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xmint-conditionx · 3 years

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☆ flanked ☆ prologue | knj

(verb) flank -

guard or strengthen (a military force or position) from the side.

attack down or from the sides, or rake with gunfire from the sides.

☆ pairing: soldier!namjoon x widow!reader; namjoon x fem!reader ☆ word count: 2K ☆ summary: you’re a recently widowed military spouse who is stationed at camp walker, south korea. you’re dealing with the tragedy of your husband’s recent death, and in the process, you accidentally meet a k-pop idol you’ve had a crush on for years. who knew you’d both be at the same post while he’s doing his compulsory service? who knew he’d be so damn nice? who knew it would be impossible to get him out of your head? ☆ warnings: mentions of death, public embarrassment, military death, adult language ☆ a/n: hey everyone c:i’m really happy to be reuploading this fic; i’m going to set a goal of updating it once a month. this is my baby, and i want to do it right, so if it doesn’t come as predictably as i want it to, apologies in advance, but i really hope you enjoy what i have!

this fic starts of intense and will only get more intense. i very much recommend double checking the warnings list because there’s gonna be some pretty heavy stuff in the prologue here and going forward. please do keep in mind that this is purely fiction and i do not want (most of) this to actually happen to anyone. it won’t all be sad though, promise! i mean it’s namjoon we’re talking about: the biggest goofball on the planet. there will be eventual smut, but we have to build up to it, now don’t we? thanks luv, enjoy!

Here you are, in the quaint little convenience store and dry cleaning shop right outside of post, on just another cloudy Winter Wednesday. However, today is a little different, because you have made it to the front of the line and have begun violently crying. Not one of those shedding a single tear cries, but a terrible cry that has taken hold of your entire body. A shaking, snot-faucet, fist-clenching cry. Nothing truly lamentable has happened, except for an inability to recall the Korean word for receipt. You’ve lived at Camp Walker for just shy of two years, so it’s safe to say your ineffectiveness in vocalizing your needs isn’t for lack of knowledge. Despite your quickly-grasped and quite thorough knowledge of the language, the overwhelming sadness and anger you possess about your situation somehow has evaporated away all your Hangul proficiency. Which has left you looking utterly incompetent. Of course a breakdown is in order. All you needed to do was pick up your dead husband’s dress blues for fucks sake, but you can’t remember how to speak and now you’re embarrassing yourself and wasting this poor lady’s time and why does this have to be so goddamn difficult.

The people behind you in line are now beginning to stare in a strange mix of confusion, concern, irritation, and apprehension. Perfect. You exit the line and begin sputtering out desperate attempts at the lost word, so entirely wrapped up in your own stupid brain that you fail to register the approach of a tall man in an American style ACU. A deep and calm voice eases out of the truly tree-sized man in front of you.

“Ma’am, do you need some help?” he asks.

Your vision is tear-ruined and the last thing you want is pity. Pity is exhausting.

“Oh, you’re gonna help the poor little sad girl, huh?” you spit out at him, not even bothering to look up, “just tell me the fucking word for receipt please. That’s all I need.”

Despite your downright rudeness, the man replies without hesitation. “Yeongsujeung. Are you sure that’s all I can help you with?” You look over towards the counter to see that the lady has begun helping other customers, and you really aren’t looking forward to waiting in line again. No pity, you remind yourself, so you shake your head at the man and meekly muster out a “gamsahabnida” as you stare at the floor, too embarrassed at your lack of composure to make eye contact with your new acquaintance.

He just sighs and says, “Ma’am, would you mind if I stood in line for you? It might feel good if you sat down for a minute. I promise it’s not a hassle. I’m here to get my dry cleaning too.”

Jesus Christ, what is this guy? Some kind of mind reader? Who is that observant? Or are you just that obvious? You really, really don’t want more help. That’s all people have been trying to do for the past week. Coming by your house with food, offering to walk your dog, so many informational pamphlets about therapy, every person saying that they can be a listening ear if you need it. But you don’t. You just want to be left alone already. Nothing anyone has said has been comforting, because they don’t actually know what it’s like. They just don’t get it. And it’s nice that they want to help and are actually trying, but fuck. It mostly just makes things worse. But your head hurts from the exertion of crying, and that’s all it takes to convince you that you might actually want to sit down.

You wipe your eyes and finally feel like you’re allowed to really breathe again. You look up at the kind man to thank him once more, this time more sincerely, and in that instant, you’re sure you’ve gone insane. That’s got to be it. The death of your husband has thrown you completely off your rocker. That’s the only explanation for what stands before you. You’ve finally had a full psychotic break and are currently hallucinating in the corner store. You’d honestly burst out laughing if your throat wasn’t raw, because standing in front of you is a man who looks remarkably like Kim Namjoon.

You haven’t thought about this man in years, and his dark shorter haircut instead of his usual longer locks is probably the most confusing matter about the whole thing, oddly enough. You recall in your mind the photocard you have of him from when you bought one of their albums several years ago. The luscious long blonde hair in the photo is shockingly different to the style that he’s sporting now. If it weren’t for his signature dimple greeting you alongside his small sincere grin, you’d almost have never recognized him.

Oh my god. And now you’re standing in front of him, and he’s standing in front of you, and he’s so much taller than you thought he would be, and you’re having a meltdown in a cornerstore, and he’s so much more handsome in person, and now you’re staring into each other's eyes and this can’t be happening.

It can’t really be him. You’ve just gone completely mental. You know the leader of BTS began his compulsory military service about a year and a half ago, but the chances of you crossing paths is still nearly impossible. You begin to tell yourself that he’s just a doppelgänger and your recent distress and suffering has made your brain desperate for serotonin. It can’t really be him. You’re just crazy now. That would be easier to deal with, at least.

You half don’t believe it’s him and half don’t want to believe it’s him. If it is him, you sure as hell don’t want to make the interaction any more weird than it’s already been. If it’s not him, you’d only be embarrassing yourself further. The best, and really, only course of action to take at this point, because you absolutely do not trust your words, is just to nod your head and avert your gaze as you walk to the little bench by the door. You try to focus your thoughts on literally anything other than your brain’s manifestation of a pop star. It almost doesn’t happen, but as peace comes, you mentally thank yourself for your long-time practice of mindfulness. It would have been an impossible task had you never done this before. By the time he gets to the front, you’ve successfully managed to calm down and focus on your breathing. You’ve got yourself convinced the man simply looks similar to Namjoon, and that’s it. Nothing to get worked up about.

As you rejoin the man, he greets you with another warm grin and gestures to the counter. Shit. Are you ready to talk again? He’s insisting you go first, and you notice the little dimple poke out again. His lips are so… pillowy. Oh god, are you staring? You shake loose of his grasp on you and in practically perfect Korean, apologize to the lady for before, tell her the last name and details on the order, and tell her you’re sorry about misplacing the receipt from drop off with the order number on it because it’s... been a really long week. She nods, seeming relieved you didn’t burst into tears again and goes in the back to search for your items.

The tall serviceman next to you now speaks to you in Korean. “That was impressive. You’ve been here for a long time?”

“Only two years.”

“Well I suppose you really didn’t need my help then,” he says and chuckles a little. “I’m glad to see sitting down was able to help you relax.”

The lady hands over the dry cleaning and you thank her. As you pay, tears begin to swell in your eyes again. You’re holding the things your husband will be buried in. You can’t stop yourself from picturing it all… the funeral, his cold body, whether you’ll have to hold a closed casket ceremony, his poor mom, how long the receiving line is going to be, whether he would want flowers or not, wondering if you’ll be able to put his little award stripes on his suit jacket in the right order or if you’re going to have to get help… again.

Being so wrapped up in your thoughts, you don’t notice your new acquaintance giving the lady his ticket. He turns to you after she’s walked in the back.

“Lucky husband, getting his dress uniform picked up for him. You really know how to spoil a man, huh?” The seemingly innocent comment shoots fire through your veins. The woman returns with his dry cleaning and they go through payment as you let the anger boil inside of you. He is oblivious to the metaphorical bombs going off inside your body. You stare a hole into the man’s head as you spit out “My husband is fucking dead.”

You turn to leave and don’t look back, not giving him a chance to process your revelation. He makes the connection a moment too late, but he’s quick to catch up with you in the parking lot, this time speaking English. “Ma’am please let me apologize. I didn’t realize...”

You continue walking to your car; you don’t want to look at him again. “I don’t need an apology from you. It doesn’t matter.”

“Please, I had no idea. I was trying to make small talk; I never would have said that-“

You whir around and glare at him. You were done. “I get it, okay? Just stop feeling sorry for me already. I’m tired of it. Thank you for waiting in line for me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a fucking funeral to plan.” The words come flying out and with each new sentence, you see him recoil again and again. His eyes are full of remorse and... understanding? You hold his gaze longer than you wanted to, and time stands still. What are you doing?

You’re fumbling with your keys, trying to manage the electronic key fob to unlock your car. He takes this opportunity to scribble some words and numbers on a paper he has clumsily fished out of one of his many uniform pockets and extends it out to you. Is he really trying to give you his number right now?! You’d be really flattered that a man this attractive is making a pass at you, if you hadn’t, you know, just told him your husband fucking died. You furrow your brows and roll your eyes, ready to chew him out again.

“Here, this is the name and address for a group therapy session on post for people who have gone through recent loss. We meet on Thursdays. I don’t know how much longer you’ll be in Korea, but you’d be welcome. I promise.”

You just stare at him dumbly, unable to process this information. Therapy? You’d been given so many pamphlets on loss that it made your head spin. The only thing that thoughts of therapy has done for you in the past week has brought up terrible associations.

“Please. Take it.”

His eyes are pleading. You can’t bear to see the desperation any longer. Breaking away from his heavy gaze, you take the scrap of paper. With one last thank you, you get in your sedan, throw the dry cleaning into the passenger seat, and lock the doors.

With your head in your hands, you start to cry again. Why do you have to be so mean? Thinking of the man, you turn to look in the rear-view mirror with a gentle hope that he’s still behind your car. You don’t know why you’re disappointed when he isn’t.

Thursday is tomorrow. You can make it until then.

#bts smut #bts imagines #namjoon x you #namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #soldier!namjoon #military!au #idol!namjoon #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fic

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densi-mber · 3 years

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Frozen, Part 2

A/N: Here’s the second part of Frozen. In the first part, Kensi and Deeks were trapped in the cold after hunting down some suspects. Deeks was also injured.

***

“Oh my god, babe, how could you not feel this?” Kensi asked, kneeling in front of Deeks with his shirt peeled up to chest. Fortunately the cut wasn’t terribly deep, but it was bad enough. Bad enough to have soaked through his shirt already.

“I feel it now,” Deeks said, yelping as she pressed down on the wound. “Actually, that really hurts. Stop poking it!”

“I’m trying to see how bad it is.”

“Well, your warm little hands are heating it up and now it’s burning.”

Her hands were anything but warm and his blood was actually starting to freeze on his skin and clothes.

“Ok, I’m going to put a bandage on this, see if you can get through to Eric,” she told him. She slipped off the small backpack which had a bare minimum of supplies, including a first-aid kit. She tossed an extra pair of gloves to Deeks while he called Eric and then ripped open a bandage.

“No signal,” he said a minute later, shaking his head.

“Damn it!” They couldn’t stay out here for much longer without any protection, especially with Deeks being wounded. She glanced at him, noticing that the tips of his ears were bright red and if she wasn’t mistaken, his lips were just the slightest bit blue. “Deeks, what happened to your hat?” she snapped, realizing that his hair was damp and loose around his face.

“I had to take it off cause I couldn’t hear anything and I lost it somewhere along the way,” he answered with a shrug. Kensi muttered under her breath, realizing how accusatory she sounded.

“I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” She grabbed his hand by way of apology, glancing around them.

“We need to start moving, Kens.”

“You really think we’re going to make it five miles in this cold?” she asked rhetorically. “And it’s only going to get worse in a couple hours.”

“No, I don’t think we’ll make it that far, but I remember Nell saying something about there being a bunch of old cabins around here,” he said with the barest of grins.

***

Have I ever-ah-mentioned how much I hate Iowa?” Deeks asked casually, pausing in between words to pull in shallow breaths. “We would never be in danger of freezing to death in Los Angeles.”

Despite his efforts to stay positive, the cold was definitely starting to get to him. His toes and fingers were stiff, although he supposed it was a good sign that they were still burning and not numb.

Plus, though he hadn’t dared mentioned it Kensi, exhaustion was starting to set in. His legs felt heavy and his abdomen somehow ached and felt numb at the same time. It was a disconcerting sensation.

“With our luck we’d get locked in an industrial freezer or something,” Kensi said with forced lightness, pausing in between words to breath. Her arms were firm around him, making sure he didn’t stumble over hidden tree roots and rocks.

“I think I saw that on a show once.”

“Cabin.”

“No, it was called Castle. You know, the one with Nathan Fillion where he’s a writer and-“

“No, there’s a cabin,” Kensi repeated, cutting off his tangent, and pointing to an area maybe a couple hundred feet away. Sure enough, there was a small cabin buried in a dense copse of trees.

“Fantastic,” he muttered. As they moved closer, it looked completely uninhabited and probably for some time, based on the piles of snow, debris around the doorway, and cobwebs in the windows.

Kensi cleared the snow away from one of the windows and peered in.

“It doesn’t look like there’s anyone inside. C’mon.” She shouldered the door open, which stuck a little, but eventually gave way with a loud creak.

“Very homey,” Deeks commented, shivering as they walked into the small space which was barely warmer than outside. It was pretty barren with jut a single cot and bare mattress that had definitely seen better days, a splintered cupboard with a couple pots on top, and most importantly, a fireplace.

“Sit down, I’m going to look for some blankets and firewood,” Kensi directed him.

“I can help,” he offered, feeling pretty stupid just standing there. It was partially his fault they were in this situation. If he’d been a little more careful, he wouldn’t have gotten stabbed. “The faster we heat this place up, the less chance we have of becoming popsicles.”

Kensi shook her head, already searching through the cupboard. She pulled out a box of instant potatoes and a can of beans and set them to the side.

“And the more you move around, the more you’ll aggravate your wound.” She turned back to look at him with another can of beans and Campbell’s chicken soup in her hands. The faded labels on both made Deeks think they’d been sitting there untouched for several years. “Are you saying you don’t have faith in my fire building skills?”

Her breath puffed out in a great white cloud as she attempted to keep her teeth from chattering. He could tell the cold was getting to her too, but predictably, she was ignoring it.

“I would never,” he said, dropping his backpack beside the cot. “Kensi Marie Blye’s survival skills are world renowned and-agh!” He’d sat down and his cut gave a painful, tearing sensation. Kensi spun around immediately at his scream, but he waved her off, ignoring the fresh gush of blood he felt seeping into his shirt. “I’m fine. I just sat down too fast. Did you find any blankets?”

She gave him a suspicious look, turning back to the cupboard, and pulling out some more random items before she made a triumphant sound.

“Three,” she said, throwing him a grayish bundle. “They look a little thin, but I guess it’s better than nothing. Ok, I’ll get some fire wood and then we’re bandaging your cut again. Don’t touch it until I get back.”

Deeks rolled his eyes at her instructions, which seemed a little ridiculous given the severity of said cut, but didn’t protest. He knew Kensi was worried and felt better knowing where he was.

After a few minutes, he stood up again and started pacing, trying to force some feeling into his legs. He tucked his hands under his armpits, singing “Staying Alive” to himself until his voice grew hoarse. Every few seconds, a blast of wind tore through the cabin and blew in bits of snow through minute cracks in the walls and ceiling.

Just as he was getting ready to go after Kensi, the door slammed open again, and she stumbled in with a giant armload of logs and branches.

“I found some wood,” she said unnecessarily as he rushed to help her. “There’s a shack about half a mile from here filled with chopped wood. I left another pile outside.” Her entire face was red and wind-chapped and Deeks wanted to demand she immediately get in bed and cover up.

Since that didn’t seem likely to happen, he brought in the rest of the wood while she was distracted with building a fire. By the time he finished, his hands were completely numb, his clothes completely wet and sticking to his skin.

As Kensi finished lighting the fire, he noticed her hands shaking uncontrollably, making her movements jerky and uncoordinated. She’d spent even more time outside, completely unprotected. She fumbled with the lighter a couple times before she managed to set the kindling on top of the logs aflame.

He grabbed one of her hands between his and rubbed them, wincing at the bright red color, and nearly white tips of her fingers.

“Baby, we need to get you warmed up,” he said, starting to get truly worried about hypothermia. Even with the fire, it would tale at least a couple hours before the cabin was warm.

“I’m fine Deeks,” she insisted, tugging her fingers from his. Ignoring his concern, Kensi grabbed her bag again, pulling out more first aid supplies. “Take your coat and shirt off.”

Deeks reluctantly pulled off both, knowing Kensi would probably freak out when she saw how much he’d bled. His shirt stuck a little, tacky with drying and frozen blood. He had to admit that the cut looked nasty with varied levels of dried blood smeared all around. As the cold air hit it full force again, it started burning more intensely.

Surprisingly, Kensi didn’t say anything when she leaned over him. She dabbed away the fresh blood with a couple cotton swabs and then tore open a packet of liquid bandage.

“Can you hold the edges together?” she asked. That sounded awful as far as Deeks was concerned, but he followed her directions, putting pressure on either side of the cut while Kensi squeezed the glue-like substance on in small incriminates.

“Ok, I think I’m fine with just bleeding out,” he groaned a few minutes later, the wound burning as the glue seeped in.

“That is not even remotely funny,” Kensi commented tightly. “Besides, I’m almost done.” Her hands were still trembling and a little clumsy. He didn’t comment on her technique though; if a slightly lumpy scar was the worst result of this catastrophe, he’d be a happy man. Kensi insisted on applying a cloth bandage just in case and then she was finally done.

“Ok, now we gotta get you warmed up,” he said as he grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around Kensi’s shoulder and then started tugging off his boots and socks.

“What do you suggest?” Kensi asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“There’s only one option.” He paused with a boot in his head and gave Kensi a serious look. “Naked cuddling.”

#densimber 2020 #densimber 4.0 #densi #densimber day 22 #ncis la fanfiction #Deeks and Kensi whump #by ejzah

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ghost-party · 3 years

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Previous • Next

Pairing: Nanami Kento x OC Word Count: 1.8K Warnings: slightly graphic description of an injury, alcohol, death of a parent, illness A/N: This chapter’s a little longer, because pacing? What’s that? 😂 But I had a lot of fun writing it! The next chapter will probably be from Olivia’s perspective.

It’s Friday again, and by the time Nanami finds himself standing in front of the bookshop, it’s nearly closing time. The shadows on the sidewalk are slowly deepening, and there’s a noticeable chill in the November air. Not for the first time today, he sighs — an almost bone-deep heaving of breath.

What had started out as a simple assignment had ended up being a hassle, to put it mildly. On top of that, he had been injured — a deep slash to his right arm — requiring a brief visit to Ieiri. Although he was now healed, the skin of his forearm smooth and unblemished, the exhaustion lingers.

He glances at his phone and notices several missed texts from Gojo.

Feeling especially not in the mood for the older sorcerer’s antics, Nanami shoves his phone into his pocket and looks up at the storefront. He should have gone home. But without even thinking about it, his feet had carried him here.

When he enters, the bell rings. Unlike last time, the shopkeeper — Olivia, he reminds himself — is standing behind the register. She looks up at him and smiles. “Nanami-san. I didn’t think I’d see you today.”

He notices that she’s counting her drawer, preparing to close for the day, and he hesitates just inside the door. “Is it alright if I come in?”

Olivia nods. “It’s no trouble, really. It’s not like I have a long commute home.” She closes the drawer and walks around the counter, keys in hand. “Feel free to look around. I’ll just lock up behind you.”

He steps aside, giving her space, and he’s suddenly struck by their height difference. He hadn’t noticed when they first met, but when she turns to face him, she has to look up to meet his gaze, the top of her head barely level with his chin.

“Would you like some tea?” Her eyes flit over him in careful assessment before she adds, “Or maybe something stronger? You look like you’ve had a rough day.”

How strange... Even on his worst days, Nanami is more than capable of maintaining his composure — stoic to a fault, some might say. But in a few seconds, she had seen straight through him. It’s almost a relief, to not have to pretend.

He offers her a small smile. “That would be nice.”

They reconvene at the two cozy armchairs, and she offers him a glass of amber liquid. “Bourbon. Hope you don’t mind.” When he accepts it, she raises her own glass to meet his. “Kampai.” He echoes the sentiment and takes a sip, a familiar warmth spreading through his chest.

He sits down beside her and crosses one long leg over the other. “Do you usually drink with customers?”

“No, but there’s a first time for everything.”

He lifts his glass to his lips and notices a slight tremor in his previously-injured arm — a phantom pain that couldn’t be fully erased, even with Ieiri’s reverse cursed technique. He recalls her cold touch, her calm assessment that the cut went straight down to the bone...

“Are you okay?” Olivia’s brow is furrowed, her eyes flicking back and forth between his trembling hand and his face.

“Yes. It’s nothing to worry about.” When she looks unconvinced, he explains, “I had a small mishap at work. Nothing serious.”

