakko had gotten her for her third birthday, before the taxing would’ve made it impossible.

“He’ll be back soon,” Yakko said, as he looked through what food they had left to see if they could have lunch today. Dot frowned a little.

“Y-yakko my head hurts,” Dot said.

“Go lay down, I’m sure it’ll go away,” Yakko brushed it off. Dot tended to exaggerate things when she wanted attention. It was probably just from hunger- not that Yakko could blame her, but it was nothing lunch could hopefully fix.

“Okay... I’ll go lie down,” Dot nodded and went to their bed, which was really just a pile of blankets on the floor, and curled up into a ball. Yakko frowned at that, but shrugged it off again. He really did need to relax more, he always got so wrapped up in his own head, and it never did anyone any good.

“It’s just because she’s hungry,” He thought to himself. Yakko returned to the food and sighed. Hopefully Wakko could make more than a ha’penny this time because they were running low on bread.

Still, something was off with Dot today so it was probably best to have at least a little something to settle her over for now. Hopefully, they’d be okay...

Yakko wasn’t surprised when it started to snow outside. He muttered to himself as he got the materials for a fire and set them aside to do later. Hopefully, it wouldn’t snow too much, or else they’d be able to make snowmen with how many holes were in the ceiling.

“I’m back!” Wakko announced as he re-entered the small building.

“Took you long enough, what do you have?” Yakko asked.

“I was lucky and got myself three ha’pennies today,” Wakko beamed with pride. Yakko did his best to be happy as well, but, well- ha’pennies weren’t exactly as valuable as Wakko believed. Still, it could buy them a little more food, which meant Wakko didn’t have to hunt and could play with Dot like she wanted.

“That’s good Wak. We can buy some more bread with that and have some for dinner,” Yakko said. Wakko nodded happily.

“Look Dot! I got three- is she okay?” Wakko went to brag to his little sister, but quickly dropped his attitude.

“Her head hurts, I’m sure it’s just because she’s hungry. She hardly ate yesterday,” Yakko stated.

“Neither did we and we’re fine,” Wakko frowned.

“We’re bigger than she is, it means more to her than us,” Yakko sighed and shrugged. That detail did bug him, but he had other things to focus on for the moment. He shivered as he felt the building shake as harsh winds began to mix in with the snow.

For instance, he had a fire to start.. somewhere.

It was really hard to start fires in places that didn’t have an oven. If it hadn’t been snowing he would have tried outside. Still, he had collected rocks, sticks and had even gotten some firewood and it was cold enough to warrant using it. Even though he hated it most times, he was glad for once the floor was dirt and not wood.

As he started pilling the wood, he felt his younger brother hovering around him curiously. Yakko chuckled at that. He had been doing that since he could walk; some things never change.

“If you want to help start the fire, you can just say so Wak,” Yakko grinned. Wakko, not one to be embarrassed easily, beamed, and picked up the stones Yakko had gathered days before and started putting them in a circle around the fire. Yakko didn’t really know why people did that with fires, but it made them look nicer and it made a clear barrier Dot and Wakko knew not to cross.

“Eventually, they had gathered everything around. Yakko grabbed the box of matches they had, and did his best to hide his frown as he realized they only had four left.

“Better make them count,” He thought, sighing aloud. He of course could’ve tried the old fashioned way, but those fires tended to end poorly, and usually gave the ever impulsive Wakko ideas. It was simply better to use matches.

Finally, the fire had been lit and Yakko felt himself sigh a breath of relief mixed with tiredness. Who knew it was utterly exhausting to have to raise a five-year-old, and an eight-year-old when you were only eleven-almost-twelve. He grabbed their bag of food and handed Wakko a piece of bread and some grapes before standing up and going to Dot.

“Hey Dot, we’re eating lunch now and-” Yakko paused when he noticed how damp her fur looked. He looked up and frowned when he saw that there wasn’t a hole above her that would’ve caused snow to fall on her.

Then she coughed.

It wasn’t a normal cough, it was loud, it was messy, and it was long.

“D-dot? Are you okay?” Yakko asked, trying to hide his panic. Dot shivered and clutched the blanket around her tighter.

Oh god- this was bad. This was really really bad.

“Wakko, where did you put your ha’pennies?” Yakko asked, turning to him.

“Right here- what’s wrong with Dot?” Wakko said, his ears lowered in worry.

“We have to take her to the doctor- Now.” Yakko stated.

“Now? Is she okay?” Wakko looked much more frightened. Yakko never took them to the doctor for anything unless he felt it was serious (like when Wakko had broken his arm hunting once).

“Y-yak-” Dot had tried to speak, but her voice was hoarse. Yakko cringed as he picked her up. She suddenly felt a lot lighter than she had before.

This was really really bad.

“Don’t say anything Dot, it’s gonna be okay,” Yakko said, stroking her head softly.

However, the universe seemed to be out to prove him wrong as the door swung open and snow and fiercely bitter winds broke into the small place and immediately put the fire out.

So much for making the most out of that match.

Yakko shook his head, he didn’t have time to focus on that, Dot was sick. Really sick. He needed to get her to a doctor asap.

“Stay here Wak, it’ll be safer in here than out there,” Yakko said. Wakko shook his head profusely.

“I wanna go with you. We need to stick together,” Wakko insisted. Yakko looked at him and couldn’t help but be reminded of that night five years ago...

Yakko shook his head to snap himself out of it. “Fine, but hold onto my tail. I can’t lose you in the storm,” Yakko said, and was relieved when Wakko didn’t protest. Finally, he sucked in a deep breath for strength and headed out into the storm for the doctors.

Yakko usually forbade his sibs from walking during a snow storm for very obvious reasons. One, they could get frostbite or hypothermia or just get really cold; Two, the roads were covered in ice and they could easily slip and hurt themselves; and Three, it was just generally a really bad idea.

That didn’t stop Yakko though. He was on a mission and nothing was going to stop him. He didn’t hesitate to take off his own coat and wrap his little sister in it. If it weren’t for the direness of the situation, he would’ve laughed at how it engulfed her.

He kept marching on.

The walk was a lot longer than Yakko expected, but with the snow piling up and the weight of carrying his sister and feeling his brother’s pull on his tail, plus the lack of visibility were all making it a whole lot more difficult than it had to be.

“Yakko! I think you walked past it!” Wakko shouted from behind to be heard over the wind.

Walked past it? No, he wouldn’t have-

He looked above and noticed they were all the way at the bakery, three buildings over from the doctor’s office.

“This is what you get for complaining Yakko. Keep this up and she’ll be de-”

No. He couldn’t think like that. He turned around and ran as quickly as he could to the doctors without slipping. He cursed when the stupid door was locked. Wakko tapped his shoulder and gestured for him to step aside. Yakko obeyed and Wakko began banging on the door as hard as he could.

“Ve are closed can’t you read- Oh. The Warners. Vhat do ve have here?” The familiar doctor puzzled. Ignoring the rude implications, Yakko leaned Dot towards him and the doctor gasped and let them come in immediately.

Thank goodness the doctor was doing well for himself still because his building was nice and toasty. Doctor Scratnsniff closed and locked the door once more after they got in.

“Vhat is the matter vis Dot?” He asked, gesturing for Yakko to hand her over. Yakko hesitated but obliged.

“I don’t know... I-i thought she was just tired because she was hungry but when I checked up on her later she was sweaty, a-and she had a cough. A really bad one,” Yakko said.

“How far did you walk to come here? It vas very far, no?” He asked as he hurried off to his examination table. Yakko and Wakko followed.

“Very far,” Wakko said.

“And in a blizzard nonetheless. You two must really care,” Dr. Scratchnsniff said, checking her vitals.

Yakko scoffed. Was he daft? He had known them since they had moved to Acme Falls and he was surprised they cared about her?

“Zis is bad... zis is very bad...” The doctor muttered in hopes that the other two sibs wouldn’t hear, but Yakko heard it clear as day.

“What’s the matter doc?” Yakko said, sticking his hands in his pant pockets nervously.

“I’m afraid Dot is very ill-”

“Can you fix her?” Wakko interrupted. Scratchnsniff sighed.

“I do not know. Zis illness... it comes and goes. To remove it would require surgery which is expensive and dangerous, especially around zis time of year,” He scratched the back of his bald head.

“N-no... there... there has to be something you can do,” Yakko pleaded.

“I’m sorry Yakko... there isn’t much I can do except recommend a diet and hope for the best. Like I said, it comes and goes,” He explained.

“Please, we’ll do anything,” Yakko said. Scratchnsniff sighed.

“I’ll give you a list,” He said.

Good. At least the doctor wasn’t that daft and heartless.

“You kiddies should stay here for the next while though, Dot needs her strength and a warm environment ja?” He said as he went to get a piece of paper. Yakko and Wakko shared a look.

“We only have three ha’pennies...” Wakko said, looking at the ground. “Will that cover it..?”

Yakko saw Scratchnsniff pause.

“Guess he isn’t doing as well as I thought,” Yakko thought.

“Zat will get you three days, ja? Zat should be enough time for her to regain her strength,” He said. Wakko smiled.

“Thanks scratchy!” He said, hugging the doctor.

“You’re very velcome Vakko,” He patted his head, clearly uncomfortable with the gesture but too polite to say otherwise.

“Yeah, thanks doc,” Yakko said, keeping his distance and walking over to Dot.

“Y-yakko...” Dot shivered.

“Shh, it’s gonna be okay Dot,” Yakko said, trying his best not to look overwhelmed with worry.

“Wh-where- wh-when-” Dot looked around wearily.

“It’s okay Dot. We’re at the doctor's. Just get some rest, okay? You’re gonna need your strength,” Yakko said, stroking her head.

“A-am I okay?” Dot asked, looking at him wearily.

“You’ll be okay Dot. Everything is gonna be okay," He said, not really believing it, but he willed himself to look like he believed it for her. It wasn't easy, as she went into another nasty coughing fit. After that, Dot shivered and reached out for his hand wearily. He gave it to her, and she placed it under her cheek and embraced it. Yakko thought he might cry.

"It's gonna be okay, Dot. You're gonna be okay."

"You have to," he silently added.

He couldn't afford to lose her too.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

#animaniacs #my fics #dot warner #yakko warner #wakko warner #yakko wakko and dot #angst #wakkos wish #dr sratchnsniff #feels #sickness #tw: illness

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starrynite7114 · 4 years ago

Text

Headcanon: Art Day

A/N: A headacanon! This idea was given to me by @carlaangel86 and @justahopelessssromantic . We were watching some Tiktoks and well, here it is. Hope you all enjoy this update!

Laughter and Snapshots will be posted next!

Hope you guys had a good week!

