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wormstacheangel · 3 years

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reminder I am watching The Nanny and I can't help but write scenes as destiel. So here is my second one. I think this one is a bit more sitcom, especially towards the end :) This is for episode 1x11.

wc: 1.7k

The kids have been having a hard time with the one night they don’t have Dean to tuck them in. Whatever Cas did, the kids would correct him and tell him Dean did it this way or did it that way. He simply couldn’t get it right. Even Claire was missing Dean, showing her fear of losing the one person who finally got her to be less angry at the world.

After finally getting the kids to bed, Cas walks into the kitchen to find Balthazar lounging around in his robe with a drink in one hand and scrolling through movie reviews with the other. Cas stands over his shoulder, trying to read it, but his eyes gaze over, not caring enough but still, he sighs.

“Would you like a drink, sir?” Balthazar sounded exasperated with him already, even if he has only been in the room for less than a minute.

“Please.” Cas fetches a cup and holds it out for Balthazar to pour some whiskey into it. He has been feeling restless all night but can’t pinpoint the reason why. “You know, Mr. Winchester would have loved talking about horrible movies with you.”

“Yes. I know.”

“I wonder how he is.”

“I’m sure he is enjoying his date, sir.” Balthazar takes a sip of his drink as he keeps his eyes on the screen in front of him.

Cas walks over to stand by the kitchen island. He already undid his tie, undid his top four buttons, and he can’t imagine how his hair looked after pacing the living room for a good 20 minutes.

He swirled his drink before downing the whole thing in one gulp.

“Or he can be having a miserable time, sir. The man was a mortician, after all. I don’t think that would fit Mr. Winchester’s happy-go-lucky attitude very well.”

Cas perks up at that, feeling his chest warm-up — probably because of the drink actually— as he stands up straighter with a hopeful grin. “You think so?”

“Have I ever wronged you, sir?”

“You’re right, Balthazar! He would never like that-that depressing man.” Cas smile grows. “Cause you know, the kids, they would miss him very much if he left.”

Balthazar shuts his laptop as he rolls his eyes, “For god’s sake, sir! It’s only the first-!” He looks at Cas’s stunned expression before slowly falling back in his chair, a cheeky smile on his face. “I mean, with all due respect, sir.”

“Yes.” Cas sighs, ignoring the outburst. “I think you’re right. I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I?”

“Maybe a tad bit, sir.”

A chuckle came out of his mouth as Cas opens the trash can and plucks out the bag to throw it outside. He walks towards the back door as he says, “I didn’t see anything between them anyways. I’m sure it’ll be fine!”

Cas pulls the back door open only to find Dean and his date making out. Leaving Cas standing there stunned and fumbling, not knowing if he should break them apart or close the door.

“I don’t see anything between them either, sir.” Balthazar joked as they both watched Dean press closer to his date. Unaware of their audience. Balthazar was the one to finally close the door, taking the bag of trash away from Cas, as he leads him towards the stairs. “I believe it’s time for you to go to bed, Mr. Novak.”

“Yes. Yes. You’re probably right.” Cas shook his head, hoping to erase that image away like an etch a sketch, but he still saw Dean’s mouth being sucked on. “Goodnight.”

“Night, sir.”

(More Under The Cut)

In the morning, Cas somehow convinced himself—Balthazar was only half-listening to his words anyways— to talk to Dean about the rules of the house. It had to be done. He didn’t want Dean to bring home strange people to his home, where his children lived. He didn’t want to see—or better yet— he didn’t want his kids to see Dean bring people into his room.

What kind of example will that present to them? Not a very good one.

He knocks at the door and quickly gets an answer to come in; Dean never hesitates to have any of the kids in his room. Cas would usually find them all curled up in Dean’s bed watching cartoons on a Sunday morning.

“Good morning, Mr. Winchester.” Cas poked his head into the room first, and that enough stopped him short. Dean looked like he was getting ready to go out.

Dean is dressed in a comfortable-looking robe, no shirt, and he’s assuming no pants by the fact that he can see a peek of his thighs from the slit in the front.

“Morning, Mr. Novak. What can I do for you?” Dean turned back to the mirror, a small smile stretched across his lips as he continued to fix his hair.

“I just wanted to talk about your um—You know we have rules in this house, and I just wanted to make sure you know them.”

“Oh, I think you have me confused with Claire. She’s two doors down.” Dean teased.

“No. No, this is about your date. About you having dates. And-And having…dates.” Cas sighed the last word, unable to get the word he wants out without his whole body warming up. “Anyways,” He cleared his throat. “The rules of the house with me-”

“Oh, with you? Gosh, maybe I should have read the fine print better.” Dean teased, winking at him through his reflection as he ran his hands through his growing hair.

“No. Not like that!”

“Let me get this straight.” Dean turns to face Cas before practically strutting over to Cas, half-dressed in a semi-open robe. Cas eyes struggle not to travel on the man before him. “We are talking about having sex in my room.”

“Well, not-not us. Not we.” Cas nervous gestures between them, noticing his hand hit Dean’s bare chest in the process because they were standing so damn close.

“We already covered that.” Dean winks at him again, making Cas’s heart race. “Don’t worry, Mr. Novak, I won’t do anything to show a bad example for the children.”

“Good.” Cas stuffs his hands in his pockets as he rocks on his heels. “Yes. Good. Okay!”

“Okay.” Dean turns back to the mirror.

“Where are you going anyways?” That sounded way too demanding. “If I may ask?”

“Well, if you must know. I got another date. We’re meeting for lunch.”

“Again?”

“Yeah. Well, I gotta eat.”

“Of course. Well, have fun, Mr. Winchester.”

“Thank you, Mr. Novak. Nice chat.”

Cas makes his way out of the room, bumping on furniture as he went.

Cas walks into the kitchen that same afternoon to find Dean sitting on the kitchen counter, shoveling ice cream into his mouth. Cas quickly rushes over to take the spoon away from him.

“Mr. Winchester! You are lactose intolerant!”

“Well, I deserve a little bit of ice cream after the crap day I had, and the coconut milk one you got me is still frozen solid!”

“Oh,” Cas puts the ice cream away before walking back to him. “Date didn’t go so well this time? Was it the whole creepy mortician life?”

“No,” Dean sighs, watching as Cas runs the Dean-friendly fudge brownie ice cream under some hot water. “Weirdly enough, I was getting used to the idea.”

“Then, what was wrong with him?” Cas hands Dean a spoon, and they both dig into the still hard ice cream, but they can still scape a few bits off. Cas tried not to follow the way Dean’s tongue pokes out and licks at the spoon.

“He was a clown.” Dean sighs, spinning the spoon in his hand before aggressively digging at the pint of ice cream.

“In what way?”

“In a clown way.”

“What-?”

“Red nose! Big shoes! You want me to google it for you?” Cas looks stunned by the outburst. But it clicks; he means an actual fucken clown. He tried not to laugh as Dean let out a defeated sigh. “Sorry. I just thought…I just thought I finally found someone. You know? I’m 30. I should have found someone already.”

“I’m sorry, Dean. But I’m sure you will. You’ll find someone special who won’t honk their nose at you.” Cas bops Dean’s nose, it’s awkward, but Dean still chuckles when he pushes Cas’s hand away.

The atmosphere around them was warm and comforting, something he wishes to drown in. But in a respectable boss-and-employee-who-lives-with-him kind of way. The smile they share fades a little as they look away, and then Dean jumps off the counter with a yawn.

“I’m gonna head to bed now. Goodnight, Mr. Novak.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Winchester.”

And just like that, they are back to professionals.

The following day, Dean is in the room talking to Sam about his dating life.

“You just think the perfect person is gonna knock at your door yelling out ‘there you are! I found you!’”

“Oh, there you are.” Cas walks in, neither Sam nor Dean notices the coincidence, holding out two different ties. “What tie should I wear? Blue or yellow?”

“Blue. Goes great with your eyes.” Dean turns around to tie the tie nicely around Cas’s neck. Sam gave them no attention as it was an action that happens regularly.

When he was done, he fixes Cas’s collar and pats his shoulder before telling him he looks good.

“Thank you, Mr. Winchester.”

Cas walks out of the room while Dean continues to get ready as he talks. “I just want a person who actually respects and values my opinions, not just my pretty face.”

“Ah, sorry to bother you again, Mr. Winchester,” Cas walks back in. “but I do value your opinion. Should I wear the gold cufflinks or the silver?”

“Gold is a classic. But make sure it’s those nice ones Claire picked out for you. She’ll love to see them.”

“Oh, yes. Thank you! That would be great.” Cas walks out of the room with a grateful smile.

Sam is still flipping through Dean’s magazine collection as he sighs, “Yeah, Dean, that’s never going to happen. You should have just dated the damn clown,”

“And what? Never see you again cause you’ll be scared my boyfriend is in full makeup? No, thank you. Now let’s go before we’re late to the damn game.”

#nannynatural #thenannynatural #i am insane for doing this but here i am #i hope you didnt think it was gonna be all angsty lol #the nanny is a famous slow burn sooooo #destiel #deancas #destiel au #fic #destiel fic #my writing #wormstachewrites #slow burn #once upon a queue

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idjitlili · 3 years

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W-wait you kidnapped, Jareth?

Obi-wan x reader

(Not my image)

Summary: Dropped into a strange world, pretty much on to a Obi-wan's lap, only for him to take pity on you. What a pity...

Word count:6237

Warnings: Kidnapping of a non-starwars character, tight pants wearing person.../ tight pants/ references to something under tight pants. Post Padme and Anakin reuniting. Some language. Age gap.

Okay, so maybe you had been in another dimension, with no intention,with a bit of a mind flip, you're into the time slip. You don't know how it happened one minute you was sleeping, having one of those dreams when you are falling but you couldn't wake up, until you had shot awake from painful landing.

Well, the landing wasn't painful, two points of impact, under your legs and on your shoulder blades. Opening your eyes suddenly, to see a auburn haired man, his eyes bright, as they starred into yours, yes he was handsome. Some sort of cream wrap tunic, dark brown shirt underneath, hiding his chest. It was hot, very hot, how was his face no sweating, your arm now around his shoulders to prevent you from falling. No doubt your face showed shock.

"Who are you?!"

What else was you supposed to say, other than 'where am I?' It was not long at all before 'Obi- wan' the man who had caught you had taken you to some green guy called Yoda. Aliens, you would not have guessed it, well most people know there are actually aliens, there are so many galaxies. There was no earth in the place, so they had concluded it be some sort of bigger power had brought you were.

Yoda seemed nice enough, basically the Lady Galadriel of this place, insuring you that no harm would come to you. Of course, he had put the top Jedi on the job, Obi-wan, why did you have to put with the handsome ones, you'd end up red faced even if he looked at you. If he wasn't a nice person then he would've just dropped you.

In the short time you had been in this place, you had wondered why you had fallen in this place in your shoes. However, that is irrelevant, you had learnt about Jedi and siths, typical good guys versus bad boys. Not bad boys...not yet, of course I'm thinking about Din Djarin,well he's not evil.

Yoda did have a lot to say, except oh yes just so you know you've just been dumped into a foreign universe and now you are going on a space ship. You had been given a bag, with sets of clothing for you as well as some other supplies. Obi-wan being himself, not that you knew his regular behaviour, took your bag, when you were both walking towards the ship. Not that it was in view not yet.

"W-wait, so we are going into space?" Your voice laced with panic, as you speed walked next to Obi-wan to keep up. He had let out a deep chuckle.

"Where else would we go, little one?"

"Uhm, literally anywhere else, do I not get food before we leave? I just got here! I'm starving."

The ship, now in view, was it floating? Was it just on a platform? Nope it was floating, did you just the force to do that, like an elevator? Looking at the Jedi, grinning as you both got closer and closer to the ship.

"It's not that bad, I won't let anything happen to you, nothing will if I am the one steering it anyways..." Obi-wan whispering last bit, but you still heard him, brows scrunching toward, who else would be piloting the ship? You? Never. That when you saw him, stood on ramp of the ship, assuming he was waiting for you and Obi-wan. His hair short, light brown and spiked. Was that a rat tail? Oh gosh. He was cute, but you could tell he was trouble.

"Oooh, Master, I thought you said no attachments." Obi-wan had scoffed at the boy, as you both got dangerously close, the boy looked at you with a smirk, his cheeks bunching up like a clown. That he was indeed.

"This is Anakin, Anakin, Y/n, she will be coming with us," Obi-wan looked at Anakin who still was looking at you, only at his master briefly. When he did Obi-wan's face could only be described as that face off Zoolander, Blue steel. Why was he pursing his lips, was he expecting a peck or was that just his stern face?

Of course when you held your hand out to shake his, he had took your hand in his pressing his lips to your knuckles. You looked at Obi-wan wide eyes, was this legal? Was Anakin even an adult? Only just, but still, he was not your type.

"Anakin, that's enough, what have I told you?" Pulling Anakin from you , pushing him into the ship, Anakin turns his face to you sending a cheeky grin. Only for Obi-wan to give him another shove out the ship. Obi-wan gesturing you for you to get on before him, with a small smile. "Thank you."

You weren't sure where you were going, hell, you didn't even know what planet you had just been was, but now you say in a seat gripping it, as Obi-wan began to pilot the ship, is that what it was called? Was called something different? You weren't sure, all you knew is this was scary. If you crashed there was little chance of survival, there's no oxygen in space.

Anakin sat next to Obi-wan, both focused on the darkness in front of them. You sat on seat that you could only describe as one of those joint seats at the back of a bus, an British bus. Maybe it's the same for different countries? The chair against the wall, you had strapped your bag down in the seat next you , as well yourself.

You had completely forgotten that you were wearing a baggy t-shirt with trousers, and shoes. That night you must've been so tired that you didn't change, you don't know what happened that night. You must've looked very out of place, especially with what you had seen everyone else was wearing. Why were they all dressed as Jesus? You were surprised they were surprised they weren't wearing sandals.

"So, where are you from?" Anakin had spoken gently not taking his face from his position, had made you snap out of thoughts.

"Y/h/c." You weren't sure if he meant planet, you had just stuck with your home country. Anakin had clicked his tongue, thinking, before he could say anymore Obi-wan had stopped him.

"She's not from this galaxy, Anakin." Obi-wan spoke like Anakin was supposed to know that, well you was wearing a shirt that literally had Keanu reeves face on it.

"Well then, how did you get here?"

"I was sleeping in my bed, and then I was falling somehow, whoa Obi-wan happened to be standing below me, and caught me, the end." Anakin had let out a loud snort turning to his master.

"No attachments, well, Master, if I didn't know better, I would say this was the beginning of something that was meant to be." You swear you saw Anakin raise his eyebrows at Obi-wan, though you couldn't see properly from sitting behind.

"Keep your forked tongue behind you teeth." Why did that sound so familiar... Obi-wan was harsh to his Padawan, he didn't seem to be repulsed by you, maybe he felt uncomfortable by the tone of Anakins voice. W-wait did he just quote Gandalf?

After that everything was silent, for a while anyways, Obi-wan soon told you to go to the bathroom thing in the ship, you had already forgotten what he called it. Informing you that you should change into a set of clothes you were given; so that you would not stick out.

Clothing choice was good considering; you didn't know where you were going but you were glad you were given trousers for walking. Especially what you had been heard, you did not fancy being killed because you had tripped on the dress you were wearing.

The only reason they had took you to this planet was for them to negotiate with someone, you could swear you saw one of them talking to someone on a hologram, why didn't they just do that. When you did arrive, you had to walk far into town. Security reasons, but the ship stood out more on it's own.

You were definitely not expecting to end up in pub, where else would they find a bad guy. It wasn't high tech like you had thought, it was a tavern, old fashioned. For a hot climate the bar was quite cool.

Strange that Obi-wan had made you sat at a table alone, there was a open space, you assumed for dancing, sat at a booth, you had perfect view to the little stage. Though there was no one there. Obi-wan and Anakin had went searching in the bar for the man or woman , or them, you weren't sure. You didn't understand how it was safer for you to be alone.

Twiddling your thumbs bored, the chat of bar was considerably low, it had already began to get dark. Soon enough the pub would be packed. You hadn't seen the man make his way on stage, standing in front of a microphone, while a couple of other people set up behind him. He did not look the band sort, but those other men were there to play the instruments, since there was only one mic.

It was only when the music began to play did you look up, a skinny man, stood at the microphone, his eyes the brightest blue, though his left pupil bigger than the right. His eyebrows had no ends, eyeshadow flicked up into an wing , the end facing his hairline, his cheekbones clearly highlighted. His hair huge , blond, long as well as being a mullet.

His shirt crisp white,with a leather brown vest, his sleeves puffy. The vest only went above his hip bones, beneath that was some very tight pants. They were almost leggings, the grey clearly presented his package. The boots what a slight heel on them reaching up his calves.

This man was clearly handsome, but he reminded you so much of Bowie, you couldn't help but feel drawn to him.

"There's such a sad love

Deep in your eyes a kind of pale jewel

Open and closed

Within your eyes

I'll place the sky

Within your eyes."

His gloved hands on the microphone, as your eyes were glued to him, his eyes gliding over the bar before meeting yours. His eyes eyes latching onto y/c ones, a grin spread across his face, showing his slightly croaked teeth. You quickly looked around making sure he was looking at you, glancing at Obi-wan and Anakin who were busy arguing.

"There's such a fooled heart

Beatin' so fast

In search of new dreams

A love that will last

Within your heart

I'll place the moon"

As your eyes went back to the man, his position now moved, instead of a microphone, he had a mouth piece, a few people waltzing together on the now on the empty space from earlier, but now it wasn't empty. Your heart raced as the man continued to sing, heading your way slowly, dancing with others as he did so.

