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harryibo · 4 years

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No Working Tonight

Note:...hi jkhdskhf this is my first ever fic i’ve ever written so.....if its not good then this never happened lkdjjk. Anyways i’m not really sure how I feel about this so let me know what you think bc idk if i’m in love with it. Also, sorry for any mistakes like i’ve said i’ve never done this before lmao.

content: assistant!y/n X harry styles

warnings: none really, drinking maybe.

word count: 2.1k+

///

Y/n has been running around all day trying to get things ready for tonight. Tonight was very important and everything had to be perfect. She’s spent half of her day on the rooftop of one of Harry’s favorite fancy clubs in LA, where the party is going to be. She’s been setting up tables and making sure there was enough drinks and food for every one that RSVPed. Tonight they were celebrating the end of love on tour. Celebrating the end of the fine line era really. He’s worked so hard writing, recording and then touring. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t proud of him.

Now though, she can’t think about that, she needs to focus so she can finish up and head home to get ready for tonight. Just as she’s going over the last few things with the staff of the club, Harry walks in.

“Hey!” Y/n says when she notices him “What are you doing here? You’re Supposed to be getting ready for tonight!”

“I could ask ya the same thing! thought I told ya no workin’ tonigh’” he replies.

“Hmm, no rest for the wicked I guess” y/n jokes. “Anyways, what are you doing here??”

“Came to drop some things off ’or tonigh’, but I was serious! No workin’! Go home! Get ready! You’re not my assistant tonigh’ you're a Guest, and guests aren’t to arrive for a few more hours.” Harry replied.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry! I just want to make sure everything is perfect for tonight! You’ve worked hard.”

“n’ I’m sure it will be, you’ve worked just as hard as me love, if anythin’, tonigh’ is a celebration of you to, couldn'ta done it without ya.”

“Don’t say that” y/n says, rolling her eyes. “I just follow your orders” she fake smiles at him.

He copies her previous movement, rolling his own eyes. “go home Before I have to call security on ya, I’ll see you tonigh’ love.”

///

Y/n showed up early of course. To make sure everything was still running smoothly. And it was, of course, she was the one who set this all up after all.

As the night went on, more and more friends and family of Harry’s have arrived. She’s never seen him so happy. He was practically glowing under all the praise he was getting. He deserved it all.

“Y/n!” She heard Harry call, breaking her out of her thought. “Come over here! There’s someone I want you to meet!”

She excused herself from the Conversation she was pretending to be interested in. Making her way over to Harry, grabbing another Champagne glass off a tray of a server who walked by.

“Harry” he said, placing his hand on her back and pulling her a tad bit closer. “this is y/n l/n, y/n, this is Harry Lambert.”

“Oh, yes of course!” Y/n said, shaking his hand. “I’ve heard so much about you!”

“As have I you!” Lambert replied. “I can’t believe it’s taken us so long to meet! As we both spend as much time with H as we do.”

The night went on like that. Harry pulling her from groups of people to people, introducing her to everyone he could.

It would have been a little strange to y/n if she didn’t have quite as many champagne glasses in her as she did, but Harry did say she wasn’t working tonight after all. So why was he keeping her so close by? If he didn’t need her for anything, why was he making sure she wasn’t out of his sight all night?

A couple of new acquaintances and Champagne glasses later. Jeff stepped up on a makeshift stage. “If I could get everyone's attention for just a moment please?” He said into a microphone. “Hi, I’m sorry, I’ll let you all get back to eating and mingling amongst yourselves In just a Moment, I just wanted to say a few words about the man of the hour.”

Jeff’s promise to be just a moment did not come true. After Jeff had said a speech about how proud he was of Harry, there seemed to be a line of others who also wanted to share just how proud they were of him. And again, he was glowing. Complements looked good on him.

Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe it was just The sheer fact that y/n was so proud of Harry that she couldn’t keep it in any longer and she felt the need to share her own speech of praise in front of all his friends and family.

Mitch was finishing up his speech, so she went and stood by the makeshift stage so when he was done, he would pass her the microphone.

“Hi everybody.” y/n said into the mic once Mitch wrapped his speech up. “so I guess it's my turn to say a few words now.” she said with a small laugh.

“Um, for those of you who don’t know me, I’m y/n l/n, H’s assistant….servant, same thing right?” She laughed as did everyone in the crowd.

She made eye contact with Harry who was rolling his eyes at her previous joke. “no no, I’m just kidding, Harry’s actually really amazing to work with. He always jokes about he doesn’t know where he’d be without me, he’d truly lose his head if It wasn’t screwed on.” she laughs again. “but really, I’m not sure where I’d be if it wasn’t for him.” Her voice softened.

“I’m just so so proud of you and the man you have become H, and I know everyone else here is too. You are truely, the most selfless hard working man I know, and I just can’t say enough how proud I am of you. Congratulations on fine line.” She finishes, holding up her champagne glass as a toast, and the rest of the crowd follows.

She steps off the small stage and hands the microphone over to the next person. Walking over to where Harry is standing.

He has such a content look on his face. “hey.” she starts.

“Hi.” he smiles. “thank you.” He says, pulling her into a hug. “really, your words mean a lot to me, so thank you.”

“Of course H, I meant everything I said.” she says into his neck.

She spends the rest of the speeches by him, with his hands on both her shoulders gently swaying them both. Every once in a while she’ll look up at Harry’s face to see his endeared smile at someone talking about him on stage, or laughing at something they said.

A few more complaints and embarrassing stories later, the night is winding down and people are starting to head out. Y/n is one of the last people there, helping clean up, and making sure all the dishes and decor that Harry brought from home himself, gets back to his place.

“’scuse me? Thought I told you no workin’ tonigh’” Harry says, walking over to her.

She smiles at him. “if I don’t do this then who will?” She starts to walk to him, meeting him in the middle when she trips, almost falling but Harry reached out and grabbed her. “woah, careful love.”

“See I told you,” she said. “wasn’t working tonight, had too much champagne.”

“Yeah I see that, not really in a state to drive are ya?”

“Probably not, I was gonna call myself an Uber.”

“Nonsense, ride with me?”

“Mhhh okay, but only because I’m gonna be the one calling your car round anyways. It’s the least you can do.” She jokes.

As they walk down the stairs and to the front of the building where his car is waiting for them, Harry keeps a hand on her the whole time, just in case she falls again.

“Here ya go love.” he says, opening her door, helping her climb in, and buckling her seat belt.

“Thank you, but I can buckle myself up you know?”

“Hm, judging from that almost fall upstairs, doubtful.” Harry replies, climbing in his own seat next to her. “Home please.” He tells his driver.

“Not funny.” y/n says, laying her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes. “you have fun tonight H?”

If Harry’s heart could burst, he swears it would right then and there. “I did love.” He chuckles.

“Why are you laughing? I’m serious you know?”

“Mh so I am. You’re a sleepy drunk huh? Don’t think I’ve ever seen you drunk before.”

“I should hope not, you’ve only ever seen me when I’m working” She says, eyes still closed.

“Suppose, did you have fun tonigh’ love?”

“Mh” She hums. “I’m so cold.”

“Ya cold? Comere.” He says, pulling her further into him, wrapping his arms around her and running his hands up and down her to warm her up.

“Thanks” she says sleepily.

\\\

“Wake up love, we’re home.” y/n feels Harry whisper into her hair.

She stirs awake, still laying against Harry. Lifting her head up so she’s looking at him, their faces inches apart.

“Hi” she whispers.

“Lo’ love.”

“You’re so pretty.” she whispers at him again.

A couple moments pass before he whispers back. “thank you sweetheart, you’re prettier.”

She stares up at him again, looking at his eyes, moving down to his lips when he licks them and says “let’s go inside yeah?”

“You brought me back to your house?” She Asks while he helps her step out if the car, still worried about her falling.

“Hm” he hums. “wanted to make sure you’re safe.”

“I’m not that drunk H.” she laughs. “just a little sleepy s’all.”

“Just let me take care of ya yeah?”

“That’s my job.” she laughs as Harry leads her inside his house.

“You’re off duties tonigh’, member?”

“Guess you’re right.”

“Hm, go get yourself changed into some comfy clothes yeah? I’m gonna get ya some water.”

If she wasn’t so tired and ready to get out of her dress, she would have protested some more, but instead she agreed and headed upstairs to Harry’s room. She must have something here to wear. She has spent a couple nights in Harry’s guest bedroom when she was working too late and Harry didn’t want her to fall asleep on her drive home.

Instead of making her way to the guest bedroom. Something (the champagne most likely) carried her into Harry’s bedroom. She opened his closet doors and ran her fingers across his t-shirt section, that she just color coded a couple of weeks ago.

She picked her favorite, a white shirt with blue writing that says “enjoy heath, eat your honey” and slipped it on over her head. She also slipped on some of his boxer shorts.

Feeling more tired than ever. She walked herself over to his bed and laid down on the comforter, deciding she’d wait for Harry there.

\\\

She stirred awake for the second time that night when she felt Harry pulling the comforter over her.

“Shhh, go back to sleep baby, just covering you up.” Harry whispered.

She grabbed his arm when he went to move away. “mm, where you going?” she mumbled, Sleepily.

“Gonna go lay down in the guest bedroom Love, you stay here yeah?”

“Nooo” she whined, opening her eyes to look at him. “lay with me?”

Again, if Harry’s heart could burst, it would. “Ya want me to stay?”

She nodded her head. “Please?”

“Okay baby I’ll stay, scoot over.”

After Harry climbed into bed, she made herself at home on his chests once again.

“Comfy?” He asked.

“Mhh” she hummed, looking up at him. “Harry?”

“Yeah love?” He said, looking back down at her.

She was laying on his chests still, head facing up so that she was looking directly at him. She scanned his face, starting at his eyes, they were content, she traveled down to his lips, staying there, watching them whisper “not nice to Stare love” after a moment.

He brings his hand down to her own lips, dragging his thumb across them.

“H?” She whispers again.

He brings his eyes back up to hers.

“Kiss me.” She says.

“What?”

“Please.” She whispered back, pulling herself closer to him.

He searched her eyes for any sign of doubt. When he found none, he leaned in connecting their lips, kissing her soft at first. He pulled back, looked at her again, making sure she was still alright, then leaned back in, kissing her and kissing her, until they both ran out of breath.

She laid her chin on his chest, smiling up at him, while he’s running his fingers through her hair.

“Ya good?” He asks, smiling at her content face.

“The best” She replied.

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taegiconic · 4 years

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strawberry cake🍰

< 17. time >

sypnosis🍓 : taehyung lives change when he starts to work in his family bakery to pay his Art Institution, he used to thought it was bored until the day he mets her.

pairing🍓: artist student and baker!taehyung x philologist student!reader

genre🍓: college!au, fluff, crack humor, angst

word count🍓: 1,8k words

Masterlist🍰

a/n: so here it is!! First of all, I want to apologize if there are some grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language and I really try my best to think in my native language so then I can think of it in english ((multilingual probs, yes)) and this is also the first time I try to write something for a au. I wanted to do it a little angst because i really needed it, sorry if i made any of you suffer with it. Enjoy🧘🏻‍♀️💜

After received the message, Y/N went to the bakery. She actually was nervous, the way Taehyung called another afternoon where they hang out ‘a date’ made her have very deep thoughts. She only was thinking about how suspicious all the boys were acting, not even her roommates and her best friend, but also Taehyung's friends. She could feel like they were hiding something from her.

Taehyung was nervous too, he was a mess. He only wanted to run, as he did the day Y/N entered into the bakery for the first time. He remembers that day as if it was last week, but it actually was five months ago. He couldn't believe someone like Y/N would have has a crush on him. He really appreciated how Y/N was a really truthworthy person, he loved how her eyes speaks to him when something happends, but then, when Haneul appeared in the bakery, he lost his mind. His cousin was taking her order while he was admiring her behind the counter “what is she doing here? why today?”, those were the questions he had in his mind. His cousin, Jongsoo, hit him in the arm, making him come back to the real world:

"Isn't that Haneul?” Jongsoo said while starting to prepare her order.

“I think so...” Taehyung bite his lip while looking at her.

“She hasn't changed, she looks even prettier.” his cousin mocks him.

“Jongsoo, you know I'm not interested in her knowing how she was with me and how she broke me completly. You know I like Y/N so much and what I will do today.”

“Go and give her the order.”

“Okay, asshole.” Taehyung rolls his eyes and takes the tray.

He approaches her without do any eye contact. He was scared, he was scared of get lot in her eyes like he did two years ago. He didn't want that now, he can remember perfectly how she played with him, with his feelings and his trust, how she was getting to know someone else when she was playing with him, giving Taehyung hopes for nothing.

Y/N was almost there. She stopped in front of the door and breathed before open it. When she entered, the pleasant aroma of fresh brownie was all she could smell. She went directly to the counter. There was Jongsoo, he was smiling to her like she always does when she enters in there.

“Hey Y/N!” The lovely boy looks to her in a very soft way.

“You did brownies today?” Y/N closed her eyes and smelled again the sweet aroma.

“Yes, we did. You want some?”

In that exactly moment, she could listen to Taehyung loudly laugh. She was confussed, she changed the direction and saw him. He was 10cm close to that girl, she took one finger with cream of her cake and booped Taehyung's nose. Both of them started to laugh loudly again, like if they were the only persons in the place, they were in their own world. Y/N's eyes started to be watering. She looked at Jongsoo, that was shocked and confussed at she was. She answered to his question denying with her head. Her tears already were in the way to her cheeks, she turn back to the counter and left the place. Right when she left, rain drops started to fall in her skin, she didn't even cared if she was getting wet. She didn't want to see anyone right now, less Taehyung. The streets were empty and she didn't know in what direction she was going. She saw a bench in front of a small lake, under a big old tree and sat down there, looking nowhere while her tears still going down off her cheeks. Two minutes later, she could feel how someone opened a umbrella and sat next to her.

“I think you need this” She could recognize Namjoon's voice. “You are going to catch a cold” He put the hood of her jacket on her head. She wiped the tears of her checks and looked at him, he smiled softly. “C'mon come here” He opened his arms giving Y/N space in his chest, she comfortable accepted and he hugged her like they used to.

“How do you knew I was here?” After five minutes of silence, she spoke.

“I was in there too. I was drinking a coffee and saw you when you entered and when you left running without reason.” He looked again at her and saw her sobbing.

“Did you saw him?” Tears started to drop again off of her eyes.

“I didn't. All I saw was his cousin screaming to him right before you left and then I don't know what happened because I was looking for you in every street.” He takes a break. “I know how you feel right now Y/N.... I don't want you to see you sad again. I hope that what happened there was just a misunderstanding and that he apologizes how he has to.”

“Joon, even if he wants to apologize to me... I won't accept his apologies. What If what I saw is what he does when I'm not around of him? Imagine all the things he could do to me.”

“I honestly don't think he is like that, maybe is just someone he used to have feelings and his feelings for her still there. Sometimes, we just need to take some time. Maybe, if time passes you will accept his apologies. Sooner or later, we all need to maturate and speak like real adults about our problems.”

“But Joon...” he didn't let her finish the sentence.

“No ‘but Joons’ Y/N, I know the only thing you want right now is to shout at him and tell him he is stupid and more swears I won't say, I know you” she agreed with her head “but we can't speak when we are mad because we can worsen all, and you don't want to do that. You believe in love, you trust and you feel so comfortable with him to now throw the beautiful relationship both of you have away and try to act like nothing happened. Let him take some time to think about what he did and make a great apology, and that time while you wait for it you should also take it as a therapy for yourself.”

“Okay, I will give him some time. I was thinking in going with my parents next week...”

“But the vacation week is in the other week... Are you going to leave me alone at class?” Namjoon pouted and make her smile, he felt fulfilled when he saw her and couldn't help but smile with her.

“I'm sorry... but I have my excuse and you are agree with it”

Both of them stayed there talking. Listening to the calmly water dropping. Y/N started to feel better, even if she looked lost in her mind and in her thoughts. She could feel the vibration of her phone in the pocket of the down coat she was wearing, but she didn't care. At sometime they felt like someone was behind them watching, but Y/N and Namjoon won't said anything. All they wanted was silence and peace for a moment.

“What did I just do?” Taehyung thought. He messed all up, like he always do. After he listened to Jungsoo loud scream calling him in anger, he noticed what he did. He felt like an asshole, a completely asshole. He looked at Haneul, she was laughing of him. He looked at her with so much anger that she could felt how he killed her with a gaze. In a moment he ran to the back of the bakery to take his jacket and a umbrella. He wanted to talk with Y/N, apologize to her in some way, tell her he doesn't deserver her and how stupid he was.

He went around the whole neighborhood looking for her, he knew she would be somewhere there. When he was in the end of a street, he saw two persons sitting on a bench. He thought one of them was Y/N, but everyone in the city wears the same jacket. All he could do was calling her on her phone, but won't answer. The person in the bench that he thought that was her did not flinch. He decided to call Yoongi in his way back to the bakery, he was still working with the bouquet he ordered for the special occasion.

“Yes, Taehyung I'm on my way to the bakery” Yoongi said right when he picked the call.

“No Yoongi... I did something stupid... I called you to see if you knew something about Y/N.” He couldn't speak, he was feeling really bad about it.

“Fuck you Taehyung.” Yoongi hang up. Yoongi stopped his way to the bakery and called Y/N, but he neither received any answer of her, but knew she could probably be with Namjoon because he knew he was going to the bakery in case she needed help, and he was totally right.

Taehyung decided to call Jungkook, but news travels fast in their group of friends and he neither won't answer his calls. Taehyung was desperate, so he decided to call Namjoon. Namjoon didn't answer the call, but sent him a message.

“I know what happened. I know how Y/N is and trust me, right now isn't the best time to talk about it because her anger will make things worse. I hated to listen about what happened, but I really still trusting you, Taehyung. I know you can make her forget about it if you really do a right apology and let her have some time alone. I know you want to make it now, but think about the right words and you will receive the answer you want from her. Thank you for understanding Taehyung. She loves you.”

He couldn't help but go to his apartment reading the message over and over again. All he needed in that moment was his friends trying to cheer him up.

Taehyung felt so empty without her the whole weekend, without her messages asking how he was doing, without his movie night dates where they kiss and hug more than watch the movie. And also, he couldn't stop thinking about what Namjoon said “she loves you” was tattooed in his mind the whole time, the only thing that could give him hopes about her accepting his apology that he was working on.

Y/N was feeling like him too, empty, but she still angry. She was in her way to spend two weeks with her parents. She tried to concentrate her mind in things that weren't related to love in case she started crying in the train. Jungkook, Yoongi and Namjoon promised her that they would visit her the next week. They were really angry with Taehyung, they also really tried their best entertaining Y/N so her won't think in him, and it worked perfectly fine. Jungkook was preparing to beat Taehyung's ass the Monday on class, but Yoongi and Namjoon weren't very into violence so they decided to take the advantage of Y/N not being there and visiting him in the bakery to talk one of the days.

taglist: @1-in-abillion @biscuitete @yoongisabby @simplymemyself @slumpd0ll @ncitydreamies @lyndseygoregasmxo @taestrawberry @parkchaeyoung1997 @happyhrsme

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chocolatemillkk · 4 years

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Party (JS)

I put the final bottle of champagne behind the mini bar and adjust the cocktail bowl slightly to the left. I look around the living room, the grand Christmas tree was still up as it usually was until after New Year’s. The whole place was covered in string lights, outlining the furniture and hanging from the ceiling. This was the famous New Year’s Eve party my parents have been throwing since before I was even born and this year was the last one I’d be attending for a while, I realise sadly. This time next year I would be living in LA, in my first year of university and my parents planned to come down for Christmas and be back here for New Year’s. I wouldn’t come along. I always looked forward to this, guess I’d have to savour it the best I could.

Both my mom and dad were only children which meant growing up they made a lot of friends along the way and each year our parties got a little bit bigger, more and more families coming together for their New Year’s eve party. I always looked forward to two though, the Michaels and the Suggs.

“Are you done daydreaming?” My sister comes up from behind me. “Because there should be appetizers that need rearranging or something according to mom.”

“I’m on it,” I say mock-seriously. My mom really went all out with the food and my sister and I always teased her about it. My sister, Liz, had started uni this year but luckily she was only in London. A lot of our friends her age weren’t though, so we were missing a lot of people this year. But at least Joe would be around, I think. And Zoe.

“Put these near the piano,” my mom hands me a plate as I make my way to the kitchen. “Don’t drop them!” I pretend to struggle under the tray which earns me a stern look. “You should get ready,” my mom reminds me. “There’s only an hour before guests start coming!”

I run up to my room after gently placing the tray where my mom wanted it and put on the dress I had bought for the occasion. It was deep green satin with a plunging neckline and a leg slit that went up to my hips—a shorter skirt lay underneath so I wasn’t flashing the whole party. I usually wasn’t this risky but I figured the occasion called for it. The sleeves are almost bell-like, and I do a twirl before the mirror, excited to see how people liked it.

Who was I kidding, I wanted Joe to see me in it.

It was silly, there was half a year before I was leaving this place, but more than half my life that I’d been crushing on Joe Sugg. Sometimes, I thought he knew how I felt, I thought I was quite obvious as a kid. For a second, I thought maybe the feeling was mutual. But after truth or dare in the seventh grade, I’d tried my hardest to hide whatever feelings I had for him. I wondered if he’d noticed.

“Truth or Dare,” Olivia asks my sister, Olivia Michaels was our neighbour growing up and the one who introduced my sister and I to the world of beer and rock and roll. My sister and I were good friends with her and her younger brother Felix.

My sister choses dare and Olivia has her eat one of the gross drink concoctions we made earlier. A few rounds later, my sisters asks me.

“Dare,” I say, feeling brave.

“I dare you to kiss either Joe or Felix,” my sister says smugly.

“What? I-“

“It’s a dare!” Zoe laughs and I look at Felix, he was a couple years younger than me-he was a child...and Joe was my huge crush. There was no way I was going to have my first kiss with him like this; with popcorn in my teeth and my lips stained with popsicles.

“Unless you’d like to kiss them both,” my sister teases.

Not wanting any more pressure, I lean over and peck Felix on the lips. I can’t help but sneak a glance at Joe as I go back to my seat and everyone laughs at Felix’s flushing cheeks. But he looks uninterested.

A few rounds later, Felix asks Joe and Joe picks Truth.

“Who would you date from this circle?” Felix asks. My heart plummets into my stomach. Joe looks around, avoiding my eyes and that makes my heart race faster. He had to know how much I would die to date him. To call him anything more than my best friend.

“Liz,” Joe says my sister’s name and I felt sick. Of course he liked her better than me, she was smarter and prettier than me. I was just his best friend.

“Aw you’re cute,” my sister pinches Joe’s cheeks and his sister joins in. I excuse myself but I didn’t think anyone even noticed.

A knock at my door reminds me there was a party about to go down, or already going down, I realise as I hear voices already. “How long are you going to take? Mom wants you downstairs to greet everyone!” Liz calls through the door.

“I’ll be a minute!” I say. I take my new christmas present-an eyeshadow kit my mom had given, and the lipstick my sister gave after I used most of hers, and put on my makeup, feeling like a grown up already. So much was changing and I was buzzing with excitement.