Masterlist

Request tagged list: @justahopelessssromantic : @ifoundmyhappythought : @carlaangel86 : @woahitslucyylu : @encounterthepast : @enamoured-x : @thewarriorprincessxo : @briana-mishell24 : @bribri-82 : @chibsytelford : @agirllovespasta : @twistnet : @everyhowlmarksthedead : @trulysuccubus : @jadert15 : @sammskellington : @cind-in-real-life : @claytoncardenasbabymama : @sadeyesgf : @thickemadame : @summertimesadnesswithadashofsass : @gemini0410 : @elcococruz : @samcrobae : @sesamepancakes : @iambabyharry : @blackmissfrizzle : @soamayansfangirl : @1-800-imagines : @phoenixhalliwell : @lady-pswrld : @dazzledamazon : @getyourcrayoncas : @fvckthisbxtchup : @lukealvxz : @scuzmunkie : @lilac-tea-time : @danie1432 : @cocotheclown : @soaronmywings : @my-rosegold-soul : @buttercup812 : @itskiranbitch : @angelreyesgirl : @sheeshgivemeabreak : @vicmackeybullshxt : @bigcreatorwombatdreamer : @khyharah : @strawberrywritings : @cherry-icetea : @fuzzy-jellyfish : @losolvidad0s : @brownsugarcoffy : @courtrae89 : @prdsdjarin : @blessedboo : @marvelmaree : @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat : @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead : @thesandbeneathmytoes : @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind : @maddie-georges :

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please let me know!

CREDITS TO THE ORIGINAL GIF MAKER!

You and Angel have had a good quarantine so far.

Meaning you two didn’t kill one another and actually enjoyed one another’s company.

Maybe the reason you two have yet to kill one another was due to the fact Angel locking himself in the third bedroom in your house, painting.

Which you two recently purchased at the end of last year and now, you two were able to renovate as you two had planned.

With the quarantine, your days were spent either painting a room, placing the hardwood floors in the kitchen and living room, or changing the cabinets in the kitchen.

Overall, it’s been a productive first two months of quarantine

Now, the Santo Padre head was seeping in and you were not a happy camper.

Though, another reason quarantine didn’t make you two hate one another, was because you and Angel love being in each other’s company.

You two appreciated the days you two have together since you were always at work and he was always on a run.

Living apart the first three, living together the last three, six years together in total, you and Angel knew how to avoid killing one another.

Also, it helped that you were a respiratory therapist and worked almost six days a week. They tried to push you for more hours, but there was so much your body could take.

Now, after being on for six, you were off for four.

On your first day, you were nursing a margarite that Angel made for you while you watched a 90s Romcom on Netflix while he was in his art room.

You loved coming in Angel’s art room since his masterpieces gave you glimpses of how he was feeling.

When the whole thing with EZ went down? Everything was dark, upsetting, but you knew he had to let it out.

It lasted for a few months, but eventually the colors came back.

You didn’t know how to help him, you knew Angel was hurting then, but the best thing to do for him was to be here and you were.

Angel never changed towards you, he was always silly, loving, and your Angel.

But you knew he missed his family as well.

Your glad EZ manned up and spoke to Angel.

You were in your room, waiting for glasses to break, but you didn’t hear anything. When you came out after EZ left, Angel held you, sleeping on the couch that night.

And you also loved the artwork you inspired for Angel.

It always made you smile shyly at him when he would tell you about the artwork you inspired him to do.

They were vibrant, so full of life. They varied as well.

Some were sketches of you that you knew he was doing since he asked you to model for him.

Others were candid sketches he took of you. Some of them you don’t even remember him doing since there was no sketchbook in his hand then.

“It’s from memory baby, EZ isn’t the only one with photographic memory. Though, you’re the most prominent image in my mind, it isn’t hard.”

You would blush and kiss him.

Angel was too sweet for his own good.

He didn’t draw often since the club took him away often.

So when he could, he dedicated a day for his artwork

And today was that day.

While you enjoyed your margarita, Angel was enjoying his beer in his room.

You wanted to take a peek since he’s been in there since eight this morning and it was already one in the afternoon.

You figured you should think of making lunch soon, but you weren’t hungry since you and Angel had a big breakfast.

“Babe!” You called out to Angel who left his door slightly ajar in case you needed him.

“Yeah?” He answered.

“You hungry?”

There was no response and just as you were about to get up, you felt Angel hold your shoulders down and kiss you.

“Jesus Christ Angel!” You placed your hand on your chest.

He sat down next to you, your shirt was now dirty with the paint he was using.

“Babe, you got my shirt dirty.” You pouted, not really caring, but you loved to give Angel flack every once in a while.

“You mean my shirt?” He teased.

“We’re partners, what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours.” You paused. “Except for the GT, that’s all mine.”

Angel laughed. “I swear, you love that car more than me.”

“No, of course not,” you looked at him. “Maybe just a little bit, but you’re still the number person to me.”

Angel rolled his eyes. “Yeah okay.” He looked at what you were watching before taking a sip of your margarita. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really, but I know you’re a bottomless pit.”

“I’m not that hungry yet, we can swing by Pop’s store and get a few steaks.”

“We do need some meat, we might as well stock up so we don’t have to go out again.”

“Great idea.” Angel kissed your cheek. “But, before we go, can we do something real quick?”

“Sure.”

He took your hand and pulled you up. You two made your way towards his art room where there was a plastic table at the center and a LunaBean in the middle. You looked over at Angel who smiled at you.

“Oh god, are you sculpting me again?”

Angel chuckled. “No, and you literally we’re not complaining the two times we did.”

“Angel, we ended up fucking both times.”

“Like I said, no complaints.”

You laughed.

You stopped in front of the table, Angel letting go of your hand so he could stand across from you.

Looking inside the bucket, your nose scrunched up at the mixture below. You weren’t sure what the material was, but it was light pink in color.

“Um, I’m not sure I want to know what we’re going to do.” You eyed him suspiciously.

Angel chuckled. “Come mi corazon, you trust me?”

“Um, that’s a hit or miss.” You stuck out your tongue playfully. “Alright, I do, what are we doing baby?”

You love being a part of Angel’s art process. It wasn’t rare you were able to do it, but you were glad you could do it now.

“Give me your hand.” You gave him your left hand, his right hand intertwining with yours. He dipped your hands inside the bucket till it was on the bottom. “Stay still.” He instructed you.

For five minutes, you and Angel remained still, Angel watching your hands, while you watched him. He was a perfectionist with his art. Everything else, he was laid back, but when it came to art, he was a perfectionist.

He pulled your hands out, wiping your hands, he handed the cloth to you so he could pour the casting stone mix inside. Once he filled it, he placed the second bucket down and smiled at you.

“Let’s go.”

“Is that supposed to create a mold?”

“Maybe, you kind of moved, so you might have fucked it up.” He teased.

“You’re so lucky I love you.”

You two went to Carniceria Reyes, and kept your social distancing as instructed along with your mask. You missed Felipe and the stories he told you about Angel.

How much of a pain of the ass Angel was, but how he was such a sweet kid who always looked out of his younger brother.

He also told you how much Angel loved drawing more than he did sports, but Angel also liked popularity and art wouldn’t win girls over.

EZ was at the store helping their father as well.

It’s been a rough year between EZ and Angel, but you were glad that things were better.

“So, am I getting a quarantine niece or nephew?” EZ called out before you two exited the story.

You blushed while Angel just laughed, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

When you two arrived home, Angel put the groceries you two decided to get since you two were out anyway.

You sat back down on the couch, resuming your movie.

Angel eventually joined you and soon, you two fell asleep.

Angel woke up first, watching you as you slept. His favorite sketches of you were of ones while you were sleeping. You looked so peaceful and carefree.

He carefully maneuvered you, so he could lay your head on the pillow.

Once he was certain you wouldn’t wake up, he took his sketchbook, sat on the armchair and began to sketch you.

A few hours later, you woke up to Angel banging around the kitchen.

“Babe, if you were trying to wake me up, you’ve succeeded.”

“Good, dinner is ready.”

Angel was a tremendous cook and one of the things you two picked up whenever you were off work was cooking together. It was definitely fun.

And you may or may not have started painting with Angel, though, he was a strict teacher, sort of.

You two always ended up naked.

After dinner, you washed the dishes as Angel busied himself in his art room again.

His art ventures were usually an all day thing, so you were surprised you two even went out.

But with quarantine, he had more opportunity to work on his art.

He always told you, art was a process, so you never went inside his room unless there was an emergency.

When you were done, you sat back on the couch and browsed through your phone, seeing what you missed in the social media world while you were asleep.

“Mi dulce, can you come over here?” You heard Angel call for you.

“Sure babe.”

You entered the room and found Angel standing beside the plastic table. You joined him, looking down at the molding of your hands together.

“Babe, this looks amazing.” You studied the molding. Your hands were perfectly intertwined, the details were absolutely amazing.

You then noticed there was a sketching of you in front of it. Curiously, you picked it up.

You took in the details, always in awe of Angel’s work.

You loved it when he shared his work with you whenever he finished.

Self-esteem issues were a bitch, but every time you saw a piece Angel did of you, you felt like the most beautiful woman in the world.

Turning it over, there was a note behind it.

‘Every time I look at you, I’m reminded of our meeting at the carniceria years ago. How you gave me that shy smile, tucking your hair behind your ear, thanking me for the suggestions I made. I began to look forward to your visits, trying to work at my pops’ shop as often as I could just so I could get a glimpse of you. After our first date, I knew this was it for me, which was fucking insane. These past six years have been the happiest I’ve been since my mother passed away. I’m not really certain what I did to deserve your presence, but I’m thankful every day. We’ve had our ups and down, but this quarantine made me realize that you’re the person I want to spend the rest of my life with, especially since you haven’t killed me. I love you, mi vida, mi alma, mi sol, mi todo, will you marry me?’

You looked over at Angel, and he was on his knee, a black velvet box in his hand.

“Will you marry me, Y/N?” He asked, the nervousness clearly evident on his face.

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Angel stood up, picked you up and kissed you. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling away so you could bury your face on the crook of his neck.

You couldn’t believe it, it was finally happening. Angel proposed to you.

Placing you back down on the floor, you smiled up at him, looking back down at your left hand.

“Fuck, babe, I can’t believe it.”

“You better, because once this quarantine is done, we’re getting married.”

You laughed.

“Guess we gotta make a new molding once we’re married.”

“No babe, this can be our memorabilia of the day we got engaged.”

Angel took one of his thin brushes, writing the date on your hand molding.

“This is the beginning of our forever.”

Angel smiled. “It’s been us since the first day we met at the carniceria.” He softly began kissing your neck, making you moan. “What do you say we end this day like how we always do during art days?”

You two always ended Angel’s art days with sex.

You never asked questions, you were a willing participant.

And you were a willing participant again.