When she proceeds to ask him about his work, he struggles to answer. He hates lying. But it’s not as if he can be honest. He manages to string together some simple half-truths. He worked in an office for a while, until he realized it was constant monotony, whole days wasted on unfulfilling tasks. Now he’s a consultant, helping those in tough situations find solutions to their problems. (It’s not the worst comparison, but the vagueness doesn’t sit well with him.)

He finally manages to turn the conversation back to her, and she tells him she used to be an English teacher. A few weeks after she was laid off due to budget cuts, she learned of her father’s cancer diagnosis. It’s clear from the passion in her voice that she misses being in a classroom. But she says she doesn’t mind the slower pace of the bookshop, with its quietude and predictability. And it’s given her more time to write.

She gestures toward the glass decanter between them, and he nods, accepting another shot of bourbon.

“I feel like a bad influence,” she jokes, and he doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol or the sunset glowing behind them, but her cheeks look slightly pink.

“The worst,” he assures her, and her laugh fills him to the brim, suffusing the empty spaces he usually convinced himself weren’t there.

They talk for most of the evening. When he finally walks into his apartment, he’s surprised to see that it’s nearly eleven. He forces himself through his routine, and as he lies in bed, staring at the moonlight filtering through the curtains, he thinks of her laugh. Her steady, attentive gaze when he speaks.

He rolls onto his side and stares at the book he’s added to his growing pile — a collection of short stories she had recommended. There’s his bad habit again... But he finds it hard to feel too guilty.

• • •

As he does with most things, Nanami quickly develops a routine. Every Friday, after completing his work for the day, he goes to the bookshop. Sometimes he wanders through the shelves while Olivia assists other customers — or, if he’s running late, closes up for the evening. But they always end up seated side by side beneath the window, talking for hours.

Initially, he explains it away by acknowledging that he doesn’t have many friends, or at least none outside of work. But he knows it’s more than just that.

When a last-minute work trip prevents him from stopping by one week, she gives him her phone number. Even though his texts are short and to the point, she always replies. He finds himself anticipating their small exchanges, filling the space between one Friday and the next.

Everything he learns about her, he carefully files away, like tiny secrets he’s afraid of forgetting. Her favorite season is autumn, and she’s been enjoying as many early weekend walks around her neighborhood as she can before winter arrives. The tattoo on her left wrist is a small bumblebee — a spontaneous decision made while visiting a college friend in Seattle. She’s been teaching herself how to cook Japanese recipes. The balcony of her apartment is full of well-tended plants. She would love to travel more but isn’t sure when she’ll have the chance. With the exception of his work, he tries to be just as open with her, sharing things about himself he’s rarely talked about.

While their conversations have always felt easy, there is now a closeness between them. It both excites and terrifies him in equal measure.

• • •

On a Friday afternoon in mid-December, Nanami is finishing some paperwork when his phone chimes. He frowns as he reads Olivia’s message.

He types a quick reply and sits there impatiently, until she responds a few minutes later.

He’s unconvinced, but he doesn’t want to push. Instead, he sets his phone aside and resumes typing. But his focus is long gone. When his phone chimes again, he immediately checks his messages.

By the time he replies, he’s already exiting the building.

Half an hour later, he walks to the back of the bookshop and knocks on the door. After a few moments, he hears footsteps, and the lock turns. When Olivia opens the door, she’s wearing a faded volleyball sweatshirt and soft gray pajama pants... and she looks thoroughly exhausted.

“I’m sorry. I should have just ordered in, instead of bothering you...” She stares at the paper bag at his side — much too large for just soup — and looks confused.

“I wasn’t sure what else you needed.”

“Nothing! Seriously. It’s just a cold. I’m fine.” Never mind that her voice is hoarse and she immediately lapses into a coughing fit.

He merely points past her. “Upstairs. Go.”

“But —” she begins to weakly protest, until she sees the hard resolve in his face. With a defeated huff, she slowly climbs the stairs, him following close behind.

Nanami has never actually been in her apartment. He looks around, taking in the space, and everything feels very... her. Cozy and inviting, with a wall of bookshelves and large windows overlooking the street below.

He busies himself in the kitchen, heating soup and unpacking the rest of the items he had purchased — tissues, cough syrup, pain medication... Glancing up, he watches as she slumps down onto the couch, half-burying herself beneath several blankets. He feels something tighten in his chest as he watches her, concern spiking when she coughs again.

After eating a bowl of soup and (very reluctantly) taking something for her slight fever, Olivia sits on the couch, knees pulled up to her chest, and says, “You don’t have to stay. I really appreciate you coming over, but I know I’m not exactly fun to be around right now.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says, not unkindly. Stepping into the kitchen for some privacy, he removes his jacket, along with the leather harness beneath it. He drapes both over a chair at her small dining table, careful to conceal his blunt sword. Loosening his tie, he sits beside her on the couch and reaches for the TV remote. “Would you like to watch something?”

“Sure.” When he looks at her out of the corner of his eye, he sees that she’s smiling.

They decide to watch Roman Holiday, and halfway through, she falls asleep, head slowly dropping onto his shoulder. The apartment is dark, her face softly illuminated by the black and white film. But he can still make out the faint freckles across her nose. He hesitates for a moment, then tucks her hair behind her ear. Her only response is to press her face further into his shirt, snoring softly.

As he watches the movie, he decides to let her rest. After all, she’s sick. His decision has nothing to do with the pleasant warmth of her body leaning against his, the strange comfort he feels as he listens to her deep, steady breathing...

Alone with his thoughts, he suspects he’s developed another bad habit. And he’s not sure what to do about it.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #nanami kento #nanami x oc #nanami kento x oc

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taesthetes · 4 years

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let’s unfall in love.

what if it began with the epilogue?

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader genre: angst, fluff type: college au word count: 3,291 words warnings: none playlist: 13 (lany) ⋆ 7up (boy in space) ⋆ pancakes (lany) ⋆ i.l.y. (the rose) ⋆ a poem titled you (taeyeon) ⋆ so, soo pretty (lany) author’s note: based on my college shenanigans and a few relationships i’ve witnessed my friends have

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It doesn’t end with a bang.

It ends with a quiet click of the lock and him sliding the key under the front door, instead of letting it hang from the bunny keychain you bought him three years ago. The apartment meant for two now only houses one, and the furniture that two chose together is now only owned by one. His last whispered goodbye echoes softly in the corners of the room before the silence settles around you in a stifling manner.

He had picked up the final box of his remaining items that you painstakingly packed away. The bigger items had been moved in the past two weeks, but you carefully gathered the last of his belongings and trinkets hidden within your once shared home earlier today. Three years of memories have all been reduced to one cardboard box filled with knick knacks. Will he throw away the ticket stub from your first movie date together? Will the small teddy bear be donated? You hope he won’t.

Sitting on the bed that now seemed too big, you reach over to your nightstand, tugging open the bottom drawer. You pull out the oversized, worn out black sweater with a small hole near the right sleeve. With a quiet smile, you register the faint smell of his cologne, balling up the soft fabric and pressing your nose to its collar. You hope he doesn’t mind that you kept one thing of his.

The break up is no surprise.

It’s been making its home in the back of your mind and his until it became so cluttered and prominent that the two of you were forced to address it. Perhaps it was your fault, maybe it was his, or it very well may be the culmination of both your faults. But the last grains of sand have slowly trickled down the hourglass, and your love for one another has reached its end. This isn’t where you and Jungkook envisioned your relationship would end, but what couple would ever predict their downfall? You hope he never did.

You neatly fold his sweater and tuck it away in a shoebox, pushing it into the farthest crevice of your closet: your final reminder of him resting on the empty side that was once his.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You are exhausted, rubbing your temples, and your throat is hoarse from yelling. Jungkook stands on the opposite side of the room, arms crossed over his chest, unable to look at you anymore. Since when were you no longer on the same team, but fighting against each other in the same war?

The small argument had only escalated into something bigger until all the feelings that the two of you have been pushing down bubbles up into an ugly eruption.

“Where were you? I thought you’d be back by seven.”

“I got dinner with the boys.” he shrugged, dumping his bag on the ground next to the door.

“I told you to hang up your bag because someone can trip over it. And I made dinner.”

He swipes his backpack off the floor and tosses it onto the couch, much to your irritation. “I forget my things if I don’t leave it near the door. If you watch where you’re walking, you wouldn’t be faceplanting over a bag leaning against the wall.”

You take a deep breath, ignoring his sniping response. “I made dinner for us.”

“I’m not hungry. I can wrap it up and eat it tomorrow.”

“You’re never here anymore.” (I miss you.)

“It’s not my fault you haven’t been here for dinner for the past month, so I just assumed you’d be out tonight, too.” (You never spend time with me anymore.)

“I have work and classes, and we never made any plans! If you told me we had dinner plans, I would have gotten someone else to take my shift.” (Life keeps getting in the way of us. Why is it getting so hard for us?)

“It’s one time. I’ve been fine with you missing dinner all this time, so why can’t you be understanding of this one time?” (Why are we arguing like this?)

“I always texted you that I won’t be home! You couldn’t even send me one text?” (What happened to trusting each other?)

“I’m sorry, okay? It’s not that big of a deal. God, you’re suffocating me! You’re always acting like my mother.” (You’re not the person I fell in love with anymore.)

“Maybe if you stopped being so immature, I wouldn’t have to!” (You’re not the person I fell in love with anymore.)

“I can’t do this anymore.” (Maybe we should break up.)

Where did the two of you go wrong?

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

The moonlight filters through the gauzy curtains, casting soft shadows onto the empty side of the bed. It’s nearly midnight, and his place remains empty and cold. You lie in bed, scrolling aimlessly through your phone, as your laptop is abandoned next to you, the Netflix page to Brooklyn 99 already pulled up and open to the next episode for your shared nights together.

Looking at the bright Instagram photos of your friends on what seemed like an extremely fun club outing you had declined earlier in the day, you wish you had accepted their invitation. You close the app before reaching over and picking up your laptop, opening up the document for your upcoming research paper. You might as well work on it until he comes home for your tv marathon Friday night tradition.

[12:54 a.m.] golden bf: hey i took an extra shift and forgot to tell you. sorry

With a sigh, you save your document and close your laptop. Moving off the bed, you place your laptop onto your nightstand before picking up the untouched bowl of popcorn. You make your way to the kitchen, leaving the snack on the counter, before going back to bed alone.

When you wake up, his side of the bed is slightly messy, any traces of warmth barely lingering behind. You groggily pull yourself out of bed, pulling the blanket around your shoulders, as you stumble out into the joint living room and kitchen area. Jungkook stands behind the counter, downing a cup of coffee.

“Hey,” he tiredly greets you before placing his mug in the sink and moving towards the door. “I’m going to class early to ask some questions before the midterm.”

“Oh, okay.” You make your way to the kitchen before pausing. “Good luck on your midterm.”

“Thanks.” He quickly slides on his shoes and then twists the doorknob and walks out. Halfway through the door, he hesitates before saying halfheartedly, “Love you.”

And then he disappears. You stare at the coffee machine whirring before you, the drip drip of the liquid following soon after. “Love you, too.”

Since when did I love you’s become shortened to love you’s? And when did they start to feel like habitual obligations, instead of heart racing confessions?

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You are pacing back and forth in the kitchen, palms feeling clammy, as you await for the phone call with bated breath. Jungkook is by the stove, glancing at you worriedly, as he pours the last of the pancake batter onto the pan. He makes a mental note to go to the grocery store after his last class tomorrow. Besides the five pack of ramen in the cupboard, all he could find was pancake mix. So pancakes it is for dinner.

“What if they don’t call?” you mumble, clenching your hands into fists and anxiously staring at your cellphone laying innocently on top of the counter.

“They will. You’ll get the internship,” Jungkook quietly assures you. Sliding the last one onto the tower of pancakes, he turns off the stove and places the pan in the sink. He reaches out to grasp your hands, gently unfurling them and intertwines his fingers with yours. “You’re smart and amazing and kind, and they’d be lucky to have you.”

“But, what if—”

The phone rings, interrupting you, and you freeze. Jungkook squeezes your hands reassuringly. One squeeze. Four squeezes. Three squeezes. You take a deep breath, he lets go of your right hand, and you pick up your phone.

“Hello? ... Yes, that’s me. ... Yes, yes, I understand. .... Yes, thank you so much. ... Thank you, bye.”

You place the phone back onto the counter, and Jungkook looks at you expectantly. Heart rapidly pounding in your chest, you manage to finally get the words out, “I got the internship.”

A full blown grin blooms across his face as he wraps his arms around you, tugging you in and spinning you around. Laughing, you bury your face in the space between his neck and shoulder, throwing your arms around him as well. When you pull away, he presses kisses all over your face as you giggle, swatting at him to stop.

“I knew it.” He smirks at you triumphantly, still hugging you tightly to his chest. “I knew you’d get it. I even bought this on my way home to celebrate.”

Walking over to the fridge, he proudly pulls out a bottle of champagne, setting it on the counter. “Pancakes and champagne. I can’t think of a better way to celebrate. Can you?”

Shaking your head, you grin as he places the corkscrew and two mismatching mugs on the countertop. With a resounding pop, he pours out a drink for the two of you. Keeping the frog patterned mug for himself, Jungkook hands the holiday themed cup to you. He presses a kiss to your cheek and positively beams when you return the gesture.

“I love you, babe. I’m so proud of you.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

“What about Spike?”

You frown at him. “That sounds like a generic dog name a small child would give to a Rottweiler.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know Spike is a very good boy. Our plant should be honored that it’s named after a canine icon in the Jeon household.” Jungkook stands next to the three plants you had placed in the windowsill of your shared new apartment. “Besides, you already named our first two plant children.”

“I only named one!” you protest, pointing to the tiny budding succulent on the far right. “The other one was a housewarming gift from Namjoon, and he said he already named it Blossom. So I thought we could do a Power Puff Girls theme and named this one Bubbles. And that one can be Buttercup.”

“But I want a Spike the Second.” Jungkook sulks before reaching out and longingly touching one of the prickles on the cactus. “He looks like a Spike.”

Blossom, Bubbles... and Spike.

Your boyfriend stares at you, widening his doe eyes and pouting, and you sigh, relenting. “Okay, we’ll name it Spike.”

He brightens up immediately, leaning down to be face level with the cactus. “You’re the best plant ever, Spike. I’ll be a better plant dad than Namjoon.”

Three weeks later, you notice the dead plant on the windowsill. You don’t know how Jungkook managed to kill a cactus, but you do know that he will be absolutely devastated if he finds out. You quickly run out to buy a new one and replace it before he gets home. Jungkook is none the wiser, ever the doting plant parent.

Luckily, Spike the Third continues to live on.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You sit on the wooden bench, tugging off your shoes before pulling on the ice skates. You lace them up easily, tying the ends into double-knotted bows. Jungkook takes a seat next to you, slowly removing his timberlands before somewhat reluctantly sliding his feet into the ice skates he rented at the counter earlier.

“Jungkook.”

“Hmm?” He looks up towards you, and you tilt your head slightly. “Is this your first time ice skating?”

“... How did you know?”

You smile softly. “You look a little nervous. Here.”

You kneel down next to him, reaching over to tighten his laces. “These need to be a little tighter. Can’t have you flopping all over the ice.”

He huffs a little, crimson blossoming on his cheeks. He is bundled up in a semi-puffy jacket with a maroon beanie pulled over his head, and you’re reminded of how similar he looks to one of those cute little puffed up robins.

“Around the tree and down the rabbit hole... There!” You finish tying his skates, oblivious to the soft gaze he has on you the entire time, and shove both your pair of shoes and his into the locket below the bench. “You’re ready to skate.”

“W-wait! How do I get over there?” Jungkook desperately clutches onto your arm, legs shaking. You grab his hand, lacing your fingers with his tightly. “Just take one step at a time slowly.”

Leaning heavily on you, he stumbles his way towards the rink, finally reaching the edge of it. He clings onto the wall and your hand before taking one baby step onto the ice. You skate next to him with interlocking hands as he makes a careful circle around the rink next to the wall, precariously wobbling like Bambi on ice.

“This is so embarrassing,” he mumbles, turning pink when some children zip past him.

“You’re doing good! Everyone has to start somewhere.” You gently tug him away from the wall, and he teeters slightly before tightly grabbing onto your arm. The two of you start to move, skating slowly but surely. “See? You’re skating!”

“I’m skating!” A gleeful expression spreads across his face as he pushes one foot in front of the other more enthusiastically. He lets go of your arm, gliding forward. The amount of pure, unadulterated joy emitting from him makes you grin as you skate behind him. “I’m doing it! I’m actually—”

Thump.

Bewildered, he stares up at you from the floor in shock, doe eyes widened and bottom planted firmly on the ice. You can’t help it as laughter bubbles up from your throat, and you quickly skate over to him. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry for laughing, are you okay?”

His shoulders relax as he starts to chuckle, eyes twinkling. “I’m good. I think I just fell for you though.”

Your shoulders shake as you laugh even more, reaching down to pull him up. “Let me help yo—”

Thump.

You find yourself sitting on the cold surface next to him, slightly dazed. Jungkook laughs freely, eyes forming perfect moon crescents, and while the coldness may be seeping through the fabric of your jeans, you have never felt warmer than ever, grinning back at the boy next to you. The two of you carefully help each other up. You slip your hand into his, squeezing it tightly, and he smiles at you, eyes sparkling. You bravely lean up and place a soft kiss to his cheek, making him beam.

"I guess I fell for you, too.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

“Shoot, I’m so sorry!”

The bright red substance more affectionately known as jungle juice has now decorated the front of your shirt, the fabric clinging to your figure more than ever. You look up to see a doe eyed boy nervously standing in front of you, the telltale red solo cup in his hand.

“I didn’t mean to, someone pushed into me from behind, and it just spilled over,” he rambles, placing his cup on the table and scrambling around to find some napkins or towels or just something to help the cute person that he just made a complete fool of himself in front of. “God, do they even have napkins at parties like these?”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you place your hand on his arm, stopping him in his tracks like a deer in the headlights. “Maybe help me find a bathroom to wash this out?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, there’s one upstairs.” You follow behind him as he pushes his way through everyone until you reach the stairs. “God, I’m really sorry, I don’t even go to parties. Yugyeom said there was gonna be free pizza, so I came, and then all they had were drinks and he insisted I have one, and I just— Sorry, anyway, here’s the bathroom.”

“First off,” you say, dabbing at your shirt with some wet towels, as he anxiously sits on top of the closed toilet. “You should never trust Yugyeom about those things. He told me the same thing before and when I showed up, all he had was an expired frozen Digiorno’s pizza left thawing on the counter.”

He snorts at that, reaching over to wet some more paper towels for you before handing them over. “I was desperate, sue me. I’m down to my last packet of ramen. I would do anything for a slice of pizza at this point.”

You thank him, using the new towels to wipe at your shirt futilely. Sighing, you toss them into the trashcan, accepting the fact that your shirt is past the point of no return. Wine stains are the worst.

“Well, pizza boy, looks like you poured your drink on the right person. I know a great place that opens late and sells whole pizzas for five dollars. You in?”

“Wait, really?”

“Well, I can’t finish a whole pizza myself, and it’s gonna be hard trying to find my friends now.” You wave your hand around vaguely. “So you up for pizza?”

“Heck yes, but wait.” He hurriedly tugs off his jean jacket and pulls off his black sweater, leaving him in a white v-neck t-shirt. He shyly holds out the sweater to you. “Here, put this on. It’s gonna be cold out.”

You grin, accepting his sweater and slipping it on with ease, reveling in its warmth. He puts on his jean jacket again and secretly hides a smile when he notices how the sweater envelopes you, the sleeves covering your hands and giving you sweater paws.

“Thanks...?”

“Jungkook,” he supplies, smiling widely at you. “I’m Jungkook.”

“Nice to meet you, Jungkook. I’m _______.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

"I’m here, I’m here!”

Standing next to the business building, you look up from your phone to see Eunha running towards you, hair flying. She quickly smoothes down any stray strands when she skids to a stop in front of you. “Sorry, I’m a little late.”

“No worries, how was your class?” You slip your phone into your backpocket, walking side by side with your friend towards the dining hall.

“Ten minutes in, he already assigns us a group project. Like c’mon, we just got out of summer break and he hits us with this thing that’s worth 30% of our grade!” she complains, waving her hands around in frustration. “You know what’s even worse? He assigned us random group partners. Do you know Myoui Mina, Kim Mingyu, or Jeon Jungkook?”

You purse your lips, thinking back to your previous classes. “Mina is really nice. She let me borrow her notes when I was sick. Mingyu was in my business law class, I think maybe? It was an eight a.m. lecture, so I didn’t pay attention to whatever was going on. I don’t know any Jungkook though.”

“Well, at least I know one member of my group is reliable.”

“Did you swap numbers and set up a group meeting at least?”

“Yeah,” she grumbles, “We’re all meeting Thursday night in the library.”

You shoot her a reassuring smile. “See? I’m sure it’ll all be fine. Now let’s hurry before they run out of the good whipped cream for waffles.”

“Oh my god, you’re right, we gotta run.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

“If I read our story backwards, it's about how I un-broke your heart, and then we were happy until one day, you forgot about me forever.” — The Tiny Book of Tiny Stories: Volume 1.

