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forehead-enthusiast · 4 years ago

Text

Checkmate

Pairing: Haechan x Reader

Genre: enemies to lovers, fluff but it gets slightly steamy at one point (still totally sfw)

Word Count: 6k

Summary: You and Haechan get engaged, because anything is better than the process of trying to get engaged. That being said, having a fiancé you hate isn’t that much better.

Author’s notes: remember me???????? I’m alive, yeah. I’m super proud of this fic, I think it’s my best ever, so please give it a read!!

Haechan inhaled the overwhelming scent of floral perfume, and barely managed to stifle a gag. His father arranged for him to meet more and more foreign princesses every week, and he wondered where the man even kept finding them. Were there even this many countries? The prince’s surroundings were beginning to blend into a blur of painted smiles and emotionless eyes. He cursed that stubborn old man in his mind, and questioned furiously why it was even so important that he find a bride any time soon. Still, no matter how much he despised it, he knew his father wouldn’t accept anything less.

He looked into the sea of lace gowns and resigned himself.

Maybe he’d just choose someone. Anyone. He smiled morosely, knowing all the women there were only after their shot at the throne anyway. They were here to use him, why shouldn’t he use them too? The apathetic thought left a bad taste on his tongue. Still, in his exhaustion at his circumstances, it seemed more and more reasonable the longer he considered it.

He searched throughout the crowd of giggling princesses, unable to distinguish between their faces.

One after another, they approached him, with candied smiles and words that were far too practiced. One after another, they convinced him a loveless marriage with someone half-decent was far preferable to enduring this a moment longer. One after another, they revealed themselves to be absolutely unbearable, and Haechan grew more and more desperate to find someone that didn’t make him want to throw himself off a balcony after three sentences.

You stood at the back of the crowd, prodded by impatient elbows and sneered at by women hiding their smirks behind fans. You rolled your eyes, unable to understand this need, this hunger to marry someone they’d never met. That was your problem, according to your parents. And your advisors. And your tutors. According to everyone, really. You’d been to so many different kingdoms, trying to seduce unfamiliar princes, but could never bring yourself to actually put any effort into it. The carriage that shipped you to each one was beginning to feel more like home than the castle you’d left.

You watched girl after girl leave the ballroom, looking thoroughly dejected. It was hard not to relish in their failure just a bit, but you dreaded whatever high standards this prince was going to judge you with. You had little to offer. Your background, your kingdom, your land- none could remotely compare to his. Your parents were completely insane to even think you had anything that would make you lucrative as a bride to him.

Maybe they’re hoping he’ll behead me. You chuckled.

Still, the crowd continued to thin, and you couldn’t put off meeting him forever. A few of the weaker-hearted girls nudged you forward, suddenly less eager to meet the sharp-tongued prince.

You sighed, and decided to get it over with.

Haechan rubbed at his temples, barely even looking at the girl who approached him now. He’d made up his mind to find a bride today, but his prospects weren’t looking so good. His eyes caught the hem of this princess’s dress. It was unadorned. He’d go so far as to call it plain. Many princesses were after his riches, but he’d never seen one that was so blatantly poor. Most at least tried to disguise their lack of wealth, so as to make them more desirable in terms of growing power. He half-chuckled, half-sighed. His gaze traced upward lazily, until it came across the first unsmiling face he’d seen all day. It shocked him so much that his hand dropped from his face, and he stood up instinctively.

“Your highness, thank you for allowing me to meet with you today-”

It was the most monotonous, disinterested introduction he’d ever heard, and his heart soared. You hadn’t even noticed he’d stood up. Incredible.

“Let’s get married.”

“I hope- excuse me?”

“Let’s get married. Can we go right now?” The question was directed to the attendant beside him, who sputtered at the prince’s sudden enthusiasm. No one, however, was more surprised at him than you. Your skirts were still clutched in your fists, your knees still bent in a curtsy. You couldn’t even manage to feel happy that he’d chosen you.

If anything, you felt angry.

He was rattling off instructions to his attendant about the wedding he’d already begun to plan, completely ignoring you. You hadn’t even responded to his proposal, if you could call his demand that. You tried to get in a polite word in time and time again, only for him to not even acknowledge you, until you got so sick of him talking you couldn’t stand it anymore.

“No!”

Finally, he turned to you.

“No?”

“I don’t want to marry you.” You ignored the consequences of your words, and avoided thinking about the awaiting rage of your parents.

The prince blinked.

Then he scoffed.

“Of course you do.”

You cocked an eyebrow, your expression not betraying how absolutely pissed those four words had made you. Instead, the first smile you’d shown him spread on your face. It was chillingly false, your eyes boring deep holes into his face as you sweetly replied:

“I’d burn down this castle before I married you, your highness. Good day.”

And with that, you turned and left the ballroom.

Haechan didn’t move for a few moments as he watched you stalk away, a picture of grace even in your anger. The women who remained and witnessed began to whisper, snapping him out of his shock. His head flicked around the room, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Then, just as you vanished around a corner, he took off after you.

He’d been turned down. How? Why? He was rich. He was influential. You were neither. He felt a nagging pang of guilt, but suppressed it. You were poor. His proposal was a generous offer, for you and your kingdom. You were the one losing out by rejecting him. So why? Why was he the one chasing after you? He cursed under his breath as he caught sight of your back.

“You! Wait up!”

You heard him calling, but only sped up.

“I will call the guards if you don’t stop this instant! I-I command you to stop!”

You did. Then you turned on your heel, with a glare that would send armies fleeing, and stomped towards him much faster than he knew a princess could. He flinched as you were suddenly toe to toe with him, taller than he expected. You seemed smaller when he was sitting on his throne. You sneered at his reaction.

“Do you need your guards just to take care of one woman, little prince?”

He flushed, but you didn’t let him respond.

“You don’t even know my name. I’m not, ‘you.’ I don’t know why you want to marry me, but if you want me to agree, maybe learn that first.”

“You-” Haechan fumbled, unused to someone being blunt with him. He flared up, unable to think straight.

“You’re lucky to get an offer like this, you know.”

He saw the way your eyes widened in indignation, but kept digging his own grave as if he’d find treasure eventually.

“You won’t get an opportunity like this again. And, for your information, I only want to get married so I can finally be done with all,” he gestured towards the direction of the ballroom you’d both just left, “this.”

Despite your anger, his reason struck a chord within you. Not that that made your tone any less cutting.

“So I’m supposed to be grateful that you’re using me?”

“We’re royalty. We’re all getting used by someone, aren’t we?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, and he could tell you didn’t find the idea all so repulsive. He pressed forward.

“You’re tired of it all too, aren’t you? Or do you want to keep getting shoved at princes? We’d both get our parents off our backs. It’s a good deal.”

It was frustrating, but your desire to stop meeting spoiled princes was beginning to outweigh your immense dislike of this one. And as much as you hated it, he was right when he said you wouldn’t get an offer as good as this one ever again. Maybe that’s why he chose you, you supposed. He knew you couldn’t afford to say no. (Not that that had stopped you.) It just angered you that he saw you as someone so desperate, so needy, so pitiful.

“...Fine.” You stuck out your hand in impersonal assent. “But. I don’t want to marry you.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

“I’m not done, little prince.” He restrained his scowl and motioned for you to continue. “Let’s just get engaged. That’s enough reason to end all the marriage meetings, and then if it turns out I really just cannot stand you, we’ll call it off. Fine?”

“Fine.”

He shook your hand firmly.

Despite the way you both glared at each other, neither of you could deny how pleased you were with this arrangement.

While you sent word to your family, he went directly to his, who were thoroughly, almost obnoxiously happy that he’d found someone. He forced a grin and made up some lies about how he’d fallen for you at first sight. They weren’t exactly excited about your less than impressive background, but weren’t about to reject the only girl who’d managed to catch their discerning son’s eye.

Within a day, it was announced throughout all your fiancé’s kingdom that he’d found a woman to wed. You managed to laugh about how all the other princesses must be incredibly jealous of you at this moment, but couldn’t quite get over the fact that you were one foot into a lifelong commitment with the rudest man you’d ever had the displeasure of meeting. It was a troubling internal conflict. On one hand, he was the worst. On the other, the same could be said for just about every other prince you’d ever met. So really, it was an overall win that this one didn’t expect you to love or fawn over him.

At least, that’s what you repeated to yourself as you received the list of engagement events you were expected to attend alongside him.

“Do we really have to do this?” You groaned.

“Just shut up and smile, they’re about to see us.”

You reluctantly did as he said, forcing an exuberant grin onto an unwilling face. Your carriage turned into the courtyard, and crowds cheered wildly, as if they actually cared about your wellbeing in some way. You waved gently, relieved your upbringing was so ingrained within you that you could play your role without ceasing your fantasies of punching your fiancé in the face. As you reached your places of honor, Haechan offered a gallant hand to help you down, and you almost admired how well he played the part of a loving gentleman.

It was such a truly lovely banquet being thrown for you, it almost made you feel bad for lying. Haechan seemed to be thinking similarly, and, forgetting to be vindictive, leaned over to whisper jokingly in your ear.

“Poor fools actually think we’re in love.”

You laughed brightly without thinking. Both of you then remembered you hated each other, and stared at each other in shock before looking away sharply. You waved again, happy to be doing something that made sense to you. The hordes of celebrating nobles clapped and called out their congratulations again as soon as they saw you move, not wanting to get on the bad side of what they assumed was their future queen. That was a pretty nice feeling, and you accidentally smiled sincerely.

Haechan, still stunned by the sound of your real laugh, wasn’t prepared to see your real smile. His eyes widened. It was more beautiful than he expected, and didn’t threaten him with cavities the way every woman in his life’s did. If they were processed white sugar, you were honey with all the real sweetness in the world on your face. He hazily tried to remember when he last smiled genuinely. You turned to him with a gleam in your eye, and he took your hand before rationality could persuade him otherwise.

The smile dropped off your face, and your gaze flicked to your intertwined fingers, then to his expression, which seemed even more confused than yours somehow. He looked boyish and bashful, and you wondered if your haughty fiancé had a far more charming twin.

Lucky for Haechan, the crowd cheered yet louder at the sight of your supposed affection, and he tilted his head towards them as if to say, See, that's why. Normally, you wouldn't have believed it was part of his plan, but it was easier that way. You let him lift your entwined hands in some playfully bragging way, and rolled your eyes.

“Alright, so I get the bed.”

“That’s funny. No, I get the bed. It’s my kingdom!”

“You are not being very gentlemanly right now.”

“And you didn’t seem like the kind of girl who’d enforce those kinds of antiquities.”

You scowled, and Haechan looked smug, which only intensified your frustration.

“Fine. Then let’s decide fairly, little prince.” You loved to call him that, just to see him pretend it didn’t irk him. “If I beat you in chess, I get the bed. And vice versa.”

“...Fine, small princ- annoying- um- pret- dum-”

You couldn’t help but grin at his attempts. “Nice try, but I’m not immature enough to be annoyed by a silly nickname.”

Your fiancé grimaced and got out the chess board.

Hours later, you were still playing the first game of chess.

“Y/n… Can we… Can we…” Haechan yawned enormously, which of course prompted you to as well. “Can we maybe… call a truce for tonight? It’s a big bed. We have to be up early for a garden party.”

You wanted to rejoice in his surrender, but your eyes were teary with exhaustion. Instead of the easy win you expected, you’d been in the longest game of your life. It seemed like you two were well matched for one another.

As opponents, of course.

“Fine… But just- just for tonight. We’ll play again tomorrow.”

And with that, you both crawled into the truly extravagant bed, falling asleep before your heads hit the pillows.

Many nights passed, with an unfinished chess game at the end of each. It grew into something of a habit, a nightly chess game, always accompanied by bickering, of course. Neither of you ever managed to truly best the other, with every game ending the way the first did. As they continued, the bickering smoothed into mocking conversations, and sometimes you weren’t even mocking each other, but a common enemy. You would never admit it, but the pair of you started laughing together more often than you did at each other these days.

On some fateful Tuesday, for the first time ever, you saw a clear move to checkmate. The king was unguarded. For the first time, he was vulnerable. It was glaringly obvious, and you snuck a glance at your opponent’s face to see if it was a trap, but were taken aback when you found him already staring at you. He didn’t look triumphant or concerned, but he somehow looked… nervous. Or maybe expectant? And then you realized. He was far too good a player to make an error like this one. He was offering you a choice, from one royal with too much pride to admit they enjoyed the other’s company to another. It would be easy to end this game right now, and banish him to the floor.

You chose another move, and the game continued.

“So what’s on the agenda tomorrow?” You asked, with a tone more befitting of a business partner than a fiancé. The two of you had gotten pretty used to the whole routine of feigning adoration, and typically planned cute moments to perform in advance.

Haechan looked over at you and sighed in a way that might have been more amused than exasperated.

“Would it kill you to sit like a lady?”

You looked down at yourself, eating a biscuit you’d pocketed from today’s lavish banquet, with your legs criss-crossed as you lounged on the bed in your nightgown. The white fabric was hiked up above your knees to accommodate the posture, and catching all the crumbs that fell.

“Aren’t I?”

Haechan couldn’t mask his amiable laugh at that. You felt strangely proud when you made him truly laugh. It was one of the few times his shoulders really relaxed, and he looked like the cheerful boy he might’ve been without the pressure of royalty on his back.

“So… what’s on the agenda?”

Haechan didn’t answer right away. He was still looking your direction but seemed zoned out.

“Haechan?”

He flinched, always shocked when you used his real name instead of a mocking nickname.

“W-what? Oh, we’ve got a ball.”

“Ugh… Boring. You better not leave me alone with all the gossiping hags.”

“Yeah, sure. Uh, for real, could you sit properly?”

“Whaaat, I’m comfy.”

“Seriously.”

That irked you. You were just sitting, and while you hadn’t fully realized it, Haechan was someone you'd grown comfortable being yourself around. You didn’t need another person in your life telling you the way you behaved was wrong, and against your will, you had begun to expect more from him. You felt something too close to heartbreak as you wondered if he was just another person who disapproved of you.

“No, I don’t want to.”

“It’s not a big deal, why can’t you?”

“Because you’re right. It’s not a big deal, so why do you seem to care so much?”

“Can you just do it?!”

“No! Didn’t you get on me for- for ‘enforcing those antiquities’ or whatever? Now you’ve got a problem with the way I sit or how I dress-”

“It’s not- it’s not like that!”

“Then what?!” You flared up at him further, as did he, but he seemed less angry and more... agitated. You laughed mockingly. “Whaaaat are you shy seeing my legs or something-”

“YES! They’re- they’re. Um. Well…” He looked at the floor, and you could’ve sworn you heard him whisper, “pretty,” before he flicked his head back up and stammered the marginally less embarrassing, “distracting.”

Your anger instantly dissolved when he confessed that, and you flushed in a way you didn’t know you could. You stared at the ground, tugging your nightgown gently down. You’d always hated being treated like a lady, but you’d never been treated like a woman, and you found you didn’t hate it quite as much. This might’ve been the first time in either of your lives that the two of you were ever actually lost for words. Neither could formulate some witty remark or snide comment, and you just boiled in the unfamiliar atmosphere neither of you sought to create.

“Uh,” Haechan broke the silence masterfully. “I-I think I’m going to turn in early.”

“Yes. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

You might have climbed in bed early- no chess game for the first time in ages- but you both woke up exhausted. Four feet apart, two fiancés had stayed up late replaying the night in their minds and subsequently panicking.

“G-good morning.”

“Good morning.”

The day whirled by, with most of it being spent simply getting dressed for the evening ball. You spent most of the day slapping your face and reminding yourself of how you used to act around him, and when you heard a knock at your door, you were ready.

He told himself he was, but he wasn’t.

Haechan took a deep breath and let his gaze trail up from your skirt to your face, and he stiffened. He’d grown used to his fiancé looking beautiful in the luxurious dresses she wore daily- even though it stunned him more than he’d admit the first time. This dress was no different, no more extravagant, no, but the pink tinge on your cheeks was a beauty he couldn’t have imagined.

“You look… decent.”

He celebrated internally for managing to say something an unflustered him might have said, although some tiny part of himself wished he could pay you a compliment normally.

Your sigh slid into a laugh, and you found your rhythm in your rapport again.

“And you look just adorable, little prince.”

He glared, but was relieved to hear the dig. He offered you the crook of his elbow, and you clapped your hands to your cheeks once more before taking it. He flinched at the sharp sound, and observed your cheeks grow red again from the impact.

“Youch.”

“It’s not that bad, honestly. I’ve been doing it all day to wake myself up.”

Haechan hummed a response. He couldn’t form words; all his brainpower was focused on figuring out why that statement had just disappointed him so. As he rounded the corner towards the ballroom, though, he shook it from his mind.

You entered the ballroom to the usual thunderous applause. Haechan led you down the immaculate gold staircase, and you clung to his arm, the perfect image of a lovestruck princess. No one noticed you holding on a little tighter than usual tonight. The band struck up a song, and you took the hands of possibly the only person you'd ever considered a friend. He led you to the center of the floor and began to waltz. It was always a satisfying feeling to watch the crowds make way for you. You looked everywhere but at your partner, and aimlessly wondered if you’d even been in this ballroom before. Just when you thought you’d seen every room in the massive castle, you’d be led to a wing you didn’t even know existed. The idle thoughts occupied you, which was probably for the best, since it meant you didn’t notice the way Haechan was looking at you.

The dance ended, and you went separate ways to entertain people who made you feel like your brains were melting. Seriously, one day your mind was just going to leak out your ears and spill onto the polished floors. It was amazing how you could spend hours talking to one person night after night, but half an evening with these sycophants made you contemplate faking your own death.

Finally, your reprieve came in the form of an attendant, whispering in your ear that the crown prince was requesting your presence.

“So sorry ladies, my future husband and I are just inseparable.”

They gave you condescendingly knowing looks, their eyes practically screaming, Just wait a few more years, child, you’ll tire of each other. You had to turn away quickly so they didn’t catch you sneering at them. Whatever. You wouldn’t be with him in a few years anyway, you would have gone your separate ways by then.

Right?

Something about that thought didn’t feel right. Not even sad, just… not right. You thought rapidly as you let your attendant guide you. What was your original agreement? If I realize I… Wait… If I end up still hating him, then the engagement’s off? Those were the terms. Which meant, if you didn’t hate him, then inevitably you’d end up mar-

“Y/n!”

You looked up sharply, not realizing you’d crossed the ballroom already. However, even when looking forward, you didn’t see the person who’d just called your name. Your eyes flitted about, searching for the familiar face. You took a few steps in no particular direction, massively confused, and then suddenly terrified when a hand reached out from behind a curtain and pulled you to join its owner. Not the type to lose composure and scream, you clenched your jaw so tight it almost broke until you saw your fiancé's face shrouded in the shadows of the velvet drapes.

“What took you so long?”

His question wasn’t at all rude, as it once might’ve been. It was one of genuine relief to see you, as if you were his solace amongst all the fools at the ball. You met his eyes for maybe the first time this evening, and they were bright and warm and looked at you the way no one ever did. Like you mattered. Like he wanted you there. Not the facade you put on for everyone, he wanted the real you.

Oh God, I don’t hate him at all.

“Earth to y/n?” He chuckled as you snapped to attention. “Finally, you’re here. Is this the worst ball yet or what?”

“Yes! It’s seriously unbearable.”

“I knew you’d agree. By the way, have you still been slapping your face? You shouldn’t in front of guests, they’ll think you’re crazy.” He teased you over your red flush without giving it a second thought. You hadn’t touched your cheeks in hours. The realization only made you blush even more. He leaned in close, and you stood stock-still with surprise.

“Do you want to vanish for a while?”

“What?” The absurdity of the idea finally overwhelmed all other distractions from your mind. “How can we leave, we’re the guests of honor?”

“Please, nobody cares. They’re all busy trying to climb the social ladder anyway. Besides, we’ve got this great hiding spot.”

You stifled a laugh. “Yeah, squeezing between a window and some drapes is what I call ideal.”

“Hey, it’s got, like, enough room for us!”

That was a bit of hyperbole on Haechan’s part. You both barely fit in the narrow space, and you thanked the stars you hadn’t worn a larger hoop skirt tonight. Suddenly you were back to evading making eye contact again. A hush fell over you as you thought about how incorrect his statement just was, and you both grew acutely aware of how you couldn’t position yourselves in any way that would allow you to put some distance between your bodies. You cursed yourself for not postponing your life-shattering revelation about the man before you until after this little endeavor. Haechan’s mind raced as he saw the red on your skin remain even in the dim light.

You could only avoid each other’s gazes for so long.

He locked eyes with you, and you envisioned pieces moving across a board, your king running out of ways to escape its fate. There was only one end, and you were starting to love the idea of surrendering. You whispered harshly in the sarcastic way that felt comfortable to you, still too prideful to admit your defeat.

“So are you going to kiss me, or am I going to kiss you?”

Haechan answered by pressing a palm to the back of your neck and pulling you towards him perhaps too eagerly. A second later, you’d both pulled away, frantically looking around to see if anyone was peering in on you both. You relaxed when you confirmed no one has discovered you.

“This isn’t... a good time, Haechan.”

“I could not agree more. Way too risky.”

Neither of you waited a moment more to lunge towards each other again. His lips found yours roughly, his breath already ragged with overworked patience. You grabbed his lapels, no less desperate for this moment, your lipstick smearing onto him. Your fists crushed his boutonniere, and his fingers wove into your hair and ruined the curls. There was no party beyond the curtain. You and him were alone, both desperate to memorize the taste of each other, and nothing else mattered but that. His lips parted, and yours followed suit. His tongue just brushed your lower lip, and you felt a thrill run down your spine. Your arms wrapped around his neck unconsciously, trying to get closer to him than was possible, but nothing could stop you from trying. You caught his lip between your teeth, your instincts running wild, and you wondered how either of you had endured up until this point. Now that you’d gotten a taste of each other, it seemed almost impossible not to get addicted. He gripped your hair, his other arm wrapping around your waist and not letting go. It slid down to grab your thigh and wrap it around him, your dress’s layers barely inhibiting him. Every inch of you was so aware of where it made contact with him, and you hungered for more. All facades were shed. You were both just heat and teeth and desire, without a shred of nobility between the two of you. You’d never experienced anything so perfect.

The two of you finally parted, your lips wet and the rest of you looking disastrous. He pressed his lips to your cheek, getting your own lipstick on your face, and you pulled his palm up to kiss it over and over again. Too breathless to continue and too worked up to just stop, you let the clock tick by as you left soft kisses all over each other.

“What are we going to do?” You whispered, half concerned but half amused. Between sentences, you still found places on his face yet unkissed, and remedied them. “We can’t go back out looking like this.”

“What are you talking about? I look great.” You were both too elated to remember you should be worried about your predicament, but he did seem genuinely proud of the pink smears adorning his face and neck, the teeth marks framing his lips, the fierce creases in his lapels. He brushed his fingers on your cheekbones, and looked even prouder of the mess he’d made of you. It felt like a dream to be touching you like this. Even more unreal to know that he was the cause of your disheveled hair and your chapped lips. He may or may not have imagined a moment like this before, late at night when he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering, but it was buried in the back of his mind and nowhere near as euphoric as this reality.

“No, but seriously, we can’t go out like this.”

“No yeah, for sure, you’re absolutely right.”

You managed to escape thanks to the tight-lipped attendant who’d led you to a curtain concealing a prince in the first place, but found yourselves rather tight-lipped too. Once you’d both washed off the lipstick and the teeth marks faded, you didn’t know how to face each other. You just crawled into bed and discreetly squirmed as you thought about all that had happened. What was more embarrassing, that you realized you might, maybe, possibly, have feelings for each other, or that the other person might know about them? It was already late when you turned out the lights, but you both stayed up longer, plagued by worries.

They must be so smug since I was all over them, I’m such an idiot.

God, I can’t believe how intense that was. What if they hated it? What if I was bad at it?

Did they only kiss me ‘cause of how much I was kissing them?

Are we like… friends? They probably don’t hate me, so…

That was really unbelievable.

I think I might really… feel something for them.

I hope they feel the way I do.

The hurricanes of concerns led to a restless night, and a mortifyingly awkward day afterward. You couldn’t even look at each other, let alone speak. Even the servants seemed to notice the tension, and you could hear them giggling when they’d disappear into the corridors. You tried to tell yourself that that was great, that it really sold your act as a couple of lovebirds, but that just embarrassed you all the more. Your fiancé was just as tormented, the blush that was sparking gossip reaching all the way to the tips of his ears.

Eventually, someone had to break the silence. If not with words, then with the slamming of a chess board down on the usual table. And that’s exactly what you did, not that who slept in the bed was something that still concerned either of you. No, now it was just routine, something you enjoyed and shared with each other, and something you were going to use to discuss your current feelings.

“C-come play, little prince.”

Even the nickname didn’t manage to get him to flare up. He walked over, still with the air of importance that was second nature to him, but his pounding heart almost echoed against his ribs. You set up your black pieces and he took the white. He moved a pawn towards you.

“So…”

“Yeah.” You slid a piece across the board. He nodded, his cheeks burning. You both knew what you had to say and what the other person was going to say, but that only made it all the more difficult to verbalize.

“I guess I don’t hate you. As much as I used to.” You said hurriedly, your voice forcibly steadied.

“Oh, what an honor.” Haechan’s snarky response was accompanied by a trembling hand moving a rook. He yelled at himself internally, and attempted to be as honest as he could. “I… suppose you’re not unbearable.” The biting words didn’t sting, nor did they flow the way they once did. It saddened both players, even though it had only been a day since you both had been without the banter of your best friend. Slowly, you started to regret the night before, the ecstatic memories being clouded with the fear that you might lose the most important person to you because of it.

“I-”

“Oh, sorry, you start-”

“No, you-”

“No-”

“Okay, fine!” You huffed, accepting the initiative. You pushed your rook straight forward. “I… have always hated the idea of getting married. Everything about it- the formalities, the responsibilities, the princes, ugh. Awful.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I’m not done, okay!” Pieces shuffled around the board as you tried to organize your thoughts. “If I… had to marry someone…” Your sentence trailed off, and Haechan leaned forward, ears itching to hear the conclusion. You stared at the board, and he steeled himself. It would’ve been a blow to his persistent pride if he just waited for you to say everything.

“I’m…” What did he need to say first? His mind blanked, and he just let the words fall from his lips. “I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widened, but remained fixed on the game. “For what?”

“For not listening to you. The first day we met. I didn’t… treat you the way I should’ve. I’m sorry for that. But I’m… also glad it happened. If I’d acted differently then maybe you wouldn’t be in front of me. That would be, uh, not ideal. But I’m sorry.”

“Um. Thanks. I’m glad it happened too. Otherwise we might still be pretending to be well-mannered in front of each other.” Haechan snickered, and you did too. You could feel your shoulders relaxing, and he could feel himself growing bolder. He moved his queen across the board, closing in on his target.

“Man, where would I be without my unladylike, insufferable fiancé?”

“Probably whining like a child to some other pitiful creature who deserves better.”

The clouds in your minds began to clear as you exchanged snarky remarks. It felt right- pretty words didn’t like to be forced from your lips. He smiled. You looked up, your line of sight lingering on the lips you knew well before finding his eyes. You left your king unguarded, ready for it to be captured.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind marrying you, little prince.”

“Do it then.”

You swept the unfinished game off the board, feeling like you’d won, and he met you in the middle. He kissed you, barely more composed than the night before, but you had no problem with that. The two of you smiled against each other’s lips, incredulous that somehow you had found someone to love, something you used to believe was impossible. Little bursts of laughter interrupted the kiss as giddiness took over.

“Didn’t I say something like I’d burn down this castle before I wed you?”

“Just let the wedding planner know,” Haechan sighed with joy as he gave in to the temptation of your lips again.

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slashbitch2 · 4 years ago

Text

Wavelength

slight nsfw warning ;)

Eve had always felt that she stood out from those around her. That in every situation, in every group and at every point in her life, she was walking round on an entirely different wavelength. Although, living this way wasn't as direly lonely as it sounded, rather she learnt to appreciate the few and far apart moments with company. When someone would, for just a split second, understand her.

The first person to ever make her feel this way, and regrettably the only for a very long time, was Ted. He'd swept her off her feet and into a less isolated world, a concept so unfamiliar at the time that she'd allowed herself be dragged out to sea. Then there was Brandon, who she was told would change her whole world. And he did, for a while.

Brandon was her life preserver until his priorities changed; until Mother's day cards became Valentines day cards, movie nights were exchanged for house parties and homework for alcohol. But Eve wasn't the kind of mom to act as though this behaviour was unwarranted and abhorrent, so she let him wedge the door shut and clear his search history. She could cope with a little more distance.

Then along came Ted's affair, their crumbling marriage and eventual divorce. Before she knew it, she was drowning.

The all too familiar feeling of solitude reappeared, completely devastating for her when Brandon left for college. However, this time she swore that she wouldn't let it overwhelm her, and did everything possible to prevent herself from sinking. Which initially started with a class at a community college, and ended with her lying in the arms of both her colleague Amanda, and classmate Julian. And yet, after they'd hurriedly packed up their things and left, she felt no better.