"Within your heart

As the pain sweeps through

Makes no sense for you

Every thrill is gone

Wasn't too much fun at all"

You don't what possessed you to stand up, but you did. Your feet pulling you towards the dance floor, a smirk upon the mans face as he saw you approaching him, you had blinked and with that he had disappeared. Your eyes searching the crowd, he was still singing.

"But I'll be there for you-ou-ou

As the world falls down

Falling

As the world falls down

Falling

Falling in love."

You were feeling embarrassed when you could not find the man, especially being on the dance floor alone. You had almost had a heart attack when someone had placed their hand on your arm. Turning around you were face to face to the grinning man, offering you his hand. Your hand in his gloved one, the other on his shoulder, his on your waist.

"I'll paint you mornings of gold

I'll spin you Valentine evenings though we're strangers 'til now

We're choosing the path

Between the stars"

Smiling up at the man, you felt like nothing else matter, as you waltzed with him, your movements so smooth that his hair didn't even know. Maybe he wore a lot of hairspray. Your eyes never leaving his, you couldn't remember knowing how to waltz.

"I'll leave my love

Between the stars

As the pain sweeps through

Makes no sense for you

Every thrill is gone

Wasn't too much fun at all

But I'll be there for you-ou-ou

As the world falls down

Falling-"

What you did not notice was the two Jedi's calling your name, as they searched for you, only for Obi-wan to lock eyes onto you, getting Anakins attention, as he sighed. One rumb of the moustache and both of them started heading your way.

Jareth at eyes finally left yours, he had stopped singing, he had not let you go though.

"What are you doing, Y/n?" You had instantly unlaced your hand from the man, turning to face Obi-wan's disapproving glare, Anakin sniffled under his hand, glad he wasn't getting in trouble...again.

"Dancing?" You had even had a second to react when Anakin had stroked his moustache again, and the man was cuffed. Pulling you gently by the arm, you all made your way out of the bar, no doubt that was embarrassing. You had accidentally gotten the guy captured because you danced with him. Then again, Obi-wan would've spotted him singing as well, so maybe it wasn't your fault. Little nervous to why they wanted him, hopefully not for murder.

Once you did make it back to the ship, Anakin was to fly the ship, while the strange man sat next to your bag, and you next to Obi-wan across from him.

"I don't understand, I'll did was dance with him, he didn't try to kill me, so what's the problem?" Obi-wan scoffed, staring at the man, not turning to even look at you.

"The problem is that he kidnaps children."

"No, I take the unwanted ones, those that are wished away." That sounded familiar, the hair, the pants, the David Bowie everything, it was clear who this man was.

"Ben, you can't speak him like that, do you not know who you have captured? He's Jareth, the goblin king!" Jareth had just smirked at Obi-wan, quite frankly the outburst had made Obi-wan jump. No one called him Ben.

"W-well, I've heard stories of The Labyrinth."

"I'm sorry, how did I not see it before, the hair, the music, the very tight pants , the-"

"Why were you looking at his trousers?" Obi-wan now had turned to face you, his eyes eyes searching your face for answer, his voice stern, your face blushed. You really needed to stop talking about pants all the time.

"Do you want her to look at yours instead,Master?" Obi -wan had choked his bearded face reddening. His eyes now off your face.

"Oh, I've already looked, what about some tighter pants , I must say you have lovely arse though." Placing a hand on Obi-wan's lower thigh, if his face was red before it was now, he couldn't look at you. A gentle squeeze of his thigh, and he had to excuse himself.

Once Obi-wan was out of ear range, the three of you laughed, though Anakin hadn't seen nor knew what tipped Obi-wan over the edge. However, Jareth had smirked at you, he knew very well what you had done. You had barely had known Obi-wan for four days, and he already felt like he was breaking the rules.

It was very clear why Obi-wan actually left the room, his trouser were now tight on him.

"So, love.." You were surprised, obi-wan had taken the cuffs off Jareth in the ship and left him with you. One of his legs , thrown over the end on table, as if it was an arm of a chair.

"Stop that." Anakin's voice stopped Jareth saying anymore.

Before you knew it, you had been talking to to Jareth the whole journey back, Obi-wan had came back shortly after; sitting next to Anakin.

It was not like you had anything better to do other than speaking to the fae, Obi-wan just criticising Anakin. 'He's overly critical.' What do you want Anakin, a kiss on your cheek, oh sweetie you are doing absolutely amazing at killing the guys on our side.

Stepping out of the ship, Jareth now singing another song, like he was in a movie or something. You had caught eyes with about her man in robes, another Jedi. Hold on, that couldn't be Samuel L Jackson?

"Hey, Jareth?"

"Yes, love."

"Can't you just magic yourself out of this situation back to the your castle?" Jareth's hands weren't cuffed still, he had turned his face towards you with a grin, looking back at him, you felt bad he was only helping he wasn't killing people or anything. He was a lovely guy.

"Yes, I can, I was just waiting for a kiss goodbye." Pointing to his cheek, your pinks slightly pink as your pressed a kiss to his soft skin. With that you had pulled away, one last smile, he had turned dramatically, spinning his cape with him, glitter flying everywhere. Off flew a a light brown owl. He was gone.

"Mother fucker." Your lips turned up slightly trying to prevent a grin, as you turned back to the Jedi's that did not look impressed. Well, Anakin he did not care he just smiled, knowing you were probably were going to get in trouble. You literally didn't even do anything, all you did was kiss the mans cheek.

"What did you do?" Obi-wan eyes on you , his words like a sharpened butter knife, you could say unnatural...even supernatural. This hands on his hips, pushing his robes back.

"W-what? Me? I told you he was bloody magic ;but no, you didn't listen."

"Control yourself, now come, Master Yoda requests all of you." Did he just tell Obi-wan to calm himself , he just called Jareth a motherfucker.

The meeting with Yoda, Windu and the three of you, wasn't with the Jedi republic. According to Yoda, this matter wasn't of importance, he didn't expect You'd been able to hold Jareth for very long. Master Windu, didn't give no shits, he was disappointed.

It wasn't like he killed a bunch of kids, not like Anakin was going to. Not just the men, but the woman and the children too. Jareth basically had loads of Goblin children living their best life's in the goblin city, that wasn't threatening. So, the Goblin king got away, why don't you go kill bloody Palpatine.

The next few weeks were not as eventful, stuck in your room bored, it was awkward to go out you didn't know anyone. Especially not Obi-wan you were pretty sure he hated you at the moment. You did not want to have to get involved with him and Anakin training. Exercise...no thanks.

You really did feel bad for how you acted towards Obi-wan, he was a Jedi you couldn't touch him like that. So, when he turned up at your room in the evening, with your dinner, it was surprising. Normally you'd get brought to dinner by one of the younglings.

Obi-wan stood in front of you with a small smile as he held the tray. The tray with two plates of dinner.

"O-oh, hi," pulling the door open with the door handle allowing Obi-wan into your room, before shutting it behind him.

"I thought maybe you wanted someone to eat with you," He did not expand further. Obi-wan was a kind man, he took a pact basically to have no family no nothing, just to protect the galaxy. With a high chance of death, he was a noble man, you couldn't think of anyone you knew from back home that would do that. You should not have gave him a boner.

Placing the tray on the table within your room, but instead of sitting down, he had lifted the whole table towards the balcony. Obi-wan has , went to Yoda before coming to your room, stating this was strictly professional nothing more. Yoda had just laughed. "Dine with her , you will."

Seeing what Obi-wan was doing, you had grabbed a chair too, onto the the stone of the balcony. The view of the planet, Coruscant was not the best, but it was better than looking at a wall. Ten again you'd be eating in a moment so you wouldn't have to look at either. Fresh are was good though.

Sitting down at the round table with Obi-wan was weird, you really felt guilty for your behaviour it was eating you up, whilst you both ate your dinners up. Looking up to Obi-wan, his eyes fixed to his plate as he struggle to cut a potato, his golden hair tucked behind his eyes. Orange light from the setting sun shined into his hair, as well as his cheeks, his eyes glistening.

"The way I acted on the ship, was completely inappropriate, I am so sorry, there is no excuse for my behaviour. I admit I'm glad you are here now. I don't expect you to forgive me."

Obi-wan's eyes now looking back into yours, his eyebrows frowning together slightly, his knife and fork on his plate, as he lent back in the chair. Rubbing your sweaty hands along your trousers roughly, a small laugh let his lips.

"I must have missed something, you complimented my behind and squeezed my knee. That's hardly anything to apologise for, if anything I would've expected an apology for not listening to my orders." That guilt did seem to fade away, mostly. Your cheeks reddening, as Oni-wan continued to look at you.

"I'm sorry for not following your orders, especially when in a pub on a strange planet."

Smiling at each for a moment before going back to your dinners before they got cold. Not speaking fully until you had both finished eating.

This became a daily occurrence for weeks, then months. You were still not returned home, you were stuck. You didn't feel alone not like you did when you first arrived. You did miss home very much, but nothing could be done about that.

Sometimes, sorry, every time Obi-wan went out of Coruscant you went with. Even if it was dangerous, either you'd stay in the ship or simply go wherever with him. It wasn't hard to see how close you had gotten to Obi-wan, the Jedi council did not like it one bit, not that you knew that. Obi-wan had insisted that he had been assigned to protecting you and that was what he was doing. Not that was far from the truth.

No attachments, Kenobi? Okay.

What makes matters worse you had no currency, it wasn't hard to guess who would supply you with clothing's such. Obi-wan would take you to the market to buy you anything you needed. In return, well, there wasn't much you could do, certainly wasn't safe for you to go off on your own, especially not being from this universe. So, you just kept him company.

Anakin being Obi-wan's padawan he came along too, not to the market but on missions, but that was obvious. You had felt like a burden , you really did, being reassured you weren't, Obi-wan had given you a role. A purpose. You were their healer.

Not Obi-wan purposely getting small injuries, he'd argue wit himself and sometimes Anakin, that it wasn't on purpose and if it was it was only to make you feel like you part of their team. Not that Obi-wan longed for the soft touches of your skin on his.

However, he was not expecting you to get hurt, no he would not have, he had sworn to protect you and he had failed. You had arrived on this strange planet for 'negotiations' for this clan to basically team up with the republic, but Darth Maul had gotten there first. Of course, you had been kidnapped, since Obi-wan told you to stay in the ship.

Darth held you off the floor by the back of your neck, holding the lightsaber out ready to kill you, not really just leverage. Obi-wan and Anakin in front, they really had no plan. Well, Darth Maul almost stabbed you, but you had the higher air and took a blade from your pocket and stabbed yourself. Blood pouring out of your Abdomen, as your eyes watered, your throat blocked up.

Dropping you to the floor, Darth Maul had laughed. "Oh, I like her." Obi-wan did not like that at all, seeing you face down on the cold floor him an Anakin activated their lightsabers.I could describe the whole fight sequence, but you already know Darth Maul wiggled himself out of that situation back to the Sith, not surprising, you wouldn't remember anyways, you had passed out.

The clan now on the republics side, only because the Jedi's had saved them and promised protection.

Obi-wan had carried you back to the ship with Anakin, who began to start the ship. He felt guilty to wake you up, he would rather stitch you up when you were unconscious.The thought of hurting you plagued his heart, maybe he should get Anakin to do it. No, he couldn't go through with someone else hurting you.

Grabbing the medical kit, Obi-wan had made his way back to the bed, your body still, he would've been happy if this was Anakin. The thought crossed his mind, to stab Anakin, so he'd bloody shut up. Our tunic now drenched with blood, he could clearly see the tear in your shirt. He was not going to wake you , deciding just to cut a square out of your shirt.

You wouldn't be surprised if that shirt wasn't fashion back home, you know people wearing bandanas as shirts, here's what hot now, reveal your hip and your abdomen with a square hole! Who knows, I don't know anything about fashion, except I dress like David Bowie. Shut up , no one cares.

Your face was already laced with cold beads sweat, like Obi-wan but he felt like furnace, his long hair pushed back, his lips squished together as he grabbed the anaesthesia, pulling up your sleeve carefully before injecting it quickly. Then he had gotten to work, soon enough, you was stitched up.

Only problem was, that Sith had damaged the ship, so Anakin only got the three of you so far before having to land on freezing planet. But, it gets better, Anakin being really great, and supposedly a great pilot had hit the side of a mountain. Snow had covered the ship, you were trapped by an ocean of snow.

Of course, R2 hadn't came in this trip, just luck, only thing that was working was the heating and lights, the signal had gone. No way to contact anyone, however, someone was bound to notice in a few days something had gone wrong.

This was not going to be like without a paddle, where you'd all be in your underwear and spoon. We do not shaggy here, um? Get it before Shaggy is in that movie?

Eventually, you had woken up, a little dizzy, probably would not have if Anakin wasn't having a tantrum. You didn't even question how you got back to the ship, your shoes tapped quietly against the floor , as you made your way to the cockpit. Both Obi-wan and Anakin were stood in the centre of the room, Anakin point and clenching his fists, Obi-wan just stood there.

You got a feeling that Anakin was not good at keeping his emotions in check, why was he always so emotional. Obi-wan was now sipping juice, no blue milk, yuck, Anakin still shouting.

"You're jealous, master. You're afraid I am getting too powerful, you want me to fail!" Placing his drink down, Obi-wan had caught your eyes, his face lightened into a smile from his frown. "Mum, you think I am ready to be a Jedi Master, right?" His eyes soft on the sight of you, coughing slightly, you had looked back at Obi-wan who turned to you in a swing, now amused by his Padawan.

"I'm sorry, aren't I a similar age to you?" The cold temperatures from the snow, had transferred into the ship, but Anakins cheeks still burned. He just stood looking at you unable to speak, Obi-wan had laughed patting his Padawan on the back once.

"Don't worry about it; he does it to everyone. When he was younger, it was difficult to convince him to stop calling me father. Sometimes, he still does."

"Liar, I do not. You treat me like a whore ; calling everyone my father. I do not, it was mistake!" Anakin was overwhelmed, his voice defensive and loud as he left the room, leaving you with Obi-wan, who's lips were twitched into a large smile , as he stroked his moustache.

For a few moments you both stood in silence, before you had looked down to the ache and coldness on your lower abdomen. A hole on in your shirt where you we're stabbed, now stitched up.

"Oh yes, sorry about your shirt." Your finger tips tracing the fabric, then touching the wound, pain shot through your body, letting out a welp. Obi-wan eyes had widened, stepping close to inspect the wound again, why would you poke it?

"It's just a shirt, it's not like you don't buy them all anyways, thank you for that again, also thank you for stitching me up , that was you?" Your voice quiet, under his gaze, a deep chuckle had left his mouth.

"Yes, I did, I hardly trust Anakin's flying, how are you feeling? That was very well done back there, but I do recommend you don't do it again." You had scoffed, letting out a short laugh after, Obi-wan looked at you rising his eyebrows, to warning you.

“Oh, yes, I plan on stabbing myself again, who do you think I am? Loki? Okay, maybe I’ll fake my death for attention too.” Obi-wan’s hands gently placed on your shoulders, squeezing lightly , as he looked into your eyes. His blue orbs intensely on yours, his hair neatly tucked back.

“I wouldn’t allow that, from now on you don’t stay in the ship alone, If something happens to you I’d never forgive myself, and I believe that you were sent here for a reason. Not to die.” His hands had left you , smiling at you once more, before leaving the cockpit.

Not only after that you had retired to your bed, in clothes without holes, your now many blankets covered you. Thanks to Obi-wan again, since you all spent so much time on the ship, it was necessary for situations like this. Of course, as long as the ship wasn’t blown up again.

Though the heating was working, it didn’t stop the cold from the outside. Curled up so tight in your blankets, trying to retain heat, you could not get comfortable to sleep. The cold nipping at your feet and cheeks, your nose was probably red too.

Only an hour or two from when you first got into bed, sighing , all your blankets wrapped around you, stepping out of bed. Quietly, making your way around the ship, just to tire yourself out, or to make yourself really cold. So, when you would get back into bed you’d be like ‘oooh warm’ and fall asleep.

You had meant to wake in on Obi-wan sat in his chair in the cockpit, wrapped up in his robes, seemingly fast asleep. His arms crossed, his auburn hair covering his face , neck cranked forward. He was going to have a sore neck in the morning.

Turning on your feet, slowing walking out of the room, pulling your blankets tighter. A sigh had left Obi-wan’s mouth, not loud but you heard it. Your movement now softened, you continued with tiny steps.

“I know you are there, Y/n, come back.” No doubt you almost peed yourself, hearing Obi-wand raspy voice, he had been a sleep, you felt horrible. Walking back from the door way, Obi-wan had turned to chair to look at you.

“I didn’t mean to wake, I didn’t know you was even in here.” Obi-wan opened his mouth yawning loudly, before looking back at you, snorting a laugh, at your choice of clothes.

“What are doing up?” Shifting on your feet, covered with socks, the icy floor numbing them.

“Can’t sleep, aren’t you cold?” You wondered if Anakin was having trouble sleeping too, he must’ve been fine, since he left Obi-wan in here. Obi-wan probably never meant to fall asleep, waiting for anyone to contact. Shaking his head, he had opening his arms up gesturing you over.

“Come here, darling.” Not sure on what he was going to do, yet you still walked towards him, you trusted him. You were glad if you were stuck you was stuck with the Jedi. Pressing his palm around your clenched hand that held tightly onto your blanket. His hands were really warm, like had them between his thighs. His lips moulded into a circle shape, inhaling sharply.

“Oh, I should’ve brought you more blankets.” His hand still on yours, looking up at you, a small smile on your face, your teeth felt like ice cubes, a few moments went by, you weren’t sure what he was waiting for or what you were waiting for.