#networkbangtan #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #jungkook scenarios #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook #bts #bts scenario #bts imagines #bts fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook scenario #bts one shot #jungkook one shot #bts fanfiction #jungkook x reader

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thdorkmagnet · 4 years

Text

Where in the World is Janna Ordonia?

Hello everyone! Here is my Carmen Sandiego AU/ Master Theif Janna AU, whichever you want to call it! So this is, as you probably guessed, inspired by the new Netflix series "Carmen Sandiego". Ever since I watched the first episode I've been picturing Janna filling this role so much and I just had to write it! But I did change some things around from the show like making Janna a straight up thief rather than a thief who only steals from other thieves. This will also be a Jantom fic since I don't think there are nearly enough of those out there right now and I wanted to help add to the collection. This ship needs more love!

Also big shout out to Andychipss for the awesome cover art! If you get a chance check her out over on Instagram! She always does an incredible job!

Disclaimer: Star vs and all its characters belong to Daron Nefcy and Disney. Carmen Sandiego belongs to Broderbund Software, Netflix and Lauren Elliott. All right go to them.

The city of lights was dazzling that particular evening, its namesake casting a brilliant and beautiful glow across all of Paris. Even the dark corners seemed to hold a life to them, making the whole city feel as peaceful and romantic as they say. And on one particular rooftop stretching high above the paved streets below stood a young woman. She wore a black long-sleeve shirt with matching pants and long black boots, giving her the outward appearance of a shadow herself. But blending in would be rather difficult for her since over that she wore a bright red trench coat and matching fedora. Her short dark hair hung slightly out from beneath her hat. She had tanned skin and brown eyes. Her appearance was eye-catching that was for sure, which was why it was a strange choice of attire coming from one of the most elusive and legendary thieves in the world. Her name which was known across the world was Janna Ordonia, the Scarlet Thief.

The girl looked coolly out from under the brim of her hat, holding a pair of small binoculars to her eyes. From her sight, she spotted her next target up ahead, a museum. She watched as some security guards made their rounds, in the exact pattern she memorized over the last few days of staking the place out. "Predictable," she sighed slipping the pocket-sized spying device into her coat pocket. "I was hoping for a bit more of a challenge," she groaned in boredom.

"Well y'know, you could wait until Acme shows up," came a voice from inside the communication device in her ear. "You know some of their agents are on your trail since you set fire to that shop earlier today." His voice was accusing now, clearly trying to make her feel guilty for her crime.

But Janna was unaffected by the attempt, saying plainly, "Come on, Alfonso, I can hardly be blamed for that, they were asking for it."

"How?" Alfonso asked in exasperation.

"Charging 30 bucks for a stupid model of the Eiffel tower is insane!" Janna scoffed. "And they call me a thief."

The young hacker just sighed burying his head in his hands. "Anyways, am I all clear to head inside?" Janna asked returning the conversation back to the task at hand.

Alfonso complied, doing a few keystrokes on his computer, but still grumbling under his breath in annoyance. "Yeah, hang on," he mumbled, shutting down all security in the museum as if it were no big deal. "There, done. But you better do this job fast before someone realizes it's down."

"Hey no problem, fast is my middle name," Janna said, doing a quick stretch to loosen up her muscles. It was important to stay flexible in this line of work.

"I thought you didn't have a middle name," Alfonso pointed out.

"Well I just gave myself one," the girl replied, before leaping off the roof. As she fell she whipped out a grappling gun she kept in her sleeve, firing it and attaching it to another building's side. She felt the string go taint as she sailed around the side of the building, detaching it fluidly off the wall before flying into an opened window and right into the museum.

Her feet hit smooth tile as she tried to slide to a delicate stop. But she didn't predict her momentum correctly as she stopped just short of hitting a wall and knocking a small pedestal holding some priceless vase on it. Janna didn't even have time to dive for it before it hit the floor and shattered into a million pieces. The young thief sucked in a breath waiting to see if the loud noise had attracted any guards, but after a couple beats of silence, Janna declared it a false alarm and let her body relax once more.

Alfonso, however, was less calm, as his squeaky voice spoke up from Janna's earpiece, "What was that noise?! Janna did you break something!"

Janna scoffed, kicking the fragmented pieces under a nearby fancy rug. "Aw, relax I'm sure it wasn't that important."

"Janna!" The young hacker screamed and the girl was tempted to take the earpiece off to avoid the inevitable rant but settled for merely reminding her friend, "Better keep your voice down, Al. Wouldn't want to wake your roommate."

The audible groan through the earpiece was her reward as she sauntered superiorly though the quiet museum, keeping her eyes peeled for her target. Alfonso's roommate Ferguson often got on the young hacker's nerve, especially when they were on a caper. The loudmouthed teen seemed to have no self-control as he would frequently butt in and distract Al while he was trying to hack, getting overeager and nosy over what the two were doing (treating it more like a game than a life or death situation), and just being a general nuisance, which frayed Alfonso's last nerve. But this seemed to do the trick as the boy stopped with his incessant whining and Janna was able to enjoy a couple minutes of silence, taking everything in. She walked with practiced ease through the marble halls, making sure her footsteps made no sound as she traveled deeper inside. Her brown eyes scanned the area, alert and precise, despite her relaxed posture, taking in slow breaths of musty air.

She always loved being in a dark museum at night, the empty and quiet always soothing to her. As much as she loved chaos, even Janna couldn't deny how beautiful and simplistic a simple trip through the abandoned hallways could be. It was like looking into a hidden world, a peek behind the curtains. During the day, the museum was close to bursting with tourists and tour groups and kids on school field trips, making the experience feel cheapened and hallow. But at night, that was when the museum could truly be itself, no lights, no spectacles, no overzealous explanations of what made its contents art, it could just exist and allow its art to speak for itself. And that was something Janna could relate too.

Her eyes glance lazily around at the paintings and sculptures and all forms of artistic achievements, each one a masterpiece in its own right and each one probably worth a fortune. But none of them were what she was looking for. She had a much bigger prize in mind.

The girl came to a stop in front of a large painting, the image a portrait of a sailor, the delicate paint strokes perfectly encapsulating the man's gruff demeanor. Janna cocked her head to the side as if admiring it closely as she said into her earpiece, "Alfonso, I'm at the painting."

"Great, the panel should be behind it, I've overwritten the security codes but you'll have to pick the lock yourself," the hacker replied, all business now.

Janna smiled mischievously. "Not a problem." She took a step closer to the painting, saying softly to the image, "Sorry about this, captain." She gently grabbed the painting's frame, lifting it off its hook and moving it as carefully and quietly as she could. As she did she noticed that her eyes were now level with the deep angry eyes of the painting and she muttered under her breath, "Hey, don't give me that look. You brought this on yourself." Without another word, she set the painting down on the opposite wall, before turning back to her next objective. It was a small safe, made of thick unbreakable metal, and Janna could see it had two sets of locks on its smooth surface, an electronic lock with a small series of buttons and a panel, as well as a combination lock next to it. On closer inspection, Janna could see that Alfonso had already done his part, the panel flashing the word "Entry". Now all that was left was for Janna to do her part.

Janna cracked her knuckles, flexing them a little to make sure they were nice and loose. She carefully grabbed hold of the small turn-style knob, putting her ear up to the door as she began to ever so slowly move the knob left. Soon she heard a click echo through the cold metal and smiled, immediately turning the knob the other way, waiting for the next click to sound. She continued on with this meticulous task, making sure to move slowly and preciously with each turn of the dial. Until finally, the last click sounded and she took a step away, whispering smugly, "Child's play."

With one swift motion, she turned the handle and pulled the safe door open, staring inside with a victorious smile. Inside the small metal box sat a plain black briefcase with a simple lock that took the highly skilled Janna only a minute to pick. She flicked up the latches before opening the container, wanting to make sure she had the correct package. And just as she had predicted inside sat a small golden statue sealed tight in the foam covering they had carefully placed around it so it wouldn't be jolted or damaged. The statue was in the shape of a woman, a ballerina, her arms raised in a graceful and beautiful pirouette.

"Is it there?" Al asked nervously, he always got anxious when he couldn't identify the item firsthand.

Janna whistled, eying the statue closely as she muttered under her breath, "Oh it's here all right."

The young hacker let out a sigh of relief, before saying, "Good."

"Must be pretty special if our client wants it so badly," Janna commented.

"The Golden Dancer is one of the rarest statues in the world. It is one of a set of three identical statues kept in hidden locations around the globe. They originated in-"

"Geez, Professor Al, I didn't ask for the history lesson," Janna interrupted, sealing the briefcase back up and closing the safe. It was time to cover her tracks. Hopefully, no one would even notice it was even missing, at least for a while.

Alfonso let out a groan of annoyance but decided to change the subject, informing the girl instead, "Okay Janna, you'll need to be extra careful moving around the statue, we don't want to risk damaging it."

"Come on, Al, we've worked together for how long now?" Janna told him, setting the large painting back in its place from before. "Don't you know me better than that by now."

"The fact that I know you so well is exactly why I said something," Alfonso deadpanned.

Janna made a hurt scoff into the tiny device, telling him, "Well that's just rude." Her face showed a different story though, as she just smirked and nodded in satisfaction at her work. The painting was now perfectly aligned on the wall again, not an inch of it out of place, you couldn't even tell it had been moved at all. She picked up the briefcase, saying smugly, "Okay, now I think it's about time for my dramatic exit."

Just then a loud shout sounded from elsewhere in the museum, the echoed voice bouncing around the walls and Janna turned to it with a start. "Jan, what was that?" a nervous voice asked in her ear, Alfonso clearly hearing the voice too.

Janna, however, just whispered softly to herself, "Hmm, I was wondering when they'd show." Her smirk widened as she added, "This should be fun."

…

The two Acme agents walked side by side through the dark museum, both on high alert, their eyes darting as they meticulously searched the room for any threats. Well the young man was, the other seemed too entranced by every painting, sculpture, and statue they came across, her blue eyes gleaming with admiration as she looked over each piece of art. This wasn't the only contrast between the two, the two seeming to be as different as night and day, despite their similar style. Both wore fancy black suits (the standard for all Acme agents) but where the boy's was well-pressed and had not a crease out of place, the girl's was wrinkled in a few places but still quite beautiful on her slim frame. The man's short spiky brown hair was perfectly styled and lay even on his tanned face, his brown eyes narrowed in grim determination, which was almost thwarted by the adorable mole just under his left eye. His blood-red tie was a stark contrast to the pure white dress shirt he wore underneath his suit. The girl's long blond locks seemed to almost flow down her back, a small blue butterfly clip resting just above her bangs. She had on a carefree smile and walked with a noticeable skip in her step. She had on a dark blue tie and wore a black skirt and dark blue stockings rather than the dress pants of her partner. The only similarity the two seemed to share were the matching golden rings they both wore on their right hands.

"Do you really think someone is in here, Marco?" the blond asked, her eyes still gazing around in curious innocence.

"Well according to our intel-" the boy began.

"Meaning you," his partner interrupted, giving him a teasing look.

Marco smiled and blushed slightly. "Well, yeah. I mean, I am a man of many talents." He cleared his throat, willing away his blush before continuing in a matter-of-fact tone, "Anyways, Star, I heard news that the Scarlet thief was recently spotted in this area earlier today after setting fire to a local shop..."

"Classic Janna," Star commented.

"And then the whole security grid for the museum just happens to go offline the same day," Marco continued. "A place where they are keeping one of the rarest and most priceless statues in the world, mind you. Seems just a bit too suspicious if you ask me."

Star shrugged, saying, "Makes sense to me."

"In fact, Janna is probably in here right now, so we need to stay focused and not get distracted by anything."

"Got it," Star said, doing a small salute. But as she turned her head she let out a small gasp, grabbing onto her partner's arm and squealing, "Oh my gosh, Marco. Look at that adorable painting of a kitty! I have to take a picture of it!" the girl pulled out her phone but it was quickly snatched out of her grip.

"Star," Marco scolded, pulling his arm free of his girlfriend's surprisingly strong grip. "We aren't tourists, we have a job to do, remember?"

"Okay..." the girl muttered, giving him a pouting look that caused Marco's stomach to do flips at how adorable she looked. But he held back his coo as he simply nodded and told her, "Good."

The two had only gone a few more steps before something new caught Star's eye, the girl saying, "Look Marco it's a unicorn vase, ooohhh I want one!"

"Starrrr," the boy said, gaining the girl's attention before gently reminding her, "Focus."

"Right, right," Star said, nodding, her eyebrow now furrowed in determination. "Focus, I got this."

The two continued on a few more steps only for Star to gasp in shock again, causing Marco to sigh in annoyance. "What is it now?" he asked in defeat. Star quickly pointed up at one of the large statues towering over them. A big, hulking ox looking thing with an angry expression on its stone face. "Oh my gosh, Marco that statue guy looks just like you!"

"What, that looks nothing like me?!" the boy exclaimed, putting his hands on his hips as he gave the girl an angry glare.

Star had to fight to hold in her laughter as the boy's expression and demeanor matched the statue creature perfectly, the girl barely managing to stifle her chuckle by slapping a hand over her mouth.

"I don't know, Marco, I think it's pretty spot on?" a voice said behind the pair, and Star and Marco both turned to see Janna staring down at them from the floor above, leaning against the railing with a casual ease.

"Janna," Marco growled under his breath, reaching into his jacket pocket and whipping out his stun gun. He aimed it up at the thief, shouting out, "Don't move!" Star did the same next to him, yelling up at their target, "Hands in the air!"

"Well, which is it?" Janna asked, an eyebrow slowly raising but making no sign of complying.

The two agents shared a look, their cheeks now slightly pink, before Marco said in slight annoyance, "Just stay where you are."

"Sure, no problem there," Janna said, leaning a little heavier on her arm. "I'm quite comfortable up here."

"Well hopefully you'll be just as comfortable in prison, cause that's where you're headed, Janna Ordonia," Marco commented bitterly.

Janna scoffed, shaking her head. "I see you haven't changed any, Diaz." She paused looking over at Star before asking, "So how have you been, Star?"

"Oh, I'm great," Star replied brightly.

"Hey, don't change the subject!" Marco shouted.

"What? I'm just seeing how you two have been. It's been a couple of months since the last time we hung out, after all."

"If by 'hung out' you mean you swiping my wallet and using it to buy drinks for every pub in Ireland," Marco muttered in annoyance.

"Hey, you should be thanking me, you're a local hero there, now," Janna replied.

Marco's eyebrow twitched, but he said nothing more. There was never any point in fighting with Janna.

"Look, Janna," Star took over, picking up on her boyfriend's increasing annoyance. "We all know you stole something from the museum so why don't you hand it over and then we can-"

"Whoa, hang on a second!" Janna interrupted her face and voice showing interest for the first time since they had arrived as her eyes finally spotted the matching rings on the agents' hands. "Since when have you two been engaged!" She quickly picked up on the intense blush that soon coated the young couple's cheeks, as well as the quick loving look that passed between Star and Marco, before their focus returned to Janna.

"For a few weeks now..." Star admitted, clearly overjoyed to be confessing this, even if it was to their enemy.

"Unbelievable, I can't believe you two didn't tell me!" Janna scoffed out, shaking her head in disapproval.

Marco rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, "Maybe because it's none of your business."

"So how did it happen?" the thief asked, leaning closer to the two, her eyes shimmering with questions.

The brown-haired boy opened his mouth to remind her once again that their personal life was none of her business, only for his fiance to blurt out in an excited squeal, "Oh my gosh, it was the sweetest thing, Janna. You should have seen it. One minute we're beating up a group of VILE agents, the next Marco's down on one knee proposing!" Star let out a long sigh at the memory, putting a hand to her blushing cheek, her shoulder just barely touching her finance's side. "It was so romantic."

"So, where's the wedding going to be?" Janna asked with genuine interest.

"We decided to have it in Marco's old hometown," Star replied instantly. "Nothing too fancy, just a simple wedding with our closest friends and families. Don't want to attract too much attention, y'know."

"Staarr," Marco whispered to her in warning, trying to remind his future wife not to divulge too much information to the perceptive thief. He knew she was excited and everything but Janna was the last person he had wanted to know about their special day, considering her track record for making his life miserable every chance she got.

"Huh, sounds nice," Janna commented from above, sounding genuine and sincere, even going as far as to flash them what could almost pass for a warm smile. But Marco wasn't buying any of her act, he had been fooled by her one too many times. "So when can I expect my invite?" she added.

"Uhh, never," Marco deadpanned.

Janna gave the boy a fake hurt look, feigning ignorance as she asked, "What, why not?"

"Maybe because we don't want a common criminal hanging around during our wedding," the boy snapped, giving her an accusing glare.

"Plus, we're kinda arresting you, soooo," Star added, with an apologetic shrug. At that, the two agents held their guns up once more, their gazes hardening as they kept their focus and attention on their target.

The young thief let out a dejected sigh, sitting up and turning her back on the two but still keeping a light grip on the railing behind her. "Fine, I see how it is," she said in the saddest tone she could muster, watching out of the corner of her eye to see if they would let their guard down any.

She inwardly smirked as Star lowered her gun just an inch, her face softening in sympathy, while Marco only seemed to grow more suspicious, his eyebrows somehow furrowing more than they already were. "Look, Jan, just toss us down the briefcase and we won't have to use force," Marco said in a slow, even tone, but Janna easily caught onto the hidden threat that lay beneath.

She let out a deep sigh, before saying softly, "Whatever you say." The next few seconds went by in a flash as Janna instantly turned and jumped over the railing, now falling back to the first story. Star and Marco flinched, Janna seeing their fingers tightening on the triggers of the stun guns but before either could react fully, the girl threw the briefcase in her hands, it smacking directly into Marco's chest causing the boy to grunt in pain and surprise and crash to the floor hard. Star turned to her boyfriend in fear, Janna forgotten as she screamed out a panicked, "Marco!"

Janna, meanwhile, quickly shot out a grappling line from inside her sleeve, where it roughly attached to the ceiling. The string went taunt allowing the young thief to soar over the two agent's heads. She detached the line, tucking into a roll as she hit the ground and soon she was back on her feet once more.

Janna turned, seeing Star checking on her partner, who was more stunned than hurt and didn't even hesitate to shoot out another grapple line which latched onto the forgotten handle of the briefcase, before being zipped back over to her at record speed. Janna caught it with practiced ease, looking smugly over to the pair of agents now shooting her confused but angry glares, and she merely winked and tipped her hat toward them, saying in her typical sarcastic wit, "Thanks for holding onto that for me. But I think I'll be going now."

The thief took off at a run, knowing it would only be a few seconds before the two agents pursued her with a fiery vigor and she needed to put as much distance between her and them as possible. And just as she predicted within seconds Janna heard a loud voice shout, "Hey wait!" and she increased her speed, heading straight for the top floor of the building.

Star helped Marco to his feet before the two quickly ran after the escaping thief, the latter growling under his breath for being outsmarted again by the willy Janna. He ignored the slight heat in his cheeks, keeping his focus entirely on his target, whose head start was doing little to match his and Star's speed, quickly gaining on the girl.

The door to the roof busted open as Janna emerged, running toward the edge with Star and Marco right on her heels. Janna didn't even hesitate as she jumped off the roof, sailing flawlessly through the air before landing on the rooftop of the next building. She turned to give the two a victorious smirk before running away at top speed again.

Marco and Star, however, were far from beaten, the two racing ahead with no fear or hesitation as they too leaped off the building's side, landing on the next roof in perfect synchronization. Janna turned to see the two chasing after her again and she smiled to herself. This was just the challenge she had been hoping for.

The chase across Paris continued, Janna leaping from rooftop to rooftop, with little to no regard for her own safety, even the breakneck drop that waited below and the cold, bitter wind rushing against her face doing nothing to slow her pace. She began trying to dissuade the two agents from following as she took riskier and more dangerous jumps, knowing from experience that Marco would more than likely take the safest route available, rather than risk injury for him or his girlfriend. That boy was always too overly cautious for his own good, something Janna was hoping to use to her advantage.

But for once, Marco didn't seem to be falling back on his safe ways, keeping pace with his target as he precariously threw himself across every gap he came across. Star happily doing the same, looking like she was having the time of her life, chasing after the elusive thief with her boyfriend.

At this point, Marco's lungs and limbs were screaming at him to stop and allow them to rest. But the boy didn't listen, instead pressing them harder to continue. He was going to catch her this time, he was sure of it. And his hopes rose as he saw the row of buildings was soon coming to an end, instead opening up into a near-empty harbor, the light from the moon catching in the gentle waves and causing the water to shimmer and dazzle. That was definitely too far for even Janna to jump.

The girl seemed to notice this as she brought herself to a stop, just inches away from the edge. She turned to face the two agents, who were both huffing and puffing at this point, exhausted from the long trek over the Paris skyline. But they smiled at her with tired but victorious smirks, Star saying in a gasped breath, "Ha, looks like we win! You're trapped!"

"Just give up, Janna, there's nowhere else for you to run," Marco added, his voice low and full of finality.

"Maybe not," the girl said in a soft tone, keeping her face blank, before she smirked and added cryptically, "But maybe I don't have to." Her eyes snapped over to the waiting harbor below, before returning over to the two agents. Star and Marco gave her quizzical looks for a second before they both gasped in shock, realizing what she was saying.