#angel reyes #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes fic #angel reyes fanfic #Mayans MC #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc fic #mayans mc fanfic

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anti-plexus · 4 years ago

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Get Up (Clockwork x Reader)   WARNING: This story is my own AU. I know many of you like Slenderman, but in this AU, Slenderman is bad and Zalgo is good. I just wanted to see what it would be like to write about the Creepypastas as the “bad guys.”   —————

————   BANG!   Your gun fell to the ground, softly landing on the snow.   Your breathing fanned out in clouds of white as you stood in the frigid forest. Clockwork patted your shoulder comfortingly, which was exceeding rare for her.   “Clock…” You whispered.   “Hey,” She grabbed your shoulders, swinging you around to meet her green eye and scarred mouth. “I know you didn’t want to, but this is your- no, this is OUR life now.”   “I know…” You answered, sneaking a glance at the body behind you. “But isn’t there more to life than killing?”   Clockwork looked at you seriously. “Not since we became pastas. Killing is our life.”   “But at what cost? We both know that the police will kill us if Slender doesn’t first.”   “You know I won’t let them do that to us, either of them.” Clockwork reassured you, even though the look in her faded green eye told you otherwise.   You could see that she was scared, it was as clear as day to you. Seeing a normally fearless Clockwork struggle to hide her fear broke your nonexistent heart. “Hey hey, it’s ok,” You reassured her. “We finished the mission, so let’s go back to Slenderbitch’s Mansion and get this over with.”   “You’re right,” Clockwork nodded. “But I don’t want to go back to that… that place.”   You knew she was talking about the Slender Mansion, a horrid house full of torture chambers and never-ending screams. You and Clockwork lived together in a rusty cabin about a mile or so from the mansion, making it easier for Slenderbitch to call upon both of you for missions. Most of the missions only included killing one or two people, but this particular mission was centered around killing a child. A child.   Clockwork watched as you scooped up the dead child’s body. “(Y/n)? What are you doing?”   Your voice rang out through the frosty trees, full of firm resolve. “This kid did not deserve to die. I’m going to bury him like a normal person.”   You could almost hear how badly Clockwork wanted to say, “You’re far from normal.” But she kept silent and followed your lead as you walked in the direction of the cabin.   You silently began to bury the body, feeling sad as the kid’s body disappeared beneath the dirt.   “I’m not sure why you’re doing this. It’s stupid and childish.” Clockwork commented as you finished burying the body.   “So? Aren’t we still children?”   “Bitch, I’m twenty-four.” Clockwork deadpanned.   “Still. Twenty-four ain’t that old, plus, I’m only nineteen. I’ve only been an adult for a year.”   “Fuck your half-assed logic.” You knew you had won. Again.   We’re all kids-   “Don’t you want to be a kid again?” You asked as you pushed the cabin door open. “I mean, wasn’t being a kid fun for you?”   Clockwork ignored you, finally having enough with your sentimental bullshit. “I’m going to my room,” She informed you before the corners of her lips twitched up. “Girls night is still on, right?”   This was her way of making amends and you accepted it with open arms. “Hell yeah, every night is girl's night!”   Clockwork retreated up the stairs to her room, shutting the door behind her. You knew she had a stash of cigs and alcohol in there so it didn’t surprise you when the smell of cigarette smoke began to drift downstairs where you resided. Smoking was a common pastime of yours, yet the smoke still managed to bother you. You coughed as you inhaled a breath of the foul-smelling smoke.   “Damn it, Clock…” You mumbled, internally cursing her smoking habit even though you had the same problem.   You dirty hypocrite-   You strolled to the living room, where the smoke was less potent. A half-open book lay on the coffee table. Before I let go, it was called.   Well, I got nothing else to do, You thought, picking up the book and flipping to the first page. Upon reading more, you managed to piece together the plot of the story and

it was surprisingly good. No wonder Clockwork liked it.   Time flew as you read, and you heard Clockwork’s footsteps in the kitchen. “(Y/n)?”   You forcibly put the book down. “Hm?”   “It’s seven. You ready?” Clockwork’s brown-haired head peeked out from the kitchen doorway, her green eye staring deep into your soul.   You gingerly stood up from the couch and made your way to the kitchen, where several bottles of liquor lay unopened on the counter.   You grabbed a bottle without hesitation, breaking the seal and taking a long gulp of the burning liquid. “Fuck, I missed this so much.”   “Me too, bitch.” Clock responded, grabbing another bottle and nearly downing it. You hiccuped slightly as you took another gulp, feeling your body begin to relax and your mind fuzz over.   You yelped as Clockwork proceeded to finish her bottle, slamming it on the ground with a drunken screech. “Holy shit, Clock!”   “Woooo! Fuck this SHIT, I’m going OUT toNight!” Clockwork cheered, drunkenly hooking her arm around your shoulders.   Fortunately, you recognized that that was a horrible idea. “Wait, Clock, you’re drunk.”   “sO? I’mma get waaaaaasted.” She slurred.   You deadpanned. “Bitch, you’re already wasted.”   “NO!” Clockwork screamed. “I’MMA GROWN WOMAN! FUCK YOU, SATAN!!”   “I'm not Satan, you loony bitch-“   Then she tackled you. She fucking tackled you.   *The Next Morning*   It was a beautiful morning, if beautiful mornings translated to having the biggest hangover ever. You slowly sat up from your spot on the floor.   What in tarnation happened- Oh, never mind… You thought as you surveyed the living room. You spotted Clockwork laying a few feet from you, still passed out. You moved to stand up, pushing an empty bottle out of your way.   The kitchen was a mess. Empty bottles of alcohol lay smashed on the floor, the shattered pieces glinting at you. You sighed heavily.   What a horrible morning…   After drinking a glass of water and filling one up for Clockwork, you proceeded to re-enter the living room, plopping down on the couch. You heard someone shift and realized that Clockwork was waking up.   “Ugh..” Clockwork groaned, reaching up to rub her aching head. “What the fuck happened?”   “Welcome back,” You sarcastically greeted Clockwork, handing her a glass of water. “How did you sleep?”   “Fucking terrible,” Clockwork complained, taking the water and drinking it in one gulp. “This hangover is killing me.”   “Join the club.” You answered in a slightly salty tone.   Suddenly, Clockwork started laughing, but it wasn’t a normal laugh, maybe the hangover was getting to her…   You immediately stiffened when you saw a tear drop out of Clockwork’s good eye.   “Clock?! Are you ok?!”   Wet sobs emanated from Clockwork’s mouth as she grabbed onto you and buried her face into your neck. You almost didn’t believe your ears and eyes, why was Clock crying?   “Clockwork... Why are you crying?”   “Natalie.”   “What?”   Clockwork unburied her face from your neck, her one green eye bright and wet. “Call me Natalie, please.”   “I-I thought you hated that name.” You stuttered, completely at loss as to why she was asking you to call her by the name she despised.   “I do…” Clockwork hiccuped. “But I want to be Natalie one last time, take me back, (Y/n). I want to be a kid again, even if it’s only for a few seconds.”   You couldn’t tell if Clockwork was still drunk or not, but it sure seemed that way. She hated the name “Natalie” with a burning passion. You didn’t know what happened to her, but it must have been bad, considering her eye and mouth. There were too many secrets here, in you and Clock’s unlikely friendship. She had found you robbing a store and watched as you burnt it to the ground with a lime green lighter. You could still hear the first words she said to you, “You’re coming with me, kid.”   And just like that, your life changed. Now you were a loyal (more like disloyal) pasta of Slenderman. You killed for him, listened to him, heck, you even trusted him. He just seemed so nice and inviting, until he tried to kill you. The

only reason you survived was because Clockwork stepped in, saying she would “teach you to be a better slave.”   She never did.   She lied to him, the almighty Slenderman, for you.   Now you could repay her, by comforting her at her worst.   “Shh, it’s ok,” You gently patted Clockwork’s back. “Natalie.”   “Thanks, bitch.” Clockwork sighed as she finally took a deep breath and wiped her tear-stained cheeks.   “Why… Why were you crying?” You asked hesitantly.   “I don’t know, probably just the air.” She reassured you, yet you knew it was a big, fat lie.   But that’s a problem for another day, you thought wearily. For now, you just wanted to stay with Clock- No, Natalie. You wanted to stay with Natalie, not Clockwork. Clockwork was just a persona, a wall protecting Natalie, the real thing. The only problem was that Natalie was faded, and she hated her own identity, especially her name. It doesn’t matter, she’s still my Clock. Your life sucked sometimes, but being with Natalie made it so much better. She gave you a reason to live, to enjoy life. And you were going to live to the fullest extent. Just for her.

—————

I'm sorry if the beginning didn't make much sense, but it is 2:35 am currently. :)

Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this. Have an awesome day! 👍👍

#creepypasta #creepypasta au #creepypasta fanfiction #clockwork #death mention #profanity #sad but sweet #sad but beautiful #clockwork x reader

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harryskalechips · 4 years ago

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It’s all about connections Part 2

A/N I really had fun writing this one! Thanks for reading and enjoy!

It’s been 3 months since Y/N and Harry broke up. Now, Olivia is trying to worm her way in and fully break off their connection.

Word count 3226

Part 1

Let’s backtrack a bit. Harry used to be in love with Oliva in high school. She was perfect. She was smart, pretty, funny… he was head over heels for her. But the moment, she chose to move to the United States, Harry was left by himself to attend his local university. What he didn’t realize was that Y/N, Olivia’s cousin was going to be seeing him… a lot.

3 years. 3 solid years of peace for Y/N. She was no longer competing with her cousin to satisfy her parents and she was finally in a serious relationship with Harry. The long drives home, the late night cuddles. He was everything she wanted but that was until she found out he only showed an interest in her in the first place because of Olivia.

Ring ring

Y/N quickly shoves the mascara wand back in the bottle as she leans to her side to pick up her phone on the bed. It was Olivia.

“Hey, Harry and I are in front of your house. You ready?” Olivia’s voice was utter velvet through Y/N’s speaker. It almost made Y/N stare at herself longer in the mirror. Maybe, I should change my outfit? She hates the inner voice in her head.

Ever since Harry and her broke up and decided to stay as friends, Olivia managed to squeeze herself in between the two when she moved back from Florida. It’s been three months and although Harry never showed or spoke about having interest in Oliva, Y/N couldn’t help but feel second best. Goddammit even her voice is pretty. It’s not like Y/N smoked 3 packs a day but Olivia was like the big bright moon that everyone notices. All she was is the little star that no one cared about unless she was falling.

“Yeah, alright I’m coming down.” Y/N ends the call as she steps behind her pink curtain to peak through her window. She specifically gazes down at Harry’s car to see him resting on the side door laughing with Olivia. Maybe, since you’re so in love with her, you guys can go on your own little date. Y/N makes a little rat face as her head tilts a bit side to side in annoyance.

“In the back!” Olivia smiles sweetly as she opens her window and gestures to her cousin to open the other door. Y/N nods with a tight lip as she locks the front door of her house and sets herself in Harry’s car.

His range rover. It’s a pretty expensive car to have as a university student but Harry’s family was well off. It’s not like it mattered to Y/N. She could be in any car of his as she would watch him drive.

Her eyes casually glance at the console in the middle and she gets mini flashbacks of the nights he would drive her home. How his hand would rest on her thigh. How he would laugh and smile as they shared their day with one another. His hand playing with hers as he stopped, waiting for the light to turn green. Now, here she was sitting in the backseat while he was in the front with the girl he was “madly” in love with.