“ Do you think I could stay here...with you?” Your cheeks now felt hot, the words barely a whisper, you shouldn’t have asked, it’s completely inappropriate. “I-I can go back to bed-“

“Nonsense.” Obi-wan had pulling you into his lap, okay, so maybe you thought he would’ve been like yeah and you would’ve sat in the chair next to him. You head resting against his chest, his stubble tickling upon your head. Obi-wan’s arms wrapped around you tightly, sealing the blankets. Yours around his waist, feet tucked up on the chair, as well. Obi-wan warmth surrounded you with his scent, the soft touch of his lips against your temple.

“Am I allowed to love you, Ben?” Your eyes fluttered closed, your voice barely above a whisper, Obi-wan’s heart hitched into his throat. He flirted too often and he knew it, and he knew that his feelings weren’t platonic either, he wouldn’t have spent dinner every night alone with just anybody.

“No, I suppose you’re not.” What would the council feel about this, he wished he could blame Yoda for making him guardian over you and that first dinner with you.

“If you aren’t supposed to have attachments, then what am I? You promised Master Yoda to protect me, isn’t that an attachment. Would anyone be able to tell? You have to be with me pretty sure all day anyways.”

Your words made him ponder for a moment, he knew you were right, you had already acting like you were together for a long time, not directly in front of council though. It was clear Anakin saw it too, he wouldn’t have called you mum, that was weird though. Maybe he has a kink think because he hasn’t seen his mum since he was 9.

Obi-wan looked over you all the time, brought you everything you needed, ate dinner with you, kept you warm, stitched you up, protected you from strange people. There were times where you’d turn up to his room crying, or upset or missing home, he’d comfort you. Similarly to this situation, you’d end up in his bed, not like that, you in his arms stroking your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple as you fell asleep. It was not new.

“You are right, I love you.” Looking up to the Jedi, as he smiled down at you.

“You do?”

“I do.” He may not have kissed you then, but you had time, you weren’t about to let Anakin take him from you. What mattered was you were together, even being away from your home, you had another. With Ben and a ‘son’ that was older than you.

Oh , Anakin was so cheeky when he had awoken in the morning seen you against his masters chest.

“I knew it.”

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crimsonwolfie · 4 years

Text

Best Mistake — Hamish Duke x Reader (x Knights)

Requested by @mysticalcrownbear

Prompt: The Knights accidently summon you, (the reader) a succubus when trying to summon Zecchia. You have a strong liking towards Hamish Duke, and he’s very much into you too.

Word count: 2,095

Hope you guys like this!! Sorry if it’s crap - requests are open!!

Masterlist

Best Mistake Part 2

“It’s not that they have all our stuff...they stole it. So - let’s steal it all back” Jack whispers as he leans forward, straightening his posture in seriousness.

“Are you suggesting a magic heist?!” Randall says, stalking towards Jack

“Yes. A magic heist” Jack replies as he steps up from the couch. Both boys shine a ray of mischief in their eyes and madness in their energy

“MAGIC HEIST! MAGIC HEIST!” They both chant, as Hamish and Lilith begin joining in synchronisation

“MAGIC HEIST MAGIC HEIST MAGIC HEIST!” The Knights chant like toddlers demanding candy.

—

“Well you didn’t think to warn us about that?!” Lilith hissed, eyes dark with fear and damage after the images she’d experienced. Hamish, Jack and Randall all sat with Lilith in the Blade and Chalice collectively recovering from their fear corners. Lilith rocked slightly from side to side whilst Jack was holding a pack of ice on the side of his head. They were tired, scared, drained...but desperate. They couldn’t get into the vault without being stuck in the “fear corridor”. Hamish chugged a swig of his whiskey, slamming the glass down onto the table with force, trying his best to forget what he went through -

“Stupid Ricky Simarco and his stupid fifth birthday party” he groaned, eyes fixed into a trance like state

“What did you see?” Randall asked Lilith, who replies with a simple “nothing”.

“Nothing?” He asks again, confused to why she didn’t see anything

“Nothing.” She confirms, although her shaken state says otherwise.

“Okay, since we can’t get through to the vault, i found the perfect solution” Jack enthusiastically gushes. “We summon a demon! There’s loads of different types to summon and i think i found the perfect one!”

The fellow knights all look around at each other in suspicion...could this actually work? Or is Jack literally insane?

“It’s name is a Zecchia” Jack points towards a yellow dusted page in an old, crippled book “it’s a baron demon, meaning it steals anything that the summoner desires it to”

“Won’t we have to do something for it? You know, a catch?” Lilith questions, her big brown eyes looking up to Jack

“No! You see that’s the beauty of it. We call it, they show up, we pay the toll and they’ll do our bidding!” He replies almost as if it was complete rocket science. “You just gotta follow the protocol perfectly”

“I’m in-“

“-Me too!” Hamish and Lilith both declare with their whole chests, meanwhile Randall starts struggling with the decision...

“Nope.” He announces. “No thanks. No way. Nope. Not a demon. Not ever.” Adamant as ever, he puts his hand on the table as a way to stand against the debate. He gets up and walks away before the others can stop him.

“We’re still doing this.”

“Yeah totally”

“He’ll get over it”

Hamish, Lilith and Jack all stand around the summoning circle, ready to summon Zecchia, the thief demon.

“Zecchia, appear before us so that we may negotiate the fee for your service to empty the vault of the Hermetic Order of the Blue Rose and remand those goods into the possession of the Knights of Saint Christopher” they all chant in synchronisation. Below their feet is a demon trap, purposed to trap the summoned demon in order to negotiate wisely. As soon as they finish the chant, a sound of wind brushes past them...but shorty followed by silence.

“Zecchiaaa?” Jack quietly echos into the distance of the house, uncertain if the summoning ritual worked or not. The 3/4 knights walk around the hallway wondering where they went wrong.

“Maybe we messed up the incantation?” says Lilith

“We did everything right?” Hamish replies

Suddenly, the door bursts open as Randall rushes in, slightly out of breath

“- guys STOP don’t do this-” He shouts as he blows out the candles nearest to him on the floor “-Alyssa and i were discussing demon summonings and-“

“-and you suck at it” you pipe up.

Emerging from the shadows of the staircase, you quietly and elegantly walk down, eyes never leaving the people below you...but one in specific - the man dressed in the waistcoat. You’re wearing a red, laced spaghetti strap bodysuit that’s tucked under a pair of tight fitted sheer black leggings (clearly i’m not going to have you wear only underwear and a bra like every other succubus - *que that not on MY WATCH vine* we are more PG here y’all - also may i add, your body size does not matter here. All body types are beautiful and you should love your body, don’t fall for these skinny stereotypes! Curvy girls are breathtaking too!!! <3 okay back to the story lmao). With midnight black wings as beautiful as can be and horns impeccable in sight, you stare with your big Y/E/C eyes as your long Y/H/C, silky locks fall past your shoulders. The sound of your black stiletto heels click and clack on the wooden floorboards, as further silence echos in the walls. The Knights are struck by your beauty, chocked for words at what they’re seeing in front of them. You swiftly bring your wings to your side, stroking your arms as you approach the people below you.

“You’re not what...we...expected” Randall slurs- i mean drools ;)

“That’s because i’m not” you sigh, bringing your arms across your body. “You summoned me, a succubus. Not Zecchia. But hey, you’re not the first...you’re meant to use alcohol as a summoning ingredient. She’s a sucker for it...senses it from many realms away” you continue, shaking your head and rolling your eyes playfully. Looking around the room, you can’t help but keep looking back to the tall man who has a perfect complexion and long, dirty blonde hair with blue crystal eyes. With lips so succulent...you want to kiss all over them and run your hands through his locks, as he uses his large, soft hands to roam around your body-

“So who did we summon?” Your thoughts are interrupted by the small, gorgeous lady to your right. She has blue streaks in her black hair, and a cute little button nose that you want to just *boop*!

“I’m Y/N, a succubus” you smile delicately at the woman in front of you, glancing back to the man who caught your eye before.

“And you are?” You question, turning your attention to the male on your right

“I’m Lili-“

“Not you! This handsome gentleman in front of me” you point with your long, ‘black as night’ painted fingertip towards the tallest man.

“I-i’m Hamish. Hamish Duke” he replies, cheeks blushing a gentle shade of crimson.

“You’re really hot” you tease, biting your lower lip in hot anticipation at your dirty thoughts. Hamish’s eyes widen at this, bringing his hands towards his front slightly.

“I could say the same for you, love” He gulps. He doesn’t know this, but you can actually read his thoughts; images of him pushing you up against the wall, his hands on your ass as your legs wrap around his middle, lips working sweet magic as you’re caressing his face and hair...leaving small, wet pecks on his neck as he moans your name out loud, thrusti-

“Hey, i’m Randall” the tall, pretty brunette calls out, stepping towards you. He brings his hand out to shake, to which you accept. A huge grin is painted across his face as his hand touches your dainty one, Lilith just rolls her eyes and huffs.

“Okay okay let’s wrap this up here” she remarks, pulling Randall away from you. You turn to see a shorter male, who sports platinum blonde hair that falls to the side of his face. His eyes are wide, mouth slightly parted and eyebrows furrowed.

“Are you alright, pretty boy?” You ask, genuine concern across your face. Randall giggles like a school boy at your words, repeating (and i quote) “hehe pretty boy heheee” quietly in the sidelines whilst pointing at Jack.

“I....uh....hi” Jack replies, fixing his hair after noticing you were looking at him

You lightly laugh “hi, cutie”

You look back over to Hamish, as his filthy visions are still happening

“I can read your thoughts, you know” you laugh as he blushes bright red and covers his front completely now

“It’s okay, i liked them” you continue in a husky tone, stepping closer towards him with your hands in front of you, gasping to be touching him.

He reaches his hand out towards your stretched hand, gently touching your fingers and delicately wrapping his large ones round them. You both intertwine fingers, as gazes are locked onto you both. He pulls you towards him, his head tilting slightly in awe at your appearance.

“Uhhh...okayyyy?” Lilith gawked as the rest of the Knights share glances of pure confusion and slight panic.

You chuckle lightly at Hamish’s actions, as

he wraps his arms around your lower back, swaying from side to side.

“You’re beautiful” he whispers into your ear which sends excited chills down your spine. He smiles looking down at you.

“What is happening right now?” Jack asks the others, who shrug their shoulders watching like hawks. Lightly, you plant a small kiss on his lips...which Hamish returns, only with more passion and lust. The kiss deepens as his hands grip tighter and your thrusting into him for more becomes intolerable, until you both need to release for air.

“Uhh Hamish? Y/N? Hello?” Randall waves his hands in the air trying to signal Hamish, but proves useless. As you’re heavily gasping in air, you notice Hamish’s mouth - your red lipstick has smudged all over his mouth

“BRO you look like a clown!!” Randall cracks up, laughing hysterically. Jack and Lilith snort upon seeing Hamish’s state, but he doesn’t care. He quickly and forcefully grabs you again and drops you bridal-style whilst passionately making out with you once again. Jack, Lilith and Randall all look back up from their laughter fits to see you two basically eating each other’s faces. Suddenly, it’s not that funny anymore - just disturbing.

“Okay that’s enough, Ham-burger” Randall shouts. Nothing.

“Yo Hamish dude stop” Jack sings, which again does nothing to Hamish and you.

“Yeah this is now how i thought my Tuesday was going to go” Lilith says as she gestures towards you two. “Is he enchanted or something?!”

“I uh...maybe?” Jack mutters

“Maybe i am too” Randall eyeballs you and Hamish “wait...i said that out loud didn’t i?” he quickly looks down and plants his face with his hands. Yeah...he was totally thinking of a threesome at that time.

Begrudgingly you break the contact between yours and Hamish’s soft lips and lift yourself up from his arms, yet he continues leaving sweet, soft kisses on your neck.

“I know what you’re thinking, cutie” you look up to Randall, who squeals in embarrassment and mouths ‘don’t tell them’ towards you, making you laugh.

“What were you thinking about?” Jack asks

“Basically he was thinkin-“ you begin

“NO no NO DON’T say anything” Randall barks out, breaking Hamish from his trail of leaving kisses down your neck

“You know what nevermind” Jack grunts as he scrunches his eyebrows up in discomfort.

“Okay this is getting too weird now. Hey, Y/N can we get Zecchia please” Lilith asks, seemingly annoyed

You sigh loudly, clearly annoyed that your fun was about to be wrapped up “fine. But i want to see you again” you say, stroking Hamish’s hair out of his face.

“Why does she have to go? Can’t she stay for a little longer?” Hamish pleads, but is shut down by Lilith giving him a death stare whilst growing towards him.

“It’s okay, she’s right. Okay well this was amazing. Call me again” you say as you wink towards Hamish, who’s knees buckle slightly. You walk towards the middle of the room and straighten yourself up, lifting the strap of your top back onto your shoulder.

“Nice to see you, lovelies” you give a little wave with your hand, then click your fingers and disappear. The Knights all glare round to Hamish, who straightens himself up and buttons his waistcoat back up.

“Have fun there buddie?” Randall quips, smirking slightly at his friend

Hamish doesn’t say anything, he just looks down in embarrassment

“Oh, and you might wanna-“ Randall gestures for him to wipe his lips, as Jack and Lilith silently chuckle from the other side of the room.

It’s safe to say, you left your imprint on Hamish Duke...and he won’t be forgetting that any time soon.

Let me know what you guys thought, and of you want any more fanfic :)

#hamish duke imagine #hamish duke #hamish duke x reader #the order season 2 #the order imagine #the order #the order netflix #randall carpio #randall carpio x reader #the knights of saint christopher #lilith bathory #jack morton #alyssa drake #lilith bathory x reader #jack morton x reader

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jeromesxreader16 · 3 years

Text

Such a Joker (53)

Part 52 Here!

~o0o~

I pack two sandwiches in my purse and proceed to cover my hair with the large silk scarf. "Where are you sneaking off to?" Babs asks walking past me and downing a drink. "Secret date? I figured you would get sick of the pale faced clown." I smile at my hands. I could never tire of my boy. I'm as crazy as him, maybe more, but he would never turn me away, and I could never leave him.

"I'm married." "Even better." I narrow my eyes at her. "Babs, I'm going to see my dad." She widens her eyes. "Now you're asking for a death wish." I walk out the door, my heels clicking every step. "If you say so."

I walk into the GCPD and can sense the chaos and tension thickly canned in the air. Not seconds later two individuals start brawling over bread. "Hey! Break it up!" My father pushes them back. "For all the new people here... everyone is welcome in Haven, but there are rules. And one of them is we leave the fighting outside. Government already thinks we don't deserve help. We have to show otherwise. Gangs want to tear themselves apart outside, that's their business. In here, in Haven... we help each other survive." I hum with a slick smile as the two dispute the issue and the tension falls. Saved for another day.

I walk up to him nudging his arm. "Nice speech. I think it worked." He turns to me and gasps, but recovers quickly. "(Y/n). You're so big. No... Just-" "Pregnant, dad." He nods smiling. "So what happens when they find out the government abandoned them?" He sighs, shaking his head. I pat his back. "Come on paper man. You need some real food." I pull him into his office and remove the disguise. "Italian sub for you, and tuna for me." "You hate tuna." I smile sitting down. "They don't." I pat my swollen tummy. "So there are two of them?" I nod smiling.

"And you're happy? He treats you well?" I nod again smiling at him. "Of course he does. He's not a monster, dad." He grabs my hand over the desk and squeezes it. "I don't... like him. You know this. He destroyed the damn city for christ's sake, but he is the father of my grandchildren, and the husband of my only daughter, so I can promise you... I will never kill him." I kiss his hand and smile. "Who knew that'd be so comforting to hear."

I walk into the elevator with the smile ghosted over my lips. Crackling from the speaker erupts my mind causing me to shake and grab the wall in fright. "Aw, honey, I'm sorry." Ecco's voice pipes up from the speaker. I wave my hand in front of the camera with a smile. "No worries. All good here." I laugh placing a hand on my stomach. "Where is Jerimiah?" "Working down below. Would you like me to get him?" I smile up at the camera. "Let me go down."

"Uh... Miss, I think we should wait. He doesn't want you around the-" I press the button to the bottom floor faster than light. "Oops," I smirk up to Ecco as the elevator skips the main floor and descends below.

The two doors slide open revealing a steamed room with the funk of hard labor. I step on the uneven ground and see Jerimiah fanning himself as he watches his workers. I rest my hands on his shoulders and kiss his cheek. "You're working hard." He spins around with a glare. "And you're not supposed to be here." He grips my hips pulling me towards him.

"I missed you." I nuzzle into his chest. He hums as we rock back and forth. "I missed you, my love. Come on. No lady should be exposed to this heat." He places his hand on the small of my back leading me to the elevator.

Holding me the entire way up and then carrying me to our bed, never letting us go. "Are my darlings all suggled up?" He asks resting my head on his chest. The icy colored flesh proving wrong to the touch of fire on my fingers. "Yes, Jer." I mumble feeling my eyes draw to a close. "Never will I go a day without my family... even your father." He kisses my head before I can ask the question.

Jeremiah POV:

My workers work endlessly day and night to break the walls of the under the earth. Slowing down each day, getting on my nerves in the end. You're pushing my men way too hard. "We're not gonna break through for at least a couple more days. There is absolutely no way to make it on schedule." The leader of the pack of sweat cogs comes in.

My wife doesn't need to be kept in this filth any longer. How dare he disrespect my future. "Well, not with that attitude, you're not." I slice the man's throat, as he falls to the ground, blood flowing on the dirt.

"Now... everyone... let's reach inside and dig... a little deeper, shall we? 'Cause that's the only way you're all making it out of this hole." I hum watching their fear thicken.

Two taps on my shoulder break my gaze from the project. "Oh, Echo. Are these all the recruits?" Skinny, no brains, slim Whitted. These are my soldiers?