Brandon was sitting on the porch when she found him later. His back was turned to her, but the hunched up posture and awkward shuffling said more than enough. In that moment, Eve reverted back to her old way of thinking. She came to the conclusion that she'd failed as a mother, that her mistake was unforgivable despite the years of morose behaviour and selfish demeanour Brandon had subjected her to.

For retribution, she removed Julian's number from her contacts, predicting that he wouldn't be able cope with remaining friends. He too immature, still in that irrational sulky stage of adolescence. Next, she specified to Amanda that what happened was a one time thing, though she was already way ahead of Eve, chatting casually like nothing had taken place that weekend. Her easy-going reaction was a nice break from the prevailing tension with Brandon, which she then mentioned to her friend.

She tried to casually bring the subject up in the same manner that she imagined Amanda would if the roles were reversed, acting like the issue was nothing to do with her.

"As much as I hate to use such an outdated phrase," Her friend said. "boys will be boys. "

Eve chuckled, though the general concern weighing down on her shoulders meant it came out as more of a scoff. "You can say that again."

There's a brief lull in conversation as Eve disinterestedly taps away at her phone while Amanda sips thoughtfully at her coffee. The silence is only invoked by an awareness of social standards, since there's much Eve wants to talk to her friend about, but feels would be inappropriate in public.

Eventually, Amanda's the one to break the silence. "Are you still looking for someone to fill in for Sarah?"

Eve's attention flickered back to the woman sitting opposite. "I am." She replied hesitantly, knowing that she ought to have posted the job advertisement weeks ago, but had forgotten.

"I know someone who'd be good." Amanda was sliding her phone across the table before Eve got the chance to respond.

The screen displayed what she could only assume was a job application, though the font was too small to actually read. Squinting, she picked up the device to try and glean some information about the potential applicant.

Amanda continued as Eve scrolled. "She hasn't worked with seniors before, but has managerial experience."

"Are you sure she'd want this job?" Eve asked apprehensively as she set the phone down. "Seems a little over-qualified to me."

"Yeah, she's serious about it." Amanda's expression grew more determined. "Y/N just moved here. Mentioned she was looking for a more lowkey kind of job."

Eve remained doubtful.

"She's travelled a lot. Had a lot of different jobs." Amanda took another sip of her drink. "But she said she wants to settle down somewhere. Get a job that'll take her to retirement- which was an exaggeration, but you get the gist."

"Well." Eve sighed. "You can't get much closer to retirement than working at a nursing home."

"Exactly. So can I pass on her contact details then?"

"Sure." She shrugged. Assuming that her friend's recommendation was genuinely helpful, then she would be saved from suffering through the tedious interview process, which was worth taking a risk for.

---

As Eve sat at her desk, the world around her faded into obscurity. Without Sarah as the assistant manager, she'd been suffocating under piles of neglected paperwork, only now forcing her way through it. The main thought motivating her was that you were due to arrive any minute, for what she'd described as a first informal interview. The idea of conducting anything more formal this late into the evening was unappealing. So, based on the unusual circumstance by which you'd applied, and the strange time slot reserved, the interview would be more casual.

Finding that her eyes were starting to strain, she granted herself a quick break to look round the office. Eventually she settled on looking out the window, content watching the world pass by. The day had been unexpectedly hot, and some of that humidity still lingered, but judging by the gentle breeze filtering in through a crack in the window, the evening must've started to cool. A soft pink colour filled the sky, darkening to orange where the sun had just set over the horizon. From the other direction, a deep blue had begun to filter into view, the only indication that night was approaching.

When her gaze drifted back to the room, she realised that the pink light was cast around the room, bathing every surface in a delicate glow. How the simple beauty of the evening had previously escaped her attention was a mystery. One that prompted Eve to take a break to admire it.

The break was short-lived, however, as a sharp knock at the door quickly stole her attention away.

"Come in." She called out but found her voice hoarse from disuse. She frantically cleared her throat as the guest entered.

Eve looked up at you and smiled politely, then down at her desk, then did a double take. Although she hadn't given enough thought to form any preconceived image of what you might look like, she certainly hadn't expected someone quite so attractive.

As soon as the label crossed her mind, she was already berating herself for it. You'd barely entered the room and were here for business, she couldn't let herself think of you in that way. It was wrong. Both professionally and morally.

"Evening." Your voice was deep, smooth and with an accent she couldn't distinguish.

Eve tried her best to smile amiably, though she was sure the emotion wasn't reflected in her eyes. Instead she scanned your body from top to bottom, lingering on your neck, and then your hands. The action was automatic. An unintentional response to her attraction- and there it was again. She'd allowed herself to get distracted barely ten seconds later.

"Hi." Eve was too quiet, her tone lacking the necessary command. She swallowed. "Please, take a seat." And smiled, this time more genuinely.

"Thank you."

She watched you stiffly slide into the seat, effortlessly demanding the attention of the entire room. Although Eve had known you for less than a minute, she'd already decided that there was something hypnotic about the way you moved. From the slight twitch in the corner of your lips, to the gentle rise and fall of your chest. Every movement, regardless of it being barely perceptible, had her mesmerized, however she was mostly fixated on your hands. How they couldn't quite settle in your lap, rather were wrung about anxiously until abruptly stilling.

Your hands falling limp dragged Eve back into reality as it dawned on her that she'd been staring for a little longer than appropriate. She literally had to shake herself out of the senseless state and clear her throat once more before she was ready to continue.

"It's nice to meet you." Jolted into reality, she outstretched her hand, which you eagerly met. Your grip was firm, matched with a confident yet humble smile that looked well practiced.

"And you."

Eve already understood how you'd succeeded at accumulating such an impressive employment history, as every second of the interview so far, you'd acted perfectly. Like you'd written the book on 'How to Handle Job Interviews.'

"Just call me Eve." Separating from the handshake, she dismissively waved her hand, unable to hold the eye contact for any longer. There was an inquisitive manner to the way you were watching her, as though you were trying to ascertain the most information possible from appearance alone. Being exposed to your scrutinising glare caused Eve to shift in her seat, though not from discomfort or uneasiness, rather from inadmissible lust.

As the interview progressed, her eyes continued to occasionally stray toward your hands. Despite how hard she was trying to stay focused, she kept catching herself unintentionally imagining how they'd look gripping her waist, pushing apart her thighs. And if she blocked out this particular fantasy, then her attention would shift to your neck, and how she'd love to bite down on the supple skin presented to her.

She'd hoped that her fling with Amanda and Julian would've suppressed her incorrigible longing for pleasure, yet still found her thighs pressing together as her imagination overpowered reason. All the scandalous scenarios flashing through her mind only grew more vivid, more frequent. An incessant stream of borderline pornographic images, which worsened her guilt as she struggled to focus on what you were saying.

The cool breeze from earlier seemed to have vanished, replaced by unbearable humidity. She could feel herself sweating bucket loads, and only flushed more upon realising that she must've looked a mess; with stray hairs framing her face, an inability to sit still and a layer of perspiration covering her entire body. You'd probably noticed by now.

"God it's been hot recently." You commented, playing with the neckline of your shirt.

Had Eve not been observing you so closely, she would've guessed this was general small-talk. But judging on how you'd acted so far, this was a strategically placed act of mercy, a way of excusing her, no doubt, dishevelled appearance.

"Yeah." Eve chuckled, twirling a strand of hair round her finger. "We could move outside." She suggested, then quickly added. "If you wanted to, that is." Her desperation to please you came as a surprise. The roles should've been reversed. You should've been trying to impress her.

Eve had undeniably lost all authority in the situation, which simply excited her further.

---

When Eve laughed, she scrunched up her face and closed her eyes, which was inconvenient even at the best of times. Right now, however, she'd never despised the quirk quite so much.

As inconsequential as the current circumstances would look to any passer-by, she wanted to commit every detail to memory. From the lingering pink hue of dusk, to the way you threw your head back as you laughed. In fact, she wanted to memorise everything about you. Since leaving behind her stuffy office, conversation had flown easily between the two of you, the matter of employment seemingly dropped in place of getting to know one another. You'd indisputably gotten the job. Eve knew it. You knew it. So both were happy to indulge in a lighter tone of conversation.

The topic had turned to worst first date experiences, so she had very few to share with you, though that didn't stop her from enjoying listening to your little anecdotes.

"What about you?" Taking a calming breath after an outburst of laughter, you paused to ask her the dreaded question.

In comparison to your story, her worst date was relatively tame. "Well." She scratched at the corner of her eye, considering whether she could exaggerate in some way. "I went on a date recently that I had to walk out of."

"Really?" You folded your arms, leaning back against the brick wall. "What happened?"

"Nothing. I guess it just didn't feel right." She shook her head, hoping to deter any more questioning.

"Fair enough. Sometimes you just know- right?"

Eve drew her eyes away from being locked on the ground, finally summoning the resolve to look directly back at you. She bit her lip, compelling herself to nod.

There was something about you that was pure ecstasy to her. While looking at you, she could feel herself falling deeper into the hypnotic state she'd been in earlier, unable to tear her eyes away and unwilling to try. In spite of the normality of the situation, it felt meaningful. Eve didn't feel so alone, so out of place. Which made no sense to her as she'd known you for barely over an hour.

"What did you do after?" Your voice was somehow deeper, eyes lidded and posture relaxed. "After the date." You clarified.

The inquiry was personal, even without context that could be inferred. Eve hummed, delaying her response long enough to consider how much she was willing to divulge. "I-" She laughed nervously, suddenly embarrassed to confess. "I went swimming."

"Swimming?" Your eyebrows shot up, amused by the many connotations of her vagueness. "Where?"

Eve scuffed the heel of her shoe against the concrete ground, shamefully incapable of returning the eye contact. "Here." She admitted quietly, grinning as if in disbelief that she'd actually done it.

"Wow. I'll be honest, I wasn't expecting that." You took a deep breath, rendered speechless for a second. "So, you have access to the pool?"

Eve shifted restlessly, hesitant to pursue the topic any further. She knew where this was going, and that she shouldn't endorse this type of behaviour. But the heat wasn't helping, and neither was her overactive imagination. She was supposed to be responsible, but then again, so were you.

Inevitably the possibilities of what could be overpowered her better judgement. "Yes." She reached into her pocket, producing the coveted key ring and hanging it on her pointer finger.

Upon glancing up, she discovered you were watching her intently, indisputable lust reflected in your eyes. Eve found herself in one of those rare moments where she felt understood, on the same wavelength as someone else. The logical part of her brain argued that you were basically a stranger. That if she followed through on your shared idea, then your hiring and subsequent job experience would be forever tainted. But the possibilities were too tempting to ignore.

So when you asked. "Want to go swimming?"

She couldn't refuse.

---

You'd held her hand as she'd lead, the reasoning being that most the facility was shrouded in darkness. Though Eve liked the weight of your hand in hers, so she didn't bother to turn the lights on until reaching the pool. Only then did you separate, crouching down to check the temperature. You beamed with childlike joy as you waved your hand around in the water, skimming the surface then diving deeper down.

Eve grinned. Your pure happiness was infectious, the effect it had on her similar to being drunk. She was intoxicated from exhilaration. She would've been content watching you relish in the feeling of water running through your fingers for eternity, though to her dismay, you soon grew bored. And then to her surprise, you unabashedly began to strip. Her eyes were glued to the expanse of your back as you pulled your shirt over your head, and to the revealed skin as you tugged your trousers down.

She had to stop herself from stumbling back as the strange reality of the situation suddenly dawned on her. Instead, she reacted by comically clutching at her heart, clawing the fabric of her own shirt.

You turned to the side, looking at her out of the corner of your eye. "You coming?"

She chewed on her lip, pondering the two words in greater detail. This was you asking for consent, giving a final warning. You were both aware that this was an incredibly outlandish idea, an extremely irresponsible one that should've discouraged Eve. Yet it had the opposite effect.

Before she could overthink the consequences, her shaking hands were clumsily unbuttoning her blouse. At the unspoken confirmation, you smirked back at her, then without warning, threw yourself into the pool. The splash echoed round the room, proceeded by carefree laughter as you resurfaced and began leisurely swimming away from her. While you were busy, Eve took the chance to continue undressing without interference.

Her insecurities didn't emerge until it was too late, resolved moments later as she dove into the pool. The water was colder than she'd anticipated, but her burning desire dulled the intensity. Breaking through the water's surface, she inhaled deeply, grateful for the supply of oxygen. However, her breath was soon stolen from her as she noticed you were treading water directly in front.

Somehow, you looked even more beautiful now. With the wave's reflections dancing across your skin, your hair drenched and dripping. She wanted to chase after the droplets with her tongue, despite knowing she'd likely be met with the bitter taste of chlorine. But what really flustered Eve was the way you were staring at her; the hunger in your eyes that hinted at your intentions.

Your stillness was teasing her, the water practically stagnant around you both. Eve was becoming increasingly irritated, the heat between her legs only growing. So it didn't take long for her to snap. She lunged forward in an attempt to grab hold of you, though her hands couldn't quite clutch onto your slippery skin. She stumbled to the left, floundering around until you grabbed hold of her.

Upon securing her grip, she froze, due to both the sensation of your body pressed up against hers, and her embarrassment. She couldn't bare to look up, to face her awkward failure. After a beat of silence, she heard you laugh lightly. It wasn't necessarily unpleasant or mocking, but she insisted on keeping her eyes locked on the wall. That was, until your lips gently brushed against her ear.

"Were you trying to kiss me or drown me?"

She snorted, the tension leaving her body, then turned to rest her forehead on your shoulder. "The former. Definitely."

You laughed again. This time Eve joined in, happy to ignore what'd just occurred.

"Want to try that again, then?" You kissed just behind her ear, causing a shiver to suffuse across Eve's body. She waited a minute, expecting more before realising you intended for her to make the next move.

She glanced up at your face, fixating on your lips. You were so close. All she had to do was lean forward ever so slightly. One final glance to your lidded eyes confirmed you wanted the same- all she had to do was close the distance.

Taking a shaky breath, Eve shifted a hand up to cup your cheek, her thumb softly stroking your skin. There was no rush; you both wanted the same thing and were eager to revel in the experience. So, when her lips finally grazed against yours, there was no deep sigh or sudden change in pace, rather a blooming warmth in her chest. She was floating, both literally and metaphorically in a sea affection.

She kissed you again, this time with more conviction. Then fell backwards, her feet now comfortably resting on the bottom of the pool, her back hitting the wall as your grip on her waist tightened. You dragged a hand across her chest, causing her to gasp. Your touch was scolding compared to the cool water. A perfect balance between lustful heat and a mind-numbing, all-encompassing chill.

She raised her arms, flinging them around you and exhaling as her impatience reappeared. Though thankfully, you didn't make her wait long. Soon enough, your mouth had latched onto her neck, leaving messy kisses from behind her ear, to down by her shoulders. The feeling was pure bliss, encouraging her to lean into you and press your bodies closer together.

She didn't need to say anything. You seemed to know exactly what you were doing. Like you had her body memorised: every caress was perfectly placed, each touch just what she needed. It didn't take long for Eve to reach her pleasure, although she did spend a while in a dazed state of satisfaction, simply drifting in your arms. Eventually, she regained awareness to feel you tenderly nibbling on her lower lip, and eagerly reciprocated the kiss.

Motivated by the sudden fervour, she switched the positions, pushing you up to the wall.

"Get on the ledge." Eve murmured against your lips. She looped her arms under your thighs, ready to lift once you'd agreed.

Surprised by her abrupt confidence, you quirked an eyebrow, but obeyed nonetheless.

With you sat before her, she knew the evening was only just beginning, and judging by your breathless expression you felt exactly the same. This was one of those rare moments where Eve felt completely understood.

#eve fletcher x reader #mrs fletcher #eve fletcher

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atths--twice · 3 years ago

Link

Chapter Five

December 1923

It took nearly a month to secure the preparations needed to leave Cairo and begin the journey down the Nile.

If he had not seen much of Dana before, he now saw her nearly every day.

She brought books from work, shared information she had been gathering for years, showed him maps she had copied and shared where she believed the temple of Kha’ari was located and why.

“There are big areas devoted to the more well known gods and goddesses: Luxor, Karnak… but I don’t think it’s near them. I just feel as though it’s near the Kharga Oasis,” she told him, as he walked her home after dinner at the hotel.

“The names are similar,” Fox agreed.

“True, but it’s more than similar names.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think… and, I know how it will sound, but I think that the other temples were erected in places where it may have been hard to be happy at times, but…” She paused and shook her head with a heavy sigh. “I think it’s harder to be sad in a beautiful place. To feel the weight of your heart breaking, while the day is beautiful and others around you are happy. I think a temple near an oasis, near that beauty, for a goddess of pain and suffering… that would be the perfect location. Showing that there is that beauty in the world, even when we believe it’s not possible.”

Fox stared at her, thinking of the people who may have come to the temple, leaving their offerings of thankfulness, finally able to see the beauty in the day around them, their hearts beginning to repair. He smiled and nodded, believing she had to be right, her deductions far too reasonable.

“I think that makes perfect sense,” he said softly and she smiled.

_______________________

The Lady of the Nile, was a large beautiful ship in which Fox had procured two rooms to carry them to their destination. When they had arrived that morning, Dana had stopped and stared at it and then at him.

“Our journey will take three weeks. We may as well spend it in comfort,” he had said and while she had seemed hesitant, she entered the ship with him.

The ship was even more beautiful once they were being led to their rooms. The rich colors, tapestries, and details all added to the grandeur of it. Dana kept looking all over and shaking her head, telling him how beautiful she found it.

Her room was first and when they stepped inside, she gasped. The room held a small bed, wardrobe, nightstand, oil and globe lamps. There was a sitting area with a small sofa, a table in front of it, and a sink with a chest below it.

Shelves with brackets were above the bed and along the walls to hold objects and keep them from falling. A round window, above a small bookshelf which held a decent amount of books, opened to look out onto the water. Sheer curtains hung around the bed and a large rug covered the floor.

“This room is nicer than my flat,” Dana said softly to him as she looked around, her trunk set down by the porter.

Fox smiled at her before excusing himself and continuing onto his own room. It was similar to hers, though the colors were a bit darker and instead of the small sofa, it had two comfortable looking chairs.

He unpacked his trunk, hanging up his clothes and looking around with a grin and a nod. It was all really happening.

He walked around the room, touching the books in the bookcase, the oil lamps, the curtains around the bed. With another nod, he left the room and walked to the dining room, requesting a table for dinner on the deck at sunset.

When he left, he walked back to Dana‘s room and knocked on her door. She answered, though she did not open the door fully, staying slightly hidden behind it.

“I’ve made reservations for dinner,” he said. “But I was wondering if you would like to take a tour of the ship with me.”

“Oh… yes, I would like that very much. Can I meet you in a few minutes?”

“Of course,” he agreed with a nod. “Fifteen minutes? In the main lobby?”

“Yes,” she agreed, smiling and nodding as she closed the door.

He left and walked to the bar, looking at the alcohol displayed and ordered two glasses of champagne. As it arrived, so did Dana, in a dress he had never seen before, and his heart stopped before it began to beat rapidly. Her hair was up and she looked beautiful, though slightly nervous.

“You look beautiful,” he said as she reached him.

“Thank you,” she answered with a blush on her cheeks. “My mother sent me this dress, just in case I had an occasion to wear it. I’ve had it for nearly two years and never worn it before tonight. I feel a bit unlike myself, but thought it was the right time to make use of it.”

“Indeed,” he said with a smile, the dark blue of the dress making her eyes bluer, if it were possible. “Here.” He handed her one of the glasses, clinking it with his own.

“Cheers,” she said quietly and he nodded as they took a sip. Extending his arm, she accepted it, as they turned from the bar and made their way up the stairs.

They walked around the ship, discovering the luxuries it afforded: a dining room smoking lounge for the men, a library, a salon with chairs and sofas filling the room, the gleaming windows letting in the late afternoon sun.

The deck of the ship was even better with the view of the sunset, the water, and the other small boats sailing beside them, their masts filled by the breeze.

He glanced at Dana, the loose strands of hair blowing across her face, and he smiled. Her eyes were shining and her lips curling up as she waved to him sailing past them. Under any other circumstance, he would have seen the romance of the situation. Truth be told, he was hard pressed not to see it, as the setting sun created a romantic atmosphere all its own, but he pushed those feelings aside.

“This is a beautiful ship. Far more than I was expecting,” she said and took a last drink of her champagne, the glass now empty.

“What were you expecting?” he asked, taking her glass and then draining his own.

“I… I don’t really know,” she said, leaning her arms on the railing and twirling a strand of hair, at the base of her neck, around her fingers. “I’ve… It's been a long time since I’ve been around such luxuries. My income at the museum is not large and what money I am sent from my mother, it’s not much either, and not always absolute.” He frowned and she smiled slightly. “My father didn’t want me to leave and threatened there would be no financial help from him if I did.”

“That’s…” He paused, not knowing what to say, and not wanting to insult a man he did not know.

“Not exactly the kindest, no, but it’s been cleared up. Letters and distance work wonders, you know.” She smiled at him and he frowned again. “He was worried about me on my own, and didn't want me so far from home.” She bit her bottom lip and looked away with a sigh, the wind blowing her hair across her face.

“But you know what I think?” she asked as she turned to look at him again. “Although he never says, his own letters generally short, and only a postscript added to my mother’s, I think the money is from him, but he won’t admit it. Stubbornness and not wanting to appear too soft, he will continue the charade.” Fox laughed softly and she smiled.

“My mother similarly did not want me to leave. But… after the pain and uncertainty the war caused her, I can understand.”

“Were you… shot? Your leg…” She glanced down and back up at him. “Please don’t feel you have to discuss it if you don’t-”

“No,” he interrupted, not wanting her to feel she had imposed upon him. “I wasn’t shot in my leg. I was stabbed and it became infected before I could get proper medical health. I had to spend some time in hospital correcting the mistake. I didn’t think I would go back to the front line after that, but they cleared me to return. My mothers letters were filled with her worry and anger over that decision.”

“I can understand how she feels,” Dana said quietly, her eyes downcast, fingers stroking her locket.

He felt the conversation was becoming too morose and so he suggested they continue walking and heading to dinner. She agreed and they moved on, him carrying the glasses and giving them to a server who had passed by.

Dinner was delicious, their conversation easy, but he could not help but feel something was different. She smiled and laughed, but the happiness did not quite reach her eyes.

After the meal was finished, she politely excused herself to return to her room, claiming she was tired and could do with an early night.

“Of course,” he responded with a nod, and she walked away.

Not wanting to be held within the walls of his own room just yet, he strolled around the ship again. On his second trip, he stopped at the library where he spent some time perusing the titles. Taking a book back to his room, he was determined to read as much as possible before falling asleep.

__________________

The days they spent together were different from the seemingly endless ones of planning and discussions. Then they worked tirelessly, walking to and from the library, the hotel, and her flat.

Now, they had time to relax, sleep later, lounge about if they so chose, which they did as it was a very welcome change.

They ate every meal together, learning more about one another.

She had grown up in Maryland and was the youngest of three siblings; her youngest brother dying in infancy.

Her brother, Bill, had fought in the war, coming home wounded in one eye. He handled it well, saying he could live his life with one eye as well as two. His fiancée, Adelaide, had not cared, thankful he had returned to her alive, and his children, of which he had two rambunctious boys, thought of him as a pirate.

Her sister, Melissa, was married to a very kind and quiet man, Joshua, who doted on her every need. They had three children and last she had heard, would soon be adding another.

“They are all the sweetest children, my sister's children more so, always sending me drawings and little notes. I love them all, miss them of course, but…” A hand at her throat drew his attention, but no story was forthcoming and he was left wondering about the mystery of the locket.

He told her of his life, a sometimes lonesome one without a sibling, wishing he had a playmate, but happy with his parents. His mother especially was loving and attentive and he had never lacked for anything.

“But it’s not made you as some,” Dana said and he frowned in confusion. “I mean that some people become demanding and rude, carrying their wealth as though it puts them above others. You don’t do that. You have wealth, as was obvious when I first met you, but you don’t flaunt it. It’s a part of you, but not something you think or worry about.”

“That may be the kindest way to tell someone they are a rich snob that I’ve ever heard,” he teased and she laughed, looking out at the water as they sat at a table, enjoying a drink.

Other than the discussion the first day on the ship, the war was a topic they avoided and also how she had come to be in Egypt. It hung between them, something he would not have minded discussing, but one which she obviously did not, so their conversation mostly revolved around the journey and their destination.

The ship made many stops, allowing for touring the temples. For Fox, they saw nearly enough to make it all worthwhile, even without discovering anything on their own, but knew it was not the same for Dana. Her commentary of the day as they returned to the ship and had dinner, her eyes shining, he knew she was thinking of the excitement of their own hopeful discoveries.

Luxor, Karnak and Hathor, each place was more impressive than the last. The sheer magnitude of them was daunting enough, but the details in the artwork kept him standing in one place and sketching for longer than anticipated, only stopping when Dana joined him after touring places he had missed, his attention focused on sights before him.

There were people offering their expertise as a guide, but they declined them. Dana shared everything she knew, which was quite a bit, explaining what they saw with a passion the other guides lacked. He loved listening to her speak on subjects of which she knew, her tone animated and her hands moving quickly, pointing them out with a smile, his interest piquing with every word.

They went to the Valley of the Kings, where a large crowd waited to see the tomb of King Tutankhamun. Fox felt nervous as they made their way to the front of the queue, terrified he would react the same way he had at the pyramids. It would be twice as horrifying if it were to happen in front of Dana.

As the next couple walked forward, he took a deep breath. Thinking of the fact that it had been a while since he’d had any type of an attack of panic, he felt his heart start to race.

“Fox? Are you ready?” Dana asked, breaking into his thoughts and gesturing toward the tomb.

He took a deep breath and felt the panic begin to rise, when suddenly she touched his forearm and stared into his eyes. As she did, he felt a calm wash over him, his breathing returning to normal.

“Yes,” he said, letting out his breath and swallowing down his worries. “Yes, I’m ready.” She smiled and took a step forward and he followed; down the steps and into the tomb.

_______________________

December 25, 1923

Off the ship and now staying at a hotel in Luxor, Fox dressed for dinner, tying his tie before he put on his jacket and walked out of the room.

Tomorrow would begin their day of preparation. They would be meeting with the men who would be joining them on their expedition. Food would be acquired, tools, clothes, tents, and any other items they would need.

Fox was excited, but also nervous, hoping they would truly find what they imagined was somewhere out in the middle of the desert. Tonight though, he and Dana were having dinner and celebrating the holiday.

Nearly a month on a ship, he was glad to be in a place which sat on solid ground. The ship had been large and comfortable, the river calm, but he still preferred to be on dry land.

Down the stairs, he stood waiting in the main lounge area for Dana. She did not keep him waiting long and when he saw her coming down the stairs, he drew in a deep breath.

Wearing the same dark blue dress as she had their first night on the ship. Her hair was up, though in a slightly different style, and his let out his breath when she reached him. He smiled, unable to take his eyes off of her.

“You’ve managed to make that dress even more beautiful the second time. You quite literally took my breath away.” He smiled again and she looked down, her cheeks pink, before raising her eyes to his and smiling.

“Thank you. You look very nice too,” she said and he nodded as he extended his arm to her. She took it and they walked into the dining room.

The room was large, with a dance floor in the middle, and tables around the edges, covered with white tablecloths. Candles lit around the room and sitting on the tables, gave it an inviting feeling.

“It’s beautiful in here,” Dana said, the orchestra in the corner beginning to play softly as they sat down.

“It is,” Fox agreed, looking around and smiling. “I think what I like best though, is that we aren’t on a moving ship. This room, being stationary, makes me very happy.” Dana laughed, picking up the menu from beside her plate.

Their food orders were given and as the waiter left them, he looked at the orchestra, his foot tapping the floor beneath the tablecloth. Turning his head, he looked back at Dana who smiled at him.

“I want to thank you, Dana,” he said quietly and she seemed surprised at his words. He drew a breath, about to speak, when the waiter arrived with a bottle of wine, filling their glasses. “A toast. To the journey on which we are about to embark, all we have seen, and to one another.” She raised her glass and tapped it to his, her eyes shining.

God, she’s beautiful, he thought, the dress and style of her hair accentuating her beauty.

When they had eaten, and the dishes cleared away, they rose to leave. Her eyes followed the dancing couples as they glided past, smiling and laughing.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked and she shook her head, clasping her hands in front of her. “A walk around the grounds of the hotel perhaps?” She smiled in agreement and they began to walk.

“Fox,” she said softly, her eyes on his. “I have thoroughly enjoyed the last few weeks. I’ve lived here for over three years and I have not had the opportunity to travel as we have done. I knew it was there, but the cost was beyond my means. Here I was in a place I had wanted to visit most of my life and I was stuck in one place.” She smiled at him, reaching for his arm and slipping her hand into the crook of it. “I never imagined I would be here, on the brink of doing what I set out to accomplish.” She stopped walking and held tight to his arm, forcing him to also stop. Staring at him, she smiled again.