“So before classes start again, I was thinking why don’t we go on a hike!” Olivia exclaims as Harry and Y/N just stare at her with wide eyes. This is how their new trio worked. Olivia made the plans, Harry would swing by to pick her and Y/N up and she would share the activity of the day as a surprise.

It used to be so simple though. Harry would drive to Y/N’s and he would cuddle her for maybe a couple minutes and then he would watch her get ready for their date. At least, they both knew where they were going the day before.

“Olive, I’m wearing my skinny jeans. How do you expect me to go hiking? (Fratboy!Harry) Y/N tries to hide her discomfort as she hears his old nickname for Olivia come off his lips.

“You’ll be fine H. It’s only like a 10 minute hike and then we’ll be at the top of this really nice cliff looking over lake Superior.” Luckily, Y/N chose to wear her tights and a basic top. She wouldn’t want to be the sweatiest one of the three.

“Should I go back inside to get some water bottles?”

“No, I packed our food and drinks!” Olivia turns back and laughs. She reaches over for Harry’s phone in the cup holder as she casually unlocks it. “Lemme just put in the address and we are all set to go!” Harry and Olivia must’ve been hanging out together without Y/N, how else can Olivia just take Harry’s phone and unlock it!

“Here take my hand, let me help you up.” Harry reaches down to Y/N. Currently, they were 15 minutes into the 10 minute walk Olivia mentioned when they were driving here. They were in Pukaskwa Conservational park. It truly offered a beautiful sight but the trail Olivia chose leading to the cliff was about 30 minutes.

“Thanks.” Y/N smiles at him as she steps on the rock to grab his hand. Olivia was already with Harry, looking around at the trees.

“Y/N, I got up here just fine. Maybe, you should hit the gym again.” Olivia teases as she walks beside Harry again. He wanted to speak up for Y/N but he bit his tongue. All he knew was Y/N did not need to go to the gym. She’s already fit. He turns around to see Y/N following right behind them as they continue to walk. Her bangs messily stuck to the side of her temples due to the late transition of summer going into autumn. She kept her eyes on the floor as she swung her teal water bottle back and forth. She is so pretty. Harry thought to himself.

Olivia catches him off guard as she wraps her arm around his. It wasn’t too shocking for him. She used to do that throughout high school and she’s been doing it quite frequently too lately. Olivia smiles at him as she continues to walk while he follows her.

“You would think to catch a pretty view like this, it would take only 10 minutes but it actually took 30.” Y/N dryly laughed as she stood at the edge of the cliff at a safe distance. Olivia was sitting on the blanket eating a bite of the pre packed salad in her plastic container while Harry sat next to her, writing something in his journal.

“Stop complaining.” Olivia laughs as she turns around to see Y/N walking towards them to sit on the blanket. “This is nice, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Y/N leans herself back on her hands as she looks at the sky with her shades on.

“What’s in that journal?” Olivia leans forward to check what Harry is writing in it.

“Oh, he likes to draw.” Y/N replies for him.

“Yeah, Y/N gave it to me for our 2nd anniversary. I’ve been using it since.” He cheekily smiles at Y/N as she gives a soft smile back.

“I never knew you liked to draw H. Can I see?” Olivia excitedly places her salad on the floor.

“Erm, no. Kinda private.” He shyly pulls away from her. The only person who has ever seen his drawings was Y/N.

“That’s alright.” Olivia smiles as she gives an apple to Y/N. “So who’s Evan?” She smirks at her as she takes a new bite of her salad.

“Evan?” Harry speaks up as he puts away his journal. He wasn’t finished his drawing but this topic seemed far more important “The guy who kept offering you rides last year?”

“Yeah.” Y/N bites into her apple. “He’s just a friend. Valerie and Mika have been busy so I’ve been hanging out with him.” She couldn’t help but watch Harry scoff.

“Olivia and I are here you know.”

“Well, you two hang out by yourselves. Why can’t I hangout with someone new?” Harry had his mouth parted a bit as he watched the pretty girl in front of him snap. Y/N probably thinks something is going on between them.

“Y/N, I swear when Harry and I hang out, we always consider inviting you. It’s just… well- You two broke up a couple months ago and I know Harry longer than you have. I just want to catch up with him. It’s been four years!”

“I never said I was mad about it. Harry brought it up first.” Harry couldn’t tell if Y/N was looking at him due to the shades she was wearing. Unfortunately, he couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous that she’s finally moving on.

“Ow, fuck!” Y/N sits her butt down on the dusty trail. They’ve been walking for 6 minutes on their way back to Harry’s car but it seemed like she must’ve twisted her ankle or something.

“Hey, you alright?” Harry leaves Olivia’s side as he walks back towards Y/N. He crouches beside her as he takes her ankle into his hands.

“It just hurts, I think I slipped on a twig.” He couldn’t help but laugh at clumsiness. “What? Don’t laugh!” She slaps his arm as he stands up.

“Alright, on my back you go.” He turns around and crouches in front of her. “Olive, mind carrying the bag now? Y/N fell.” Olivia slowly walks back towards them.

“Oh you broke your leg? Are you okay?” Olivia takes the bag and watches Harry adjust her cousin on his back.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“I thought you lost something so I kept walking.” She lets down her hair as she picks up the bag. “Did you slip on purpose so Harry can finish the trail for you?” Olivia teases as she walks beside Harry once again as they continue to walk.

“No.” Y/N’s eyes widen as she pulls her cheek off of Harry’s shoulder.

“It’s alright.” Harry smirks as he holds onto the back of Y/N’s thighs tighter. He could almost feel her legs clench as his hands went a bit higher.

“Maybe, next time we go on a hike, Harry can give me a piggyback too.” Olivia jokes as she opens her water bottle to take a sip. “Obviously kidding but I have to walk down and you don’t? Lucky.”

“Where are we heading?” Harry asks as he takes off his shirt and starts the car. Not only was today a warm day but after carrying Y/N down the trail for 20 minutes, he couldn’t help but feel very hot. Funny thing is, he couldn’t tell the two girls in the car with him had very red cheeks.

“Can we come back to mine?” Olivia questions as she licks her lips and asks Harry. “I have some drinks. We can hang out on the patio.” Harry turns around to look at Y/N. She was sitting horizontally with an ice pack the park staff gave her.

“You alright with that, love?” Harry bites his lip as he watches her. It was an accident to call her that.

“Yeah, alright.” Y/N was too shy to reject Olivia’s offering. Especially since she didn’t want to feel like a burden to Harry since he would have to drive her back.

It’s around 9 PM and after a box of pizza, the trio sat around the little bonfire Olivia had past her patio. “Do you like your new house?” Y/N asks as she roasted a marshmallow talking to her cousin. Harry was just glaring at the fire while Olivia was taking sips of her beer.

“Yeah. it’s bigger than the other two houses I’ve lived in.” She glances at Harry. “It’s nice to be back though. This is where I should’ve been the last four years.”

“Yeah, we missed you around here.” Y/N smiles. It wasn’t really a lie. As much as she felt overshadowed by Olivia, she was still one of her best friends.

“Oh, the lights turned off.” Olivia glares at the windows from her house. “I should go get a plastic bag so we can clean up our mess.” She pauses a bit before looking at the boy across from him. “Urm, Harry, can ya come with me?” She sits up and waits for him. Why does she need Harry?

“Okay.” He glances at Y/N eating her marshmallow.

“We will be right back. I just need Harry to help me grab the boxes at the top of our cabinets. It’s easier for him to grab one than for me to get a stool.”

Y/N just nods as she watches the fire. It didn’t matter what Oliva told her. It was suspicious that she needed Harry to grab some stupid box of bags.

2 minutes turned into 4 minutes. 4 minutes turned into 10.

Curiosity killed the cat as Y/N stood up to enter the house as well. She was wondering what was taking them long. She stepped into the dark hall to the kitchen only to hide near the doorway as the bright kitchen lights were on Olivia and Harry.

“Olivia, you’re crazy.” Harry whispers as he pushes Olivia away. He had a frustrated look on his face as he looked at the blonde haired girl.

“Haz, come on. We liked each other in high school. Why can’t we be together? You even said you were madly in love with me!”

“Yeah I was but not anymore. I don’t see you that way!” He combs his hand through his hair.

“Why because of Y/N? Her mom told my mom what you did to her. You wanted to see me again.” She rests her hand on Harry as she steps closer.

“I dated your cousin. You should know I’m off limits now.”

“Maybe that makes me want you more.” And with that, she leans in to kiss him. Harry out of shock puts his hand on her waist to push her off of him in a quick second

“Glad to see you guys found the garbage bags.” Y/N steps in as she throws the wrapped bag of marshmallows on the counter. “Also great to see you guys professing your love to each other...again.” Y/N bitterly comments as she turns around to leave the house.

“Y/N, wait.” Harry pulls away from Olivia. Why is Y/N always catching him with her at the wrong time?! “Olivia, don’t call me....again. I have to get her home.” He walks away to chase after his ex.

“Hey, where are you going?” He steps outside into the backyard as he watches Y/N put on her hoodie that he had in his car from a couple months back.

“I have to go home. Is Olivia going to put out the fire or you?” She asks without looking at him. Instead, she’s already tapping away on her phone.

“Olivia.” He answers as he walks towards her. “I’m giving you a ride home. You know that right?”

“Really, no it’s okay.” She shakes her head as she unlocks the gate. “Wouldn’t want to interrupt your little kissing session.” Harry takes her phone and closes the app before giving it back to her.

“Come on Y/N. No uber. You’re coming with me.”

She was sitting beside him in the front like the old times as he navigated through Y/N’s dark neighbourhood. Throughout the whole ride, she was silent and he wanted nothing more but to put his hand back on her thigh because it belonged there.

He stops the car a few houses from her’s. Harry wanted to make sure, she wouldn’t just leave his car without him talking to her first. He turns off the engine and faces her. He could notice her teary eyes as she had her arms crossed.

“You know I care about you right.” He whispers to her in the dark. He pauses briefly before rambling on. “I met you again when we were 18 at some house. You were really quiet but I noticed you talked a lot to Mika and Valerie during the parties that Mitch hosted. I remember catching eyes with you the first time. You were wearing a little naughty tube tank and those tight black jeans I adore you in. You flashed me a smile and I thought to myself, wow is that Y/N? She’s really pretty.” Harry leans his head on the head rest.

“It’s hard for me to tell the difference between love and infatuation but the moment we broke up, it was different from the way I felt when Olivia told me she was moving to the States.” Y/N lets her arms down as she plays with her nails.

“H. I get it. You love her. I was just a rebound.” Y/N shrugs her shoulders. Of course, he was infatuated with her and he was in love with Olivia.

“No. Not true. I’m in love with you. High school Harry didn’t notice high school Y/N but the Harry who is beside you right now does. I love you.”

“After Olivia practically kissed you and begged you to be with her? She’s your dream girl.” Harry just rolls his eyes as he takes her hand into his.

“A dream isn’t a fixed variable. Things change that dream. You changed that dream.” He watches her fingers play with his. After all, it wasn’t like Y/N was mad at him anymore. She was just hurt that she had to see her cousin try to steal Harry from her. “You’re my dream girl. You used to be mine but now it’s just another dream I wish would come true.”