"Well, I thought you would want quality over quantity. Not everybody can pass a .38 caliber test of faith." I smirk thinking of the trials and tests they've suffered. "Yes... you certainly have set a very high bar for devotion."

"Oh. Almost forgot. Bruce Wayne and his sidekick Curls... Or is he the sidekick? Anyway, they tried to infiltrate our little operation here."

"Oh?" " Oh. And Curls can walk, really well, especially... for a paraplegic. Ah. And she wants to kill you." I glare at her with a snarl. This doesn't help that my wife is being cared for in the same building.

"A lot, FYI. If I see her, I'll give you a shout. Oh... and kill her." I nod rolling my eyes. Finish the job and move on for the better of my wife and children.

I walk into the GCPD questioning room with my scarf wrapped around my head, and my belly protruding out. Quite the look I must say. I open the door to see Victor Zsasz pushed on to the table by Harvey.

"Ow. This is a really nice table." I snicker and take my glasses off. "You do realize her thrives on the pain." The three pairs of eyes look at me. "We got a dozen witnesses that saw you walk out of that building before it went kabooey."

"Yeah. I heard some gangs had taken over." Zsasz says turning his eyes to me. "Figured, with you guys occupied, I might help myself to some of your supplies. Hey, do you guys have any canned peaches? Man, I'd trade an arm and a leg for that right now. Not mine, somebody else's. Maybe little baby Maniax's." He laughs reaching for my stomach before Jim swats his arm down.

"If you're innocent, why shoot up a city block full of cops?"

"Because it was full of cops." Zsasz and I say at the same time.

"Who were also trying to shoot me. And, guys, those were warning shots. I mean, if I really

wanted to kill you... you'd be dead. You got a pen? I want to write this guy a thank-you letter. Do the math. If I blew up a building full of people, I would have covered

every inch of my body in sweet, sweet scars. Mrs. Valeska... want to do a strip search?" He winks before my father punches him. "She's married, pig."

I lock arms with my dad and walk through the station. "Got Lucius on the horn for you, Cap."

"Lucius, talk to me." I grab the phone holding it close enough for the both of us to hear. "Haven wasn't destroyed by a bomb. It was an RPG, like the one that took down the chopper."

"You sure?"

I'm holding what's left of it in my hand right now. We found pieces of it in the rubble. It was fired through the basement window, detonated the fuel oil tank. And we're still trying to figure out exactly which rooftop it was fired from.

"Rooftop?"

"Yes."

"Dad, the only angle you could hit this place from is above. Zsasz was on the ground. Looks like you need a new suspect. I think we need to-"

"Jim! Ah. I know the wheels of justice turn slowly, so I'm here to provide- a modicum of grease."

Rushing up towards the front, Oswald, the Mayor of fallen Gotham, stands tall and proud.

"You need to leave right now."

"Still claiming he's innocent, is he?"

"Yes. And as much as I hate to admit it, the evidence is backing him up."

Harvey busts out, "What the hell's going on?" "Harvey, according to Lucius, Zsasz couldn't have done it."

Oswald huffs with a smile. "I did not expect you to go soft, Jim. Actually, I did. Behind a grandpa and all must've changed your ways. Which is why I didn't come alone." Several gunmen come out armed and ready to fire. My father huddles me close and shields me from the view of guns.

"Bring me Victor Zsasz!"

"Leave, (Y/n). Go home!" Jim pushes me away towards the doors.

Jeremiah POV:

I wave my hat fanning my pale skin placed upon the crippling bones. It's so damp and hot in here, but I'm freezing. My heart has gone cold without her scent around. Not a touch, not a wiff, not a glace for days it seems. Where is my angel with my bundles of joy?

"You see, a river cuts through rock not because of its power, but because of its persistence. So what do we do when we feel like giving up? Dig a little deeper. And what do we do when we can't possibly go on any longer? Dig a little deeper. And what do we..." A sharp blade stabs into my side crippling my speech. I look down seeing the masked figure in the striped coat. I gasp feeling my footing slide as the attacker shoves the blade into my stomach further.

"Deep enough?" The individual removes the mask revealing the little pussy of them all. "Well, Selina, I must say..." She pulls the blade out plunging it back in sharply.

"Don't say anything." Over and over again the blade is shoved into my side. The light dimming, the hot steam hitting my brow, the devilish laughter of my brother. This is near my end? Maybe so...

"Selina!" The rat is stripped away from me causing me to fall to the ground barely clinging to the life of happiness I have.

"Selina!" Bruce Wayne holds the fierce kitty back. "Stop. It's done! It's over."

The building is quiet. The entire place is quiet... Not one swing of an ax hitting limestone, making a light clink sound. Not the ring of my husbands voice calling to his men. Not even Echo meeting me at the door with my slippers and milkshake. Something is not right.

"Jeremiah?" I call out as if he could hear me from below. If not him then someone. One of the members at least, but no one came. I proceeded to enter the elevator only to see blood on the buttons and floor. They were having the graduation today, not everyone makes it.

The doors open to the pool room and I could almost drop to my knees at the smell. Thick scent of blood coating the walls. I walk out of the elevator and down into the pool counting the dead. No Echo or Jeremiah. Good so far.

I make my way down to the tunnels where silence has taken over. Just a simple lone man sitting in a chair. "Where is Jermiah?" I panic pulling my jacket closer. Could he have left me?

"Mrs. Valaska!" "Where is my husband?" "He's off in the tunnels. He's got injured. I'm supposed to take you to him." "Well, go on!" He shuffles his feet in a pace of nervousness, tripping over rocks and pickaxes. "How did he get hurt?" "Someone came in and just stabbed the boss. She was taken away by Bruce Wayne." I feel fire ignite in my blood. Selina and Bruce. What a treat. Trying to kill my husband in my own home.

Down the tunnels I hear him. Groaning in pain as Echo stitches him up. "How could you let this happen?" I shout at her. "She was fast." "And you're supposed to be faster." I glare at her as she cowers at my words.

"Don't stress, darling. It's not good for the babies."

"Jeremiah." I kneel down next to him grabbing his face. "Are you alright?" He places his hands over mine, kissing them each. "I'm still alive. One thing I've still got on my brother. How are you, my love? I'm sorry. You must've been wrecked with worry." Jeremiah pulls me into his lap. I nod with my bottom lip out. "Yes, I was. I was so scared, Jer." He pulls me to him. "Aw my darling. I know. I know."

I shift my weight slightly causing him to jet in a sharp inhale. "Oh, honey. Stitches still sore?" He nods. "Never would have happened if you wore that armor I prepared." Echo hums, causing me to roll my eyes. "That bullet makes you sentimental of the wrong things." I huff out pushing her out of the view.

"Why would you not check who was working? You always do. You're always prepared." Jeremiah places his hand on my cheek again. "I had to let Selina thrust the knife into my flesh at least once. Verisimilitude trumps precaution, you see." "They think you're dead." I think putting everything together.

Echo stands to the side bouncing with information. "What is it?" She giggles jumping on her heels. "All systems go." Jeremiah lifts himself, placing a hand on the small of my back and leading us along behind Echo.

"You could've died." I whisper looking at the dirt. "I didn't." "But you could have, Jeremiah. That's my point. You have two children growing, and soon they'll be out in this world. They need their father. You've kept me safely away, but that won't mean shit if you're not around to protect your children." I move ahead of him in a fit of fire.

A hand grabs my shoulder spinning me around. Jerehimah dips me and pushes our lips together. His grip on my arm and hip so tight, keeping me pulled to him with no fight. He pulls away only an inch, looking at my eyes, looking into the soul. "Now, you may not understand everything I do, but I do it for you and these two kids. I think and I plan for hours. You sit up in the bed resting your feet like I tell you. When you start questioning if I'm going to make it, that's when this will fall apart. You're my darling. You've been mine for thousands of years. Never doubt me, (Y/n)." He places his hands on my stomach and pecks my forehead. "Come along now. We have things to do."

Leading me through the tunnels I start to see less of the dirt and more solid grey rock already formed into tunnels. "Where are we?" Jeremiah giggles pulling me alongside.

"Doctor. I'm hearing good things." Jeremiah says holding in laughter.

What is he up to?

The Doctor nods. "The bandages are ready to come off. Your assistant thought you'd like to see the results." Echo shakes her head in praise like a dog while Jer nods his head. "Indeed, I would."

He turns to me. "You won't want to miss this, (y/n)."

The Doctor unravels the bandages on the individuals faces revealing a profile built from professional lifestyle and diets. This is Thomas and Martha Wayne before my eyes... ALIVE!

"Oh, you two look beautiful." I smile looking down at her pearl necklace. "Down to the very detail with you." Jeremiah kisses my cheek. "I love family reunions, don't you?" "More than Christmas!" I cheer and giggle.

#jerome #jerome x reader #jerome valeska #jerome valeska imagine #jerome valeska x reader #jeremiah valeska imagine #jeremiah valeska x reader #jerome valeska smut #Gotham #Gotham City #gotham cast

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trashscenariihxh · 4 years

Text

Sub!Hisoka x Reader

Reader doesn’t quite get to fuck the clown, but...

A knock at the door broke your concentration on the book you were reading. “Yes?” you called out, eyes flickering over to the clock. 3:50 pm. Your 4 o’clock was early.

A silky voice answered you from behind the door. “It’s me, Hiso-”

“I know who you are.” You set down your book with a sigh and answered the door. “You’re early.”

A wide smile crept slowly over pale features. “Do forgive me.” The smile broadened. “I’m a bit over eager, it seems.”

“Clearly.” You stood back to let him in. “All right, come on in. All the way through to the back.”

“Per usual,” he drawled, sashaying past you and closing the door behind him. His high-heeled shoes clicked on the floor as he walked towards the back room. “See you soon,” he called over his shoulder before disappearing into the appointed room.

You didn’t miss the smirk he threw you. Cocky bastard. Cocky, well-paying bastard. He always paid you more than your going rate, and what’s more, he always paid on time. He might be cocky and a bit of a sleaze, but damn it, he paid on time and he paid well. You sat down to slip on the pair of heels you kept under your desk. As you did up the buckles, you glanced at the clock again. 3:57. A bit early, but for him, you mused, you’d grant three extra minutes.

Your heels clicked against the tile floor of the hallway as you made your way to the room where your client waited. “Are you ready?” you purred as you opened the door to the darkened room.

“I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.”

You rolled your eyes at the hyperbole. “Are you really so eager?” You gazed down at the now-naked man who lay sprawled on the bed. “You’ve never struck me as the impatient type, Hisoka.”

A low, deep chuckle resounded in his chest. “There’s a first time for everything.”

“I suppose so.”

“Indeed. So,” he licked his lips, “what do you have for me today, ____?”

“Hmm…” You opened your drawer of various accoutrements and pulled out a few of your favorites: a ball gag, a riding crop, a choke chain… “I was thinking of using the ropes today, if you don’t mind.”

Hisoka’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly; his nostrils flared, his voice became a hoarse whisper. “Oh, what fun.”

You ignored him, focusing your nen to conjure a set of ropes. You gave them a tug to ensure their strength before taking a moment to consider how you were going to proceed. At first, you thought about tying his wrists to the bedposts, but quickly remembered that he could easily snap those, so...

“I love watching you work,” Hisoka commented as you set one of the ropes on a nearby table.

“I take pride in my craft,” you stated simply before approaching him with one of the ropes. “Hands above your head please.”

Hisoka eagerly obeyed, his pupils dilating excitedly as you tied his wrists together above his head.

“Now,” you murmured, giving the rope a tug to make sure the knot was sufficiently tight. “Do you consent to being tied up just like this until we’re done?”

“Of course.”

As soon as he gave his consent, your nen activated; the ropes tightened even more around his wrists. His consent had reinforced them; only the safeword or your command would allow them to come undone.

“The safeword is the usual one,” you stated simply. “I trust you remember it?”

“How can I forget?” A strange answer; in all your years of being your client, Hisoka had never once spoken the safeword, no matter how intense things got.

“All right,” you purred, slipping into character as you opened the nearby drawer again and pulled out the riding crop. A bit cliche, but a classic nonetheless.

Hisoka watched you as you approached him, his chest rising and falling with each excited breath. “Is that for me?”

“Shut up,” you snapped, now fully in character. “You speak when you’re spoken to.”

“Very well.”

Smack.

You brought the crop down onto his thigh. “I thought I told you not to talk?”

Hisoka only smiled, not fazed in the slightest by the red welt forming on his pale skin.

“Hmm…” you hummed as you dragged the end of the crop up over his abdomen. “It seems as though you’re going to be disobedient today.” You let the crop trail over his nipple. “What am I going to do with you?” You gave his pectoral a few little taps with the crop, delighting in the way it twitched. “You like that, don’t you?” You walked to the other side of the bed, running the crop up his leg before you reached his hips. With a soft laugh, you used the crop to flick playfully at his cock, which was beginning to twitch to life.

“Oh! I almost forgot.” With a sly smile you walked over to the drawers again, opening a small drawer and pulling out a metal ring. Striding back to the bed, you slid the ring onto Hisoka's cock.

“Good boy,” you praised when his cock jumped at your touch. You stepped back, taking a moment to admire your handiwork.

Already sweaty, his pale skin marred by red welts, Hisoka was a sight to behold. His arms remained tied over his head; his muscles flexed and rippled, as if he were trying to break the bonds. He wouldn’t, though. The beautiful thing about your conjured ropes was, as long as the one bound had consented, they would be unbreakable.

“Roll over onto your stomach,” you ordered, quite pleased when Hisoka complied without issue. “Good,” you praised, running the crop along the backs of his thighs. When you brought it down hard against his ass, Hisoka moaned into the pillow. He always moaned so prettily; you rather enjoyed the sound, so you smacked his ass again. And again. And a third time. You swore to yourself you’d never tire of the satisfaction of hearing the slap of leather on skin.

Hisoka moaned again, his voice muffled by the pillow. Angry red marks had begun to bloom across his ass, back and thighs. His muscles flexed as he rocked his hips; he was rubbing himself against the mattress.

“Get up!” You ordered, smacking his ass again for good measure.

Hisoka rolled onto his back and regarded you with those golden eyes of his. Molten amber.

“Stand.”

He obeyed, easily sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He brought his hands down to hand in front of him.

“On your knees. Now.”

A smirk crept across Hisoka’s face, and for a moment you thought he was going to defy you.

Or else what?

He obeyed, however, slowly kneeling down on the hard cold floor.

You walked around him in a slow circle, the tip of your riding crop sliding under his chin and over his shoulders. “You think I wouldn’t notice what you were doing to the bed? Hm?”

He said nothing, only leaning into the touch of the crop.

“Disgusting man,” you snarled, standing in front of him. You glanced down at his now full-erect cock; it was flushed pink, veins pulsing, head leaking. He was clearly enjoying himself. You nudged the shaft with the toe of your shoe.

“You love this, don’t you?” You pressed the sole of your shoe against his cock, pushing it up against his abdomen. “Don’t you?”

Hisoka licked his lips. “Yes.” His voice was hoarse, thick with need, lust, and something else.

You pressed harder, taking note of the precum leaking from the head of his cock. It twitched against his abdomen. “You’re revolting.”

Hisoka let out a deep, throaty laugh. “I know.”

With a sound of disgust, you stepped back, gaining your balance for a moment before lifting your leg and bringing the sole of your shoe to his lips.

“Lick it,” you commanded.

Hisoka hesitated for a moment, and for a second you wondered whether you’d gone too far. He gave you a strange look before sliding a long pink tongue out from between his lips. He lapped at the sole of your shoe with long, slow licks, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Good.” You stepped away before bringing your other foot to this lips. “Now this one.”

As he licked, Hisoka’s cock continued to twitch, growing impossibly harder. He was panting now, each breath containing a hint of a moan. He was close.

A soft whine escaped Hisoka’s lips when you drew your foot away. “That’s enough.”

You stared down at him, at his dishevelled hair, his sweaty face, his weeping cock.

“Hisoka,” you murmured, tilting his head back with the riding crop, “can you cum for me? Can you cum like this?”

His mouth curled into another smirk.

“Do you need some help?”

His smirk grew.

“Very well.”

It didn’t take much, only a few well-aimed smacks on arms and thighs, to make him cum. Hisoka came with a groan, deep and loud, his semen spattering onto the floor. For the first time since he started coming to see you, he came without touching himself. Impressive, considering the cock ring.

You gave the order, and the rope around his hands slackened and faded away.

“Good boy,” you praised, reaching out and stroking his head while he removed the cock ring. “Good boy.”

***

“I trust you enjoyed yourself?” You’d resumed sitting behind your desk, having changed into your regular clothes.

“Immensely.” Hisoka, now freshly bathed, leered down at you. “Though I had hoped for a more… intimate session.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes and picking up your book.

“Perhaps next time then.”

You glanced up at him, gauging his seriousness. “You know that’s going to cost you extra, right?”

He grinned. “How much?”

You opened your book, cursing when you realized you’d lost track of the last page you were on. “More than you can afford.”

#hisoka #hisoka morow #smuttastic #the safeword was cannoli #for those who were wondering

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techni-kolor · 3 years

Note

For the trope mashup, 13 and 59 for Jonmartin or Jontim?

Okay this is gonna just be SO much angst but ,,, (Detective AU mixed with Love Confession AU !! With JonTim!!)

I'm picturing Jon as the detective, he's a rookie and despite his vigorous work ethic lacks a lot of the interpersonal skills really needed for the job. He's worked for The Magnus Institute, a private agency, for a few years before eventually given the file of The Skinner, an infamous killer that no one really thinks exists beyond in scary urban stories.

He sets off to research and finds startlingly little except that he always seems to strike around carnivals. Going off of that tiny sliver of information Jon begins staking out any mention of "The Circus" or carnivals and clowns in general.

After months of exhausting work, he finally manages to pinpoint The Skinner's next target, after already losing track of him multiple times.