"Wait, you aren't seriously going to try and jump that, are you?!" Star asked in disbelief, her eyes widening some in worry.

"No way, Star, she's just bluffing!" Marco said confidently.

"Are you sure about that?" Janna asked, taking a step closer to the edge, a gust of wind nearly knocking her hat off her head but she stood unmoving against it, bracing herself against its biting chill.

Star looked over to her boyfriend, cupping a hand around her mouth as she whispered to him, "I don't know, Marco. She seems pretty serious."

The boy agent paused, heeding his girlfriend's advice and giving his target a closer examination, taking in Janna's relaxed and almost teasing posture, her eyes showing no sign of hesitance or concern. Marco inwardly cringed, Star was right she was definitely up to something. But he didn't let it show as he again warned the girl, "You can't make that jump, Janna. Just surrender peacefully and things will go easier for you."

Janna cocked her head to the side, making a big show of thinking this over, tapping a finger against her chin in a clearly mocking manner. "Hmm, I don't know. 'Surrender' and 'peaceful' aren't exactly in my vocabulary." Keeping her gaze locked on the two agents she took a step closer to the edge, her foot now partially off the building, a wide smirk growing on her face as she added, "Besides since when have I ever taken the easy route."

Then, without another word, the girl turned and lunged forward, kicking off of the roof with all her might, sending her form flying smoothly through the air. At the same time, Marco lunged for her, hoping to catch her before she was out of reach. "Oh no you don't!" he screamed, his hand reaching out to grab onto her signature cloak. But he was just milliseconds too short, his fingers barely brushing the bright red fabric before it slipped through his fingertips, leaving him touching nothing but air... and falling quickly and precariously toward the waiting water below. Marco let out a high-pitched scream, his arms flailing in a desperate attempt to somehow slow himself, before splashing into the cold moonlit harbor, a spray of water sent hurtling through the air.

Janna, however, remained as calm as ever, holding out an arm and firing off her grappling gun once again, it easily connecting to the side of a building across the stream before yanking her quickly towards it, the trained thief doing a quick flip in the air before landing expertly on the rooftop.

Star, who had watched the whole display from the safety of the nearby building, muttered to herself, "Oh right, grappling hook. Forgot she had that."

Down below, Marco surfaced, coughing and spluttering as he spat out as much water as he could from his lungs, looking shocked and bewildered from the unexpected dive. His spiked hair now lay flat and clung to his head at awkward angles, his form shuddering in the frigid temperature.

Janna looked smugly down to the young agent and then back up to Star before saying, "Well this has been fun, but I got to run." The girl then began making her way across the rooftop, walking smoothly and steadily now that she didn't have to worry about being pursued. She kept her back to them as she waved her goodbye, shouting, "Congrats on the wedding by the way! Make sure to send me some pictures."

Once the girl was out of sight, Star turned her attention back to her boyfriend, asking in concern, "Marco, you okay?"

The boy let out an exhausted sigh. "I'm fine," he said dejectedly.

"You sure?" Star questioned, not looking quite convinced. "Nothing's hurting?"

"Just my pride," the boy admitted, looking sadly off into the distance, the exact direction his target was now headed.

Star gave her fiance a sympathetic look, before adding, "You want me to go after her."

The boy shook his head, slouching forward as his face hardening into an angry scowl. "Nah, there's no point. She's probably long gone by now."

"Okay well, in that case, I'm coming down to help you," Star replied.

Marco's eyebrow raised in confusion, not quite understanding what his girlfriend was implying. "Wait, what do you mean by-" he started to ask, only to be interrupted by a loud shout above, looking up to see Star diving off the building too, letting out a cheer of excitement as she free-fell through the cold, night air.

"Wait, wait, wait, Star don't, it's too cold!" The boy shouted in warning, waving his hands wildly but it was too late as Star splashed down into the bay right next to him, sending a wave of freezing cold water into his face and leaving him spluttering once more. Star surfaced a second later, water dripping from her bangs as she giggled at her Marco's startled face.

The boy let out a few deep breaths, still in shock from being pelted with the icy cold water but soon found himself smiling too, his fiance's laugh too infectious for him to resist. And pretty soon Marco was laughing too, pressing his forehead to Star's and bringing his arms around her, the two floating on the water's surface as one. "You know we're gonna be in big trouble for not catching Janna, right?" Marco reminded Star, though it was light and warm in comparison to just a few minutes ago.

"Aww, we'll get her next time," Star reassured the boy, cupping his cold cheeks in her hands, the warmth of her fingers causing Marco's whole face to tingle. "Besides, I already know where's she heading."

"Wait, you do?" Marco gasped in surprise.

Star gave her boyfriend a quick wink, saying in a flirty tone, "You're not the only one who can gather intel, y'know." Marco continued to give his partner a disbelieving look, not that he should be too surprised. Star was amazing and when she put her mind to it, there was nothing she couldn't do.

"So where's she headed?" Marco asked curiously.

"Welllll, judging by the direction she was going I would say our Scarlet Thief is heading for the train station. It's only like a block away from here and we both know Janna is known to try and skip town the first chance she gets," Star explained, while her fiance just listened in awe. "So all we gotta do is head over there and find out which train she got on."

"How do you know that?" the boy asked, raising a playful eyebrow at his bride-to-be.

Star shrugged. "Reasons," she said vaguely.

"Like?" the boy pressed, giving her a flirty look he knew she couldn't resist.

Star blushed slightly as she replied, "Let's just say I've had my eye on this place for a while now. You may be in charge of planning the wedding, but I'm in charge of the honeymoon."

The boy instantly froze, his face turning a dark shade of red that easily surpassed the color on his tie. He definitely hadn't been expecting that answer and he had to cough into his hand to clear his tight throat, looking away from the beautiful piercing blue of his girlfriend. "Oh yeah, okay, great, that's uhhh... that's great," the boy muttered nervously, Star holding back a giggle at the embarrassed blush on her Marco's cheeks.

Instead, the blond let out a loving sigh, giving her adorable fiance's small form a quick squeeze, as she squealed out, "Aw Marco, your so cute!" But she quickly added in a determined, serious tone, "But we can flirt later! Right now we got a job to do!"

"Yeah!" Marco shouted, pumping a fist into the air, too, before the two shared a quick high five. Just as their hands connected, a motorboat sped by them, sending a wave of freezing cold water washing over them. Both of the highly trained agents froze in place, their hands still touching as Marco muttered behind chattering teeth, "But first things first, let's get out of this water before one of us freezes to death!"

"Agreed," Star replied, her form shaking in perfect sync with her boyfriend's as they both began furiously swimming for shore and hopefully some much-needed warmth.

…

Janna was able to board the train out of Paris without any complications whatsoever. Mostly due to the fact that Alfonso had purchase Janna a ticket in advance, under his partner's direction, though being sure to give the conductor a fake name since Janna was a very wanted criminal at the moment. The young hacker had shown reluctant at first towards the plan, saying that even with a fake name she could still be recognized and that it would safer to just sneak onboard. But Janna had been quick to argue, saying that Al was just being paranoid and worried too much... which he absolutely did. But despite his concerns, Alfonso had gone ahead with the purchase, making sure Miss Hanna Orlandia had a ticket out of the city.

And just as Janna had predicted, nobody paid her any mind, the conductor barely batting an eye in her direction as he just lazily punched her ticket and sent her on her way. Janna, of course, making a smug comment to Alfonso which caused the boy to groan in annoyance and accept defeat... this time.

From there it had been as simple as stashing the briefcase in one of the storage cars, making sure it was buried under a pile of luggage and wouldn't be accidentally discovered by any noisy passengers, leaving Janna free to enjoy the trip.

She slowly walked through the row of cars looking for her seat, ignoring the irregular shifting beneath her feet as the train carried forth at rapid speed, already fast on its way to her destination. "Sooo that could have gone... better," Al said in her ear, trying to lighten the mood and the girl chuckled.

"Yeah, but we did get to see the power couple so I'd call that a win," she responded, ignoring the weird looks she was getting from the few passengers that went by. "And we just got away scot-free."

"I don't know Janna," Al responded nervously. "This just seemed too easy."

Easy. Yeah for him, maybe, all he had done was sit there and give out directions, Janna was the one who had been in a hot pursuit across Paris with two of the most highly-trained secret agents in the world. "Oh relax Al," Janna replied with a roll of her eyes. He could be so over-dramatic sometimes. "We're fine."

"Yeah, Al relax," came a familiar voice through the earpiece.

"Ferguson! How long have you been up?!"

"Mmm," Ferguson hummed thoughtfully. "Probably about three minutes or so."

"Well if you're up than can you do me a favor and clean the dishes, the sink is full again and it's your turn."

"Whaaaattt nooo," Ferguson whined. "Why can't you do it?"

"Because I'm busy helping Janna," Alfonso explained, sounding exasperated with the discussion already.

"Well let me help Janna and then you can do the dishes," Ferg suggested excitedly.

"No way! I'm not letting you touch my system, you don't know anything about it!" Al argued loudly.

"Aw come on how hard can it be if you do it?"

"Ferg, I said no!"

The speaker quickly filled with the sound of the two wrestling, Alfonso probably trying to push Ferguson back from his expensive and highly breakable equipment. After a few seconds of listening to the annoying grunts of them fighting, Janna pulled out her earpiece, knowing they could go on like this for a while and she was in the mood for some peace and quiet.

She reached her own reserved car, smiling softly to herself as she saw the door was already open, alerting her someone was already inside. And she had a pretty good idea who.

And the moment she stepped inside her smirk widened as her suspicions were proven correct, he was there. He sat with his legs crossed and his arms stretched out on the back of his seat trying to look as casual as possible. His hair was spiked just like she had remembered it and the familiar pink color made Janna inwardly chuckle. He wore a bright red shirt with a star on the front and a long black leather jacket, black gloves with the fingers torn off, and black jeans. His shoes were his typical orange boots. In short, Tom Lucitor looked as great as ever.

He gave her a devilish grin, saying in a smooth tone, "Thought you'd show up, took you long enough, though."

Janna put a hand to her hip and said in the teasing tone she reserved only for her greatest rival, "Aw, Pinkie what a surprise."

The boy's calm demeanor shattered as he growled at the hated nickname. "I told you my hair is salmon!"

"Mmm yeah I'm still gonna call you Pinkie," Janna replied with a shrug, taking the seat across from him.

Tom groaned, crossing his arms in a pouting gesture. "Yep your still as intolerable as ever," he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

"And your still as angry as ever," the girl replied, leaning back in her seat, crossing her legs and resting her hands behind her head. "So what brings you to Paris, the City of Love, don't tell me you've gone all sappy and turned into a romantic."

"You know me better than that, Jan," Tom replied, flashing her a cocky grin. He leaned forward a bit, before saying in a knowing tone, "And I think you already know why I'm here."

Janna smiled. "Yes, but I wanted to hear you say it."

Tom's gaze narrowed slightly before he began in a threatening tone, "I want you-"

"You want me?" Janna interrupted with a mock look of surprise. "Well looks like you are turning into a romantic."

Tom growled angrily under his breath as he spat out through clenched teeth, "I want you to give me the statue."

"What statue?" Janna asked, feigning ignorance.

Tom just rolled his eyes before snapping, "The Golden Dancer! The one you stole from the museum."

"What makes you think I stole anything?" Janna asked, her cryptic tone never ceasing and the smile on her face told Tom that she was very much enjoying herself, much to his annoyance. "Can't a girl visit Paris without having some ulterior motive?"

"Yes, but you're not most girls," Tom stated simply, and for the first time since she had gotten there Janna's cheeks got the slightest tinge of pink.

"Aww, you flatter me, Tom," Janna cooed coyly, winking at him.

"That wasn't a compliment," Tom stated, trying to hide the joy he felt at making her blush. She was so cute when she was blushing, it almost made him forgive how aggravating she could be.

"Yes, it was," Janna said calling his bluff, and Tom felt his cheeks heat up again against his will, growling to try and hide his embarrassment.

Almost. He almost forgave her. But something told him, she wanted it this way, which was why being around her was so frustrating. She always knew just what to say to set him off. "Look are you gonna give me the statue or do I have to make you," he threatened, wanting to just get to the point and get this whole confrontation over with before he was reminded anymore how much he had missed her. His hand slowly moved to his pocket, making sure his movements were subtle enough she didn't pick up on them.

"Hmmm," she hummed, tapping a finger to her chin, clearly thinking it over or at least pretending to. "Yeah no, I don't think so. I stole it fair and square. You want it so bad you should have stolen it yourself." Tom smirked. "Why would I do that, when I got you?" He leaned forward, his malicious grin widening with every word, looking proud of himself for conning the elusive thief. "I followed you all the way, here, y'know. And I didn't even have to try to find you, you made your presence well known. If I didn't know any better I'd say you were slipping Janna." His hand now grasped the electric stun baton from within the confines of his pocket, ready to draw it out and use it to knock his annoying rival out cold. But then Janna did something unexpected, she leaned in closer to him, freezing the boy in place as his heart began hammering in his chest. Soon their faces were just inches apart, Tom looking deep into Janna's brown gaze, a soft, almost sincere look on her face and he wondered if she was actually opening up to him for once. Her fingers began tracing lines on his shirt as she softly whispered, "Or maybe I wanted you to find me."

Tom tried not to shudder as her warm breath tickled his skin. Her lips were so close now, challenging him, teasing him to move in, but no matter how much he wanted to (oh man did he want to) he knew better than to let his guard down around her. "Wh-Why would you do that?" He asked, trying to hide the squeak in his voice.

And then Janna moved in even closer until her lips were almost touching his as she said in the most honest and sincere tone he had ever heard come from her lips, "Cause I missed you, Tom."

The boy gulped but found himself actually moving in for the kiss, all ulterior motives, all scheme, all logic thrown out the window as he attempted to capture that which he had never yet been able to steal: Janna's affection.

But just before their lips brushed, Tom felt a stinging sensation in his side, which then turned into a powerful burning. He let out a yelp of pain as he looked down, only to see Janna had snatched the baton from his pocket and had it pressed into his side, electrocuting him.

"Sorry, Pinkie," he heard Janna say to him in an apologetic tone, but it was distant and fuzzy as his brain began to shut down. "But you know the first rule of dealing with a thief. Never let them get too close."

Tom let out one last growl of annoyance before he lost consciousness, falling back against his seat, asleep.

Janna pulled the device away the second she saw the boy's eyes close and quickly pocketed the device. It was very nicely made, she might have some use for it in the future. For a few seconds, she just stared at his sleeping face, looking so cute and peaceful you couldn't even tell that beneath lie a hotheaded, temperamental thief. He was too much fun to tease when awake, but asleep he was irresistible. Which was why she couldn't help but lean over and place a gentle kiss on his cheek, letting her armor crack for a second as she whispered to his sleeping form, "See you around, Tom."

She stood, stepping back out into the hallway, giving him one last longing look over her shoulder before closing the door to the train car sealing the sleeping teen inside.

Once she had put some distance between her and her unconscious rival, she slipped her earpiece back on, saying smoothly, "Hey Al, what'd I miss?"

"Janna?!" Came the worried, expected shriek of her friend. It was clear he had been panicking for a while now. "What happened? I lost contact with you. Did something go wrong?"

"Nah, not really," the girl lied instantly. "Must have just had a bad signal there for a while."

"Well that's a relief," Alfonso said with a sigh. "For a minute there I was afraid you ran into that hot-headed rival of yours. That would have been a total disaster."

"Wellllll, actually," the girl said in a purposely overly hesitant way.

Alfonso let out a long sigh. "Spoke too soon," he muttered under his breath.

...

The train pulled into the station an hour later, a crowd of passengers emerging from the train in a hurry, eager to stretch their legs after the long trip. And hiding in plain sight, the thief in red whistled as she strode along, an almost skip in her step as she carried the large briefcase loosely at her side. She made her way to the dock, where a large boat waited for her, giving the captain a wink as she boarded, letting him know it was her and he nodded to tell her he understood. He said something over to one of the crew who ran off to inform them now they were good to go. Not even a minute later the ship was already plowing it's way out of the harbor and heading toward open ocean.

The captain went over to greet her, saying pleasantly enough, "Miss Ordonia, glad to see you made it." His gaze slowly lowered to the briefcase, eying it greedily for a second. "And by the looks of it, your heist was a success."

"Captain Carrots, a pleasure as always," Janna said with a smile. "I trust my colleague already paid you in full."

"Aye yes, your friend already sent us the cash."

"And did he give you my instructions?"

The captain nodded. "Aye, he did."

"Good, then since you know our destination, I'll leave the rest to you," Janna said, going to walk around him but he stepped into her way, blocking her path off.

"Why don't you let me take that off your hands," the captain offered slowly reaching down to grab the briefcase, Janna hearing the greed and desperation in his voice. "Me and my crew will make sure it reaches its buyer safely."

Janna quickly bat his hand away and positioned her body so the briefcase was no longer in his line of sight, wagging a scolding finger at him while clicking her tongue in disappointment. "Nice try, Captain, but I wasn't born yesterday," she said with a smirk, the captain gritting his teeth at her. "And I was given strict instructions by my employer to deliver the statue myself and to make sure I personally handed it over to him. But if you'd like I'd be happy to call and let him know-" Janna made a show of reaching into her pocket and pulling out her phone.

"No!" The captain shouted, putting a hand up to try and stop her. Janna gave him a knowing smile as he cleared his throat, continuing much softer, "No that won't be necessary." He plastered on a forced smile that was just priceless to the young thief who was enjoying every second of this, though she made sure not to let it show... not too much at least.

"Good," Janna said, slipping the phone back in her pocket, the superior grin never leaving her face. "Then I'll leave you to your job and you can leave me to mine."

The young thief then pushed her way past the man, leaving the fuming captain alone to rage as she found a seat near the back of the boat, her back literally against the rail that prevented her from falling into the crystal clear waters below her. The second she sat down she felt a lurch as the boat propelled forward at an even faster speed now that they had reached deeper waters, quickly on it's way to Janna's next destination. The girl set the package down at her side, before letting out a relaxed sigh, leaning back in her seat, feeling the cool breeze of the ocean washing over her as she stared out at the picturesque ocean waves for a second.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you?" Alfonso said in her ear.

"What messing with the captain, of course, I did?" The girl admitted, no shame in her tone. "He was trying to con me, so I just let him know who he was dealing with."

"You know, you wouldn't have to do that if you let me hire a law-abiding citizen instead of a dirty, crooked conman."

"Wheres the fun in that? Besides haven't you ever heard the phrase 'honor among thieves'."

"Yes, but the more time I spend with you the more convinced I am that it's a bunch of nonsense," Al deadpanned.

Janna chuckled at that, before saying, "I'll take that as a compliment."

"It wasn't."

"I know."

Alfonso sighed and she heard the distinct sound of the young genius banging his head against his desk (it wasn't the first time one of their conversations had ended that way and the thief was slightly curious if there was an indent in his desk from how many times he had done it). Janna decided to show a little mercy for her friend and change the subject, saying, "Oh relax, Al. Look on the bright side, we got the painting with minimal damage, got to see our favorite power couple, and even managed to get away from Tom unscathed. Sounds like a pretty successful mission to me."

"Yeah," Alfonso agreed halfheartedly. "Guess there is that. Let's just hope we threw that hothead off our track for a while."

Janna smiled thoughtfully to herself, bringing up the mental image of the handsome thief into her mind. "I don't know, something tells me we'll be seeing him again very soon," she replied, unable to resist adding a knowing edge to her tone that the young hacker picked up on instantly.

"Janna, what did you do?" He asked in exasperation, hoping she hadn't done what he feared she had done. Knowing her, it was entirely likely.

Janna didn't reply, just smiling smugly to herself as she stared across the waves at the fading sunset on the horizon, wondering what the next day would bring her, while her head spun with the image of gorgeous red eyes.

…

Tom was furious the moment he had woken up with a splitting headache and a dry mouth, feeling a bizarre mixture of regret, disappointment, and rage. But mostly rage. And all of it was directed at one soul individual. Stupid Janna! He couldn't believe he had actually fallen for such an obvious trick and he silently cursed himself for actually letting her get too close.

And now here he was, storming through the nearly empty train with a sour scowl on his face. He ignored the few passengers remaining, wanting to just leave without any further complications. Not that he was worried about getting caught since he had swiped a ticket out of some unfortunate soul's pocket when he snuck onboard, he just didn't want to be bothered until he got the chance to cool down. He wasn't sure where he was at this point since he had no clue how much time had passed while he was unconscious, for all he knew he could be in another country, for crying out loud!

Stupid Janna! This was all her fault. If she hadn't tried to-

Tom growled as his cheeks lit up with a blush, willing them back to their normal hue. How could he have been so stupid! He should have known better than to try and actually do that with her. Of course, it was a trick, ugh, how could he be such a moron?!

Suddenly, Tom stopped in his tracks as he spotted a pair up ahead, his heart leaping into his throat as he recognized the well-dressed couple, the boy holding a picture out toward the train conductor while his blond partner practically lay up against him as she stared over his shoulder, these two clearly having no sense of personal space with each other.