“I’m sorry I broke up with you. She mimics his position. “I was hurt about your confession. Why couldn’t you tell me?”

“I know how you feel about her, Y/N. I didn’t want to make you feel less or a rebound. I’m not lying. I may have gotten excited that you would see her again before any of us do but I was and still am very much interested in you.”

“Okay.”

“Would you come back to me? Be my girlfriend again?”

“I don’t know. Are you trying to get Olivia jealous again? It worked the first time.” Y/N jokes as Harry moves his chair back so she can cross over the console to straddle him.

“It’s probably going to work again but I want nothing to do with her. I only want you, baby.”

“Mhm. Are you going to kiss me with that mouth of yours?” She teases him as she squints her eyes. Harry eagerly reaches forward to grab the neck of her hoodie so he can harshly rub his lips. “Not my fault okay!” He rubs his lips harder on the fabric that smells like her. “She kissed me out of nowhere. I had to push her off me.”

“Alright.” Y/N rolls her eyes as she kisses him.

“You know I would love to love to take you right here but I was thinking about going to your bedroom while your parents are asleep. I wanna fuck you properly. What do you think?” Y/N quickly pushes herself off him to sit back in her seat. Her eyes were wide as she heard what he said.

“What are you waiting for? Drive!”

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles angst #harry styles oneshots #harry styles imagines #harry styles fluff #one direction #best friend!harry #boyfriend!harry #frat boy!harry #harry styles x reader

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conaionaru · 4 years ago

Text

Woman’s game (Ivar the Boneless + Hvitserk)

Who is in control?

Synopsis: Skuld’s family leaves for the Mediterenean so she spends some more time with Ivar before he leaves as well.

Warnings: toxic relationship, casual sex, little bit of smut, talk of personality disorder, hints of sub and mommy kink, attempted good girl kink

Masterlist

I don’t own the gifs.

Today would be the day Bjorn set out on his journey, bringing everyone willing with him. Ylva sharpened her weapons peacefully, praying to the gods to keep her sons and daughter safe. The girl, of course, spends the day with Ivar once again. Loving the way the boy hangs onto her every word and challenges her right back.

So it was obvious that she slept with Ivar again. Out of all the men in Kattegat right now, her youngest had to choose Ragnar's son. Once upon a time, even Ylva found Ragnar worthy of her bed. But she was married and had too many children. All Ragnar ever wanted were sons to carry on his legacy; what a joke it would be if Skuld would be the one to carry on Ivar's?

What felt like a thousand years ago, she lest her beloved husband to Ragnar's whims. And so all her attraction to the handsome king faded as well. Now, whenever she drank, she dreamt of all the ways of paying him back.

But the great Ragnar Lothbrok was very capable of destroying himself on his own. Taking a second wife, not raising his son, nearly killing his youngest, and abandoning them all. Now he was just a shell, while she has everything: children, loyal followers and allies, riches, and a throne.

All her children made her proud, and the older they got, the prouder she became.

Egil was their first child and looked like his father with his fair hair. Very responsible, but he had her anger and temper. How proud she was when he presented Liv to her. His lovely wife gave him a daughter soon enough. And the glory of battle overshadowed the need for an heir. Liv was, of course, too content to tell him she wanted more children. So Egil sailed to possibly imaginary lands and left Liv and Kara to watch after the earldom.

Gunne was a troublemaker since birth, so keen to annoy people. He had no problem with women or battle. So when he settled down with Hjordis, Ylva believed her a witch. But he grew calmer and boasted about his pretty wife that could dance the whole night away and never tire. Out of all her good daughters, Ylva liked the cheeky Hjordis the most.

Another favorite was Þórfríðr, Stigandr's wife. The third born was everything Ylva hated. Silent, shy, and unsure. Þórfríðr charmed him because she knew what she wanted and told him to do the same. The only place he was sure and precise was the battlefield. People may underestimate him, but in battle, he would always win.

Despite being the fourth son, Brandr worried about his siblings the most. He had a pure heart and will of steel. No luck with finding a wife and giving Ylva more grandchildren, but that's not everything in life. What matters is that he survives and lives on.

Haldor may not give her any grandchildren, but that doesn't matter. His curly hair and adorable smile warmed her heart the first time she saw him. He didn't scream like the others, only whined and snuggled closer. That attitude never really left him.

Skuld was the youngest. A little bit spoiled, but she was where Ylva bet her money on. She was wicked, intelligent, and brave, so much like her mother. Sometimes, Ylva worried for Skuld's mind. The girl didn't cry either when she was born. There had only been silence. But the babe wasn't dead; it just looked around with tired eyes, silently judging everyone. The more Skuld grew, the stranger she seemed.

She didn't follow cry when she fell; friends always surrounded her that she didn't care about and had no problem with violence. At first, Ylva thought it was her brothers' fault, but when she found her eight-year-old cutting herself, she knew it wasn't the truth. Apparently, she wanted to see how blood looked like up close, and Brandr ran away before she could find out.

Over time, her behavior lessened, and all that was left behind was charm and cunning. But sometimes, Ylva saw the same dangerous glint in her eyes as that day. And yet, she thought of Skuld as her best child. Her youngest had the best chance of moving up in the world and becoming successful.

That's why she allowed this charade with the Ragnarsson. As long as Skuld was enjoying herself, the danger of her violent side was low. And a Prince was better than the usual company she kept.

"Aren't you a confident virgin?"

"I am not a virgin anymore; you know that," Ivar growled into her ear, flipping under him and changing the slow teasing pace that she set. "Are you not enjoying yourself?"

"I had worse." Skuld teased, wrapping her legs around his waist so he can go deeper, and scratched her nails down his nacked back. "But I also had better. So speed up, Ivar."

The Ragnarsson growled like a feral beast and bit into her collar bone to ground himself. With rougher trusts, he made the headboard bang against the wall so even his brothers will hear. He wanted them to remember the sounds and prove he was a man, and Margrethe just wasn't worthy of his cock.

Not like Skuld, who took his dick like she was born to do it. When she wasn't naked around him, she joked with him and smirked like a sly fox. To think that he didn't want her anywhere near him not even two days ago. And now, after round four, he felt like he found himself the perfect match.

"How about now?" He whispered into her ear; she didn't answer, probably didn't even hear him with how loud she was moaning. With one last high pitched moan, she shuddered under him and came. He followed five trusts later and collapsed next to her.

"A shame you will leave soon. Your mother will probably give me the cold shoulder the moment you sail off."

"Why?"

Skuld chuckled and rolled over to drape over his sweaty torso. "Her darling boy is leaving on a dangerous journey. And he chooses to spend his last moments home, fucking the guest."

"Mother had me my whole life. It's only fair you had me for a little bit. I am doing what she asked of me before you came here." Ivar chuckled and pulled her closer, careful not to touch her back. She had limits just like him, he never showed his legs, and she never turned her back to him or let him touch it. Whatever the reason, he didn't really care as long as he got laid. "I am being a good host and paying you attention."

"How nice of you." She teased back, sitting up and leaving his bed again. This time not only to drink something like before. She picked up her discarded orange dress and put it on.

"You leaving already?"

"I have places to be. They are sailing away today, remember? I can't warm your bed for the whole day. I need breaks too."

"Not necessarily. You can still walk. That means you can come a few more times."

Skuld smirked at him and brushed his hair away from his face. "I created an insatiable monster."

"You could sate the beast like a good girl." Ivar tried the words, waiting for any indication that she liked the new kink. But Skuld chuckled and trailed her hands down his chest to paw at his cock.

"Or you could take what is offered and stop complaining like a spoiled brat. Be a good boy and get dressed." She drew her hand away from his lap and left him alone, looking dazed from her words. With a chuckled, he threw the furs off and left his bed.

Skuld walked to the shore where everyone was already present. Haldor was chatting with another man who enjoyed the attention. Her brother had some fun before he was supposed to leave as well. Good for him.

"I was worried you wouldn't see me off, Sweetheart." She turned on her heel to see the Ragnarssons standing there, waiting for their mother to stop talking to Harald and say her goodbyes.

"Maybe I came to take you to Valhalla before you could slay any enemies. Who are you to know?" Hvitserk grinned at her bold joke and moved closer to her.

He leaned to her ear and whispered softly. His breath lightly teasing her skin. "A shame I didn't have as much fun as you did. You are rather loud, you know?"

"I am aware, thank you. Thank the gods your brother will leave soon. Otherwise, I will die of exhaustion."

"I could talk to him if you want," Ubbe suggested only for her to shake her head.

"Let him. I am sure you were all the same. I still see the insatiable spark in your eyes as well." With the last sentence, she turned her eyes to Hvitserk, who was not hiding the fact that he ogled her chest. The second oldest smirked at her, no hints of shame, watching her as her oldest brother whisked her away.

"Another Ragnarsson, really? Isn't one enough?"

"If I were you, I would worry more about my survival than my sister's bed friends."

Egil rolled his eyes at her attitude and led her to the rest of their family, waiting for her. "Why, you think I won't make it? Do you truly have so little faith in me? Who do you think I am?"

"I think you are an idiot and annoying. Now leave me be, Egil." She seethed back at him and strode over to the rest of their family.

Ylva smiled a sad smile at her and drew her youngest to her. With uncharacteristically soft hands, she took her face in her palms and stroked her cheeks. "Stay close to Aslaug. She won't let anything happen to you."

"How can you be so certain? She has no place in her heart for anything other than her sons and wine." Skuld rolled her eyes at her mother's advice. She still saw the plan to leave her behind as a stupid decision.

It would have been better for Skuld to stay in Yugar and rule in her mother's place, instead of the three good-daughters that had the duty now. Placing her in Aslaug's household was a strategic move, a sign of trust and peace. If the Queen were to break it, she would face the rage of the Lioness and her five ferocious cubs.

"Maybe not, but she is clever and knows how to avoid war. Our relationships have strained enough thanks to her husband. The very one she despises as well. So going against him and entrusting you into her hands..."

"Is the perfect way to give her a sense of power with her hands still tied." Ylva nodded and kissed Skuld's hair as one last goodbye before departing for her journey. She hugged all her brothers as well. No matter how annoying they would get, they were family. And family always supports each other, especially if possible death looms over them. And with their tendency to get hurt in battle, this may be the last time they see each other.

"Keep your wits sharp, Skuld. May Freya protect you." Gunne whispered into her ear and passed her something wrapped in a cloth. He winked at her as he departed and sailed away.

Skuld's face was devoid of all emotion as her family grew smaller and smaller. In Kattegat, she was a stranger and probably rumored a whore. How much easier it would be for her to leave in the black of the night and return home—seeing Kara running around covered in mud while Liv scolded her halfheartedly. Hjordis stitching on the loom while Þórfríðr mocked her shaking fingers alongside Skuld.

But Ylva made a choice and gave her an order, if Skuld were to disobey, she would be punished. The last time she did it, her mother placed guards outside her door that chased away any lovers. Not even the thralls were allowed to be by her side. And that was only for being late to a meeting with another Earl.