I skip downstairs and greet everyone the way I usually did every year. This year everyone asks about school, I tell them my LA plan and they wish me luck. Over and over. Until Joe walks in with a bottle of something in his hand and I run to him, nearly knocking him down as I throw my arms around him. He smelled like the cologne he reserved for special occasions, and the soap he always used. I could never tire of it, of him.

He was as handsome as ever, a clean white button up tucked into black trousers. He’d cut his hair recently but I sort of liked the way he styled it, the soft layers looked bouncy.

“You look handsome! Where’s Zoe?” I ask.

“Food poisoning,” he hands me the bottle and I take it from him, stepping a bit back so he could see my outfit but he continues on without comment. “Mum’s stayed home with her, the bottle’s from her.”

“Duh, as if you could afford this,” I tease, pretending like my heart wasn’t just stabbed by his nonchalance. He follows me in as I sneak the bottle past my mom and hide it in the kitchen, it was a tradition for us kids to get drunk on our own stash we steal throughout the night.

“Where’s everyone else?” Joe asks. “Your sister?”

I ignore the ache I get in my chest, “Oh doing her rounds probably. Pretending she’s an intellectual because she’s done one semester at uni.”

Joe laughs and I love the sound, especially when he laughs at a joke I make.

“You-“

“Y/N! There you are!” Felix and Olivia pop in, interrupting Joe, and I give them both hugs. Olivia had brought her boyfriend this year so we get introductions and a quick catch-up before Olivia goes to find Liz and I’m left with Felix and Joe. Felix had grown to be surprisingly handsome, in a nerd chic sort of way. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was younger than me, I could have even considered dating him.

“So Y/N you look really amazing tonight,” Felix says.

“Aw thank you,” I say. “You look quite chic tonight too, is that suspenders you’re wearing under your jacket?” I tease Felix until he’s pink in the face before I turn to Joe who looks bored. I loop my arm through his, “Want to get something to eat? I’m craving some shortbread cookies.”

“Yeah. If we’re having our own party later on we don’t want a repeat of ‘09,” Joe jokes. That was the first year we had all snuck a bottle of wine from the party and drank it on an empty stomach. None of us had a good time.

“Don’t remind me,” I shudder before I call behind me. “Felix you coming?”

Joe stiffens beside me but we walk on.

•••

After a dozen devilled eggs and shrimp cocktails, I lose everyone to the crowd and find myself alone near the stairs. I watch the crowd and bask in the togetherness the holidays brought on, I would miss this a lot. I almost didn’t want to go when I was in moments like these, but I knew what I wanted from life and I knew I couldn’t stay in dreary UK for it.

As I look around with the room so full of lights, the corners of my vision suddenly warp and distort into a blurry mass. I blink a few times but it remains. This was so not happening.

I sit myself on the step and close my eyes, placing my head on my knees but as I do that, the nause creeps in. This was getting serious. Perfect.

I go up to my bedroom quickly and close the blinds, shutting the room in darkness. I unzip the side of my dress to give my room to breathe and lay down.

Of course I had to get a migraine the day of new year’s eve. My last party for a while. I groan and turn to the side, blindly groping for any pill bottle, not wanting to risk turning on my phone light.

I lay in the dark, I don’t know how long. Time passed slowly in the dark, the only thing I could hear is the muffled sound of the party downstairs. My phone vibrates a few times but I don’t dare look at it. I wanted to nip this migraine before it could come full force. I couldn’t believe this was how my year was going to end, I think. And without meaning to, the tears leak out from my eyes. Stupid migraines and stupid Joe Sugg! He hadn’t even noticed what I was wearing, he didn’t even care. He fancied Liz more than I and I was still crushing on him like an idiot. I wasted my high school years waiting for him. And now I was going to graduate soon, with no history of a relationship and no...

A soft knock interrupts my pity party. I wait again as the knock sounds, just to make sure I wasn’t hearing it.

“Y/N,” it was Joe.

I swipe at my face, pulling my blanket over my face. “I’m here,” I say. “You can come in.”

I hear the door creak open, the noise from downstairs flooding through before the closed door muffles it again.

“Migraine?” Joe asks. We’d been friends long enough that he knew exactly what was going down. I sense him standing at the edge of my bed, the room still in darkness.

“Yeah,” I inch the blanket off my face. It’s not like he could see my makeup streaks in the dark. “Great timing right?”

“Can I do anything?” Joe asks. God, I scoff, I thought I could just turn my feelings off for him but him just asking that brings them back full force. “Maybe some water...”

“I’ve got water,” I say. I sense him shifting around the room.

“Didn’t you used to have those ice packs?” Joe knows his way around my room, he often came over when we did homework, or in the summer before we would go out with our other friends. He locates where I kept the freeze packs and he cracks them, walking towards my bed and sitting on my sheets. “Here.”

He places one on my neck and I flinch at the cold.

“Sorry,” he mumbles before putting it back on.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, the cold already numbing the throbbing in my neck. “Thanks Joe.”

“It’s nothing,” Joe whispers back. I take the pack from where his hands hold it and hold it myself as I gently turn in bed, the little light streaming in outlines his sitting figure.

“You don’t have to stay here,” I let him know. “Go back to the party.”

“It’s no fun if you’re not there,” Joe says. He slowly inches himself down beside me and the smell of him invades my nose. Oh no.

“Joe your cologne-“ I say and he quickly gets up.

“Oh shit right,” Joe stands and I see the shape of him pace away from the bed. “Uh, I can go home and change-“

“Oh my god,” I let out a laugh and cut it short as my head throbs. “You’ve left so many shirts here when we go swimming in the summer. Just put one on if you want to stay here so bad.”

“I’m just here to avoid everyone asking what my plans after school are,” he jokes. “Are they in the bottom drawer?”

“Yeah,” I respond. “Tell them you’re still figuring it out.”

“Everyone here has kids who are doctors or some shit,” I can hear the Joe changing and I try to keep the inappropriate thoughts at bay. “That’s not an acceptable answer.”

“Who cares what they think though,” I say. Joe joins me back in bed, laying down to stare at the ceiling as I look at his profile, barely illuminated by the light peaking through my blinds.

“Sometimes I do,” he says quietly.

I find his hand and squeeze it. He squeezes back and then turns to me. “So are you going to tell me why you were crying before I came in?”

“I was not crying,” I lie.

“You so were.”

“Was not.”

“Was too,” fingers graze my jaw and I’m busted. “Your face is still wet.”

“Fine,” I sigh. “I was just upset I was missing the party.”

“And?”

“I dunno, it’s my last party for a while!”

“Oh yeah,” Joe quiets down. A moment passes. Then another. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“We still have like 7 months together, don’t cry for me just yet.”

“You’re the one that was crying,” Joe shoots back.

“Shut up!” I joke. “Can’t you let me win? I have a migraine!”

“How is it?” Concern creeps back into his voice.

“The usual, I just have to tone down my senses. It’ll get better.”

Joe’s hand moves up to my face and cups it, my heart fluttering, the blood rushing to my face and joining the dance my migraine was putting on in my head.

His hand creeps up into my hair and suddenly his hand is plucking out the pins from my hair, and putting it on my bedside. Of course he was just being helpful while I was getting all bothered. “Do you want to get into something more comfortable?” He asks. I try to ignore the way I felt with his body hovering over mine in the dark but my mind blanks for a moment. “Y/N?”

“Oh I have every intention to go back to the party later,” I say. “This dress stays on.”

“It’s a great dress,” Joe says.

“It is isn’t it,” I say, noticing how uncomfortable Joe was getting. He actually noticed. Why didn’t he say anything earlier?

“I mean,” he clears his throat. “You looked...beautiful.”

I pause, pure joy rushing through me. Joe noticed me, he said I was beautiful. And oh god, all these things happening in my body were not helping my migraine. But I wasn’t about to tell Joe that.

“Thank you,” I say softly, too afraid to break the moment.

“It’s nothing new though,” he says just as softly. “You always look beautiful.”

I look at him, squint in the dark to try to read his face but it’s hard to. Was he saying this because I was having a shitty time or did he actually mean it?

“Not as beautiful as Liz though,” I deflect, deciding he was just taking pity on me. “She’s the one with the looks in the family.”

There’s a deafening silence around us, I can hear my heart beating in it. He wasn’t denying it, I want to cry.

“She is...beautiful sure, but you’re something different Y/N. You bloody take my breath away every time I see you.”

I want to cry for other reasons now. Was this really happening?

“Sorry,” Joe interprets my silence as rejection and begins sitting up to go. “The dark’s just made me stupid, I said way too much and-

“Joe,” I try to cut through.

“You obviously just, you need to rest and I’m-“

“Joe Sugg,” I say again and grab his hand. “Lay back down you big idiot, your blabbering is making my head pulse.”

“Right,” Joe lays back down but I can hear his quick breathing. I was glad to know he was just as nervous. I still have hold of his hand and I place it around my waist, inching closer to him.

“When?” I have to ask.

“Do you remember when we had our second friendiversary?” He asks. I did. We met when we were both 7 after our parents had set up a play date and we got along so well we knew we would be friends instantly. We’d spit on our hands and shaken them, declaring that day our friend anniversary, and we’d celebrated most years since. “You had your parents drop you off on your way home from your nana’s because it was our friendiversary and we didn’t see each other all summer. And your nana gave you cookies for the ride home, and you saved me the peanut butter ones? I don’t know, when you came in that day I just took a look at you and I had butterflies in my stomach. You were there ever since school let out and I’d missed playing with you for so long. I think I realised I missed you more than just a friend that summer. And when I saw you-“

“I actually remember.” I join. “Because you had just stared at me with your mouth open. And I just put the cookies in your open mouth. I was angry I thought you were looking at me like that because Liz had put gum in my hair a week before and my nana had to cut a lot off.”

“Yeah,” Joe chuckles. “I remember that too.”

“And since then?”

“Yeah,” Joe’s hand curls around my waist.

“What about the seventh grade? Truth or dare?”

“You bloody kissed Felix!” Joe exclaims.

“I...you picked my sister because I kissed Felix? He was like 10!”

“I was stupid.”

“Was? If I was feeling better I would be slapping you right now.”

“Good thing you’re not,” Joe tugs me closer. Our faces are inches apart, and I want to lean over and just kiss him so bad.

“What’s taken you so long,” I whisper, my fingers resting on his face.

“Scared I would ruin our friendship. You’re so much better than me, I thought you would laugh if I told you.”

“You are so ridic-“

“Shh,” Joe shushes me. “Do you hear that?”

I quiet down and listen as the party downstairs begins counting down to New Year’s. Suddenly my hands are clammy, this was it. I was going to kiss Joe Sugg once and for all.

“5...4...3...” Joe whispers between us.

“2...” I get out before Joe closes the space and kisses me, his lips so soft, my head feeling like it would explode. And not just because of the migraine.

“Wow-“ Joe gets out before I go in for a second kiss, the cheering downstairs drowns out as I pull Joe closer to me, closer, finally the love of my life was in my arms.

We’re moving too quickly, a wave of nausea hits me and I pull away.

“Sorry was that too quick?” Joe panics.

“Head,” I say as I squeeze my eyes shut.

“Shit,” I feel him sitting up and hovering over me, probably looking for the ice pack because soon the cold feeling returns to my temples.

“Thank you,” I whisper. He places a kiss on my lips as I stay still, trying to ease my nause. I feel a kiss on my jaw, then my neck. “Do you have to go home?” I ask.

“Nope,” Joe shifts beside me, I feel him get under the blanket, and he pulls me close to him. He lays his hand gently over me and I settle in beside him. What a New Year’s.

•••

“Y/N!” My sister’s voice wakes me and my eyes fly open. She stands in my doorway with her jaw open and I realise she’s staring at the weight on my right side. Joe.

“What?” Joe mumbles, awakened by my sister barging in.

“Oh my god!” My sister squeals. “It’s happening!” She runs out my door. “It’s happening!” She yells out to whoever was awake. And if they weren’t awake, her commotion sure woke them.

“She’s crazy,” I mumble before turning to Joe, the evening rushing to catch me up. He’s still only half asleep. When I call his name, he only groans and pulls me closer to him, hiding his face into my neck. My heart flutters, it felt like we’d always been together like this.

I allow myself the small pleasure of running my hands up into his hair and he groans into my neck, lifting his face up to look at me. Suddenly he starts laughing.

“Way to make a girl feel confident,” I’m suddenly self conscious as I get up.

“You do realise you’re in yesterday’s outfit? Including your makeup?” Joe asks, his voice hoarse.

“Shit!” I run to my mirror and laugh at what I see. “I’ll be back!”

I grab a spare shirt and move to the bathroom where I clean up and brush my teeth. My skin looked awful having slept in makeup but the glow I felt from waking up next to Joe kills any issue I might have had with it.

When I get back to my room he’s already up, the bed is made, and he’s folding his clothes from yesterday.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” I say as I walk to him. Immediately he catches my hand and pulls me in.

“Your head?” He asks.

“Great. Yours?”

“Clear as day. Glad it listened to my heart this one time.”

A smile creeps onto my face as the realisation of what he said settles in but pulls me in and kisses it off.

“Happy new year Joe,” I whisper when we part, pulling him in for a tight hug.

“Happy new year Y/N,” Joe whispers back. “I think it’s going to be the best one yet.”

#joe sugg #thatcherjoe #joe sugg imagines #joe sugg imagine #buttercream imagines #buttercreams #youtube imagines #jack maynard #caspar lee #fic #new year imagine #qd

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greenninjagal-blog · 5 years

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Deja vu pt2

Wow, I did not expect this to get the following that it did. I’m so glad you guys are enjoying this! Here’s part 2 But if you missed part 1 you can find it [here]!

Summary: Four years after Remus runs away, he makes a friend and gets to see even more death.

Words: 5293

Read on Ao3 || My general writing Masterlist

Remus spends his twenty first birthday at his favorite location: The Basilisk Casino. Its a nice place, the type of place that drains life forces with people along with their wallets. The golden walls shimmer like scales if you look too long at them, which is all the more reason to focus back on the dice, the slots, the chips and coins and cards. The coins all have snarling snakes on them and Remus just loves rolling his thumb over the crevices of the design while he watches his opponents sweat. He can’t count the number of times he’s been cursed out at the table, the number of times he’s been checked for bugs by the debugging crew, the number of times that he’s had several dealers and security watch him as he played at the tables, the number of times where he cashed in his coins and called himself “Lucky”.

Luck, of course, has nothing to do with it.

But he usually walks out of the casino several thousand dollars richer and it’s nice. To have money, to have a room in the upstairs hotel that he paid for himself, to have clothes that he picked out, to wave his excess cash in the faces of every person who’s tried to figure out how he’s cheating.

(Because they all know he’s cheating. One doesn’t go a full night at the tables without losing once. It's actually impossible.)

((Unless, of course, you can see the future.))

Remus is twenty one and he’s never lost a game of cards.

The staff has mixed feelings about him and Remus knows this, because they hate cheaters when it reflects badly back on them-- and boy did a lot of them get yelled at those first three weeks before Remus had asked his poor dealer to invite her boss to the table to play-- but the number of cheaters that Remus outed purely for the fun of seeing their eyes go wide has landed him in the good graces of a few.

Which is weird, being in the good graces of people. And so is knowing that if he finds that one cute dealer with the scar on his knuckles, they’d go up to Remus’s room and they’d spend the night with two bottles of Baileys and no clothes.

“Hit” Remus sings as he knocks on the table behind his cards. His dealer, a girl who’s been working for a while and knows his tendency to give her instructions before she’s finished dealing to everyone at the table, nods to show she’s seen him. The players to his left and his right both glare at him.

Remus smiles, because he already knows what cards they’ve got and what they were going to bet now that he’s announced himself: the old guy with the silver watch was going to stand, the loser with the mullet was going to hit as well, and the woman who’s tag was sticking out was going to hit then split.

Only that old guy was going to walk away with any money earned, four rounds later, after the lady loses everything she made in a risky gamble and the slots catch Mullet head attention.

Remus stays because he likes Blackjack, likes the easy memorization, likes the repetition and the exchange of chips, and he flips one of his Barneys in the air as he waits for the table to refill.

“That’s certainly impressive,” A voice says sounding like silk even over the chattering of the slot machines to their backs.

“This? Its nothing!” Remus flips the coin again, letting the stranger catch it in the air. “I’m more impressive in the bedroom.”

The man hums, twisting his wrist to look at the coin he caught. “Do you often let people steal 500 American dollars from you?” The man asks so very teasingly as he rolls the coin between his own gloved hands.

“You’re going to give it back,” Remus says with a grin, “One way or another!”

The man has a nice smile-- a smile far nicer than the one the dealer with the scar on his knuckles has-- and its prettier in the present time than looking at it in the future. His teeth are all aligned and straight and his molars grind together just enough to look like a threat. He was dressed better than most of the people out tonight: no fancy tourist with rented suits that barely fit, and he had an actual handkerchief.

Remus wonders if he pulled it out would it be tied to another and another and another like every other clown he’s met?

--No. The man just laughs at him and and twirls the Barney between his hands.He does not ask for it back.--

“You’re awfully confident about getting your money back when this is a game between the house and I,” the man says. He’s got green eyes, and black hair that’s gelled right back out of his face. The way he leans against the table makes him so easy to push--

--The man hits the ground spilling his rack of chips and the nearby tables pounce on them like panthers. Its honestly funny to watch and Remus laughs the entire time as the police are called.--

“I’m confident about a lot of things,” Remus wiggles an eyebrow at him. “How confident are you?”

Instead of answering the man places the purple coin in the betting square on the table. Remus tosses a pumpkin just to top him.

“I heard a rumor that there’s a man here who’s never lost a game before,” The man with the green eyes says and even though there are four other people at the table (betting far lower than them of course; the table minimum is twenty five), Remus feels almost as if its just the two of them in the world. “Can I assume that man is you?”

“You know what they say about assuming,” Remus laughs as the dealer begins her deal, “It makes an ass out of me and you!”

There’s a four of spades in front of him, and an ace of clubs in front of the stranger. The dealer has a five of diamonds.

--He hits and receives a King of diamonds that puts him at fourteen. The stranger also hits, and receives a matching King of diamonds. He stands and the dealer reveals her second card: a jack of clubs. Fifteen to Fourteen to the house.--

--He hits and receives a King of diamonds that puts him at fourteen. The stranger also hits, and receives a matching King of diamonds. He hits a second time and receives a three of clubs. The dealer reveals here second card: a jack of clubs. Seventeen to fourteen to Remus--

The stranger is watching him, Remus notes with a feral grin as he taps the table behind his cards for their lovely dealer. The stranger who was betting using Remus’s money, scans the table and then taps as well.

The dealer gives Remus and Dee their matching Kings of diamonds.

“What are the chances,” The stranger muses. “Perhaps I should bet with your money more often.”

Remus taps the edge of the table behind his cards again.

“Don’t worry about that!” Remus waves him off, “You’re going to lose it in Poker in an hour.”

“Are you challenging me to a game?” the man says, half turning from the table to wave down a drink waitress. “Why would I ever want to play a game of cards with a man who doesn’t lose?”

“Beats me!” Remus admits, “but we end up over there anyway!”

The stranger laughs. It sounds like a melody to Remus’s ears, something soft and warm and Remus thinks he should hate it. Whats the point of soft and warm things when there are chips and cash and not-completely-terrible-whiskeys? Soft and warm things are illusions anyway: no mother’s love is unconditional, and no late night blanket forts in his brothers room last forever.

Isn’t it great? That whole “growing up” thing?

He’s thought about making a call with the payphone but Roman’s old number is someone else's now and Mom answers the landline with a different last name.

Remus is twenty one. Roman should be too. If he managed to stay alive this long without Remus being his godforsaken guardian angel.

The waitress returns with the drink and its a screwdriver that smells like oranges even from where Remus is standing. The stranger gathers up his chips won in the game, and slots them back into his rack.

“Well?” He says, “I would like to see this cheating trick of yours.”

Remus laughs at him taking his own tray. “No one knows my trick.”

“Oh?” The man sips his drink, “No one knows? Do I get a prize if I figure it out?”

Remus’s shoulder brushes with the man as they walk towards the poker tables. Its quieter here, away from the slot machines, and the tables are thick with intense glares at cards. The craps tables are going strong and someone must have just won big because everyone is clapping and someone is screaming. The roulettes are hardly any better, although Remus nearly cleared out a whole dealer last week with his multitude of correct guesses that got him physically dragged from the table because its literally a 1 in 36 chance every single game and theres no way anyone should be able to win three times in a row, much less fifteen.

“I’ll tell you what,” Remus says as they join a table for poker that was just clearing up. “If you can figure out my trick, I’ll do one thing for you.”

“For me?” The man echoes, “Interesting. Anything I want?”

“I will fuck you on this table if you tell me to,” Remus says, making the woman next to them choke on her pina colada.

“Charming,” The man hums, “But I believe I have a much better thought in mind.”

He’s taking it surprisingly seriously and Remus knows he should probably be concerned, but the truth of the matter was, he wasn’t. After all, he spent nine years physically telling the people closest to him that he could see the future, and they didn’t believe him. A strange man who was going to lose the first three hands is never going to believe in a magic like that.

The irony of it all. Remus wonders what he did that pissed off the big G up there so badly that they cursed Remus to never be believed. Maybe he should have just changed his name to Cassandra and started wearing tunics around the casino (because hell yeah those things would have been much more breathable than these slacks and button up he was currently wearing). Plus a tunic would totally show off his calf muscles.

--He gets to play three more games of roulette before he’s forced out by security who ask him very nicely to put on pants before coming back and Remus just thinks its funny how he got in to play in the first place. Turning the poor door boy bright red and stammering--

There’s something fascinating about the way the strangers lips look around the straw, the way his eyes settle on the cards of the table the way his gloves fingers weave over his chips with the certainty of someone who knows what they are doing. Remus thinks that he might have played a game with this man before, once or twice, (because he comes here often enough, doesn’t he?) but his memory hasn’t been great since he was seventeen and thought about crushing his brother’s windpipe.

Remus is twenty one and this stranger looks like danger no matter which way Remus squints at him. But is that such a bad thing?

“Are you going to look at your cards?” The man asks without looking at him.

“No,” Remus says, because he already has in the future and he’s got a seven and an eight both of diamonds. (The strangers fingers hover over his own cards-- a five of clubs and a jack of spades-- and his green eyes darting to glance at Remus in suspicion.) The other players at the table shift nervously and Remus thinks that even the old lady at the end is going to pitch a fit about Poker etiquette but she holds her tongue.

He sees ahead to the rest of the hand, something he glanced at earlier. By the time the dealer draws the turn card, Remus not looking at his cards makes the the business man to their left over confident about his chances about his straight. The couple on his right have both individually decided to back out, and the old lady is holding nothing but a two pair. She folds when she realizes that neither Remus nor the very attractive stranger to his left are going to fall for it.

The stranger folds, the businessman checks, and Remus wins the round with a straight flush without having picked up his cards before revealing them.

“You’re cheating!” The business man yells and Remus grins at him as he takes the two blacks and the quarter that the man bet with.

“Not in any way that you can prove, big boy.”

He’s twenty one and he wins the next three hands before the table clears out of all but him and the stranger who followed him there. Security is called twice to deal with another debugging ritual at the old lady’s insistence and the the dealer is screeched at by several parties. Remus thinks the old guy handles it with grace and elegance: threatening to have security called over if the players don’t sit down right then and there.