“Thank you, Fox.”

“It has been my pleasure,” he whispered with a slight nod. “I have enjoyed the past few weeks as well. Immensely.” Placing his other hand over hers, he squeezed gently.

“And now I must express my appreciation. Thank you,” he said quietly and she shook her head. “No. I do thank you. If it was not you who answered my first letter, I would not have been as intrigued to come here. To not only see all that we have, but to meet and thank the person behind the pen. I’m so glad it was you. Thank you, Miss Scully.”

She blinked her eyes rapidly, though he could see the tears shining in them. He squeezed her hand again, let go and took a handkerchief from his pocket, handing it to her as they began to resume walking.

The music from the dining room could be heard through the open windows as they walked past and he stopped. Turning his face to her, he raised his eyebrows, asking silently if she would like to dance. She nodded and he took back his handkerchief, placing it into his pocket.

Holding out a hand, she took it and he pulled her close, waiting to feel the rhythm of the music.

“I’m not always good with the quicker steps, but I’ll try my best,” he confessed and she smiled.

“I’m not a great dancer myself. Please don’t feel worried,” she whispered. He smiled with a nod, his leg the furthest thing from his mind as he held her in his arms and they twirled, her laughter ringing through the air.

They stumbled only a couple of times, both apologizing and then laughing harder, but they kept dancing until the music stopped, with applause following.

Catching their breath, he looked at her and without thinking if it was the right thing to do, he leaned forward and kissed her softly, surprising both of them. He began to pull back, his apology already forming in his mind, when her grip tightened and she kissed him.

As quickly as it began, it stopped. She pushed away from him, her eyes wide.

“I… I’m sorry,” she breathed, a hand going to the locket at her throat. “I…” She shook her head and stepped back, walking away quickly.

“Dana… Please don’t leave,” he called after her, but she kept walking and he did not chase after her, knowing it was not what she wanted nor what he should do.

The music began to play again, happy and festive, the diners applauding, laughter echoing through the windows. He felt no such joy, only worry and confusion. Less than a minute ago he had been happy, and now he stood alone, the memory of her kiss still lingering on his lips.

#The X-Files #XF Fiction #Alternate Universe #Historical AU #Egypt #Getting To Know Each Other #Beginning Of The Journey #New Relationship

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ellana-ravenwood · 5 years ago

Text

“Can you be my dad’s girlfriend, please ?” - Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader (x Batkids)

I was just thinking about the kids’ experience in school, being both part of the Wayne family and everything it brings AND a vigilante...and this story just came to be. I hope you will like it :

Fair warning : this is very long. I hope you will not find it boring. The subject interested me, and I wanted to write a slow burn story for ages. And here we are.

My master list : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

******

DICK.

"Are you sure about this, Dick ?"

"Yeah, I am.”

The boy looked sure of himself alright, but Bruce couldn’t help and be a little worried, faced with the building’s decrepitude, and the general state of the neighborhood. Of course, he himself would never care about that, but this didn’t concern him per se.

It wasn’t about his safety, but Dick’s.

Bruce Wayne could wish to change Gotham all he wanted, do everything in his power to make living in this city better, and hope for progress...He wasn’t an idiot.

He knew his work just started, and that most of the city was still very much unsafe. And Dick went through so much already...

Was enrolling him in this school the right choice ?

“You know, Gotham Academy is currently the best rated school in the city ? And it’s closer to the Manor, not by much, but still...It’s also closer from Wayne Tower, just in case.”

Dick frowned, and Bruce could see that he was going to say something before he could truly think about it. His little ward was very impulsive, at times. And sure enough, Bruce was right, as Dick turned to him and started vehemently :

"It's full of phonies and not payed enough frustrated teachers who are mean to kids because they were born rich ! I mean, some of those kids totally deserve it, being phonies and all, but there’s many that are just normal nice kids with rich parents ! I can’t learn with a teacher who hates teaching. And the phonies are getting to me now, mocking me because I was in the circus...And it’s harder to fit in when you go home and are not in the boarding school part ? Most of them are in boarding school, and were jealous I could go home. And I don't care about the "prestige" everyone was always talking about. I don’t go to school to appear better than I am, I go there to learn !”

There’s a short silence, during which Bruce feels a pang of guilt in his heart.

Other kids were mocking him ? The teachers weren’t nice ? Why did Dick wait three months into the school year to tell him he wasn’t feeling well in that environment ? Was he not feeling comfortable enough around him yet ? It has only been six months since he started to live with him, after all..

Bruce tried his best to make him feel at home at the Manor, but it proved, at times, to be more difficult than anything he ever did in his life.

And this was coming from a man who went to train all over the world for years, enduring impossible trials after impossible trials. None of his training though, prepared him to raise a kid. Thanks god Alfred was always there to help him out when he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do.

And the more he thought of it, the more Bruce realized that putting Dick in the fanciest school of the City might not have been the best move...

“Do-Do you um, care about the prestige ?"

Dick asks, breaking the silence, looking up at Bruce shyly.

It was clear in the little boy’s eyes, he was very worried about what Bruce was thinking right now. And that the short silence after his passionate diatribe made him nervous. Because...Maybe Bruce would disagree with him ?

Maybe knowing the reason Dick wanted to change from private school to a "normal" public school in would make him angry ? Offend him ?

After all, Gotham Academy was very much like the school Bruce went to as a youngster (said school blew up a few years prior after an “accidental” gaz leak).

Looking at the boy’s almost panicked face, Bruce reassured him quickly :

"Of course not chum. I want you to be happy and feel comfortable in whatever school you choose. If you want to go to this one, then you're going to this one. I was just making sure everything was truly ok with you."

"Well it is ! I have friends here, people that came to-to the circus, you know ? Kids I met during intermissions and all that. Back in the other school, people, and not just the kids, the teachers too, made fun of me because I was in a circus ! Always talking about how I probably was uneducated and all. Bruce, They kept saying I was a clown when I was an acrobat !"

Once again, Bruce felt his heart tightening in guilt and sadness. Three months. The kid waited THREE MONTHS, enduring mockeries and not feeling well, before saying something ! And he only said said something after Bruce kinda forced him to talk about his feelings...

Which had been a very laborious process. Dick was a stubborn child, and Bruce wasn’t really the best person when it came to the concept of “opening up”. Eventually though, he finally got an answer out of the kid.

It wasn’t going well at school, which is why he was being angrier and angrier, and lashed out even more often than when his...The subject of parents was sort of taboo, right now.

Nonetheless, Bruce observed a clear improvement in Dick’s mood and behavior over the Summer. Being with him made the boy more cheerful, and like his entire world still had some sense. Like he wasn’t all alone. When Bruce thought back to his own childhood, and the months after his parents’ death, he truly realized how much Alfred helped him go through everything.

And he wanted to be that person for Dick. It succeeded, as the boy opened up more and more, and was starting to smile again. Be snarky and sassy, too, which Bruce could definitely do without (or not).

When school started however, he went back to a morose like attitude and it didn’t take a genius to understand something must be up..

And here they were, in front of a completely normal school in the Otisburg District, Uptown Gotham. Not the worst neighborhood, most definitely not the best.

Dick said he knew people that went to this school, and that’s why he chose it. And today was his first day. Even though he was a rather extroverted child, Bruce could tell he was nervous.

Made sense, it’s not easy, being the “new kid”.

Laying his hands on the boy’s shoulders, Bruce gave them a light squeeze he hoped felt reassuring, and said :

“Well, buddy. Should we go in ?”

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

This was one of the most stressful day of your life.

No. Second most stressful day. The worst one was most definitely about a week after you graduated college, all cheerful and happy about the prospect to start teaching ! You were riddled with enthusiasm and willingness to change the World, give kids a chance annnnnnnd...realized that day finding a teacher’s position where you wanted was difficult.

Because of sentimental reasons, you did not want to leave Gotham. This city had been your home all your life, and you just couldn’t envision yourself teaching anywhere else.

The city was big, but there wasn’t that many schools, in the end. Or at least, not enough teacher jobs available. None at all, in fact. Well, in the schools you wanted to work at.

There was work in the few private schools all around the city, but you didn’t want to be a teacher in such a place.

You grew up in a bad neighborhood of Gotham (which wasn’t telling much, since most neighborhood in Gotham were “bad” at the time), and you were certain that it was only thanks to the best sixth grade teacher you’ve ever had that you didn’t turn bad.

Out there, in the street of GC, it was so easy for kids from disadvantages families to fall into petty crimes. There wasn’t really a lot of prospect for those kids, with no money to continue their studies and nowhere to really go.

Eventually, a lot of petty crimes turn into organize crimes and...Well, you were sure that one of Gotham’s root problem was their bad public schools.

You swore to yourself that when you’d become an actual teacher and have your own class, you’d advocate a lot to the city council to have a bigger budget, and give a real chance to kids from the lower neighborhoods !

But right now, after three months of not being able to find any steady work in the area you wanted (only short subbing times), and almost accepting a position at Gotham Academy...You finally found a job (well, at least you think you did) and were waiting nervously in front of the principal’s office for him to give you a class !

You didn’t know yet which one you’d get, and it made you extremely nervous ! The entire ordeal was settled really fast, and just enhanced your stress because you had barely any time to prepare. And since you didn’t know which class you’d have, you prepared for any grade you could have in an elementary school (because yes, you were an elementary school teacher. You were sure that trying to lead kids the right way had to start from an early age, as so many of them, in Gotham, just quit school before the age of 15...).

The day before today, you received a call from a panicked principal in the Otisburg district, talking about one of his main teacher quitting after she got mugged for the 7th time that month (it was particularly hard for her because she was originally from Metropolis, so not used to all this violence...), and he was in desperate need to find someone to fill her spot ! The principal’s words particularly resonated within you, since she was saying that those kids, given their circumstances, couldn’t afford to miss a few days of school.

It could have terrible consequences. Which is why she called you (you remember perfectly well that principal, and couldn’t help, when she hung up the phone, to feel utterly giddy because...she was running one of the school you wanted to go the most to !).

But then you realized she didn’t tell you which class the quitting teacher had, or if the spot would be “regular” of if it was yet another subbing time for you...

And here you were, waiting in front of her door, stressing the hell out. And oh my god WHY did you came an hour earlier ?! It just enhanced your stress.

Next to you, there was a trash can full of the espresso you got from the machine in the empty teachers’ room. All this caffeine running through your blood system surely didn’t help you relax.

You were about to take yet another walk around the school to try and release some tension when...

**********

“Can we get ramen for dinner ?”

“I’m not against it chum, but I believe we’ll hurt Alfred’s feelings if we come back for the fourth night in a row with take away.”

“Oh. Right. Then maybe he can make ramen ?”

“I’m sure he’d learn for you.”

“Can you call him so he’ll do it for tonight ? I really want ramen. I miss it..”

“Dick, we ate ramen the past four nights.”

“But it’s so good ! Pleaaaaaase Bruce please please please ask hiiiiiim ?!”

“Alright alright alright. I’ll call him after the meeting ok ?”

“YES !”

Half-standing half-sitting, as you were about to leave for yet another walk, you noticed two persons coming your way, and caught a little part of their conversation.

A man and a boy, probably his son. The little one was jumping up in the air, fist bumping the nothingness, clearly happy about the prospect to eat “ramen”. As they both came closer to you, you realized that...

“Ah, mister Wayne ! I see you’re here too, Miss (Y/L/N), good good. Perfect timing.”

You jump in the air, surprised by the sudden appearance of the principal. Was she a ninja or something, to open her door so stealthily and just appear out of thin air ?!

The thought made you smile, because honestly, in Gotham City ? It was a possibility that the principal of this little school was an assassin of some sort...You stopped your mind from inventing stories about a famous ninja acting as an elderly school principal as a cover, and being one of the most prolific hitman of Gotham at night, and turned to her.

Why was it, that your imagination always ran the wildest at the worst moments ? Right now, you were about to have your first briefing at your first teacher job ever, in the company of the famous Bruce Wayne, and you were thinking about ninjas and whatnot ! WHY ?!

You smile awkwardly at her, and walk into her office, wondering now why a man like Bruce Wayne was here.

According to TV and diverse newspaper, he was a few years older than you, and after everyone thought he died long ago, came back out of nowhere to take his place back in the city’s life just a few months ago.

Why was he here ?

Wasn’t he supposed to be a billionaire who was gonna “turn Gotham around” ? A rush of excitement suddenly filled you. Was he-Was he getting interested in helping schools out ?!

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

That little boy who was with Bruce Wayne, it was “Richard Grayson”. You read his story in the paper, what terrible tragedy...Made worst by the fact it was the only news going around in Gotham for quite a while.

Turned out though, the papers and other media missed one hell of a headline... Their beloved Bruce Wayne adopted the kid ! And no one talked about it ! Your guts were telling you that the reason why this was kept a secret was the man himself. You didn’t know him, but he most definitely seemed like the kind of person who would make sure no further stories about a poor defenseless little boy would surface all around the city.

“So as I was saying, perfect timing ! I thought, mister Wayne, a man of your stature might want to meet your son’s teacher first ? Well here she is ! Miss (Y/N/L) ! She’s starting at our school today too, and will teach the third graders.”

Bruce cleared his throat, and looked at you worriedly. Wow, rude. You didn’t quite know why, but your guts were telling you again this Bruce guy wasn’t very convinced about you right now.

“Um, how old is miss (Y/N/L) ?”

You raise an eyebrow, and answer before the principal can :

“Miss (Y/N/L) is 23, almost 24. Why, is that a problem ?”

“Um, no no. I mean...Maybe. I was under the impression Dick was going to be in the class of someone who had a lot of experience being a teacher ?”

WOW ! RUDE ! You turned an outraged face to him, and he avoids your eyes. The little one though, “Dick”, looks at you apologetically and elbows his gardian in the ribs.

“Can I ask you something mister Wayne ? Do people tell you the same thing when they realize you’re about my age and are raising a child right now ?”

Bruce turns to you, and...Oh you hit the bullseye.

“I think I have every right to ask about your experience, as I’m about to leave my child in your care.” He says coldly, and oh you just want to punch him. You knew he got the analogy, and maybe you were a bit out of line but come on, he was too.

You were about to answer something, and was ready to get fired before you even started school as you knew you were going to put the richest man in Gotham back to his place, when the principal said :

“I can assure you miss (Y/L/N) is the person we need ! When she came to leave her curriculum vitae a few months ago, I just had hired Miss Hick, who quit. Poor woman, she was from Metropolis, you know ?”

Both you and Bruce nod knowingly. The principal continues :

“In any case, I almost regretted that I hired Miss Hick when I saw miss (Y/L/N). Let me tell you mister Wayne, I can assure you that she’s really the person this school needs ! She came out top of her class from school, and clearly has the passion to teach ! She might not have a lot of experience yet, but I think both the kids and her can grow a lot because of this. I’m a very gutsy person you know ? I can have a “feel” of people, know what they’re worth...It’s the part of me that was raised in the Bowery, you know ? Well in any case, from all the things I know about her, and the many letters of recommendations I had from schools where she had internships or subbed, she’s the perfect person for the job. And you, mister Wayne, I feel like you’re a reasonable man...Give her a chance, will you ?”

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

Well, this was interesting.

Sure, your first impression of Bruce Wayne wasn’t very good, but you had to admit that the way he seemed worry about his ward kinda warmed your heart.

It wasn’t very nice, to be questioned about your ability because you were young. But you could understand where he was coming from. And you kinda started to feel guilty about lashing out, and talking about his own legitimacy to raise a child.

Since when was hurting someone because they hurt you the right solution ? You knew better...

“I’m sorry.”

Oh ? Haha. You both talk at the same time, as you close the door to the principal’s office, raising your heads to look at each others.

You were both clearly feeling ashamed, and were looking down at the floor, when you decided to apologize. At the same time. And so you both start to laugh. Under the gaze of little Dick, who is most likely thinking : “What the Hell ? Adults are so weird.”, given his confused expression.

“I’m very sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude or anything. It’s very unlike me, I assure you. It’s just, I want Dick to...Be alright.”

He says, smiling shyly at you. And you can’t help but thinks this is probably not a look people are used to see on Bruce Wayne’s face.

“No no no, I’m the one who is sorry. Your concern was totally receivable, and I didn’t really help my case by being an as-um, very immature right afterward.”

“Well, let’s start all over, alright ? I’m Bruce Wayne. And this is my ward, Dick. He’s going to be your student this year.”

“I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N), I’m um...Going to be your ward’s teacher.”

“Well, a pleasure to meet you miss (Y/N/L). I’m sure we’ll see a lot of each others, in this coming years.”

He tells you with a charming smile. And you try to pack in your brain all the rumors about him being a womanizer, to try and take away how attractive he is. How handsome, sure. But also how his voice is deep and soft to the ear, and how he genuinely seemed to care about his kid in that short meeting...You almost forget his rudeness. Well. He did apologize.

“Pleasure to meet you too, and I’m sure we will.”

Bruce shook your hand, and crouched down to be at Dick’s eye level. He put a hand on his head and said :

“Well chum, see you tonight ?”

“Yup !”

There’s a short silence, and you can see Bruce wants to say more but is searching for his words. Finally, he says :

“Are you going to be ok ?”

The boy smiles widely, and nods enthusiastically. Bruce gives him a worried smile, and after ruffling his hair stands up, and leaves. But not without turning around one last time, as he’s about to disappear at the corner of the corridor, and waving at his boy. Dick waves back, and puts his thumbs up.

Everything was going to be ok !

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

Nothing was going to be ok !

What was Dick doing ? He should’ve said to Bruce he was really scared and worried about starting everything over in this new school ! He was pretty sure that if he had, Bruce would’ve taken him with him to work, and give him time to not be afraid anymore.

Bruce was like that. Always caring about his feelings first. He would probably homeschool him if he wanted...but that’s not what Dick wanted. Although he was thinking about it right now.

He did want to go to a normal school. And see the friends he made while in the circus. And have good teachers (this miss (Y/N/L) sounded great). But it was still scary ?

Dick could act as if he was confident and outgoing all he wanted, he was still an eight (almost nine) year old boy who was about to be thrown into an unknown environment. Not very reassuring. He was thinking...

“I’m nervous too, you know.”

“Huh ?”

“This is the first class i’m going to teach as an actual teacher, and not just a substitue teacher. It’s very nerve wracking. I’m also about to meet a whole lot of new people, that’s always a bit scary, right ?”

“Right.”

The boy answers, feeling his nervousness slowly fading away, as you smile at him reassuringly. It kind of reminds him of how Bruce would talk about his own problems to relate to his, which always helped him understand things more.

It helped him greatly, when he thought about his parents, and Bruce told him about his...

“Let’s make a deal. If I feel like I’m going to freak out, I’ll say “banana”, and you’ll make a diversion so I can escape ok ? And if you feel like you’re about to freak out, ask me if you can have some bananas and I’ll make something up so you can go in the corridor to regain some countenance ok ?”

“...Bananas ?”

“Ok, ok banana maybe isn’t the right word. What about...”

Oh god, the kid was most definitely thinking you were crazy, right ? You were trying to find a way to actually make him feel comfortable, and tell him it was ok if today become too overwhelming and he needed to take a break from all this novelty. Oh geez if you couldn’t make one child feel ok, could you even hold a full classroom ?!

“What about saying we need to go to the bathroom ? Everyone needs to go to the bathroom at one point.”

“Oh, brilliant idea Dick ! So, if we both feel like things are too much, our escape plan will be the bathroom...ok ?”

“Ok !”

The boy answers excitedly, and you feel a sudden wave of relief. Ok. Good. Mission accomplished. He was clearly not feeling as nervous anymore. And you ? Well, this little victory calmed you down quite a bit as well.

Still though, as you pushed the door to your classroom and was met with all your new students, you felt like saying you needed to go to the bathroom right away...

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

When Dick came home that night, he wore the widest smile Bruce saw him wear for a long time. And oh, oh he was so excited to talk about what he did that day.

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

“Miss (Y/L/N), Miss (Y/L/N) !”

Dick calls you across the corridor, as the rest of the children exit the school to go home. It’s the end of today’s lessons, and you’re exhausted. You can’t wait to go home, but you never really mind doing some extra hours to answer a kid’s question.

Especially when said kid is Dick Grayson.

Of course, you’re not playing favorites in your class, oh no no no you would never...But you liked that kid.

Dick walks to you, and waits a few minutes for the corridor to empty out. And then he looks up at you, and as if it was the most evident question in the World, he says :

“Can you be my dad’s girlfriend ?”

For the first time in ages, you can feel your face growing hotter, all the way up to your ears. You spit the coffee you were drinking, and you turn to the little boy who just asked you the cutest question ever, that also made you highly uncomfortable.

“Um uh I um uh...What ?”

You totally blank. You. The person who spend her entire days answering kids’ questions, no matter how weird and kinda useless. And here you were. Completely unable to say anything.

“Can you be my dad’s girlfriend ?”

There another short pause, where you just stare at the boy and he stares back, not flinching one bit. And then there’s a sudden light in his eyes, as if he just understood something, and adds :

“Please ?”

And it kind of melts your heart, how he thinks you weren’t answering because he wasn’t being polite. Trying to choose your words carefully, you say :

“What brought this up ?”

You knew that asking their thought process first, could help you greatly understand a child.

“Well, you’re great and pretty and nice and the best teacher I ever had and he needs to be taken care of. You take great care of us !”

“Dick, your dad isn’t a child anymore..”

You smile at all the compliments the boy gave you. How sweet and innocent. You also smile at him calling Bruce his “dad”.

As the school year unfolded, you saw a shift in Dick’s behavior. A good shift. He opened up more and more, and it was obvious he was slowly finding a new family again, without forgetting the one he lost.

You actually thought Bruce’s approach to tell him he could call him whatever he wanted, and that Dick’s parents would probably just want for him to be happy, and would be happy themselves he wasn’t alone...Was very cute.

You talked about it with him in a parent/teacher meeting. Of course, you had said meeting with all “your” kids’ parents. Not just Bruce. Um.

“I know he isn’t ! Though believe me he acts like one sometimes. But I’m saying that because...I think he’s lonely ? And sad ? Sometimes it feels like he’s just not with us you know ? I don’t know how to explain it, I don’t have the words to...”

Oh but you see exactly what Dick means. You noticed it too. Sometimes, Bruce, when he thought no one was looking, had this melancholic look in his eyes, as if lost in his own dark world indeed.

Not that you saw Bruce THAT often. I mean, just like you saw the other students’ parents really. After all, the school this year really worked on involving the parents more. You and the principal really had the same ideas, and you thought that getting the parents right into the student’s school life was vital for a good development.

“Dick, you know you can’t just become someone’s girlfriend like that ?”

“Sure you can ! I asked Rose McDowell yesterday if she’d be my girlfriend, and she said yes ! It’s simple, you have to ask and then you’re in love.”

You smile at how sweet this child simplified vision of love is, and say :

“Adults are complicated, Dick. We can’t just fall in love by asking someone if they want to be our girlfriend or boyfriend. We have to go on dates, and know each others, and such things ?”

“But miss, you know my dad. If you’re not sure about something, ask me ! I know everything about him, and if I don’t, then Alfred must know !”

Again, you smile at how easy that little boy seems to find solutions to any problems. And oh you wished it was that simple.

“This isn’t how it works, Dick. You have to have feelings for each others, too.”

“Well, I know he likes you !”

You feel your heart jump in your chest, and a rush of excitement...Until you realize. “Simplified answers and solutions”. And thinking he loves little Rose. Dick clearly does not know what “likes” truly mean, and might mix up friendship feelings with love.

After all, it was true you and Bruce got along. Strictly in a...teacher/parent kind of relationship of course. Let’s just say Bruce Wayne agreed with your kind of teaching. Not every parents saw eye to eye with your “fun” methods and such.

So in the eye of a kid, agreeing with each others might seem like this “like” feeling. But really, there was NO way a man like Bruce Wayne would be interested in someone like you.

You saw the models he dated at charity balls and other galas. It never lasted long, and he had much less flings since he officially adopted Dick, but you still saw how they looked and such. Why, when he had such options, would he go for a plain elementary teacher like you ?

“Dick, I don’t think he likes me in the way boyfriends like their girlfriends, do you understand what I mean ?”

“There’s more than one way to like a person !?”

The boy seemed blown away by that, and you can’t help but smile once again his innocence :

“Of course there is. You don’t like Bruce the same way you like Rose, right ? Or your friend Harry ?”

Quick connections seem to be made in his little head, and he nods slowly. But oh horror, his shoulders flop down dejectedly, and he looks sad now. You don’t have time to try and find a way to make him understand everything is alright as he says :

“So you don’t like him ? I mean, like like him ?”

Smart boy. He understood fast that there were indeed a difference between love and friendship. Or at least, he understood the concept of it. You smile and you say :

“No buddy, no I don’t like like him.”

It’s a blatant lie, but sometimes, for a child’s own good, a lie is the best solution.

Because even if by some miracle Bruce Wayne “liked liked” you, he was still one of your student’s parent. When you were in college, one of your teacher hammered in your head that it was highly unethical to date a student’s parent, and this principle just stuck in there.

No. No way. You could never date Bruce Wayne. Because even if he liked you back (back ?) the fact was, he’d forever be one of your student’s parent, even the day Dick would go to the next grade...

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

Dick moves on to the fourth grade, and it’s quite painful to let go of this very first class you’ve ever taught. Those kids that help you grow as a teacher, as you lead them on the path of knowledge.

For an entire year, you all learned from each others, and it’s with a heavy heart you see those children moving on to the next class, as you welcome new kids yourself.

Wow. You didn’t think it would be that hard. But it really is. Even more so because you know, no matter the impact you had on those kids’ life, they’re bound to forget you one day...It was a sad thought, but one you wrongfully thought would be true.

Actual truth was, you shaped a lot of those children’s lives and they’d forever be grateful that you never gave up on them.

And as a new year starts, and your class is full of unfamiliar faces, you have to face the fact that this is what being a teacher is.

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

For the next few years, you don’t really see him. Briefly in the school’s corridor as he goes to a parent/teacher meeting or something of the like. Or in the principal’s office, after he made yet another large donation for the school (since his son enrolled in a “normal” school, Bruce got very involved in the education system in Gotham and donated a lot of money to a lot of schools in rough neighborhoods, unknowingly accomplishing your lifelong dream).

But you don’t see him as much as when Dick was in your class.

Which makes sense...Why would you keep seeing Bruce Wayne ?

You saw him often because you were the kind of teacher to involve the parent a lot. You saw him when Dick decided to make an expose on him, and dragged him in his classroom (it was very funny to see the famed Bruce Wayne awkwardly standing in front of a bunch of kids). You saw him when you had to talk about Dick’s progress or problems. You...Well, you saw him like every other parent. Nothing special was going on.

And now, as you don’t have his kid as a student anymore, of course you see him less.

But sometimes, sometimes when you finish work and walk back to your car, he waves at you from his own car (he always made sure to pick his son up) and smiles, and honestly...It’s enough for you.

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

This sort of non-relationship goes on for a very long time. Where you quickly see each others in hallways, waving at each others in the parking lot, and catching up with quick conversations that are always the same :

“Hello Mister Wayne.”

“Hello Miss (Y/L/N).”

“How are you today ?”

“Fantastic, and you ?”

“Great. Well, I have to go to my class.”

“Yes, I have to go to. It was nice seeing you.”

“You too.”

Hundreds and hundreds of short conversations, that started to mean a lot to you, even more so since Dick was almost going to graduate primary school and..Oh god.

You had a crush on Bruce Wayne.

Then again, in Gotham city, with how much he appeared on TV and such, a lot of people had a crush on Bruce Wayne.

But you…well, he was handsome, nice, funny, but most of all, he cared so much about this little boy he adopted, that…how could you resist really ? You rationalized everything by thinking that you liked him so much only because of how much he cared for Dick (who wasn’t even your student anymore !).

Of course. People caring about "your" kids, about their education and all, always kinda made you melt. Even more so when they were single parent !

Yes. Yes you didn't really liked Bruce Wayne. You didn't really have a crush on him. You just…Admired how well he took care of that kid that suddenly appeared in his life. Hell, he seemed to take care of him better than the parents who had their own children since birth…It was something.

Of course, you were sure their "butler", Alfred Pennyworth, that you met a few times, was for something in all this. Still. It was very sweet. And impressive. And all those feelings gave you the impression you had a crush on him...but you really don’t, right ?

No. No you don’t. Oh, but here he comes, you know he has a meeting with Dick’s 6th grade teacher and...

“Hello, Miss (Y/N/L).”

“Hello, Mister Wayne.”

The same conversation.

Over and over again.

And it always ends on large smiles being exchanged, and a short pause, as if neither of you truly want to leave...

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

Dick graduated sixth grade and you stopped seeing Bruce Wayne.

It made you oddly sad, but then again...That’s how life went, right ? It was time to move on from your silly crush that lasted those past three years.