When the small dots on the sea were gone, Skuld retreated to her family's hut. She sat down near the gone out fire and unwrapped the gift from her brother. Inside the cloth was a simple dagger with a wooden handle. It was light and easy to manipulate.

"Keep your wits sharp, huh?" She held the blade up for closer inspection and smirked in delight. It was a truly perfect gift. Skuld settled the dagger in her lap and teased her fingertips over the edge.

Skuld tucked the weapon away in her corset and left the silent hut. First, she must gather allies. And the best way to do that is to mingle with the common folk. Finding sympathies in Aslaug's court would be impossible; right now, the only trump card she holds over the Queen is that she saw her son naked.

The people in the market watched her walk by; she sent them smiles, playing the brave, lonely Lady. Slave traders, slaves, merchants, farmers - all useless to her right now. A merchant's ship would be a good escape in case of need. But they move on too fast, and she can't strike a deal with every boat that comes here. What she needs are whisperers. Little unseen things that will tell her all they know. And won't tell a soul they tattled to her.

"Margrethe! I would say it's fate that we meet, but that would be a lie. After all, I live where you work." The blonde slave smiled at her and shifted her hands in unease. "Would you like to walk with me?"

Of course, the girl had no other choice but to do as told. And so, Skuld led her away from the crowd by the arm. Smiling the whole time innocently. "Say, Margrethe... Does Ivar still bother you?"

Margrethe shook her head but still looked uneasy. She looked up at the taller female and leaned closer as if to tell a secret. "Did he...Did he hurt you?"

Skuld chuckled and pulled the scared girl closer to whisper into her ear. "In a way. But nothing I didn't like. Did he hurt you?"

"Yes."

Skuld frowned at the revelation. "Since the feast?"

"No... I only see him during meals. He doesn't even look at me." Margrethe confessed and looked at Skuld in confusion. It was weird of a foreigner to question thralls like this. The only one who ever asked her if she was okay was Sigurd, and he fucked her right after.

"That is good. I saw how uncomfortable you were that night. And I felt sorry. I also wanted to apologize for my flirting. I was drunk and wanted to lighten the mood. But I think I just made you more uncomfortable."

"It is alright."

Skuld shook her head and let Margrethe into an empty alley away from prying eyes. "Ivar is a cruel person, as we both know. And it would be better for everyone if they didn't know what we know. Or he might become even worse."

"I don't know what you are talking about." Margrethe denied, fully well knowing what the Earl's daughter was talking about. There was only one thing connecting them, and that was that they both slept with Ivar. Or attempted to in the thralls case.

"He told me, Margrethe. There is no need to deny it. And we don't have to talk about it. I know that night must have been scary. I just want you to know not to tell anyone."

"I told." The blonde whispered, scared, her eyes terrified. Skuld wondered what the cripple Prince did to her after he failed to get hard. A simple failed fuck would scare her so much. "I told Sigurd."

Skuld bit her lip at the dumb girl's actions. Scared or not, seeking refuge by the brother that spat venom at Ivar was stupid. One argument, and he might use it against Ivar, leaving Margrethe as the only possible source, especially when Skuld told the brothers that she and Ivar had no such problems.

"Don't worry. If Sigurd thinks you a liar, he won't spread the news. All I must do is prove them wrong. I did most of the job already. Just a few more things, and he will think Ivar more than capable."

"And how will you do that?" The wide eyes blonde stepped closer to Skuld. Trying to hear what plan the young female hatched.

Skuld leaned into her ear and whispered slowly, watching for any possible interruptions or witnesses. "Go to a healer and ask for Moon tea. Mention my name as often as possible. Ask for some herbs against pains as well. Say he left marks, and I ordered you to go there. Say anything that might sell the story, bruises, bite marks, even blood."

"Tell some slaves as well - the ones that spread the most rumors. I will walk with a slight limp and wince when I sit down. Moan and scream louder than before so everyone will hear. If they ask you what happened that night, you tell them naught. Deny any accusation and seem shifty. As if you lied about the whole thing."

Skuld pulled away after she was done whispering and watched the thrall try to remember the plan. "That will work. Thank you."

"No need to thank me. We, strong women, should work together. That's the only way we might survive men like Ivar. Always one step ahead. If there is anything you know that could help us..."

"The Queen..." Margrethe trailed off, not sure if she should tell or not.

"Yes..."

She swallowed and looked around as if the woman would jump out at any moment. "She isn't fond of you. This morning she ordered Ivar to stop seeing you, but he protested and said he wouldn't. She thinks you a spy or that you have ulterior motives. Hvitserk just thinks you horny."

"That's more or less it. I am also bored and want Aslaug to regret her choice of taking me in. I could be at home annoying my good-sisters and niece instead of diddling her darling son. But thank you for the information anyway. I will remember your words well. Now go before someone finds us."

Margrethe ran off as Skuld watched her go, a deep sense of satisfaction sets in. Playing kind and concerned was as easy as breathing by now. Faking what people want to see or hear is easier than others think. Soon enough, they turn into little birds, fluttering around and gathering whispers and rumors—easy pray and yet useful. The more they believe you protect them and care for them, the more loyal they become.

During the night, Ivar sat next to her, propped on one arm. He was leaning over her with a frown on his face and kept pestering her. "Then why did you come to my bed if you don't want to sleep with me?!"

"I was lonely." Skuld shrugged her shoulders and looked at him with a teasing smirk. She was not hiding the fact that she is lying right into his eyes. "And maybe I wanted to be toughed kindly instead of being mauled by a beast."

Ivar looked away from her and laid back down. Refusing to even look at her as a spoiled child would. "Oooh. Don't be like that, Ivar. I want affection, give me some, and we can play." The young Prince continued to look away, pretending that he didn't hear her.

Skuld pulled a face at his stubbornness and rolled onto her side to catch his gaze. "Don't make me beg..."

"If you keep being difficult, I won't get in the mood at all..."

Skuld rolled her eyes, and forcefully turned his head to her. She held his cheeks in a tight grip, digging her thumb into his jaw in a warning. "I don't like being ignored, boy. So either you pay attention, or I will leave you to play all by your lonesome. How embarrassing would that be, huh?"

Ivar watched her with nearly black eyes, charmed by her rough treatment, and hissed words in a fake sweet tone. "What do you want?"

Skuld smirked and loosened her grip a little, caressing the tender spots with her thumb instead. "Hold me for a bit, and you can do what you want later on."

"Anything I want?" Ivar rasped out, looking like an addict with his drug right in front of him but still out of reach. She smirked in victory and patted his cheek mockingly.

"Within reason and boundaries. You do anything I don't like, and you will be punished. I am not a slave; remember that." The Ragnarsson nodded and pulled her against his chest, stroking her auburn hair with uncharacteristic gentleness. Maybe he wasn't a lost cause after all and just needed a firm hand.

After the cuddles, Skuld kept her promise and let him fuck her how he wanted. The boy saw some positions that he wanted to try, so they had a few rounds before they were both spent. As Skuld laid on her back with Ivar sleeping with his head on her chest, she watched the shadows on the ceiling.

Her dagger was on the floor, buried under her dress. For whatever reason other than brotherly worry, Gunne thought she needed a weapon. What he knew, he didn't tell. But there was something big coming if he was worried for her safety enough to arm her.

Ivar whined on her chest and buried his head deeper between her breasts. One of them hidden under his calloused hand, sleepily squeezing the boob. She sighed and scratched her nails over his scalp to lull him back to sleep, choosing to rest as well.

#vikings #history vikings #ivar the boneless #slow burn #Hvitserk Ragnarsson #Hvitserk #hvitserk lothbrok #ivar #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #ivar imagine #vikings imagine #hvitserk imagine #original character #original female character #ivar x oc #hvitserk x oc

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dukethomas · 4 years ago

Text

Summary: Duke and Damian, over the years.

Written for @duketectivecomics’ Duke Week! Day Four is Reverse Robin, though I modified it so it could be Reverse Batfam. Reverse Batkid? Still works.

Duke is nine. He’s Batman’s partner, Lark, and helping Batman punch the living daylights out of criminals helps him forget his parents’ grins and their laughter, and his laughter. (Bruce benches him whenever he’s working on a Joker case. Duke doesn’t complain.) It’s fun, and he’s good at it.

However, he’s heard enough about the League of Assassins, and he’s watched footage in training of Bruce fighting off a whole horde of Assassins (with a capital A) to know that these guys aren’t to be trifled with. And while Duke has spirit and guts and instinct and smarts, what he doesn’t have is the grace anyone in that footage has. He’s still training. He has a long way to go.

And he definitely can’t fight off an Assassin on his own. He’ll try, sure, but he has his limits.

So when he runs to open the door—he and Alfred have made a game out of it, because they kept running into each other whenever the doorbell rung. Whoever gets there first gets a fresh batch of cookies or tea made just for them by the loser—his eyes widen and his jaws drop when he sees Talia al Ghul.

And a boy, who’s taller than him, so Duke assumes he’s older. The boy sniffs and turns his nose up at Duke.

A few seconds too late, Duke settles into his fighting stance. His fists are up and he stares down Talia al Ghul and the boy, hoping something in his eyes would tell them to back down, something steely and indomitable, like all the books say.

Talia al Ghul chuckles. “Down, boy,” she says, her eyes glittering with mirth. “Neither of us intend to cause harm.”

“Speak for yourself,” the boy mutters, glancing at Duke, but Talia al Ghul doesn’t seem to hear it. The boy is unsettlingly quiet and still for someone who doesn’t even look that much older than Duke. He holds himself weirdly. It’s not unlike the entitled rich kid pose, but it’s also tense and lax at the same time.

Like how Bruce fights, Duke realizes. His mind is tense but his body is calm.

“Uh,” he says ever so eloquently. “Bruce! Alfred!”

Bruce shows up three minutes later, and the boy inhales sharply, but softly. Duke is already getting tired of the oxymorons.

“This,” Talia al Ghul says with a light flourish, “is your son. Damian al Ghul Wayne.”

I’m sorry, what?

Duke glances back at Bruce to see what he thinks, and Bruce’s eyebrows are tightly knit together. “You told me you lost the child,” he murmurs.

“I lied,” responds Talia al Ghul, a line of regret tracing her nonchalant tone. “My father’s wishes.”

And what happens after devolves into boring grown-up talk, so Duke stops paying attention. He keeps an eye on their respective body languages, in case this turns into a fight.

But he hates being by adults who are talking without him with nothing else to do, so he turns to the boy—Damian.

“Our names both start with a D,” he offers, smiling at Damian.

Damian doesn’t smile back. Instead, he scoffs, and says nothing else. What Duke has gathered is that Damian was raised with the League of Assassins, which means chances of him being an Assassin too are nearly one-hundred percent. But Talia al Ghul has years, decades, maybe centuries of training on Damian, and Damian can’t hide the worry in his eyes nearly as well. Plus, Duke’s good at reading people, Bruce says it’s a talent.