“How much do you make in a night?” The stranger asks, as the dealer changes from the older gentleman to a young girl.

“Are you planning something?” Remus asks, inhaling the scent of oranges that waft off this stranger, “Gonna get me drunk and in bed and then steal my money? Slit my throat for good fun?”

“I don’t think I’d have to get you drunk for that,” His eyes slide past Remus for a moment to something across the room.

“Oh, so true,” Remus agrees, “Everyone loves a good bit of knife play!” The dealer begins to shuffle the cards to nicely.

“Besides,” Those green eyes come right back to Remus, startlingly close and perceptive in a way that makes shivers run down Remus’s back. “Shouldn’t you already know the answer to that?”

Remus is twenty one, spending his birthday in a Casino as far away from where he grew up as he can be. And despite not having talked to his family in four years, he can still hear Roman’s voice in his head, chanting a mantra of “I don’t need you”, “I don’t need you”, “I don’t want you”.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, pretty boy,” Remus says picking up his cards to look at them, to feel them, to remind himself he’s here in this casino and not back in the room with his hands on Roman’s fluttering little pulse.

The stranger rolls a Barney from his tray, Remus’s Barney, and places it on the betting pool. “Interesting.”

Remus wonders what that means, but there’s no answering vision. Any time he pushes the stranger laughs it off until the dealer motions for them to play or leave the game.

Remus is twenty one and the way that this stranger said “interesting” is the way a scientist says it before they start dissecting a frog. Clinical, cold, like a knife straight to Remus’s throat. His green eyes are dangerous pins holding Remus in place at this table, but he can’t find it in him to wish he was anywhere else.

The stranger picks up his new cards and pretends to look at them. Remus isn’t sure what that means, isn’t sure why this stranger suddenly seems so much different, isn’t sure what could possibly be more interesting than the card game they're playing.

Until he is.

Of course because--

-- He places another three blacks in the betting pool in front of him and he turns just in time to see the stranger lunging towards the crowd that was passing behind them; towards the armed security guard that was wheeling the fucking cash box of the casino towards the elevator to the vault across the floor fuck. Several guns go off and and there’s a couple hundred screams that break Remus’s eardrums in the moment, but all he’s aware of is the body at his feet, the body of the stranger with pretty green eyes, with welts of red bursting out the back of that nice tailored suit that was suddenly shredded and that face smashed into the floor, but there’s no mistaking the way his skin on the left half of his face wasn’t--

There’s something in the back of his throat that tears him up inside, like he’s regurgitating a bunch of swords he forgot he had swallowed. Every hair on his body stands on end, curling with an electric current that didn’t actually exist but one that Remus couldn’t get out of his veins even is he started carving with a knife--

He forgot-- how did he forget? He hated the color red so damn much; how could he have forgotten that?

He grabs the stranger beside him with an iron grip and pressed him to the table as that cash box rolled by, as that future twists away, as that sight fades from his vision from something plausible to a nothingness in the back of his mind.

“Sir?! Sir!”

The stranger gasps for air, looking caught between surprised and not, with those fake green eyes and that stolen black hair, and that completely unmarred face and makes Remus’s skin crawl. Remus wonders if this stranger--this stupid idiot of a stranger-- knows his body reverts to normal once he’s dead and gone and passed.

The rest of the table is in chaos, and Remus isn’t sure if its because both his and this stranger’s chips just got tossed across the table with the viciousness of a life or death (or death or death or death) situation, or because the Dealer dropped her deck, or because Remus just grabbed a man and that wasn’t poker etiquette or something else entirely.

He doesn’t care.

He lets go of the stranger (the living, breathing alive stranger), and he shoves through the buzzed, singing pair behind him, knocking them both to the ground. His hands-- oh fuck his hands sting and shake with some emotion that Remus can’t remember the name of.

“Sir! Your chips!”

Remus rips at the collar of his shirt, tearing off an entire button as he struggles to get enough oxygen in his lungs. The golden walls shimmer and shine and distract, but Remus throws himself through the crowd to the exit.

Remus is twenty one the first time he meets someone else like him.

Well not entirely like him, because this stranger who stumbled upon him by chance doesn’t see the blood, or the deaths, or the future. He doesn’t know all the consequences, doesn’t know the feeling of seeing living, breathing people just stop, doesn’t know what it smells like to mix blood and a half finished screwdriver on the floor of a casino for a box of cash that he had no chance of leaving the building with in the first place.

The night air hits him like an eighteen wheeler (which Remus knows what that feels like, he does, because he thought about it once out of curiosity four years ago when he couldn’t quite believe that he had wasted seventeen years of his life on someone who would never been willing to do the same). Its bitter cold and harsh and it tears his skin almost right off his bones.

He stumbles and nearly falls, does fall, is caught.

Caught by the back of his shirt and hoisted back up, with a second hand stabilizing him by his chest. Remus starts to laugh because he didn’t see this coming. Of course he didn’t see this coming.

Its almost like that day when he didn’t see that argument with Roman coming, except back then he was looking ahead and that wasn’t an option, and now he just hadn't been looking long enough, hard enough, close enough.

Remus feels something against his back, solid, cold, oh its a wall. The stranger who followed him from Blackjack to poker, who bet with Remus's money, who just caused Remus to lose his first game of cards ever-- that stranger with green eyes that aren't real is right in front of him pressing him to the wall and holding him steady.

Remus laughs harder like he can dislodge the cancerous lump in his throat by the force of his will alone.

"Did I die?" The stranger asks as Remus wheezes for air.

And isn't that just hilarious?

"Everyone...dies!" Remus convulses under the man's touch, "Everyone dies... someday, Scales!"

The stranger isn’t like him, because instead of seeing things and wondering if they’re all in his head, he fucking changes his appearance.

Remus hiccups painfully-- a gasping air that shreds his diaphragm as he laughs with tears on his face. He forgot again: how he hates the sight of red, how he needs to breath if he wants to keep living, how he's too old to be crying over every single, little, itty, bitty death he sees.

"You can see the future," the man says like a statement while Remus drags his nails over his own face and through his hair to get rid of his worthless tears.

"Its funny!" Remus grins with all his teeth. "It's always funny! Did you know you revert back to your natural half snake self when you die?"

The stranger flinches, just like everyone does when Remus opens his mouth and talks about death, just like someone who’s afraid of dying, just like Roman.

“You,” Remus says gaining enough sense of his own to shove the stranger off of him and back, “You are…batshit fucking insane!” He laughs, because what else is there to do? Scream? Cry?

(He’s screamed and cried before. It doesn’t work, because they never believed him and then they go and get hurt and tell Remus to shut up, shut up, I don’t need you--!)

“How far in the future can you see?” The stranger asks.

“Take me to dinner first,” Remus twists a hand through his hair, then drags it down his face, smushing his nose and flattening his mustache and then dropping it into the empty air.

The stranger catches his hand, and the silk touch of the gloves freezes Remus’s where he stands, against the wall of a casino in a dark alley where the shimmering light doesn’t touch and the sound is strangely diluted.

“Answer me,” the stranger demands.

Remus laughs, “Or what? You’ll turn your hands into claws and rip my throat out? Maybe roll your body into a giant python and choke the life out of me without leaving a fingerprint? Can you secrete poisons too? Spit them right into my eyes--”

His other gloved hand goes right over Remus’s mouth, squeezing the hallows of his cheeks until its just borderline painful. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Remus already knows the answer before this stranger asks, already knows that despite the burning closeness between them, despite the cool indifference he’s been portraying, despite the millions of ways that he could kill Remus, he’s not going to, not in any way that matters.

He’s a good guy like that.

Kinda.

“You must think I’m insane,” Remus gurgles, shoulders shaking from laughing, with the future in his eyes and no air in his lungs.

“Are you?”

“Not that insane. Not yet!” He pushes off the wall and leans forward into his companions personal space until their faces aren’t more than a few inches apart. “Can’t you tell? I’m the pinnacle of stability, Slitherous Snape!”

“Stability is a lie made up by society to sell more products.” The man waves him off, easily without putting so much as an inch between them. “You are a seer. And I’m in desperate want of someone who can see the future.”

“Because you want to rob the casino we just left,” Remus says.

It sounds different coming from his own lips rather than the man before him. It sounds different hanging in the space between them. It sounds different being a real thing.

“Because I want to screw over the owner of that casino for some unsavory acts he performed against someone who was dear to me,” The man corrects.

“An altruist!” Remus does a shimmy with his upper body. “All that money is just a bonus then, right?”

“Oh yes absolutely! And How…” The man hesitates and clears his throat innocently, “How much money…did you say?”

Remus laughs at him, again. The hysteria is fading leaving another pesky emotion that Remus doesn’t know if he likes or not. Its dangerous, he knows that. Dangerous because even while he stands here, talking to this shapeshifter who is every bit a lie as a person can be, he feels his heels beginning to dig into this idea.

This stupid awful terrible idea. This What if---

---oh…. Oh no.---

“How many times do we die?” The man asks, breathlessly excited. “How many times do we get away?”

Remus is twenty one and he knows that stealing is morally wrong.

But.

But there’s a man in front of him who likes money far too much and a casino behind him that’s filled to the brim with cash waiting and six hundred fifty million futures where they both die painful, violent, expected deaths.

And for once Remus can’t even focus on that part of this frankly awful idea. He’s too busy focusing on the way that in every single future-- all of them-- there’s not even a little--

Remus watches them again and again, as many times as he can until he almost forgets that they haven’t even happened.

And oh.

The stranger is looking at him and there’s something in those green eyes that he can’t hide even if he wanted to.

“There’s a dealer,” Remus says, because he needs to see it happen for real. “Two inches taller, blue eyes, scar on his knuckles. Turn into him.”

The stranger blinks and his eyes are blue, his skin ripples like a puddle when a child jumps in it, and suddenly Remus is staring at someone completely different and yet entirely the same. The man before him is the dealer from the casino, but when he smiles so softly all Remus can see is that stranger who didn’t hesitate at all.

And oh.

Remus knows he’s in trouble, because he can feel electricity in his veins, that burns all of his nerves and hijacks his brain. Because this is what its like for someone to trust his power, for someone to have complete and utter faith in him.

This is what someone believing him when he said he could see the future is like.

“You’re bleeding,” The man says tentatively.

“Happens,” Remus says cupping his hand under his nose to catch the red splatters before they hit the ground. In the shadows he can’t see just how scarlet they are and he thinks that’s a relief. “You really….you really didn’t hesitate.”

“Should I have?” The man cocks his head to the side, half a grin on his face, as if he doesn’t quite get the joke Remus is telling. (There’s no joke, and that fact alone makes Remus’s stomach flip.)

The question is a loaded gun anyway and Remus doesn’t feel like pulling the trigger on himself today at least.

Remus is twenty one and he helps rob his first casino.

Which seems insane, because Remus is a lot of things, but he wasn’t really a lawbreaker until that moment he talked the man who could shapeshift into anyone straight through the four levels of security and the cameras and figured out the codes that he needed to get in to the vault and the path he needed to take out, which led him all the way up the stairs to Remus’s hotel room.

There’s enough money on the floor to fix the world hunger. The man, his partner in crime, the shapeshifter sits in the middle of it like a dragon watching his hoard, scribbling mathematics on the hotel provided pad of paper so that he can count it all. His shapeshift is off, allowing Remus a look at his green scales and yellow eye without all the blood.

He’s grinning like the cat that caught that little canary. Remus thinks its a good look on him.

Remus holds one of his poker chips in his hand, a Barney that wandered off from the casino floor and found its way to Remus’s hotel room.

“So,” He says, because silence has never been his type of thing, “What now? We split ways?”

The man makes another mark on his pad of paper shuffling through the green papers. “I’m afraid not. You still owe me.”

“What?” Remus turns to face him, and if there’s a spark in his chest, a nudge of excitement, well who can blame him? Its not like hes spent his whole life waiting for people to leave him.

Another dash on the paper. “We made a deal, unless you’ve forgotten. You said that if I could figure out how you were cheating, you’d do one thing that I want you to do.”

Remus snorted and waved to the money around them, “What do you call this?”

“This?” The man gave him a shark-like smile, “You did this of your own violation!” He held up a wad of cash, a smug superior smile on his face, that makes his fangs glisten.

“I seem to recall you asking,” Remus challenges.

“Not in this timeline, Love Muffin,” The man throws the cash at him. “You still have blood on your face by the way.”

Remus lets the cash fall to the floor because money is nice, but there’s something much nicer about the way that this man is looking at him, the way he’s still looking at him, like Remus is something more than a nuisance, more than a distraction, more than an unwanted, frustrating intrusion.

“What do you want?” Remus says, because he hasn’t looked ahead this far yet and the uncharacteristic fear in his chest is slowly turning all his organs to butterflies.

He knows what he wants this man to say, knows what he wants to hear come out of this man's mouth and he thinks that if he looks in the future and its not what happens, Remus will surely explode right there in his (their) room.

“Hm?” The man says tapping his hotel offered pencil to his chin. “Well, you did say anything I wanted right? Anything at all?”

Remus nods, rolling his finger over the snake design on his stolen poker chip.

“Well then, the one thing I want…” He hesitates, “...is for us to stick together. I think we make quite the team, don’t you? My name is Dee.”

“Remus,” He chokes, because suddenly there doesn’t seem to be enough air in the world, and he’s afraid if he inhales too deeply trying to get more, the whole reality will shatter.

Dee makes another mark on the paper. “Well Remus,” He says, “Any other places you’d like to rob with me?”

Remus is twenty one and he thinks that this is the best birthday he’s ever had.

(Part Three)

#sanders sides #Remus Sanders #deceit sanders #roman sanders #deja vu au #remus has precognition #casinos #Blood #violence #robbery #Sometimes you just gotta Oceans Eleven this Shit #the author probably should have slept instead of written but #oh well #Demus? Demus #The power of friendship compels you to rob a casino

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clintbartonswife · 4 years

Text

burying her head into his chest and clinging to the moment

Pairings: Geralt of Rivia x Jaskier, Yennefer x Triss Summary: Finally safe, Jaskier struggles at the thought of being reunited with Geralt and Yennefer, all the while recovering from the mental and physical trauma inflicted during his stay with Nilfgaard. Meanwhile, Geralt and Ciri deal with their guilt. Notes: mentions of injury, recovery, self-doubt, round-about mentions of rape (no vivid descriptions but it’s hinted that it happened) masterlist || part one || part two || part four

The first thing he noticed was the softness surrounding him, the comforting warmth so different to anything he had experienced the past couple of weeks. It felt like he was sinking into a marshmallow, his fragile body being supported by a cocoon of blankets.

‘I must be dead’ he figured, cracking one eye open, only to be greeted by a blurry image of a small girl sat in a chair by his bedside, hair silver as the moon.

“Melitele?”

His voice came out cracked and sore, and the bard winced at the harsh sound cutting through the once peaceful silence.

“You’re awake!” she said, rising up from her seat, "I’ll go and get Triss”

As the girl fleed from the room, her face finally registered with the bard.

“Oh fuck”

If the princess of Cintra was here, Geralt couldn’t be far behind.

“Nice to see you’re awake”

Jaskier turned to face the newcomer, a pretty woman with an even prettier smile. A few months ago he would’ve probably tried to flirt, but for now he just gave the woman a smile, nodding in greeting.

“You were in bad shape when you arrived here” the woman Triss said, dragging the sheet down and revealing his chest, “I managed to stop the internal bleeding but I used too much of my energy to get rid of the surface wounds. I could try and heal them today if you’d like?”

“Surface-” Jaskier cut himself off, scrambling to look at his hands, the image of his broken fingers still clear in his mind.

Sensing his panic, Triss moved slightly closer, “that was one of the first things we fixed. I was told it was important”

The bard sighed in relief, “Thank you”

Triss startled at the sound of his voice, narrowing her eyes in concern, “Did they harm your throat? I could try and fix that? I know your singing is important to you”

‘watch how he sings for me’

Jaskier winced, shakily raising a hand to touch his throat, nodding gently.

“Okay”

The sorceress smiled reassuringly, approaching the side of the bed, “may I?”

“Yes”

He closed his eyes as she reached towards him, her fingers skimming lightly along his adam’s apple, the tingling sensation of magic working around the ache until it had all-but disappeared.

“There” her voice seemed tight, though Jaskier chalked it up to magic-exhaustion.

“Thank you” he said, the words coming much easier now.

Triss just nodded, smile looking slightly more forced, “I’ll leave you be. I’m sure you’re hungry - Ciri will bring up lunch in a few minutes”

Jaskier just nodded once more, eyes trained on his fingers, watching as he flexed and moved the joints without pain, the relief still palpable in the air.

“How is he?”

"As I’ve told you every time, he’s fine. He will live”

Geralt sighed, relaxing back into his chair.

“I don't understand why you don't go and talk to him” Ciri frowned, “You saved him after all”

The Witcher just shook his head, glaring at the floor, “He wont want to see me. We didn't end things well”

Ciri huffed, making her distaste of the answer clear, before picking up the bowl of soup and heading for Jaskier’s room.

As soon as she left, Geralt redirecting his gaze back to Triss, “How is he really?”

“Physically, he’s fine, truly, but the rest is going to take time Geralt. He’s traumatised... I think they - his throat was bruised. Not from the outside but the inside. We’re dealing with more than just surface wounds here”

Geralt couldn't contain the growl that ripped from his chest, fists clenching.

“No need to growl at Triss” Yennefer said, breezing into the room and standing vigil behind the other woman, “We know the people that took Jaskier were piece of shits and they’re dead now. They cant hurt him anymore”

“But they did. Because of me”

“Don’t get big-headed Geralt, not everything in the world is about you. Nilfgaard are pieces of shit. This is what they do. Those people would’ve hurt someone, and Jaskier is good at getting himself in trouble”

“He sings about Witchers because of me -”

“And if he met Eskel first he would sing of Witchers because of Eskel, this is not your fault Geralt. So please stop your whining”

“I pushed him away”

Yennefer sighed, crossing her arms, “Yes you did do that. That is on you, but you would’ve split up eventually for winter and this would’ve happened anyway”

Lost for words, Geralt just nodded, averting his eyes back to the floor.

“He’s going to be alright” Triss added, voice soft, “He will, but at some point you’re going to have to let him know that he’s not alone”

With that, the two women left the room, leaving Geralt to his brooding thoughts, the guilt crashing over him in waves.

“Jaskier”

The bard jolted from his daze, sitting up straight, “Please not again!”

A shocked silence descended over the room as he regained his bearings, the past day returning to him, “Oh - oh your highness I apologise”

“No, it’s my fault” the girl said, moving closer, a tray held in her hand, “I shouldn’t have woken you like that.”

Jaskier shook his head, slowly pushing himself in to an upright position.

“I’ve brought you soup” Ciri smiled, placing the tray over his lap once he settled, “I helped make it this morning”

“Well then I’m sure it will be wonderful” Jaskier replied, his courtly charm re-emerging.

Ciri bounced happily on the balls of her feet, placing the water on the beside table, “Would you like to eat alone? I can stay if you want”

The bard smiled and gestured for her to sit down on the chair beside the be, glad for the company.

The two sat in companionable silence for roughly a minute before Ciri burst, the question spilling out of her mouth in a rush, “I think you may have played at my court a few years ago - I recognised your face in my dreams - did you play at my name day a few years ago?”

Setting down his spoon, Jaskier turned to the princess, “Yes I did, every year up until you turned 8. Calanthe decided she didn't want me returning so after that I wasn't invited back to court”

“Why? Did something happen?”

Jaskier sighed, accepting that his coup was going to have to wait for a bit, and placed the tray down on the bed beside him.

“You should know by now of your destiny”

“Being tied to Geralt? Yes. I found him a few weeks ago in the forest near Sodden”

‘So he's definitely here’ Jaskier thought anxiously, swallowing down the thoughts for now to continue with the line of questioning.

“Well I was there when he called for the Law of Surprise. Your mother, Pavetta, invited me back to your first name day celebration as a way of saying thank you. Though I think the invite was really meant for Geralt. So... I took it upon myself to check on you, only once a year, for as long as I could. By the time you were 8 I think that Calanthe was scared that I’d try and take you to Geralt behind her back - sneak you out of the castle somehow - and so she asked that I didn't come back”

Ciri nodded slowly, and Jaskier could practically see the wheels turning in her head. She eventually spoke, “So you knew my parents?”

“Oh, yes. They were lovely people, kind and fair.” Jaskier huffed a laugh as a reminiscent smile crossed his face, “I remember on your first name day they couldn't stop watching you, their love for you shining even brighter than that for each other. It was clear to everyone in that rom that you were a gift, Calanthe even let me play you some lullabies - and that woman never liked me playing anything but a jig.”

The bard was pulled out of his memories by a small sob to his left.

“Aw - no - Ciri come here” Jaskier cooed, opening his arms for the girl. She accepted the offer gladly, curling up in his embrace and placing her cheek against his chest.

“Do you think they’d be proud of me?”

Her voice was meek, mostly muffled against the now-damp fabric of his chemise. An ache radiated through his chest, the position reminding him of his younger sister back in Lettenhove.

“Oh, Cirilla, of course they would be. You’ve been so strong” he replied, stroking her hair gently, “You’ve done everything you were supposed to do, okay? You fought to keep yourself safe and you found Geralt”

“But all the people that have died -”

“That’s not your fault, you couldn’t have stopped Nilfgaard. A whole army against one person? In no world is that a fair fight��

“But you -”

“My kidnapping is not on you either” He said sternly, “I’m a bard, we know a lot of things. I likely would’ve been captured for information anyway, that’s the unfortunate way of the world. I can promise you that none of that is your fault”

Ciri hummed an affirmative noise, lifting her head from his chest, wiping her eyes, “I didn't mean to cry on you like that, I’m sorry”

Jaskier just smiled, “You cant be strong all the time, Ciri. Everyone cries, bottling it up can make things worse”

“I was always told to be strong. Grandmother - I need to be strong. I haven't seen Geralt cry”

Jaskier shifted slightly so that he was eye-level with the princess, “Crying doesn't make you weak, far from it in fact. But if you need to vent and don't want anyone else to see you can always come to me. Okay?”

Ciri nodded, though this time more self-assuredly, “Thank you Jaskier”

Smiling, Jaskier patted her shoulder amicably, “Right I should probably finish my soup. Why don't you fill me in on what I’ve missed in the world whilst I eat - has Valdo Marx died yet?”

“Who’s that?”

Jaskier chuckled, “We’re going to be very good friends, I can already tell”

Ciri flashed a grin, head tilting towards the door as her name was called from downstairs. Jaskier saw her hesitate, looking back a him.

“Go ahead. I’ll be fine”

“Okay, I’ll come back as soon as I can”

As the door closed behind her, Jaskier slumped, the façade of energy draining away almost instantly. He stared down at his hands, the fingers throbbing with a dull ache, barely holding back tears.