Its a vintage circus that appears to have come out of no where but is making its next stop in Leicester.

Jon steels himself, and gathers all of his knowledge about The Skinner and sets off to the carnival. (Much to the ire of his co-workers who have gone beyond thinking this was busy work to thinking that its a frankly creepy obsession.)

Jon arrives and the show commences without any sort of remarkable events. But, while there he does run into the most attractive man he's ever met, and in their brief conversation they share a mutual irritation at the show but need to be there for "work reasons."

The circus itself is uneventful and turns up no further evidence.

Jon redoubles his research, instead focusing on non-active circuses as over the past year he's had no luck with finding any suspicious activity surrounding the operating ones and the killer is definitely still at large.

In the year of working, Jon has began having nightmares about The Skinner and how his victims faces are torn off and their remains desecrated and the stress of the case is making his coworkers even more suspicious. (Except for his boss, Elias, who seems proud of his sudden shift in intensity.)

Eventually he uncovers an ancient wax museum, and that it seems to be a cover for strange happenings. The entire place is rife with records of bright flashes, screaming from unknown origins, and occasional, disturbing reports of music playing even though its been abandoned for years.

Jon tracks down its location and with all the resolve, and obsession, he can muster goes to the museum.

He never makes it though.

On his way, and only a few minutes before he could arrive at the museum, he drives past a tiny cemetery.

He ignores it at first, but there's a man kneeling beside a grave and he is abruptly, so abruptly he almost careens off the road, reminded of the man from the circus months ago.

His dark hair is falling over his cheekbones and he is wearing a heavy coat, but even from the distance his long legs and athletic form are clear and something about the set of his jaw makes Jon certain.

And he is still absolutely as gorgeous as Jon had first found him, but suddenly other tiny details begin to click. The dark hair, the sharp toothed smile, the charisma that seemed to hide something more, the eerily casual way he hung around the circus without flinching and/or being there with children or any form of significant other.

Jon lets out the tight breath he was holding and turns the car around.

Sneaking through the scraggly cemetery he can't help but feel a sense of regret, and of pity.

The man, The Skinner, is knelt beside a grave, whispering in hushed tones to a plain stone. His eyes are glossy and beneath this dark hair there are tear tracks across his face.

"I know you're there." He calls

Jon jumps but with any sort of resolve he has, he stand up straight.

"You're The Skinner."

The man nods his head once, and when he lifts it, Jon is struck again by how beautiful he is even with the pain clear across his face.

"Yes. I am. I knew you'd find me eventually." He grins in an almost rueful way despite the situation. "I knew you wouldn't let it go after I met you at the carnival. People like us," he gestures to the grave, "We can't let go can we?"

"You killed those people?" Jon's voice comes out both sharper and more fragile than he wanted.

The Skinner nods again. "They took everything from me."

His eyes trail back to the grave.

For the first time Jon notices the details, the well worn grass beneath The Skinners feet, the neatly trimmed bush of flowers encircling the grave, and the neat script across the stone. Daniel Stoker.

"He was all I had." The Skinner sighs, long and dull.

"He was your brother." Jon isn't sure where the knowledge comes from but in the recesses of his mind he recalls the name Danny being intertwined with the first and most gruesome of the muders. "You killed him."

"What?" Tim eyes snap back to him, suddenly sharp and ferocious.

Jon can't help but stagger back a step.

"I didnt, I'd– I would never." He said, putting a strong hand against the gravestone. "I loved him."

"He was your first victim."

The Skinner huffs at him. "You're pretty slow on the uptake for a detective."

"I am not." Jon says indignantly before he can help himself.

"Yeah, sure." The Skinner huffs again. "I didn't. I would never kill Danny. I'd never even thought of killing anyone before they took him."

Jon doesn't get a chance to say anything, but the burning questions he has must show on his face because The Skinner continues.

"The Circus." The Skinner waves a hand roughly towards the road, in the direction Jon had been traveling. "Organized crime, still not sure what branch they are, but they took Danny when we were. We were kids. And they killed him, skinned him."

He pauses again.

"So I started skinning them."

Jon feels at once a flash of fear, and a flash of something bright and sharp that feels a lot like sympathy.

"You're looking for revenge." It isn't a question even as his voice wobbles.

The Skinner sighs and nods. "Yeah, I am."

He traces long fingers over the gravestones cursive. "I love him too much to not to."

"Are you going to kill me?" Jon asks suddenly.

The Skinner looks up and for a second there is something dark in his eyes before it flickers away.

"I should, but I won't."

"Why?" The word jumps out before Jon can realize the implications of aksing why a serial killer would choose not to murder you rather than being grateful.

The Skinner gives me a long look and something like a smirk tugs on the corner of his mouth. "Cause you're in it for the same reasons as me. Even if your ways more on the legal side."

Jon stands stock still, the image of the man known as "Mr. Spider" flashing before his eyes and his sudden escape from a certain death.

The Skinner breaks the silence.

"What are you going to do?"

"What?" Jon startles.

A tiny hint of a smile creeps across the Skinner's face. "Slow." He chuckles under his breath. Louder he says, "You've caught me. Am I going to prison for the rest of my life? Or am I just going to die here?"

Even though the words are flippant his eyes drift towards the grave in a way that suggests, with near certainly, that if he has to die then he wants it to be here. With Danny.

Jon's thought catch, and race through a hundred scenarios. He in no way is liesenced to kill anyone, regardless of the fact that that option is off of the table. He can't simply let him go, The Skinner is known nationwide even if it mainly through ghost stories. He could theorically pretend as though he had had found nothing and give up the case.

Instead what comes out of his mouth is, "I want to offer you a job."

"What?" The Skinner rocks back onto his heels, still kneeling.

Jon hiestates for a second. He is certain he has no hiring power or any sway beyond being a half decent researcher but he can't just let the man go.

"I work for The Magnus Institute. We investigate things like this, things like you. And you– well you can research The Cirus." He pauses, his voice lowering. "Like you said, people like us."

The Skinner sits back in silence.

"You don't even know my name." He says.

Jon gestures the grave. "I would guess that your last name is Stoker?"

A flicker of amusement breaks up the shock on The Skinners face.

"That it is. My first name is Timothy. Tim really though."

"I'm Jon, Jonathan Sims." Jon says automatically.

Tim laughs. The sound is raspy, but the clear mirth to it still has a traitorous part of Jon warming from the inside out.

"I'm going to need details about this Magnus place." He says, his hand resting easily on the gravestone as he rose to his feet.

Jon nodded. "Of course. I can provide any information that you need."

The Skinner, Tim Stoker, nods and his fingers trail off of the stone. "I guess I'll follow your lead then."

(Sorry there's no read more cut !! I wrote this on my phone !!)

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mysterioh · 4 years

Text

The Ignorant Beauty and The Beast of New York - Ch. 13

PAIRING: MOB!STEVE ROGERS X READER

SYNOPSIS: Y/N is an exhausted bio major. Steve is danger with a capital DANGER. She thinks he’s a sarcastic prick with an impressive knowledge of art history. He thinks she’s cute even if she’s only running on one brain cell. All he wants is a single date, but she’s adamant upon denying.

A/N: This one’s for the girls who feel underappreciated. Love you all! 💗

W/C: ~5k (kinda long this time)

Masterlist

Insert Very Cute Very Soft Title

“He’s so fluffy!” you fawned, squatting down to the dog's level, hands pressed against your cheeks as you looked at the fluffy cotton ball in complete awe.

Lucky sat on his bottom, smiling and panting with his tongue hanging out of his mouth, unaware of the effect he was having on you. He sat relaxed but ready to pounce on Steve if he let him. You squealed, shaking your head back and forth, and the mob men find it amusing.

"Don’t be rude Lucky, shake hands," Steve chuckled behind you.

“Hello, Lucky,” you placed your hand in front of him and he placed his paw on top. “So cute!” you screamed in awe. Steve pays close attention to the way your fingers sift through his luscious white fur. "Oh my god, you’re so soft!"

“She really likes Lucky," Bucky chuckled.

“I never knew she could be that nice," Steve shakes his head. His confusion and shock slowly morph into envy by the way you're playing with Lucky. "I can’t believe I’m jealous of a dog.”

“Hey, at least you know she isn’t a gold digger," Sam said. You're too busy with the dog that you don't pay them any mind. "She completely ignored this giant mansion filled with priceless treasures."

"Would you shut up?" Steve asked annoyed. "She's literally right there."

"She's gone, bro," Bucky crossed his arms. "She's not coming back anytime soon."

"You guys are finally here," Nat said, strutting towards them from the hallway. "I was wondering where you were."

You stand up as the redhead walks towards you. "And you brought a friend," she smirks at Steve. He looks away with an irritated blush creeping on his cheeks.

"Hi, I think we met at the restaurant," you extended your hand for a shake. "My name is–"

"Y/N," Nat shakes your hand. "I know. Stevie's told me a lot about you."

Your face flushed warm and you turned towards him with a wicked grin.

"Is that true, Stevie?"

Steve gulps when you tease him, it's like a sweet blaze burning through his veins. Steve's lips form into a pout before clicking his tongue.

"Alright, it ain't that funny," he said pointedly at the three snickering mischievously. "Sam, Bucky, Nat, in my office now," he ordered firmly, but it didn't phase them. "Peter stay here with Y/N."

"Aye, aye, Captain." He saluted.

He walks up to you and scratches the back of his head sheepishly. "I gotta have a quick meeting. If that's okay with you?"

"No problem with me," you shake your head.

Steve smiles brightly. "Thanks, it won't be too long. Make yourself at home," he turned on his heel. "If you need anything just ask Peter."

You chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll be fine, Stevie," you teased.

Steve shakes his head with a blush staining his cheeks. "Stop," he said in an attempt to sound serious but trails off into a flustered chuckle.

You turn to look at Peter. “So what do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” Peter shrugs, “how about we sneak around and do something illegal?”

“In the kingpin’s house?” you smirked. “I love that idea.”

“Great,” he beams, “Let’s—” Peter’s ringtone goes off and digs his hand into his pocket for his phone. He pulls it out and sighs. “It’s my girlfriend.”

“Why must your girlfriend so conveniently call when we are on the brink of a major discovery?”

“I don’t know,” Peter chuckled, “I shall answer and find out,” he takes a skip towards the living room for some privacy, leaving you alone with Lucky.

You crouch down to his level. “Well, Lucky, I suppose our mystery gang is down to two,” you said, cupping his cheeks. “What do we do now? Got any embarrassing pictures of your old man we can go through?”

Lucky barks and rushes off somewhere. He returns not a minute later with a ball in his mouth. He places the ball on the floor in front of you and pants heavily.

“Ball?” you asked, “Are you even allowed to play ball in the house?” You shrugged, taking the ball into your hand. “Well, Steve did say to make ourselves at home. So that means— catch !”

Lucky scrambles after the ball, slipping along the shiny marble floor of the foyer and into the hallway. You wait patiently for him to return, observing the interior of the mansion’s foyer. The house was styled in an old French Country Style with worn and ornamental wooden furnishings and soft tones of warm colors. In the middle of the foyer was the staircase lined with shining mahogany banisters that narrow at the top and grow wide downwards. The walls are decorated with various paintings. All matching perfectly with the decor.

You snorted while placing your hands on your hips. Of course, he’d have paintings in his house. It’s not like he couldn’t afford it.

You realize that a couple of minutes have passed and Lucky still hadn’t returned with the ball. You walk down the hallway calling Lucky’s name quietly. The low tone of conversation comes from one of the rooms and you tiptoed towards the door, cracked open just enough for a beam of light to peer through.

Crouching against the wall, you crane your neck towards the door to listen to the conversation inside. You were never one to eavesdrop but you had a lot of questions about Steve. A lot of questions he probably wouldn't want to answer.

You squeak at the feel of something soft brush against your leg and turn to find Lucky sitting next to you, ball in mouth. He drops the ball drenched in his slobber into your hand. Slightly disgusted you smiled at him. “Where have you been?” you whispered before turning back inside.

"Those men were either Rumlow or Chicago, we're not exactly sure."

"We'll find out."

"Chill out, Stevie, the girl's fine."

"It's not something to chill out about, Bucky," Steve countered, "She could've gotten hurt."

There's a genuine sound of worry and care in his words and even without taking a peek inside, you imagine what he looks like. Eyebrows knitted loosely in frustration, lips curved downward slightly in anger, jaw ticking, muscles bulging underneath white sleeves pushed up past his elbows, and hands placed flat on his desk as he's hunched over with the most despicable expression on his face. And it's all because of you. For you. You didn't know if it was right or wrong.

Bucky snorted along to the creaking of the chair he was sitting on being balanced on its hind legs. "Not when her prince in shining armor's there to save h–ow! Okay! I'm sorry!" He hollered.

"This isn't a time for jokes, Buck," Nat stated, seriously.

"The clown can't help himself," Sam snickered.

"Screw you, Wilson," Bucky jabbed. Sam was ready to retort but Nat interjected.

"What if it's neither?" Nat proposed. "What if they're all working together?"

"What do you mean?" Bucky asked, clueless. Nat sighed.

"Think about it. The Gambinos work with Lucchese. They're pals. Rumlow’s working with Lucchese and he shows up with this proposition right after Steve decided to nuke the Gambino brothers."

_Wait, nuke who? Nuke as in bomb? He's killing people? _

_All of a sudden, Quentin's highly irritating, fatherly voice twinkles in the back of your head. _

"You mean they're all in this together?" Sam questioned.

"What else am I trying to say?" Nat snapped.

"Woah Sis, better check that attitude," Bucky replied.

"You wanna say that again, Buckethead?" She asked, dangerously low.

Bucky gulps while shaking his head.

"Thought so."

"If they're all working together, who's the head?" Sam said, rubbing his hand across his chin.

"It could be a compromise?" Nat stated. "Working together to take over?"

"No, they ain't that buddy-buddy," Steve counters with a grumble. "There's gotta be one at the top that brought them together."

The room goes silent for a few minutes and you can hear your heartbeat bouncing back and forth between your chest and the wall. Lucky opens his mouth to bark and you quickly cover it with your hands.

"Sshh," you whispered with a finger in front of your lips.

"Hydra," Steve stated and your attention returns to inside.

"What?" Bucky asked incredulously, "there's no way."

"No wait a second," Sam stopped him. "The Gambinos were working with Hydra behind our back. Who's to say Lucchese isn't?"

"Sam's got a point," Nat agreed. "Hydra could be the head. They're covering themselves up with the big guys and those dumbasses are falling for it."

Bucky nodded. "Makes sense. The underdog's taking a chance to make it to the top."

"Well they're messing with the wrong mob," Sam snarled. "We'll show 'em just what we're made of."

"But, we can't afford a war," Bucky reminded, "Not when elections are coming up."

War? What does he mean by that? Does he mean like a GANG WAR? OH GOD, WHAT AM I DOING HERE?

"Bucky's right,” Steve agrees.

"For once," Nat quickly replied, earning a grumble from Bucky.

"Here's what we do," Steve started. You notice just how different he sounds. Stately and somewhat dictating, very serious with speckles of something dark. Something that makes shivers crawl down your spine. He doesn't sound like the Steve you knew.

“We wade this out," he continues, “Let it pass until the elections are over and then we hit ‘em."

"You think T'challa's gonna like that?" Nat asked.

"He will if he wants to keep his ass on that chair," Sam retorts.

"We don't make any moves until the elections pass and he wins," Steve re-stated. "Tell everyone working under you to lay low. No fights. No bullshit," he ordered. "We make 'em feel like it was nothing. Ya hear?"

"Got it," Bucky nodded.

You hear them shuffling inside, chairs being pushed, and steps coming towards the door and take it as your cue to disappear. Quickly picking up Lucky, who's heavier than he looks, you quietly run down the hall just as Bucky opens the door.

"And the girl?" Nat asked while Sam helped her put her coat on.

"What about her?" Steve asked, clearing the papers from his desk.

"If you're gonna keep her around, which you probably are, you have to tell her what she's getting into."

Steve sighs and drops his papers back onto the desk.

"Nat's right, buddy, she needs to know before it gets worse," Bucky agreed.

"I'll talk to her," Steve responded.

"Tonight?" Nat asked her tone stating that he better say yes.

"Tonight."

A haze of smoke dances underneath dim lights, above and around the round table of Sir Alexander's notorious mobsters.

The thick smell of alcohol and cigars mingled with the aroma of day-old pizza inside of Gino's Pizzeria. A few sat around the table playing cards, laughing raucously at another lewd joke. Others lined the bar with the wall illuminated by speckled bar lights shining through bottles of different hues.

It was always a den of debauchery, alcoholism, and the great unwashed of the town. No one came there with anything wholesome in mind.

Strucker walks past the men, each of them giving their stalwart a greeting nod or word, and into the back. He opens the door, gaining the attention of the men sitting around the table. They look at him with questioning eyes and he gulps silently. His eyes meet the cold ones of the man at the head of the table, sending a shiver down the grown man's spine. Alexander Pierce, the leader of Hydra.

"He got away," Strucker informed.

"How'd you let that happen?" Pierce asked, tapping his finger against the wooden table.

"It was dark," he said blankly.

"Are you fucking serious?" Rumlow asked incredulously. "He's not serious is he?" He points at Strucker while looking at Zemo.

Zemo sighed, slightly irritated by Rumlow. He's been all night. "With all due respect sir, I told you it would've been a bad move to do this," Zemo told Pierce. "But it's not like anyone listens to me around here," he looks straight at Rumlow.

"What the hell are you looking at me for?" He pointed at himself with both his hands. "I had an idea and you all liked it. How is this solely my fault?"

"Everything you ever come up with goes to shit," Zemo stated flatly. "Now the kingpin knows we're sneaking around."