So he tries again to talk to Damian. “You’re coming to stay with us, right?” A small nod. Success! “I gotta show you all the good places to hide. It won’t hide us from Alfred, because Alfred knows all, but if you don’t want to listen to Bruce, well.” He gestures at Bruce and Talia al Ghul jabbering on about something adult-y.

“Tt,” is the only sound that comes from Damian, and it’s the third oxymoron so far. It’s simultaneously amused and disapproving, and that’s when Duke thinks he knows the problem.

Damian has a shadow cast over him, a long and dark one he can’t seem to shake.

Well, that’s fine. Duke has always clung to the light better than the shadows, he’ll just be Damian’s light as well as Batman’s.

Damian doesn’t warm up to Duke quickly, though not for lack of trying on Duke’s part. The older boy keeps brushing him away and getting all huffy, and downright rude. Once Duke sneaks up on Damian and he whips around with a blade pointed towards Duke’s head. Yeesh.

Duke eventually decides it’s easier to stay away. Do his Lark business, go to school, let Bruce deal with Damian.

And he thinks Damian resents him for that. Duke can see why—Bruce gets all stiff and cold with Damian, like he was in the first month of Duke living there, but he’s caught Damian lingering in the doorway of Duke’s bedroom watching Bruce hover around Duke more than once—but honestly? He’s just tired of it. And he wishes he could help, but clearly there’s something deeper there.

Still. Duke doesn’t dislike Damian. Damian’s just… rough around the edges. And sometimes those rough edges are deadly and sharp and Alfred tells him to stay away from knives in the kitchen (even though Duke’s fought off goons with knives before).

(And Duke’s used to rough edges, he thinks, shuddering as a boisterous laugh comes from the TV when he does his homework.)

“Hey, Batman?” he asks one night during a stakeout.

Bruce looks over to him, eyebrow clearly raised even if Duke can’t see it through the cowl.

Duke shines his flashlight into Bruce’s eyes, earning him a curse and a scowl. “When are you going to talk to Dami—um, D?”

“Put that down,” Bruce commands gently, pulling the flashlight away, but Duke just redirects it. “I’ve been talking to him.”

“Yeah, to tell him off! When are you going to treat him like your son, B? You treat me more like a son than him, and I’m not even—” He cuts himself off. “I’m not even your son.” Which shouldn’t feel like it’s gnawing at him inside to say, because it’s true. Doug Thomas is his dad and will always be, but…

He shakes his head. The focus is on Damian right now.

“Are you ever going to let him… y’know?” he blurts. He’s always finding Damian in the Cave (Batcave, Duke insists, but Bruce just ruffles his hair) wielding his sword. He has half a mind to ask Damian to train with him, because Duke knows if he wants to be better, he has to learn from the best. And Damian looks incredible when he practices. All fluid and graceful, like he learned how to fight before he could walk.

Bruce’s hand reaches towards Duke, then draws back. “We don’t use lethal methods, Lark.”

“Then teach him non-lethal methods.”

The answer seems clear as daylight to Duke, though evidently, not so much to Bruce. He hopes it helps anyways.

And then the thugs they’re on the lookout for walk into the warehouse with a confident swagger, and it’s showtime. By the time they’re done, Duke is grinning and bouncing, saying, “I just knocked that guy out, did you see that? That was so cool!”

Batman never loses his stony demeanor while in costume, but if the edges of Bruce’s mouth curve upwards on the Batmobile ride home, Duke knows to not tell anyone.

Unfortunately, his dreams are less than pleasant.

It’s his parents again. When is it not? They’re pressed up against the glass, his mom has this crooked smirk, and she snarls at him. She bangs her fist on the glass and yells, “I’m going to kill you!”

Duke backs up, finding only a foot of space between the glass and the wall behind him. “Mom,” he croaks out, but she doesn’t hear. She never does. “Mom, it’s me, it’s Duke, your son.” His eyes burn and tears come spilling out.

The lights flicker once, twice, before zapping out completely, leaving him and his parents in darkness.

His mom cackles, and tells him, “I know. I know!” and she’s more aware than she’s been in months, and she barrels her head into the glass. It cracks, shards of glass flying around Duke.

A plea is on his lips as she lunges at him, and he jolts up, his shirt damp with sweat.

He’s in his bedroom at Wayne Manor, he dully realizes. He’s still shrouded with darkness, but his parents aren’t here. They had considered moving his parents on the grounds, but ultimately decided against it.

He lets himself pant, gripping his bedsheets. Would he be a bad son if he thinks that was a good decision?

Duke hears footsteps outside his door and freezes, his heart pounding in his ears. He squeezes his eyes shut.

Someone opens the door, and there’s a click—a familiar one, from the light switch. Duke cranes his neck to see Damian entering, the older boy awkward and groggy in his movements, but there.

Damian is still in the doorframe, his eyes roaming the room and looking anywhere but at Duke. Something gleams in his left pocket. “I heard… there were screams. Did you need something, Thomas?”

“Please,” Duke whispers, eyes wide and staring at the shadow behind Damian. “Can I have a hug?”

Damian pauses, steps back, then moves forward, making a beeline towards Duke. He envelops Duke into a hug, oddly detached and patting Duke on the back, but a hug nonetheless. Duke leans into the touch, feeling a tear roll down his face and onto Damian’s shirt. “Sorry,” he mumbles, his throat tight.

“It’s… alright,” Damian replies. “I was already awake. And I have other items of clothing.”

For some reason, that brings on the sobs into full-force, with Duke gasping for breath as he lets it all out. Damian is there, still patting Duke on the back until it becomes a rhythmic comfort.

Duke doesn’t know when he drifts off to sleep, but he wakes up with Damian’s shirt draped over him with his green blanket.

Sunshine slips in through the curtains, hastily pulled open, as sunshine blooms in Duke’s chest. He sprints downstairs, jumping and skipping stairs like he’s walking on air.

“Slow down, Master Duke!” Alfred reprimands, and Duke shrugs and does as Alfred says, but only a little bit.

He almost runs straight into Damian, but he stops himself just in time. He opens his mouth to thank Damian, but Damian furrows his eyebrows at Duke and says, “Did you talk to Father? He spoke to me about training,” and a tension has been lifted from Damian’s shoulders. He’s springier.

“I think?” Duke says, knocking his knuckles on his head trying to recall what else happened last night. “Yeah?”

Damian stares at him, his brown eyes meeting Duke’s own with a hint of something gleaming in the light. “Thank you,” he tells Duke honestly.

“No problem!” Duke chirps. And before he can take it back, he says, “That’s what brothers are for.”

(He doesn’t take it back when asked about it later. The term “brothers” feels right, even if they only started having amiable conversations last night. He doesn’t think about the implications.)

It’s six months of non-lethal training until Damian is deemed fit to go out into the field. Duke leans on Damian’s shoulder as the older boy sketches out a mannequin with armor. It’s when “Shadow” is written in neat cursive that Duke realizes it’s meant to be Damian’s suit.

He blinks, his eyes drooping.

He doesn’t have patrol tonight, or tomorrow for that matter, but he really needs to lay off the late-night patrols. And the late-night training. He doesn’t want to fall asleep in the middle of class.

“That looks cool,” he comments, taking in the design. It’s gray and black, a bat in the chest. Damian fills in the outline of a cowl, and—

“Hey, wait, is this just a mini Batman costume?”

Damian stiffens. Almost imperceptibly, but Duke is busy soaking up Damian’s warmth right now, so he notices.

Duke moves the desk lamp so he can see the drawing more clearly. “C’mon, Damian,” he says, “I know you can be more original than this.”

“Tt,” Damian responds, still tracing over the lines he’s already drawn. “It has already proven itself to be a suitable design; why bother?”

A curl falls in front of Duke’s eyes, and he blows it away. Huffs, puffs, and the whole shebang. “Because you’re not Bruce? I have my own suit. I chose the colors!” Yellow with black accents, because it’s always been a hopeful color for Duke, and that’s what he wants to inspire—hope. Also, it’s a lark color scheme, minus brown, because wearing brown? Yuck.

Yeah, sure, Lark has been described as a child flashlight several times, but Duke stands by his decision. Even now, thinking about his suit makes him smile.

Damian pauses for a while after that. His hand stills. “Are you suggesting Father isn’t someone I should aspire to be like?”

“Be like,” Duke points out. “Not be. Seriously. I think you would look really cool in green!”

A scoff comes from Damian at that. “I chose the name Shadow for a reason, I will not go out in bright colors and compromise stealth.”

Duke yawns and snuggles closer into Damian’s shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Dami. I’m just saying, you don’t have to be Batman.” His eyes close, and it’s a sweet relief. Damian doesn’t respond for a while, so Duke adds, voice soft, “I think Lark looks cooler than Batman, anyhow.”

He wakes up on Damian’s bed, the older boy and his sketch conspicuously missing. When Duke heads down to the Batcave for training, he sees a new paper pinned. He recognizes the swoopy thin lines of Damian’s art, but the design is totally new.

The suit is wicked cool, dark gray and all jagged edges where the Batman suit has smooth lines, and a little circle to the side of the chest with a Bat rather than one spread across the chest. It’s cloaked rather than caped, the hood concealing hair instead of a cowl. A black domino mask with white lenses covers the eyes. Golden accent lines run throughout the suit, and Duke wonders if people affiliated with the Bat can only really have one color scheme: black, gray, and yellow or gold.

He grins, looking at it, but turns at the quiet footfalls he’s been learning to recognize.

“Good morning!” he chirps at Damian, who’s rubbing the grogginess out of his eyes. Despite that, he’s already dressed, wearing a forest green sweater and black jeans.

Damian half-smiles and arches an eyebrow. “Do you still believe that Lark’s suit is the coolest?”

And c’mon, Duke has to defend his honor. He sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry. “Always and forever.”

“Well then, it appears you have been misinformed,” Damian hums.

Damian’s suit is completed within the week, and Duke has to admit—it looks even cooler when it’s real. Lark’s is still the best, though.

Duke would be lying if he says he isn’t dumbfounded every time he gets to visit the Watchtower. It’s in outer freakin’ space, of course he’s impressed. His headquarters is a literal cave. Even with four years as Lark under his belt, his jaw still drops.

Batman’s here for a routine League meeting. Normally, he and Damian don’t come with, but another sidekick—Duke makes a face at the word, he prefers the term partners, but the media sticks with that—debuted the other day. He goes by Kid Flash, and he seems pretty cool. Duke’s looking forward to meeting him… if the Flashes ever showed up on time.

Which they do not. So Duke and Damian wait, along with some others—Aqualad, Teen Lantern, Red Arrow, and Crush this time around—with Hawkwoman as their babysitter of sorts. She’s not the most thrilled with this assignment, but Duke can’t blame her, it’s pretty boring.

Duke and Damian sit with each other by the wall. Superboy should have been here but he and Superman had civilian duties to take care of, so they sit in comfortable silence.

He gives up within two minutes. It’s just too long to wait while doing nothing. He stands up to have a look around the Watchtower, maybe he can even find that huge window that shows off the expanse of space. His English teacher will love the words he writes about it.