‘What worth is a bard if he cant play anymore?‘

______________________________________________________________

@kittynannygaming @fillingless-piee @nanazlovese @anotherunoriginal @baron-von-wilderpantz

#geraskier #Geralt of rivia x jaskier #Geralt x jaskier #Geralt of rivia #jaskier #Jaskier whump #Geralt whump #the witcher #fanfiction #whump #fanfic #yennefer x triss #Yennefer of Vengerberg #Triss Merigold #the witcher whump #jaskier fanfiction #cirilla fiona elen riannon

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alicedopey · 4 years

Text

The Northern Princess

Fandom: Vikings

Genre: Fluff, a little bit of angst, AU

Pairing: Aethelred x Reader

Warnings: None

Words: 2066

Summary: This is your birthday and Aethelred has a little surprise in store for you.

A/N: This is written for @maggiescarborough birthday. Sorry I’m late and I hope you like it because this is the first time that write for him. This is an AU fic. Sigurd and little Siggy are not dead...and obviously Aethelred was not married to any saxon woman.

Almost a year. It’s been almost a year since you’ve been living in Wessex as Princess Y/N of Mercia, wife of Prince Aethelred. A bitter smile curved your lips. A Viking, daughter of Aslaug and Ragnar, married to a Saxon. If only your parents had been alive…

Maybe they would have done the same thing after all. Marriages were seen as a good peace offering. There had been no other option anyways. Your brothers did not agree right away but you managed to convince them it would not be that bad. Nothing was waiting for you in Kattegat or elsewhere, and you were tired of playing the Shieldmaiden.

You sat up on your bed and leaned against the fluffy pillows as your personal servant entered your bedroom with a tray full of food.

Every day was the same: first me alone, getting ready, going into town to meet your people with your husband next to Alfred and his wife; then, a long second meal with your new family where the two brothers exchanged mostly about politics…and where you would try to have some talk with your sister-in-law. Afterwards, you would spend your afternoon alone reading or walking in the gardens. The last meal was always more joyful and usually finished with Alfred and you playing or talking.

Alfred was nice, always smiling and he has taught you so many things. Your husband was not that bad but he was…different.

“You are not hungry, Princess? Or maybe something is wrong with the food?”

You glanced at the tray that you had barely touched. “Everything is perfect as always, I’m just not hungry today. I think I will get dressed and go to the gardens.”

“Very well, Princess. Shall I braid your hair?”

You smiled at that. Braids were the only things you had kept with you. This annoyed Queen Judith a lot and it was so much prettier that what the Saxons did with their hair. Eda had offered to learn how to do it properly in order to please you and you were more than happy to teach her. She was meek, really nice, and more importantly, she was the only person you really talked to apart from Alfred. Judith had always been cold towards you – even if this union had been her idea in the first place. Nobody was never enough for her sons. Poor Elsewith had suffered much more than you…

Now Judith was gone and everything was less tense, especially between the two brothers. They reminded you of Sigurd and Ivar somehow. Looks like a mother’s love could do some damage anywhere…

“Here, Princess. You look absolutely magnificent.” She whispered in awe.

“Thank you, Eda. That will be all.” The servant bowed and left.

Sighing, you looked around the room. This was your life now. A beautiful Princess, beautiful and pampered…just like your mother. You had done so much not to end up like her, fighting alongside your brothers and vowing never to get married. But here you were, stuck in a loveless marriage. The situation was even worse since you were not even considered useful enough to make babies.

Every night, you would wait for your husband to visit your chamber and every night, you would fall asleep, crying. Your husband had not laid a hand on you since your wedding night. At first, it was not a bother, quite the contrary but now… Of course, he took care of you and made sure you had everything you needed, he even defended you when his mother used to make any bad comments about you – although you had proved you were capable enough to defend yourself. You had grown quite fond of him but he did not seem to share your feelings. Your pride prevented you from mentioning anything though. You would not beg or make a scene. Never.

Tears leaked from your eyes and you whipped them away with rage. No, you would not cry today. You inhaled deeply and left your chamber. Some chamber would help you feel better and you might spend a nice birthday, even without your brothers around you.

Aethelred walked up and down the corridors of the castle, looking for his Viking wife. The ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. His wife was a fierce little thing, sharp and witty. He had to admit he was surprised the first time you had talked back to his mother – and he had smiled every time it had happened. His mother deserved it for planning the whole thing. He still remembered when his mother calmly offered that his son should marry the Ragnarssons’ sister, insisting on the fact that her eldest son would be the perfect match for her. Of course, she would not have given a Viking wife to her precious wife. Aethelred really loved his brother but their mother had made things unbearable between them – at least, on his part.

Now that Queen Judith was no more, their relationship had improved. You were also free to do what you wanted without being judged. He had even suggested the idea that you could train again but she had politely declined. You did not like it that much, or so you said. You did like spending time in the library or talking with Alfred though. Aethelred was perfectly aware that the relationship with your brother was platonic but he could not help feeling a little bit jealous. You always acted shy and tense when you were around him. Nothing had changed since their wedding night. Aethelred remembered you were both so tense and disdainful towards one another. Nonetheless, he thought it had been pleasurable for you. He could still vividly hear your breathy moans and felt the way you clenched around him when you came. Thus, he had tried to visit you in your chamber but he had heard you crying one night and had gone straight back to his chamber – he had figured you were upset at the idea of him coming to have sex. Maybe you wished for him to woo you in some way before laying with him again so he did his best to please you. And he knew you would like what he had planned for today…

Feeling suddenly confident, he walked to the gardens in hope to find you. When he spotted you, he approached you quietly. “Wife.”

Hearing his voice, you turned your head and smiled. “Husband.” You replied shyly. “Is there something you wanted to tell me?”

“As a matter of fact, there is.” He came closer and gently pecked your cheek. “Happy birthday.”

Your cheeks turned pink as you were not used to his touch. “Thank you. I’m flattered you remembered.”

“Of course, I remembered. You’re my wife, aren’t you?”

He gently took your hand in his and softly stroked the skin with his thumb. Then he raised it to his mouth and kissed the back of your hand. The gesture was nice and innocent but your stomach flipped with pleasure.

“My Prince!” The moment was broken as a servant addressed your husband. He let go of your hand and took back a serious stance. “Yes?”

“They’re here.” Ah. Aethelred smiled and held out his hand for you to take – which you did. Together, you took the direction of the castle.

“Who is this ‘they’ he was talking about?” You asked him curiously.

He did not answer but gave you an enigmatic smile. Your brows furrowed but you kept following him. It could not be that bad.

Aethelred led you to the main room of the castle. When he opened the doors, your heart stopped as they came into view.

“Brothers!” You ran into their arms, tears of joy rolling down your face. You had missed them so much: their laughs, their silliness, their arguments… They were all here – even Bjorn had come with little Siggy, who was not so little anymore.

“Look at you, niece.” You exclaimed like a proud mother. “Such a strong, beautiful girl..you are magnificent.”

“So are you, Aunt. A real princess…”

“She’s right”. Ivar intervened. “You are beautiful, you just look like mother.”

Your heart clenched. Coming from your youngest brother, it was a real compliment. “Thank you, Ivar.”

He smiled at you but Sigurd rolled his eyes. “She is more than beautiful.”

Knowing the situation could turn bad in a few second between your two brothers, you changed the subject. “I can’t believe you decided to surprise me this way. Thank you!”

Hvitserk chuckled. “Oh, it was all your husband’s doing. He sent us a messenger and asked us to be there on time.”

You turned around, eyes wide with surprise. Aethelred was standing with Alfred and his wife, patiently waiting while you greeted your brothers. You smiled at him and he smiled back. He really had done that for you!

The banquet your husband had ordered to be prepared was enormous and the food tasted delicious. The feast was a complete delight, you could enjoy the presence of your brothers and niece who would stay for a few days. Everything was going smoothly, Aethelred even agreed to go to Kattegat in the future so you could see your home again.

“And maybe when you set shore in Kattegat, our future nephew or niece will be with you.” Ubbe added, smirking.

Aetheldred and you looked at each other, embarrassed. Your husband still gave Ubbe a smile and reacted with a small “Maybe.”

The answer pleased your brothers but Ubbe frowned and you knew he got something was off.

He mentioned it to you a few hours later when he took the opportunity to talk with you privately.

“Is there something wrong between the two of you? He seems to take care of you but if it’s not the case….”

You shook your head. “Nothing of the sort, Ubbe. He is just not attracted to me, that’s all.” Your cheeks reddened at your words. Saying those words aloud to your brother was humiliating to say the least – even more so when he started laughing.

“Nonsense!”

“Ubbe, he…” You lowered your voice. “He hasn’t touched me since our wedding night. I am probably not his type, or he still can’t accept he is married to a Viking woman.” You shrugged your shoulders and acted as if you were not affected, but Ubbe knew better.

“Talk to him. I’m certain it’s not what you think.” He pointed his chin towards your husband. “I’ve watched him all night and every time, he had his eyes on you. He cares about you. I’m sure of it. The way he looks at you says a lot about his feelings for you.”

Feelings for you. Aethelred had feelings for you. Ubbe’s words were ringing in your head. What is he was right? Maybe there was just some misunderstanding between the two of you.

And what if he was wrong, though? Yeah, what if?

This was ridiculous. You were a strong Viking woman deep down and you should not be afraid to talk with your husband.

You thanked your brother and walked to the place where your husband was, sitting down next to him. The moment he looked up at you, you cupped his cheeks and leaned over to kiss him strongly. At first, you felt him tense a bit. Then, he quickly melted and embraced you. You explored each other’s mouths feverishly. There was some energy and despair in the kissed you shared. You had waited so long for that.

When your lips parted, Aethelred put his forehead against yours. His hot breath mingled with yours. “What was that for, wife?”

“Thank you for today. No one had ever done such a nice thing for me. Plus, I really wanted to kiss you.”

“No complaints here.” He laughed. The sound made your heart flutter. You had never heard it before.

“Would you like to come to my room tonight?” There, you said it.

He stopped laughing, his fair eyes took a darker shade. “I would love that.” He stood up and took your hand. “Let’s go. I think we waited long enough.”

You could not agree more so you stood up as well and followed him. On your way out, you saw Ubbe wink at you. His words came back into your head. A niece or a nephew could be here when you set shore on Kattegat. Maybe even two.

Tagging (tell me if you want to be added or removed): @naaladareia @therealcalicali @gearhead66 @hecohansen31 @tephi101 @peaceisadirtyword @mblaqgi @captstefanbrandt @ivarswickedqueen @maggiescarborough

#vikings #fanfic #aethelred #aethelred x reader #birthday fic #fluff #angst

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caroline18mars · 4 years

Text

A Man On Fire - Chapter 81

“Everything’s ready outside” walking back inside the kitchen, he was met by a spoon full of homemade guacamole “taste! Needs a lot more garlic, doesn’t it?” she puffed a strand of hair out of her eyes looking a little bewildered. “It’s absolutely perfect..” he licked his lips and then looked at the kitchen counter with a million pots, pans, bowls with the most delish food “wooow, wait a minute, you’re cooking up a feast and it’s just a little evening with friends” grinning he took another scoop of the guacamole. “I know but..no, I don’t know, I just thought it’s easier to talk with some good food..oh I still need to make the mozza bowls, arrghh” she spun on her heels but he grabbed her arm “will you just chill? You’ve done more than enough so you go take a nice shower, make yourself even prettier than you already are, I’ll take all this outside in the meantime..oh and stop being nervous, they’ll adore you, trust me”. He pulled her in his arms to plant a soft kiss on her lips that got too deep too quickly “stop it, I’m sticky” she pulled back, waving her fingers covered in guacamole and tomato sauce in front of his face, which was his queue to slowly put two of her fingers in his mouth, ohhh god, erotic much? She already felt her stomach tingle “Oh no you don’t, I know what you’re up to mister, no way, you’ll just have to wait until your bedtime”. That sexy, silly pout of his, walk away now or find yourself shoved against a kitchen counter while he takes you from behind, just the thought of her body being completely owned and possessed by him had her all moist, “Ok ok ok, I don’t like it, but ok” he let her fingers slip out of his mouth and reluctantly let go of her. “Good boy!” she quickly wiped her hands on a towel and hopped on out the kitchen, Jared had a grin from ear to ear until she was out of sight and was met again by a kitchen that looked like a bomb had exploded, sighing he opened the dishwasher door, it’s only fair, she cooked, you clean.

Hair, outfit..hmm, I don’t know, should I wear th.. her thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell, ok leave it, it is what it is, you did your best, nervously she walked down the stairs, Jared was on his way to open the door when she walked down, wowww, she looked absolutely breathtaking. “You look..gorgeous” he smiled up at her, the fact that his friend were on the other side of the door completely forgotten about, “thank you! Uhm floppy hair, your friends are waiting” she giggled. “Heellooo sexy” a skinny, dark haired girl jumped in his arms, purring in his ear, a few friends he said..god, I hope there’s enough food for everyone, she took the last steps and slowly walked up to the bunch of people trickling inside. Should I introduce myself? Stop being so awkward De Robiano, just smile and act confident with the emphasis on ‘act’, “you must be Jared’s new flame” one of the girls noticed her standing behind Jared, “I’m Harper Coco, nice to meet you” she extended her hand, too formal maybe? I’m just not a hugger. The girl lifted her eyebrow at Jared like this was probably the most awkward way that she had been greeted in her entire life, yep Harper, you fucked up, what was it your mother said ‘you can never make a first impression twice’?. But after a few seconds she took Harper’s hand and lightly shook it, ugghh fishhands, Harper uncomfortably pulled back her hand, luckily Jared saved the day “alright alright, you know the way, we’re in the garden” he pointed at the back of the house. “You ok?” he whispered as the gang headed towards the back of the house, “yep, I’ll just go get the bottles” she smiled but he could see the nervous clench in her jaw, “it’s gonna be fine, trust me” he kissed the tip of her nose.

By the time every guest had a drink and something to eat, it was an hour later and the excited conversations were flowing around the table, with all her walking in and out there was only one spot free tucked away at the end of the table. Plopping down on her chair, she took a sip of her wine and tried to follow the conversation, but they were all so wrapped up in each other that she couldn’t get two words in, Jay looked completely in his element though, talking and laughing. Stop stressing, just enjoy the moment, enjoy your man who is in his element like you’ve never seen him before, she leaned back, lit up her cigarette and took a sip of her wine, the weather here reminded her of those Italian summer evenings in a way but did she warm up to LA yet? Nope! Not really, this just wasn’t her home..yet..would it ever be? Come on, make an effort, your man calls it home, then surely you can too. While the rest of the table was reminiscing about previous tours and things only they could know, the guy on her right gave her a friendly smile “so, how’s LA treating ya?”. She gave him an equally friendly smile back “I’m still trying to find my way round I guess..it’s not New York, that’s for sure!” he had really friendly eyes and seemed pretty genuine which was so refreshing in LA-la land. “I’m sorry, where are my manners? I don’t think we’ve been introduced, I’m Harper Coco” she extended her hand which he grabbed and gently shook “Oh you’re right, sorry, I’m Cooper..I’m with Marie-Lou” he pointed at one half of the twin sisters who are curling around Jared. “Aha..” she looked to get a better look of the girl but nah..still ordinary, oh for crying out loud Coco, stop it, for all you know she might be the sweetest woman alive “..and what does Cooper do, besides being Marie-Lou's boyfriend?” she turned her attention at the man again, “I work for a local art dealer”. Her head shot up, he really had her attention now “oh! You buying or selling? Contemporary or classic?” she took another drag of her cigarette, “I’m a buyer and I also scout new talent, shame that you signed with Charles already” he gave her a coy smile “your work is so, so..amazing!”. What?? A fan? “you know my work?” she said genuinely surprised, “know your work? Oh Harper, you really are too precious, how can anyone not be a fan of your work? everyone in the business is asking where Charles has kept you hidden for so long? Your work is such a breath of fresh air..it’s shocking and relevant and completely..” he rambled but paused to find the right words “new..it’s unlike anything anyone has ever seen before”. A warm blush crept around her cheeks, she never knew what to do with compliments of this magnitude “Uhm..thank you”, she wanted to shout at him that she was in a complete panic now that all her inspiration seemed to have dried up but she kept her cool and gave him a grateful nod instead.

”Excuse me a second, I think everyone is ready for a second round of drinks and nibbly things” she got up from her chair, oh come on Jay, get up for a second and help me, talk to me, I just want a few minutes with you, but he didn’t even notice, too wrapped up in his conversations. “Need some help?” Cooper spontaneously got up as well and followed her back to the house, in the kitchen she started rummaging through the fridge, taking out a huge pitcher of L’americano cocktail and then started taking out what seemed like a hundred different bowls of delish food “oh my, a crazy talented painter and a cook as well, Jared is a lucky man”. She never was good with compliments and this man was full of them “thank you, you’re too kind, but why don’t we take all this outside and then you have to tell me all about your job” she blushed and stammered as she handed him the pitcher. Walking back to the table with her hands full, she stopped behind Jared’s chair “Jay, can you make a bit of room and take these?” but he didn’t seem to hear her and the tray was getting really heavy. “Jay?” she kicked his chair a little to make him notice her but like this afternoon he was too wrapped in his bubble of friends, and it was exactly the same girl, Chloe?? Who had to make him aware that she was standing right behind him. “Oh sorry, didn’t see you there” he turned in his chair to take the tray from her, maybe she’d expected him to say something sweet or pull her against him for a second but there was none of that, trying not to look too frustrated she hurried back to her seat. “Try not to stress, I get the same thing with Marie-Lou, she forgets who I am when this bunch gets together, I only decided to come along when I heard who Jared’s new girlfriend was” Cooper shrugged when she sat down again. “I’m not stressing, anyway, let’s talk about you and your job” she quickly pushed a piece of bruschetta in her mouth.

”She’s awfully quiet, isn’t she? She didn’t even try and engage in the conversation” Chloe put her arm on Jared’s back as she stared at Harper sitting by the pool while the party was just getting started. Jared felt so lightheaded, he had way too much to drink “Harper? Oh Chloe, you don’t know what you’re talking about, she’s just got a lot on her mind..she’s been through so much with her family..and she’s still getting used to LA”. Chloe shifted in her seat not too convinced “whatever, just sounds like she's a lot of work, to me..anyway, come on old man and dance with me” she shot up, grabbed his hand and started yanking it. “No, leave it Chloe, I’m gonna check on Coco” he got up but then he watched her get up too, putting her phone to her ear she hurried back to the house, “oh come on, let her take that call, in the meantime you and I are gonna hit your cute improvised dancefloor right now” she pushed him in the direction of the pool. “We haven't talked since..well you know since that horrible night, you didn't return any of my calls, and I can understand why but believe me I've been so worried about you, I just wanted to see how you're holding up?” her brother's voice wurmed itself into her ear, why did she have to pick up? Sighing she sat down at the bottom of the stairs “I moved to LA..to get away from..them” she nearly puked the word “she's..gone way too far, Arno..listen, I know that you're trying to keep me part of the family but you're wasting your time..you heard what she said, she doesn't consider me a part of the family anymore so there's no real point in calling me”. This was a night to forget as soon as possible, who am I kidding, these last couple of days..this whole idea of following her lover to LA was something to forget all about as soon as possible, “you're still my little sister, Coco, that will always make you part of my family..how's LA treating you? And Jared, how is he?” he was determined to keep their conversation going. “Jared has been nothing but kind to me..LA on the other hand..” she pinched the bridge of her nose, no don't dive into all these negative emotions, just try and keep a cool head about it, it's only been days..oh god, I miss New York, I miss getting inspired. “Jared is great, you deserve each other so much, and as far as LA is concerned, it's just a city, and it's only been what? A couple of days? Give it a chance, you've lived all over the world in the past, surely LA will grow on you just like the other countries and cities did” bless him, he was trying to lift her spirits, whether it was working was a whole different matter. “I know..” she sighed, “and how's the painting going?”oh no, straight to the sore spot, “fine..just fine..” she lied, but he was having none of it “ok, out with it, Coco, what's going on?”. Harper bit her lip, should she? “nothing, just a little painter's block, nothing major” oh all those little lies, that is so not you Coco “listen Arno, I've gotta go, there's a party going on here tonight and Jared's gonna start looking for me soon, so..I'll call you next week if that's ok for you?”. Arno was very understanding about it so after saying their goodbyes, she threw the phone next to her, so glad she could stop lying, sighing she put her head on her crossed arms, oh Jared it would be so nice if you would actually come looking for me right now..but you're not are you? Just goes to show how different we really are, you have a life and I don't and boy did the truth hurt right now.

#jared leto #jared leto fanfic #jared leto fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #fic #30secondstomars #30 Seconds To Mars #30 secondstomars fanfic #30stm fanfiction #a man on fire #chapter 81 #Harper Coco #Harper and Jared #caroline18mars

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gerrystamour · 4 years

Text

the bittersweet between my teeth, Chapter 5

Written by: GerryStAmour | Gift for: @northisnotup

PLEASE HEED THE FOLLOWING CONTENT WARNINGS:

Minor Character Death

Mortal Injury

Violence

Severe Blood Loss and Burns*

Torture (Explicit, but show accurate)

Sad Cliffhanger

*A quick not about the author’s knowledge re: blood loss, burns, etc: I really don’t know a lot, and ya girl got the squeams real bad trying to research that shit so I took extreme artistic license with it.

Chapter Five [Previous Chapter][First Chapter]

- - - - - Nureyev’s POV - - - - -

Nureyev crouched next to Juno in the sewers, just below the grate Rita had helped identify as having the least amount of security near it, while simultaneously being close enough to the vault they intended to hit.

They had met at Nureyev’s new,much less reputable, hotel that morning to go over the plan again; wait until the change in security rotations, loop the camera feeds for twenty minutes, hit the vault and get out. Even if an alarm got tripped, they would have a solid five minutes to get back out before anyone would be able to find them. It was straightforward and easy, the closest thing to a guarantee Nureyev had ever worked with.

Nureyev had arranged to have the room for two nights, just long enough to complete the job and meet with one of his contacts to have the weapons disposed of. He wouldn’t need the room any longer than that, and again, the job was in-and-out, like stealing candy from a baby.

Juno, however, was not impressed.

“We’re not stealing candy, Nureyev!” Juno had snapped back at the hotel, pushing Nureyev back with his hand on his chest. Nureyev had pouted a bit, the kiss he had been angling for rebuffed completely. “And our mark isn’t a baby. We’re stealing weapons from the mayor and a Piranha-faced goon!”

“Semantics, dear,” Nureyev had replied, smoothing his palms down the front of Juno’s turtleneck. “Believe me when I say we’ll be back here by dinner, time enough to celebrate a heist well-done, and then we’re off to the Cerberus Province to have the weapons destroyed.”

Nureyev had kissed him soundly at that, swallowing Juno’s indignant squawk and sighing when Juno opened for him and relaxed into the embrace. Then the beautiful detective made an annoyed sound and pulled away.

“Now you’re just asking for disaster to happen, Nureyev,” Juno grumbled, pushing away to grab his coat. “It’s arrogant. I don’t like it.”

“My goodness, my dear detective, I do love your commitment to complaining, but perhaps we could use some optimism?” Nureyev said with a fond smile and Juno sneered a bit.

“Sorry, Nureyev, I’ve got two settings and they’re both Insufferable Pessimist,” Juno deadpanned and Nureyev had laughed.

Now that they were there, however, Nureyev found himself hesitating.

The sewers were incredibly dry, all things considered, though Juno said it would likely not be the case when they left. There was some sort of timed system which would periodically fill and drain the sewers to keep the local rodents from settling in. It was something that annoyed Juno, but had very little to do with potentially having to wade out of the sewers chest deep in raw sewage.