"They don't know it's us," Rumlow retorted.

"But they know it's someone and most likely you," Zemo said pointedly.

"The boss gave me the okay," Rumlow replied. Zemo always had a way of getting under his skin. "So your opinion doesn't matter."

"After begging like a dog for it," Zemo bites.

Rumlow quickly stands, shaking the table along with him. "You wanna say that again?" He threatens with a grisly voice.

"Rumlow, sit down," Pierce stated calmly, unphased by his outrage, but slightly irritated by the three of them. "Zemo, shut up."

The two follow their stalwart's orders giving each other death stares making the older man sighed deeply like a tired mother.

"The Brooklyn Mob is the biggest force in the city. They've got the biggest territory. The best guys. And all the politicians that can do something," Zemo lists. "They got the mayor. Half the police force on their payroll. The best damn lawyer in the city."

"Nick Fury's getting old. He can't do that forever," Strucker said, lighting a cigarette.

"For old Rogers? I highly doubt it." Rumlow guffaws. "You know how much he gets paid for keeping his ass outta jail?"

"But there's always a weak spot," Pierce pointed out, cigar hanging out the side of his mouth. "No great empire lasts forever. They all have a weakness.” he sits back in his chair, hooking his leg over the other. “All we need to do is find one.”

“How are you going to do that?” Rumlow asked, completely confused. “No Brooklyn mobster is dumb enough to go against the kingpin, not like they want to anyway. They’re the cockiest little shits I’ve ever met.”

Zemo shakes his head. “You’re thinking too outwardly, Rumlow. We need someone on the inside, someone close to ol’ Rogers.”

“You mean like Barnes or Wilson?” Rumlow questioned, incredulously. “Good luck with that Harvard man.” Zemo huffs through his nose with a grimace.

"We need something. Something good,” Pierce told them. “Something that'll make the kingpin fall so far that he'll never get back up."

“I think I have something,” Strucker raises his hand.

“Strucker, be quiet, you don’t even have a brain,” Rumlow shuts him down.

“Honestly listen to me,” he persisted. “There’s some talk going on around the city.”

“Well, are you gonna tell us?” Pierce questioned harshly.

“Apparently, Rogers’ got a girl.”

Rumlow scoffed. “That’s news? Who cares about some chick he’s fucking?”

“No, no this may be something,” Pierce counters and Strucker smiles small. “Rogers is a gentleman. He’s sweet around the ladies.”

“Well, whoop de doo his momma taught him some manners before kicking the bucket. So what?”

“Whoever this girl is,” Strucker started. “She’s important to him. Maybe even more than his damn mob. I mean everyone knows the kingpin doesn’t back out of a fight, but this time he did and wanna know why? Because she was there with him.”

“Who is this girl?” Zemo asked him.

“I don’t know. No one knows,” he shrugs, “Probably a civilian.”

“So what do we do?” Rumlow asks the others. “Go after the girl? Bribe him into it?”

Pierce shakes his head with a frown. “No, I’ll tell you what we’re going to do,” he stood up, looking at his three best. “Rumlow, you’re gonna stay low.” he pointed at him then at Strucker.

“Strucker, you’re gonna find this girl, get every piece of information you can on her. Every damn thing you hear me?” Strucker nods in haphazard. “But don’t make a move. Not until I say so. This girl may just be what we need,” Pierce smiles devilishly and laughs haughtily.

“And what about me?” Zemo asked with furrowed brows.

“Pack your bags, kid, you’re going on a trip,” he patted him on the shoulder as he walked by.

“What?” he questioned Pierce as he walked away. “Where?”

Pierce stops at the door and turns back with a wicked glint in his eye and the gears in his aged brain concocting a toxic plan.

“Jolly old England!”

“So you live in this huge place all alone?” you asked, sitting on a stool by the kitchen island with Lucky resting on the floor next to you.

The kitchen alone was bigger than your entire apartment complete with granite-topped counters, sparkling clean kitchen items, and that never-ending fridge Bucky was talking about.

"Not really," Steve said, making some coffee. "I've got a penthouse. Smaller. Closer to work. I usually stay there."

"But you're still all alone.”

Steve stops for a second to ruminate on your words. True, he was alone. He didn’t have any family left, except for Lucky. He always tried not to think about it by keeping himself busy, but loneliness had a way of sneaking up on him. He shrugged, pulling out two mugs from the cabinet above him.

"I don't know being alone isn't so bad,” he replied, placing the cups down. “It gives you time to think. About yourself. About what you want in life and what you don't,” You listened while watching him pour some coffee into a mug. “You can use that time to find out something you never knew about yourself."

“I guess,” you replied sheepishly.

He turns with a smile telling you not to feel bad. He places a mug in front of you. "Besides I'm not always alone. I've got my friends."

"Oh yeah,” you chuckled. “How could I ever forget them? They're kinda hard to miss."

Steve laughs, returning to the counter to get his cup. "Sorry if they're annoying."

"No, they're not annoying,” you shake your head, cupping the mug with both of your hands. "I like them. They seem like a lot of fun."

He snorts. "They can be when they want to."

You take a sip of the hot liquid. A sweet wave of French Vanilla bombards your tastebuds. You notice a yellow sketchbook, sticking out from underneath some junk mail. Without thinking, you pull the book out.

"You draw?"

He turns to see you with his book in your hand. He smiles sheepishly. Why did I leave that there!? "A little,” he replied, turning back to work on his coffee.

"Seems to be more than a little,” you chuckled. "Can I?"

"Hmm, oh yeah sure go ahead,” he said, adding some creamer to his mug. He stops midway when he realizes what book was in your hand. The yellow one. The one no one was supposed to see. Especially the girl who’s picture he drew horribly in it.

He almost drops the creamer as he quickly lunges over the granite top as you turned the page. "W-wait! Not—not that one!" he shouted, as you turned the page to reveal a picture of you. It’s a simple headshot going down to just above your chest.

Steve’s face goes red as half off him lays on top of the table, watching the way you’re looking at the picture he drew. Your eyes move from place to place, taking in every part he drew with attention to detail. Every stroke twisted into a lacy network of pencil lead. The painstaking task of shading to represent the contrast between light and dark. It’s fragile, natural, beautiful in its own way.

It makes you think. How long did he take to make this? How many hours did he erase to get it all right? Every line has been made with care, every stroke with you in mind.

Brushing your fingers along the picture you gasp in awe. "This is me."

"It is," he murmurs. You turn quiet and look at the sketch in wonder. Steve takes your silence as you being weirded out and begins to ramble an excuse.

"I'm really sorry. I just...I don't know what happened to me and I drew this cause I was thinking about you and I know it's really creepy—."

"I like it," you interrupted.

"What?"

"I said I like it. I love it actually," you looked up at him, beaming. "I've never had my portrait done before."

He stands straight and scratches the back of his head still embarrassed. "I'm- um- glad you like it."

"You've really outdone yourself with this. I don't even look this pretty," you remarked.

Steve was taken aback at first then shakes his head with a sad smile.

"I don't–I don't think that at all. I'm still lacking so much. I still can't get that pretty smile of yours right or that sparkle in your eye," lifting up your head, your eyes meet his vibrant, honest ones. "I'll never be able to recreate the things that make you so beautiful.”

Beautiful .

That's something you've never really felt before. Something no one's ever really said before. It's always been the opposite. There are a million flaws you could pick out right there and then, but you take his words as truth.

There's a dry ache in your throat as tears start to bubble at the corners of your eyes. You sniffle as teardrops fall onto the paper.

"What's wrong?" Steve came towards you in a hurry.

You shake your head, wiping away the tears "It's just," you sniffled, rubbing your eye. "No one's ever really said that to me before," you look up with a smile and red eyes. "Sorry, I'm getting your book all wet," you chuckled, avoiding his eyes.

His heart aches at your words, his fingers itching to wrap around you in an embrace. He wants you to feel loved . Feel wanted. He wanted you to know just how beautiful you really were. He wanted you to see yourself the way he saw you.

"That's fine. I don't care," he whispered, gently weaving his hands in yours. "Y/N."

You look up at him and he's left breathless again. To him, you’ve always been an understated beauty. Simple and sweet. Confident and strong. Perhaps that was the reason why your skin glowed. It was your inner beauty that lit your eyes and softened your features.

When you smiled and laughed he couldn’t help but follow along. To be in your company made him feel like he was more than just a mob boss. That he too deserved to be warmed in summer rays regardless of the season.

"You're very beautiful," he repeated and it feels more special the second time.

You chuckle while shaking your head, your hands still in his.

"If you're tryna get in my pants, kingpin, it’s not gonna work," you jabbed playfully.

He rolled his eyes, his lips curling in a playfully peeved grin.

"Can't I say something just for the sake of saying it?"

You smiled sheepishly, slipping off the stool and standing. "I guess you can."

Before he could even say another word, you pull him down to you and kiss him straight on the lips. Not on the cheek. But on the lips and it catches him completely off guard.

It's quick and chaste but it's something Steve's been dreaming of for a long time. Those pretty plump lips against his felt softer than heaven, sweeter than honey. When you part just a split second later, he feels lonely but content with the promise of another meeting.

You giggle sweetly, your breath mingling with his, tickling – teasing his lips to come closer for more.

"I should really get to bed," you said, standing a bit back. "I've got an early class."

"Yeah, of course," he nodded with a beaming smile. "Let me show you to your room."

Pulling you by the hand, he leads you out of the kitchen and towards the staircase. Everything seems so perfect at that moment. The dim light of a chandelier twinkling above, your hand perfectly intertwined in his, and his deep, soothing voice rambling that sounded more like the hazy tune of a sweet melody.

Never in your dreams did you think you'd get to share a moment like this let alone with a man like him. Dangerous for sure, but sweet and humble, generous and caring. All the good things about him seemed to outmatch the one bad thing. So what if he had a bit of notoriety? The world wasn't perfect and neither were you.

Sometimes you find the things you want most in life in the most unexpected of places. You found yours in him. Though small at the moment it could blossom into something more. And for that "what if" you were more than willing to stay.

“I think Lucky wants to sleep with you tonight," Steve chuckles as the puppy pushes his way through the door and your legs.

"I don't mind," you smiled at him making his way to the bed.

You reached on your tiptoes and gave Steve a kiss on the cheek. “Good night.”

Steve smiles sweetly not really wanting to leave. He plants a kiss on your intertwined hand, igniting a blazing fire across the skin of your arm. “Good night," he wishes.

Quentin stood by the science building on campus as he did every day, waiting for you to drag yourself to school like you did every day, but this time he finds something he didn’t expect. His jaw drops at the sight of you driving up in the passenger seat of a sparkling silver Corvette. It’s only until the car stops by him on the side of the curb does he really believe that it’s you.

"Y/N! What are you doing with him?!” he shouted with an accusatory point.

“Oh, hey Quentin," you got out of the convertible not really paying attention to him. You turn towards Steve. "Thanks for the ride, Steve and for letting me stay.”

“You spent the night with him?!” he hollered, waving his arms around.

“No problem, sweetheart," Steve chuckled sweetly.

“Don’t call her that!” Quentin shouted, standing next to you.

Your eyes are completely fixated on Steve and don't notice Quentin glaring at you. “See ya around sometime?”

“Yeah, I’d love to," the blonde agreed with a smile.

“Stop ignoring me!” Quentin huffed putting his hands on his hips.

“Do you hear that annoying sound or is it just me?” Steve asked, teasingly, earning a giggle in return.

“Y/N, what the hell were you doing with this criminal for an entire night?”

“It’s a long story Quentin I’ll tell you later,” you waved him off.

“I demand to know right now!”

You rolled your eyes with a huff. “I’ll tell you after class," you stated with emphasis.

“Hey,” Steve calls you back. “If anything happens, you call me right away. You hear me?”

“You have his number?” Quentin asked through gritted teeth. He just couldn’t process how you went from hating him two days ago to sleeping over his house.

You smiled with a nod. “Yeah, I’ll tell you don’t worry.” Steve takes your hand and kisses it.

“I’ll see you later then?” he asked again, running his thumb across the ridges of your knuckles and you wanted to melt right there.

“Call me when you’re free,” you told him with a sudden urge to kiss him again. But not right now, Quentin would raise hell if he saw that. As if he wasn’t already.

“What the fuck is happening here?” Quentin questioned. “You stay away from her,” he pointed at the blonde. Steve gave him a snarky smile that said: I do what I want twink ass bitch and it only pisses him off more. “And you stop looking at him like he’s your fucking Romeo.”

“I mean if the job’s open?” Steve shrugged, his Prada sunglasses hanging low on his nose and looking over at you. You chuckled as Quentin pulls you along by the hand.

“It’s not.” he bit back. “So leave before I call the cops.”

You bite your lip, highly tempted to skip class, jump back into his convertible, and have him take you wherever he wants to. Along lone country roads, feeling the wind twirl through your hair as he holds your hand in his, kissing it from time to time as he drives into a tangy orange sunset. You’ll take it one step further, pressing a kiss onto his cheek and along his jaw until you reach those pretty lips.

God, what was happening to you?

"What are you staring at?” Quentin hissed, bringing you back to your senses. He points upward toward the building. “Get your butt up those stairs right now!"

You follow your dad friend up the stairs as he goes off about how out of line you are. You turn around as he pulls you behind him. Your eyes meet Steve’s baby blues, twinkling under the sunlight. You chuckle at him as he waves goodbye.

You press your hands against your lips and send a kiss towards him flamboyantly. He clutches his chest and falls back onto his seat dramatically leaving you a giggly mess. It's a pity that you had to leave so soon.

You shoot one last smile his way before going inside and it's like Cupid's arrow shot him right through the heart.

TAGLIST (OPEN): @ashwarren32 @chuckennuggets1213 @scuzmunkie @siriusement @rootcrop @savedbystark @little-dark-empress @boxofteenageideas @great-goddess-of-sin @calwitch @achishisha @captainchrisstan @thirstybunz @littlebees-things @voltage-my2dlove @rinkashirikitateku @booktease21 @harleyscheekheart @emptyporsche @imsonick

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #mob!steve #mob!steve rogers x reader #mobster steve rogers x reader #mobster au #mob!steve rogers x you #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fluff

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nightwhite13 · 4 years

Text

at first i wanna write something serious, but somewhere along the way @vallern came up with a hc and everything went crack from there, and she helped me wrote this even tho she didn’t play the game, ugh her mind. so if u asking us about plot, tone, etc? we dont know her. this set in distant future or an au idk, no one knows

anyway, stay strong during this trying time, fellow clowns

tagging @somewillwin @uhh-the-green-thing @poppy-sin-clair @malvinghlein @jmojellybae @simpforpoppy

The sound of your heels echoed between the dull conversation of the other students, still lingering at campus after their class. You ignored the worried glances they throw at you. You didn’t care; it wasn’t the first time they gawked at you nor will it be the last, but this time, it felt different because you fucking knew why they were looking at you, and it’s not because of something good.

Good, bad, neutral.

Once upon a time it’s such a foreign concept for you; after all, everything is acceptable in the name of profit, your father once said to you when he taught you everything you need to know to take over the family’s company.

“Poppy, wait!”

You grit your teeth and walked faster, thankful because unlike some idiot you can actually walk in heels. Hell, you probably could climb Mount Everest with one.

“Poppy, holy shit, stop!”

You ignored him, but you can tell he’s getting closer to you.

You screamed when Carter caught up with you. He tugged your wrist until you stopped walking, almost making you fall because of the sudden movement.

“Let go of me, you idiot!” You hissed as you yanked your hand away from his big hand.

“Look, it wasn’t her fault!” Carter said between his panting.

Your cheeks burn, remembering what you just saw a few minutes ago. “I don’t care whose fault…”

“Persephone kissed her, okay, we were just hanging around waiting for you and…”

“Why are you even waiting for me?” You know your class was going to take forever so you told Bea to go on ahead with everyone else and you can go there with Uber or something since you just had a fight with your parents and they forbid Samuel to pick you up. You don’t want to hear the jocks complaining because you disturbed their lunch scheduled–and they called you drama queen–so you thought it's better if Bea and the others leave first.

Carter looked at you softly. “You’re our friend; of course we’re going to wait for you.”

You looked away, unable to keep looking at Carter's super cute dimple. “I don’t remember ever being friends with himbo.”

Carter laughed. “Look, if you don’t believe me, just see Veronica’s Pictagram, okay? She’s doing a livestream of us catching grapes with our mouth.”

“What the hell?” You better keep Bea away from these himbos, otherwise she would turn into one. Not that it would be that hard, since Bea had half of a functional braincell on her best day.

“Look, just, just see it for yourself, okay? Bea didn’t kiss Persephone, she caught her off guard. It wasn’t Bea’s fault, Poppy.”

“And why is she not here? Why is she not the one that chases me? Are you her minion now?” It’s not like you ever imagined a scenario where Bea chased you down like in those romance movies you secretly love starring midwestern America's favorite white actress, Reese Witherspoon, no.

“What? No, I’m not yellow, don’t call me a minion. That’s a low insult, Poppy. Even by your standard.”

“Carter, that’s not…”

“Everyone is trying to stop everyone from getting into a fight with Persephone.”

“What?”

“Well, the last time I saw, Chloe is trying to punch Persephone because she kissed Bea out of nowhere, and Ford and Luis are trying to stop her.”

You sighed, if this happened before Bea came into your life, you would probably have said something like she’s my minion, of course she did that. But now, after everything, after all the bad blood between the two of you, it was weird to hear that Chloe actually cared for you. She always has, but you still didn’t understand why would Chloe put up with your bullshit.

“Michael is holding back Zoey from calling her family’s lawyer.”

“What?”

“Zoey said what Persephone did is a sexual assault and she can get Persephone in jail for that.”