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

JASON.

Another year passes, and you’re slowly getting over Bruce Wayne. Your heart doesn’t beat as fast when you see him on TV, and you started to date men there and there, when you felt like you wanted to be with someone.

After his graduation, you didn’t see Dick again, which confirmed your theory that no matter the impact you had on a child, when they moved on...They moved on.

The truth was, Dick never forgot you, and wish he would have had the time to go back to his old school. But middle school was harder and more demanding than elementary school, and with his nightly activities...

But he never forgot the first teacher he had that made him feel like he could do anything. And that was always understanding, and adapted her way of teaching for every single kids in the class.

But that, you did not know. And you thought you had moved on, too. Until you saw him again. At the exact same place you met. In front of the principal office.

“Mister Wayne ?!”

“Miss (Y/L/N) !”

He says with a warm smile, his hands on the shoulders of a little boy that couldn’t be older than ten or eleven. And you understand that he adopted again, and realize that yup, you still have a crush on Bruce Wayne.

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

After Dick's debacle at Gotham Academy, how much he hated it and such…Bruce figured that with Jason, he'd just let him choose.

So he went and took brochures from each school, and brought them back to the Manor for Jason to take a look at. Alfred had a little tear at the corner of his eye, when he witnessed his master going all around Gotham just to pick up infos on every single school so his kid could choose…

It was particularly refreshing that since Young Master Dick left, Bruce felt lonely.

Even more so given the conditions they parted at the time…ah but that was another story, and the butler had no doubt in his mind that Dick would come around, forgive his father and vice versa. After all, young Master Dick was a teenager now (not since very long), he had to rebel at some point, and it did some good to Bruce to have someone disagreeing with his methods and making him reconsider things…But again, that was another story.

For now, everything was about Bruce going well out of his way to make sure Jason would be comfortable.

"You can go wherever you want."

"Really ?"

"Yes, you're the boss. Choose where you want to go."

Jason's face brightened, and Bruce couldn't help but smile at him.

That little boy clearly had so few choices in his life…Oh god, Bruce hoped that suddenly having so many choices wouldn't overwhelm him !

But the boy was carefully studying brochures one by one, putting them away in three different piles. Bruce wondered for a second why, when the kid looked at him and understood his silent question :

"This pile is for the "big no no never", this one is for the "maybe", and this one is for "good ones""

Ah. Made sense. Organized little feller.

This went on for a few minutes until he picked up one brochure and exclaimed :

"Hey that's my old school !"

Bruce turned to look at what school Jason was pointing to. Oh.

Oh.

Wow.

It was Dick's old school, too.

The one in a not so nice neighborhood that he wanted to go to because friends he made while at the circus went there. And it used to be Jason's ? Well. It made sense. Also, fate had funny ways sometimes.

“And do you want to go back there ?”

“Well I only went one year there, but I think I still know people who are still there...It might be nice, to already know a few people ?”

“So this one ?”

“I think so, yes. This one. I have a good feeling about it !”

Bruce smiled, and...Did that mean he would see you again ?

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

“This is my son, Jason.”

He says proudly, hands holding reassuringly the boy’s shoulders.

Oh yes, yes you vaguely remember reading an article about how Bruce Wayne adopted a new kid, after his older son went away in boarding school (which always made you feel odd, Dick didn’t sound like the boarding school type of kid ? Ah, but he must’ve been about 14 or 15 now, right ? Maybe his teen years weren’t going as smoothly as his childhood...).

Wondering if you should ask how Dick is, or if it was maybe too personal given the circumstances, you turn to look at Jason and...

"Hey I remember you. You used to come to this school right ? In a few class below the one I teach currently, and then one day you disappeared !"

"You-You remember me ?"

"I always notice children that seem a little-"

"Odd ?"

"No, not odd. Sad. It was obvious something didn't go well in your household. I’ve been teaching long enough to...notice you guys. When you disappeared I asked you teacher and she told me you turned bad. There was no infos on where you lived so I couldn't go and see…I'm very glad you, in fact, turned the opposite of bad !"

"You…would've try to find me ?"

"Of course ! "Turning bad" is something too easily accepted in Gotham ! If you don't give up on a child, who might not have an ideal family environment, then they have a better chance ! Of course it doesn't always work, I did have a lot of failure…but a few hold on, and those few matters !"

Jason’s mind was blown away. He stopped going to school when his mom overdosed...He was 8, and suddenly had to fend off for himself, as no one cared to know what happened to the “son of that junkie on the third floor”.

He survived as he could, by committing petty crimes and dangerous stunts. Until Bruce found him (or rather, until Jason stole the Batmobile’s tires and got caught).

And here he was, having a home again for the first time in ever, and faced with a woman that genuinely was concerned about him, but didn’t have the means to help.

And what would’ve happened if she had ? Well, Jason was glad she didn’t. She seemed nice, but he wouldn’t trade his new dad for the world.

Bruce was his hero. And he loved him dearly. Why would he want any other parent now ? He had one that, in his eyes, was perfect for him.

“So, you know him ?”

Bruce was looking at you with eyes full of interests. The little speech you made about going out of your way to make sure every kids you encountered was ok...moved him. It stirred something in his heart. Something good.

Something that felt nice.

“Well, not per se. But I saw him around, like I said. It’s very nice to properly meet you, Jason.”

“Likewise, Miss...”

“(Y/N/L).”

You answer with a smile, and Jason finds himself wishing you’ll be his teacher, for this first year back to school in a while.

“It’s unfortunate that Jason here, is entering fifth grade. He will not have you as a teacher...”

“Fifth grade ? Well what a coincidence. I’ve been teaching that class for the past two years, to break the routine, you know ? There’s a lot to learn in fifth grade, it’s a pivotal year for kids, so I’m glad I was transferred to that class ! And I’m double glad because that mean we’ll see a lot of each others, Jason.”

And you smile at him, making him blush because he’s still not used to people being nice to him like that...

Bruce smiles too, but not for the same reasons. So you’re teaching fifth grade now huh ? Well. That means you’ll see a whole lot of HIM too...

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

Young Jason Todd.

Brilliant child.

Promising. You were sure he would have a very VERY bright future ! It wouldn’t surprise you if he was the one to take on Wayne Enterprise, he was THAT smart. Yes. Bright future in coming for sure (um...).

More studious than Dick was. More attentive, too. Dick could sometimes be the class clown, and get distracted. But Jason ? Jason was listening carefully, drinking your every words, and oh it was so nice to have a student like him in your class ?

Even more so when you knew that he could’ve turned very bad if Bruce didn’t adopt him...Ah damn. This just enhanced exponentially your crush on Bruce.

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

It’s like it’s a redo of when Dick was your student.

Once again, you see a lot of Bruce Wayne (and are comforted that this will go on for at least one year afterward, until Jason graduated). But since his son is your student again, he’s often at the school.

Working with the principal to help financially, and participating greatly in Jason’s school life.

And the crush continued, although you were pretty sure he just saw you as his kid’s teacher...Then again, why would he see you any differently ?

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

“YEAAAAH GO GIANNNNNNTS !!”

Jason screams at the top of his lungs, standing up on his chair in the massive Knightsdome Sporting Complex, watching with attention the baseball match unfolding in front of his eyes.

For his birthday, the boy asked to go to a game with his dad, and here he was, with Bruce...at a game. Not any game. The game of the year !

And he was so excited and hyped, that Bruce didn’t regret one bit taking the day off from Wayne Enterprise to be able to come with him here.

And that’s when he sees you.

You’re a few row down, on the left, and you’re...Talking with a guy.

Who was that guy ?

The dude kisses your cheek and Bruce’s heart tighten. Probably your boyfriend.

Something escaped him though...Why was seeing his kid’s teacher with her boyfriend made him feel so melancholic ? Why did it hurt his heart ?

And then the answer came as easily as Jason screaming in happiness as his favorite team just scored a point...He had a crush on you.

He was pretty sure he had a crush on you ever since he met you, when it was Dick’s first day. And all this year he was your student, and the moments you shared with him...The moments you shared ? What was he saying ?! You didn’t share any moments. You were just his son’s teacher !

It was normal to have meetings and such. And then, it was just courtoisie to say hello after that, when Dick was still in the school. Right ? No matter if he wasn’t as close to any other of Dick’s teachers...If he wasn’t as involved. They weren’t like you and...

This was stupid. You were his kid’s teacher. He couldn’t have a crush on you.

Ah but now you smile, and throw an arm around that guy’s shoulder, looking happy and. It dampens Bruce’s mood greatly. Why ? Why does he feel so blue ? This is suppose to be a great moment with his son, why are his eyes fixed on you and...

“DAD DAD !! DID YOU SEE THAT DAD !!!???? THIS WAS AWESOME !!”

Dad. This is the first time Jason calls him dad. And Bruce focuses back on the boy, lying about having seen “that”, and looking at his son enthusiastically jumping up and down his chair in excitement. Cute boy.

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

“Thanks for those killer seats, sis’.”

“No problem, I’m enjoying it too haha. Happy birthday, dumbass !”

You say, putting your arm around your younger brother’s shoulders, while enjoying seeing the Giants kicking Metropolis’ team’s ass.

Aaaah, you loved baseball.

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

“AH YES GOOO GIANNNNTS.”

Jason was still screaming, holding a stray ball Bruce caught for him above his head in a sign of victory. They were walking up the path to Wayne Manor’s entrance now, but Jason’s excitement still hadn’t gone down.

He was still jumping all around, talking about how cool everything was, and how much he loved the stray ball Bruce caught, and how he hoped he’ll get it signed one day, and how much he loved his new Giants t-shirt, and his new giants cap, and his new Giants baseball pants, and his new Giants shoes, and how he wished he could wear all of it to school and...

“Hey, why don’t you ask miss (Y/N/L) to be your girlfriend ?”

The sudden question takes him by surprise and he stops mid-way up the stairs to the entrance, and stare at his son.

“What ?”

Jason talked so much and so fast, the past hour, that Bruce didn’t catch everything he talked about, and most certainly missed how they arrived on this subject ?

“Why don’t you ask miss (Y/N/L) to be your girlfriend ?”

“That’s...I..You...She...We...I...”

It’s the first time Jason sees his father stutter, and he realizes he must’ve stroke a cord with that question. He smiles slyly and adds :

“Oh you thought about it huh ?”

He got up a few stairs ahead of his dad so he could be at his level, and nudged him with his shoulder knowingly, being absolutely obnoxious.

“What are you talking about ? She’s your teacher, we can’t !”

There’s a short silence, during which Jason loses his smirk that is replaced by a confused expression and, as simple as that, he asks :

“Why ? You like her, no ?”

Yes. Yes he did...But it was more complicated than that. And she apparently had a boyfriend ! Bruce didn’t feel like ruining the day trying to explain his conflicted feelings to his son, and so he said :

“Because she’s your teacher, and that’s that.”

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

Three years after Jason isn’t your student anymore, you hear about his death. In the worst way possible. Through the TV, as you’re preparing dinner.

And it shatters you. You’ve always liked Jason a lot, he was so bright, he was supposed to have a successful future !!

He died during the Joker’s terrorist attack, apparently, along with a few other people. And it was the most tragic day of your life...

You don’t see Bruce for years, after that.

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

After Jason’s death, you vowed your entire life to teaching, even more than before. It became vitale to you, that future generations would make this city better, would give it some sort of sense.

Because in which world was it normal for a 15 years old boy to die because yet another psycho was roaming the streets ?

Jason fuels even more your wish to make this city a more bearable place to live in, and you work more than ever towards this goal, creating the “Jason Todd school foundation”, a name barely in homage to the student who inspired this entire action. In homage of a student who particularly touched your heart, and represented in himself why there was a desperate need to improve the education in Gotham City.

Your non-profit charity works harder than any other, to improve schools in Gotham, and give a better chance to this kids.

One of your biggest donator is a certain Bruce Wayne, but you still don’t see him anymore.

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

TIM.

It’s only when he sees you talking to one of your students, right there, at the end of the hallway, that he realizes how much he missed you.

Two years passed since...Since his life completely changed. Since everything was painted in black again. And yet, yet it feels like it was yesterday he saw your smile.

He heard your voice.

He saw you care for “your” children.

It’s like a small ray of sunshine in his heart, as he finally sees you again. After Jason...After what happened, he felt like he couldn’t face you. Like he couldn’t face one of the only person in the world that cared greatly about that boy.

And so he avoided you. But Destiny brought him back in your path, and as you notice him, and a natural smile spreads across your face...He realizes how much he missed you.

In his hand, he squeezes Tim’s hand a little tighter, and the boy looks up at his dad curiously. What got into him ?

The other small ray of sunshine in his dark and dry heart, his new son, is about to asks him what’s up, when he sees how his dad is looking at that woman, at the end of the hallway.

Timothy Drake-Wayne has always been the smartest little boy around, and he immediately understands what is going on...

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

"So you can choose chum. Either school. This is Gotham Academy, the "best" one but it really has that reputation because…money. And then that's the one Dick and…Dick went to. He liked it very much, the facilities are not as nice, but the teachers are passionate."

Bruce doesn’t mention Jason, even though Tim is pretty sure Jason too, went to that school. But he knows it’s a delicate subject, so he does not mention it.

"Where did he go ? Why wasn't he in Gotham Academy ?"

"He couldn't get along with people."

"…Dick ? Our Dick ? Not getting along with people ?"

Tim was properly shocked.

"He can get mad very fast, you know ? Remember when you beat him at Smash Bros ?

"Oh yeah…He broke the controller. I just thought it was an occasional thing ! He really likes smash bros"

"It's not that occasional. He can get very angry very fast. And the kids in Gotham Academy weren't very nice to him, so he got angry often. It was also not long after his parents…”

"Oh. I get it…Well, I want to go where Dick went !"

Bruce’s heart tighten at the mere idea to see you again.

Was he ready to face you, after ignoring you for two years ? After Jason stopped being your student, the boy still went to see you, as you really changed his life. He wanted to be a teacher, too, so he often came and observe...Which meant you saw a lot of Bruce too.

And Bruce felt like he owed you an explanation. About how Jason...But he couldn’t. He couldn’t face you. He just couldn’t.

Something in him made him sure that if he would talk to you, he’d break down. He’d tell you everything. Everything.

And he just couldn’t do that.

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

Tim hated school. For the past two years, he got away from not going by falsifying a paper where he forged his parents’ signature saying he was now homeschooled. The truth was, his parents never really paid attention to what he was doing, and since he hated school...

He might as well not go, and do other things of his days. Like discovering who the Batman was !

And he did, he did found out ! Shortly after that, and after stubbornly going to Wayne Manor days after days so Bruce would train him, he lost his parents ...And got adopted by the Batman himself.

It was strange, because Bruce paid a lot of attention to what he was doing. Actually, he was borderline overprotective sometimes...Of course, Tim knew it was because of the Robin-he-wasn’t-allowed-to-talk-about.

Jason Todd. The brother that he’ll never know. Only Dick, talked to him about that (after Jason’s death, Dick came back to the Manor to support Bruce, and enrolled in a high school downtown, where he was a senior). Bruce never mentioned him, but Tim saw him spend hours standing in front of Jason’s old suit, and staring at it...

But that was another story. That nonetheless explained why Bruce was being particularly protective of him (like, he still held his hand when they were walking in the streets and stuffs like that, even though Tim was 9 now !).

In any way, Tim still hated school, and it’s full of “don’t wanna” and dreading the boring hours he’d spend in class learning things he already knew, that he dragged his feet across the corridor to go to his first class.

Dick told him about the teacher, apparently he had him in third grade. Great. A third grade teacher teaching fifth grader. Wow. He would learn sooooo much.

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

This was the first time in his life Tim actually liked school. Sure, you were teaching a lot of things he already knew but the methods you were using, with games and fun things so they’d remember better, was amazing !

It didn’t feel like school, yet as the end of the day drew near, Tim realized he actually learned a lot of things ! WOW ! And for the first time in his life, Tim couldn’t wait for the next day.

You too, couldn’t wait for the next day, as it was going to be the first teacher/student conference, and you’d see your forbidden crush, Bruce Wayne.

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

“So, are you going to take miss (Y/L/N) on a date ?”

“What ?”

Bruce and Tim were in one of the car, driving back home, when Tim just jumped right into it.

“Pleaaase, all this chit chat you guys had was unbearable. You talked so much about nothing.”

“We were talking about your latest test, chum.”

“Right. For the first two seconds. Then you made up excuses to keep talking.”

“Well, you sure have a great imagination. Miss (Y/L/N) said so herself.”

“Oh really dad, we’re really going to go that way ? You’re going to deny it ?”

“Tim, we were just talking about you. That’s it. Just like any parents and teachers.”

“...Riiiiiight.”

Obviously, the boy wasn’t convinced. However, he dropped the subject, too surprised by the fact his father’s face was slowly turning bright red.

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

Cassandra.

“This is my new sister Cass !”

Tim says enthusiastically, smiling widely at you.

“She’s older than me, but she um...isn’t from this country, so never went really to school so that’s why she’s in your class and I’m in sixth grade ! She’s very nice ! She’s coming here because I’m here too ! She wanted to be where I was ! She’s my sister !”

“Cass” looks at you curiously, a bit of shyness in her eyes too, and when you raise a hand to shake hers, she flinches back.

It doesn’t take you long to recognize all the signs of a child that was beaten by her parents, and a rush of anger climbs inside you.

Tim, after he introduced his sister, rushes to his own class, and you’re left with Cass as the rest of your students come in.

She goes from one foot to the other, unsure of what she’s supposed to do in this first day of school, and it’s obvious...it really is, her first day of school.

And already, you think of a plan to make her feel welcome. To make her feel like it’s ok if she doesn’t get everything right away, or if she isn’t at the same level than others.

You quickly realizes she does not speak much, most likely because she wasn’t really taught to. It breaks your heart, and you do everything in your power to adapt your class for her. To give her that extra support.

And in that case, isn’t about having a favorite or not, it’s about being there for kids who need it. It’s your entire life’s work up until now.

Cass incarnates exactly why you became a teacher.

**********

“You. Like her.”

Cass says simply, touching her father’s chest, and then pointing at you, who’s currently helping a few kids finishing last minutes decoration for the school play.

Bruce turns to you, looking longingly at you as you smile to the kids, and help Tim put his hat on properly (he was playing President Lincoln..). Of course, just as he was looking at you, you had to take care of his kids.

His feelings for you were always stronger, when he saw you with one of his children. You’ve always been such a great teacher, caring so much for them.

Of course, you cared about all your students. More often than not, you went out of your way to make sure a kid had enough food, or was treated properly. Went out of your way to go after children who stopped coming to class, dragging them back in.

How could he not like you ?

He turns to Cass now. His only daughter. His sweet, sweet daughter. How could he lie to her ? It is impossible.

And so, for the first time since, years ago at a certain baseball game, he realized he had a crush on you (that might’ve turned into something more now), he says aloud :

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

Cass smiles sadly, because she understands he’ll never act upon his feelings for multiple reasons. And she understands her precious “Miss (Y/N/L)” won’t either...

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

It’s interesting, how your relationship evolved, in almost ten years. From when Dick first became your student, to when Cass left your class for the last time.

Nowadays, you actually became friends, mainly because Bruce became one of the board member of your Charity.

You had to admit this was going beyond a simple teacher/parent relationship (as if it hadn’t been that way for years). But...but you’d never cross a certain line

Neither of you would admit your feelings. You’d simply stare at each others from a far, and look away when the other turned their head toward you.

You started to call each others by your first names, but it just made sense.

You were friends now. Nothing more. Even if Cass wasn’t your student anymore, neither were any of his other kids...Things could still not go further.

That’s simply how things were.

He did not want to drag you in his life, and felt like it was inappropriate to date his kids’ teacher (even if technically you weren’t anymore, you were still “Miss (Y/N/L)” to all of them). And the media would crush you...

As for you, in your head, those kids, even if the oldest one was going on his twenties, were still your students. And you had a strong ethic..

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

DAMIAN.

“I don’t see why I have to go to this...public school, father”

At the word “public”, Damian shivered slightly and Bruce couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Oh, how he wished his boy wouldn’t have inherited his dramatic side...

"Your brothers and sister loved this school."

"Don't call them that please, they're not my-"

"You're my son. They're my children too. You're their brother. End of story."

There’s a short silence, where Damian scoffs. He breaks his stubborn silence, realizing his father wasn’t going to budge, and adds :

“Yes well like I said, they weren’t use to a high standard of living. Mother hired the best private tutors and such. If they’re satisfied with mediocrity then good for them.”

“Well, here’s another reason to go to this school. Detach yourself from this type of life, isn’t that what you want to do ? Plus I think it would do you nicely to be a little more humble.”

“Humble ? My life is anything but humble !”

“Except for the fact that now, you’re going to a normal public school in a not so nice neighborhood in Gotham”

At those words, Damian’s eyes widen. Did his father just...make a joke ? Oh the smirk on his face was undeniable, he just mocked him !

“Hey, I-”

“Bruce ! Ah, and you must be Damian ?”

You say, as you see the both of them. Damian scoffs, and you take the conclusion that yes, it must be him.

Bruce talked to you on the phone about his youngest son, who recently came into his life after...A lot of complications. He didn’t really tell you what happened, but you understood he dated a woman long ago and she had a son, and hid him from him. Which outraged you. But also was none of your business...

In any case, he talked to you about Damian. He had been raised in very high society, and warned you a little about him. But oh, you did not believe a child needed warnings. No matter what, you’d find a way to properly teach that boy. A method that would suit him. Like you did for all of your students (and man did you already had some tough cookies in your classes).

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

Damian looked at his father, and then at you, and how you smiled at each others stupidly. And frowned. You left to ask something to the principal, and Damian turned to his father, saying :

“Mm. Are you sure you put me in this school to teach me how to be humble, or did you just want to see that teacher again ?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, boy.”

But Damian was not stupid, he could clearly see how his father’s eyes were lingering behind you, and how you smiled at him.

It made him sick.

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

You held Damian back at the end of a class, to talk about his latest test.

He had made no mistake, and punctuated the entire thing with personal comments such as : “a baby would know this” and other “I could answer this one in Japanese” (and proceeding to write his entire answer in kanjis) etc etc...Which made you think that obviously, that kid did not want to be here.

And most definitely could jump further into his studies, if he thought this class was much too easy. You had the occasion to see his tests and his attention in class, and it was clear the “high society” from which he came from educated him very very well.

With an unimpressed look, Damian picked his stuffs up and went to your desk. You showed him his test, and said :

“It has come to my attentions, thanks to your very...Smooth comments, that this class is probably not up to your level. I was thinking maybe we could see to have you skip a grade or two. Would that be something you want ?”

He shrugs, still not looking very concern, and you sigh. In three months in your class, Damian hadn’t opened up at all. He was most definitely one tough cookie to crack...You sigh, and say :

“I’ll talk to your father about it.”

“Useless, he won’t accept.”

“Really ? Why ?”

“He thinks I need to learn how to be humble.”

“Ah. And what do you think ?”

“Why would I hide how good I am at things ?”

“Ah but Damian, being humble isn’t about hiding that you’re good, but accepting and knowing there’s always room for improvement.”

You say with a smile, and it...does something to him.

It’s not that your words have a particular impact on him, he heard Alfred or his “siblings” telling this kind of things hundred of times.

But there’s something in your face that makes him flinch. Moves something inside him. It’s like...It’s like you genuinely care.

Damian never really saw anyone looking at him with this expression. Clearly wanting to breach the gap, to make a jump and truly want the best for him.

Of course, his father really tried to bond with him, but they still didn’t get each others at all. And with his siblings ? Tt, he had no siblings. With the others, he always tried to be better (without always succeeding), and it frustrated them. With reasons.

So he never saw that particular smile, that particular expression. A genuine and hopeful smile. Someone not judging him in the least, and ready to give him a chance, even after he spend the last three months being horrible to them...

Damian couldn’t understand why you were looking at him like that. Why you had so much hope for him, why you didn’t give up already, why...Why ?

Why were you smiling at him, while he made all the effort in the world to make you understand he did not want to be here ?

Why ?

He couldn’t understand. He hated not understanding.

And it made him...sick ?

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

Why did it make him sick again ? After a few more months of school, he couldn’t remember the reason.

Classes were...Pleasant to him, when you were teaching them. He found himself wanting to listen. Wanting to participate. Wanting to talk.

You had a way of approaching subjects that made everything fun, that made everyone wanting to learn more.

Why did he dislike you so much at first ? Probably because he wasn’t used to someone genuinely caring about his well-being ? He had been surrounded by fakes and people trying to kill him since his birth, it was difficult to believe there were some good people on Earth.

Bruce, just like how he noticed Cass’ speech improve after a few months in your class, noticed his son opening up more and more.

He was still quite introverted, and sometimes acted like a brat...but he was also just a ten years old boy. He couldn’t be perfect.

There was no doubt in Bruce’s mind that the way Damian slowly changed his mind and changed for the better, came in big part thanks to your class. It also, of course, came from the fact he had amazing children who weren’t about to let Damian get away with treating them as if they weren’t part of the family.

Instead of getting mad at him though, they just involved him more in their lives, wether he wanted to or not (something they most definitely picked up from your class, where you always made sure everyone was included, and had a “non judgement zone” installed). And slowly but surely, he got used to it.

He got used to say they were his brothers and sister. That they were a family. He got used to bicker over siblings stuffs, but not to hate them anymore just because they existed.

He was raised to be like that. Individualist, and taught to crush anyone he deemed a threat. For him, the children his father adopted were a great threat, they could steal his legacy...But slowly, he realized all he had been taught was rotten.

It took time, of course. And patience.

But the fact no one was willing to give up on him made him feel things. For the first time in his life, he felt what that “love” thing was, and what being actually cared for felt like.

A mix of a healthy family environment (and an escape to kick ass at night, and release some frustration), and a good school environment, and slowly but surely, Damian really did improve.

Of course, the change came from him. He was the one wanting to change, wanting to be part of something...But he most definitely had great help along the way.

Everything culminated the day he had to do an expose for his class, and chose Tim as his subject.

Of course, Tim knew nothing about it. Damian had come to see him as his brother, and would often boast to his friends at school how great his siblings were...but he’d never tell them to their face.

Only you knew, how greatly he admired his big brother Tim. He talked a lot about how Tim was only 16 and already managing a lot of things at their father’s enterprise, and he couldn’t help but digress to brag about his other siblings too, who were all very successful.

And no one in his family would ever have known, if it wasn’t for you who called Bruce to tell him about this absolutely beautiful expose Damian did about his siblings...It made you almost tear up. Even more so when he talked about “the brother he never met”, Jason (who was alive at the time, and back in the family, but the public still thought he was dead...however Damian couldn’t help but talk and brag about him too, even if he had to use the past tense. He would realize only later, how insensitive it could be to have done that in front of you, who still hadn’t gotten over his death...).

You told everything to Bruce, and it almost sounded like you talked about your own son. It did all kind of things to Bruce’s heart. Nothing he said alout, though.

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

Damian was going to graduate from elementary school when it happened.

It was the first full blown charity ball you held for your “Jason Todd school foundation”, and...You had no illusion.

If people came to your little event it was because Bruce Wayne was here too.

It had been, nonetheless, a rather pleasant evening. You caught up with Dick, Tim and Cass (and was painfully reminded of Jason’s absence), and what they were doing currently. Tim and Cass were still in high school, and Dick had recently decided to join the police school. Didn’t surprise you much.

Yes. It was a rather pleasant evening.

Except for the fact your heart kept getting stabbed over and over again every time you saw Bruce with his date, a Russian model that was probably one of the most beautiful woman you ever saw.

How could you compete against that ? ...Not that you’d want to compete.

You do your best to avoid them all night long, even though you see him look for you, trying over and over again to come and talk to you.

You just can’t do it. You can’t look at him in the eyes while he has such a gorgeous woman at his arm. And so, not very discreetly, you avoid him like the plague, always finding a way to put people between you and him, or escaping to the ladies’ bathrooms.

Until she corners you.

You were fairly certain she noticed Bruce wanting to talk to you, and had gotten jealous that he therefor paid less attention to her. Oh but if only she knew you and Bruce were just friends...

She’s able to finally talk to you as he went to get some drinks, and before even saying hello or anything, she asks, with a clearly exaggeratted Russian accent (you heard her talk with a barely noticeable accent before) :

“You’re the one who throw all this right ? Good party. Are you alone tonight though ? I thought it was custom for people who organized this kind of things to be accompanied.”

She says, with an infuriating fake smile. And that’s the moment Bruce choses to come back, so you can’t even be snarky or anything. You don’t want Bruce to think anything bad about you, so you say :

“Well, I’m here for the children. So no, I didn’t bring a date. I was too busy trying to appeal to people to invest in our new educative programs.”

The Russian model looks you up and down and say, the condescendence clear in her voice :

“Oh, is that why you’re alone ?”

And here we go, yet another knife in the heart. Reminding you that beyond those impossible feelings you have for Bruce, you also take every hours of your day and use it towards your “educative cause”, virtually having no real social life. And wow. Outch. “Alone”. Touché.