“Rich idiots think they’re too good for rabbits,” Juno had grumbled after explaining, and if Nureyev thought there was no way to be even more in love with him, he had been wrong. Juno Steel took moral offense with the wealthy regardless of what they did, even if it was something as simple as keeping oversized, territorial rodents from dwelling in their waste.

“Glass,” Juno murmured, snapping Nureyev out of his thoughts. “What are we waiting for?”

“Apologies, dear,” Nureyev said with a shaky chuckle, checking his knives again and then quickly redoing the braid in his hair. Then he adjusted his glasses and looked at Juno. “Remember the plan?”

“Kinda,” Juno sighed, and Nureyev almost choked.

They had just gone over the plan as they walked, after going over the plan in the hotel room, and before that they had gone over it the day prior. They had come up with the plan together, and Juno only kinda knew it?

“Juno,” he scolded, calculating if he should risk this leg of the job alone, or back out entirely and return when Juno was better prepared.

“I’m joking, Glass,” Juno said with a laugh. “You always this tense before a job?”

“Only when I stand to lose more than I’m willing to,” Nureyev answered honestly, and Juno bit the inside of his cheek, clearly embarrassed by the sincerity. Hitting a button on his comms to loop the security feeds, Nureyev nodded. “Let’s go then.”

“I’ve got your back,” Juno agreed, waiting for Nureyev to climb up ahead of him.

Objectively, Nureyev knew that Juno was capable, and since half of the plan was comprised of Juno’s ideas, there was no reason to doubt that the detective was more than equipped to be there. But now that Nureyev was faced with the reality of Juno going into a situation that could end in his death, he found himself distracted with his anxiety.

Their way into the vault from there was simple as Nureyev checked each door on their way in, looking for any traps but there hadn’t been any. That was concerning to him, but he didn’t mention it to Juno. Doing so would only distract the detective, and he couldn’t have that. Nureyev glanced back at the private eye while he checked a doorway for traps, taking in the way he hung close to him, his eye scanning the hall while glancing at his own comms to double-check that the feeds were looping properly.

Nureyev couldn’t help the way his gaze lingered on the detective either, especially considering the fit of his black pants and black turtleneck. The thigh-holster for his blaster and black gloves were also something of a distraction if Nureyev let his gaze stray, so he kept his focus on moving forward.

“The vault should be just through here,” Nureyev whispered as he checked the next door for traps. Once he confirmed the door to be free of any sort of danger from that side, he carefully opened it and stepped inside.

The vault was a decently sized room with several shelves of various valuable items. Checking his watch, Nureyev hummed. “We’ve made excellent time, Juno!” he began as he turned to look at the detective. “So let’s grab the— Juno. Dear. Where, might I ask, is your glove?”

Juno jumped and looked sheepishly down at the bare hand holding his blaster. “The glove felt wrong on the trigger,” he explained briefly and Nureyev couldn’t help the eye-roll, or the sigh.

“You need to wear both of the gloves, Juno,” he scolded and Juno just shook his head.

“I’m not putting the glove back on,” he said resolutely. “I’ll only touch my blaster, okay?”

Nureyev huffed, annoyed by the sudden stubbornness over something silly. “We don’t have time to argue this. Let’s grab the weapons and go.”

Juno pointed out the cases and Nureyev was still surprised at how small they apparently were. Juno had told Nureyev just how compact the tyrannical leadership over Brahma had made their Guardian Angel System, but he hadn’t quite believed it until he saw it. They hardly needed two bags to carry them out, but they shared the load nonetheless.

Nureyev checked his watch again and decided that there was plenty of time for him to window shop. There were several shelves of blasters, knives, and jewellery to choose from, and Nureyev happily let his eyes— and sticky fingers— travel over the knives and one of the blasters.

Blasters were never Nureyev’s thing, but for the lady huffing impatiently behind him, however…

It was certainly prettier than the blaster sitting in Juno’s holster, he reasoned as he took it off the shelf and slipped it into his bag.

“Glass, c’mon. Let’s go,” Juno snapped, shifting uncomfortably as he waited.

Nureyev merely made a tutting noise as he continued to peruse the shelves of jewellery, pausing at a tray of bracelets. “Yes, yes, dear. In a moment,” he replied dismissively, absently waving at Juno over his shoulder.

“We don’t have time for this, Glass.

Nureyev smirked over his shoulder at the detective, allowing him to see him pocket a bracelet and it’s matching necklace. Juno let out an affronted noise and spluttered a bit.

“You do realize I could still arrest you, right?” Juno threatened. At that, Nureyev hummed thoughtfully before grinning toothily at the detective.

“Have I told you how much I love it when you get all morally outraged like that?” he asked with an eyebrow raised, his voice barely more than a purr. “It does a lot for me.”

Juno sucked in a shaky breath, nostrils flaring as he bit the inside of his cheek. Shaking his head sharply, he returned to glaring.

“Glass, this is not the time for that,” he said, though he sounded slightly breathless. When Nureyev’s watch chirped a five-minute warning, Juno turned to reach for the door, snapping, “Seriously, Glass, let’s go!”

Nureyev realized a moment too late that Juno’s hand was still bare, and no longer holding his blaster. Still, just as Juno grabbed the doorknob, Nureyev hissed, “Juno, wait—”

Juno gasped the moment his hand touched it, wrenching his hand back just as the lights turned red around them and alarms began to blare.

“Juno,” Nureyev scolded, but the detective was pointedly keeping his back to Nureyev as he inspected something on his palm.

“So…” Juno began slowly, obviously trying to keep his tone light. “I probably need a tetanus shot, and… we’re kinda… in trouble?”

Nureyev pinched the bridge of his nose just below his glasses, and let out a low sound. “Oh, are we?”

“Hey!” Juno said as he turned to glare. “Don’t act like this is only my fault.”

Nureyev scoffed at that and turned back to the trays of bracelets to grab something he had been eyeing before Juno’s blunder. “Who was it that went and opened the boobytrapped door with his bare hand, Juno dear?” he asked sourly, zipping up his bag and slinging it over his shoulders. “It certainly was not me.”

When he turned to face Juno, the detective was a glorious vision of indignance and bratty petulance. If Nureyev wasn’t so annoyed with him, he would have kissed the detective.

“It was supposed to be in-and-out, Glass!” Juno groaned. “None of this browsing! If you were planning to go shopping, you should’ve maybe told me?”

Nureyev only stared at him for a moment, making a sceptical noise in the back of his throat. “Juno,” he said flatly. “I am a thief.”

“Yeah, I know that Glass, but I figured—”

“And I told you to let me handle all the doors—”

“How was I supposed to know—”

“No, enough,” Nureyev said with a huff. “I’ll win this argument later—”

“What?! You’ll win— ?”

“ —and we need to get out of here, and fast,” he finished, checking the door one last time before opening it and hurrying into the hall, Juno following closely behind him.

As they hurried through the halls, they began to hear snatches of conversation from approaching thugs, shouting orders to find the intruders. The goons were getting closer, and Nureyev and Juno were running out of time.

“We’re not gonna make it, Glass,” Juno hissed, and Nureyev had nothing to say to that.

“Boss wants him taken straight to her!”

Juno cursed. “The goddamn Piranha!”

Nureyev glanced back at Juno and his heart stopped at the naked fear on his face. They couldn’t both make it out, and both of them getting caught was not an option. When it came down to choosing between the two of them, Nureyev knew what he should do.

When trouble arises, he disappears. That had been his way for as long as he could remember, and it had kept him alive.

He knew what he should do.

Nureyev grabbed Juno’s wrist and pulled him into a small alcove, swinging his bag off of his back and pushing it into Juno’s hands. “Take it,” he said firmly. “And give me your comms.”

Juno looked up at him, confused and absolutely beautiful, and Nureyev’s heart ached. “Nur— ?”

“Hush, love, give me your comms,” Nureyev insisted again, and Juno handed it over almost robotically. Nureyev smiled winningly at Juno as he punched in a set of coordinates. “This is my friend. He’ll help destroy the weapons—”

Juno made a sound, something that fell somewhere between a sceptical laugh and a sob. “N— Glass, don’t be stupid!” he hissed, and when Nureyev looked at him, he saw real anger in his expression. “She’ll kill you!”

“You don’t know that, love,” Nureyev replied with a shake of his head, pushing the comms back into his hands. Nureyev had very little confidence in his odds, but he wouldn’t tell Juno that. “I stand a better chance of talking my way out than you do.”

Juno shook his head and hissed, “I don’t like this, Glass. We can figure something else out, something that doesn’t involve playing right into that sociopath’s hands—”

“I’ll be fine, my love,” Nureyev said, pressing his fingers gently over Juno’s lips. “I’ll meet you at the hotel before you know it.”

Juno stared at him, his visible eye glassy with unshed tears, and when Nureyev moved to turn away, Juno grabbed the straps of the holster for his knives. There was a storm of emotions on the detective’s face, and Nureyev felt swept away by it; completely bowled over and left stranded out at sea.

Juno Steel was so handsome, and Peter Nureyev couldn’t remember how to breathe in the face of that.

“You better,” Juno finally said in a low voice before he pulled Nureyev down to capture his lips in something desperate and needy. Nureyev sighed and immediately deepened the kiss, opening for Juno’s tongue and cradling his face with one hand.

“Wait here for a few minutes, then get to the sewers,” Nureyev whispered quickly as he pulled away. “If I’m not back at the hotel by tomorrow morning, call my friend. Do not wait for me.”

Nureyev did not wait for Juno to respond before he left the alcove and darted back down the hall in the direction they had come.

There was a knife ready in his hand when he turned the next corner, and it found a home briefly in the side of a thug’s throat. Pulling it back out, he dodged the spray of blood and the meaty paw of another large thug, opening that one’s inner thigh with an efficient and deep slice of the knife in Nureyev’s other hand.

Thug number three was still barrelling forward and had not registered the veritable lake of blood that Nureyev had just formed in the hall and slipped, practically slitting his own throat as Nureyev slashed his blade through the air. There was a fourth goon coming at him, and Nureyev laughed at his approach, flipping the blade in his hand and throwing it.

The knife sunk home in the thug’s throat and he stumbled, choking wetly and stupidly reaching up to pull the blade out. Nureyev was hopeful for a moment that perhaps he could flee, catch up to Juno and they could run together.

Something hit the side of his head hard enough for his vision to white-out. He managed to stay standing, but he was thrown against the wall and dropped his other knife. When his vision returned, he saw that the hit had come from a baton in the hands of a thug who had arrived on the scene from behind him. There were two other men in the hall as well, and all three converged on him.

Nureyev was able to dodge the first few hits, but pinned as he was against the wall, one finally landed against his ribs and he lost his feet. Winded, he fell to his knees and through sheer luck, his hand found the blade he dropped. Nureyev slashed blindly, still gasping for breath, and he took a steel-toed boot to the stomach for his efforts.

He wheezed as he finished falling to the ground, and distantly he heard the sound of crackling electricity before every nerve in his body lit up in agony. Nureyev wasn’t even sure how long he’d been convulsing on the ground before he was able to register that there was some sort of pronged baton pressed into his side sending a vicious current through him.

Just as he was about to black out, the thug backed off and Nureyev immediately gagged, bringing up the meager breakfast he had eaten that morning. He felt like his entire body was on fire, every single cell vibrating and crackling, and his lungs burned as he sucked in air desperately. Nureyev could smell something burning, and after a few dazed moments he realized it was his own skin where the prongs had been held.

“Well, gentlemen,” Nureyev began, his voice hoarse as he tried to push himself up from the floor. “That was certainly exhilarating—”

The thug sneered cruelly and caught Nureyev with the baton again.

He blacked out that time, and when he came to, he was being dragged into a room somewhere in the vault and shackled to a chair.

Nureyev squinted around the room, realizing his glasses were missing, which didn’t surprise him too much. He didn’t miss when Piranha entered the room, however, and smiled blandly at her.

“Ah, the lady in charge!” he greeted, his tone sickeningly sweet. “Perhaps we can come to an understanding? Criminal to criminal?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d like that, huh?” she said as she dismissed the goons. Piranha pulled out her comms then, hitting several buttons. “But I’m under strict orders to deal with you how I see fit.”

Nureyev felt his stomach drop, but kept the placid smile on his face. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to anger your boss—”

“You don’t seem to get it, Pretty Boy, do you?” The Piranha said, give him a wide, cruel smile. Pulling another chair closer to Nureyev, she spun it and sat on it backwards. “I get paid whether you make it outta here alive or not, see. But I get paid double by both employers if you don’t.”

Nureyev dropped his smile. “Mr O’Flaherty—”

“ — Ain’t too impressed with betrayal, Glass,” she interrupted with a knowing sneer.

Nureyev kept his expression schooled to one of slight confusion. “I haven’t the faintest—”

“You’ve got guts, Pretty Boy, I’ll give you that,” she laughed. “O’Flaherty knows about your little fling with the P.I., see?”

Nureyev rolled his eyes, even as dread settled into his gut like ice. “What, getting my breakfast every morning from a licensed establishment is a fling, now?”

“You call this breakfast?” she asked, her voice absolutely delighted as she turned her comms toward Nureyev.

The ice in his gut turned sharp as he watched a slightly distorted video of him and Juno making out in the doorway of his hotel room. From the angle and the distortion, it was obvious that the camera had been set up in the peep-hole in the guestroom door across the hall.

“I’d say this looks more like a midnight snack! Oh, you should see my favourite part,” she said with a grin as she turned the comms back to herself to hit some more buttons. “About two and a half hours later…”

Nureyev knew what he would see before she even showed him, knew it would show Juno leaving his hotel room, dishevelled and very clearly illustrating what they had been doing in that room. What he didn’t expect was the way Juno smiled when he leaned back against the door, a smile that Nureyev had yet to be graced with by the lady himself. The Piranha paused the video on that frame and let out a mock-dreamy sigh.

“Look at that. How romantic. Just makes a girl wanna puke,” she cooed. “I’ll say, you must have very impressive stamina if all you did was play tonsil-hockey and bump pelvises, Pretty Boy.”

Nureyev schooled his features into something cockier, smirking wide and said, “I am quite an adept lover, I’ve been told.”

Piranha hummed, shutting off her comms and standing back up. “I’m sure. But we know your little toy is here, see? He tripped the alarms with his DNA.”

Nureyev barely resisted the urge to glare at her as she walked away, grinding his teeth.

She stopped at a table nearby, picking up the knives he had used earlier in the hallway and testing their balance. “O’Flaherty was shocked to see the lady P.I. with you, see?” she said with a laugh. “My people had seen you out with the pretty one.”

Nureyev twitched at her words, ready to snarl something in defense of his love, but beat back that urge. Showing her anything would give her an advantage, and he was lucky she hadn’t been looking at him when she said it at all.

“I can see it, though, goin’ for the matching set ‘n all— well, I mean…” she began, and looked over her shoulder with a knowing smile as she trailed off. “They were a matching set until I had my little playdate with the meddling P.I.”

Nureyev couldn’t keep his neutral expression, despite his years of training, and Piranha grinned. He couldn’t compartmentalize Juno Steel, and that was dangerous.

“But you didn’t actually score the set, did you? You aimed high and had to settle, huh?” she hummed, and Nureyev had to take a deep breath to keep from snapping. “The P.I. cleans up nice, though, even with the work I did—”

“Is there going to be a point to any of this?” Nureyev interrupted, internally cursing himself.

She moved so quickly, Nureyev almost didn’t see the knife in time and barely dodged it, earning himself a slash across his cheek that pulled a hiss from him but nothing more.

“Don’t interrupt me, Glass,” she growled, and Nureyev laughed. Piranha raised a lip in a sneer as she pulled out her blaster and pressed it directly between his eyes, which only made him laugh harder.

“I’m not seeing the joke, Pretty Boy,” she snarled and Nureyev just smirked.

“Oh, but I do,” he said, giving her a once-over and hissing when she pressed the blaster against his forehead so hard he had to tilt his head back.

“Should put a bolt through your empty skull right now,” she growled, and Nureyev rolled his eyes.

“Oh please, we’re both professionals here,” he said condescendingly. “Well, I am at least. Regardless, if you wanted me dead that quickly, I would have been killed out in the hall.”

“Shootin’ you like this would still accomplish my goals,” she said with a shrug.

“Those being?” he questioned.

The Piranha moved her blaster, pressing it beneath Nureyev’s chin and forcing him to look up at the ceiling. “The meddling P.I. didn’t stay outta things like he was told to, so he needs to be taught a lesson, see?” she explained. “O’Flaherty won’t let me kill him, or his brother, but I need to send a message somehow.”

“He’s not here anymore,” Nureyev said, desperately hoping for that to be true.

The Piranha cackled at that. “Then I’ll scatter your dismembered corpse all over his little cafe during the breakfast rush,” she said slowly, and Nureyev didn’t doubt for a moment that she was being completely serious with that threat. “But I’m thinkin’ he never left, and he’ll be coming through that door any moment, Glass. He’s predictably noble like that.”

“You would settle for killing me and letting him find my body?” Nureyev asked sceptically, because in the end that just didn’t seem like Piranha’s style.

“If I have to. But for now, I’m gonna have fun while I wait for our little lady, see?” she said, taking the tip of the blade and dragging it along the sharp line of his jaw and grinning at the blood the began to drip for the gash. Nureyev refused to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. “Then I’m gonna gut you while he watches.”

When Nureyev didn’t respond to the taunt, nor the wound she just opened on his face, she just grinned. “Let’s hope your P.I. doesn’t keep you waitin’ too long.”

Nureyev only hoped that Juno had listened and wouldn’t return for him.

- - - - - Juno’s POV - - - - -

Juno wasn’t sure how long he sat in that alcove, waiting for the sounds to subside. His thoughts were going a million miles a minute, trying to process what he had heard and line it up with what he was expected to do.

He knew the right thing to do was leave, go back to the hotel, and contact Nureyev’s “friend”. But every time Juno thought about leaving, he would just hear the crackle of electricity and the awful noise Nureyev made.

Shaking his head, Juno got ready to leave the alcove. He would trust Nureyev to figure out how to escape; if anyone could manage it, Nureyev could.

Juno almost made it back to the sewer grate, the trek slow-going as he had to assess the blindspots of the security cameras in real-time. Just before he reached the grate, he heard voices approaching in a hurry, and he had to quickly duck into another alcove. It was full of crates, which he used for cover to wait out the voices, holding his breath.

As the group passed, their radios crackled. “Keep an eye out for the detective.” It was the Piranha, and she knew Juno was there. Just below her voice, Juno could hear the quiet sounds of someone’s pained gasping and he knew it was Nureyev. “He’s still here somewhere.”

Just before the radio cut, he heard the beginnings of a stifled groan and felt his insides turn to lead as he realized several things all at once. One, the Piranha knew he and Nureyev were working together. Two, she was waiting for Juno. Three, she would torture Nureyev either until Juno showed up or she got bored and put a laser bolt through his head. Lastly, he knew that if he left, he would put Benten and Rita in immediate danger.

He knew the “right” thing to do.

They both knew the risks when they went into the job, and he knew if the roles were reversed, he would want Nureyev to get out and finish it. Juno could pick Benten and Rita up, maybe even Mick, and take them with him to dispose of the weapons. They could hide out in the Cerberus Province, or lay low in Olympus Mons for a while after, and come back when the heat had died down a bit.

Nureyev knew the risk. Nureyev told him to leave. Juno knew what he had to do.

Taking his blaster out of its holster at his thigh, Juno began sneaking back through the halls, away from the sewer grate.

Turning a corner, he found himself standing amongst four bodies and a lot of blood. Juno knew it was Nureyev’s handiwork and couldn’t help the little flutter of admiration at his skill, even if it was alarming. There was a substantial trail of bloody footprints and the mark of something large being dragged leading away from the scene. He carefully followed the tracks, staying out of the view of the cameras and keeping his ears peeled for any patrolling goons.

Juno finally arrived at an open doorway, and inside he could hear Nureyev talking. Relief flooded Juno as he carefully walked up, making sure not to make any sound to alert the Piranha to his presence.

As he stepped up to the open door, he peeked around the doorjamb in time to watch the Piranha pistol-whip Nureyev with her blaster. The hit seemed to catch him by surprise and he was thrown in his chair, leaning over the arm of it while the Piranha laughed. Juno’s gut clenched when Nureyev didn’t immediately sit back up, and it took everything in him to not jump in, blaster firing when she grabbed a fistful of Nureyev’s hair and hauled him back up.

There were several conflicting emotions roiling in Juno’s gut with the way Nureyev looked up at the Piranha. He was looking up at her, eyes sharp and bright, wearing the most dangerous smile Juno had ever seen on a person, his sharp fox’s teeth coated in blood.

Juno was mostly frustrated that Nureyev would taunt her with his grin like that so brazenly, but he couldn’t deny just how good Nureyev looked in his own element.

But Juno couldn’t ignore all of the open wounds on Nureyev’s cheeks, jaw, arms and chest. Not to mention the horrible burn on his stomach, likely from whatever was used to electrocute him.

The Piranha was losing her patience, that was obvious by the way she paced in front of Nureyev. “Lose the grin, Pretty Boy,” she snapped, and Nureyev snorted.

“People often smile at clowns,” Nureyev replied sweetly, and was rewarded with another hit, this one throwing Nureyev hard enough that his chair tipped over with a loud crash. Juno nearly rushed in, but when he looked down at the thief, he was looking right at him, shaking his head subtly.

Juno wasn’t sure what that meant, or what Nureyev was trying to say. Did he want Juno to wait? Or perhaps leave? Since Juno refused to do the latter, he buckled down to do the former.

The Piranha grabbed Nureyev by his hair again, as well as the arm of the chair, and dragged him back up with a loud screech of the chair’s legs against the tiles.

“You got quite the mouth on you, Glass,” she snarled, twisting the fist she had in his hair harder and shaking his head roughly.

When she released him, Nureyev made a humming noise while he obviously moved his tongue around in his mouth. He made a face after a bit and turned his head to the side to spit out a thick glob of blood and two teeth; a sharp incisor and an even sharper canine.

“Yes, I’ve been told it’s part of my charm,” Nureyev said eventually, somehow still managing to sound bored. Then he smirked. “I’m also quite talented in other respects as well.”

The Piranha sneered and lifted her blaster to Nureyev’s face.

It was set to a lethal charge, and her finger was poised on the trigger. “This is losing its appeal quickly,” she growled. “Maybe your little lady should find your corpse instead.”

Everything in Juno screamed, his heart stuttering to a halt with the muzzle of the Piranha’s blaster pressed viciously against Nureyev’s forehead. It forced him to crane his head back, leaving him with no way to even try to dodge it should she move to pull the trigger.

Juno couldn’t stay out of it.

Lifting his blaster, he shot a bolt to stun, the blast hitting her in the shoulder with enough force to knock her own blaster out of her hand. The Piranha didn’t go down, however, and without hesitation she ducked behind Nureyev and lifted one of Nureyev’s own knives to his throat.

Juno froze as she pressed the knife against Nureyev’s throat until a new trail of blood trickled down his neck. Nureyev hissed a bit and leaned back to ease some of the pressure.