Great, Star and Marco were here, as if he didn't have enough to deal with, now he had the two best agents in Acme on his tail and he doubted they'd be all that happy to see him once again. Tom didn't waste any time as he quickly ducked into the empty train car beside him, knowing they were sure to recognize him the moment they spotted him his few run-ins with them memorable enough for him to leave a lasting impression and make him weary from encountering them again. He left the door open only a crack as he listened to the two's conversation while cursing whatever force had decided to give him this string of bad luck.

"Please look closely, sir. Are you certain you haven't seen her, it's very important," Marco asked the conductor, his voice friendly but professional as he pressed the man for more info.

"Hmmm, now that I'm looking at it, I do think I've seen her before, pretty sure she was sharing a car with a young man, I'll go check the books, see if I can find out which car it was," the conductor said, Tom listening as a pair of footsteps faded off into the distance.

Perfect, just perfect, Tom silently groaned. Now those two knew about him! Hopefully, they wouldn't put two and two together-

"Sooo Janna was with a young man, huh? Are you thinking who I'm thinking?" Star said in a knowing tone and Tom winced. Never mind.

"What, Tom?" Marco asked, sounding like he was deep in contemplation. "It could be, but that's a pretty big conclusion to draw Star."

Star scoffed loudly, Tom hearing a light smack (probably the girl lightly tapping her partner's shoulder). "Come on, Marco. It makes total sense. Think about it, those two are always hanging around each other..." Well, she wasn't entirely wrong. "... and you know they can barely keep their eyes off each other." Again, it was true, just not for the reason the blond agent seemed to be drawing.

"So what you think their partners?"

"Well that and also secretly dating," Star added, sounding so proud of herself for figuring it out.

Tom nearly fainted right there, his cheeks filling with so much blood he nearly passed out from blood loss in the rest of his limbs. How could they seriously think he would have any feelings toward his annoying rival other than disgust. But his mind betrayed him, momentarily flashing back to Janna's form slowly moving in for what seemed to be a loving kiss and he vigorously shook his head to relieve himself from the memory, willing down his now racing pulse.

"Dating?" Marco said skeptically. "I mean I guess it's possible..."

"Of course it is!" Star said confidently. "Those two are crazy about each other." She paused before adding in a sappy, loving coo, "Almost as crazy as I am for you."

"Well I don't think anybody could be more in love than I am with you, Star," Marco replied in an equally flirty tone. Tom tried not to gag at the young couple's overly affectionate ways. Could these two be any cheesier?

"Aww Marco, you are too sweet!" Star squealed. She sounded more like a lovesick teenager than a highly trained agent.

The boy let out a long, disheartened sigh as he muttered, "But y'know, I still can't believe I fell for her tricks again!"

Marco face-palmed, flushing in embarrassment as the previous events of the night came back to him, looping through his head and making him feel more and more ridiculous with every cycle. "Why is Janna always one step ahead of us! Every time I think about what happened, I just feel like an idiot." He buried his head in his hands with an audible groan, while out of sight of the two Tom was nodding in agreement and annoyance. He could totally relate.

Star gave her boyfriend a sympathetic look, seeing just how badly he needed cheering up. Luckily, the blond knew just what to do to help. She gave Marco a flirty grin, grabbing onto his tie and lightly pulling him towards her, causing the boy to let out a startled squeak, their faces now mere inches from touching. "Well, I think I know a way to get your mind off of that," she whispered coyly, causing a shudder to jump up Marco's spine.

"Starrr," Marco muttered in embarrassment, his eyes jumping around the empty train car, making sure they were, in fact, alone. "This isn't a good time, we're on a mission, remember? What if someone sees us?"

But Star didn't seem to be giving up, simply replying seductively, "Let em look. I've been waiting to kiss my future husband all day and I'm not waiting any longer." With that, Star moved in for the kill, her fiance's lips about to be captured and claimed by her once more.

Meanwhile, the disgusted Tom was busy debating on either staying quiet or slamming the door open and turning himself in (both of which had some major cons) when the voice of the conductor suddenly cut into the moment, much to Tom's relief, saying pleasantly to the two agents, "Okay I think I found it."

Tom could hear a small shout from the two, followed by noisy shuffling as they obviously pulled apart from each other. The thief could hear a loud cough from Marco (probably trying to clear his tight throat) as he said in a forced, formal tone, "Uhh, good. T-That's excellent news, sir."

There was a pause before the conductor asked, "Am I interrupting something?"

"No!" the young couple shouted much to quickly and Tom couldn't help but smirk from his hiding spot. Geez, why were they acting all embarrassed? Weren't they about to be married or whatever? "Anyways, what'd you find out?" Marco asked, clearly trying to change the subject.

"Well according to the record, someone with your description purchased a ticket in advance under the name of Hanna Orlandia," the conductor explained.

Star scoffed loudly, saying in a disappointed tone, "Really, that's the name she went with? Come on, Janna you're more clever than that."

"Star, don't compliment our criminal," Marco scolded.

"I'm just saying, that's kinda a lazy fake name," Star said, defensively.

"Oh yeah, and what would your fake name have been?" Marco asked his girlfriend in a playful tone.

"I don't know maybe something cool like Carmen or something."

"Ummmm, did you want me to go on or-" the conductor asked hesitantly.

"Oh yeah, right," Marco said in realization. "Continue."

"Well, she was staying in train car 15 along with a young man with pink hair." Tom had to suppress the growl he felt rising in his throat. It was salmon, not pink? Why did nobody ever get that?!

"Ah hah!" Star exclaimed in victory. "Told you it was Tom!"

"Yeah, guess you were right. I mean, i don't really know too many guys with pink hair," Marco replied in agreement. Salmon!

"Can you take us to their car? Maybe they left behind a clue or something," Star asked, the conductor immediately complying, saying, "Right this way."

Tom listened intensely as the sound of footsteps retreated deeper into the train, fading into the distance, along with Star's long rant to her boyfriend about how he and Janna were clearly dating and working together (which he did his best to ignore). He waited until they were completely out of earshot before pulling the door to the train car open, doing a quick check left and right before smirking and making his way over to the exit.

Once he was outside on the narrow streets of some unknown city, he picked a random direction and started walking, needing to put as much distance between himself and the two agents as he could. That had been a close one, much closer than Tom liked, but at least he hadn't had to deal with Star and Marco directly. He still had bruises from their last encounter, those two packing a big punch despite their appearance... especially when working as a team. No, as annoying and inconvenient as it had been, it could still have turned out much worse for him.

Sure they knew he had been there, but they wouldn't find anything. That much he was sure of since he had made sure to leave nothing behind that could be used to track him, despite the blinding rage he had felt after-

Tom let out a low growl as the memory of earlier entered his mind, anger filling his chest once again. Right, he had almost forgotten about stupid Janna and her stupid tricks. Why had he even followed her there in the first place? Hadn't he learned by now to steer clear of Janna and her obnoxious, charming ways? All she ever did was make trouble for him. What had he been thinking?

The boy roughly shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, trying to ignore the obvious answer that kept popping into his mind, refusing to admit just how badly he had wanted to see her again. He paused though, as his fingers brushed up against something. Tom came to an immediate stop as he dug around in his pocket, his fingers tightening around what felt like some sort of ticket or something before pulling out a small slip of paper. Tom stared at it stunned for a moment, knowing instantly who it was from. There was only one person who could have slipped this into his pocket without him knowing, presumably when he was unconscious. Finally, after a few more seconds, he slowly unfolded the note, confusion pinching his eyebrows as he read the soft, delicate handwriting, his heart thumping once against his will. Can't wait for our next date. See you in Venice, Pinkie. -Love, the Scarlet Thief

For a few moments, all Tom could do was read and re-read the note over and over again, his cheeks pooling with more and more blood every time his eyes crossed the words 'Pinkie' or 'Love'. Finally, after several minutes of contemplation, Tom silently folded the note back up, slipping it back into his pocket.

He just stood there for another moment, letting the words sink in, his gaze slowly turning to the rising sun over on the horizon, its bright colors seeming to be a perfect representation of his heart right now. Glowing.

And then Tom did something he almost never did, he let all his barriers drop, allowing himself a long, warm smile. But this was not just any smile, this was the widest, goofiest, most lovestruck smile that had ever crossed his features, one only those who were hopelessly and passionately in love could conceive. And despite how annoying and obnoxious and difficult Janna Ordonia the Scarlet Thief could be... Tom would be lying if he said he wasn't excited to know he would be seeing her again very soon.

Hope you enjoyed! Jantom is impossible for me to resist and I had to put in my daily dose of Starco or it just wouldn't feel right to me. So I might continue this someday in the future but for now I'm keeping it as a one-shot. I just don't have enough time at the moment to make more (plus I don't really have any more ideas for heists or whatever) but if you want you are welcome to send me ideas for it in case I ever do continue. Like I said no promises.

Anyways that'll do it for me, hope you have a great week and stay safe and healthy! Stay awesome, Stardom! Especially all you Jantom shippers out there ;)

#Star vs #Star vs AU #My Writing #Where in the World is Janna Ordonia #Carmen Sandiego AU #Master Thief Jan AU #Janna Ordonia #Jantom #Starco

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lilacyams · 4 years

Text

The Savior

Wayhaven Week 2020, Day 6 - Daydream / Nightmare

@otomefandomevents

Pairings: F!Detective/Ava Du Mortain

Summary: Detective Kassandra Remender has trouble sleeping, she always has. As duties, guilt, and lack of sleep eat away at her, there’s only one woman who can give her some comfort: Commanding Agent Ava Du Mortain. After a bumpy start, the two have grown quite close – closer than Ava would like to admit. They’ve made a habit of meeting at night, in the quiet of the training room; tonight, Kassandra has something to say.

Word count: 3,725

Rating: Teen and up audiences (anxiety references)

AO3 link: click here

I sigh and run a hand through my hair, heaving myself up in a sitting position. The thump thump thump of my racing heart fills my ears and doesn’t let me think; I let few minutes pass, giving it enough time to slow down and clear the fog in my mind. There is no need to touch my forehead to know it’s drenched in cold sweat, so I stand up and drag myself to the bathroom. Washing the nightmare away from my face will be something, at least.

It’s all fine, I tell myself, it’s routine at this point. Murphy might be locked down forever in a facility miles away from me, but in truth it feels like he never left. The vampire is still here; he haunts my sleep. I can see him in the mirror, right here in this faint half-moon scar on my neck. My index finger traces over it carefully, as if too much pressure might tear the healed wound open.

But it’s not just him. I see his victims in my dreams. Their cold bodies laying on a table, their cloudy eyes snapping open and burying into mine, accusing me. I failed them. I failed them, and I’ll carry this weight for as long as I can breathe.

Patting my face dry with a towel, I inspect the woman staring back at me through the mirror. She looks pale and tired, brown eyes dull with lack of sleep and long, dark locks disheveled by all the incessant tossing and turning over the previous hours. I brush them back in place. After all, I’m not going back to sleep now.

Wading through the gloomy corridors of the warehouse at night, my footsteps lead me to a familiar place – a place where I know I’ll find exactly what I’m looking for. Or rather, who.

The heavy doors of the training room have been left open. I head inside, now fully assured of her presence.

It has become a common occurrence, ever since our first nightly encounter in the training room. Every time I decide to stay over at the warehouse, should I have trouble sleeping I know where to find her. Given the repeated scenario, I might even call it “our spot”. We either talk about the most random things – with me doing the bulk of the talking, of course – or we just sit in silence. It does not matter: it’s comforting.

Does she really train every night, or does she only do so when she knows I’ll be there? Is she doing it for me? An interesting question I might ask her someday.

I have the impression that she feels bad for me, though she has no reason to. What I’m going through is nothing but the inevitable baptism of fire of a detective at the beginning of her career. And yet, the thought of the stoic vampire waiting for me in the training room every night, just to offer me some comfort in her own way, is… heartwarming.

Moonlight spills inside of the broad, high windowed room. It highlights the contours of various equipment items, which shadows stretch and dance all over the floor, and makes every metallic surface glow in silver.

I notice Ava laying on a mat, busy with a series of crunches. Preferring not to disturb her, I sit cross-legged in a spot nearby and wait.

Her skin glistens with sweat as she works, and I can’t help but fix my eyes on the attractive lines of her side profile. Moon rays cast their shine onto her top lip, nose, and cheekbones; and the labor-induced dampness makes them shimmer in a rather entrancing way.

The silvery gleam highlights her pale body and golden hair, giving it an almost holy appearance. She looks like a Renaissance sculpture, magnificent and timeless.

The vampire is obviously aware of my presence, but she keeps on exercising for another minute before she finally halts to a stop.

“Last set?” I call out with a smile. She faces me, turning around with a heavy sigh to settle herself onto the mat in a sitting position.

“You had another nightmare,” she says matter-of-factly.

“Yeah.”

Ava frowns in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

Her breath hitches as she stares at me intently, lips parting as if she’s going to say something else; but in the end she doesn’t, and her lips press shut.

I acknowledge her concern with a nod. “Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault. Don’t mind me now, finish your workout.”

Evidently not convinced by my attempt to brush off the subject, the woman pinches her eyebrows together tighter and straightens herself.

“I wish I could do more to help,” she states with determination. But her voice becomes uncertain as she speaks again. “I am not… good at this.”

My eyes widen in surprise at her words, what with not being used to such openness on her behalf. She’s definitely opening up to me as we’ve been spending more time together, but it’s always a welcomed surprise to see her showing her soft side… And admitting her feelings out loud.

Perhaps noticing my astonishment, Ava snaps her gaze away. I make an attempt to draw it back to me.

“You are good at this,” I reassure her. “Actually… you are the only one who can help me now.”

Now it’s her turn to be surprised. As we exchange a long and meaningful look, her piercing gaze acquires a softness. It’s the softness I always look forward to see in her eyes; not the icy green everyone can see, so sharp in her usual guarded look, but the liquid emerald that melts its ice away. The warm look that makes me think I might actually be special for her.

Her words come out only a bit louder than a whisper. “Why?”

My lips curve upward in a gentle smile as I fidget absentmindedly with the hem of my shorts . The sudden need to be closer to her eats me alive; the urge to touch her and tell her how I feel is so strong that resisting it feels like torture. I wonder if she can sense that.

Suddenly nervous and no longer knowing what to do with myself, I stand up and go sit on the first bench I can reach; much to my shock, Ava joins me almost immediately, taking the spot right next to me.

My head leans back to rest against the wall, the cold feel of it seeping through my skin as a welcomed sensation. Might help me cool down a bit, at least.

“Look how far we’ve come,” I start with a nostalgic smile, eyes fixed on the metal doors on the opposite side of the room. From the corner of my eye, I notice that Ava is looking at me.

“Do you remember the first day we met, blondie?” A chuckle catches my breath. “I mean… The one in my office, though we might count the one at the warehouse too if we want to be super precise.” I don’t need to look back at the vampire to know she’s shaking her head, not thrilled by the memory. Admittedly, shooting her was not the best way to introduce myself.

“What I mean is… Who could’ve predicted something like this? The first thing we did was arguing – and in a pretty heated way, and many, many times at that, and damn, I feel for whoever had to endure being in the same room as us – and now we sit here, just the two of us, with you keeping me company whenever I can’t sleep”

It does feel surreal.

“If someone back then told you we would be like this today, would’ve you believed them?”

Ava chuckles softly, drawing my attention to her amused face. “In all honesty? Never.”

“Right? And yet, here we are. And you know why?” I make a brief pause, my voice losing any trace of irony. “It didn’t take me long to understand it. You and I… we are similar. That’s why we butt heads so often, that’s why in moments like these I feel that you’re the only one who can understand me: because at the core, you and I are the same. We want to get things done, even though we might have a different approach at times.” I let out a content sigh, releasing the tension bit by bit; a playful smile dances on my lips as I speak again. “See, I like my women with a strong character. Challenge is fun, after all.”

The vampire considers my words carefully, then she nods. “It makes sense, I guess. What I don’t understand though, is why would you approach me for comfort. I’m not the first person you’d think about for such a task. And as you said, we have a different approach to things. Why me?”

Her green eyes inspect my face from beneath blonde lashes, in anticipation.

My shoulders relax: this one is easy. “Because it’s you.”

She looks puzzled.

“You know what’s wrong with me? I’m always worrying. I’m a detective, so I can’t stop worrying about this or that. The people who lost their lives before I could help them, the people who took those lives away, the people who still live and trust me to always do my best to keep the town safe. I see their faces every time I close my eyes. But when I’m with you, all those worries stop for a little while. All those negative thoughts just… leave me be. When I’m with you, I feel in peace.” I smile at my own words, recognizing how much they ring true. “I don’t usually like to show my weaknesses, but I feel that with you I can be myself. I can allow myself to be weak, and you don’t judge me for it. Maybe it’s not that bad to be vulnerable sometimes, right?”

“Detective…”

“It’s Kass,” I cut her off, rolling my eyes. “And I needed to get that off my chest, because tomorrow it’ll be another unpredictable day, with brand new stuff to worry about. We might argue again, or you might be sent off somewhere for a while and… Hell knows.” I take a deep breath.

Is it just my impression, or has she shuffled closer? Her thigh almost brushes against mine, and I can swear her body is leaning in to me. I wonder if she even realized that. Shaking my head, I swallow down my excitement and get back to the subject at hand.

“I keep on thinking of the people who died. I see their faces when I can’t sleep at night. You said it doesn’t ever get better, so how do you move forward? Do you just live with it?”

My question wipes off any hesitation from her face, the fiery resolve slamming back in place as her voice comes off as solid as steel. “You honor them by doing better the next time.”

Her piece of advice catches me unprepared in its simplicity; it’s an option I didn’t even consider. My mind is exceptionally good at going into circles and chasing the most intricate possibilities… only to find out that the actual solution is never as sophisticated, in the end.

It’s easier said than done, but I appreciate the wise advice nonetheless.

“Our virtues and our failings are inseparable, like force and matter. When they separate, man is no more. Although I haven’t been human for a long time, I find that these words still apply to me. And they most definitely apply to you,” Ava’s voice is soft as she pulls me out of my thoughts, and I look back at her to find a small smile on her lips.

“I recognize that quote,” I say with a half-chuckle.

“I know your virtues, Kassandra, and I have no doubt that you will make it,” she states, her words tinged with pride. It’s still an unusual occurrence for her to call me by my name, to the point that it makes my heart skip a beat every time. But the way she pronounces it… she makes it sound like the most beautiful word.

Her smile doesn’t falter as she holds my gaze with confidence. A couple of unruly locks have escaped her bun and hang down on the sides of her face like a golden frame; others stick to the skin behind her neck, messed up by the previous workout. Even so, she looks otherworldly graceful. I find myself to be too stunned to say anything as a quick flush spreads across my cheeks.

Unfortunately, the moment doesn’t last as long as I hoped. A sudden seriousness snatches her gaze away, and the vampire straightens herself in her seat. “Now it’s my turn to ask a question.”

I wait for her to continue.

“What you said earlier, about feeling in peace,” Ava pauses and clears her throat. Is she getting flustered? “You’re clearly at ease with this kind of thing. I could say I feel different as well, when I’m spending time with you.”

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Is she really going to…?

“However, it’s not peace that I feel. Quite the opposite, in fact. It’s… turmoil. Tension. Chaos. I feel on edge and I find it difficult to think straight. I feel… out of control. It’s a most unexpected phenomenon, as unfamiliar as it is alarming.”

It takes an insane amount of self control not to topple over my seat at those words. I force myself to keep my composure, lest I end up ruining the moment before she’s even finished talking. “I know what you mean,” I only manage to mumble.

She turns back to face me. “So… what is it that you do, when you feel like that? How does it become peace?” There’s something different about her expression. It looks hopeless, almost pleading, as if she’s in trouble and I’m the only person on Earth who can help her out.

It seems it’s my turn to dispense wisdom. I take a deep breath and offer her a kind smile: it feels good to know the answer. “You embrace it.”

Ava leans back for a moment, a deep frown settling on her face in disbelief. “Embrace the chaos?” she asks, as if I just said something utterly nonsensical.

“You heard me.” Though my words ring with a playful tone, my gaze on hers is steady and reassuring. She knows I’m serious.

Silence settles over the training room for a while, as the vampire seems deep in thought and I have no intention to push her. The light pouring through the glass panels above us is starting to change its colors: soon enough, sunlight will replace the silvery palette painting the room with night. The moon will go to rest and call it a day, but not me. Not yet.

Looking over at the woman next to me, I purse my lips. Maybe it’s because my brain is foggy with lack of sleep, maybe it’s because I really just want to find an excuse to make some progress in our strange relationship; but my body moves on its own accord as I slowly lean in, the want to be closer pulling me in like a magnet. She snaps her head toward me with such a quick motion I almost flinch, green eyes widening in surprise at my unexpected move. Yet, after the initial shock wears off, she does nothing to stop me – though she’s still eyeing me carefully.

Uncertainty fills my gaze as I keep on inching closer, scanning her face in search of any sign of discomfort to pull back. My daring move is met with the most unsure frown, which knots and smoothes over her forehead several times, as if she’s internally struggling to decide whether or not to let me get close. Eventually she allows me, both her expression and her body seeming to relax, and I bring my head to rest on her shoulder.