You don’t see Bruce frowning at his “date”, and you awkwardly smile before slipping away, finding an excuse to do so.

“(Y/N) wait I wanted to...”

You hear him say something, but you already jumped in the middle of a bunch of people and joined their conversation, effectively blocking Bruce’s way to you.

You really, really didn’t want to talk to him, even more so if that woman was at his arm.

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

The night comes to an end, and you’re utterly satisfied of it.

You managed (thanks to Bruce mainly), to find founding for all your projects, and had a nice nights full of passionate talk about education and such.

You had the opportunity to hang out with ex-students of yours, that made great things of themselves. Not just Dick, Tim, Cass and Damian. It was kind of a given, they’d do great, mainly because of their father’s fortune (although those kids were geniuses). But kids from the worst neighborhood in Gotham that benefited from all your actions.

You felt very proud, and shed many tears. More than once, you thought about Jason, and how you dedicated all this success to him. How you wished this would lead Gotham on a more peaceful path, and things like what happened to Jason would never happen again.

The wound of his loss was still fresh, and as the evening was coming to an end, and people leaving, you took a little break and went out on the balcony to take a breath of fresh air.

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

It was only ten minutes into your isolating time that he finally found you.

And you were beautiful, there, your elbows on the bannister, looking out at the night lights of Gotham City.

“Great night, huh ?”

You jump a bit in the air, surprised, and turn to him.

No Russian model around, coast clear ?

“Yeah. Yeah it was good. We have enough fundings to rebuild a hundred schools haha. Just with your donation, we could’ve achieved all our project. Thank you, Bruce.”

“Well, it’s for a good cause.”

“Still, many do not think or care about it.”

“You know I agree with you about the importance of good education..”

Yes. Yes you know. You’ve had many passionate conversations about the future of Gotham, and what you wished it would become.

Both of you had the same ideas and ideals. Both of you wanted to see Gotham thriving and peaceful. With happy inhabitants that wouldn’t be afraid anymore.

The Batman helped a lot, for sure, but it was to the people to do the rest. By making the environment everyone was growing in a better place.

And it started...With schools.

Yes. Bruce always agreed with your point of view, and was the first to believe in you.

“You did great, you know. None of this projects would exist without you.”

“I just...gave people ideas. Nothing too big.”

“Nothing too big ? (Y/N), you singlehandedly change Gotham’s entire educative field, making every schools better.”

“Well, I didn’t do it alone.”

You turn to him, and smile.

Sure, maybe you initiated a lot of things. Maybe it’s your own experience and such that molded the entire charity and such. But without Bruce Wayne ? And his wonderful kids ? You’re not sure you would’ve gone too far.

Dick is the one that gave you the self-confidence you needed by having to be strong to help him out, Jason was the one who pushed you to finally take a step forward, Tim and his novel ideas always made you want to improve, Cass and her will to fight and learn inspired you greatly in inventing new methods to help out kids with specific needs, and Damian showed you everyone could change for the better, no matter what.

Wether you liked it or not, the Waynes really had a huge impact on your life.

And as you turned to Bruce, somehow, you saw he was thinking something similar...In his eyes, you could see how grateful he was, and how much you changed and helped his kids.

He smiles.

You smile.

Neither of you want to add anything. Everything goes through your eyes.

Thanksfullness. Gratefulness. Pride. Contentment.

It’s interesting, how for so many years, your fate and theirs was linked, in more ways than you could imagine.

To the point that now, Bruce couldn’t imagine a life without you, and vice versa.

You really were, great friends...

The word hurts, and you look away, unable to hold his gaze.

Friends.

His calloused fingers brush your cheek, you you’re so surprised you turn back to him and...No. No he can’t. You can’t.

You know this look.

And if you’re being honest with yourself, you’ve known for a while.

Which is why you were frustrated with him bringing dates everywhere, him still being kind of a playboy (even though his kids gave him an excuse to tame it down). Frustrated with those feelings too because...

Because both of you knew you shared it.

Both of you knew...Probably since a long time.

Not that you nor him would ever act upon it, because then, it could change everything, and in a very bad way.

Plus, you can’t date a student’s parent. You have a very strict ethic.

And he can’t bring you into his world.

Frustration.

You both know.

But you’ll never do anything about it.

And then...

...

He kisses you.

He kisses you and it’s like those past twelve years of pining for him suddenly fly away. Like you’re 23 again, fresh out of college, about to teach your first class ever, and you see him. About your age. And he has a ward...A son.

You talk for a few minutes, you fight, you apologize, it clicks. And then he leaves, and for a year, you help his son grow. After that, you don’t see him for a while...Until he comes back, with another adoptive son.

Jason. And then Tim. Cassandra. Finally, now, Damian.

All those years walking a parallel line to his, acting as if his kids aren’t your favorite in your class (because “you don’t play favorite, that’d go against my entire work ethic !”). Acting as if you don’t make up a lot of parent/teachers conferences just to see him (because you didn’t really need that much...). Acting as if it didn’t hurt you the most when his kids moved on, and you stopped seeing them...and him.

He kisses you and it’s like you’re 23 again. Acting right away on your feelings. Not being afraid.

Afraid of what ?

He’s one of your student’s father. It’s not ethical. He’s also rich and handsome, so out of your league. And it’s unrationnal, you don’t see him that often.

Afraid of what ?

Rejection. Loneliness. Knowing exactly what you want but never doing anything to achieve it. Regrets. ...

12 years vanish, as he kisses you.

You’re 23 again, and...and...And you can’t do this !

He’s one of your student’s parent ! He’s THE Bruce Wayne !

The sudden bliss you felt as his lips met yours vanishes too, and it’s like a cold bucket of water dumped on your head as you realize...

You can’t do this.

Now, or 12 years ago, it’s the same situation.

You can’t do this.

And so you softly pushes him away...

“I-I...”

It’s more difficult than you think, to say those words. He looks at you curiously, a fiery passion still lingering in his eyes.

“I can’t.”

You say, and the only thing you can do now, is run. Run as fast as you can.

“Fly you fools”, are the words that come to your mind. You have to leave, far, far away. And now, you have to stop talking to you.

Because this all thing is unethical.

You can’t date one of your student’s parent ! Even though none of them are your student anymore...

And Bruce Wayne is so out of your League ! Even though he’s the one who kissed you first...

And this could change everything, after all, he became your best friend, this could ruin everything ! Even though whenever you saw each others with someone else you felt like dying...

And he’ll surely reject you, you’re just you, a simple elementary teacher, and he’s him, THE bruce Wayne ! Even though he always looked at you as if you were much more than a “simple elementary school teacher”.

And...

“Why ?”

He asks. Why ? Why ? Why ? Why can’t you ?

Because of all the reasons you keep listing in your head. Student’s dad. Rejection. Out of league. Too much. Not enough. Regrets. Friendship.

Because...because...Why ?

He knows. Of course he does.

He knows you love him.

And deep down, amongst all the insecurities and fear...You know he loves you.

So, why ?

You can’t escape this. He knows. You know. You both knew for a while, without ever acting upon it. Why ?

Fears.

Stupid ones.

Why ?

As if a divine force was bringing you back to him, you get close to his body again, without even noticing yours moving.

Why not ?

When you think about it, all those years, it’s as if destiny lead you to each others. Bruce Wayne’s children should’ve never end up in a second rate school in a shitty neighborhood...And yet they all did.

An elementary school teacher really was supposed to have such a huge impact on “her” kids ? Well, you did.

Two parallel lines. Always going in the same direction, but never quite meeting.

Until a fateful accidental conjoncture.

Like a good night representing everything you believe in.

Like tonight.

So, why ?

“I can’t.”

You repeat, but you don’t even believe it yourself.

“Why ?”

“Because...Because...”

You can’t remember the reasons anymore. Was it even ever wrong ?

He leaves you time, makes sure you want this. He takes a step back on the balcony, away from the remnant of people.

You follow after him.

Why ?

Because you love him.

And he catches you in his arms...Why ?

Because he loves you.

12 years in the making.

Of obvious signs ignored...Why ?

You don’t even remember anymore. And it doesn’t matter.

Why ?

Because he’s kissing you again.

Now that he’s sure. Now that you’re not running away for...reasons you can’t recall. Now that he’s sure. Now that you’re sure.

It seems silly, that you lost so many years...But then again, it’s only now that you’re finally ready.

Why ?

Because as you both reflected on what you accomplished, and what the other’s place was in your life, you both came to a logic realization :

You were in love.

And so you kiss him back, and it’s like you’re 23 again.

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

“AH ! Finally !”

Tim exclaims, as he points to his father kissing his favorite teacher ever, Miss (Y/L/N)...No, (Y/N). And although he feels rather content that this is happening, he finds it disgusting.

“Oh geez they’re really going at it...”

Damian makes a face, because he also thinks the kiss is gross. However, in his heart, and not about to say it out loud just yet, he was very happy for his father. And for himself, really.

Cass, a smirk on her face, simply said :

“Called it.”

But then Dick, throwing an arm around her shoulder, adds :

“Oh no little sister. No no no. Eight years old me shall forever remain known as the one that “called it” first ! Hahahaha.”

And indeed, it’s only, over twelve years ago now, when little Dick asked if you could be his dad’s girlfriend, that you allowed your feelings to truly burgeoned.

Because as long as his kids were ok with you two being an item, really, who cared about anything else ?

_________________________________________________

WELL !! Here we are. I hope you liked it. Thanks very much for reading, and see you soon with a new story :). Hoping this one wasn’t too bad...

As usual, feedbacks, or comments about what you think of the story in general (good or bad, by the way. But please don’t be just mean, if you did not like something try to say why ? We usually all know why we don’t like a thing, so please if you think of something negatively, try to explain why you did not like it so I can improve next time and not just feel like shit ? Saying something is “bad” and that is it is counterproductive, rude and not very nice...There’s always a way to say things :) ) and reblogs and all are very VERY welcomed.

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kitkat1003 · 4 years ago

Text

For the Love of, and Full of Hope

Wakko isn’t book smart, or social smart, not by any means, but even he isn’t dumb enough not to know that his family is worn thin. Threadbare and dying. They need more.

So he goes to get it.

Or: A 12 year old spends a year getting a single hay penny. Wonder what happened there.

Warnings: Death, Violence

Edit: this is part of a series, here is the Ao3 link

@asilcorner here

The decision to leave isn’t an easy one, and he can tell Yakko wants to argue. Of anyone in their family, Yakko is the one least likely to mention a want, but Wakko can tell that there’s one on the tip of his tongue.

I don’t want you to go.

If Yakko said that, Wakko would stay, because Yakko works so hard, Yakko deserves his wants. But Wakko knows, and Yakko knows, that they both want Dot to be alive far more than Yakko doesn’t want him to leave. So he thanks the world that train fare is practically free and buys himself a ticket.

“Why do you have to go?” Dot asks, the night before he leaves. He’s resting right next to her, and her voice sounds hoarse. Tight. Weak. The reason he’s going, to make her better, cements in further.

“We need money,” He tells her, honest. “Besides, the ticket’s already paid for. It’d be a shame to waste it now,” he shrugs, smiling despite the ever present ache, from starvation and exhaustion and the chill.

“I wish I could go with you,” She whispers, and he sighs.

“I wish you could too,” Because if she could, he wouldn’t need to leave in the first place.

The next day is joyously morose affair. He leaves with the hopes of everyone on his shoulders. Yakko hugs him tight, and Wakko can feel Yakko’s hands tremble against Wakko’s back, balled up in fistfuls of his sweater.

“Stay safe,” It’s phrased more like a plead than a simple farewell, and Wakko would like to be able to make promises, but...

“I’ll try,” he says, and he means it.

“See you in a year, sis,” He ruffles Dot’s hair, and she smacks at his hands, but she’s smiling.

“Not a day late or early,” She orders, and he grins.

“You got it.”

And the train departs, and Wakko sits all by himself as the place he knew as his home for all his life gets smaller and smaller as he gets farther and farther away.

He lets himself cry when it disappears, because he’s young, and alone, and afraid. But he has to do this. He has to try. Dot and Yakko need him.

It’s not hard to fall asleep. Compared to the abandoned orphanage they live in, the train seats are far more comfortable.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He wakes up a town over, and the train offers hot food, but he declines. He doesn’t have the money for it, even though his stomach screams for food. He nibbles on the jerky Yakko bought for him before he left. Wakko knows just how long he can not eat for before his body rebels against him-earlier than most people. Yakko says he has what one would call a ‘Chronic illness.’ All Wakko knows is that it makes him more of a deadweight for Yakko to carry, because despite Yakko trying to be slick, he could see at home that his older brother was giving him bigger servings while Yakko got less.

Hopefully, now that Wakko is gone, Yakko can actually eat like a normal person. With how Yakko is, though, Wakko expects he’ll take that extra food and give it all to Dot.

People come off and on the train at every random stop, but Wakko’s ticket is for a long ways away. Five towns over. He’s heard stories there, about how there are always jobs open. He’s going to do them all. He’ll work himself down to the bone, and come back with a fortune, and Dot will get better and everyone will be happy.

Days pass. He gets up, on occasion, to stretch his legs, because the last thing he needs are his muscles atrophying because he couldn’t be bothered to move. He loses his seat once or twice, but he is very adept at annoying people into moving, so he never loses it for long. He makes the piece of jerky last, so that even on the last night before he gets off of the train he still has a quarter of a piece left. It’s easy to not be hungry when you don’t move much. That must be why Dot hardly has an appetite.

He’s asleep when he reaches his destination, practically thrown from the train by a conductor who holds no pity for a half starved child. This town is prosperous, due to it’s industrious mining community. He can see the ‘Help Wanted’ signs plastered on certain storefronts, and tries to figure out what to do.

Yakko had told him that under no circumstances was he to even think about going into the mines. The mines are where people go to die, and Yakko told him it was better if Wakko came home empty handed than not at all.

They’d had the conversation far away from the house, where Dot couldn’t hear. She was already near bedridden most days, looking half dead. She didn’t need to hear about how dire things were, when part of the reason things were that is because she was so sick. It isn’t her fault, but she wouldn’t see it that way.

He tries first, at the bakery. He’s young, spry, and wiling to do whatever they need him to. He’s made to be the janitor, because he doesn’t know how to bake and they don’t need anyone to learn. When things go in the oven, he clears the work space, sweeps the floor of the spilt flour, wipes down trays, cleans dishes. It’s not easy work, but Wakko would like to say he works well.

He does not, in fact, work well.

It was probably a bad choice to pick a place filled with food for his first job when he’s been half starved for most of his life, but it seemed a good option at the time. He can’t help but try and sample some of the goods, so hungry it hurts, and the owner of the bakery doesn’t have time for charity cases.

He gets caught on his third day, and after getting yelled at so loud that his hands shake and his ears ring, he’s unceremoniously thrown out, sliding across cobblestone so hard his skin scrapes and he’s glad that black fur doesn’t show off blood well. Three day’s pay is a pittance, but it’s enough to get him some food for the night. He sleeps outside, in an alley, by the dumpsters.

The next day he goes to the general store. It doesn’t sell food more so than it sells equipment. A lot of its sales comes from supplying the mining sector with its equipment, and the rest is from the random items the townspeople need.

Wakko is a stocker. It suits him fine. He’s always been almost abnormally strong for his age, and he works hard not to mess this up. It’s a nice routine, though his brain gets ever so slightly bored. He’s someone who craves unpredictability, who loves chaos. The doldrum does very little for him, mentally, but he shoves it down and keeps working. He takes a breath every moment even though the cold air makes his lungs wince and puts his personality on the shelf and works and works and works.

He manages well for about four months.

And then, one night, he gets cornered in an alley.

“Hey, kid,” There are three men surrounding him, tall and lean. Men is a strong word-they’re teenagers, older than Yakko but nowhere near and adult. “Heard you’re the new stocker at the general store,” Wakko has no idea why this guy cares, but he just nods, because it seems polite.

The response he receives is having his sweater be grabbed before he is slammed into the wall, head knocking against stone.

“You think you can step in on my job while I’m out of town? Huh?” He shakes Wakko, as if Wakko can reply when he’s still dazed from having his head knocked around. “I own that job. I can come and go as I please, and make money when I want. That’s how it works here.”

And Wakko hates that. Hates the cavalier that this teen holds, to be able to come and go as he pleases, to always have a job waiting for him. Has this guy ever had to wonder if his sibling was going to survive the night? Has he ever even gone hungry?

It’s the same entitlement Plotz has, and it brings out a fire Wakko didn’t know he had.

“It said help wanted,” he responds, shrugging nonchalantly. “Not my fault that you were gone.”

That is, apparently, the wrong thing to say. Wakko has never been good with his words, and that’s why Yakko always did the talking. He gets a fist to his jaw, dropping to the ground.

“What a smartmouth,” The leader sneers. “Why don’t we teach this kid a lesson?”

“Well, I’ve never been to school before,” Wakko wheezes, grinning like nothing’s wrong, and he gets a kick to his ribs for that.

He should really stop trying to be Yakko.

“Shut up,” One of the teens say, and he does.

It doesn’t stop them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When he goes to work the next day, he has a black eye he can’t see out of and a limp. Black fur doesn’t show off bruises, but he’s pretty sure one of his fingers is broken with how purple it is. He shows up to work anyway.

When he does, the owner looks over him appraisingly.

“I see you met the town boys,” He says. “The leader is the mayor’s son,” Wakko frowns-of course he is.

Wakko gets to work, but the owner follows him.

“I thought he was staying out of town for another week, figured I’d fire you then,” Wakko freezes, holding three boxes of pickaxes. “But I can’t have the mayor down my neck. Find somewhere else to work.”

And Wakko isn’t vindictive, not by any means, but he feels a little too good when he says “Okay,” and lets the pickaxes all drop to the floor, hearing the crash and running out before the owner can catch him.

From there, he goes through jobs like they’re candy. He trips at the candlemaker’s and nearly burns the whole place down. Tries the printing press, but he can’t really read well, so he can’t tell if there’s any errors, and makes too many mistakes. Works at a family farm, but one of the animals kicks him into the fence and the family says that it’s a sign that this isn’t his place to work.

No wonder this town has so many help wanted signs , if these are the guys hiring.

His favorite job of the bunch is the inn, because they let him sleep in a spare room so long as he cleans it before he goes to work, and it doesn’t count towards his paycheck. However, the mayor’s kid comes in one day, sees him, says something to the owner, and Wakko is back on the streets again.

He wants to break down and cry and go home. He’s trying so hard, he’s doing what he’s supposed to. It’s been eight months and he never has more than enough to buy dinner because he can’t save when he’s losing jobs a couple months in.

He needs something stable. Something no one would fire him from.

He looks toward the mines.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He remembers the promise he made to Yakko, to not work there. Knows he shouldn’t. But he’s out of jobs, and he’s out of options.

He promised, but Yakko’s broken promises too. When Dot first got sick, Wakko was nearly in tears with worry. That’s his little sister, why can’t she play? Why does she keep coughing? What’s wrong with her?

“It’s just a cold,” Yakko had said. “She’ll get better soon. Promise.”

But she hadn’t, and that’s why he’s here, so if Yakko can lie to make Wakko feel better than Wakko can break a promise too, to make sure that when he comes home he’ll have something to give. Because, as much as it would break Yakko’s heart if Wakko never came back, Wakko would rather that happen then come back with nothing and watch Dot wither away.

He goes to the mines, and puts on a hard hat, and gets to work.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The mines are a grueling place, and Wakko understands very quickly why Yakko never wanted him to work in such an environment. Half of the time he has to stop and cough, because every breath is coal ash in his lungs, every time he moves he feels like he’s going to drop dead. Lunch time is fifteen minutes and he doesn’t have anywhere to prepare a lunch so typically he buys some salted meats or preserved vegetables the night before and sticks it in his sweater pocket so he doesn’t starve to death. He supposes the upside to having been poor all your life is that you’re good at eating quickly.

You never know when the food you have could be taken away.

They get coal, and then they lug it to the minecarts to be taken out of the mine. Rinse and repeat. He doesn’t even have time to be zany when he’s so exhausted, so he’s just as dead eyed as the rest of the toons and men around him.

Every once in a while, there will be a rumble from above, and the whole cave will shake, and they will all freeze and hold their breath, because one wrong move could mean collapse.

One of the older men asks him, one day, “Why are you here, son?” in the soft, kind way that brings back a far faded memory, more a feeling, of a warm crackling fire, and someone large and familiar holding him, of feeling safe and full.

“I need the money,” he responds, and the older man’s eyes go soft and sympathetic.

“Don’t we all, son,” He tells him, patting him on the shoulder, and Wakko half smiles, because kindness is rare like gold and he’s dreaming of diamonds. “Don’t we all.”

Three months in, and he’s gotten the hang of it. Nearly made three hay pennies, because the older man, who asks him to just call him Sir, tells him about the safer tunnels, directs him to the areas least likely to collapse. He takes Wakko under his wing, and if he finds something exemplary, he lets Wakko take the credit for it.

Sir is here because he sends the money back home to his grandkids. His daughter’s husband ran out on them, and she’s getting ill from the stress and work.

“Don’t have much left in this world,” He says, heaving the pickaxe down against stone. He teaches Wakko how to hit it just right, and Wakko copies his movements and wonders if this is what it’s like to have a father who is more than a few years older than you. “But I ain’t losing them.”

“Yeah,” Wakko agrees, thinking of the small shack that is his home, five towns away, with the two people there that are his entire world, that he’s spending his days suffering and working for.

It’s nice, though, to have company. Sir listens to Wakko’s crazy antics, claps when Wakko has the energy to sing him a song during lunch, and says “you remind me of my grandkids” one day, and Wakko doesn’t want to admit how happy that makes him.

Four months in, and Wakko is venturing into an older tunnel, with a bunch of experienced miners. That’s the only reason Sir says that Wakko could come with, because he knows this is Wakko’s last month and a big pay off from a new mine would be really helpful.

They get to work, and an hour or so in the ever familiar, paralyzing rumble from above starts. Only this time, the floor starts to shake, and the ceiling cracks, and rocks start to fall from above as the whole mineshaft collapses. Wakko is jumping out of the way of debris, letting his pickaxe drop as he moves towards somewhere safe, so focused on the different falling pieces and the people running around him he misses the rock falling above him.

“Kid!” He hears Sir shout, and he’s slammed into by denim overalls and flesh and bone and hits the floor. There’s the sound of a crack, and then he feels, hears, sees nothing at all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wakko wakes up to the feeling of something on top of him, covered in dust and soot and something wet and sticky. He blinks out the dizziness and realizes the thing on top of him is someone, someone he recognizes.

“Sir?” he says, asks, hopes. Carefully, he crawls out from under the man, and looks around.

The cave is dark, and he hears groans from the other men, but he looks back at Sir, and shakes him. A slab of stone falls to the floor with a loud thud, from Sir’s back, and neck.

Something is dripping from Sir’s mouth. It looks suspiciously like blood, but Wakko won’t think it is, no.

“Sir?” he tries again, and he shakes him harder. The older man drops, limp, laying face first on the ground.

Wakko. Stares.

“Is that the kid?” One of the other men says.

“Sounds like it. The old man must have got on top of him to save him from the rocks.”

“Poor guy,” The first one says. “Hey, kid, c’mere,” Wakko stands, on trembling legs, and walks toward the sound of the voices.

A hand rests on his shoulder, and he flinches, and the hand disappears.

“Hey, it’s just me, kid,” He hears. “The old man told us about you. There’s been a cave in,” As if that wasn’t obvious. “We’re seasoned, so they’ll look for us. They don’t always for the newer guys.”

“Okay,” Wakko says, instead of anything else, because he can feel the wet and sticky on his cheek and it isn’t his blood, and he can’t turn around because if he does he’ll be facing it.

He can’t. He just can’t

A hand leads him to a spot to sit, and Wakko does.

Time slips through his fingertips, and all Wakko can do is wait and breathe.

They consider making a fire, but it would waste their oxygen. The find a miraculously non broken flashlight, and Wakko can finally see. The cave is about half the size it was before it collapsed. There’s a pile of rocks at the entrance, and some of the men take their pickaxes and try to hit it, but it makes the walls shake so they stop. Wakko walks around the room, and stays away from one area.

He misses Sir.

A day passes. He nibbles on the old, near moldy piece of jerky he has, offering it to the other men. They rebuff him.

“You look like skin and bones, kid,” One of the guys says. “This isn’t our first cave in,” Wakko wonders when he became their kid, but he supposes it could be worse.

It’s two days and they’re running out of air. Wakko wheezes in thin, shallow breaths through chapped lips, and tries not to cry because he’s dehydrated enough. He doesn’t want to die. He has Dot and Yakko to go home to, he can’t leave them now.

Eventually, he just starts humming, because the silence hurts and he doesn’t want to think anymore. Isn’t this whole movie supposed to be a musical? Maybe it hasn’t started yet.

“There's always tomorrow,” It comes out wispy and small, like a a breath, but it sounds unbearably loud, in the small space, “For dreams to come true. Believe in your dreams, come what may,” His voice cracks on the final word, and he coughs, but the men are all staring at him, a tiny shrimp of a kid way in over his head, singing because there’s nothing else he can think to do.

“There's always tomorrow,” He mumbles out the words, barely keeping up the tune, because he’s so tired. “With so much to do,”

“And so little time in a day,” One of the men finishes the line with him, and Wakko blinks.

It seems that one joining in spurs on the others, because one by one they’re all singing too.

“We all pretend the rainbow has an end,” Wakko sees some of the miners leaning on each other. A couple of them have broken a bone of some sort, but that’s all forgotten in the ever thinning air, singing because what else is there to do, in times of despair.

“And you’ll be there, my friend, some day,” Wakko’s eyes flick to Sir, the still body looking pale and the blood dried on the ground, and he forces himself not to cry again.

“There’s always tomorrow, for dreams to come true,” Wakko leans his head back against the stone, coughing a little. There’s thudding in his ears, he thinks his heartbeat, growing ever louder.

“Tomorrow is not far away...,” They trail off, and then there’s a crack, from the wall behind him. He jumps, stumbling back from the wall, and he can see light peeking through the rock wall.

Standing was a bad idea. His legs shake, weak, and while he can see the light as he hears men from the other side calling for him there’s darkness at the edges of his vision, and before the the wall breaks he starts to fall and everything goes black to the sound of the men shouting for someone to catch him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He wakes up at the local hospital. The mine is paying for the stay, so he gets to eat. He’s given 10 hay pennies for his trouble-the three he’d already made were lost in the collapse, but he doesn’t care too much because he lost far more important things there, too-, with the incentive not to take legal action against the mining company. As if he could. He asks around, asks if Sir’s family will be getting anything.

“Likely not,” One of the men from the cave says. “He didn’t have enough tenure for that, and his family lives far enough away and are poor enough that the mine won’t bother.”

“Do you know where he lives?” He asks, and he finds out.

He places 9 hay pennies into the envelope. He is not good at writing, but he knows how to write ‘I’m sorry,’ and ‘he was a good man’, and ‘he protected me’, and the sentences hardly make sense with how his hands shake but that doesn’t matter. He has one of the older men write out the address and sends it off.

It’s not enough, he thinks. But it’s something.

He tries to go back to work for a little more money, but every time he looks into the yawning pit of the entrance to the mines he can’t breathe and he thinks of the sticky and wet and red that stained his fur until he washed it off two days later.

He knows how to get it out of his clothes, too. Now. He knows now.

He didn’t think he would ever need to know, but the past year has been full of learning experiences, he’s sure.

A week and a half later, he walks out of town to that same train, and like the end of a circle heads back to where he started, sitting on that same seat. The taste of jerky as he chews makes him want to vomit, too familiar, too entrenched in memory to be anything other than unpleasant.

He comes home, and when he arrives he sees the smiling faces of his family and town, and they don’t need the depressing tale of cruelty and hardship, so he smiles and dances on aching feet and sings about silly jobs that seem more fun than difficult and shows off his earnings and lets himself feel hope because even if it hurt it was enough, because Dot is going to be happy and healthy.

Later, when he is playing a mournful tune on a makeshift harp, he wonders if there was even a point to trying. If he should have stayed, should have just taken his time with his sister before she was gone, because regardless of everything that happened he’s right where he started. Except, someone is dead and he’s the reason, and his lungs ache and will spend months to get close to normal and he has to pretend because he can’t let Yakko know he lied, and he was beaten and his youth has been stolen and Dot is still dying anyway.

He’s tired of the cyclical, he needs change, and he looks up the stars and searches for something, anything, to make the hurt worth something.

The Wishing Star gives him a reply to his song, like beams of light through the rocks, like hope in the center of a blackhole of despair that refuses to be swallowed whole, and when Wakko makes the homestretch he asks for the people to get what they deserve, what is fair, what is right, and hopes the mother miles away with two kids and no father or grandfather gets something, too.