“See, what’d I tell you, Glass?” she said with a loud laugh. “The former deadeye, here to save the thief. It’s like a fairytale.”

“I told you to leave,” Nureyev said sternly to Juno, ignoring the Piranha entirely.

“Yeah, well, you can thank me later,” Juno quipped, annoyed that Nureyev would scold him for saving his life. Then he turned his attention to the Piranha. “How the hell are you still standing, Piranha?

“Got me a nice vest here, see? Blaster-proof,” she replied and Juno could only see her eye around Nureyev’s head. “You’re gonna have to pack something a lot fatter than that bad boy for even a lethal charge to get through, P.I.”

Juno glared at that, the hand holding his blaster shaking a bit with his anger.

“Now, how ‘bout you lower that blaster and we talk like proper adults,” the Piranha said after a few moments.

When Juno didn’t immediately follow her request, she pulled up on the blade at Nureyev’s throat, forcing him to scramble up in his seat so he could tilt his head and throat to save himself from having his throat slit. Nureyev was standing as much as his shackled ankles and wrists would allow him, and the trail of blood down his throat ran a bit thicker.

“C’mon, P.I. He ain’t gonna be able to hold this position for too long,” the Piranha taunted, but Nureyev was shaking his head at him again, the movement subtle and only perceptible to Juno because he was watching the thief so closely.

Juno was torn. There was nothing to stop her from giving Nureyev a close shave if he dropped his blaster, but she was too protected where she currently crouched behind Nureyev. Juno may have attempted that shot when he had both eyes, but even with all his practice he didn’t quite trust his abilities. But she also had to have known that unless she had some form of back-up, she couldn’t kill Nureyev just yet or Juno would put her down.

Lowering his blaster, Juno barely restrained his sigh of relief when the Piranha allowed Nureyev to sit back down.

“I told you to leave, Juno,” Nureyev repeated, his voice strained with pain.

“Yeah, Glass, and you also said you could talk your way out of this,” Juno snapped.

“It doesn’t matter what—”

“Don’t, Glass. It does matter,” Juno interrupted. ‘You matter,’ was what he wanted to say, but he refused to give that sort of ammunition to the Piranha. “And what, I leave her and she tortures you until her goons pick me up and drag me back anyway? Or grab my brother? Rita?”

The Piranha laughed and leaned out around Nureyev to meet Juno’s eye. She was still too hidden behind Nureyev’s head, and Juno wouldn’t shoot until he was absolutely sure he wouldn’t hit Nureyev, too.

“The P.I. gets it, Pretty Boy. You ain’t got many friends, huh? That’s smart in our line of work,” she said. “We only have ourselves to look out for, so no one can have somethin’ sticky like leverage on us.”

Juno tried his best to ignore the Piranha, and just looked at Nureyev, meeting his gaze and searching for something. Instructions? Faith? A magic button they could press and return to that quiet moment in the hotel room two nights ago, just before Benten called and broke the spell between them?

Nureyev glanced down at the blaster hanging at Juno’s side lightning fast before glancing at the Piranha. Juno raised his eyebrow subtly and quietly switched his blaster to lethal charges.

“Are you payin’ attention, P.I.?” the Piranha barked at him, and Nureyev hissed in pain when she carved another jagged line across his chest.

“Cut it out, I’m paying attention!” Juno shouted, ready to yell again when she moved to carve yet another line into him.

She stopped, and he could tell by what he could see of her ugly face that she was grinning behind Nureyev’s head. Juno was shaking with rage and couldn’t do anything about it until she moved further into view. Her hand hung lazily over his shoulder now, the knife no longer cutting him, but still too close to his throat and chest for Juno’s comfort.

“Too bad stupid little private eyes don’t think like we do, huh Glass?” she said with mock concern. “They make all these messy little connections everywhere they go; keep family around, make friends. Did you know the little lady has a friend he’s known his whole life, Glass?”

Mention of Mick chilled Juno’s blood, but he didn’t let it distract him. He was watching for an opening and he would not miss it, his trigger finger ready.

The Piranha shifted around behind Nureyev, her face in full view as she made eye-contact with Juno, grinning broadly with her countless unsettlingly sharp teeth. His moment was coming, he just had to wait until she looked away so he could lift his blaster.

“And look at you, risking it all for a thief who wouldn’t even do the same for you,” she said, her voice full of mocking admiration.

“Juno, that’s not—” Nureyev began, but cried out when the Piranha carved another line on his chest, though this one crossed vertically through the other gashes.

“Shut it, Glass,” she snarled into his ear before smirking at Juno. “He’s using you, P.I. You can’t be stupid enough to think he actually cared about you, eh? Your own fiance dumped you, didn’t he?”

Juno felt like he was in free-fall, his stomach in his throat and his heart pounding in his ears. “What?” he hissed through his teeth and she laughed.

“I had you followed for months, P.I. A girl learns things, especially when her marks are so, so messy,” the Piranha bragged. “Remind me again how long he put up with you?”

He chanced a glance at Nureyev, and his gaze was waiting for him; steady, strong, supportive. Meeting the Piranha’s eyes again, Juno glared.

“Fuck you,” he bit out, and the Piranha laughed and pulled the knife up tight against Nureyev’s throat again. Nureyev scrambled to stand as much as he could to avoid having anything vital cut.

“Say it, Cyclops! So the whole class can hear,” she said around a maniacal laugh. “C’mon, P.I., I ditched most of my research on you when I got bored of you.”

“Fine! Fine,” Juno started, anger boiling in his gut as she didn’t take the knife away from Nureyev’s throat. “We were engaged for three years. Happy?”

The Piranha hummed and shook her head, dragging the blade slowly across Nureyev’s skin. “That didn’t answer the question, P.I.,” she replied, her tone almost sing-song.

“We knew each other from the police academy,” Juno finally said, feeling gutted by the forced confession. Saying it out loud in front of Nureyev felt like he was being dragged over hot coals. When she didn’t remove the knife, Juno shouted, “I gave you your answer, now knock it off!”

The Piranha eased off with the knife and Nureyev settled in the chair, panting a bit. Juno looked at his face again, and Nureyev was still meeting his gaze, steady and open, though there was a sadness there now. The pity smarted, but Juno figured they could hash that out later when they got out of there.

“So, give or take ten years?” she clarified with a low whistle. “See what I was saying about all those messy connections Glass? The little lady here has so many people just out there with all of his dirty little secrets!”

Juno looked back at the Piranha and fingered the trigger of his blaster, just waiting for her to look away from him. He just needed her to look away so he could lift his blaster before she could lift the knife.

“But you and I, Glass? We’re smarter than that. We don’t get close like that,” she said, looking at Nureyev from the corner of her eyes. “We’re smart enough to deal with people. Those messy connections. Ain’t we?”

The shift in her gaze was slight, but it would have to be enough. It was only a matter of time before she got bored of toying with them and finally finished her work. But Juno also knew it was a race to aim and shoot before she caught him and painted the walls with Nureyev’s blood.

It was risky— scratch that, it was stupid and dangerous. It was beyond reckless, and it wasn’t even a shot he would have been confident of when he had both of his eyes with her so close to Nureyev’s head.

When Juno looked at Nureyev again, however, Nureyev’s eyes were waiting for him. They were so open, so trusting and bright, and Juno felt a surge of confidence go through him. If they wanted to get out of there alive, he had to dispatch the Piranha, and Nureyev believed in him. Juno got him into that mess with his bonehead move in the vault, yet Nureyev still had faith in him.

The next handful of seconds played out in slow motion for Juno.

He lifted his arm as he looked back at the Piranha, aiming as her eyes flicked back to Juno. Nureyev let out a hiss, arching and straining away from the Piranha as Juno took aim, exposing more of her head and getting out of Juno’s way. She cackled as Juno pulled the trigger, not even moving her hand with the knife near Nureyev’s throat.

The charge hit her right between the eyes and Nureyev let out a small sound, flinching and slumping forward as the Piranha was knocked back, the knife in her hand clattering to the floor next to her where she fell.

Both of them were breathing hard in the sudden quiet, and Nureyev chuckled weakly, flinching with a small, pained sound.

“Fantastic shot, my love,” Nureyev said, and his smile was all wrong, shaky and missing two teeth as it was, but Juno would take it.

Juno hurried forward, making quick work of the shackles binding Nureyev to the chair. The thief hissed in pain as his wrists and ankles were released and blood rushed to his deadened fingertips and toes.

“Juno, you have to go without me—”

Juno doesn’t even think about it before he’s kissing Nureyev, silencing his protests with a desperate sound of his own. When he pulled back, Nureyev was smiling sadly, his mouth red and wet.

“Shut up, we’re getting you out of here,” Juno all but growled, stopping to pick Nureyev’s knife up off the ground where it lay by the Piranha’s hand. There was another knife on the ground under the chair, and Juno scooped it up as well.

“I’ll slow you down, Juno—” Nureyev began to argue, sounding breathless. When Juno looked at him as he came back around the chair, it was obvious he was in a great deal of pain.

Nureyev needed medical attention, and fast.

“I’m not leaving you behind, Glass, so drop it,” Juno snapped, grabbing Nureyev’s hands and hauling him out of the chair. Slinging Nureyev’s arm around his shoulders, Juno held him tightly around his waist.

In his other hand, he held his blaster, still set to kill.

They took their escape slowly, Nureyev limping along beside him, stumbling and breathing wetly. They were almost to the grate again when Nureyev stumbled, Juno barely catching him before he fell into view of the security cameras.

“Juno,” Nureyev said, his voice weak and shaky. When Juno looked at Nureyev again, he noticed how pale and clammy his face appeared, and he knew in his gut that something was very wrong. The thief smiled at him gently, teeth and lips bright red, and he added, “Leave me.”

Juno grit his teeth, ignoring the feeling and definitely ignoring Nureyev’s command. “Shut up, Glass.”

With some difficulty, they slipped through the grate. There was water in the sewers, about a foot deep and getting deeper, which wasn’t great given how many open wounds Nureyev had all over his body now.

Nureyev’s knees gave out suddenly, and he almost fell into the water before Juno caught him.

“Whoa, Glass, watch… it…” Juno trailed off, finally noticing just how wet and warm the arm he’d used to support Nureyev was, as well as that whole side of his torso. Touching the cloth of his turtleneck with his bare hand, he pulled it back to find it covered in blood.

“Nureyev, what… ?” Juno began weakly, before frantically searching Nureyev’s body.

None of the injuries he knew of should have caused that much blood loss. They were all just deep cuts, but nothing terribly bad. The worst injury Juno had clocked, other than the potential head injury and the knocked out teeth, was the electrical burn on his gut.

Juno didn’t find the wound so much as his finger nearly pressed into it as he felt along Nureyev’s ribs; it was a hole, situated perfectly between two ribs, and Juno could feel each heartbeat pump more blood out of it. His thoughts whirled around, trying to place when it could have happened and he nearly crumpled when he realized; Nureyev’s gasp, just before Juno shot the Piranha, her maniacal laughter, the two knives on the floor.

It was a deep, nasty wound that had been bleeding untreated for far too long. Nureyev would need treatment immediately.

“N-no,” he whispered, cursing himself. “Nureyev, I’m s-so sorry, I’m going to fix this, okay? I’m sorry—”

“Hush, my love. She got me just before you pulled the trigger,” he managed to say. “I didn’t know she had another knife. You couldn’t have known.”

“W-we can fix this,” Juno insisted again, looking around. He needed to wrap the wound, but there was nowhere for Nureyev to sit or lay down with the water rising as it was. “We have to get back up to the street.”

“I won’t make it—”

“Shut up,” Juno snapped, furious now. “We’re getting out here, both of us, and I’m fixing this.”

Juno hauled Nureyev with him through the sewers. When Nureyev’s stumbling got worse with the rising water levels, Juno managed to sling Nureyev over his shoulders.

“Oh, you’re so strong, Juno,” Nureyev said weakly, aiming for flirty, but it was weak and he sounded barely conscious.

When they finally reached the entrance to the sewers, Nureyev became too heavy to carry any further, and Juno was calling Rita on his comms before he'd even finished putting Nureyev down. Juno rolled the thief onto his uninjured side, and Nureyev’s eyes fluttered as he struggled to stay conscious, but his eyes managed to open again and meet Juno’s gaze as Rita answered.

“Heyya, Boss, what’s going—”

“Rita! I need you to pick Nu— me and Glass up at the sewer entrance you found for us!” he shouted, even though he knew he didn’t have to. Pulling his shirt off, he used one of Nureyev’s knives to cut it into strips. “We need to get Glass to a hospital—”

Nureyev coughed, shaking his head and wincing when Juno sat him up and began wrapping the strips of his shirt around the thief’s ribs.

“Love, I’m no— I can’t go to a hospital, just go without me,” Nureyev tried again, dropping his head onto Juno’s shoulder with a groan when Juno pulled the makeshift bandages tight.

“No! I’m not leaving you down here—” Juno began, but cut himself off with a sob.

“I’m not going to make it, my love,” Nureyev said, his head lolling back as Juno lowered him onto the ground again. Rita made a distressed noise, and Juno could hear Benten in the background asking something.

“Shut up!” Juno snapped, tears in his eyes as he rested one hand on Nureyev’s hip and used the other to cradle his cheek. “You're not dying, goddamn it. And even if you are, I’m not letting it happen in the fucking sewers!”

Rita sputtered, panic gripping her voice as she cried, “Die?! Who’s dyin’?! Is Mista Glass—”

Juno could hear Benten demanding the comms from Rita, and then suddenly he’s on the line. “Juno? Is that you? What the hell is going on?”

Hearing Benten’s voice broke the tight control Juno had managed to keep over himself. Everything came crashing down around Juno as his tears welled up and began to fall, and he didn’t know what to do. He had messed up so badly this time, with the vault, and then stalling on taking his shot, and not bothering to look for worse injuries. It was one thing to risk himself, but Nureyev?

Nureyev’s fingers tangled with Juno’s where they rested on his hip. Giving Juno a weak squeeze, and an even weaker smile, Nureyev struggled to suck in a breath. His breathing sounded wet and rattling, and his hand felt cold through the glove he wore.

“Juno!” Benten shouted, shaking Juno from his thoughts.

Leaning forward, Juno pressed his forehead to Nureyev’s and sobbed, “Ben, please.”

“We’re on our way, Juno,” Benten said without hesitation.

Juno sobbed again and added, “It’s Rex, he’s— it’s bad, Ben. I fucked up so badly.”

Benten shushed him gently. “We’ll figure things out, you just hang tight and stay on the line,” he said sternly.

“Okay,” Juno gasped, putting his comms down a short distance away, and he could hear Benten kicking people out of the cafe.

Holding back another sob, Juno moved to cradle Nureyev’s face in both of his hands, watching him closely. “Help is coming, Nureyev. Just hold on,” he begged quietly, quiet enough that his comms wouldn’t pick up his voice, tears running down his face. Nureyev was trying to stay awake, but his eyelids were fluttering quite a bit, and his breathing was slowing down.

“Nureyev, talk to me, you have to stay awake,” he whispered, hating how broken his voice sounded between them.

“N-not sure I… can, my love,” Nureyev said slowly with a wet chuckle, his eyes rolling back.

“Nureyev, no! Stay awake!” Juno begged, slapping his cheek a bit until he opened his eyes.

Meeting Juno’s eye hazily, Nureyev smiled a little bit and reached up to rest his hand on Juno’s where it cradled his face. “Ha-have to say, g-going out… in the arms of a b-beautiful lady is a n-nice surprise,” he said in a whisper, and Juno bit his cheek against another loud sob.

“Stop kidding around, Nureyev,” he pleaded, on the edge of hysterics. He pressed his lips to Nureyev’s, who tried to return the kiss, but was too weak. Releasing a desperate, mournful sound, Juno said, “You can’t die, Nureyev.”

“W-we all die someday, dear detective. I’m only h-happy I got to know you b-before I did,” Nureyev said with a sigh. “Juno Steel, you were the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“No, that’s not good enough for me. It’s not enough!” Juno bit out, pressing a hard kiss to Nureyev’s lips as he sobbed. He didn’t care how childish he sounded, didn’t care that he couldn’t just demand that someone not die because he loved him and wasn’t done yet.

And just like that, Juno knew with perfect clarity and without even a bit of doubt that he was in love with Peter Nureyev. Even though he’d only known him for a very short time, he knew. It was different from any other time he claimed he was in love, even with Diamond. The only other times he could say even compared were his love for Benten, Rita, and Mick. Nureyev was important, and Juno wasn’t sure what sort of life he could have if Nureyev wasn’t in it.

Even if the thief couldn’t stay, Juno needed him somewhere in the universe to make it all worth it.

But if Juno had to live in a galaxy without Peter Nureyev in it, he knew he couldn’t let him leave it without knowing.

Juno kissed Nureyev again, sobbing as the thief weakly responded. “Nureyev,” he whispered, their mouths still pressed together. “Nureyev, please hold on. I-I… I need you, I-I-I can’t— I love you, Nureyev.”

The thief sucked in a sharp breath at that, trying to open his eyes properly, and his mouth began to move, seemingly trying to speak. But Juno kissed him again, trying to get him to conserve some of his energy.

“I-I-I know it’s ridiculous, and we just met, but it’s true, Nureyev, just,” Juno paused to sob again, “Just hold on a bit longer, for me, please. I know how selfish that is to ask, and I know— I just got you, I can’t lose you.”

Nureyev nodded just a little bit, but Juno pulled back just in time to watch the thief lose consciousness.

“Nureyev! Wake up!” he shouted, slapping Nureyev’s face a few times, and his eyes did reopen, though they were unfocused.

“… Juno,” Benten’s voice came through the comms, reminding him very suddenly that he and Nureyev were not quite so alone. “We’re almost there, just hang tight and keep Rex awake if you can.”

Juno nodded, even though he knew Benten couldn’t see him. There was a lot Juno would have to deal with, especially if his brother had been paying enough attention to have overheard Nureyev’s name, but that was something for him to handle much later.

The next few times Nureyev drifted off again, Juno was successful in bringing him around until Nureyev finally stopped responding, his breathing ragged and his eyes rolling back.

Juno held his breath as he pressed his fingers to Nureyev’s throat, feeling his thready pulse. Shaking, Juno pressed his ear to Nureyev’s chest to listen to his heartbeat.

“I love you,” Juno whispered through his tears, and he could hear the sound of a car door slam just outside the entrance to the sewers. Sobbing again, Juno repeats, “I love you, Nureyev.”

[Previous Chapter][Next Chapter]

#the penumbra podcast #the penumbra fanfic #junoverse #juno steel #jupeter #gerry writes #full fic #bittersweet

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harleenfleck · 4 years

Text

“Despite the danger (Part 1)”

Joker/Arthur Fleck x Reader Fic

Summary: Joker is the love of your life, despite the reputation it carries. You know that, but you don’t care, after he rescued you from a horrible hole you were trapped in. Now, you both lives together, being happy. But you ignore all the risks that come with being the lover of the Clown Prince of Crime.

Warning: Violence, mentions of prostitution, mentions of sexual things, not smut (Not yet)

Words: 2.9k

Notes: Well… Idk where did this come from. Okay, I know, was Lana, Lana was my inspiration baaaaaack, and now she did it while I was writing this.

The truth is I wanted to write something like this for a long time and I just encouraged myself to do it. I think it went well (? I’ve divided into two parts, just for more pleasureeeee.

Thanks to my two brain cells again for made synapsis, I don’t know what I’do without you gurls. Thanks to the Microsoft Translate for translating some things I couldn’t translate.

And agaaaain the same apology HAHA I'm sorry if I make some grammatical, spelling or writing mistakes, english is not my native language, is other, blablablablablaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

Hope you like it! Wait for the Part 2! 😉

...

You woke up one morning, in the middle of some soft white sheets, the sunlight had come in through the window, causing you to open your eyes. You looked next to you, and there he was, ruining those white sheets with his green hair and his damaged clown makeup.

Yes, you are the Clown Prince of Crime dear lover.

Stretching out your arms, you looked at his face sleep peacefully. How could someone who committed crimes, murders and attacks look so angelic?

You kissed his forehead, got up carefully from bed so you wouldn't make any noise, looking for your underwear.

The night before, the assault he had planned for months had been so successful, there was so much emotion and energy in his body that he had to discharge it on you. And you didn't refuse it.

In a light dress, you walked out of the room, letting Arthur rest. Breakfast should be first, but you'd rather have a glass of cognac and a cigarette first. Looking out the window, drinking from the glass liquor, you thought all that comes with being the most wanted criminal in Gotham City. Sometimes it was anguish, anger and revenge. Other times it was successful.

Your toughts reminds you your past, your sad past.

The night when you and Joker met, something that could be dangerous, but him it was your only way out.

You lived in an environment you knew perfectly well you could die any moment, working in a stripclub. Drugs, alcohol, dirty money, criminals, something of every day for you. You didn't think much about your situation, you were just trying to survive.

You hated your job, but you didn't get another chance. Family that could help you? Don’t think so, your closed-minded family was so disappointed in you for a lot of things, but trying to starting to discover your sexuality was what it drove them crazy, throwing you out of your own home. You tried to get ahead and a friend offered you his help, but he spat in your face and cheating in your face too, you fell into that brothel was the worst thing could happen to you, and you just wanted to find a damned exit.

But you were under threat, your boss wanted you to work for him until your body will stop being young. Your friend made fun of you, he was looking for “employees” for his boss, and you fell straight into his trap.

Every time you went to sleep you cried, waiting for something to happen, anything that will get you out of there.

Amd a magical night, your daily request before sleep came true.

That night you worked like any other, dancing with the neon lights and aesthetic wigs, feeling worthless. Your dancing turn was over, and as you came down from the table you observe the bodyguards very nervous.

“Shit, the clowns are coming, this gonna be a fucking mess”

Clowns? You thought What the fuck did they mean by clowns?

You looked at it yourself when they arrived.

It was the most feared crime clan in town. Everyone inside the club thought about leaving the place, but it was too late. Once the clowns came in, no one could get out anymore. Every clown was screaming, asking for attention and service immediately.

They were revolting and of course they were dangerous.

Although to be honest, you were already used to dealing with dangerous people.

They leader would be just like them? Or worst? Probably, and you didn’t want to check it out for yourself.

But the moment when you saw him walk through that door, walking gracefully and arrogantly, with one of his hands in his pocket and the other holding a cigarette, his green hair falling on his shoulders, and the clown makeup in his face.

You recognized him, that famous criminal that everyone in the city talked about, even your “coworkers” while they dressed and makeup before giving another show. You can’t catch your breath; your mind gets a twist. Everyone was afraid of him, and you were no exception. But at the same time, he attracted you from the moment you saw him.

You bite your lips, you wanted to be with him, at least that night. You really wanted so bad, but all of a sudden you got discouraged. You knew there were prettier women, with better bodies, and well, with more experience than you.

Feeling sad and looked down, you decided to get on with your business, which was to hand out the drinks. You could see the women dancing for the clowns and they weren't fools, they enjoyed the show.

You'd come to the tables with the tray full of beers, the clowns didn't even notice your presence. Your coworkes were like goddesses next to you, you were a simple angel.

But there was something strange, none of the women danced for the leader.