Something catches his eye, a dull silver in the edges of his vision. Duke heads towards it, and to his delight, Hawkwoman left her mace on a table. A grin splits his face and he reaches out to hold it.

“What are you doing?” Damian hisses from behind him, pulling his hands away from the mace. “Don’t touch that!”

“But Shadow!” Duke argues. “It’s right there! It’s not even harmful, I think! It’s made out of alien metal, right? That’s so baller, I have to feel it for myself.”

Damian sighs and puts his head in his gauntlet-covered hands. “Nth metal, Lark. It’s made of Nth metal, and is potentially very dangerous.”

Duke takes the spare moment of distraction to hold the Nth metal, and he grins up into the ceiling. A mistake, he realizes as industrial lights beam down at him, causing him to squint and glance down.

Damian moves forward to pull the mace out of his hands, except there’s a quality to him, a certain golden sheen, and Duke backs up. He blinks, and Damian hasn’t even moved, but then he does, again, in the exact same way as before.

Damian’s lenses widen. “Lark, let that go. Now!” he commands. “It has an effect on you. Your eyes are—”

Duke blinks a few more times, not hearing the rest of that. His vision is so much sharper now. It’s making him a little dizzy, but he doesn’t say that.

Instead, he does let go of the mace, and it clatters to the floor noisily.

“Shadow,” he blurts, lurching forward.

Damian catches him and pulls him up into an embrace. Duke may be twelve now, but he’s reminded of his dad’s hugs. Firm and protective. He leans into it. “Are you alright?” Damian whispers into Duke’s ear.

Duke’s vision swims with lights and colors and brightness. He buries his face into Damian’s chest, relishing the darkness. He nods.

Damian’s hand rests on Duke’s back. “We’ll… we’ll figure this out,” he promises.

Duke swallows down a glass of punch at the side of the room in the middle of a gala. It slides down his throat and sloshes around in his stomach uneasily.

He stares at Cass, quiet for a ten-year-old but the brightest person in the room. Everywhere she goes, by Bruce’s side or not, people flock to her and their gazes are drawn in her direction. She glides through the gala graceful as the moon, but with the attention she’s getting, you’d think she’s the sun.

The gala is being held in celebration of Bruce’s adoption of Cass. A darling princess for the Wayne lineage, says one newspaper. Bruce Wayne’s pity adoptee, sneers another.

And Duke can relate. Bruce and Alfred tried to hide it from him, but the tabloids didn’t have anything good to say about him either. But Duke’s mind lingers on the difference.

He shakes his head, staring at his deep brown eyes through the cerise lense of the punch. It’s silly. Of course Bruce wouldn’t adopt him; Duke has perfectly good parents already. It would make the paperwork easier should—when his parents get cured.

“Something’s wrong,” Damian observes, walking up behind Duke.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Duke replies, ignoring the way his chest twists at the words.

He can practically feel Damian raise his eyebrows. “You’re lying, and we both know it. Come with me, Duke.”

Duke follows without a retort, and Damian leads him to the balcony. The gentle moonlight and starlight welcomes him more than the harsher lights of the chandeliers inside ever have.

“Since when did you become the emotionally intuitive one?” Duke asks, crossing his arms over the railing.

Damian huffs. “I am still not aware of what’s going on with you. But I am… I’m your older brother. It’s my duty.”

Duke hums at that. The description resonates deep in his bones, a familiar comfort, and it had never felt wrong. More like puzzle pieces snapping together.

Brother often means they share a father. It just as often can mean they do not. And Duke didn’t think they did—did they?

“It’s not Cass’ fault,” he says, playing a mental game with the Gotham skyline. He always tries to find his old neighborhood, before he got taken in by Bruce. It helps him remember, so one day, he might come home and he wouldn’t have forgotten. “It’s my brain that’s being fucky.”

“Language,” Damian reprimands under his breath. He then speaks in a louder tone, now meant for Duke’s ears. “I didn’t think so. You were never the resentful type. I’m grateful for that.”

Duke throws his head back to laugh. Five years ago, Damian would rather stab him than talk about feelings like this. Duke wanted to train with Damian. Funny how things change. “No, it’s—it’s something else. Bruce adopted Cass. That’s what’s bothering me, I think.”

Damian tilts his head at Duke. “Would you prefer for Father,”—Baba, now, behind closed doors, but Duke wouldn’t pry—“to adopt you?”

“No. I don’t think so. Would I? I already have a dad.” Duke sucks in a breath. He’d gone to visit them last weekend. No improvements, as per usual. Not even lucid enough to give Duke death threats.

“Family isn’t bound by blood,” Damian reminds him softly. “I have a brother now, and a sister. Who’s to say you can’t have two fathers?”

Duke blinks rapidly. His finger brushes the corner of his eye and comes away wet. “And I’m not a bad son? I’m not abandoning my dad for Bruce?”

“Absolutely not.”

And just like that, a dam bursts. One tear rolls down Duke’s cheeks, then another, then several more. Despite this, hope settles into his chest with the cool touch of the moon and stars.

“Thank you, Dami,” Duke says, jumping into a hug with the taller boy (though Damian won’t remain that for long—Duke shot up rapidly in the last year or so, and he’s quickly approaching Damian’s height).

Damian returns the hug, his chin warm against Duke’s shoulder when he tells Duke, “Anytime.”

Damian is dead.

Duke’s breath hitches, with quiet little Cass by his side and Steph and Harper there for moral support. The funeral is closed casket—the cover story had been kidnappers and an explosion, and thus, no body to bury.

Duke had seen Damian’s body. He and Bruce were a moment too late. Duke is fast, faster than Bruce when desperate, but he had glimpsed a moment into the future and fell back, momentarily blinded by the explosion that hadn’t even happened yet.

Maybe if he hadn’t relied on his powers, maybe if he’d pushed past that to run, maybe if he arrived a minute or two earlier, Damian wouldn’t have—

Cass squeezes his hand. Duke squeezes back, numb to the core. He lets go and steps back, into the shade of a tree.

Damian’s funeral is held on a day where the sun glares, its heat searing into their skin. It’s not right. Nothing about this is right. Damian is—was—seventeen.

After the funeral, Duke writes a note to Bruce. He writes that he’s resigning as Lark. He can’t do this anymore, not when Lark’s partner is Shadow as well as Batman. His words tumble out without eloquence, and his tears smear the ink.

He flees.

And maybe he’s a coward. He can live with that. But Gotham—the city of rebirth, he liked to call it. The city of new beginnings. The city that had always seemed like stubbornness and perseverance and hope. It was Damian’s beginning, but it was also his end.

And Duke remembers why another name was given to Gotham.

(City of death. Death and rebirth is the whole phrase. He can’t ever forget that.)

It’s marred with the memory of them, of Damian, of his parents, of the kid that hoped and told himself if no one else would help, he would. Duke can’t stay here. No matter how much this feels like a betrayal to his family, to his father that believed Gotham would shine true, to his mother who came here to start a new life, to Damian whose smile was like Gotham’s sun, he can’t stay. He can’t. He can’t.

So what if Duke is a traitor? He doesn’t have many left to betray.

Instead, he seeks refuge in Blüdhaven, notorious for being the only city worse than Gotham. A simple city, one that held no pretenses of goodness, one that wouldn’t betray Duke.

Duke thought he was Damian’s light, but now that Damian’s gone, he knows better.

Damian was a light all on his own, and without him, Duke’s light shatters into tiny shards.

One morning not long after the funeral, Duke wakes up to find the sun assaulting his eyes, which is a rarer occurrence in Blüdhaven than in Gotham.

He shuts the blinds and cries in the quiet, shadowed room, his chest heaving with every sob, painfully aware that every gasped breath is a breath Damian will never get to take.

(The next two years seem to fly by. Duke becomes Blüdhaven’s Signal, and begins to take on the local gangs. He dismantles them from the inside out, with a focus he didn’t often have before.

He becomes an emancipated minor at barely fifteen, and he enrolls himself into a public high school. He used to have a 4.0 GPA. Now, with late nights spent fighting, and early mornings spent applying makeup over the bruises, his school performance dips.

A boy, small and skinny, appears on his doorstep. Duke recognizes him—it’s Timothy Drake, the next door neighbor who Duke would visit every once in a while, the boy with the emptiest house Duke has ever seen. “I know you used to be Lark,” Tim Drake tells him, “that Bruce Wayne is Batman, and that Damian used to be Shadow.”

Duke flinches and nearly slams the door in tiny Tim’s face right there and then. (Duke is only two years older, but sometimes it feels like it could be centuries in between them.)

“I need you to be Lark again. Batman has been uncontrolled, lately. Violent.”

“No,” Duke says firmly, crossing his arms. “I’m not—I won’t go back.” Which is a lie. He briefly went back to finalize the emancipation. He avoided Bruce’s eyes, then.

“He needs you!”

“He needs his son!” Duke retorts. “And he has—he has Batgirl and Black Bat and Bluebird. He doesn’t need me.”

Tim only looks at him with steely blue eyes, and something in them causes a pit to drop in Duke’s stomach. Oh god, why didn’t he keep up with Gotham news, did someone else…?

Duke holds onto the memory of texting Cass yesterday. She said she was staying at Steph’s and Harper’s place, which meant all three are safe. (Right? Right.)

“I’m sorry,” he tells Tim earnestly, “but I can’t do it. I’m not that guy anymore.” And then the door shuts, with a soft click. Duke waits by the door until he hears Tim’s footsteps fade.

Jon Kent visits. Duke lets him in, and soon enough, teen heroes stop by Duke’s apartment in droves. Duke was only ever a reserves Teen Titan, to be called upon if there was an emergency; Damian was the one who made friends within the Titans, while Duke’s friends remained squarely in Gotham. Still, Titans stop by to say their condolences or just laugh over the counter with cups of instant hot cocoa.

It helps relieve the ache of loneliness. Duke doesn’t realize how much he needs other people to thrive until he calls for a Teen Titans study session and notices with glowing warm pride that his grades are straight A’s once again.

And… Duke travels back to Gotham. Not to stay, the wounds are still too fresh, but he has a conversation with Bruce, the man that has almost been a father to him for years now, and he thinks it might not be so bad.

Tim is Shadow now. Tim had a choice between Lark and Shadow, and he chose what he knows best. Instead, Steph becomes Lark while Cass fills in Steph’s shoes as Batgirl.

It’s almost a heartwarming picture of a not-quite family.

And Duke wonders if, one day, Damian might be a happy memory to look back to.

Of course, that’s when Damian returns.)

“You let him replace me,” Damian snarls, his hands balled into fists.

Duke freezes in place, staring at the man under the red helmet. Damian’s eyes glint with green, a sharp green that terrifies where the brown used to comfort. A shadow covers nearly three quarters of Damian’s face, but the green still pierces.

“Dami,” he says, his voice cracking. “You—you’re—”

Alive, Duke doesn’t get to say before Damian lunges at him with a knife, his eyes gleaming with madness.