#animaniacs #wakko's wish #yakko wakko and dot #wakko warner #yakko warner #dot warner #kitkat1003 #Listen its medieval times do you think people were nice to kids #i will pepper in the fact that wakko nearly vaguely remembers their parents #i will create a side character and kill him off because I think it'd funny to be mean #haha

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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years ago

Text

The Long Way Around ~ Chapter 6

Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/623283543296049154/the-long-way-around-chapter-5

Pairing: Jasper x Reader

Word count: 1954

Warnings: None

Jasper’s POV

I sigh, trying to concentrate on the papers before me. Once Y/n came into our lives, I had decided to halt my studies at school. She arrived during the summer so it wasn’t like anyone would notice my sudden, and perhaps suspicious, disappearance from class, but my family agreed that we could really only afford for one or two of us to deviate from our cover story. So once classes resumed in the fall, all but I continued attendance at the local university. Once she found out, Y/n had lamented at my loss of education and insisted I continue studying at least something of interest. She didn’t seem to understand how little a year or two out of school would affect me, given how many times I’ve gone through both high school and varying post-graduate degrees. But still, the gesture was kind so I agreed and have sent spent a few hours every day since that conversation brushing up on my world history. Right now I’m camped in the basement where we keep our extensive library (excluding the volumes found in Carlisle’s office and our individual rooms) digging through first-hand accounts of Otto von Bismarck’s rise to influence. It’s interesting enough, but still, my attention is elsewhere. At least half of my focus is upstairs, carefully monitoring Y/n’s moods. She’s become much more even as time passes, but still, not keeping tabs on her makes me nervous. Newborns are so unpredictable and so reliant on their emotions that at any moment, she could react badly and cause herself or someone else harm. It’s not that I don’t trust her, it’s just that I know how this goes. And I would hate myself if anything happened to my family or Y/n, especially if I could have done something to prevent it.

She’s been struggling recently with missing her family and friends, and that’s always difficult. For most of us, we had been immediately taken away from our loved ones plus had been changed during a time when news recordings and social media didn’t exist. Y/n does not have that luxury. At least once a week, she’ll find some news source with reports from her parents or come across a social media page of one of her friends. It breaks her heart. Secretly, I had gone to Carlisle and discussed the benefits of moving. It only adds to Y/n’s pain being only a handful of miles from the people she loves, and perhaps moving away would aid in her healing. But Carlisle shot the idea down, citing our advantageous location and the dangers of moving cross-country with a volatile newborn. So, instead, I sought to distract her. One of the reasons she felt bad about stopping my schooling is because her own had been paused suddenly due to her untimely death. So, I loaned her a few of my old textbooks, which she has been studying relentlessly. Carlisle also offered his services, and it’s not uncommon to find Y/n perched in one of the chairs in his office grilling him about everything under the medical sun. All in all, she’s adjusting well. Still, I worry. At the drop of a dime, her control could slip or her emotions could get the best of her. That’s why, when I feel her switch from a relaxed, curious state to one of annoyance, I take notice, and listen.

“You really need to let your human life go, Y/n. At this point, you’re only dragging out your own pain. There’s nothing you can do about it anyway. That life is as lost to you as your soul.”

Now I feel annoyance at my brother’s predictable morose attitude. Even to this day, Edward grapples with losing humanity and, according to him, his soul, and often pushes those feelings onto others. As far as I can tell, Y/n doesn’t believe vampirism has damned her, and I would like to keep Edward from putting those thoughts in her head. They simply aren’t true.

Y/n responds with a biting tone. “They’re my loved ones, Edward, not yours. Please don’t tell me how to deal with losing them. If you don’t like my thoughts, stay out of my head.”

Rosalie chimes in, always interested in fighting with Edward. “Really, Edward, back off. You’re the one who helped Bella keep her precious humans in our life and risked our exposure, so you’ve no room to talk here.” It was the wrong thing to say. Y/n’s anger flares.

“Hypocrite! That is such a double standard!”

I feel Edward’s anger increase too, and I know they’re filling a keg with powder and readying their matches. I hurry upstairs.

“It’s different. Bella was going through a lot and-”

“And I’m not?” Y/n’s incredulity is plain.

Rosalie scoffs.“What precious Bella wants, she gets. The rest of us are expected to live by a different set of rules.”

“Okay guys, let’s take this down a notch.” Emmett intervenes as I get to the top of the stairs.

“I agree.”

Y/n’s eyes flicker to mine, and I register her guilt. Why?

Whatever’s in her mind causes Edward to scoff. “You’re not bothering him with your emotions, he lives for this stuff. It makes him feel like he has some kind of purpose.”

“You are so pessimistic,” Y/n groans, putting her head in her hands. “Whatever. I am not doing this anymore. I’m going for a walk. Jasper?”

Immediately, I’m at her side, not even needing to think about joining her. It’s just natural, at this point, to be with her.

She smiles tightly as we walk out the back door, and I can tell she’s trying to calm herself down. “Sorry I interrupted your studying.”

I shrug, honestly not bothered at all. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nice to get outside….The leaves are just starting to change.”

Now, her smile becomes much more natural. “Aren’t they gorgeous? It’s even better now that I can see them with these new eyes. And I can hear the crunch when I step on them and the smell of fall is just,” she sighs, a dreamy look in her eye. But then I feel the sadness creep back in.

I’m hesitant to ask, not wanting to upset her further. “Are you alright?”

She bites the inside of her cheek and looks away. When she finally speaks again, her voice is unsteady. “I just really, really miss my family. It’s hard to leave them and come to terms with…what I am. And of course I’m so grateful that I have all of you,—well,” she chuckles darkly, “today I could do without Edward but that’s beside the point.” She trails off, lost in her thoughts.

I look into the horizon, enjoying the light of the setting sun but regretting the added sadness she’s suffered on behalf of my brother. “I’m sorry he upset you. I can talk to him tomorrow-”

“Oh, that’s alright,” she waves a hand, smiling softly. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do with your siblings? Argue?”

I chuckle, nodding. We certainly do argue.

She turns to face me then, stopping her walking. “Thank you though.”

The sunlight filters through the trees, hitting our skin and illuminating us. She gasps softly, and I sense her wonderment. She’s seen what the sun does to our skin many times, but it never ceases to amaze her. It’s really sweet. Slowly, she reaches up and lightly trails her fingers over the side of my face where the sun hits. I freeze, not wanting to make any movement that would cause her to stop. I enjoy her touch much more than I would like to admit. It feels so nice to be handled so softly, compared to the harshness I’d become accustomed to in my past. I close my eyes.

“Beautiful,” she breathes, letting her hand fall.

I smile, enjoying this moment. “It is one of the more mesmerizing attributes of this life.”

Now, I feel her playfulness. “You know what else is great? The speed.”

My mood soon matches hers. “Wanna race?”

She frowns, turning in the direction of the house. “Oh, no I think we should-”

And then she’s off, laughing wildly. I shake my head, realizing I’ve just been tricked and, with a laugh of my own, take off at a sprint after her.

{***}

“Jasper,” she starts, sitting down on the rock next to me. “Where are all the other vampires?”

“All over, really, though most tend to avoid especially sunny cities.” I shake water from the river off my hands. A few seconds prior, I’d reached in to grab some pebbles to skip. “We’re the largest coven in the area. Anyone else around here is likely a loner or part of a nomad coven.”

She pauses, thinking. “Doesn’t anyone ever come to visit?”

“Very rarely, and Alice can sometimes give us some warning, though not always. But the nomads that visit usually leave very quickly. We don’t allow them to hunt in this area, as it could raise suspicion and cause problems for us. That tends to make extended stays unappealing.”

“Well, what about friends?”

I smirk. “Vampires don’t really have friends.”

This confuses her. “Then what are you and your family? You’re certainly not just acquaintances.”

I smile, thinking of the best way to explain the complicated relationships between vampires. “Let me rephrase: most vampires don’t have friends. Carlisle theorizes that, because we don’t drink human blood, we’re less animalistic, a little less reliant on our instincts. Instincts that, under normal circumstances, would keep us from forming bonds because other vampires generally pose a threat to getting a meal.” She nods, understanding. “Because we are slightly more, human, for a lack of a better word, we do enjoy friendships and closer relationships, like I have with my adopted siblings. Realistically, though, that’s not how it works at all. For normal vampires, the only type of close relationship they experience is between mates. Those relationships last forever though, so I guess it’s enough to satisfy the need for connection.”

Y/n raises her eyebrows, disbelieving. “You’re telling me immortal vampires are monogamous for life?”

I chuckle. “Apparently, once you find the right one it’s just natural. I’ve seen it happen, felt the feelings they feel. It’s intense.”

She considers this, but says nothing further. Until, “have you ever felt that way?”

Subconsciously, I study the scars on my hands. “I thought I did.”

“With Maria,” she guesses. Y/n knows most of my history, so it’s no surprise that she’s able to put the pieces together of my involvement with Maria. Strangely, I find myself wishing that I could say no, that I’ve never been with with anyone like that. Or, at least, that I’d never been involved with Maria like that.

“Have you,” I counter to distract from my sudden regret.

She shakes her head, a soft smile playing on her lips. “My human memories are fading by the day, but I’m pretty sure the answer is no. My twenty years of life were nothing to write home about.”

Now it’s my turn to smile, somewhat ruefully. “You’ve got millennia ahead of you. I’m sure at least something notable will occur.”

She chuckles, shrugging. “Perhaps. For now, I should just focus on making it through the rest of this year.”

“We’ll get you through it,” I answer, confident.

She hugs her knees into her chest, feeling peaceful. “I believe you.” Then, her playfulness returns. “But step one should be feeding me, because I’m starving.”

I chuckle, stand, and offer her a hand. She grabs it, allowing me to pull her up. “Lead the way.”

A/n Let me know what you thought of this chapter/the characters and if you would like to be added to the tag list! I hope you all have a good day/night <3

xx,

Bjr

Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/623476978292555776/the-long-way-around-chapter-7

Tag list: @puer-de-infinitate @charliestuff @hindustani-diaspora @one-thread-can-save-a-life @salsameter @enchantedcruelsummer @meashy-moo

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revolutionary-demosthenes · 4 years ago

Text

Louis de Manoël de Végobre (Pt. 1/2)

Essay 11

Louis de Manoël de Végobre. A friend (or more?) of John Laurens and Francis Kinloch, a lawyer, a scientist. I wanted to learn more about him after I reblogged that last quote, and found some interesting things so I figured I’d share them with you!

Keep in mind: I'm still doing research and finding new things about De Végobre... only it all has to be (google) translated because most of the writings on him are in French. So keep in mind the margin of translation errors while reading this. This first one will just talk about De Végobre’s life in general, and in the next one I’ll talk more about his sexuality and relationships.

Louis de Manoël de Végobre was born on November 12, 1752, to Charles de Manoel de Vegobre and Louise de Vignolles-de-La-Valette. I assume he was probably named after his mother. He had several siblings, but sadly (as with John Laurens) some of them died very young.

I was unable to find much more about his childhood, so fast forward to 1774.

De Végobre was a friend of the Chauvets, a family in Francis Kinloch and John Laurens’s social circle in Geneva in 1774. He taught Laurens math, and they became good friends. After Laurens left for England, De Végobre kept up a correspondence with him... one that was obviously not completely reciprocated, as this is what Végobre said in the beginning of a letter to John Laurens on February 18, 1775:

“Sir,

There is the second; shall a third be? I dont know, but you know. When I have wrote [&] sent an epistle, I am always imagining the history of it; I long to see it [illegible], arriving, read, and answered; I Keep in my memory its date, I calculate the time of its arrival, and I impatiently expect the time of receiving an answer. This longed for answer arrives at length; then I am contented, and beginning another letter I prepare myself for enjoying still such a pleasure. But—if no answer… What must I think? I am concerned, sometimes a little angry. How does my friend do? Is he sick, absent, or idle in answering? Suspense is a hard thing.

I have wrote to you on the 24th of December, you have not yet answered. If you are guilty of negligence, pray do not aggravate your fault by a longer delay. Fault, I say; indeed I think it to be a fault to let pass over a great time without answering the letter of one who deserved answer. There is the end of my chiding, and I hope my thanks will soon began: I mean, that my second stroke shall get me an answer. Indeed, I would be sorry if your continued silence would hinder me from setting pen to paper a third letter.”

“Suspense is a hard thing.” Pull those heartstrings, Louis!

“I would be sorry if your continued silence would hinder me from setting pen to paper for a third letter.” This is so hilarious and sarcastic. Like, “I would be so sorry, John, if I didn’t write you again because you DON’T EVER WRITE BACK... that would be really sad, John.”

At the end of this same letter, De Végobre also mentions, “Kinloch will not write to you, as he says, being a little angry with you because you dont answer his letter…” So basically, it seems these three were very close in Geneva, but Laurens didn’t write to Kinloch and De Végobre nearly as much as they wanted. And they let him know this was the case. Some possible explanations for this:

Laurens was busy. Studying law.

Laurens being jealous and it being painful for him to remember Geneva and his friends there. This one is more speculative, but since Laurens didn’t want to leave Geneva, and seemed very happy there, it’s possible that the letters Kinloch and De Végobre sent made Laurens feel jealous that he wasn't in Geneva with them.

Maybe Laurens was just “idle in answering.” This was not unusual for him.

Anyway. For age reference here, in 1776 De Végobre would’ve been around 24, and Kinloch 21.

De Végobre finished learning law around this time, and became a lawyer.

After Laurens left for London, a young man (aged 18) came to Geneva, and his name was Gabriel Manigault. He and Végobre became friends, and according to Evolution of a Federalist, William Loughton Smith of Charlestown (1758-1812) by George C. Rogers, jr:

“De Vegobre in a letter of June 7, 1776, after thanking Laurens for ‘the pretty Swift,’ told of being charmed with Manigault, whom he taught geometry and who taught him French and English belles-lettres. They often walked together and on Saturday evenings would visit Kinloch, who lived one league in the country and there they might stay until Sunday or even Monday."

In some ways it seems here that Gabriel replaced Laurens. He was a new student of De Végobre’s, who also was teaching De Végobre English, something Laurens did as well. De Végobre wrote Laurens on Dec. 24 1774, “For (putting aside all friendship) you have been my first teacher in English tongue, at every progress I made in this language, at every delight (and many are) I always remember that I am obliged to you for that...”

Gabriel was also a friend of Kinloch’s, it appears, since he and De Végobre were apparently staying multiple days with him regularly.

However, the trail on De Végobre runs pretty cold after 1776. He eventually came back to Geneva in 1784. According to the book La France protestante: ou, Vies des protestants français qui se sont fait un nom dans l'histoire depuis les premiers temps de la réformation jusqu'à la reconnaissance du principe de la liberté des cultes par l'Assemblée nationale; ouvrage précéde d'une notice historique sur le protestantisme en France, suivi de pièces justificatives, et rédigé sur des documents en grand partie inédits, Volumes 7-8 by Eugene and Émile Haag*, “[De Végobre] was appointed secretary of the first appellations then lord of the commands of Peney and Champagne; but political events stripped him both of his place and his fortune.”

There’s also a possible letter from him to Laurens from 1781, but I think it’s in a private archive.

De Végobre left Geneva for unclear reasons. (La France Protestante Vol. 7-8 by Eugene and Emile Haag simply says “Domestic affairs, then political circumstances kept him away from Geneva for several years, where he did not return until 1784.”) The political circumstances, however, may have been the Genevan Revolution.

“In 1814 Geneva having recovered its independence, de Végobre became a member of the Representative Council, where he sat until 1833 and where he displayed great activity. In 1815 he was appointed judge of the Supreme Court, and he held the office until in 1826, when, believing that his strength was declining, he resigned.” (from La France Protestante, Vol. 7-8 by Eugene and Émile Haag.)

De Végobre was interested in science, particularly physics. He was knowledgable enough that he even filled in for a sick science professor Marc-Auguste Pictet once!

De Végobre did not have many published works. There’s one called Discours pour servir d'introduction à un ouvrage posthume de François-André Naville, ci-devant conseiller d'Etat de la République de Genève, and another titled Sur le jury dans les procès criminels.

As for De Végobre’s personality, he seems to have been a pretty affectionate friend and generous as well. A man who knew De Végobre said that it was “by his amiable and serene character that he shone; neither sad trials, nor the age which often makes selfish and morose, did not alter in him this benevolence, this warmth of heart which made him so precious to his friends.”**

De Végobre never married. Again quoting La France Protestante, Vol 7-8 by Eugene and Émile Haag, “He [De Végobre] lived with his sister Anne Charlotte, who died Sept. 28, 1840 [...] This young lady also left fond memories. Although her fortune was small, her charity was inexhaustible. She was one of the founders of the Asile des orphelines de Genève, an establishment which until its last day was the object of her constant care.”

The “founding an orphanage” draws some Eliza Hamilton parallels.

Louis de Manoël de Végobre died in 1840, at around 88 years old.

*all the quotes from this book were google translated from French, and because of the long title, in the rest of this post I just refer to this book as “La France Protestante, Vol. 7-8.”

**google translated from French

#essay #Louis Manoel de vegobre #Francis Kinloch #John Laurens #quotes #books #Geneva good times #frev #geneva #Charles Manoel de vegobre #anne charlotte vegobre #eliza hamilton #Louis de Manoel de Végobre #la france protestante #was very helpful #it was the only place I actually found a real biography instead of vague mentions

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927roses-and-stuff · 4 years ago

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Miracles in Gotham Chapter 5: Tales of the Misguided Serpent

I really am sorry it's taking more than five chapters for them to actually get to Gotham, by the way. I know most fics will usually have them there by the first chapter. I just like having a lot of build up for the plot and future subplots, so please bear with me!TW: Explicit minor character death and violence in war. Mentions of PTSD, depression, anxiety, and self-harm.

Hey guys! Thank you so much for reading this story and (hopefully) enjoying it so far! I realize I don’t say it enough, but I truly appreciate everyone who took the time to read this fic, and knowing that there are people who enjoy it are part of my inspiration to write more. As always, an extra thank you to @ozmav for the AU, and @mystery-5-5 for helping me through the writing process (and dealing with my rants).

There will be mentions and allusions to real life events and locations associated with World War II. I don’t mean any disrespect, and any character mentioned and associated within the story is purely fictional. This is not meant to be an accurate depiction of WWII or war in general, nor is it meant to be a mockery of what actually happened. There will also be brief mentions of PTSD, depression, and anxiety symptoms and self-harm. These are all based on research from sources that my therapist has given me (i.e. Centre for Clinical Interventions) and my own personal experiences.

Lastly, Alfred is in his mid-teens here (because he would fake his age to get into the army) and he isn’t the all wise and knowing Alfred Pennyworth we know and love just yet. And we all know how Master Fu loves giving Miraculous to unqualified, unprepared owners XD.

P.S. Not me making Sass oblivious to human stuff because I don’t know a lot of war stuff.

If you want to see more, follow: #miraclesingotham or ask to be added to the tag list.

Tag list: : @northernbluetongue @zerotosiki @spicybelladonna @my-name-is-michell @legendaryneckjudgestudent @lokiifriggasonn

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“Tell me everything you know about this Alfred Pennyworth and your time with him, Sass. I need to know if he can help before considering everything.”

The snake kwami merely nodded. “Of course, my Guardian.”

“Alfred Pennyworth was one of the best snakelets I have ever known, even if in the end, he did not believe so. If given the time, perhaps, he could have mastered the Snake Miraculous in all of its power, despite his young age. I think he would’ve been only a year or two older than yourself...”

August 1943, Northwest Europe

“Alfred Pennyworth, I am Sass, kwami of the Snake Miraculous, of Intuition. I will grant you the powers of Second Chance, so long as you promise to use your powers for good.”

The snake kwami held out his hands gracefully as he finished introducing himself to his new owner. The current Guardian had told him of his duties before he was handed to the young man in front of him. In times of war, a little intuition could go a long way.

As Alfred continued to remain unresponsive, Sass began to worry. Alfred Pennyworth was a young man with sharp eyebrows and dark, piercing eyes dressed in a camouflage dark-green military uniform complete with the green beret covering his scalp . Sass noticed the tiny tremors of his shoulders and his tightly pressed lips, although it would be unnoticeable to the untrained eye. They were in a dimly lit room, although it was strangely quiet for times of war, as the Guardian had relayed to him.

It had been perhaps the strangest experience that Sass had encountered with a human, although he didn’t have that many to rely on. The young man continued to stare at Sass, and in all his infinite patience, Sass floated in place, and entered a meditative pose above the box he had just come out of. From the little he knew of humans, they were often slow, narrow-minded creatures who needed more patience than most kwamis were willing to give.

However, despite the strangeness of it all, Sass felt a warm kinship with the still man in front of him.

Sass was unsure of how long it had taken for Alfred to be shaken out of his stupor, but he soon closed the box carefully and addressed him.

“Hello. You’re the friend Mr. Fu told me of?” He asked hesitantly.

“Yesss,” Sass nodded. “Master Fu is the current Guardian of the Miraculous. You must be someone special for him to entrust you with me, and me with you.”

Alfred nodded slightly. “Yes, he mentioned that you would help me in my times of need.”

“That is correct.”

Sass watched as the young man bit his lip in thought and lightly traced over the marks on the box. “Sass, was it?”

“Yesss.”

“...I am Alfred Pennyworth.”

“I am aware.”

He looked up from the box and lightly cupped Sass in his hands. Alfred’s eyes squinted at him, his eyes roaming over his tiny form suspiciously. Sass stayed still for him, not feeling uncomfortable at the human’s scrutiny. Humans were suspicious of the unknown, Sass decided. They were wary even when there was evidence to say otherwise.

When Alfred seemed satisfied, he spoke again. “Why would Mr. Fu give me a tiny snake?”

Sass frowned. “I may be tiny, human, but I am powerful. With the bracelet you hold in that box, you will be able to turn back time for an unlimited amount of times within an allotted 5 minutes after the first reset. With my help, you are able to directly change events around you as they happen, for as much as you wish.”

The young man’s eyes widened and gulped; Sass was unable to determine if it was out of terror or fascination.

“Why would he entrust me with such a power?”

“The Guardian’s mind works in mysterious ways. Perhaps, he wanted to give you a chance to see in yourself, what he saw in you.”

His breath hitched, and he gulped again. “And what if I don’t like what I see?”

Sass floated upwards to meet Alfred’s eyes. Yellow eyes met dark brown as he spoke. “That will all depend on you.”

For the next few months, Sass watched as Alfred Pennyworth trained with his fellow soldiers as part of the Achnacarry in Scotland and eventually recruited to the No. 47 (Royal Marine) Commando based in Dorchester once the new year came. It had been the longest that Sass had interacted with any of his holders. He took to hiding in the pockets of Alfred’s uniform, although he often wished he had another place to hide when Alfred and the other humans were training with ringing, deafening gunshots, the thundering footsteps of a hundred men caused tremors within the soil, and the hoarse shouts and screams of soldiers in a stimulated battlefield. When the soldiers were off-duty, Sass liked the chatter as Alfred and the others conversed with one another, their different tones whether morose or jovial, since it helped him drift off to sleep in Alfred’s warm pocket.

In what little downtime that they had, Alfred liked to ask Sass questions about the Miraculous, what they did, their purpose in the world, the limits of his own Miraculous, and always, why he was chosen to bear such a great responsibility. Sass always told him what he could (although being inactive for so long left him little knowledge of other holders), and always repeated what he had told Alfred the first day they met. Sass liked being with Alfred. He was intelligent, curious, logical, and sensitive to information. Despite the grim circumstances that surrounded their partnership, he was glad that Master Fu had chosen Alfred Pennyworth.

It had been nearly a year since Sass and Alfred met when the No. 47 Commando received their first operation on June 6, 1944. Alfred often told him stories at night of his family, his home, and his surroundings. The night before as they were preparing for battle, Alfred had shared his worries with his fellow soldiers and Sass. It would be the first time they would be in a real battle, outside of Achnacarry or Dorchester. As the Commando arrived at the battlefield the day after, all the soldiers were crammed onto a ship. It had only taken a few hours to arrive at the outskirts of where they needed to be. Only a few miles from the shore, and already the sounds of battle rang throughout the ships, and the soldiers prepared to join in. Some would join as soon as the ship hit shore while others would stay behind to make sure that their ship didn’t sink and attack the opposing army from the water. Alfred was one of the soldiers that would be fighting the moment they hit shore, so he made sure to find an empty space to transform. Sass found himself and Alfred cramped near the ship’s engine, where Alfred was already fiddling with the Snake Miraculous.

“I won’t look like a circus act when I transform, will I, Sass?”

Sass shook his head. “No. Make sure to imagine yourself as you are, and the Miraculous will conform to your desires. You might find that your clothes will feel scaly as a side effect. Either way, your clothes will protect you from most impacts, although I’m not sure about bullets.”

Alfred smiled. “I see. Will I be able to talk to you when I’m transformed?”

“No.” Alfred’s eyes widened. “Fear not. I will still be with you, as a part of you, but we will not be able to interact as we are now nor will I be conscious when you are transformed.”

Alfred took a shaky breath. “Alright. Thank you, Sass. Anything else I need to know?”

“Use it wisely. Seeing that many possibilities will take a toll on you. You will most likely witness one moment in time in different ways. Others may not remember the other timelines, but you will. Do not forget that.”

Alfred gave a curt nod. “This is it, then?”

“Yessss, I wish you luck, Alfred.”

“As do I,” he chuckled. “Sass, scales slither.”

As Alfred called out the last words, Sass faded into unconsciousness. He had faith in Alfred, and hoped he would work well with the Snake.

______________________________________________________________________________

When Alfred de-transformed, Sass noticed the light in his eyes and the way he clutched tightly onto two soldiers a few years older than him. The battle was over for now, Sass mused, so Alfred must be relieved that he was safe and alive. Later in the safety of his barrack, Alfred recounted the battle in hushed whispers, how many times he went back to save just one more life (“To think, who might’ve remained dead if you were not with me,” he said, rubbing Sass’ head affectionately with his finger), or to take one more shot he missed the first time. Sass asked him the precise number of times that he went back in time during those allotted 5 minutes that he had used “Second Chance.” Sass asked him who he had saved, how, and whose lives were lost in return. Alfred answers both questions enthusiastically with a significant amount of detail, that Sass allowed himself to feel content. Alfred had saved lives, had done his part for his country.

Sass was proud of his snakelet.

As time went on, battles were waged and the war raged on all over Europe. Sass didn’t understand human battles, but he made sure to stay by Alfred’s side for all of it.

It was about half a year in that Sass noticed the changes that Alfred is going through. Like every soldier, he is marred with scars, had a more gaunt, more sickly frame that came from eating smaller rations and sleeping less, and dark circles under his eyes that emphasized how haunted he was. Yet, Sass noticed that Alfred was overextending himself. In every offense, Alfred volunteered to be in the frontlines. In every battle, he took the time to transform, which meant Sass was also often exhausted after every battle and struggled to eat the already miniscule portions Alfred spared from his rations. After every battle, Alfred was jumpy, going from soldier to soldier and striking up conversation whenever he could, visiting the infirmary and muttering apologies to the wounded soldiers. It took Sass a while to realize that the former had been people he had saved, and the latter were the people that he couldn’t or those that he almost hadn’t.

Nights were always the worst. In the daytime with the rush and hustle of war battles, there was not a lot of time for Alfred to do anything but act and fight, especially when he transformed with Sass. But at night, when there was a semblance of silence in his own corner of the barracks, Sass comforted Alfred through the tears, the nightmares, the bloodshed, and other horrors he witnessed. When Sass couldn’t comfort him, Alfred retreated to the arms of Leo Dupain, a soldier a few years older who knew of Alfred’s real age, and the person who Alfred recounted saving the most during his resets. He had sandy brown hair, olive green eyes, a square-like jaw with a hooked nose that looked like it had been broken at least once. Sass listened to their hushed promises of returning to the motherland and settling down somewhere in the countryside far away from the influences of war and its politics. Sass watched as both Alfred and Leo drifted to sleep, holding each other like they were each other’s only anchor to the physical realm. Sass watched as Alfred woke a half hour before the crack of dawn to visit the infirmary before beginning his training, never looking back. Each time, Sass noticed that Leo searched for warmth that had previously been there.

Sass knew that witnessing all of Time’s possibilities was a heavy burden for anyone, much less a child. Alfred related to him about comrades who had died from gunshots, from being trampled on, or thrown overboard. If not them, it was the patients in the infirmary, the ones who had fallen trap to insanity or those who had lost a part of their physical bodies forever. Alfred was inconsolable. By December of 1944, Alfred had anxiety, insomnia, and an unhealthy attachment to the Snake Miraculous.

During that time, Sass tried to teach Alfred how to be more responsible with the Snake’s power, how to use each return more efficiently, and especially, how Alfred didn’t need to use the Miraculous for every injury that his comrades endured. Sass had relayed stories of other Miraculous heros: Heracles, Hippolyta, Joan of Arc, others unrecorded in history who had struggled to learn the same lesson: that Alfred was not a god and he couldn’t save everyone.

But war was brutal and without mercy, especially to those with kind hearts.