The scent of fabric softener on her t-shirt and the warmth of the skin underneath fill my senses, and I let out a content sigh as her taut arm muscles progressively unclench against my cheek.

I close my eyes.

“Ava?”

“What is it?”

“Have you ever been in love?”

She stiffens. Even though I can’t see her right now, it’s not hard to picture her signature “I’m a big nervous soldier” pose with shoulders bunched up to the ears.

“Shouldn’t you go get some sleep?”

I groan loudly. “It’s Saturday, mom. Remember?”

No answer follows.

“I have. Been in love, I mean. Or at least, I thought I had. It was… a long time ago.”

The vampire remains quiet, but the silence isn’t an uncomfortable one. It encourages me to go on, and so I do.

“Have you ever been in a situation when you thought you really knew something, and then… something else happened, and you came to the realization that you actually knew nothing? That’s how I feel. I was an ignorant kid then… and now, now I think I know it for real. It doesn’t make sense, right? Sorry, I’m tired.”

Again, my words prompt no reaction. I think I can hear Ava drawing a deep breath, but I wouldn’t count on it.

Then, against any prediction, a soft hand reaches for my cheek and cups it, tilting my face upward. The sudden, unexpected contact sends a ripple of shivers coursing through me, and I open my eyes. Ava doesn’t pull back, but doesn’t advance either. She looks as stunned by her own move as I am.

A rare display of affection from the usually stoic vampire opens up a precious window of chance I don’t want to lose. This is where my straightforwardness comes to play.

As gently as I can, just as if I’m trying to approach a nervous deer that would run for the hills at the mere sound of a branch being stepped on, I mirror her gesture and cup her cheek with my own hand. The green in her eyes darkens, her pupils appear dilated; she parts her lips in such a slight movement I almost miss it.

Mere inches separate our lips, and all I want to do is to make them disappear.

As I move closer, I expect her to pull back and storm out of the room, like she always does when we have our almost-moments. I had never managed to get so close before, so I silently pray that this time she won’t leave. Losing a race always feels worse when you’re so close to the finish line.

Let me have it, just this once. Don’t leave, don’t argue with me.

Just this once, let me have it.

Her heavy-lidded eyes engulf me, her warm breath tickles my face as our parted lips are about to finally meet, after all this time, after all this longing. I close my eyes in anticipation.

The last inches of separation feel like an eternity, excitement heaving on my chest and stealing my breath. Her top lip brushes against mine and my mind goes blank. Goosebumps prickle at my skin and I forget about anything in the world that isn’t just me and her.

Then, just as my hopes were about to finally gain shape into the real world, two hands grab my shoulders with a gentle but purposeful amount of strength, keeping me in place and preventing me from diving in to the contact.

My lips purse as I fail to hide my disappointment. What did I just say about races and finish lines?

When I open my eyes again, I find Ava looking at me with an unreadable expression. You might think it’s another frown of hers, but this one has something different to it. Regret, perhaps?

This situation is unprecedented. She’s not running away. No jolting up from her seat, no marching out of the room and slamming doors off their hinges. She doesn’t push me back nor find a reason to fight. On the contrary, the woman seems reluctant to let my shoulders go.

After some moments of dealing with whatever internal turmoil is eating at her, her fingers unclench their grasp and fall down. There’s sadness in her eyes.

“It’s okay,” I readily reassure her with a smile. “That will be for another time.” I want her to know I’m willing to wait, that what I feel is real and I won’t give up so easily.

Ava chews at her lower lip and falls quiet, yet doesn’t move an inch. She lowers her head, and locks escaped from her bun fall on her eyes. Our thighs are still pressing together, our bodies close. She won’t run this time.

I wish I could know what’s tormenting her, so that I could help. She would do the same for me.

Birds sing their cheery morning songs from the outside: though it might seem to me that time has stopped, the spell doesn’t escape these four walls. It’s a brand new day out there, and life will go on.

Drowsiness and lack of sleep weigh on my eyelids, slowly dragging them down. I resist.

I glance over at the woman next to me; that crestfallen look on her face is something I’m definitely not used to see. Concern and genuine affection overcome my entire self and before I can stop myself, I find myself slipping an arm around her waist and pushing my head in the crook of her neck.

“If you wish to talk… I’ll always be there for you, do you know that?” I mumble against her soft skin. “I’ll be there to help. Whatever it is, you have me. Anytime.”

Ava slides her arms around me and holds me in silence. Her nose buries in my hair.

Soon we’ll have to return to our daily lives. I’ll go back to my worries, my friends at the station, my mom, the rest of the Unit, and whatever the new day will have in store for me. Days will go by, one after another, with no way of stopping them. I will grow, I will laugh, I will cry.

But now it’s just the two of us, and I wouldn’t ask for anything more.

The warmth of her body eventually lulls me to sleep.

#wayhaven week 2020 #ava du mortain #the wayhaven chronicles #twc #twc detective #ava x detective #ava du mortain x detective #my writing #kassandra remender #twc fic

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clive-owen-and-the-knick · 3 years

Text

The Knick - Fan Fiction “Inconsolable” Part 1

"Laudanum."

Bertie, disheveled and disconsolate, cast a quick glance past Nurse Pell, who was solemnly packing away Mrs. Alford's belonging in the private room on the patient wing of the Knickbocker hospital.

"What?"

"Laudanum," Dr. Algernon Edwards repeated, holding up a small glass vial and dropper which had been tucked neatly away on the small tabletop next to the patient's bed, ominously close to a nearly empty glass of water. Algernon picked up the glass and swirled the water, sniffing it closely.

"She must have ingested this before the surgery. It's the only explanation."

Bertie, who was leaning against the back wall to support his exhausted, compact frame, seemed to gain a little energy back, "That would explain it perhaps. The laudanum would certainly have depressed and slowed down her functions, most critically her breathing. And then when I applied the chloroform –"

"It was too much for her system to handle. A standstill," Algernon was glum as he fingered the laudanum container, "She must have been taking this for anxiety or insomnia perhaps. We didn't know about it, so we couldn't have predicted the outcome."

Nurse Pell hurriedly picked up as many items as she could, her natural inclination to eavesdrop tempting her to linger a little longer.

"Thackery needs to know it wasn't necessarily the anesthesia which caused the problem, Bertie. As a man it might hurt but as a doctor, I think he would want to know the reason why."

"I'm afraid he blames me. He's inconsolable. He hasn't left his office since we had to move Mrs. Alford down to the morgue."

"It wasn't your fault Bertie, you know that. It was a calculated risk which Thackery himself took for the surgery, just like any procedure, yet with very tragic results," Algernon explained. "Let me try to talk to him."

*********

"Dr. Thackery?" Nurse Lucy Elkins inquired firmly, knocking on the Thackery's polished office door with a determined wrap of her knuckles, "Dr. Thackery?"

"Any luck?" Dr. Algernon Edwards approached.

Lucy Elkins tried to erase the fear in her voice, the display of too much concern which she could feel pulsing in her veins. She already suspected that Algernon knew everything about her and Dr. Thackery, so being here with Dr. Edwards made her flush.

"No, I need to be sure he's alright. He didn't speak a word when he left the surgery room. I'm afraid he might do something to himself. "

Dr. Edwards nodded solemnly and moved the young nurse aside, as if stepping back into the shoes of the hospital's leading surgeon once again.

"Dr. Thackery, we're coming inside now, "Algernon knocked one more time and opened the door. His eyes had to adjust to the darkness as all the curtains had been drawn with the minimal light of dusk barely seeping into the room.

Lucy came around the side of Edwards and they both looked around the office, which seemed completely deserted. Lucy's heart did a double turn as she scanned the floor, her worst fear being to find the prone body of Dr. John Thackery sprawled beneath his desk. She hurried over to his chair and pulled it back, looking beneath it. Edwards walked over to the leather chaise longe and scanned the bookshelves, shrugging his shoulders.

"He isn't here, obviously. Do you have any idea where he could be? Did he go home maybe?"

"I don't think he's been home since he came back from the Cromartie hospital."

Edwards gave Lucy a quizzical look.

"How do you know?"

Lucy bite her lip worriedly, "I just know. I think he's mostly been sleeping here or at Mrs. Alford's townhome."

Algernon sighed, discouraged, "We'd better find him. This is not a night he should be spending alone."

Lucy mused sadly, "It sure isn't."

**********

Most of the orderlies and nurses had gone home for the evening. Word had spread like wildfire around the hospital about Dr. Thackery's personal tragedy. The syphilitic women with the patched nose and the beautiful hair who had wanted to look better for her renewed sweetheart, Dr. Thackery himself. The irony of this thoughtless vanity had been death. And at the very hands of the man she was wanting to please the most.

The hallways were deserted by 8pm and Dr. Thackery edged with staggering steps along the corridor wall, having consumed alcohol in his office for several hours before sneaking out and hiding in various empty rooms and hallways until he knew he get about without being seen. His head was pounding and his heart was broken. The entire day now seemed like a distant nightmare which couldn't really have happened.

The panic in the surgery room, the sudden shock of Abigail's dead stillness, the tubes to try to revive her breathe, the hopelessness of a lost cause. Fittingly, the two people to witness his failure were the two he had disappointed the most in their short careers at the Knick. He felt like some sort of King Lear losing control of his kingdom. It was as if his surrogate son, Bertie, had dealt the unwitting deathblow to his Queen while his surrogate daughter, Lucy, had stood by as a helpless witness to the death of her rival. Lucy certainly thought of him as some sort of father figure. However he looked at it, this strange trio has made something of an Oedipal deathtrap out of their intertwining destinies.

"'Give me an ounce of civet, good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination'," Thackery heard himself mutter.

Shuddering in his mind, Thackery started to feel the tears coming again. He wanted to see her one last time so he made his way to the morgue. That cold, gray, hideous room of failure which so many patients ended up in when all the doctors and nurses' efforts – those heroic efforts! – went sideways.

Switching on the light of the morgue room, Thackery stood for a while, his arms limply at his sides. Which one of these dreadful boxes which lined the wall should he open first? It seemed a pointless and dreary choice. On his shaky knees, Thackery moved forward to weakly opened the first one. He heaved it open with a long motion of his arm.

He instantly stepped back with a gasp. He was staring down at the face of a girl dressed in white who looked alive. It was Sonia, the young anemic girl who had died at his hands a few months prior during a blood transfusion gone terribly wrong. But she was dead and buried with a new gravestone, surely? Why was she still here, haunting him? Hadn't he made amends?

Thackery slammed the morgue box back in place with an angry snarl, briefly holding his aching head in his hands. After a long moment he tried another box. He saw the very same body in it. Sonia, asleep and in the pink of her health. Not dead. Not buried.

Determined to banish this drunken hallucinations, Thackery continued to open the heavy, metal morgue boxes along the wall, and each time the same result. Abigail was not here! Sonia was in her place. He could not look at Abigail's sweet but scarred face one last time. All he kept seeing was this girl he thought he had put to rest finally. It wasn't even someone he knew very well at all. It was a haunting vision of failure and madness and presumption of skill. It was his own arrogance mocking him.

Finally discouraged and lost in remorse, Thackery stumbled out of the morgue.

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

"He isn't here either," Lucy said, climbing back into the passenger side of Henry Robertson's electric automobile. Across the street was the darkened windows of Mrs. Abigail Alford's home.

"So, am I missing something here? I have a fondness for Thack too – he's an amazing if temperamental genius. But how on earth do you know all of these places he goes?" Henry asked, a little exasperated. He had spent the last couple hours touring some of the more interesting places of Manhattan with Lucy Elkins in search of the missing doctor.

"I don't think that's really any of your business, Henry, " Lucy answered curtly, folding her dainty hands calming in her lap and turning her face away ,"I know more about him than you could possibly imagine."

Henry sighed, shaking his head. He was thoroughly charmed by this daring and sensual young nurse, so he felt himself willing to continue on this ridiculous hunt.

"Where to next?"

Lucy furrowed her brow, her eyes darkening, "We need to go to Chinatown next."

Henry nearly fell out of the car he jerked upright so quickly, "Where? Did you say Chinatown?"

"Yes. I did," Lucy answered quickly, "Do you know how to get there?"

Henry's mouth hung open with disbelief, "I think I can find my way there."

"Then hurry, please, we don't have time to lose," Lucy answered sternly.

Henry rolled his eyes and started up the electric car which took off into the cool evening, following the mixture of electric and gas lights on Broadway and turned south.

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

Opal Edwards had waited impatiently for Algernon to come home and took a hansom cab to The Knick when her patience ran out. Algie was late often enough, but tonight Opal felt like getting out in the fresh air and dressing up in one of her favorite burgundy dresses. She matched this with one of her most flattering veiled hats and pair of velvet gloves. With a dash of tuberose perfume on her throat she was ready to head out into the night. And why not surprise her husband at his infamous place of work? She was still furious about the Robertson's treatment of her husband. They had simply shuffled him off to the side with the intention of not fulfilling their promises for a position at the new Knick! Hypocritical cowards, she thought to herself bitterly. Algernon would have to forge a new path himself somewhere new – somehow.

When Opal arrived at the Knick, she was thankful that the main door was still unlocked despite the sparseness of the staff. One lone nurse was at the front desk and glared at her with hostile surprise. To see a smartly dressed black woman at this time of night must have surprised her, Opal thought, giving the woman a wide smile.

"I'm here to see my husband, Dr. Algernon Edwards, " Opal stated proudly, locking eyes with the nurse.

"His office is that way," the woman indicated the hallway to her left coldly.

"Thank you," Opal answered in her most haughty London accent and marched down the empty corridor with a swish of her skirts, her arm laced elegantly around the strap of her purse.

Her footsteps echoed smartly as she continued down the lonely hall. She could hear the electric buzz of the lights around her. Her steps slowed as the silence continued to grow. Did that woman send her in the wrong direction? Opal sniffed and smelled something unpleasant, something chemical mixed with a stench of sickness and decay. Suddenly the shadows of these rooms filled her with foreboding. So many grisly things happened in these rooms. She stopped and listened. She heard the shuffle of feet.

Around the corner a crumpled lanky figure appeared in a dark suit, his jet-black hair falling across his forehead. He braced the wall shakily and looked up at her with eyes full of misery and pain, his hand clutching at his gut.

"Hello, Doctor Thackery, " Opal spoke first, taken aback.

Thackery's face was startled, "What are you doing here?"

"Maybe you don't recognize me," Opal said curtly, “I know we all look the same to you.”

"Opal, like the fields in Australia," Thackery answered with warm recognition.

Softening, Opal took a step towards him now, noticing his pained stance, "What happened here today?"

Thackery couldn't answer her as he fell into a swoon of agony, clutching at her shoulders for support. Opal quickly braced Thackery around the waist. Beneath her gloved hands she could feel his ribs.

"Help me!" Opal looked around desperately for another soul to assist. Her voice carried down the corridor and reached no ears. They were completely alone here.

Struggling, Opal let Thackery lean on her closely as she hoisted him upright.

"Dr. Thackery, where do you want me to take you?" Opal asked.

Thackery, blurry-eyed with pain, depression and alcohol, raised his arm and started to guide them both, "Down here to my office."

#the knick #fan fiction #story #inconsolable

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heyitsani · 4 years

Text

I’m Hopeless Now

Keep on Truckin’ AU Part 3

Word Count: 4491

Rating: Mature-ish

Warnings: Robincest (obviously, even if they’re not siblings in this au), mentions of terrible parenting, parental death, death by overdose, drug use, foster care

Pairing: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

Summary: Jason takes Dick out on their first date and gives the other man a glimpse into a part of his life few know about.

Notes: There is just so much fluff in here. But the next installment has some angst, not like HEAVY angst but it's there. Next up is Duke’s introduction to the ‘verse!

Also, I'm not a Spanish speaker but there are a few Spanish phrases in this story. If there are mistakes, let me know and I'll make the edits. Google and a Cuban friend were my sources. Grammatically, I went off what I know from my Italian knowledge. But I apologize if I got anything wrong.

Translations: mi amigo: my friend Ay amigo encontraste uno bueno: Oh friend, you found a good one tu cita: your date

You can also read this on AO3 here

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The dull thud of his head hitting the wall of his closet was the only sound outside of Jason’s muttering under his breath that could be heard in his place currently. He liked silence, it was steadfast, and it allowed him to think clearly. Though in the time he had spent over at Dick’s the past week, he had come to find having soft music or the tv on low volume constantly in the background was nice as well.

It had all been overpowered by Dick’s constant need to talk, but Jason hadn’t minded that either.

Jason knew that because he had been an only child to a pair of parents that absolutely should not have been parents, he never got accustomed to constantly having people coming and going. But the time at Dick’s had showed him he could actually enjoy it. Only a small portion of the time had been just the two of them. If it wasn’t one of his brothers, then Dick’s friends (yes, he had managed to meet a couple more of the infamous harem) had an on-going rotation. Kory and Roy had proven to be Jason’s favorites so far. But from what Dick had said about Donna and Barbara, he was sure they would make that short list as well.

But while he had enjoyed the constant noise of Dick’s, right then he needed the silence he was used to because he was having a crisis: He had absolutely nothing to wear to the date he was taking Dick on in just a few hours.

He had done his research and asked the few friends he had been able to get away from Dick to see what the other man liked, and it had all been a resounding and firm fun. It didn’t matter where or what, just make sure it was fun and lively because the man enjoyed life. He liked to smile, laugh, and soak in the presence of people who were enjoying themselves. Jason’s past dates had all wanted expensive and to be spoiled. Dick was the son of a billionaire and that meant he already knew expensive. And while he wasn’t spoiled, he probably knew that already as well.

With the help of Roy, he had decided on a Cuban restaurant that was one of Jason’s favorites because the music was live and the food was amazing. The staff knew him well and he loved submerging himself in the culture. It was lively and fun and there was no way someone like Dick wouldn’t love it. He was just slightly bummed that he wouldn’t be able to test out Dick’s dancing skills since he was technically still healing from being shot.

And while Jason had clothes he had worn there in the past, this was different. He was taking a date there and not just any date. Dick fucking Grayson. The first guy he had been head over heels for in a long time. The last time he had felt this strongly about someone, she had broken his heart and Jason had sworn off serious relationships. Rose had done her damage. Dick had started to heal it. Without even meaning to, he had started to mend the broken part of his heart that Jason had tried to protect and build walls around. The man was something else.

Glancing over his limited “date worthy” options, Jason gave up and grabbed a deep red sweater that had always been a crowd pleaser in the past and a pair of black slacks. Casual but polished. It would have to do.

He grabbed the pair of shoes he usually wore with the pants he had picked out before leaving his closet and dropping the items on his bed. He had just over two hours to shower, shave, and primp before he was due at Dick’s. He could do this.

He couldn’t do this.

He wasn’t sure what he had been thinking, but standing in front of Dick’s door he was starting to second guess why a man like Dick would ever want to go on a date with a man like Jason. What could he possibly have to offer the older man? And Jason knew that this was stupid, that Dick was a smart man and wouldn’t agree to a date or even openly say he wanted to date Jason if there wasn’t something he liked about the younger man. But the panic was still there.

“There’s a security panel in his living room,” a laughing voice came from behind Jason, causing him to turn quickly to see Dick’s brother, Tim, standing there. “You know he probably knows you’ve been standing here for like five minutes freaking out, right?”

“What? I’m not…” Tim raised an eyebrow and Jason let his shoulders slump. “I’m totally freaking out and I have no idea why. What are you doing here?”

Tim held up a bag that looked like it had containers of food in it. “Alf can’t make it the normal day this week so he made the meals at the manor and asked me to drop them off. I thought you two would already be gone.”

“I’m still early.”

“I don’t care. All I want to know is if you want to come in with me now or wait to actually knock and have him open the door?”

Jason considered his options and shrugged. “Now, I guess.” Tim nodded and slipped his key into the lock, pushing the door open and heading inside. “Not like he doesn’t already know, right?” Tim laughed and headed further into the penthouse.

“Dick?! I found a dude dressed for a good time in front of your door and let him in!” Jason felt his cheeks warm at that comment but just took a deep breath and followed the path Tim took.

“What?” Dick’s muffled voice came from the direction of his bedroom before Jason watched him come out wearing a pair of dangerously low slung dark gray pants and his dark blue button up unbuttoned, exposing a tempting amount of skin. Well tempting if it hadn’t been partially marred by an angry looking healing patch of skin from his injury. “Jay! I’ll be ready in like two minutes!” Jason shrugged as he watched Dick rush over to give Tim a hug before pressing a kiss to Jason’s cheek with a whispered you look amazing and rushing back into his bedroom.

“Maybe he hadn’t noticed,” Tim commented as he opened the freezer and started moving things around to fit the containers of food he had brought. “By the way, Damian ran a background check on you and is impressed at your culinary school accomplishments.” Jason sputtered at that and looked at Tim with wide eyes, but the college student wasn’t paying him any attention.

“How..? Is this a weird Wayne thing that Roy warned me about?”

“Yup.”

“What did Roy warn you about?” Jason turned his head to look at Dick who was now completely done up and moving to the couch to pull on his socks and shoes.

“Weird Wayne things,” Tim called out, head buried in the freezer still.

“Oh yeah. Did Dames do something? Or was it Bruce this time?”

“Demon brat.”