You knew that Zoey girl was smart and efficient. A tiny part of yourself was happy for Veronica when they both announced that they’re together now.

“And where’s Bea now? Why is she not here?”

Carter’s forehead crinkled. “Uh, I don’t know.”

“See, she doesn’t care about me! Then why should I fucking care?” You said, yet you actually fucking cared. That was the worst part. “I told Bea that skank is bad news, but what did she make me do? I had to apologize to that bitch! And look what it got me?” You raised your voice, trying to keep your tears at bay and jabbed Carter’s chest. “That bitch kissed my…” Girlfriend, you wanted to say, yet you swallowed the word back and it made your throat hurt.

The two of you haven’t talked about your status, not yet. Both of you had so many issues to deal with, and by the time it’s done, reality slapped you and reminded you that finals were just three months away. You couldn't afford to slack off; not if you wanted a relatively free summer vacation away from your parents' nagging and not-so-hidden disappointment.

“Look, Poppy…” Carter touched your wrist again.

“Don’t touch me!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Carter raised his hands in surrender. “Look, just… Hey, Poppy, wait!”

You didn’t need to hear your stupid ex-boyfriend apologize in behalf of your stupid…

Stupid ex-something.

__________________________________________________________

Thankfully, no other idiots were stupid enough to stop you from going to your dorm. You slammed your door hard, ignoring a voice that sounded like your parents’ at the back of your mind, angry at you for your childish behavior. ("Do not slam your door on me, young lady!")

You growled angrily when you realized you were wearing Bea’s new jacket, the jacket you gave to her a few weeks ago. It’s not that you were trying to change her style. Honestly, all those times you were mocking her style was maybe, just a little maybe, because you liked her, just a tiny bit. You'd rather die than to actually say that to her face, though.

Good girls don’t fall in love with another girl, Poppy.

Your parents' words kept echoing inside your head every time your heart beat faster whenever you saw Bea, and you were always listening to your brain instead of your heart. You still felt guilty every time you enjoyed bickering with her and pushing her buttons, because she made you feel alive. It was wrong. It was wrong and yet it was all you can feel whenever you think about her. Before you knew it, Bea had wormed her way into your brain, and now she lived in your head rent-free.

You ripped Bea’s jacket and threw it to the floor after taking off your heels. You looked over to Bea’s red jacket, lying on the floor with the back facing you. Bea still had that mindset where she wouldn’t spend money to pamper herself. “Jacket is a jacket, babe. Why do I need to buy something expensive if I don’t like it?”

So you tried to find something that Bea liked and it wasn't that expensive. Honestly, you were surprised with Taylor’s ability to find stores that sold medium-quality clothes and actually looked good. It was a marvel, your friendship, ugh you want to barf every time you say friendship, with Taylor. You never knew that thank you and please had so much power to control people. Whoever said you can catch more flies with honey was right.

You thought that maybe you should take a really nice and long bath to relax and forget everything that happened. But on another side, you were curious with what Carter said. He might be a himbo, but he’s no liar. So you opened your Pictagram and sure enough, Veronica’s livestream was the first thing you saw. You wanted to click it, but then Veronica might know that you see her livestream, and you didn’t want her to know. So you used your rarely used picta.

____________________________________________________________

“Okay, so how are we doing this?” You could hear Veronica’s voice; she was recording Bea, standing between Carter and Luis. Suddenly, Veronica moved the camera, and you saw Chloe talking with Taylor, but you couldn’t really hear what they were saying.

When the camera was focused on Bea again, Michael stood next to Carter, holding a bag of green grapes.

“Simple, Louis will throw grapes at me and I’ll try to catch it with my mouth.” Bea said with a smirk.

“And I’ll catch Michael’s throw.” Carter pointed to himself with both of his thumbs.

You heard Zoey's groan, because how clear her voice was, like Veronica’s, you had a hunch that she probably sat next to her girlfriend. “Babe, that sounds dangerous. Can you do something that doesn’t have any probability with either one of you end up in the hospital?”

Veronica laughed and now she was filming Zoey’s frowning face. “Let them, it’s good for the view.”

“Babe, no!” Zoey pushed Veronica’s shoulder, probably, but it only made Veronica chuckle.

“Come on, are you guys doing this or what?” Chloe yelled from her place, she’s eating that spicy chips your great-aunt bought from Indonesia during her vacation there. Ford was sitting next to her, and she slapped his hand when he tried to take the chips bag from her.

“Michael, didn't Trixie ask you to buy grapes?” Zoey said. “Isn’t that your girlfriend’s grapes?”

Everyone groaned at the same time, while Michael slapped his forehead while looking at the bag. “Oh shit, I forget!”

“Zoey, stop being a voice of reason for once!” Bea yelled.

Veronica’s camera was still focused on Bea and the jocks, and honest to god she stomped her foot like a toddler. You couldn’t believe these people once called you drama queen. “Well, I’m sorry, but without Poppy here, I’m the only one with the brain cell left between you intellectually challenged people!” Zoey huffed. She’s right; you’ve lost count on how many times you had to stop Bea and the jocks from doing something stupid and idiotic.

“Hey, I’m not that stupid! You take that back!” Veronica moved the camera to Chloe right before Chloe threw a chip at Zoey, both of them gasped in surprise. Thankfully, the chip landed at the table.

“Veronica, come on, record us!” Bea whined.

“Are you sure… Oh, Persephone.” Veronica’s voice suddenly went flat.

Your blood boiled when that fucking skank entered Veronica’s camera view. She pushed Luis away from Bea, while Bea waved at her.

“Oh hey, what are you…”

Everything happened all at once.

Persephone pulled Bea by her shirt and kissed her hard. You felt like you want to vomit and your body suddenly felt colder than before, you heard Chloe screamed, “You fucking asshole, let her go!”, and then she lunged forward only for Luis to and Ford to hold her back, while Chloe was kicking and screaming. And then you saw Persephone waved.

And that’s the picture Persephone sent to you and posted it on public for everyone to see. The one that made your world stopped spinning and holding you back from going to find Bea. She could kiss whoever she wanted, you keep telling yourself that, yet your heart shattered with every step you took away from her.

Veronica’s camera suddenly shook the moment Zoey stood up and yelled. “Let her go, or I’ll call the police!”

Michael pushed Persephone away from Bea.

The last thing you saw before the video ended was Bea’s furious face.

____________________________________________________________

You sighed deeply and threw your phone to your bed.

You knew it wasn’t Bea’s fault, you knew the moment you saw that bitch's smirk. And yet, you felt like someone burned what's left of your heart with jealousy and anger.

No, it wasn't anger. It was another emotion you haven’t acquainted with, one that is similar to what you always feel every time your parents break their promises to you.

Disappointment.

("We can't go to Seoul this summer, Poppy, Auntie Na-ra is probably busy. Besides, wouldn't it better to spend time with Peter? Help your dad get that tender, will you?"

"But I called Auntie a few days ago and she said she's free anytime!"

"Spending time with Peter is more important, Poppy. You could go see Auntie Na-ra at winter break. This is more important.")

But you didn’t understand why you would feel that way for this kind of situation; it should’ve been anger, consuming you with passion until you burned everything down within your reach.

It should’ve been anger, because you understood anger. It was one of your best friends beside loneliness and fear, you knew it too well and anger understood you like no one ever does.

But instead of the comforting burn of anger, you felt the coldness of disappointment at the bottom of your empty heart.

Before you could analyze this anomaly further, you heard commotion from outside of the Zeta building. Even before you walk toward your window, you know the source of said commotion.

“Luis, I thought you said your speaker work!” Bea raised her voice.

“Well yeah, that’s before Ford threw my speaker to the freaking wall!”

“Bro, I didn’t know it’s a speaker, okay? It looks like a brick! Why did you even buy that?”

“So you like to randomly throw bricks at walls?”

You folded your arms and watched Luis trying to fix his broken brick speaker from your window. He slapped Ford’s hand away when he tried to touch it.

“No!”

Faintly, you could hear Irene Cara’s voice singing What a Feeling. You tried to keep your face impassive, but it was hard since your body remembered what you usually do while listening to this song. (Trying to copy Jennifer Beal's iconic dance routine and failed, every single time.)

If it wasn’t because Bea spent so much time using your Spotify (premium, thank you so much), you would probably be horrified that she knew your favorite song. You once offered her to pay for the premium, not out of the goodness of your heart, but because she’s kept forgetting to subscribe for premium feature, and you’re so tired hearing the ads every time you actually enjoying the flow of Bea’s playlist. She had, surprisingly, a decent taste in music.

Instead of accepting it like a normal human being, Bea just copied her playlists to your Spotify. Good thing you already tidied up your playlist and you had to make sure that Bea didn’t put a new song there. And also you made sure your private playlist stayed private. You don’t need her to mock you for your anime soundtracks playlist. Bea could say whatever she wanted ("You like a goddamn Naruto song?!") but Flow's GO!!! is an absolute banger and nothing could change your mind, thank you very much.

You almost lost your shit when Bea asked your favorite music genre. Good thing your father trained you well and you could compose yourself and answered diplomatically. You had to bite your tongue when you heard Bea said Hey! Say! Jump! was overrated. The disrespect!

You didn’t talk to her for three days until she begged for your forgiveness. God, your reputation would never recover if people knew that your actual taste was somewhere between a Midwestern white mom and a goddamn middle schooler weeb.

You blinked a few times when you heard the beginning note of Barracuda from Luis’ broken brick speaker. Well, you did accidentally tell Bea that you like this song, who doesn’t anyway? It was a bop.

But you didn’t tell her that your real dream date was actually rollerskating with Barracuda blast in full volume. You didn’t spend 137 dollar and skipped classes for three days straight to watch Birds of Prey nonstop during the first week of its release for nothing. Plus, Margot Robbie beating men with bat and rollerskating? Yes please.

“Yes!” Bea screamed in joy when the speaker was in the right place and actually worked. She looked up to your window, holding the speaker on top of her head. Well, at least she’s not holding her old Xiaomi with its cracked screen, otherwise you would probably—

Never mind, Luis was holding her phone.

You groaned, trying to hide your embarrassment. God, her family is rich now; can’t she spare some of the money to invest in her gadget? You hated it every time you sent her emojis and she was just “Babe, it’s just squares.” Or she just sent a screenshot of your text (she changed your name in her phone, it’s Satan Popsicle now) and it’s rows and rows of squares instead of emojis.

“Poppy, babe, please…”

Before she could say anything else, the sound of Spotify ads suddenly replaced Barracuda, making everyone gasped in surprise.

“What the fuck?!” Bea yelled angrily and looked over to Luis. “Luis, what the hell, man?!”

“Sorry, sorry! I accidentally hit the next button! I didn’t know you didn’t have a premium feature! Who the hell doesn’t have Spotify premium anyway?”

You sighed deeply and rubbed your forehead, already feeling the incoming headache, while everyone was fighting with everyone down there. You saw Bea already hugging Zoey and Zoey was patting Bea’s back in comfort, you couldn’t hear Bea say something, probably she was frustrated because she didn’t use Zoey’s phone or that she blamed herself because she kept forgetting to download the Spotify's premium APK. Probably the latter, since you knew how much she loved that APK. You don't know, you're neither a peasant nor poor enough to go into the world of blackmarket apps. You're too pretty for Android.

You took Chloe’s shoes that you secretly stole from her room. Those shoes were hideous. Getting rid of it was basically a public service. Chloe should've thanked you. Then you threw one of the shoes, but it hit Carter instead of Luis.

“Get lost, all of you.”

“Poppy, what the hell?! How do you even get my shoes?!” Chloe screamed as she took her ugly shoe.

“It's so hideous, Chloe.”

“Oh you’re just jealous because they don’t have your size!”

You gasped and threw the other shoe at Chloe, it only hit her shoulder, damn it. “How dare you! Get lost, all of you, right now!”

“Oh, come on!” Zoey yelled. “It wasn’t Bea’s fault, Satan!”

“I don’t care, new money, get fucking lost!”

Bea held Zoey back and shook her head. “Come on, let’s just go.”

Zoey was torn looking between you and Bea. “Babe, what the fuck. Poppy…”

And then Bea finally looked at you with that soft and understanding smile. You hated it, you once yearned for it.

“It’s okay, come on.” She knew that you need more time, and she’s willing to give it to you because she was that nice.

Veronica was the last one to leave. She raised her eyebrow, but you stood your ground. You saw her type something, but you didn’t really think much of it. Veronica and her phone was one entity anyway.

But then you saw your phone, and it looked like Veronica actually had something to say.

watch my livestream, youll know the truth

idc bitch

Me & zoey r gonna leave this weekend 2 hang w Jaylen, do whtvr u want with that info

meaning?

idk talk w ur gf or have tons of sex

shes not my gf

lol k

You huffed loudly and threw your phone to your bed, good thing it didn’t miss or you need to buy a new one, again.

You paced back and forth inside your room; it feels weird without Bea here. Maybe you should go to her room? It wasn't her fault, after all. That fucking whore was to blame. She ruined your life once and while yes, sure, you had your revenge, now she’s back into your life again, and she’s already destroying everything.

You bit your nail, ignoring the sound of your mother from the corner of your mind reminding you not to bite your nails. ("Poppy, I will tie your fingers if I have to. Stop biting your nail, it's crass and disgusting.")

You gritted your teeth and took your phone from your bed and Bea’s old jacket from the floor. If this went wrong, you’re blaming Veronica.

____________________________________________________________

“Poppy, what…”

You pushed the door wide open, forcing yourself to get inside Bea’s room. Now you’re standing in front of Bea, unsure what to say. What could you possibly say in this situation, anyway? And you still don’t understand why you felt disappointment. At what, exactly?

When you craned your neck to meet Bea’s eyes, because fuck her for being six foot tall, you finally understood why.

“I hope you slapped that bitch after what she did to you.”

Bea chuckled and shook her head. “No, but I broke her nose.” She raised her eyebrow when you took her hands. “Um, Poppy...”

“Next time, if I told you that you shouldn’t trust a rich kid that isn’t spoiled to the core, listen to me,” you said without breaking eye contact.

Bea sighed. “Okay, I will. I thought it was just your old self talking shit about Persephone.”

“Well, yeah, that too.” You let go of Bea’s hand. “But that skank is basically a bad news.”

“Yeah, whoever thought she would try to get back at you like that?” Bea scratched her neck. “I’m sorry, but can we stop talking about Persephone now? I don’t want to hear her name ever again.”

You nodded.

“Is that all?” Bea raised her eyebrow. “I mean, you can just text me for that.”

You bit your lips. You don’t want to do this, you really don’t. “Okay, you’re right." You tried to fight the urge to say something negative or to backtrack.

Bea’s forehead crinkled. “About what?”

“Kanashimi is better than GO!!!,” you said with a grimace, as if you just swallowed a gallon of poison. Might as well.

Bea laughed loudly. “Finally you admitted that I’m right. Wait, how do you know…”

You never said Bea, you’re so fucking wrong and uncultured, GO!!! is the ultimate opening every time Bea said Kanashimi was way better than GO!!!, you only said that I’m too pretty to heard those songs, but I know you’re wrong.

You ignored her questioning look and climbed into her bed. “I’m using my Netflix’s account since I’m sure you don’t even have a Netflix account. I don’t understand why you’re so adamant to watch from Fmovies. You'd better pay for Netflix than for Nord.” Kids these days with their Netflix and shady streaming sites, they would never understand the feeling reading some batshit subtitle translation or watching thirty parts of videos on YouTube.

“What?” Bea was still standing in the middle of her room like an idiot.

“Well? Do you want to watch Naruto or not?” You huffed, already feeling your cheeks getting warmer. You never showed this side of you to anyone else, and now here you are, baring your soul in front of your ex-nemesis. Yes, you counted opening up a bit about your weeaboo side as baring your soul.

Bea laughed, honest to god laughed out loud while bending over and hands on her knees like you just said one of the greatest jokes in the universe.

You growled lowly in your throat and then you climbed down from her bed. “Fine, spend your weekend on your own then, I don’t care. I have a lot of reading to do anyway.” By reading, you mean there was a new chapter of Gokushufudou that just came out yesterday, but she didn't need to know that.

But Bea stopped you when you’re walking past her; she touched your wrist gently. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh.”

“You did.”

Bea laughed again, that stupid idiot. “Okay, yes, I am. But it’s because you keep saying ‘I’m too pretty to watch anime’ but you know way too much about it.” You just grumbled when Bea said that while doing an impression of you. It’s bad. You were way cuter when you were being haughty.

Before you could say anything, Bea bent down and kissed your forehead. You felt your forehead burned pleasantly from the gentle touch of her lips. “And of course I would love to watch Naruto with you.” She grinned. “After all, I taught you the power of friendship, believe it.”

“I hate you.”

“I know, I hate you too, Miss ‘I’m-too-pretty-for-anime’,” Bea said adoringly. “But we’re going to skip Shippuden, right?”

“Bitch, that’s the best part of Naruto.”

Bea rolled her eyes, but she’s smiling. “You have a bad taste.”

“No, I have a good taste.” You kissed her lips tenderly. “Because I chose you,” you whispered softly.

#poppy x mc #poppy min sinclair #queen b #makepoppyali2020 #playchoices #choices #my fics

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dracos-mudblood · 4 years

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Her

A/N: This is my first one shot in nearly three years and I know it is not the best. Instructive criticism is definitely appreciated, but please do not be rude!