Everything came to a head when Alfred failed to save Leo Dupain before he could reset. Sass was thrown onto the ground as the transformation wore off, gunshots blazing in the background as Alfred’s screams pierced his tiny ears. Sass slowly shuffled to Alfred’s side, and climbed into a nearby pocket.

“Leo, Leo!” Alfred cried, grabbing the heavy body of Leo Dupain, whose leg had been blown off by a nearby explosive. Blood spilled forth from the wound, and Leo breathed in shallow gasps, as his body became limp. Alfred was soon covered in his blood and from the dust and dirt around them. Frantically, he tried to find spare cloth but was futile in his efforts. Sass could feel the tremors from Alfred’s body as he held onto Leo Dupain like a lifeline. Other soldiers had heard his cries and clambered to them, grabbing Alfred forcefully out of Leo’s arms and into safety,

“He needs me! Stop! I need to save him!”

“Leg’s been blasted off, can’t do much for ‘im now but fight,” a soldier- Gabriel Ackles- muttered. He had been one of the soldiers Alfred saved a week earlier from a headshot.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Alfred ranted hysterically. “I was supposed to save him; he wasn’t supposed to get hurt. He’s going to die…”

SLAP

Alfred stood stunned as Gabriel stood before him, red-faced and fuming.

“We are in battle, soldier! Get it together! You wanna help Dupain, Pennyworth?!” Gabriel didn’t wait for an answer before shoving a long gun of sorts into Alred’s hands. “You go out there and drag every Nazi motherfucker to hell or die trying! You got it, soldier?!”

Sass watched as Alfred’s eyes dimmed into a stormy grey and stared at the gun in his hands. A second passed and with trembling hands, Alfred was marching back onto the battlefield, gun ablaze. Sass tried hard as he could to use whatever remaining energy he had to protect Alfred, but the amount of resets during Alfred’s transformation had exhausted him and he fell unconscious to the sounds of war.

When Sass regained consciousness, it was to Master Fu’s face. A chill ran down his spine as he fluttered around frantically searching for Alfred. They were in an empty room that only had a few books, two futons and the Miracle Box. There were two double doors that separated their room from the outside world and another, smaller door that led to the rest of the building.

Where were they? Why was he here? More importantly, where was Alfred?

“Do not bother, Sass,” Master Fu said in a tone more morose than he had ever heard. “Mr. Pennyworth has returned you to me. It has been several months since you were inactive.”

Sass deflated and floated down to the ground beneath him. “Where is he now, Master?”

“I am unsure.” Master Fu looked out of the large double doors. “I am afraid that I have placed too many expectations on young Alfred. When he helped us escape London, I had given you to him as a token of gratitude and friendship.”

“Master?”

Master Fu sighed and turned back to look at Sass with teary eyes. “I could not have foreseen that I had cursed more than blessed him, Sass. He had refused to give you back at first, and it was only yesterday, a month since I last saw him, that you had returned to us.”

Sass couldn’t speak. He had really liked Alfred Pennyworth. He was a good man- one of the best. But, even he couldn’t deny the madness he had endured during his time as one of his snakelets. If kwami had hearts, Sass knew it would be obliterated by the news.

“I see, Master,” was all Sass said before Master Fu renounced him and his Miraculous.

Present day

“And that was the last I heard of Alfred Pennyworth. The next time I appeared in this realm, it was to Luka Couffaine.”

Marinette wiped away a few tears that had sprung up during Sass’ story.

“Do you think he would have anything to do with the Miraculous after all he’d been through, Sass?”

Sass bowed his head and closed his eyes. “Perhaps. He had many questions I could not answer. I am not sure if his trauma overrode his curiosity. I know he had been planning on studying the Miraculous more before Leo Dupain had died.”

Marinette played with her hands as she mulled over Sass’ response. Something about his story caught her attention.

“Leo Dupain? As in my granduncle, Leo Dupain?”

Sass blinked, yellow eyes trained on her. “Perhaps.”

“If they're the same person, then he’s still around,” Marinette mused, thinking of the one-legged elder from her early childhood that made her laugh with his silly jokes and warm cuddles. “I never really kept up with him since my grandfather kept us away from Papa’s side of the family. He was funny, though.”

Marinette entered a silent trance, going over all the new information she had received so far, while the kwamis waited with bated breaths. Alfred Pennyworth had deeper ties with her than she had previously thought. In another world, he would’ve been another distant granduncle. However, would she risk going to him in this world when the Miraculous had already scarred him so deeply? But what if he didn’t know about her granduncle? What if he spurned her away despite that? What if he didn’t? What had Master Fu seen in Alfred Pennyworth that he had practically given away one of the Miraculous to his care? How would she explain everything that had happened since their last argument?

What other choices did Marinette really have?

“Marinette?” Tikki asked, the only kwami comfortable enough to break her train of thought.

She sighed, not liking her decision one bit, but she was desperate, and in some ways, this would be beneficial for both Alfred Pennyworth and her.

“Looks like we’re going to Gotham City.”

______________________________________________________________

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awesomerextyphoon · 4 years ago

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Charred Briar Roses - 7

Recourse

Summary: You finally see Karim and an old friend.

Paring: Orc!Bucky x Black!Reader, Orc!Steve x Black!OFC, Orc!Sam x Black!OFC

Word Count: 1596

Rating: 18+

Warning: Not much for this chapter

Back to Masterlist

“Karim! What happened?! How are you-”

“Easy there, cousin. Drink this,” he handed you a water bottle, “You’ve been out for three days. Take it slow.”

Three days?! FUCK! How did-

“How did you save us? You never studied magic when were kids,” you remembered a more poignant point, “How are you still alive?!”

Karim sighed deeply and his eyes were downcast, “After Sophronius’ failed coup and resulting battle, he asked the demon lord for ‘more fire power’,” he unbuckled his armor and rolled up his right sleeve revealing a shadow demon seal,”and the demon lord delivered. I was his first successful guinea pig. The sealing was the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced. He and mother fought for weeks until she finally tried to escape with Amani. They were caught and,” Karim lips quivered as he tried to hold back his tears,”he sacrificed my mother and bound Amani to an enslaved succubus.” He gasped out the last part and the dam burst.

You pulled him in for a hug as he sobbed for a couple minutes. Even though you didn’t have the best relationship with Amani (she was resentful of the attention you and your sisters got and in turn you ignored her), both she and Aunt Photine did not deserve their fates.

You wanted offer Karim some comfort, so you continued to hold him while aired out his emotions.

Once Karim calmed down, he returned to his tale, “I still don’t know where he took Amani, but I still remember her cries. The next day the shadow demon took over and it was like I was in this abyss like place, my only window to the outside world was through the demon’s eyes. I’m still haunted by the screams of the innocent while I went along with that abomination’s plans of conquest.”

“How did you escape?”

Right then, another figure came into the clearing. She was a dark elf! Her long silvery platinum blonde hair was in a french braid with delicate bangs on either side of her face, framing her spring green eyes beautifully. Her skin was a lovely shade of midnight purple which contrasted nicely with her powder blue and light sand outfit.

Karim turned to the approaching elf and pulled her in for a comforting hug and a kiss, “I was saved by Dáiríne, my mate.”

Neat.

“It is pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I’ve heard so much about you and your sisters. I just wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Dáiríne was a spy for the remaining Fae and the Resistance. She was able to stop me from killing her and freed me from the shadow demon’s and my sperm donor’s influence. We’ve been assisting the Resistance from afar ever since.”

Well, it great to see someone in your family have some happiness. There was still one thing bothering you, “What happened to the Fae?”

Before Karim or Dáiríne could answer, the moon hit the willow tree just right and it began to glow in a color similar to the Nephrashim Crystal. The reeds pulled themselves apart and 10ft mirror appeared at its base while a stone path rose from the water.

Karim motioned you to walk towards the willow tree and when you got close enough to see your reflection, a figure appeared in the mirror.

It was Aoife! Or rather, what remained of her. Aoife’s once lustrous strawberry blonde hair was now a dull yellow almost gray. Her youthful face was haggard and her vivacious body was now a corpse, barely holding itself together.

Tears welled up in your eyes, “Aoife, what happened?”

“My sweet summer child, I had almost lost hope oof see you again. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to greet upon your matches breaking the spell. As you can see, I’m stuck in an enchanted mirror.” Aoife laughed bitterly and sighed,”To answer question, I’ll have to go back to your 18th birthday.

When you and your sisters fell, Sophronius took that moment and killed your father. He would’ve killed your mother if was not for a stable boy who was in the right (or wrong) place at the time. Your mother used the commotion to escape and gather a surprisingly large force to fight Sophronius. It took three days and the loss of three of my sisters, but we were able to drive that demon asswipe away from the Crystal and you.

We were able to form the Resistance with your mother at the head and we had some successes...but it did not last. Within 150yrs, Sophronius either killed or captured all of the Fae. I was the last free Fae left when Doireann was killed at the Battle of Skull Ridge.”

“What about the Titania?”

“She was the first one to be captured as a means to let everyone else escape. Although, considering how this started, we might’ve deserved our fates.” Aoife lamented.

You shot her a puzzled look.

She gave you morose smile, “About 5,000yrs ago, the Nephrashim Empire was just a small kingdom. It pretty well for itself, but it was always attacked by raiders and natural disasters. One day the Crystal fell from the sky a few hundred meters from the kingdom’s walls. The current king had it brought to the central square and the entire kingdom was bathed in its glow. Soon the people of Nephrashim was able to create marvels of science and technology the world has never seen.

Everyone in the kingdom was enjoying unbridled peace and prosperity. All was well...until a king, Bashar, five generations down took the throne. He wanted to share the kingdom’s knowledge and wealth with the world. At first, we were glad. We’ve been saying that it was rude for Nephrashim to hoard all of their progress to themselves and the kingdom was only place the Fae were truly welcomed.

But his mind turned to conquest.

We remained loyal to Nephrashim royal line despite the atrocities.”

You balled your fists in anger, “Why didn’t you or the rest of the Fae do anything!”

Aoife bowed her head in shame, “Most of us didn’t feel the need to do anything since we weren’t the ones doing it and it didn’t affect us.”

Why is almost everyone in your pre-cursed life either psychos or cowards?

Fuck.

“How I do stop Sophronius?”

“The Nephrashim Crystal. It is the heart of the empire and the key to Sophronius’ plans. In the throne room, there’s a key that opens a staircase that leads to the underground chamber where the Crystal is being held. You will need your sisters as you are the last ones of the direct royal line since Sophronius lost the duel for the throne.

I am truly sorry that you and your sisters must bear the burden of our apathy, but you are the only ones who can stop Sophronius.

I know that this is hard, but know that you are not alone in this fight. Trust your loved ones.”

“Why does this feel like you’re leaving us?”

“Because I am. I only had enough power left to give you this message. I am sorry my little chipmunk,” and with that the glow enveloping the willow tree faded and the mirror vanished.

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

You fell to your knees and sobbed until Karim scooped you up and carried you back to shore. Dáiríne got you something to eat and got you up to speed on the Resistance, “Your sisters have been captured by Sophronius and the Resistance is mourning the loss of Olanma and Chetachi. If this keeps up it won’t be long before Sophomore wins.”

“Thanks for the boost. You have any good news?”

“I have something you’ll like,” Dáiríne smiled, “But first, what are you going to do?”

“I have to get my sisters and destroy the Nephrashim Crystal. It’s the only thing I can do now.”

Dáiríne stood up and led you away from the kitchen, “Well, you’re going to need some help. Now, before you ask, Karim and I have already contacted the remaining members. They’re not happy about what happened with you, but they’re working on a plan. Let’s see here,” she stops in front of set of metal doors, “Go on, Y/N.”

You cautiously opened the doors to find Bucky on a bed, his left arm replaced with a metal one made of vibranium and mithril weaved with both magic and biomedical engineering in the Nephrashim fashion.

It suited him, and it somehow made him sexier.

“I’ve been trying to wake him for hours, but I think you might fare better,” Dáiríne whispered as closed in on Bucky and gave him a kiss.

He was unresponsive for a moment before he grunted and smirked against her lips,”I guess the tables have turned. Huh, sweetheart?”

––––––––

You and Bucky stayed with Karim and Dáiríne for a few days while Bucky got used to his new arm when the Weeping Willow was engulfed in flames.

“Shit! The Horde! Dáiríne, take Bucky and Y/N to the rendezvous! I’ll hold them off!” Karim barked as he activated his demon seal release.

“No! We can’t leave you here!” you yelled back.

“Quickly you two!,” Dáiríne ordered as she dragged you to the workshop and locked the doors. She got the portal ready right as the Horde group leader, one of the demon lord’s sons, started to break through.

“Get in!” Dáiríne shouted as the Horde leader started firing at them.

“But-”

Dáiríne gave you a heartbroken smile, “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she pushed you into the portal.

Taglist: @giorno-plays-piano @lookiamtrying @retroxvailles @hurricanerin @saiyanprincessswanie @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @pseudonymphet @rosalynshields @imdarkinme @macheregrace @anyatheladyclown @buckysbunny @marvelfansworld @mcudarklibrary @moonstruckbucky

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky x black!reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #mcu imagine #mcu fanfiction #dark!mcu #sleeping beauty #fairy tales #dark fairytale #mcu #charred briar roses

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likecastle · 4 years ago

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Witcher Noir AU, part 12

More Witcher noir AU! All previous parts can be found here.

“I must be slipping,” Jaskier murmurs against Geralt’s mouth. His tongue slides out to taste Geralt’s lower lip.

“Hm?”

“Well . . . ” Jaskier’s hand is still running up Geralt’s side, but gently now, his touch tantalizingly light. “Usually when I kiss someone who’s distracted, I’m the one responsible for distracting them. But you’re positively absent-minded, and I’m fairly certain you’re not thinking about me.”

It takes Geralt a moment to catch up with Jaskier’s words, and when he does, his cheeks grow warm. “It’s not—”

“Oh, don’t worry, darling,” Jaskier says breezily. “I assume it’s some brilliant plan to rescue Cirilla, in which case I forgive you.” He kisses the corner of Geralt’s mouth before straightening up. “Am I right?”

“It’s . . . something.” Not brilliant. Not even much of a plan. A possibility. “I’ve got to make a phone call. Get dressed—not what you were wearing. Should be some spare clothes in the wardrobe that’ll fit you well enough.”

Jaskier nods, and heads for the bedroom. Geralt can hear him open the wardrobe and, a moment later, begin sliding the hangers around on their rail.

Geralt gets to his feet and liberates the telephone from the clutter of unread newspapers sitting on his side table. It’s too early to expect Mousesack to be at the Grove, so he dials the home number he remembers, hoping things haven’t changed too much since his days working for Calanthe. He can hear Jaskier in the bedroom, muttering under his breath, and smiles to himself as the line rings.

“What?” Mousesack mumbles, after Geralt says hello. “Geralt? Is everything all right? Have you—?”

“Nothing yet,” he says. “Just a question for you.”

“Of course, whatever you need.” Geralt can hear the hangover in Mousesack’s voice, and he winces in sympathy for his friend.

“You told me yesterday that before Eist was killed, he got a tip that someone matching Ciri’s description had been spotted at some warehouse?”

“That’s right.” He can hear Mousesack waking up by degrees. “Some abandoned place down by the docks. It was an anonymous call—the whole thing stank from the start.”

“Who took the call?”

“Eist,” Mousesack confirms. “I told him not to go, but he refused to leave any stone unturned. I guess whoever it was, they were counting on that.”

“Hm.” Geralt lets out a breath. “D’you remember the name of the place?”

“Amell something or other. Shipping and Receiving, maybe. Somewhere on the waterfront, I don’t remember the address.”

“I’ll find it,” Geralt says. It’s enough to go on. “Thanks. And . . . stay safe.”

“You, too, old friend.”

Geralt hangs up. He pokes his head into the bedroom and is amused to see Jaskier standing in a pair of his underwear and a clean shirt, still staring in consternation into his wardrobe.

“Geralt, this is a disgrace!” Jaskier says. “How can you live like this?”

“I seem to be getting by.”

“Getting by is not living,” Jaskier admonishes him—and if there’s a truer summary of the past few years, Geralt can’t think of one. “‘Some spare clothes,’ he says. Little did I know he meant a couple of threadbare shirts and a choice between two of the ugliest suits I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

Geralt frowns at the suits hanging up in the wardrobe. “They’re . . . fine.”

Jaskier laughs pityingly. “Oh, Geralt. The options are gangster”—he holds up a pinstripe suit—“or”—he proffers a plaid suit that has always slightly given Geralt the impression that he’s staring into an optical illusion—“cash-poor country lord on a bender.”

Geralt can’t really debate that assessment. There’s a reason these are the two clean suits left in his wardrobe, after all. “You can’t wear what you had on. He’s seen you in it. Might as well put a target on your back.”

“To say nothing of the fact that it’s got your blood all over it,” Jaskier points out. “But I can’t even look at this, I feel like it’s trying to hypnotize me. God only knows what would happen if I tried to put it on.” He puts the plaid suit back in the wardrobe with a shudder. “When all this is over, I’m taking you shopping. Don’t even try to argue, because you won’t be able to stop me.”

When Jaskier removes the suit from its hanger and starts to put it on, Geralt looks away out of some misplaced sense of modesty, trying very carefully not to think about what it might mean for all this to be over. It’s never happened, as far as he can recall. The minute he extricates himself from one scrape, some other trouble jams him up. He can’t remember the last time he had more than a moment’s peace. But it’s nice to imagine finding that respite—Ciri somewhere he can be sure she’s safe, and a few quiet hours to get to know Jaskier properly, without anyone shooting at them—even if he knows it’ll never happen.

When he turns around, Jaskier is fully dressed and regarding himself with dismay in the mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door. “I look like the second henchman in a Dick Tracy comic.”

Geralt resists the urge to smile. The suit is a little loose in the shoulders, which does make him look a little bit like a gangster, or, more generously, maybe a zoot suiter, but it fits him better than Geralt expected. Their builds are different, but Jaskier fills out his clothes well enough that, under different circumstances, Geralt might be tempted to undress him right here and now. “It’s not that bad.”

“I suppose I can hardly expect you to know any better,” Jaskier says morosely, “since you used to be a gangster, and all. You don’t happen to have a Tommy gun, do you? Because I think a submachine gun would really complete the look.”

Geralt rolls his eyes. “Quit whining,” he says, and then, feeling reckless, he adds, “It looks—good.”

Jaskier’s eyes light up, his lips curling into a mischievous grin. “Oh, really?”

“Shut up,” Geralt mutters, feeling shy now under Jaskier’s teasing gaze.

“Mm, no,” Jaskier drawls, smirking even wider, “not just yet. I’m going to need to hear more about how devastatingly handsome I look in your clothes.”

“I never said that.”

“Did you not?” Jaskier reaches out to take hold of Geralt’s arm. Geralt is weak, and goes willingly when Jaskier draws him in. “Because I thought I heard you say you found me simply irresistible in this ill-fitting, outdated suit of yours.”

“We’ve got to go,” Geralt protests, but lets Jaskier kiss him again. He can’t remember the last time he felt like such a fool for someone—except of course he can, because it was Yennefer, years ago and this morning and always. “Jaskier,” he prompts, though he does nothing to put a stop to their embrace.

“All right, all right, just one more thing,” Jaskier says, his lips soft and supple and smiling. “I need your advice about which of your hideous ties I should wear.”

Part thirteen

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junglejelly · 5 years ago

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Prompt fill - Xichen Week Day 7(+11): Himbo/Seachen

(On AO3)

One day.

Jiang Cheng just wanted one day of peace and quiet, away from home, away from his responsibilities, away from his idiot brother and his nutcases of a mother and father. Just a few hours alone — him and a boat and nothing else.

Clearly, that was too much to ask for.

His solitary little fishing expedition had lasted exactly two hours, and then everything went to shit. This day off must have been more sorely needed than he thought, because he had fallen asleep right there in his little boat, in the middle of the river, fishing rod hanging out the side and face baking in the morning sun.

As a man who grew up his whole life on a lakeshore, he should have known better — and he did, he did, goddammit, it wasn’t his fault that his stupid body betrayed him and abandoned him to drift on the currents like an absolute amateur, dead to the world, until his boat literally crashed into a clump of rocks.

That was half an hour ago. And now…

Jiang Cheng stomped angrily through the underbrush, slapping away any branches that dared cross his path. The fact that the ground was made up of dead leaves and soft moss only served to make him angrier, as they cushioned his steps so as to render them almost silent and thus robbed him of his god-given right to express his rage via the soles of his boots. Which, incidentally, were damp and squishing with every step. As was the rest of him. Because, as if getting stranded in the middle of a forest tributary wasn’t embarrassing enough, he obviously also had to be pitched overboard at the impact, lose his oars, and get his boat hopelessly stuck on the rocks.

So there he was, half an hour later, trawling the woods in search of a branch thick and sturdy enough to act as a lever and hope it would be sufficient to lift the (thankfully undamaged) boat out of its rocky trap.

He was having no luck so far, though. No likely candidates were presenting themselves on the ground, and any branches he had tried to pry loose from a living tree had resisted his attempts.

His stomach growled.

Well, great. It must be nearing midday. Good thing he’d thought to set up his net before leaving the scene of the disaster. Maybe, he if was lucky, some fish would —

Just then, a twig slapped him in the face, making him yelp and jump back in surprise.

That’s it, he thought vengefully, spitting out a mouthful of leaves, his pulse rocketing up in indescribable fury. Fuck this. FUCK it. I am DONE.

“Fine. FINE! Keep your shitty branches!” he shrilled into the forest.

The forest did not answer.

He whirled around and stomped (soundlessly, goddammit) back the way he came.

As he neared the bank again, a splashing sound made him quicken his footsteps. Finally, some good fortune! Judging from the noise, he definitely wasn’t going to go hungry in the next few hours.

Actually, it was a bit strange that he could hear it so clearly from all the way over here. Just how big was this fish, exactly?!

He stepped out of the underbrush.

… And stared. That’s it, he thought. I’ve finally lost it. Finally gone off the deep end. It had to happen eventually, right?

In front of him, the mermaid kept struggling.

After a few moments, when Jiang Cheng was sure this hallucination wasn’t going to suddenly disappear, he stepped forward and called out.

“Hey. You there. You, uh… you need a hand?”

The mermaid immediately flailed upright (well… the parts of it that weren’t a giant fish tail, holy fucking shit, anyway) and its eyes snapped to Jiang Cheng’s.

It looked… male? Probably? Hard to tell, with all that hair sticking everywhere and all those… well. Fins. And scales. (Scales! What the fuck!)

Jiang Cheng was spared from his imminent meltdown when the mermaid’s eyes creased in a smile and he (it? did mermaids even have genders?) exhaled in relief. “Oh, would you? I seem to have gotten myself in quite the predicament…”

Yep, definitely male, going by that voice. Jiang Cheng stared some more. Well, if this guy was going to act so chill, who was he to do otherwise?

“Right. Sure. Let me just… Hang on.”

Feeling like he was having an out-of-body experience, Jiang Cheng unsheathed his knife from his belt and approached, before a thought struck him and he stopped abruptly.

“Wait.” The mermaid looked at him questioningly. “Is this a trap? Are you gonna eat me?”

The creature tilted his head. “...Eat you?”

“Or drown me, or abduct me, or whatever,” Jiang Cheng amended hurriedly. Okay, that was dumb, nobody had ever heard of a mermaid eating its victims, but give him a break, he was under a lot of pressure here. He just said the first thing that popped into his mind!

Either way, the mermaid seemed offended. “Drown you? I would never!” He splashed his tail agitatedly. “We’re not savages, you know!”

“Well, forgive me for assuming,” Jiang Cheng muttered. “Never met a fucking mermaid before.”

“Mer, actually,” the mermaid — mer — corrected, politely but firmly. “Merman, if you must.”

“...Right,” Jiang Cheng managed, before he stepped closer (close enough to touch, and to see that tail right there in front of this face, what was his life) and attacked the thick netting with his knife.

It was, sadly, unsalvageable. Jiang Cheng didn’t even want to know how the… merman… had managed to get himself that badly tangled up into it, though it did use to be a good, strong fishing net, wide enough to get a generous catch in one go, if luck was in your favor. As it was, though, it was about to be turned into a pile of frayed rope bits. He could kiss his much-anticipated lunch goodbye, Jiang Cheng thought morosely.

“I was just trying to free the fish inside,” the merman said then, apparently feeling the need to explain himself and unknowingly adding insult to injury. “The poor things had gotten themselves trapped, I just couldn’t leave them that way.”

“Yeah, no, obviously,” Jiang Cheng forced out. “Wouldn’t want them to remain trapped in a fishing net, in case any old fisherman happening nearby could just lift them out and eat them for lunch, huh? No way, that’d be ridiculous,” he added, perhaps a little more hysterically than necessary.

“...”

Jiang Cheng didn’t look up, forcefully focusing on his task, but he could still feel the moment when the penny dropped and the merman gasped in realization.

“Oh! Oh no! Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t — I really… I simply thought —”

Obviously distressed, the merman continued to babble and wring his hands for a while while Jiang Cheng worked on the last few threads digging into his tail.

“Oh, how awful of me! How thoughtless! Of course it was your net, I didn’t realize…” He trailed off for a moment, then seemed to reach a conclusion. “I must make amends,” he declared. “I shall catch you some fish. Bigger fish. Better fish,” he added, nodding to himself.

Jiang Cheng snorted. “Isn’t that, like, fratricide for you?”

The merman looked miffed, but, considering the circumstances, he must have felt like he owed it to Jiang Cheng to tone down the disapproval. “Of course not. We do eat fish, you know.”

“You do? Huh. Well, either way, don’t bother. I don’t think I could even stomach it, at this point,” he replied dejectedly. “I just wanna go home. And then maybe sleep for the next three weeks and hope that’s enough to forget this horrible, horrible day.”

This appeared to distress the merman. “Truly? Then you must allow me to repay you in another way. Anything you wish, that I am able to offer you. Name it, and it is yours.”

Jiang Cheng laughed ruefully. “Can you magically lift my boat from those rocks?”

He couldn’t. There was no way. That boat was well and truly wedged in there, stuck in between jagged boulders and buried in a tangle of driftwood.

“Oh! Of course! I didn’t see it there,” the merman replied happily.

...What? Jiang Cheng checked again, to see if the boat had moved from its previous immovable position.

Nope. Still there.

“Listen,” he started doubtfully, “thanks for offering, but I don’t think anyone can move that thing. I’ll probably have to come back with a few people,” he sighed.

“Nonsense,” the merman smiled. “Just get me out of here, and we’ll have it down in a flash.”

Jiang Cheng still doubted that, but whatever. No skin off his back if the merman tried and failed to rescue his stupid boat from the stupid rocks.

“You’re pretty trusting for a mermaid — sorry, merman — aren’t you?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? Our peoples have coexisted peacefully for a very long time, you know. Just because meetings between us are rare, does not mean I should feel threatened by your presence.” With a wide grin, he continued, “Quite the opposite, in fact — I am delighted to have made your acquaintance! Circumstances notwithstanding, of course.”

Jiang Cheng considered that. “You know, I thought Wei Wuxian was shitting me all this time, but…” He observed the merman critically. The pretty face, the silky hair held back by a glistening white ribbon… “Are you… are you that Lan Zhan guy, by any chance?”

The merman perked up. “Wangji? You know my brother?”

“He’s your brother?” Well then. Small world, huh. “I don’t know him, but my brother won’t shut up about him.”

“Really?” The merman clearly found this piece of information fascinating. “Where do they know each other from? Do you know?”

“Sorry, no clue. Honestly, I thought your brother didn’t even exist until a second ago. All I know is that my idiot of a brother claimed to have met a mermaid a few years ago and hasn’t shut up about him since.”

“Merman,” the other corrected again, absently. He seemed to be absorbed by the revelation.

“So?”

The merman snapped to attention again. “Hm?”

“Your name,” Jiang Chengs reminded him pointedly.

“Oh!” He drew himself straighter at that, a sunny smile settling on his features. “My name, yes. My name is Lan Xichen. A pleasure to meet you.” He dipped his head.

Lan Xichen. How… mundane. Boring, even. It was almost offensive, that such an exotic creature could have such an utterly normal name.

The creature in question kept beaming, completely unaware of Jiang Cheng’s uncharitable inner monologue.

Jiang Cheng blinked, slightly perturbed by the (frankly alarming) degree of cheeriness being displayed by the man — Lan Xichen, he reminded himself — while he was still restrained and a total stranger was brandishing a knife near his delicate fish parts.

Whatever. This guy probably wouldn’t live past thirty, with survival instincts like those, but that wasn’t his problem.

“Right. Well, I’m Jiang Cheng.”

At that point, Jiang Cheng’s intense sawing efforts finally paid off, and the last knot fell loose. He carefully picked at the threads digging into the fragile-looking membrane until every last scrap of rope fell away. He had half a second to survey his work — some areas looked a bit bruised, but at least no blood had been drawn — before Lan Xichen retracted his tail out of reach and under the surface. Jiang Cheng thought he could see him swish his tail a few times, cautiously testing it against the current, checking it for injuries. The river water was clean and crystalline there, and the sun danced off the merman’s light, silvery blue scales in undulating patterns.