“Don’t call him that. What did Dami do and do I need to talk to him about it?” When Tim didn’t answer, Dick glanced over at Jason to see if he knew.

“Background check. Apparently, my culinary school accomplishments are reason to be proud.” Dick looked like he was considering the actions before shrugging and going back to his shoes. “Have you done a background check on me?”

“Nah,” Dick said, standing and smoothing down his pants before moving over to where Jason was still standing and smiled up at him. “Bruce did it long before I even considered it. All I had to do was mention you one time at Family Dinner and he knew.” Knew? Dick must have seen the question in his eyes because he laughed and pressed a hand over Jason’s heart. The motion did not send a wave of warmth through his chest. Nope. “He knew I wanted to know more about you. That I would want you to know more about me.”

“That predictable?” Jason teased, raising his hand to cover Dick’s.

“Maybe. Or maybe he could tell it was different this time.”

“Jeeze, now I get what Damian was complaining about. You’re disgusting.” Jason looked over to see Tim giving them a look that spoke of bad smells or unpleasant flavors. “Aren’t you guys going on a date?” Dick huffed out a laugh and Jason dropped his hand from Dick’s so the other man could move away and gather whatever else he needed. Which was a wallet from the kitchen island and a cell from the docking station near the couch.

“All right, I’m good to go.” Dick told Jason as he double checked everything. “You’ll lock up and set alarms before you leave, Timmy?”

“I might hang out for a bit, if that’s cool? B has Selina over today and Damian is on high alert.”

“You got it. Guest room is yours if you want it.”

“But…”

Even Jason knew what that but was about and he couldn’t help but shake his head at the implication.

“What kind of harlot do you take me for, Tim? Not on the first date!” He was joking, though. With Dick? He totally would fall into his bed on the first date. If he hadn’t been shot a few weeks ago.

“Uh huh,” came the unimpressed reply. “Have fun you two. Bring back ice cream if you can.”

Dick called out his goodbye and grabbed Jason’s hand, tugging him toward the door before Jason could say much more than a goodbye as well.

“Who is Selina?” Jason asked curiously as they headed for the elevator.

“Bruce’s on-again/off-again girlfriend. They’re obviously on at the moment.” That was all Dick offered as they stepped onto the elevator and he hit the bottom for the lobby. “So, where are we going? Roy hinted that he knew but you have been so hush hush on it.”

“That’s only because it took me a while to figure out where to take someone who has probably experienced every date worthy spot in this city.”

Dick pressed a hand to his own chest and tried to look offended. “Are you calling me a serial dater?”

“Nah, but Wally did suggest that you had made the rounds in your circle of friends…” Jason teased, smirking.

“Hogwash,” Dick waved his hand. “I’ve never dated Kal or Donna.”

“Only those two?”

“Eh, it’s hard to keep track of who I actually dated and who I’ve just ‘had fun’ with.” Jason knew Dick was joking, thanks to Wally actually clearing up the fact that Dick had really only dated and/or slept with a small portion of their friend group and he had been joking. But the idea of Dick being so flippant about something Jason had been so serious about in his own life was a change.

“Your dating history aside, I actually just meant that I know Bruce Wayne likes to spend his money on Gothamite businesses. So, I assumed that included restaurants.”

“That’s absolutely true. But there are plenty of places I have never been.”

“And I found one, according to Roy. One that I frequent actually.” Dick raised a brow in question, the ding of the elevator reaching the lobby filling the small space. Gesturing for Dick to go first, Jason followed him toward the front door where the valet had allowed him to park his motorcycle earlier.

“I assume it’ll be good food then. A man with your talent wouldn’t accept anything less.” Jason simply nodded and thanked the man holding his keys out for him. “Are you going to tell me?” Jason just shook his head and smiled, handing Dick a helmet he had brought along before grabbing his own. Dick simply rolled his eyes and tugged the helmet on.

The ride to the restaurant was short, no more than ten minutes, but Jason was man enough to admit that he wished it were longer just for the fact that Dick would keep his arms wrapped around his waist. But since he couldn’t actually just drive randomly around the city, he settled for grabbing Dick’s hand to hold while they walked up to Havana, the music already easily heard from outside the building.

“Here?” Dick question, flicking the thumb of his free hand toward the double doors of the restaurant Jason had chosen. Jason nodded and watched Dick turn back to take in the choice. The smile that spread across his face was enough for Jason to know he had made the right choice. “I have heard about it but you’re right, I’ve never been.”

“Well, allow me to introduce you to one of the best restaurants in Gotham,” Jason told him as he tugged open one of the doors and let Dick walk in before him. The warmth of the room hit them immediately and Jason took a deep breath, letting the spices fill his senses before he smiled at Sofia, the owners daughter who happened to be the hostess for the night. “Sofia,” he greeted, smiling softly at the teenager.

“Jason, hi!” The girl smiled brightly before looking at Dick and Jason could tell the moment she recognized exactly who he was. “Oh wow.” Jason couldn’t help but chuckle, but Dick had his attention turned elsewhere so he nudged his date.

“Oh, sorry. This place is amazing,” Dick commented, looking toward Jason before turning to look at the girl who was so obviously fangirling.

“This is Sofia, she’s the owner’s daughter,” Jason supplied, and Dick turn his charming smile onto the girl. “We’ll take a table for two, Sof.” The girl nodded, but her eyes remained wide and on Dick. Not that Jason could blame her. Richard Grayson was a beloved celebrity of Gotham. Bruce had his own following, but Dick was considered the sweetheart of the city. He charmed everyone who came into contact with him.

“This way,” the girl said, trying to maintain some sort of professional appeal as she led them to Jason’s favorite spot and set their menus down before they took their seats. “Jorge will be over in a minute. Do you want the usual drink?” Being a regular meant the staff knew Jason’s favorites but they didn’t know Dick’s.

“I’ll wait for Jorge,” he told her, and she nodded with a smile, glancing one last time to Dick who flashed her another bright smile, before she rushed off. “You have a fan.”

Dick snorted and picked up the menu. “I tend to have them everywhere. She was sweet though.” And Jason just couldn’t get over that. How could someone be so used to that sort of attention? “So tell me, Mr. Todd, what is your usual?”

“They make a fantastic daiquiri,” Jason shrugged, unapologetic from the seemingly “feminine” cocktail.

“That we do!” Jason looked over to find the familiar waiter standing by their table, smiling at the two of them. Though, Jason could see the question in his eye when his gaze landed on Dick and moved back to Jason. “Shall I have two whipped up? It’s mango season and we just had a fresh batch delivered.”

“Oh yes, that sound like heaven.” Dick’s reply surprised him, but it probably shouldn’t have. So, he simply nodded his agreement.

“And the usual chips and dip, mi amigo?” Jason nodded and Jorge headed off to the bar to take care of the starters.

“You know, I should be upset you brought me to a place made for dancing when I’m under strict orders to avoid it,” Dick drew his attention. Jason leaned his elbows on the table and smiled at Dick, shrugging a shoulder.

“When you’re given the all clear, I’m more than happy to bring you back just to get you on that dance floor.”

“I’ll be holding you to that,” Dick smiled, leaning onto the table as well. And there was no doubt in Jason’s mind that he would do just that. “So you come here enough that you have regular orders and the waiter calls you his friend.”

Jason shrugged a shoulder. “Jorge calls everyone friend.” Dick raised an eyebrow and Jason couldn’t help but chuckle. “Okay fine, yes. I come here at least once a week. Most of the time I carry out, but a couple times a month I eat in. A lot of them also order from my truck.”

And Jason had really liked that they respected him as a customer enough to try and support him as well. It was a true brotherhood of sorts. And a lot of Gotham had that same vibe. You look after me, so I look after you.

Jason kept his eyes on Dick and observed him taking in everything around them. It was so strange to see someone who wanted to take it all in. In the past, his dates had always been more focused on the moment between them. But this sort of air between them spoke of comfort and not feeling like they had to impress each other. They had already done that. Jason was already gone and he could tell in the small touches and the smiles that Dick was right there with him.

So instead of focusing on Jason, Dick’s eyes scanned the room. Jason watched his head bob to the upbeat music coming from the stage. He saw the longing as sapphire eyes drifted over the couples dancing, pausing at a mother/son pair that caused what looked like pain to spill into his eyes. But it was gone as quickly as Dick moved his eyes over to the bar area where there were rowdy customers enjoying a sporting event while drinking.

“This place is magical,” Dick said, finally turning his eyes back to Jason. The smile on his face was comfortable and relaxed. He looked no different than when they were on the couch eating a meal Jason had prepared. And Jason couldn’t help but feel the same.

The moment was broken by the return of Jorge with their drinks and the chips. He gave a warning to Dick about the spice levels of the salsas he had put down but Dick simply waved a hand at that and went right for the hottest. And since Jason had already made his spicy chili for the man and had watched him not bat an eyelash, he just watched Jorge’s eyes widen as Dick showed no signs of trauma as he went in for another.

“Ay amigo encontraste uno bueno,” Jorge clapped Jason on the shoulder with a bright laugh and Dick smirked. Jorge probably had no idea Dick could understand. “Do you know what you’d like?”

Jason looked over at Dick and raised an eyebrow to see if he knew what he would like. Dick held up a finger and opened the menu quickly to scan it as he chewed before swallowing. “Oh, you do have it! Rabo encendido, por favor,” Dick said, accent perfectly on point and Jason tried not to take too much pleasure out of Jorge’s surprise.

“Si, best there is amigo.” Jorge looked over at Jason who simply nodded as he grabbed Dick’s menu and handed both his and Dick’s over to Jorge. “Alejandra is in the back, I’ll let her know you’re here. She’ll want to meet tu cita.” Dick’s laughter as Jorge walked away was worth the flush he could feel on his face at the teasing.

“Hey,” Dick pulled his attention away from him watching Jorge head to the kitchen. He found Dick with his drink raised for a cheers and a cheeky smile on his face. “To us? It only took us forever to get to this point, but I’m glad we’re here.”

Jason grabbed his glass and clinked it with Dick’s, his smile going soft and that warm feeling in his chest returning. “Yeah, to you not dying and me not thinking you just ditched me.” Dick snorted into his cup and Jason wanted to pinch himself because how could that action be just as endearing as the moment they had earlier with Dick’s hand pressed over his heart and his own hand covering Dick’s? He was a goner. There was no hope for him in that moment. None at all.

The ease the date started with continued on through the meals and Jason found himself enjoying a more lively side of Dick as he fed off the environment of the room. The cheerful banter he exchanged with the owner of the restaurant and Jorge left Jason even more glad he had decided on a place that meant something to him personally. Yes, there were other restaurants in the city that he was considered a regular at, but not like this. Not since Alejandra had known the woman who had raised him. How he had stayed at the Rivera house after she had died. But Dick didn’t know any of that. He didn’t know how much this place meant to him and the impact it had on his career choice because Jason had never told him. Instead he watched Dick form his own opinion on the people he cared about and let him charm them without any influence.

“You know,” Dick’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, drawing ocean blue eyes to sapphire. “You haven’t told me how you came to be a regular here.” His eyes were bright, cheeks splashed with red from the alcohol consumption, and his smile loose. A smile always so freely given.

“I’ve known Alejandra since I was young. She helped me when I had no one else.” He watched Dick tilt his head to the side, prompting him to continue. Taking a deep breath, Jason let it out slowly and steeled himself for sharing this. “She was my mother’s friend, the only one that I know of outside of her drug addicted friends.” Swirling the melted frozen drink in his glass, he let his eyes slip just past Dick’s shoulder. “When my dad just stopped coming home, I spent a lot of time with Alejandra because my mother wasn’t exactly a good parent. And when Catherine died of an OD, Alejandra took me in.”

The hand that appeared over the one still swirling his drink around caught Jason off guard and he looked back to Dick. “You don’t have to do this here. I didn’t know, I’m sorry.” And it struck him again, with those words, that he really had no idea how he had managed to score a guy like Dick. His date who just wanted to know more about the past that Jason kept under lock and key.

“I want to tell you.” Which was absolutely the truth. Jason wanted to let Dick into every corner of his life, let him fill in the empty spaces of his heart. “But maybe not here.” He watched Dick nod in understanding and Jason felt his shoulders relax a little. He hadn’t even noticed that he had tensed up, but obviously Dick had.

“Let’s square up here and then head back toward my place. There’s a gelato place a block away that Timmy likes the best, we can take a walk. Looks like a nice night.”

Jason sighed and smiled. “Yeah, that sounds perfect.” With a glance over his shoulder, Jason coughed Jorge’s attention and the man gave a nod before getting to work on closing their tab. Jason pushed to his feet and looked at Dick who’s brow had furrowed in an adorably confused expression. “They have my card on file. And Jorge knows to add 25% each time.”

“I was thinking we could split the bill, though…” Jason laughed at that idea. The glare Dick sent him was just as cute as the confusion and Jason just held out his hand to help Dick out of his own chair. “Fine, but I get to pay for the gelato.”

“Sure thing, Handsome. Sure thing.”

Dick gracefully got to his feet and brushed off phantom crumbs while keeping hold of Jason’s hand. Jason watched him in amusement before letting the older man lead him toward the exit.

“Bye Jay! Bye Dick,” Sofia called out from her post near the door. Jason paused to kiss the girl’s cheek and Dick gave her his blinding smile and a wave before the pair slipped back out into the cooling Gotham night air.

The pair were silent as they made their way back to Jason’s motorcycle and then back to Dick’s apartment building. It wasn’t until they were close to the gelato shop that Dick paused and turned to face Jason.

“Before we’re back in a crowd of people or with Timmy, I just wanted to say thank you. Not just for the amazing night, but for letting me into that piece of your life. I don’t ask about your past because I can tell it’s private. And if you want to tell me one day, then I’ll be happy to listen,” he spoke softly and Jason just remained silent, letting him say his piece. “But don’t think you ever have to tell me anything you don’t want to talk about. There are things that will take me a while to talk about and I know you’ll respect that. I just want to make sure you know that I’ll do the same.”

Waiting a moment to be sure that Dick was done, Jason took a step closer and placed the hand not still being held by Dick’s onto the older man’s cheek. “I don’t know what I did to deserve someone like you, but I’m really fucking glad I did it.” He cut Dick’s responding laugh off with his mouth, pressing their lips together in a way not too dissimilar to the kiss they had shared in the hospital not too long ago.

The feeling of Dick’s hand slipping around his hip to clench at his sweater on back told him that he had made the right move. The press of their bodies together coupled with the hum of approval from Dick was all the encouragement Jason needed to slip his hand from Dick’s cheek to his hair to angle the other man’s head just so.

When Jason finally pulled back, he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Dick chasing his lips. “Let’s get that ice cream and head back to give your brother some.”

“If you’re interested, we can put in a movie?” It was the first time Dick had sounded a bit hesitant with him since they had decided to give a relationship a try and it made Jason’s heart clench a little.

“That sounds perfect.” Dick’s responding smile had Jason leaning forward for one more kiss before they walked the rest of the way to the gelato shop.

#jason todd #dick grayson #jaydick #food truck owner jason todd #officer grayson #au: keep on truckin'#no capes #red hood #nightwing #tim drake #red robin #bruce wayne #batman #damian wayne #robin #alfred pennyworth #BatFam

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onlyhorn · 3 years

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@cadcnce gives Ram a birthday gift!

Wylan pulls something out of his pocket, pensive, he’s already feeling ridiculous and out of his comfortable shitlord zone. Eventually he comes to a point of ‘fuck it’ and just shoves his hand in to his pocket. Something jingly, metal to be sure is procured and offered to Ram. “This is… for your birthday I mean, I want you to have this. It’s a necklace my sister used to wear, it was one of the things I was able to recover from … you know.” The remains of the city that had been razed thanks to Eris. “But it’s stupid just letting it sit in my pocket. It’s pretty, she always had an eye for stuff like that. I want you to have it. I took it to a jeweler a little while ago to get cleaned up, restored… looks a lot like it did when she first got it, or at least when I first saw it.”

The short silver necklace isn’t anything to run to show off, but the cross-like pendant was well loved. Even after restoration it was likely something touched- rubbed- and held frequently as a form of comfort in trying times. Maybe even in the worst of them it kept Katelynn feeling secure. The last thing that Wylan had to remind him of her, what better place to have it than on the woman he loved and saw most every day? Shit, it was supposed to be a symbolic gesture but does that even get properly conveyed? Ugh. Fuck. What the fuck Wylan.

And so after she takes it he laughs at his own expense. “This feels so stupid, I’m sorry. Pickle Guy does all the cooking and stuff for Blue but I can’t really do that. If you want another gift I can… take you out shopping, we can get some food together. Whatever you want, Pinky. You get me every day but you’re at the helm now.” He sighs, letting the moment fall as dumb as it should before he swallows, offers her a stupid grin. “…I love you, you know. I love you a whole damn lot…. sorry this isn’t all grandiose, but my head got kinda stuck on it. I really want you to have that. So. Yeah. Happy Birthday, Ram.”

________________ Wylan had told her about her before, about Katelynn, his sister – or at least, he’s given her hints that boldly implied to his past, which even now she still struggles to fully wrap her mind around. Despite the obvious change in transparency between the two ever since the pink oni and the rambunctious human had gotten together, there are still some semblances of the past kept locked away, perhaps for better or for worse. Ram wouldn’t argue, though – she liked what she had now. She had him, she had her horn (and Hotaru by extension), and she had… what finally felt like a fulfilling life. If anyone asked her if she’d want it or have it any other way, she’d tell them that they’re full of shit and need to re-evaluate how they think about her.

Still— despite all those hidden secrets, there came a few opportunities for her to learn more and more about the person she’s grown to care so much about. Especially now, on her birthday– it’s not like she wasn’t used to receiving gifts, since the notorious maid fanclub from the town over had eloquently started a ritual of showering both the maids with gifts during this seemingly holy day. She couldn’t care less about the wild gifts the villagers offered her today, all she wanted was to stick by Wylan’s side and spend the evening with him, even if it meant missing out on potentially good gifts.

Little did she know she’d end up being given a gift that makes every other potential gift idea pale in comparison.. When she thinks about it, it’s less about the overall use or value of the gift, but rather what it means, the history it carries, the sentiment behind an item that, normally, she wouldn’t entrust with anyone, if she were in his shoes.

When Wylan first presents the item to her, she carefully takes it in her hands, eyes widened in surprise. At first, she was captivated by its beauty and design, but the truth spilled out the moment ‘his sister’ became the topic of his brief confession, and at that point, her gaze seemingly softened. Her lips did not curl into a smile or sink into a frown, and those beautiful pink hues of hers refused to gaze up at him, for reasons she couldn’t immediately explained.

In essence, what she held in her hands was a memory, not a necklace. A timeless piece of personal history, one of the last physical remnants of the family he once cared about.

And goodness, he wouldn’t shut up, would he? She’s trying to think, and here he is blabbering on about how he thinks this gift isn’t good enough or how he needs to remind her how much he loves her to try to soften up that seemingly predictable reaction.

“ Were we not already this close, I’d be berating you right now, Wylan. “ Her voice cuts him off mid-sentence, catching him a bit off-guard. By her tone, it could be mistaken that she took offense to the gift, but, no. That’s just her usual way of speaking when she is deep in thought.

“ Giving something like this to someone else… I couldn’t have imagined doing the same. If this were … say… A remnant of Rem, and the only surviving memory I have of her, I wouldn’t give it to anyone. I couldn’t find it within myself to trust it to anyone. Call me paranoid, but I wouldn’t want to lose the last piece I have of my sister — were that ever the case. “ She pauses, then lifts her gaze to stare at him a bit more thoroughly, meeting his gaze, and even standing slightly on tip-toes to be closer to his face.

“ You gave something like this to me not because you love me, but because you trust me. You trust me to stand by your side until the day you fall over and croak your last breath. You want me to stick by you for the rest of your life, and even if I wasn’t all for that, I wouldn’t have much a choice to do so. I’m practically bound by you, after all. You’ve given me the ability to live a long… happy.. life. Something that most people wouldn’t do for me. “

She lets herself fall back onto the balls of her heels, clutching the necklace against her chest, tilting her head down slightly and, finally, smiling.

“ You gave this to me because you trust me to hold onto it for the rest of my life, and protect it like you have. And I will. And you know I will. Because I don’t plan on leaving your side even if you try to play dumb with me again. “ Dainty fingers fiddle with the chain of the necklace, gently parting it and bringing it up and around her own neck, clipping it back into place and allowing the cross-pendant to come to rest over her bosom. Her hand moves to touch it, to care for it, much like its previous owner.

… And then she promptly turns around. “ However, I’m offended that you thought I wouldn’t appreciate this gift. So I’m going to be mad at you anyways. “ All that emotional and sentimental buildup, just for that…!?

“ Perhaps you can start by paying me back in small sums. A walk out to the gardens, carrying me in your arms, followed by a lovely dinner for two cooked by none other than your’s truly, and then a night spent together in the comfort of my thick bedsheets. “

— oh, no, it’s very obvious she’s just being a little playful. With a huff, she cranes backward to let herself fall against him and tucks her head in right under his chin.