He was sitting, crossing his legs, resting on his elbows and interlacing his fingers. Does everyone really be so afraid of him? No one had come to him to give him a simple dance, they hadn't even offered him a drink. It even seemed that he was being forced to be there, which might perhaps be true, or maybe his men did something so good (or something so bad for others) that day, so he decided to "reward" them.

You could have done what everyone else dig, you could get on with your job, wait for the clowns to leave and everything would go back to "normal." But instead, you decided something else.

"Any drink for the Clown Prince of Crime?" You'd heard that bad men liked to be called by the nicknames that the press or the police put to them.

He, without turning his head, placed his eyes upon you, looking from head to toe.

Oh, shit. You thought. Maybe that’s wasn’t a good idea

“You're the first woman to come up to me without fear of me”

“Well, it’s part of my job be helpful to all customers” With a shy smile and lovely voice, you left a neer in his table. He kept seeing you.

“Oh, I see… I see you’re a sweet bunny” You blushed, and he notice that. With an ironic laugh, the prince clown smokes, that put a smile in your face “What’s your name, doll?

Confused, you doubted whether to tell him the truth, because tell your real name to the clients are totally forbidden in the “job”.

“Oh, it’s belladonna” You responded, hoping that would satisfy his curiosity. But you knew better than anyone that when a "client" was infatuated with one of the girls, he was going to do his best to have that girl for him.

“Belladonna, like the poison flower? Pretty, really pretty nickname, but I want to know your real name”

And to be honest, you wanted the clown to be infatuated with you that night.

“y/n…” You whispered. The arrogant clown started playing with the purple hairs that stroked your arms.

“y/n, hmm… Nice hair, beauty color”

“It’s a wig, but thank you”

“I know darling…” Stopping playing with the lock of fake hair, he saw you again, with a disturbingly attractive look “You know who I am?”

He expected an answer, and you were afraid to answer it correctly.

But why did he do that? What did he win for that?

“You’re the Joker… Right?”

A huge laugh was heard in the place, the bodyguards noticed, they thought you’d be fucked. And maybe they were right, but not in the way they thought it would happen.

“Smart girl, smart girl… Let’s go to one of the rooms, I want to… Talk more with you…”

His devilish smile bewitched you.

Yes! You going to pass the night with him. You’d finally spend the night with someone you really wanted.

Taking his hand, you two walked to one of the luxurious rooms, and you noticed how some clowns turned around surprised, it seemed unusual for the clown prince to ask to be with some harlot.

Once inside, you threw Joker into bed, and you were about to undress.

“Hey, stop”

Suddenly you stopped, confused.

“Huh?”

“I said I want to talk with you, I don’t want to fuck you”

Blushing, you felt so silly, so embarrassed, at least the short dress hadn’t fallen to the floor.

When he noticed your shame, he started laughing again.Was he making fun of you? Maybe he had de right to humiliated you.

Putting the straps back on, you put your hands in your back, looking at the floor.

“You’re not a woman of this place”

“W-what?”

You asked more confused, Joker was just watching you, watching how you behave when you were around him.

“Any other whore would have insulted me and said “Don’t waste my time” and left me alone here. You act only like a confused and scared girl. You don’t belong here, y/n, you don’t belong here”

His deep voice made you tremble.

Maybe he was right, but he didn’t know the fact that it was the first time you wanted to be with a man in a long time, and he was the lucky one.

“You’re not here cause you want to, or am I wrong?”

You didn’t have the courage to answer him with the truth, but surely your face ratted you out.

You found out for his next question.

“C’mon, tell me y/n, what kind of woman like you doing in a place like this?”

He crossed his legs again, ready to listen you.

You weren’t sure about that, why he wants you hear that from you?

“I-I didn’t really have many options after my family kicked me out of my house. A friend told me about being a waitress, but was a lie… And I-I got caught with more lies and now… I’m here”

It was so embarrassing that you didn’t even want to see him. He’d probably make fun of you.

He would take his cigarette in his fingers, smoking it, as he listened to your sad story.

“What kind of friends you have, it hurts more his stabbing that one of an enemy” Joker threw his cigarette to the floor and crushed it with his shoe. He came up to you, taking off your wig, caressing your hair and smelling it. That caused sensations in you.

He came to your ear and spoke.

“y/n, my name it’s Arthur, and from now you’ll come with me”

“What? But my boss gonna kill m—"

“If he dares touch you, I’ll break his damn face, by the way, is your friend male or female? It’s working here?”

With that question you knew that nothing good was coming. But anyway, you wanted to get out of there.

“It’s a man, it’s the bartender”

“Hmmm... Follow me”

You two left the room, taking you with his left hand. With his right hand he looked for something in his pockets.

“The party is over!” Joker screamed, the clowns stopped and got up, leaving the dancers aside. He let you for a moment, heading to the bartender “Hey you! You fucking liar!” he pulled out his gun and fired right in his head. The dancers screamed in fear, you too, the bodyguards pointed it at him with more guns. Joker took you again, surrounding you with his arm.

“I had a problem with him, personal matters, I’m sorry about the mess” Your chest contracted, he blamed himself for you “I’m going to take her, I want her for me, and nobody here will change my mind, and if you try, you’ll end up like that asshole”

Fear for both, you were hoping they wouldn’t attacked you two.

But the truth was that no one was drawn to mess with the Joker.

You watched as everyone stared you, in fear and pity, how you trapped in the clutches of the Joker. You wanted to make fun of them, but it wasn’t the time.

Away from everyone, Joker took you with him and his clan, leaving that horrible brothel.

That magical night, after you two made love, you asked him why he pulled you out of that awful place. Thoughtful, with his makeup ruined for your kisses, he answered.

“Love at first sight, perhaps?”

You smiled to him and kissed him again. Maybe you felt love at first sight, too.

Your life took a huge turn from Joker rescued you. You felt he was going to save you from the second he confessed you his real name. Name by the way, you tattooed between your fingers. In your other hand, you had his “other” name tattooed.

Looking your tattoo between the glass of cognac, Arthur Fleck was the best thing that could have happened you in your sad life.

“Why are you dressed, y/n?”

You turned back, there he was, just with his red pants. Seeing like this I’ll turn you in.

“I was hungry, what if I had breakfast naked and any of you men came? How embarrassing that would be”

“Oh yeah? What kind of breakfast are that?” Arthur took your cigarette and started smoking. You decided to leave it to him.

“My favorite”

“Your favorite? I thought I am your favorite breakfast” Arthur took you from the waist. You saw his emeralds in his eyes, his worn makeup, being Joker and Arthur at once. How not fall in love with that man?

But what excited you more is that he was your man.

“You always are my favorite, Art” You kissed him. Arthur, with his feelings altered, he taking you to the bathroom, you two had a long and satisfying shower, he made you yours again there. Any part of the house he would make you yours.

How you loved him, and how he adored you.

When finally he let you get dressed, he would wear his crimson suit, again.

“You’re going to leave again Artie?”

“y/n, baby, I have business”

“I thought your business ended yesterday”

“Crime never rests, doll” Buttoning up his turquoise shirt, you could hear his lament in his voice, finished buttoning his yellow vest, he looked at you and took you by the cheeks “But tonight I won’t let you sleep”

“Like yesterday?”

He let out a laugh, you loved his laughs, more when are spontaneous.

“I only think in you, y/n, in your beautiful eyes, your pretty smile, you scent and how I want to fuck you every night, my doll”

That blush you. Like the first day.

Everything of Arthur freaked you, especially his madness.

“Cheeky boy” Kissed him again, you really wanted he would stay with you all day.

“I gotta go, I want you awake when I get back” Arthur put on his read coat, you helped him put it on.

“Be careful darling, I’ll wait for you for the dinner”

Within their strange relationship, moments like this warmed your hearts.

When you escaped with him, Arthur had the confidence to tell you about his past. Both were rejected, beaten and humiliated. Maybe that’s why that night he had the need to get you out of the brothel, maybe he knows from that second that he saw you for the first time that you and him were soulmates. He knew that both souls are scarred.

Those moments when you said “I love you” without telling him directly, the treasured in his memory.

Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if you had appeared when he was only Arthur Fleck, when Joker still did not appear.

He stopped thinking about it, was dumb. He had you by his side and it was all that matters.

Kissing his lips, Arthur left the home.

He spent the day working, as much he wanted to concentrate, he could not help thinking of your eyes, your body, all you.

And how much he wanted you.

He returned early, and noticed the door was open. Pushing it, he went into the house and felt was going to die. The room was a mess, one of your favorite books was on the floor, wet with cognac.

And a note stuck in the wall with a knife.

You knew perfectly, despite all the love you felt for Arthur, your safety remained the same as in that brothel. It could even be more dangerous.

The note was signed by Joker enemies.

The assault the last night he did it was insulting to them, and in revenge, you were kidnapped.

Continue.

#joker fanfiction #Joker 2019 fanfic #arthur fleck #Arthur fleck fanfic #Fanfiction #Write #Omg #I can't belive I do this again #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #Yess #Lana Was my Inspiration #Natalie Portman in Closer too #Actually the detail of the wig was for her #<3

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wallclockscrafts-blog · 4 years

Text

How to find calligraphic wooden-ware in Pakistan?

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In any script even every dot, every stroke, depicts the kind of a object that is natural.Roman Calligraphy wooden-ware Art Place settings There are loads of regular and modern options when it comes to wooden-ware decor. Patterns, landscapes photos and carry excellent aesthetic value and sculptures are all contemporary.Maintaining a scrapbook is a lovely way to store photographs and mementoes of a vacation or special event. Cut-out articles ticket stubs and postcards all can be gathered and tagged for prosperity. Whether you produce a collage which may be framed and put on display, or anything more personal, hand lettered present tags will tie it all together. They've so a lot more applications than just being added to a gift wrap. And if you are provided a gorgeous gift tag which you just can't bear to throw off (and why should you?) You might like a few of those ideas. 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They are guaranteed to please and could be taken home by your guests and valued as a reminder.I don't know about you, but I am a fan of faffing and making things look quite. Foraged and give me a few objects locates to arrange and I am happy - much more happy when a there is a label. Style it with your favorite paintings onto a shelf or tray on a desk. I can't resist tea cups, blossom hearts along with French glass vases folded from old novels. Indian Calligraphy Art India being an area of many languages has diversity of this artistic direction of writing. Sanskrit is among the most ancient languages. Of duplication of texts, it was used Within this language the craft of calligraphy has served many purposes because its starting in 2nd century BCE.Calligraphy novel mark with beautiful quotesInsert some fairly and functional organisation by minding these sweet and small tags to cloth storage bins using a safety pin or tying them onto wicker baskets functions as well. Whether it's storing bottles or pegs from the laundry area or makeup in the bedroom, you will know where things are without needing them. Sometimes a line of poetry or amusing words out of your favourite novel are worth watching regular in addition to making a thoughtful gift for a bookworm. Two of my favourite things and one wonderful combination AND fairly, practical.Roman wooden-ware CalligraphyWhy don't you blend a hand-lettered tag to some plant stem or around the grip of a jug of flowers to allow them to sing much more. A couple of words written on will probably be sufficient. Alternately, fill an empty jam jar with flowers cut from the garden, wind some many times around the rim and then add a gift label. It's the tiny changes which make the biggest differences here.Vases of flowersArabic Calligraphy wooden-ware ArtYou could use two or one of these gift tag thoughts or scatter the appearance around and decorate your living space. The best bit is, it's really easy to achieve, have the benefit of being timeless and will make daily beautiful. Japanese is one of popular language for tattoos nowadays. However, we can even use calligraphies composed by brush the place of honour of the house, in the niche Tokonoma. There are numerous choice calligraphy (Verses, Poetries, Sayings and Independent Kanji) for various seasons. In Indiait could be customized to alter calligraphy decorating as per our style suits. Calligraphy tags for storage in the laundry areaCalligraphy quotes make beautiful keepsakesQuote, candy-jar .

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abysskeeper · 5 years

Note

rwby first season freezerburn. So at school.

((Set after volume 1 finale...which is still technically volume 1. Or right after chapter 3 of Reflections...because yes...everything I write for Weiss is connected.))

The library was a relatively quiet place, even after classesand training had ended and students started filing in to do their homework andstudy for upcoming exams. It was a tradition a majority of the students atBeacon held to, and whether that was due to a respect of tradition or a fear ofGlynda was much debated. Still, there were pockets here and there of studentschatting quietly amongst themselves about any number of topics that could belisted.

Yang hadn’t intended on stumbling across Blake and Weiss onher way back from getting coffee for her team (or tea…in Blake’s case). Lastshe knew, everyone was studying quietly, albeit slightly uncomfortably, whenshe left. And it wasn’t like she intended on standing nearby andeavesdropping on them, she couldn’t even hear anything! But she did lean upagainst a bookshelf and watch as they finished up their conversation. Blakesmiled and nodded after Weiss said something. As the Faunus got up to leave,Weiss placed her hand on her arm, said one more thing, and left both of themsmiling as Blake returned to Ruby and the table they were actually studying at.

Well, that was certainly a good sign. It was a much betterinteraction than the two had had over the past several days. Between yelling ateach other, and running away, and struggling to come to terms with the secretrevealed that Blake was a Faunus, and once a member of the White Fang, Yangwould definitely take smiles and quiet conversations. She doubted any team hadan immediately great start, but she had to believe their team beginnings wereon the worse end of the spectrum.

Before Yang could even pull herself from her thoughts, Weisshad noticed her and stood up. Damn, she hadn’t intended on getting caughteither…even if she really hadn’t heard anything. She watched with a sheepishgrin as the other girl walked over to her and placed her book back on the shelfshe was leaning against. Weiss didn’t say anything though, and she rolled hereyes, knowing she was expected to speak first.

“Everything good?” Yang asked, relenting to whatever moveWeiss was trying to play.

“Yes,” Weiss answered and after a moment nodded, as ifreaffirming it in her own mind for herself, “Yes, I think so. Or, it will be,anyways.”

She looked down at the coffees on the tray Yang was holdingand gratefully took the one offered to her. She took a long sip of her coffee,even more grateful it was already at a temperature that could be drank, andnodded her thanks. Weiss turned around and Yang followed after her, onlystopping when Weiss sat back down at the smaller table she and Blake were justtalking at. Out of curiosity, Yang paused and waited to see if she would sayanything else. Or for Weiss to shoo her away, whichever came next.

Weiss took a while, watching a few tables over where Rubyand Blake sat studying, the former animatedly informing the latter aboutsomething or other. Her icy blue gaze remained almost solely on Blake, watchingthe girl smile and roll her eyes as she humored their young leader. It had beenthe most at ease she had seen Blake since they started at Beacon and itwas…nice. “I do care about her, you know,” she said finally and herstare settled on Yang, “I care about all of you.”

Yang blinked, and slowly took the seat across from Weiss.Had that ever been in question? Sure, she didn’t always have the best attitude,but Weiss did still care. She settled into being their teammate and got overnot being the leader of team RWBY relatively quickly. She had gone along withtheir team outings and shenanigans like building bunk beds, and often she hadfun herself. She even saved Ruby the first day they met. The attitude wasthere, but Yang never doubted somewhere in there that she cared too.

“Of course you do, I know that,” Yang said.

“You…” Weiss hesitated and looked down at her coffee, “Youimplied otherwise a few days ago. I just wanted you to know, I know I am notthe best at expressing it, but I do care for you all.”

Oh. Right. She had said that while they were looking forBlake, hadn’t she? Maybe in this mess, she had something to apologize for too.“Look, Weiss, I know that,” Yang started, “I’m sorry. I said some things Ididn’t mean in the heat of the moment. I was frustrated and tired and I…Ishouldn’t have said that,” she sighed, “I know you care, I promise. I’m sorry.”

It was faint, but Weiss smiled in relief. “I accept yourapology. And I understand,” she said and looked back up at Yang, “There weremany things I shouldn’t have said either. I have since apologized for them, aswell. It was…the White Fang is a sensitive subject,” she admitted and turnedback to watching Blake and Ruby. It wasn’t like that hadn’t become obvioussince the fight in their room. “They made a difficult situation worse.”

Yang remained quiet, unsure of what else could be said tothat. Ruby had already tried to apologize that night, but that wasn’t whatWeiss was looking for. And she still wasn’t sure what Weiss was looking for,except for maybe a listening ear. That was the least she could provide.

“But it doesn’t matter now. The White Fang doesn’t matter,they are in Blake’s past just as much as they are in mine,” Weiss decided andshe turned back to Yang with that same, faint smile, “You guys, team RWBY, arealmost like a family to me. That means a lot to me, given the circumstancesof…well…”

Weiss didn’t need to say anything else, Yang understood.Many were envious of the SDC heiress, likely due to the assumption she hadeverything anyone could ever want. Money was never an issue for her and herstatus probably granted her the opportunity to a great number of things. Butmoney couldn’t buy everything. Yang had never envied her, or anyone rich forthat matter, for that reason. She was only proved right when she actually metWeiss. Sure, the heiress had everything physically she could ever need, but herarrogance bespoke of something deeper. It was a mask that hid some deep-seated hurt,and every so often she caught a glimpse of a glint of unspoken loneliness, isolation,in her teammate’s blue eyes.

It was something Yang could understand. Something perhapsshe saw too many times in her own reflection.

Thus Weiss’s statement was something she could alsoappreciate, perhaps better than anyone else. And she was glad they were all ableto start giving her that. “We are family,” Yang corrected her with agrin, “That’s what a team is. No one is gonna have your back out there fightingGrimm better than your own family, so you better get used to it, Snowflake.”

Weiss smiled at the sentiment, happy that Yang had soreadily corrected her and confirmed what she wanted. Her expression fell into oneof bemusement at the end of the blonde’s statement though, “Snowflake? What’sthat supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Yang shrugged, grin growing wider, “But everyonein a family gets nicknames,” she explained like it was the most obvious thingin the world. “I know, I know, Ice Queen has already been floated around—” Weissheld back a grimace at the name, “—But that seems a little harsh. Do you notlike Snowflake? How about Weiss Cube?”

“That is really not necessary,” Weiss said, trying for all orRemnant to sound serious and disapproving. The corners of her lips werebetraying her though as they started to turn upwards.

“Oh it most definitely is, Weiss Cream Cone,” Yang saidagain. She thought on it a moment before shaking her head, “Nah, way too long.”

“Honestly, just Weiss would b—”

“I got it! Weissicle!” Yang exclaimed.

Weiss couldn’t hold it in any longer and burst into gigglesdespite herself. Yang watched her for a few moments, both proud and enthralledthat she got the other girl to laugh. She had seen Weiss laugh and smile a fewtimes now, but something felt different about this. She had always been pretty,but she was prettier when she let those walls down and let her true self shinethrough. Something Yang hoped for Weiss’s sake she would do more often now.

“I think, if you are so insistent and Weissicle is the bestyou can come up with,” Weiss said as her giggle fit calmed down, “I would muchprefer Snowflake.”

“Duly noted,” Yang agreed. She let herself look over Weissagain for another moment before adding, “You should do that more often.”

“What? Laugh?”

“Yup,” Yang nodded and stood up, signaling theirconversation was nearing an end. “We’re family now, remember? You can beyourself around us, I think we’d all like it better that way. Besides, youractual personality is prettier,” she smiled and winked at her before gatheringtheir coffees and walking back towards the rest of their team, “We shouldprobably get back to studying. You don’t want to see what happens when you makeRuby wait for some much-needed coffee.”

“R-right,” Weiss agreed, too shocked at the turn to reallysay anything else. After a moment of staring after the blonde, she grabbed herown cup of coffee and followed suit. And if she returned to study with the restof her team with a slight blush and a small, satisfied smile, at least no onecommented on it.

#rwby #freezerburn #weiss schnee #yang xiao long #my writing #what is this?#we just don't know #trafuris #don't mind me #have I made you ship freezerburn yet?#probably not #I've just been sitting on this too long

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artificialqueens · 5 years

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Mateo's Eight, chapter four (Branjie)--athena2

Previously: Vanessa laid out the plan for the heist and agreed to let Brooke work with her Now: They begin the steps of the plan while Brooke deals with her feelings for Vanessa

A/N: Thank you all so much for the feedback on this fic! I never expected people would like this and it means so much to me! Thank you as always to Writ for being the most amazing beta, you’re the best! <3 <3

Please leave some feedback if you can, I really do appreciate it!

Read on AO3

—

Brooke is early as usual, hands warmed by the coffees she’s holding as everyone stampedes by her outside the Met. The coffee is a probably too-desperate attempt to get herself on Vanessa’s good side, but it’s all she can come up with, because Vanessa has total control. Brooke is going to have to follow all her orders, because while she doesn’t truly think Vanessa would give her up to the police, she used to think the same thing about herself.

Brooke should have never taken that risk last summer when she had so much to lose, so much more than Vanessa knew. Hell, she shouldn’t be taking this risk now. But if they succeed, and she gets that money, the risk will be worth it. And if she has to butter Vanessa up with coffee, so be it.

Vanessa finally arrives, ten minutes late without Brooke to remind her of the time, looking fearful of all the people and the huge buildings looming around them. That Vanessa-shaped space in Brooke’s heart–a space she thought had stopped feeling anything–aches at seeing Vanessa suffering. She longs to wrap Vanessa in her arms and protect her from the world, but she has no chance of getting away with that now.

“What the hell is that? You trying to poison me?” Vanessa jabs a finger at the coffee.

“Good morning to you too.”

“Whatever.” Vanessa sips her coffee, and Brooke knows from her silence that she got the order exactly right: three sugars (not that Vanessa needs any sugar), two creams, and a shot of caramel. Brooke sips at her own black coffee, the rich taste making her think of all the times she and Vanessa drank coffee and shared apple pie at the diner.

Brooke slows her walk to match pace with Vanessa as they go inside, and figures it’s best if their conversations are about the plan and nothing else. “So, there’s no cameras inside the bathrooms due to health laws, which I’m sure you know, and the bathroom closest to the kitchens is the best location to steal the necklace.”

“I know,” Vanessa says. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a round black piece the size of a dime. “Put this in your ear. Yvie’s on the other end, she’s in their security system to see how big the camera’s blindspot is.”

“Ear comms?” Brooke asks in disbelief. “What are we, superheroes?”

“Just put it in,” Vanessa hisses. “And I think you’re a villain, for the record.”

“Villains do have good hair.” Vanessa used to tear her hands through it in bed, twirling strands around her fingers, and braid it when she was bored, each twist woven with love as Vanessa trailed kisses down Brooke’s neck.

“And big mouths.”

Brooke knows she’s been beaten and shoves the thing in her ear. It doesn’t feel much different from her ear buds. She and Vanessa would sit tethered together by a shared ear bud wire, giggling as they chose songs for each other, a dazzling world of music unfolding for them.

“Keep up, Brooke.”

—

“You wanna run a scam together?”

Brooke’s stomach flutters at Vanessa’s offer. They’ve been dating over a month, have exchanged kisses and watched movies at each other’s apartments, done cons in front of each other, but this somehow seems more intimate.

You had to be completely in sync to run a con with someone, because any hesitation or second-guessing meant disaster. You had to trust them completely to follow through on their end. Brooke’s never had that level of trust in anyone. Her ex-husband Frank was the last person she trusted, however half-heartedly, and he had taken the most precious thing to her heart, leaving her with legal bills on top of the others.