When Lan Xichen refocused on Jiang Cheng, his smile was blinding. “Thank you! You have my gratitude, and that of the Lan clan.”

“...Yeah,” Jiang Cheng managed, dazed by the combination of glittering scales and beaming smile.

“Well! Let’s get to it, then,” the merman said cheerfully, already swimming away. Jiang Cheng stared.

Now that the urgency was gone, he was struck all over again by how utterly bonkers the whole encounter was. Would people back home even believe him, if he told them about this? Well, Wei Wuxian would, at least, he thought manically, gawking at the delicate fins rippling all along the merman’s tail as he swam away.

Wait. Away? Was he leaving already?

He ripped himself out of his trance just as the merman broke the surface again, long hair plastered to his neck and shoulders, and hoisted himself up on a boulder near the stranded boat.

He hummed thoughtfully, prodding at the thing and testing his grip.

“Wait,” Jiang Cheng started, “be careful, don’t —”

Too late. Lan Xichen gave a mighty heave, and with a grunt, the boat slid free of the rocks.

“— ...hurt yourself,” Jiang Cheng finished lamely, once again reduced to staring idiotically as his boat rocked slightly from the momentum, scraped but unharmed.

Somewhere on his periphery, Lan Xichen laughed brightly. “See? I told you it wouldn’t be an issue.”

“You sure did,” Jiang Cheng replied automatically, still not sure if he should believe his eyes. What, did merpeople have super-strength, or something? Or was he just that dumb, and the damn thing was never actually stuck in the first place?

Oblivious to his distress, the merman slipped back into the water soundlessly and took it upon himself to steer the boat toward the shore where Jiang Cheng was still kneeling like a useless moron.

When it bumped against the grassy bank, Jiang Cheng unfolded himself enough to find the anchor and tie it to a nearby sapling — not exactly secure, but good enough for the few minutes it would take for him to depart. Probably. Hopefully.

“Thanks,” he threw at Lan Xichen. The words felt inadequate, but he wasn’t sure what else he could say.

The merman watched as Jiang Cheng bent to retrieve the sad remains of the fishing net. It was completely ruined, but hey, he wasn’t about to leave it here and litter the woods like a barbarian. He threw the tangled mess into the boat, where it flopped with a pathetic, wet thunk.

A low whine drew his gaze toward Lan Xichen. “I’m sorry,” the merman said in a tortured voice, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy — and wasn’t that a feat, Jiang Cheng thought, considering he was a fucking fish. “I’m so sorry.”

“Are you seriously apologizing to me right now? For a stupid fishing net?” He demanded. “You could have stayed stuck and literally died.”

The merman pouted. “Still.”

“I give up,” Jiang Cheng signed, stepping into the boat to investigate the damage.

No holes, no water accumulated at the bottom, not even any scratches bigger than a hand-span. A miracle, really. Or rather, just compensation for all the rotten luck, Jiang Cheng thought grumpily. As if to prove him right, he also remembered — the oars. Those were still gone. Ugh. Seriously, fuck his life.

As he walked around, he caught the merman tracking his lower body with interest. His legs, he supposed — must look pretty weird to him, really. “So, have you ever actually met another human before?”

“Not up close, no,” Lan Xichen hummed.

“And yet you let me approach you without a single misgiving.”

“Well… yes?”

Jiang Cheng couldn’t help it — he dropped his face into his hands. “Oh my god,” he muttered. “You actually have zero sense of self-preservation.”

“Hey!”

“Don’t ‘hey’ me, you weirdo! Seriously, what the fuck! How are you still alive? How old are you, even?”

“Twenty-nine,” the merman grumbled, sinking lower into the water until his nose barely peeked out over the surface, but otherwise taking the chastisement without protest. Something told Jiang Cheng that this must not be his first time being admonished for this particular reason.

“Twenty-nine! That’s older than I am!” (Barely by two or three years, but Lan Xichen didn’t need to know that…) “Even I know better than to be so trusting, and I’m not the one from a rare species and with a tail so gorgeous people would probably kill to get their hands on it!”

Lan Xichen popped back up. “You think my tail is gorgeous?”

“...!” Jiang Cheng was pretty sure he was about to burst a blood vessel somewhere in his brain. “That is so not the point! Are you kidding me right now? That’s your takeaway from everything I just said?!”

“You think my tail is gorgeous,” Lan Xichen repeated, his lips stretching into a grin so wide Jiang Cheng wouldn’t have hesitated to call it shit-eating on any other face. Not this one, though. It was much too pretty and delicate. “You like my tail,” he said again, looking much too pleased with himself, and then — “Thank you. I like your legs, too. They’re quite nice.”

Jiang Cheng spluttered. “You —!”

The merman laughed, a tinkling, delighted sound, before diving underneath the surface and into a series of gleeful rolls and spins and splashes.

Okay, Jiang Cheng thought resignedly, that’s fucking adorable.

He braced himself for Lan Xichen coming back up, but despite that, he was still slightly stunned by the sheer brilliance of the merman’s smile when he reemerged.

“I like you,” the merman said without preamble, effectively shocking Jiang Cheng into a stupefied stillness and thoroughly frying his brain, all in one fell swoop. “Can we meet again?”

“I — I, I, uh...” Jiang Cheng stuttered.

Lan Xichen just hooked his fingers over the lip of the boat and let himself float there, smiling patiently, his eyes shining with a gentle mirth. Golden, Jiang Cheng thought distractedly. They’re golden. Huh. He hadn’t even noticed that. How did he miss that? And since when was gold even a real eye color that actually existed?

“Jiang Cheng?” the merman prompted gently.

“What?” Jiang Cheng startled. “Yes? I mean… What?”

“Can I see you again?” he asked once more, hopefully.

“...”

Jiang Cheng was pretty sure he was dreaming, at this point — but in that case, he figured, might as well go all the way, huh? What could it hurt? Nothing, that’s what.

“...Sure. Yes. We can… do that. If you want.”

Lan Xichen’s soft smile grew into a full-blown grin again, his eyes almost disappearing into happy creases.

“But,” Jiang Cheng continued, trying to distract himself from the sight, “for that to happen, I’m going to need to go home first. Which is not looking likely right now,” he finished ruefully.

The merman tilted his head. “Why is that? Is there something wrong with your boat?” He drew himself from the edge and gave the boat an appraising look — not that he was likely to know anything about them, Jiang Cheng surmised. Silly fish.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” he sighed, “except that it doesn’t have any oars. They got lost when I hit the rocks earlier. Probably floating somewhere far away downstream.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well…” Lan Xichen hedged.

Jiang Cheng met his gaze. “What? You got another miracle up your sleeve?”

“Not a miracle, but…” Lan Xichen diverted his glance sideways, towards a fallen tree resting on the bank. Its long-dead branches hung halfway into the water, gnarled and sturdy against the current. “Would one of these do?”

“Already tried those,” Jiang Cheng replied. “Don’t waste your time. They’re way, way too thick, no one could possibly —”

— aaand there he went again. Oh well, Jiang Cheng decided, settling in for the show. Maybe at least this way he could get revenge for earlier. He would sit there and point and laugh at Lan Xichen’s attempts, because there was no way in hell —

CRAAAAACK!

Jiang Cheng knew his eyes were bugging out of his head, okay, he knew, but listen. Listen. This time, he was positive he couldn’t have made a mistake, like he might have with the boat. This time, the branches were obviously enormous and obviously very, very securely attached to their trunk. He had checked. He had gone and touched those branches with his own two hands, and he knew —

Lan Xichen came back then, and lifted the thing out of the water to present it for his appraisal. A huge fucking tree limb, the straightest and smoothest he could probably find on that dead tree, which he had just snapped clean off with his bare fucking hands. And was now bringing to Jiang Cheng, like a proud puppy with a ridiculously oversized stick. Seriously. Seriously.

Jiang Cheng wanted to scream.

Instead, he very carefully grabbed the branch to deposit it inside the boat. Damn, but that thing was huge.

“So, is this one enough, or do you need anoth—”

“Shut up.”

Lan Xichen’s mouth snapped shut.

Jiang Cheng held out his hand imperiously. “Give me your arm.”

The merman raised wide eyes toward Jiang Cheng, a confused little frown pulling at his lips. “What —”

“I said,” Jiang Cheng growled, “give. Me. Your. Arm.” When the merman just kept staring at him uncertainly, he burst out, “Oh my god, you ridiculous dolphin, just come here already!”

Apparently deciding to trust Jiang Cheng despite his obvious bout of temporary insanity, Lan Xichen slowly approached and extended one of his arms towards him. With a wary look, he mumbled, “Dolphins aren’t even —”

“Shut up! I know they’re not,” Jiang Cheng snapped. With a tug, Lan Xichen’s arm was promptly brought over the edge of the boat for closer inspection, forcing the merman to grab the rim with his other hand for balance. He took the rough treatment without complaint, looking perplexed.

Jianf Cheng started with his hand, working his way up to the shoulder progressively. He carefully examined the webbed fingers (hadn’t noticed that, either), then poked and prodded at the wrist (all normal, same rotation as a human’s), the forearm (pale and muscular), the elbow (yup, just a regular elbow), the upper arm… Hm. Well, outside of it being pretty thickly toned, he couldn’t find anything. Why couldn’t he find anything? There was clearly something funky going on with this man’s arms, because no one, human or merman, should be able to win a contest with a boulder or rip an entire trunk off of a —

The merman cleared his throat.

It was then that Jiang Cheng realized with horror that he’d been… he’d been groping the poor man for several minutes, holding him in place and squeezing his biceps and just generally pawing at him like —

He dropped the limb immediately, feeling his face heat up with a vengeance and trying to hide it behind a scowl. “What?” he barked. “Don’t look at me like that! You’re the one who’s freaky!”

Unruffled, Lan Xichen offered, “Perhaps if you told me what you were looking for…?”

Jiang Cheng gaped. “Well, your —!” He paused, then flailed in the general direction of the fallen tree. “That thing you did! Twice! With the tree, and the… the rocks!”

“Ah,” the merman nodded in dawning comprehension. “Yes. It has been said that we of the Lan family have been blessed with unusual arm strength.”

“Excuse me, ‘unusual’? More like fucking monstrous, let’s be honest here — but I, uh, mean that in the best way, of course,” he amended hurriedly when Lan Xichen sent him a stricken look.

The merman lowered his gaze, lips wobbling.

Ah, shit. Goddammit, Jiang Cheng had really stepped in it this time. Calling a merman a monster, not even two seconds after molesting him, and after he’d been so disgustingly nice to him, too? Pathetic. Disgraceful. Despicable.

“Come on, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry,” he tried.

A tiny sniff, barely audible behind the curtain of hair that fell before the merman’s bowed face.

Oh, no. “Lan Xichen, please,” Jiang Cheng coaxed, quickly getting desperate. “I’m sorry, I promise that’s not… It’s not what I…” He scrubbed his hands over his face “Ugh! I don’t know what to say,” he lamented.

Lan Xichen peeked at him shyly from behind his sleek tresses. “Maybe if you gave me another compliment…?”

Jiang Cheng opened his mouth, the words already halfway out, before he snapped it shut and squinted suspiciously at the merman.

He braced his hands on the edge of the boat and leaned even closer.

There! That glimmer in his eye, that was —!

“Lan Xichen! Are you screwing with me right now?!”

But the merman was incapable of answering, already howling with laughter, his façade collapsing in less than an instant. Jiang Cheng stared. Lan Xichen’s laugh was loud and uncontrolled, little snorts slipping out now and then, though he tried to hide them behind his slightly webbed hands — all for naught, as the crinkle in his eyes betrayed his glee with no hope of concealment.

Jiang Cheng was mesmerized. As Lan Xichen’s laughter settled into quieter giggles, he felt something take flight in his heart, or in his gut, or maybe in some other, equally ridiculous internal organ with asinine romantic connotations.

Whatever.

He felt like he should be mad — the little shit had emotionally manipulated him just now, and so skillfully too! He’d bought into his charade hook, line and sinker (ha!) — but no. He felt… proud, maybe? Fond, definitely. And awed, maybe, by this creature, by this meeting, by the improbable set or circumstances that had led to it.

He shook his head, his lips tugging up in a helpless smile, never taking his eyes off the merman now clinging to his boat once more.

“Lan Xichen,” he breathed, almost reverently, “you are something else.”

When the merman reached for his hand, he didn’t offer any resistance (turnabout was fair play, after all). Lan Xichen laced their fingers together over the edge of the boat, right in the middle, like a symbol. “But you mean that in the best way, of course,” he stated solemnly, his voice wobbling with yet more laughter.

Jiang Cheng couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that escaped him then, or the grin that settled over his face. He took a moment to marvel at that, and squeezed the hand clutching his. “Of course. The very best.”

#xichenweek2020 #mdzs fic #my fic #seachen #xicheng

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theonceoverthinker · 5 years ago

Text

When Will My Life Begin? (Fair Game, 3/?)

Tumblr: (1) (2) (B1)

Summary: Tangled AU. Clover Callows has been confined to a tower for all of his life, and given the threat that his Uncle Tyrian says his semblance poses to his safety, he accepts that fate. It’s the only life he’s ever known, after all. But when he’s offered the opportunity to fulfill his greatest dream after a chance encounter with a thief -- or bandit, as Qrow Branwen insists there’s a difference between the two -- both Clover and Qrow will discover joys that they never knew life could offer them before. AO3

A/N: By some Passover/Easter miracle, this chapter is actually on time!!!! Wahoo!!! I don't know what it was, but this chapter was both super easy and super hard to write! Here’s hoping it’s decent!

()()()()()()()()

Qrow Branwen always considered himself to be a...complicated man.

That was the easiest explanation he had for why he was preparing to scale the walls of the most celebrated general in Remnant’s home at seven thirty in the morning.

Thankfully, while so much of his life was complicated, this plan would be nice and easy.

There was a brooch all but asking to be stolen and he was a bandit, all but asking for something to steal.

Really, nothing could be simpler.

And once this heist got going, that simplicity would play out nice and smoothly.

Now where the hell was Mercury with that distraction so it could start, already?

Remnant’s streets were as busy and noisy as they ever were. All around, shopkeepers were making deals with their customers, friends were visiting friends, children were playing all manner of games, and street performers were singing for their supper. For most of his typical goings ons, a situation like that was a good thing. More people out and about meant more things for people to balance keeping an eye on, and if a trinket, a loaf of bread, or some coins got lost in the shuffle of the usual crowds, they wouldn’t be missed until it was far too late to do anything about it.

However, while that business often made for a good environment in his line of work, in a case like this where he was scaling walls in broad daylight, discretion was key to success. So, for an occasion like this, he needed a more artificial way of pulling the attention of the masses away from him, and that way came in the form of a distraction by one Mercury Black.

Still, even though he was sure the distraction wouldn't fail, he was annoyed that they had to rely on one in the first place. Qrow had wanted to do this heist last night -- “you know, when people are asleep,” he argued -- but his accomplice insisted they wait until the morning to start. He had no idea what could’ve possibly been more important than completing this heist, nor what had to have possessed him to agree to forego his nighttime plan. It certainly would’ve been easier than what they were doing now!

This, Qrow reminded himself, is why he preferred to work alone.

Yes, it wasn’t common for Qrow to work on a team -- he was a good enough bandit on his own and less people meant less profit splitting -- but when there was a brooch encrusted with Remnant’s purest emeralds as primed for the taking as was the one situated in General Ironwood’s heavily guarded home, there were suddenly all sorts of things Qrow Branwen found he was willing to do.

That brooch…

With the money he could get from a brooch like that, Qrow would never have to worry about money ever again.

In fact, with the money he could get from a brooch like that, he’d never have to worry about anything ever again.

Now that would be just the kind of break he so desperately needed.

All he had to do to get it was just wait for the signal and then do what he did best.

From the shadowed portion of the alley he was hiding in, Qrow glared in the general direction he knew Mercury’s distraction would come from, as if that glare would somehow will the distraction into existence.

And suddenly, as if the universe itself were abiding by his request, a loud and messy boom of a sound made itself known from the other side of the alley’s wall -- the far-too-long-for-Qrow’s-liking sought after signal.

It was about damn time.

Qrow counted off the seconds as panicked noises emerged in droves, crescendoing, only to then gradually soften as they moved further and further away from Qrow to investigate the strange noise. When Qrow reached fifty, he slowly started climbing up the house’s walls. He checked to make sure the coast was clear and upon seeing that everyone’s attention -- even including most of Ironwood’s guards, with more exiting the house -- was elsewhere, he continued climbing, now daring to speed up, knowing he wouldn’t be noticed.

He had to hand it to Mercury: the guy and those boots of his were pretty effective as a distraction, and Qrow knew as he hastened to finish his climb up the house’s wall that that very distraction would hold well until their job was done.

The top floor window of the General’s home was closed tightly with a decorative piece of stained glass depicting the brooch with a glowing sunset behind it.

To call the stained glass beautiful would be an understatement. In truth, it was a masterpiece, with every detail of the piece so intricately crafted, and though Qrow was by no means an art critic, even he knew that the glassblower, whoever they were, had certainly outdone themselves here.

It was a shame though that such a magnificent piece stood in his way.

Quickly, Qrow took the satchel at his side, pressed it up against the glass, and punched it as hard as he could at different angels three times.The first time cracked most of it and even sent a few shards of glass tumbling down the other side of the window. The second time shattered much of the glass on the other side, just enough to create a hole he could feasibly get though. And the third time left the window completely destroyed, ensuring that his exit would leave no room for complications.

Again, Qrow was a complicated man, but that didn’t mean his schemes had to be.

Qrow climbed through the window and examined the room. Despite the bright, pale green colored walls of the room and how full it was, there was a certain moroseness to it too that couldn’t be ignored. It was enough to even give Qrow pause for the barest of seconds before he started to look for the brooch.

The room had quite a lot of things in it -- toys, old furniture, crates full of supplies and the like. To anyone else, finding the brooch in here would’ve been as easy as finding a needle in a haystack.

However, Qrow wasn’t just anyone. He was a bandit, and a damn good one.

Qrow looked to the floors of the room. There were messes all along them. However, one section of the room directly to his left was spared a mess in front of it and it just so happened that that one section gave way to a wide drawer.

He was starting to wonder just how Ironwood managed to become a general with a hiding spot as transparent as that.

It almost felt unfair taking the brooch under such easy circumstances.

However, ‘almost’ was the key word in that sentiment.

Qrow made his way over to the drawer and looked at the three brass handles that each drawer held. The top and middle drawers were a dark copper color, but the bottom had a hint of shininess to it, implying it was used more often than the others.

Honestly, he’d opened lockless doors more challenging than that deduction was.

And speaking of locks...

There was a lock on the top right side of the bottom drawer, clearly a final obstacle between anyone and the brooch. It also likely served a second purpose -- notifying Ironwood if the brooch’s hiding spot had been discovered by thieves. Whithout the help of a key, whatever thief who had made it this far was likely to make noise trying to open the lock with a whatever they had on hand, or if they were truly dumb enough, they might try to go deeper into the house to try to find the key’s location.

But Qrow wasn’t noisy, nor was he dumb, and he certainly wasn’t a thief.

From his belt, Qrow reached for his weapon, Harbinger and removed it from his sheath. Once in his hand, Qrow flicked Harbinger, unfolding it.

Qrow was a complicated man -- it only made sense that his weapon would be too, and Harbinger was nothing if not complicated all the way from its inception to its design. Much like the bones of an arm, Harbinger was a scythe able to fold and unfold itself thanks to metal screws that acted as joints, and both of its forms served a different purpose. When it was folded, it ensured stronger blows and made for a handy makeshift shield, acting as almost more of a sword than a scythe, and when it was unfolded, it served the purposes of giving his attacks and abilities range and flexibility.

But while quite the wondrous weapon in its own right, Harbinger had an additional secret ability in the tip of it in its unfolded state.

In that state, its tip was just the perfect size to use as a lockpick, and Qrow wouldn’t even have to bend down to use it.

Really, this was too, too easy.

All the same though, Qrow wasn’t about to argue with an easy victory. He swung Harbinger back and forth in just the way he knew would unlock the drawer. The resulting click when it did was music to Qrow’s ears.

Qrow took Harbinger out of the drawer’s lock and used it to pull open the drawer at the handle.

And there, just as he knew it would be, was the brooch.

Folding and putting Harbinger away, Qrow looked at the brooch. The little bits of sunlight that reflected off of the broken stained glass shards on the floor made the brooch’s emeralds shimmer, making it look even more priceless than it already was.

All it took was one long look for Qrow to know that that brooch was going to make him a very rich man.

And it was all so easy...that is, until it wasn’t.

“Step away from the brooch now.”

Without saying a word, Qrow turned around to see the room’s new occupant and spotted a young woman, about his age, standing in the actual door to the room’s open frame. She had a steely gaze, hair that formed the abstract, yet still present shape of two bunny ears, and two large gauntlets in her hands.

He recognized her immediately -- Harriet, General Ironwood’s oldest daughter.

And she recognized him. It was obvious and not at all surprising. After all, one didn’t become the greatest bandit in all of Remnant without gaining something of a reputation. Apparently, that reputation had spread all the way to the top of the pecking order.

He almost had to wonder now if the king knew about him. Wouldn’t that be funny?

“You’ve stolen more than you ever should’ve from our kingdom, Branwen,” Harriet continued, eyes flaring and tone hitching up slightly, still firm but also somewhat desperate too, “but I swear, on my honor as a knight of the royal guard, that you will not get this brooch!”

A smirk crossed Qrow’s features as he mapped out his next moves. “Oh, I think you’ll find that I will,” he said, and with not a single beat passing between him and his pursuer, he grabbed the brooch in one fluid notion. “You know,” he continued, swiftly making for the room’s window, carefully avoiding every piece of broken glass in his path, “you shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

And as soon as Qrow’s final words left his mouth, he jumped out of the window with an air about him so casual that one would almost believe he was just visiting for tea if not for his unorthodox exit.

Qrow grabbed onto the house’s outer wall, just as he did on his climb up, and turned his head to look behind him. The roof of the next house over was a simple jump over, and Qrow wasted no time taking the leap. He continued rushing across the rooftops one by one.

As Qrow ran ahead, shoving the brooch into his satchel, he took notice of the multiple sounds following him.

There were the gasps of people who had now noticed his presence from atop the roofs of houses he now ran on.

There was the boom of what Qrow could only assume was another explosion courtesy of Mercury’s boots in an attempt to keep the attention of those who hadn’t seen him yet.

But the worst -- not to mention, the loudest -- came in the form of Harriet’s shouts.

“Come back here, Branwen!” she cried.

God, was she annoying.

He had a feeling when he and Mercury first came up with this plan that she’d be the worst part of his day.

And with any luck...he’d be the worst part of hers.

Qrow looked behind him, back at the window, and much to his lack of surprise, he could see Harriet glowing yellow.

It didn’t take a genius to know what that meant.

In all his time stealing his way through Remnant, Qrow had been fortunate enough to not have a direct run-in with Harriet before, or those siblings of hers, for that matter. Like himself, they had a reputation of their own as specialized knights all apprenticed directly under General Ironwood himself. Because of General Ironwood’s renown and his children’s talents, they were considered to be Remnant’s top knights, and many took to calling them the Ace Ops.

However, just because Qrow never had the misfortune to meet them, it didn’t mean he intended to go about his days in their territory blind to his biggest threats.

And of course, learning about them meant learning about their semblances too, and Harriet was just about to use hers.

In the two seconds Qrow spent looking at the window before turning his attention back to the roofs, he saw Harriet rush out the window and in his direction, getting closer and closer by the second.

Speed semblances...what a pain in the ass they could be…

But Qrow also knew quite a lot about pain in the ass semblances, and now felt like just the right time to use his.

Thinking quickly, Qrow took a sharp right turn and leapt onto an adjacent rooftop, running in a direction that was very familiar to him.

Harriet was catching up fast, but Qrow kept his lead.

All he had to do was go a little bit further.

There were just two houses to go.

A shout from Harriet boomed just after he got across the first one.

More gasps sprinkled his path as he passed by the second one.

Then, as Qrow reached the roof he was looking for, he was met with a very welcoming creak. He listened wholly to the sound, looked closely at its qualities, and spent the two seconds he had with it focusing all his energy into everything he had gleaned about the wood in that short time. When he was finally done with the step, a smirk crossed his face.

She was done for.

Without stopping, Qrow ran past the rooftop and onto the next one. When he arrived at that rooftop, for the first time since he began, he stopped running and turned, looking backwards once more. Harriet was just two houses away from him.

“It’s over, Branwen,” she growled as she ran across the first rooftop. Qrow simply stood there and watched, his smirk staying perfectly in place.

Harriet smirked right back at him and she ran onto the next rooftop.

But that smirk, just as quickly as it appeared, jumped off her face as the rooftop she stood atop caved in on itself.

Qrow released a dark chuckle and slowly approached the wrecked scene. Harriet struggled under the wood of the roof, her torso trapped under a large support beam. She looked like a turtle stuck on its back, and it was all Qrow could do not to laugh...so he didn’t even try not to.

Still, Qrow knew from experience that the support beam of that roof was quite rotted and clearly not big nor strong enough to kill or even seriously injure her. That said, he also knew that it was all the same more than enough to keep her occupied under it for a nice, nice while.

“You’re right!” Qrow called. “It is over, just not for me. Must be your unlucky day.”

“Branwen!” Harriet shouted.

“Hey! Not my fault the kingdom doesn't invest enough into local infrastructure!” Qrow replied, the now devilish smirk on his face still present, betraying any innocence his mocking tone may have had. “Let’s just thank the Gods that no one lives there, and that you’re safe and secure under that beam!”

Harriet’s eyes flared at the jests. She glowed yellow, clearly trying to use her semblance to free herself, but to no avail. “Stop him!” she then yelled, likely to her guards, but from the view Qrow had of the town, it looked to be towards no one in particular.

This was almost going to be too easy.

But still aware that guards would be on his tail soon, so as not to tempt fate any more than he already had, Qrow gave the sight below him a final snort before taking off on his current course once more.

With a moment to take for himself at last in his gras, Qrow lowered himself from the next low-to-the-ground rooftop he could find and landed in another deserted alleyway. He placed a hand against one of the alley’s walls, taking laborious breaths only kept quiet thanks to years of on-the-job training. In his line of work, too much noise was the difference between a full belly and a jail cell.

A few minutes passed as Qrow calculated the rest of his escape. He still had at least a mile’s run to get out of the town and into the forest, and of course, distance wasn’t the only thing he had to take into consideration, not by a long shot.

As if on cue, one of those things made themselves known. The sudden sound of metal clashing with stone from behind him had Qrow freeze in place.

“Finally,” a voice spoke from out of his line of sight. “Managed to catch up to you.”

Qrow remained frozen, but only for another half a second as he realized who he was speaking to.

When he finally did, all he could do was roll his eyes and remind himself that this was why he worked alone as he turned around and greeted his accomplice.

“Gods, can you run,” Mercury continued, taking deep breaths of his own, though completely devoid of the hushedness that Qrow had long since mastered.

“Well, if we did this at night like I said we should, you probably wouldn’t have had to run like that. But no. For some asinine reason, it had to be done in broad daylight, and I cannot for the life of me understand why.”

Mercury grunted and shrugged. “I was busy, and we’ve all gotta do what we’ve gotta do. Even a thief like you understands that, right?”

“A thief like me,” Qrow mocked through a scoff. “I know this wasn’t your first time doing this either. And I’m a bandit. There’s a difference.”

“I don’t have your reputation,” Mercury shot back. “And no, there isn’t.”

“As I’ll remind you, it’s thanks to that reputation that we’re about to make enough money to buy our own thieves to argue over this stuff. And yes, there is.”

Suddenly, Qrow grew quiet and signaled to Mercury to do the same as he listened to the sounds coming from the streets. He could hear a number of footsteps stepping in a way he knew well.

Guards were approaching.

“We have to get out of here, and fast,” Qrow whispered. He looked ahead, and upon finding their best option, gestured to Mercury to follow as he headed in that direction.

For three brief minutes, they were able to retain their anonymity and walk through the streets innocently-seeming enough.

However, at the sight of one of the general’s knights and the gleam of recognition she held in her eyes, Qrow knew that anonymity was as good as gone.

The knight called for backup and the sound of hastening footsteps had Qrow and Mercury once more rushing through the streets.

While the whole affair should’ve had Qrow terrified of being caught, it was a sense of anticipation and well-earned confidence that he found himself to be stricken with as he ran away from the guards.

This was one hell of a way to spend a morning, and in just a few hours, he’d be out of this village, at the black market, and swimming in money.

And maybe then, he could actually do something worthwhile with his life for a change.

...Well, Qrow wasn’t lying when he called himself a complicated man.

#fair game #rwby #qrow branwen #mercury black #tangled au

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