“ … I love you too, Wylan. And if you ever apologize for giving me a gift that isn’t glittering gold and obviously expensive again, I’ll bury you in the floor. “ Her usual love, carrying a fresh side of snark, before she tips her head up and softly whispers… “ I promise I’ll keep this safe. Thank you… “

#[🎕] Life finds a way to get better. | IC.#[❤️] The Headmaid's sister. | MUSE : RAM.#[❤️] You can be my knight if I can be your pretty pink princess. | (WYLAN) cadcnce #[🎕] History Re:Written. | (V. MAIN)#( PLEADS LOUDLY !!!!!!!! )#submission

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jyiori · 4 years

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Slow and Steady

Arcana Fan Fiction | Khayalan Alnazar x Adrian Devorak It’s time for some self-indulgence~ Thank you ever so much for lending me Adrian, dear @lazyvoyager ~ I had a great time with this one, it’s been a while! A long one, so I’ll be keeping things under the cut. Lime? Lemon? Warning. Exploring their dynamics, mostly... I think I love them a little too much ><

Notes: Kak means elder sister / respectful / endearing term to refer to an elder female in Malay Flickering amber hues lighted the otherwise dark, dingy place. The stench of sweat, booze, and the odd sickeningly sweet perfume constantly permeated the air, while one find themselves easily drowned out by the ambient sounds of shouting matches, raunchy jokes and loud guffaws. The Rowdy Raven has always been one of Khayalan’s favourite haunts, more so because it was so effortless to mingle with the crowd and blend in with the unusual crowd that frequented the place. It was harder to go unnoticed that very night, though. The entire crew and cast members of the Vesuvian community theater’s latest performance were crammed into a large corner of the seedy tavern. Fans, admirers and detractors alike jostled for a closer spot to mingle with the cast, especially the star performers. Tall and graceful with a roguish charm, Khayalan Alnazar was born with beguiling violet eyes, lush raven locks streaked with blue and a devilishly disarming smile. He was used to being the center of attention most of the time, although his head seems far in the clouds that night. Holding his fifth tankard of Salty Bitters of the evening, he gave it a mild shake and gazed unseeingly at the swirling contents. The others paid him no heed and partied on, they knew better to than to intrude when he was in one of his ‘moods’, more so if it involves brooding over a pair of smoky grey eyes. “Isn’t that one of the Devoraks?” drawled a fellow performer, rousing him from his reverie. She indicates a heavily bejeweled hand across the room towards the entrance of the tavern doorway, where the feisty Rhys Devorak stood in an intense discussion with two rough-looking individuals that dwarfed her being. Khayalan swerved his head in sudden interest, although his enthusiasm simmered down a little when upon locating and recognizing the owner of the mop of auburn hair. “Mmn…Rhys. Why?” It didn’t take long for him to fully grasp the gravity of the situation, his eyes narrowing in distaste as one of the men started brandishing a huge fist close to his friend’s face. "I owe you one, kak Zita," he murmurs as he gets up swiftly, lips briefly brushing across the back of the veiny outstretched hand she lazily offered to him. Knowing eyes followed idly as the determined figure navigates deftly through the crowd to reach his friend. A slow, satisfied smirk appears on her face as she reaches across the table to claim Khayalan’s drink for herself – he won’t be coming back anytime soon. The oracle chuckled quietly to herself, a toothy grin showing a glint of solid gold filings. Ah. So easy, so very predictable. If the constellations are right, as they usually are… you owe me a lot more than just one, dear boy. ~~~ It wasn’t before long that Khayalan got the full gist of the dealings between Rhys and the ruffians. Negotiating a new deal however, seemed pretty bleak since his friend already traded off the item they were clamoring for. They were insistent on having her drink from a special brew as a wager, although it was as obvious as daylight what shady contents might be involved. “So back OFF, pretty boy,” the taller of the duo snarls vehemently. “Lil’ missy here deals with us.” “HEY WHO ARE YOU CALLING LITTLE –” “Look.” The word was quietly spoken, yet the icy tone it took froze all parties involved. Holding up a hand, Khayalan waited until he had the full attention of Rhys the disgruntled men. “A deal is a deal, no? Sailor’s oath? Or whatever you call it,” his eyes glinted dangerously, though he continued smiling as he spoke. “If I manage to finish every single drop of liquor wagered without passing out, that fulfills her part of her bargain. Both of you shall no longer give her trouble, yes?” Their eyes bulged almost out their sockets at the blatantly confident proposal, even Rhys tugged on his sleeve urgently. “Khayal, there’s poison –” He turns slightly to face her, long hair falling over his shoulder and obscuring part of his face from the debating brothers. Eyes narrowed into reptilian slits, he gives her a conspiratorial wink – and it returns to normal in a blink. She stares, realization dawning on her face. Oh. Right. Rhys had quite forgotten that her friend was immune to most common poisons. Not that she was really thrilled to test that theory out, but it did seem like an extremely useful skill to have in this particular situation. The brunette crossed her arms with a pout, tapping her feet on the ground impatiently. She would have preferred an all-out brawl, she’s pretty confident about winning, anyway. “Do. We. Have. A. Deal?” Khayalan enunciated each word slowly, taking a threatening step towards the towering men. They looked at each other nasty grins, passing half a bottle of uncorked wine over. He gives the wine a cursory sniff, sheer bravado waning when he couldn’t really tell what sort of poison it holds. With blind determination and a hopeful prayer, the man downs the contents as it is. Waiting eagerly for the alcohol’s effects to take hold, the duo was sorely disappointed to note even after half an hour of patient waiting – it seemed to have zero influence on the dark-haired male. Only Rhys noticed the small slips in her friend’s façade, the slight slurring of his words, the almost imperceptible flush on his bronze skin and the sweat that started beading on his face. Of course, she was not going to point that out to the thugs. Cursing the defective product and bemoaning their bad luck, the two shambled away from the establishment with their loss. Literally moments after they were safely out of earshot, Khayalan’s body gave an involuntary violent shudder and he swayed, staggering to keep his balance. Quite alarmed, the younger Devorak rushed forward to support him by the shoulder. Only upon contact does she realize that his body was almost feverishly hot. “Rhys. Rhys. I don’t think… this was such a good idea after all,” he whined pitifully, trying to walk in a straight line as she tried her best to drag him along. “You think? Idiot,” came the curt reply. “We should have stuck to my plan and kicked their butts.” There was a brief silence when all could be heard was Khayalan’s labored breathing and gasps for air, and then he broke into a faint smile upon hearing her voice again, in the faintest whisper. “…thank you. Idiot.” How they managed to arrive in one piece at the Devorak household was a mystery. Both of them were sweating bullets with the physical exertion by the time they arrived – to be greeted by an extremely upset elder brother. “Thank you for standing up for Rhys,” Adrian grimaced and shuddered at the possible scenarios that might have played out if her friend was not present. He bustled about preparing a large array of various antidotes, laying the herbs on the table. Shooing his protesting sister unceremoniously off to bed, Adrian directs a question the patient who seemed to have grown extremely fidgety in his presence. “Please can you try to describe the taste of the poison?” ~~~ Thus it soon came to light that the poison was in fact, not truly poison after all. In fact, it was an enhanced aphrodisiac. After learning the full story behind their shenanigans, the doctor felt utterly bewildered and plain exasperation about the way both of them handled the entire incident. Prescribing restful sleep as a cure, he settled Khayalan into his own bed for the night. Returning with a fragrant jug of hot lemon tea, Adrian gulped audibly and almost dropped the entire jug on the floor as he came across the sight of Khayalan. Pants nowhere to be seen, his top was dipped low to reveal an ample amount of glistening skin, almost barely covering his manhood. With the alluring expression on his face and legs spread slowly and seductively, the combined effect set poor Adrian’s face on fire with a ferocious blush and he involuntarily took a step backwards. Unsettled by the tepid reaction, Khayalan buried his face into the pillow without much thought, mumbling vague apologies as he tried sinking himself into the bed entirely. It was only a few seconds that the doctor took to set down the jug of water, quickly covering up Khayalan’s body with a blanket – but to Khayalan, it felt like an eternity. He felt a dip in the bed beside him, and a slightly hesitant but soothing hand on his back, calmingly stroking him in a circular motion until his trembles and incoherent mumbling stopped entirely. “You’ll be fine in the morning, Khayalan,” said the doctor, his voice coming out oddly hoarse. “It’s just the effects of the tampered wine.” “What if it isn’t?” the muffled response came from the depths of the pillow. Adrian blinks slowly, uncomprehending. As the younger man sits up on bed to face him, woeful hazy purple eyes meet the clear greys. “Am I not allowed to love you?” “It pains me so… doctor. Knowing I’m in love with someone unreachable.” There was forlorn sadness in Khayalan’s voice, his shoulders drooping like a wilted rose as he gazed mournfully at Adrian through his long lashes. Almost reflexively, he shifts closer towards the doctor to get a better look… oh how he simply longed to kiss away the worries in those constantly furrowed brows. Upfront honesty was rare for him, and it gave him comfort that he would have alcohol as an excuse to fall back on the next day. His mind raced ahead, fabricating even more excuses and jokes to brush off the confession. Perhaps nothing in the world would have prepared him for the answer he received. “I think… I do care for you,” Adrian blurted out despite himself, the fiery blush on his face evident down to the last freckle, especially in such close proximity. “Doct– …Adrian?” Their noses were almost touching, hot breaths mingling together. Adrian felt the heat flush on his face, but somehow, he wasn’t able – simply couldn’t tear his gaze away from the half-lidded violet eyes. Khayalan voice was slightly hoarse, yet oh so soft as he gently cupped the side of the brunette’s face with one hand, tracing the outline of his trembling lower lip with the other, “Please… may I?” It came as a surprise when the doctor made the first move. As he shifted forwards suddenly, their lips meet in a clumsy crash. Eyes widening in astonishment at first, Khayalan smiled into the kiss as he closed his eyes to savour the moment. Their arms seek each other urgently, enveloping one another with a passionate embrace that closed the distance between. He fell back onto the bed obediently at the slightest push, raven locks of hair splayed wildly over the pillows. To his absolute delight, the doctor pressed further, deepening the kiss for some long, wild seconds before releasing him to catch a breath. Instinct and heated desire taking over, Adrian finds himself trailing bruising kisses down the smooth bronze skin. Was it because of the taste of the potent drugs on Khayalan’s lips? It was as if his mind was taken over by a haze of lust. Encouraged by the tantalizing soft moans and the way the younger man arched his back for more, more – the temptation was almost too great for him to stop. However, a nagging feeling at the back of his mind kept whispering to him, a voice of reason that told him what he was doing was very, very wrong. Panting slightly, Adrian realized belatedly his own predicament as he found his arms caging the younger man… feeling a slow heat rise from his arousal as it pressed itself snugly against the other’s. Yet even amidst this moment of passion, Khayalan was quick to catch the flicker of worry that creased his love interest’s brow, the flash of uncertainty that came with it. Carefully, gently, he chooses his words, touching a reassuring hand to Adrian's flushed face, “Will you… take me?” He reads the relief in the other man’s eyes as the reply came, quite readily, as his mind snapped back to sudden clarity at the question. “No.” “Just. Not… today. Not like this,” Adrian added, apologetically. Slightly soothed by the understanding smile he received, he hastily disentangled himself from the bed to excuse himself from the room. A warm hand softly catches his wrist as he turns to leave, and he finds himself once again lost in Khayalan’s pleading gaze. “Please, will you stay?” Relenting with a crooked smile, he picks up a book from the nearby desk and settles himself into the chair next to the bed. Mustering his most practical doctor-like voice, he sternly chides the other figure, "I'll be here. Now, sleep." Comforted by Adrian’s presence, Khayalan drifts off into a peaceful, dreamless sleep. It was unusually difficult for the young doctor to concentrate on his medical book tonight, especially when he was having difficulty willing his unattended business to calm down. Busying himself, the doctor methodically sets out fresh clothes for his sister’s friend to change into for the morning, blushing lightly as a vision of Khayalan in his own clothes comes unbidden into his mind. He heaves a sigh as he sits back in the chair, frowning at the book unseeingly. Unbeknownst to him, the reason he was having difficulty comprehending was probably because he held it upside down, and mostly because he kept stealing glances at the sleeping beauty. What. WAS that about? Long, delicate eyelashes. Inky black hair with the dash of colour. Adrian had often caught himself wondering more than once, how it would feel like to run his hands along it. To idly twirl his fingers around the dark blue streaks and watch as it bounces back upon letting go. And that he wondered, even as a child when Khayalan made frequent visits to play with Rhys. Adrian himself always had his nose buried in a book. Yet he puzzled, for a long time… if those secretive glances and winning smiles Khayalan threw in his direction were truly meant for him. The odd times he would find new, difficult-to-obtain books on his meticulously scribbled read-list placed on his desk. Never an indication as to whom or where it came from, but always, always with the faint lingering smell of sandalwood incense that prevailed through the Alnazar household. They were cordial friends, that much is certain. It was mostly because of their bond with Rhys, and also because of the closeness between their families as the Devoraks and Alnazars. Had there always been something more? The way Khayalan looked at him that sometimes made his heart race, the way he phrased his words like he was hinting at something deeper. He buries his face in his hands as he remembered his vague confession, although he doubted any amount of rephrasing would sound better. Troubled by the uncertainty of the nature of their relationship, the brunette finds his eyelids drooping as he drifts off uneasily, hands folded neatly on the book that resolutely remained upside down. ~~~ It was in the middle of the night when Khayalan woke to a heavy thud, and a mild whimper. He blinked hazily, eyes adjusting to the dim candlelight. A low chuckle came from his throat as he realized that Adrian’s heavy book fell out of his lap and landed partially on his foot, and yet was tired enough to sleep through it all. Sliding smoothly out of bed, he picked up the offending book and smoothened out the creases with a murmured spell, placing it carefully on the desk. He glances at the tired person contemplatively, before just cautiously sliding an arm around the slender waist and another firmly supporting the legs. A small thrill made his heart beat faster as Adrian’s head lolled backwards, nuzzling into his neck. In slow, confident strides Khayalan reaches the bed, setting down the sleeping person without jostling him too much. Settling right next to him, he debates if he should try giving a shoulder massage, but dismisses the idea for fear of waking him up after taking too many liberties. Instead, he contented himself with gently tracing patterns and connecting the freckles on Adrian’s skin, replaying their previous conversation in his mind. It wasn’t exactly a secret, how he felt about his best friend’s brother – but to hear reaffirmation and reassurance from Adrian himself, it was as if a dream too good to be true. As the flickering candlelight peters out eventually, sudden doubt seizes him. What if it was just a rush of adrenaline, some feral attraction based on purely instinct and nothing more? Or even worse… pity? Mind made up, Khayalan gingerly removes one of his earrings and drops it onto the pillow. Landing with a gentle thud, it gleamed inconspicuously on the white cotton folds. After a cursory survey at the clothes laid out for him to change into, he decided to go with the shirt and nothing else – the bottoms looked a little too form fitting for his liking, although it would probably look divine on the doctor himself. Pausing near the door, he cast a regretful look back at the sleeping form peacefully sprawled out on the bed. The first rays of day light filtered in the windows, casting an enchanting glow on the tousled flaming red hair. How long would it take before he could laze blissfully in those warm and comforting arms, never having to leave? A twinge of dread fills him – what if this was the last time he ever gets this close? So he stared, long and hard, committing the scene to memory. From the unruly locks that framed Adrian’s chiseled features, the way the sun kissed that delightfully freckled skin, the loosened collar that showed a delicious sample of skin. Khayalan drinks in the sight thirstily like a man deprived of water, blows him a kiss before turning away regrettably. On his way out of the building, he casually saunters by a second, shorter redhead, mouth agape and eyes widened with incredulity. “Morning, Rhys.” There was no response, although Rhys’ wandering eyes intently took in her brother’s shirt and the questionable blemishes unapologetically displayed on her friend’s neck and collarbone. Before she could come to, Khayalan flashed her a smug smirk before winking conspiratorially and disappeared from the front door. It was seconds after he barely left before a high-pitched shriek of “ADRIAN–” resonated throughout the building, leaving the young lad convulsing with mirth. There was a tremendous bang on Adrian’s bedroom door, kicked open with full force. An excited Rhys stormed into the room like a mini tornado, knocking over a stack of books in her haste. “Wha…?” the prone figure startled awake, rubbing his eyes and trying to focus. “…Rhys?” “…didn’t think you had it in you,” she chatters away at top speed, not really noticing the lack of a proper response. “WAS that why you wouldn’t let him sleep in my room??” Wearily, Adrian stretches out his long limbs, his mind duly registering that he was in fact, in bed and not on the chair. Waking up with a start, his eyes darts to the empty space next to him, that side of the bed fully made up. The glint of gold on the pillow next to his catches his eye as his sister drones on, “Hey. Hellooooo, are you even listening-” Carefully picking up the delicate trinket, Adrian makes a conscious decision to return it to its owner that very day. … … Except that he nearly didn’t. ~~~ The clinic was busy throughout the day, and by the time the last patient left, it was almost dark. As the young doctor reached the magician’s shop, it stood silent and empty of its usual inhabitants. Undeterred, Adrian takes out the earring Khayalan left behind and cast out for the familiar trace of magic. Although there was a large concentration of magic residue at the shop, a fresher trail led away from the building. As he followed the gradual pull of magic, Adrian eventually found a lone figure perched upon tall crates at the docks. Heat flushed his face when Adrian realized the other individual was still wearing nothing but the shirt he lent, yet worry creased his brow as he saw how those downcast eyes were staring forlornly at the setting sun. Did Khayalan wait for an entire day…? The doctor cleared his throat audibly, rousing Khayalan from dark thoughts. The way Khayalan face alighted with joy, the dazzling smile he offered was such a stark contrast from the previous mood that it took Adrian’s breath away. With the grace of a feline, the other man leapt down from his perch and landed easily beside him. “Hey. You found me.” Wordlessly, Adrian offered the earring back to its owner, whose fingers tingled with warmth as they lingered a few moments on his hand. Surprise coloured his voice, almost as if he entirely forgotten about the jewellery he left behind, “Oh. Thanks.” There was growing disappointment in Khayalan’s heart when Adrian remained silent, although he tried to smooth things over by talking quickly. If the doctor was having second thoughts, perhaps a hasty exit would be the best for all parties involved. Turning away abruptly from Adrian, he started walking away even as he started his monologue, “Sorry… you had to come all the way for just this. I can drop off your shirt with Rhys later, after I get it washed…” Yet he didn’t manage to get far before Adrian’s shaky voice called out, halting his footsteps. “Khayal, please.” “We need to talk.” As he faced the doctor again, there was a gradual tinge of blush on Adrian’s countenance that Khayalan had not noticed in the first place, and it gave him wild hope. Sensing that Adrian was struggling with words, he offered his own. “…did you really mean what you said last night?” Khayalan’s voice was so soft that it was almost drowned by the gentle crash of the waves. The brilliant blush on Adrian’s face bloomed to the tip of the ears, and his lowered gaze fell to his own boots as Khayalan continued, “That you also care… about me, that way?” “…Yes.” Adrian mumbled without looking up, still focusing his attention on his feet. He could hear the other man shift, hear the wooden boards creak lightly under soft footsteps, and finally a pair of feet came into view, right in front of him. Still, there was enough space. He could breathe. He focused on it, taking deep breaths, trying to calm his erratic heartbeat. He was… confused. It was unusual to be overwhelmed by feelings, of this sort. No amount of reading or research could have prepared him for this. A firm hand tipped his chin upwards, letting go when his gaze lands once again on pleading violet eyes. “Would you allow me a chance…? A chance to get to know you better?” A flicker of surprise came over the red-head. Honestly, he half-thought it would be a more… difficult or intimate request. There was a slight pause, only the soothing sound of waves crashing on the rocks in the background. “I saw another shipment of books come in the other day. Maybe we can go book hunting? Or…perhaps reading… together? Drop by the theatre? Maybe, tea?” the words just tumbled over themselves in their eagerness to please, as Khayalan prattled suggestions one after another. It was all so very simple and contrary to his many worries, that Adrian just stared blankly – and then started laughing heartily, tension dissipating from his shoulders. “Perfect,” he gasped, after catching his breath and regaining his composure with difficulty. “What, tea?” a seemingly perplexed look coming over Khayalan’s face, unconsciously twisting his fingers together. “All of them.” And the dear doctor smiled, that perfect crooked smile that always made Khayalan’s heart skip a beat. Things were off to a great start. He can live with that. Khayalan reached out to Adrian then, lightly wrapping his arms around his neck, pulling him closer till their foreheads were resting against each other. They stayed like that for a while, eyes closed and noses gently nuzzling, when Adrian finally placed his hands around the other’s waist – closing the gap entirely. Even with the cooling salty mist that the waves sprayed, Khayalan could feel the heat of the fierce blush on Adrian’s face. With the warm reassurance of the hands place tentatively around his waist, life seemed like it couldn’t feel any better. It felt… it just felt right. Tipping his toes slightly to reach upwards, he placed a tender kiss right between the ever-worrying eyebrows. “Thank you.” ~~~ And thank YOU for reading it, if you’ve made it this far~! 50 points to whichever House you belong to! (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)

#my writing #arcana fanfic #self indulgent #lemon #khayalan and adrian #khayalan #adrian #rhys

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