But Vanessa doesn’t know about that. Brooke isn’t ready for Vanessa to know about that. She doesn’t know if she’s ready for a duo con either, but she trusts Vanessa and her skills.

“Sure,” Brooke says. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking some old-fashioned distract-and-grab.”

It’s a two-person street job, where one talks to the mark and distracts them while the other picks the mark’s pocket. Easy enough, but there’s that trust again, not to mention the danger of being on the street.

Brooke usually shies away from street cons, which require you to get much closer to the mark, so close they could identify you or even grab you if they figured out what you were doing. Brooke prefers running hers with a phone or credit card barrier, with lots of careful planning to avoid danger. But she knows Vanessa is well-suited to street scams, having the boldness and natural charisma needed to get strangers to bet money on a card game they’d never win.

“Okay,” Brooke agrees. “But I have some rules for street scams. Nothing after dark, no marks that look too dangerous, and no marks that need the money more than us.”

Vanessa nods. “Let’s do it.”

—

“How we doin’, Yvie?”

Vanessa’s voice rasps in front of Brooke and then crackles in her ear a millisecond later, a jarring effect she hasn’t gotten used to yet.

They stand in front of the bathroom, trying to act casual as Yvie watches them through her hacked security feed.

“So, there’s about three feet in front of the door and twelve feet across where the camera won’t pick up anything at all,” Yvie says.

“That’ll be enough for Silky. She’s gonna take the necklace off Plastique in the bathroom and put it on a tray in the blindspot to have it brought in the kitchen,” Vanessa explains.

“Sounds good,” Brooke says. She has to admit she’s impressed by the thinking Vanessa put into this. Brooke had reviewed the more detailed last Vanessa gave her last night and even she couldn’t find a flaw in it.

Watching Vanessa so closely, having the intimacy of planning a con thrown at Brooke again is bringing back feelings she’d forced herself to give up six months ago. She knows what she did was irreparable, and she even succeeded in pretending she no longer has feelings for Vanessa. But those feelings are returning as she watches Vanessa slam-dunk her coffee cup in the garbage, as she watches Vanessa’s eyes narrow in focus, head bent over her notebook. But Brooke can’t do anything about it, can’t do anything to jeopardize the heist. She’s silenced her feelings for six months, and she can do it a little longer.

They test the routes they’ll take on the big night, ignoring the beauty of the art around them, vivid colors and landscapes so realistic you’d expect to feel grass if you touched it. They’re much prettier than her world, and Brooke wants to climb inside and live there. Brooke wishes they could be here to take in the art, regular people on a date, taking pictures of Vanessa she could post later and look at whenever she wanted.

Maybe she can come back with Zoey some day. But that’s the future, and Brooke can’t let herself think that far ahead. She just has to breathe and go one day at a time, like she’s always done, no matter how much she wants to think weeks and months ahead.

Their work here is done, and Brooke follows Vanessa to their next stop.

—

Brooke dials the clunky phone. The Nokias had been her idea, a way to signal each other without being obvious. She calls the phone in Vanessa’s pocket, the vibration signaling that Brooke is ready, and Vanessa can begin.

They’ve already chosen their mark, a businessman in a tailored suit and shoes worth Brooke’s whole paycheck. Shoes are a good indicator, she’s learned. Anyone can have one nice suit, or even one nice jacket. But no one would wear shoes that expensive, especially in maroon–people tend to choose black when splurging on shoes, because it matches more–as an everyday shoe, unless they had ten more pairs.

Her heart picks up speed, the familiar adrenaline running through her veins. Even as the anticipation makes her feel larger than life, Brooke forces herself to disappear into the crowd, to go unnoticed. It’s something she’s gotten good at, for how tall she is. When Frank got mad he screamed at the first person he saw, and Brooke learned how to vanish.

Vanessa winks, and Brooke trusts her.

“Excuse me,” Vanessa starts, walking up to the businessman fearfully, “I think I’m lost. Could you help me?”

Brooke forces herself to focus, because Vanessa is a wonder to watch. She draws in her shoulders and widens her eyes, becoming younger than she is, an innocent girl people would drop anything to help, even in a city where most of the population would step over a dead body. Brooke herself would do anything to help Vanessa right now.

He begins giving her directions, and Brooke slips her hand inside his pocket, Vanessa holding his attention so well he doesn’t notice. Part of Brooke burns at the hungry way he looks at Vanessa, but she tells herself taking his money is good enough revenge. He has a leather wallet, slim and lightweight, worth as much as the money in it. Brooke frees four hundreds and puts it back in his pocket before he finishes the directions. Brooke can’t fathom having so much money she can carry hundred-dollar bills, so much money she wouldn’t even notice they’re missing.

“Thank you so much for your help,” Vanessa says as they walk away, Brooke triumphantly passing Vanessa half the money. Before she knows what’s happening, Vanessa tugs her into an alley, breathlessly pressing her lips to Brooke’s.

It feels like an earthquake rumbling under Brooke’s skin, her body buzzing and heart throbbing beneath Vanessa’s touch, Vanessa’s hands fumbling as they try to slip under her coat and heavy sweater to reach her skin. She forces herself to pull away, telling Vanessa they can continue this in her apartment, both giggling as they walk down the street.

“Look how big those cupcakes are!” Vanessa points at a bakery, the kind where cookies are four bucks a pop. Cupcakes with bright buttercream flowers shine in the window and Brooke can see the longing in Vanessa’s eyes.

“You want one?”

“Oh, Brooke, you don’t have to–”

But Brooke is already pulling Vanessa inside the cozy bakery. She doesn’t need to buy overpriced cupcakes right now, but she’s high on the success on their scam, high on Vanessa’s smile, and Brooke would pay anything to keep that smile there, let Vanessa enjoy her night a bit longer.

“Which one do you want?”

Vanessa bites her lip, teetering back and forth in front of the glass case, from chocolate to strawberry to lemon to red velvet.

“I can’t pick,” Vanessa says finally. “I like lemon and chocolate.”

Brooke grins. “How about we get both and cut them in half? Then we each get two flavors.”

Vanessa’s smile overtakes her face, and Brooke falls a little harder.

—

“This place is…fancy,” Brooke manages, looking through the restaurant window at all the people in suits and dresses, reading menus that didn’t even have prices.

“Even the damn soda is probably ten dollars,” Vanessa mutters. “And look at that guy’s lunch! Probably paid fifty dollars for that salad with one piece of lettuce and no croutons.”

“Like there’s any other reason to eat salad,” Brooke says.

“Exactly! Coulda spent two bucks at McDonald’s and got more food than that.”

“People think stuff tastes better when they pay more for it. Or if it has a fancy name,” Brooke says, the two of them at peace for the moment, united in their longing to scam people who spend hundreds on one lunch and still leave a two-dollar tip for the servers. She and Vanessa used to dream of tipping a thousand dollars after their big con succeeded.

“Ain’t nothing in there better than pizza. Or mac and cheese. Or French fries,” Vanessa declares, and Brooke smiles.

“Especially with ketchup on the side,” Brooke dares, and the faint smile she earns from Vanessa is worth the scowl that replaces it a second later, Vanessa turning her head away.

“Are you sure this is gonna work?” Brooke asks, going back to the mission.

“I’m sure,” Vanessa says firmly. “Yvie’s been pretending to be Scarlet’s publicity head, hyping her up and talking to Plastique’s manager. Plastique requested Scarlet dress her for the Met.”

“She’s coming,” Scarlet hisses in their ear comms.

They turn their attention to the table inside where Scarlet nervously hugs Plastique. They sit across from each other and Brooke holds her breath as Scarlet begins talking about dress designs, casually mentioning how good a certain diamond necklace would look on Plastique.

“Damn. Scarlet could make a career out of this,” Brooke says, after she persuades Plastique to wear the necklace in just two tries.

“She’s good,” Vanessa agrees. “But not as good as me.”

“No, she’s not,” Brooke admits, the words slipping out though she knows they shouldn’t. She’s never been one to give out false praise, but Vanessa deserves it, has always deserved it, and Brooke can’t help herself.

Vanessa smiles, but it quickly turns to a frown. “Don’t be getting familiar. I’m calling the shots here, remember?”

Brooke nods, the two of them slipping into silence as Plastique agrees to wear the necklace and Scarlet suggests they meet Monday to sample dresses and view the necklace.

“Okay, on Monday, Scarlet will convince the jewel company to loan Plastique the necklace. She should have that covered.” Vanessa checks her phone. “Nina texted me. Vogue hired her as one of the ball interns and she’ll send more info when she can.”

“Okay.”

Vanessa crosses something off her list, and they move on.

—

Things come together over the next weeks, and Brooke is in awe. It’s like watching puzzle pieces finally making a complete picture. This was always Brooke’s favorite part of cons: the careful planning, analyzing each step and preparing for possible problems with it. Vanessa drew the finished picture and Brooke colored it in, perfecting each line.

They set up in a warehouse Yvie uses with her hacker friends, full of comfy, worn-in furniture. In days, it’s stocked with mission supplies and bags of chips and cookies that Yvie brings in, and it’s kind of cozy. Brooke has to admit that she counts down the minutes until she’ll be done teaching at the studio so she can head to the warehouse and work, the space always bursting with action.

Nina brings in a coffee maker, a blender, and a 3D printer, and Brooke mixes herself a smoothie and doesn’t think of where Nina got this stuff. There’s such an easy charm to Nina that it honestly doesn’t matter. Nina’s done well in her assigned role at Vogue, perfectly perky and cheerful and unassuming, getting them a seating chart and other information from the inside.

Nina has taken a liking to Brooke, always sitting next to her while they plan, and it’s nice to have a friend again, to be in the warehouse with the others working nearby, a change from the quiet life alone that Brooke’s had for six months.

“I got pizza!” Nina announces one night, loaded down with boxes. She sets them on the table and everyone swarms around her, even Yvie leaving her computer nest in the corner and taking slices for her and Scarlet. Brooke gets a slice for herself and looks over at Vanessa, pacing in front of the Met layout and seating chart taped to the wall, too lost in thought to care about pizza. Brooke grabs another slice and takes a breath.

“You want some string and tacks like the detectives on the serial killer shows?” Brooke asks.

Vanessa jumps and looks up at her, clearly surprised to have someone there. “Get outta here with that serial killer nonsense,” she says. “Besides, if I was making a murder board, it’d be prettier than this. I’d have matching colors and shit.”

“Flowers, too, I bet,” Brooke says.

“And ruffles.” Vanessa lowers her head and smiles like she’s lost a fight, her cheeks a rosy pink.

“Well, here,” Brooke says, handing Vanessa the plate. “You should eat something.”

“It has peppers,” Vanessa says quietly.

“Yeah. I know it’s your favorite.”

Vanessa is silent for a second, staring at the green peppers peeking through the cheese. She could throw it on the floor, or fling it back at Brooke, but instead, she takes a bite.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” Brooke fiddles with the hem of her sweater, wondering if Vanessa will say more. But Vanessa goes back to her charts, and Brooke walks away.

Brooke isn’t sure why she’s so desperate to get back on Vanessa’s good side. Maybe because she hasn’t been able to stop loving Vanessa, even after giving her name to the police. Maybe because things ended so horribly, with Brooke never getting a chance to explain, that this sudden re-entry to Vanessa’s world is too precious to mess up. Her last chance to at least get Vanessa to stop hating her, maybe explain what happened, tell Vanessa the secret she kept for so long. She doesn’t think she can repair the crack in between them, but maybe she can smooth out the edges, keep them from getting hurt on the broken pieces of memory.

Nina winks at her when she sits back down.

“What?” Brooke demands.

Nina raises an eyebrow. “You still like her.”

“I…” Brooke trails off, because there’s something about Nina that makes her impossible to lie to, like you’re lying to Mr. Rogers. “Maybe I do.” But even that’s a lie, because Brooke knows she does, has known the entire time. Why else was she going so far out of her way to do things for someone she sent to prison?

“I thought so.” Nina smiles. “A’keria told me things ended after a con went bad last summer?”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“How bad?” Nina asks softly. “Something you can try to talk through?”

Brooke just shrugs. They haven’t talked anything through, not that Vanessa has given her the chance. But how could she talk through sending Vanessa to prison, talk through her secrets Vanessa didn’t know? Talking about feelings has always been hard, something she could only manage with Vanessa. Lord knows her parents didn’t foster emotional health, ignoring each at dinner and arguing after they thought Brooke was asleep.

But Vanessa made her want to show her feelings. Vanessa made Brooke want to shout about her love from the rooftops and do every cliched thing people did in the rom-coms Vanessa always chose for movie night. Brooke knows she would still do all those things if Vanessa wanted them, and she knows the feelings she tried to push down haven’t gone anywhere, are poking through the soil like persistent spring flowers.

Brooke is still in love with her, and Nina’s smile proves they both know it.

“You know, I think you still have a shot.” Nina’s warm hand settles over her shoulder and Brooke has a lump in her throat because it’s been six months without anyone’s warmth or comfort, without a hand to hold or someone to burrow under a blanket with, and the simple touch is almost too much to handle. Nina points to the corner, and Brooke sees that Vanessa has eaten her whole slice of pizza, and she thinks maybe Nina is right.

—

Brooke snips the strings on the pristine bakery box, neatly cutting each cupcake and pulling Vanessa to the couch where they devour their feast, kissing frosting off each other’s lips.

“I love you,” Brooke says. It’s not as earth-shattering as she imagined, so natural it feels like any other statement. She’s never said it so easily, so early in a relationship, but she has also never meant it more. She loves Vanessa with everything she has, wants Vanessa with her every day, to hold her near and make dinner with and kiss on the couch.

“I love you too, Brooke. I really do.”

Brooke lays back on the couch, pulling Vanessa on top of her planting gentle kisses along her collarbone as her hands roam Vanessa’s back. Vanessa leans into her, lowering her lips to Brooke’s and sliding her hands up Brooke’s shirt again, stroking just beneath her ribs and making Brooke shudder.

“You sure you want to do this?” Brooke asks, pulling away from the kiss.

“I’m so sure, Brooke. I really, really love you, and I trust you. I want to do this with you.”

Brooke lets Vanessa pull her shirt off, both of them running to her bed. They nestle together afterwards, limbs intertwined, Vanessa’s head resting gently on Brooke’s chest.

Brooke is so warm with Vanessa’s skin against hers, so safe and secure, that she never wants this to end, never wants them to move from this bed.

She wants to tell Vanessa the truth about everything, stop the secret from wriggling inside her like a pit of snakes. She wants to tell Vanessa that she doesn’t teach workshops one Saturday a month like Vanessa thinks. She wants to tell Vanessa why she has so many bills, who the hospital ones belong to, how part of her heart was ripped away and she’d do anything to get it back.

But the words don’t come out, and instead she pulls Vanessa closer, buries her face in the top of Vanessa’s head, and drifts off.

—

The day of the heist creeps closer and closer as Brooke perfects her notes, making sure everything is accounted for, and she really thinks this will work. There’s ways it could go wrong, of course–there always is, especially with so many people involved–but the plans are so airtight, so organized, that Brooke can’t see anything wrecking them.

The real moment of truth happens on a Saturday, everyone crowded around the desk where Nina set up the 3D printer. Everyone holds their breath as a replica of the necklace is created out of thin air, a perfect copy of the one Scarlet saw in her dress fitting. Nina will find the fake after they steal the real one, and by the time anyone notices it’s just a worthless copy, they’ll already be 16 million dollars richer. Even Brooke can’t tell the difference between them, and things seem real in a way they haven’t so far. Duplicating the necklace is one of the hardest parts, and with that done, what can’t they do?

“Okay, Silky,” Vanessa starts, standing at the head of the table like a general about to lead her troops into battle. “You’ll be posing as a waitress. We’ll get Plastique in the bathroom and you take the necklace off her. Then put it on a waiter’s tray to get it in the kitchen with A’keria.”

“I’m sorry, but ‘In the kitchen with A’keria’ is the cooking show I never knew I needed,” Yvie interjects.

“I’d watch the shit out of that,” Scarlet says.

“I’ll be a guest star,” Nina says, and then the table is in uproar, Silky demanding a fried chicken episode.

Brooke snorts into her arm as Vanessa bites her lip to keep a laugh in before finally letting one out and then clapping to regain everyone’s attention.

“How are we gonna get Plastique in the bathroom?” Silky asks.

“We’re gonna put something in her food so she throws up,” Vanessa answers. “Everyone else will leave, ‘cause who wants to deal with barf, and I’ll stand outside so her bodyguard can’t get in.”

“Who’s gonna put the stuff in the food, though?” A’keria asks. “You got me in the kitchen, but I’m washing dishes, not serving them.”

“Send me in,” Brooke says quickly, having already come to that conclusion in her notes. Vanessa opens her mouth to protest, but Brooke cuts her off. “Have Nina tell Vogue they need a nutritionist in the kitchen. I’ll be the nutritionist, I’ll put the stuff in her dinner.”

Brooke knows from Vanessa’s steely eyes and the smug grin she’s trying to hide that she likes the idea but won’t admit it. “Fine,” Vanessa says.

Everyone resumes their own planning. Brooke is running through a timeline for the night when a coffee mug slides in front of her. Brooke looks up and realizes she and Vanessa are the only two left, so wrapped up in her notes that she never noticed the others leave.

“Last of the pot. Didn’t want to waste it.” Vanessa says, already back on the couch.

“Thank you,” Brooke says, taking a sip.

Vanessa shrugs before tucking her legs beneath her, and Brooke bends her head over the desk, a comfortable silence between them. For a minute Brooke forgets the past six months have happened, and it’s just another night–Vanessa on the couch planning makeup looks for work and small cons to do while Brooke goes over recital plans for the dance studio, sliding a plate of cookies back and forth. She forces herself to forget it.

“You wanna check this before I leave?” Vanessa asks an hour later.

Brooke takes the notebook Vanessa hands her, feeling like she’s holding a piece of Vanessa. She checks the detailed run-through Vanessa sketched out and feels that familiar tug in her heart over reading Vanessa’s handwriting, at seeing her ideas in her own words. “Looks good.”

Vanessa just nods.

Brooke grabs her stuff and they head out together, both awkwardly looking straight ahead. It’s not until they hit the street that Brooke realizes they’re stuck, since she lives 10 blocks from the warehouse, and Vanessa is 15 blocks from her.

Vanessa keeps staring at the ground while she walks, fists clenched tight. Brooke can’t imagine what six months in prison must have been like, the guilt settling in her stomach like bricks. She wants to hold Vanessa close, shield her from whatever’s in her mind, like Vanessa did for her countless times. She wants to give back some of the love and protection Vanessa exuded every day.

“Hey, breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth.” Brooke has to try to help even if it’s not her place. “It’ll work. Believe me, I’ve been there.” She remembers rough nights before taking the stage, feeling like her shaky knees would drop her on her face. Each slow breath made her lungs burn, resisting the air she needed before finally accepting it.

Vanessa doesn’t say anything, but her breaths come slower as they take each block, until they arrive at Brooke’s apartment.

“You got rid of the old place,” Vanessa says. They’re the first words she’s said on the walk, and it might be Brooke’s imagination, but they seem tinged with sadness.

It makes Brooke sad too, that she had to sell the home they made together, with the bright couch pillows and fuzzy blankets and the breathless nights in bed turning into relaxed mornings as they sipped coffee together before work. Their home, the place Brooke’s body longed for after a rough day at work, where Vanessa’s dog would leap on her legs and Vanessa would greet her with a kiss.

“Yeah.” The outside of the building looks worse than the inside, with its peeling paint and cracked bricks. She’s done the best she can with the inside, laying a small rug over the weird stains on the living room floor, hanging cheery yellow curtains in the kitchen. But it’s still not what she dreamt of, what they dreamt while cuddling at night. “Couldn’t afford it anymore after…” After I ruined what we had to protect someone I never told you about, Brooke thinks.

“Well, it’s your own fault you had to pay the rent alone.”

“I know. But Vanessa–”

“You always were a coward. Too afraid to do the stuff that coulda got you out of this,” Vanessa says, gesturing at the decrepit building, and something in Brooke snaps.

“Yeah, well you were always reckless!” Brooke shoots back. “You ran into stuff just to do it! You know the times you would’ve been caught without me?”

“I don’t need you!” Vanessa yells. “I was fine before I got involved with you, never got caught once!” She pauses, her shoulders heaving as she pants out her anger. Her eyes light up with a sudden idea. “I bet I won’t get caught now. That guy over there”–she points to a man at a bus stop across the street– “I’m gonna get him. You just watch and learn.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Brooke says. Her anger is fading and her reason is returning, and this is definitely too dangerous. It’s dark out, they haven’t prepared, and something about the man makes her arms break out in goosebumps.

“I don’t care what you think, do I?”

“Vanessa–”

“I’m doing it. You can’t stop me.”

“Fine.” Some part of her wants to see Vanessa fail, wants her to learn a lesson. Vanessa crosses the street, and from the way the man starts pointing, Brooke assumes she’s doing a distract-and-grab. Her hand works toward his pocket and he jumps back, eyes locking on Vanessa.

Brooke watches in horror, fear bolting through her heart, as the man grabs Vanessa’s arm, and before she knows it, she’s across the street, wrenching Vanessa from his grip and putting herself in between them.

“Leave her alone,” Brooke says evenly. “She didn’t take anything, just go.”

The man stares at her hungrily, and Brooke’s heart pounds, mind racing with all the ways this could go wrong. He could have a weapon, he could call the cops…she should run but her feet are stuck to the sidewalk. She shifts her body to block Vanessa from his view, ready to protect her, because she never wanted anything to hurt Vanessa, and the feeling is still present.

He shoves Brooke with a grunt, and she’s usually sturdy on her feet but she’s too worried about Vanessa to steel herself, and she stumbles down to the pavement, hands scraping across concrete to break her fall. He runs off, and Brooke rises unsteadily, wincing as her hands sting. She hisses in pain at the red oozing across her shredded palms.

“What the hell did you have to play the hero for?” Vanessa stomps her foot, buzzing with anger, and maybe Brooke can’t fix what happened, can’t even soften the edges.

“I thought I was the villain,” Brooke says through clenched teeth. This is the last thing she needs to do. She needs to stay on Vanessa’s good side to get that money, but she can’t stop herself from giving into the anger, the sheer rage she’s been carrying the past six months, after her future was stolen.

“I had him! I had him, and you ruined it–”

“He could’ve really hurt you!” Brooke says, images of Vanessa bleeding, hurt and in pain, still flashing through her mind. “And you didn’t have anything, he was totally on to you!”

Brooke knows insulting Vanessa’s skills is one of the worst things she can do, and the defeated look that crosses her face makes Brooke want to take it back. Vanessa huffs in frustration, spinning around on the sidewalk. “Go, Brooke. Just go. I don’t want you in on this plan anymore.”

Brooke’s blood runs cold, tears pricking at her eyes. She needs that money, she needs it so badly, it’s the only way to pay for a lawyer and win against her ex-husband—

“Please. Vanessa, please, I’m sorry–”

“Just go.”

Vanessa heads down the street, already too far for Brooke to chase, and Brooke’s last hope goes with her.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #nina west #akeria davenport #silky nutmeg ganache #yvie oddly #scarlet envy #branjie #lesbian au #oceans 8 au #mateos 8 #athena2 #s11 #concrit welcome #submission

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