*DIDN’T PROOF*

Last note: (y/n)= your name // (y/p)= your Patronus

Word Count: 2,508

It is no secret that you and Severus were in love. Although, it was also no secret that his heart was once completely enthralled by Lily Evans. So on the day that you were heading towards the Slytherin common room to meet up with Severus for a study date, it felt like a dagger to the heart when you found Lily hugging him while telling him she had missed him. It had felt so strange to see someone in his arms that had not been you. It was draining, captivating, and horrific all in one. At this moment, there was nothing you could do except watch and see how it played out. If you interrupted, there is a chance you'll never know what would've been if you hadn't witnessed what is right before your eyes. Before you could fully process what is going on, you hopped behind the coroner with a quick hitch of the breath, hoping neither had seen you. You and Severus have been dating about six months. You had met in your third year at Hogwarts while on the train at the start of the year. No other carts were open, and when you walked in, you were surprised to see a raven-haired boy with Slytherin robes sitting next to the window with his nose deep in a book. The Art of Potions, the book title read. He had already begun to read his textbook. The boy didn't even acknowledge you until you had asked if he fancied anything from the trolly. He declined your offer, and the two of you didn't speak until year four while you asked him a question in the library. There is where you had finally learned his name. "I have seen you in potions, and I was wondering if you'd be able to answer this for me," you had said, placing the book on the table in front of him. He didn't even glance up. "What is your name, by the way? Mine is (y/n)," you extended out your hand. "Sorry for being so rude, it is quite unlike me." "Quite unlike you? Highly doubt that," he had said, looking you up and down with a look of disgust, focusing in on your appearance. You had been instantly taken back. You had never been treated by someone with such disrespect so quickly. Swallowing your pride, you had turned around on your heel and continued off in the direction you had emerged from. While walking back, you heard the slightest whisper from the path behind you. "Severus Snape."

The memory plays in your head perfectly, as if it had happened yesterday. After that incident, you and Severus slowly became closer and closer. Starting with slight glances at each other and slowly developing to sneaking out after hours to talk to each other in the halls at night. You had both been lonely and needed the company. Although you had appreciated the beautiful friendship that was blossoming from the rude boy, you couldn't help but be jealous by not being the only Gryffindor Severus had spent his time with. The girl he was devoted to and helplessly in love with; Lily Evans. Over time, of course, that had changed. Severus and Lily had a falling out towards the end of the fourth year due to him lashing out and had begun to completely ignore each other. This being said, in most conversations with Severus, Lily became an untalked about subject. Just the mention of her name made him go mad. Once Sev had managed to turn back to himself, he began to fall for you, and you in no way could refuse to return the feelings. You definitely tried, but your will to keep your heart protected was weaker than your will to let the raven-haired boy be your love and for you to be his muse. The site in front of you made your heart stop, and your eyes begin to focus. Her arms were around Severus. Your Sev. The one she had given up long ago. Who was Lily to waltz back in and play with his heart once again; the heart he promised only would beat for you. Watching abundantly, you felt tears begin to dwell in your eyes. Why was he letting himself hold her? He wrapped his arms tighter around her as she nuzzled her nose into his neck. As if right on cue, Severus looked up. His dark eyes making his way to yours, widening when he realized who it was. Pulling away from Lily, Sev attempted to walk towards you, arm reaching forward to grab you before you left. But, it was too late, you had turned on your heel and walked at speed you hadn't even known you could go. Trying to getaway. Trying to get away from the one person you never wanted to run from, Severus. "(y/n)!" You knew you were dramatic, and you knew that you had to give him a chance to explain, but that didn't stop the feeling of betrayal in your gut. Not only were you mad at Sev, but Lily. She had been well aware that you and Severus had been dating. You were in the same bloody house! Tears down your cheeks didn't stop the fat lady from being an absolute nuisance. "What has the Slytherin done this time?" she said with great disgust while mentioning the house. "Caput Draconis" "You won't tell me? Probably because you know you-" "Caput Draconis!" you yell, not caring who hears. "Fine, fine. Enter, you dumb girl". Nearly four hours later, Sophia, your best friend, enters your dormitory. "Snape is out in the tower annoying the hell out of the Fat Lady trying to get in. Is something wrong," she explains. "Send him off," you respond. He knew better, and if he doesn't leave eventually, James and his friends will make their way out. Sev was smarter than to put himself in that position. Making your way to place Sevs sweater in a small trunk at the foot of your bed, you couldn't help but let a few tears fall. It is black, just like all of Sev's belongings. However, it has a little "s" on the sleeve. You had sown it there when you both started dating, and he had left it with you to keep you warm. You never gave it back, and he had never asked. Placing it in your trunk, you finally connected eyes with Sophia. "Send him off, please." The last thing you had seen that day was the back of Sophia's brown hair, walking out the door. The next morning you couldn't decide how to approach this issue between you and Sev. So, instead of handling it, you chose to skip breakfast instead. Although you know it isn't right to be so worked up over the encounter between Lily and Sev without an explanation, you just can't help it. Lily is the only girl that you have ever gotten jealous of, and quite frankly, you didn't know if it was because you thought Sev still loved her or if it was because it was the only other girl Sev had been close enough to share his thoughts with. Regardless, it hurt. You had decided to miss classes all day, you were far enough ahead that it wouldn't hurt in the slightest. As for dinner, you had desperately wanted to skip it and not go, but Sophia wouldn't take no for an answer. This resulted in being dragged towards the dinner hall with a stomach that was still not hungry. "(y/n)I don't know what happened, but the one thing I do know is that it isn't healthy for you to skip all your meals." Sophia had said matter of factly. You knew she was right, but you couldn't help the fullness you felt in your stomach when you felt upset. As of now, the only thing on your mind was how badly you didn't want to see Severus. It amazed you that you hadn't seen Lily and quite frankly, it passed through your mind an unpleasing amount that the reason being could be that she might be with Sev. Although you know he would never cheat, it did occur to you that he may leave you for her. That's ultimately what you were dreading, the reason that you hadn't brought yourself to face him. You weren't ready to say goodbye. Gathering into the dining hall, you quickly scanned the hall for the tallboy. You couldn't spot him, however, to your luck, Lily was a few seats down talking to some of her friends. At least they aren't together. Standing for a moment, you think about where to sit. Should I sit with my back towards him, or should I face him? Finally, you choose to sit facing that direction; you will at least know when he comes in. If he comes in. Nearly right on cue, Severus walks through the entryways, and takes a seat almost directly across from you in the Slytherin area, placing down his books while his eyes burn holes into your gaze. He looked like he hadn't slept in hours and as if he had been crying. Probably because of her. Breaking your gaze, you look down towards Lily, who is laughing with James Potter and his crew of upright clowns. That group demises Sev, why would she be with them after running to him? This doesn't click. Did Sev know? After having a realization that something strange was going on, that is when it became apparent; you needed to talk to him. Being in separate houses taught you guys many things, one is knowing when you need to talk. Nodding at Sev, you got out of your seat, grabbed your belongings, and quickly headed towards the door. Not long after, he appeared behind you. "(Y/n) I need to explain everything from yesterday. I promise it was not in any way malicious, and it was completely platonic-," you cut him off by placing a palm to his cheek. You couldn't help it. Even though you felt terrible, you were still upset. He comforted her so quickly, even after ignoring each other for so long. His love for her still shined through, even if Sev didn't admit it. "There is nothing to explain, Sev," you said. "I'm not mad, just a little surprised and hurt by the fact you took her in so easily." "It wasn't like that, she had been telling me about her family; things that have been happening. How could I not comfort her," he explained, looking into your eyes hopefully. "Well, that's quite not like you, is it? The reason you took her in so easily was because she is a sweet spot for you and always has been," you say, breaking the eye contact and looking down at the books in your hand. Trying to look anywhere but at him. "(y/n) that's no-," he attempted to say. "Sev, that's not what I wanted to converse about. Lily is still very close with James and his friends. I just wanted you to be aware that there may be an ulterior motive behind her throwing herself at you, be careful, Sev." With that, you turned on your heel and walked away, quickly trying to for away before you let the tears fall. You know you'll have to face him. You know you'll have to talk about it, but you aren't ready. However, that didn't mean Severus wasn't. He was never good at letting things play out on their own. Hot on your trail, Severus was behind you, and you knew you weren't going to have time to cope before facing this poisonous situation. - Yesterday was hell. Quite frankly, fuck Lily Evans. Walking back into my life as if it weren't better without her. I worked hard for (y/n), and she worked hard for me. We went through small battles, I lashed out once or twice, sometimes her hormones would get the best of her, but we usually would snap back in a day or two and head back to our usual routine as a couple. This, this was different. She won't even give me the chance to explain. Yesterday I had walked outside the common room and around the coroner to our usual spot. But, instead of (y/n), I found Lily. Quickly, I attempted to turn away and go on my way to fund her. But, she had been crying, and I couldn't help my curiosity. "What's wrong, Lily," I asked, frustrated she had taken my space. If (y/n) sees this, I am dead. She has this idea that Lily is the girl I love, which is absolute nonsense. I just want her to see that. Of course, I care for Lily, I don't want to see her dead, and I definitely did have a love for her in the past. However, it's the past. (Y/n) is my future. It shows in my Patronus. She is the person I ultimately care for, and I just wish she could understand that. Before I had registered what was going on, Lily ran to me and wrapped her arms around my neck. I was so uncomfortable, the only person I ever let my affection go towards was (y/n). This didn't feel right. "Lily, please. I understand something is wrong, but I don't feel comfortable with this." "Sev. I miss our friendship. I'm sorry for never giving you the chance to explain. Life has been so rough. My parents are arguing, Petunia won't tell me what's going on at home. I don't know what to do. And on top of all of that, I miss you," she said, nuzzling her nose towards my neck. I feel that I have never felt so strange. I hugged her back. As soon as I hugged her back, I realized we had been watched. There was a visible foot, yet the person the limb belonged to was hidden behind a wall. Soon after, the face came out of the dark, and I realized who it was. "(y/n)." Nothing had happened. I left Lily there, exactly where we had been. I know I hadn't done anything wrong, but that wasn't going to be an excellent justification with (y/n), and I needed to come up with something quickly. Before I lost her. "Please. One chance. Talk to me," I begged. She wasn't going to listen on her own. Reaching out, I grabbed her wrist and yanked her back towards me, quickly pushing her into a passing corner, against the wall. "Let me show you something," I pleaded. "Severus, I don't want to talk, I am exhausted." Ignoring her wishes, I showed her what I hoped would change her doubts. Yanking out my wand, I stared into her curious, teary eyes before pointing my wand out. "Expecto Patronum." A beautiful (y/p) goes through the air, and I have never seen quite anything like the stunning look in (y/n) eyes than the moment she recognized the beautiful creature.

#severus x reader #severus snape #harry potter

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thegreenfairy13 · 4 years

Text

No Country For Heroes - Becoming a Superhero (final)

Plot: the GCPD turns Jim in, in turn for Oswald’s protection who takes the opportunity to bend the detective to his will. (TW for torture, mind control, dub con). Originally written for the prompt ‘beg’ by @justsimplymeagain. Special thx to @whomerlockwood. I sincerely hope the last chapter meets your expectations!

Read the entire fic on Ao3.

Chapter 12 - Being a Superhero:

It turns out, Oswald has indeed never lied. Not to Jim that is. All he did was load an already existent gun and wait for it to go off.

Jim Gordon walks the streets of Gotham once more now that he’s been set free, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. He started off with Jeremia, the clown who set their beloved city on fire, and in turn, Jim sets him on fire, burns him to cinder until no magic pit will ever be able to bring this plague that the man was back to Gotham.

It’s liberating, Jim thinks, extinguishing what has been tormenting them all without the usual guilt, without consequences, without any fallout, without any paperwork to follow. This time no fear-stricken jury will for him allow to walk free, no corrupt judge will twist the truth.

To the world, Jim is gone, disappeared like an especially annoying mosquito that has finally flown into the light.

Jim knows he isn’t missed, not by Gotham’s citizens who had been as quick to condemn him as to declare him their hero. He’s certainly not missed by the GCPD who had regarded him as a nuisance on good days, and as a threat on bad days. The only person mourning him is Harvey, yet even he can’t muster up the courage of asking too many, too uncomfortable questions. As loyal as Harvey was to him in life, he’s also interested in saving his own skin. Maybe he simply believes the Penguin. He isn’t dead after all - just very different.

With his face hidden and his body enshrouded in layers of protective gear, it’s easy to make his way around the city unnoticed, to stalk on his prey. Once more Gotham celebrates a hero when rumors arise about the horrible demise of the next rogue. And then another.

Oswald had been honest. He never interferes in Jim’s quest. Whoever he deems worthy of his death, is free for the taking - ally to the Penguin or not. Maybe he doesn't care, with the Penguin, today's ally will always be tomorrow's enemy, anyway.

When the news reports another mobster being found on the shores of Gotham’s river, Oswald merely shrugs his shoulders as he tends to his knight’s wounds. Jim shudders when Oswald wraps the bandages around his bruised arms, utter devotion writ clear on his face, adoration leading his every action.

Jim finally understands what unconditional love looks like.

It’s beautiful.

He has to silence the traitorous voices yelling at him how that isn’t the truth. In his head, he can’t marry the concept of the man kneeling before him with the one torturing him. But was it really torture? Hasn’t he freed him?

Jim has to test Oswald, needs to see how far he can really take it. When Edward, the Riddler, forces his little games upon the citizens once more, Jim steps in, and makes sure there will be no more riddles to solve.

He certainly notes the brief flash of pain on the other man’s face upon receiving the news. Yet before Jim’s jealousy can spike, the expression is gone. Oswald simply takes the bit of information as if receiving the weather report.

When taking Jim to bed, he maybe fucks him just a bit harder, is a tad bit rougher than usual, but then Oswald has always liked a bit of dominance.

“I know why you did it,” he whispers, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Holding his breath, Jim waits for him to elaborate. “You feared I’d tire of you,” he declares smugly. “Exchange you for the Riddler.” Pulling Jim close, he presses a delicate kiss against his forehead. “My silly darling,” he tells him fondly, “I knew exactly I’d get my revenge once I’d let you be you.” He laughs softly at Jim’s confusion. Eyes shining brightly, he claims him again. “Don’t be afraid,” Oswald pants. “Now that you’re mine, I’ll never let you leave, never tire of you.”

The next day, Jim walks into the night again, saves a young woman from getting mugged, and feels like he has never been more beneficial to the city he vowed to protect. If only he had seen earlier how far he needs to go, he might have been able to prevent so much more, to rectify so many wrongs.

The robber bleeding out in the streets is not even nineteen years old. Jim feels a pang of guilt as he watches the light fade from his eyes. But he had a choice, didn’t he? He could have simply not robbed the poor woman.

Jim tries not to think about how a city like Gotham, a city in which the rich bathe in golden bathtubs, and the poor starve to death, probably forced his hand.

He merely turns around and runs away. Away from another corpse and away from his conscience. The next morning, the Gazette will celebrate an anonymous hero.

They all fall by Jim’s hands: the rogues, the little thugs, the worn-down mobsters, the corrupt cops.

Jim sees Harvey one day. Knows full well he isn’t better than the rest, not when he can afford again his apartment in the inner-city. He’s looking over his shoulder, clearly nervous now with a self-proclaimed hero, a vigilante, running wild. Jim knows he’s being a hypocrite here, is making a small exception, but he hasn’t any evidence to back his suspicions up, isn’t digging for it either, and of course, there’s another issue.

He remembers Harvey. It’s not a real memory, more like a vision from another life. True, the man held him back, was in his way of being who he truly was supposed to be, but looking at him, there’s a something stirring in his chest, an ache he can’t place. He swallows and tries pushing the feeling back down.

He wants to run over to him, tell him how he will never have to fear him. He doesn’t. If his colleagues knew he was collaborating with the crusader, he’d truly have a reason to grow a second pair of eyes on his back.

Jim is desperate. Two months have passed since he first set out to be the hero Oswald regards him to be and the city isn’t better off.

True, the bridges have been rebuilt, Gotham is once more connected with the mainland, nobody’s starving to death, but that would have happened anyway.

Jim is a hero. The media are praising the unknown warrior who made it his mission to keep the streets safe for the citizens to walk. Even Bruce Wayne gives a comment on his efforts, points out with a man like the Ghost , a name he had been given for his ability to flee the scenes of his crimes so quickly, his parents might still be alive. He condemns him murdering people, though.

“You’re not committing crimes, James,” Oswald scoffs when the blonde buries his head in his hands. “You’re doing what should have been done ages ago.” And then he kisses the sorrow right off his face, pulls him to bed, and takes him apart. Jim listens to him whispering sweet nothings in his ear, basks in the feeling of finally being at home.

Now, he has someone to come home to. And whatever Jim does on his crusade, Oswald won’t judge any of it, will encourage him while looking up at him with big, shining eyes. To Oswald, Jim became the hero he always saw in him, and to Jim, Oswald turned into his adoring sweetheart, the maiden waiting at the shores for him to come home.

Of course, it’s a charade, a play for both their entertainment. Oswald is no blushing virgin, and Jim is no white knight. But together, they can pretend.

The voices in Jim’s head keep getting louder each day. Yet another criminal ends up with a bullet between their eyes and the blood splatters Jim’s chest, coats his face, his lips.

He wipes it off, but he can still taste something on the tip of his tongue. The taste is not how it’s supposed to be, lacking the familiarity of salt and copper. It’s wrong in a way Jim can’t tell, nothing like blood should taste.

Staring down at the corpse, he wonders what it changes. Yesterday, he killed another one, and tomorrow he’ll probably kill one more, yet each time he takes a criminal off the streets, another man or woman takes their place as if his actions meant nothing.

Jim wipes his face once more, smacks his tongue against his teeth, but the taste won’t fade. He rolls the body over, until it’s facing the pavement, not judging him with its lifeless eyes.

He kneels down, digs his fingers into the dirt. Jim needs to feel again. As his knuckles turn white, his fingers turn bloody. He wishes he could rip out the entire pavement.

Whatever he is doing, it’s useless. And then he remembers. The real reason he wanted to become a cop, to look for evidence, to connect the dots, make arrests, and not simply shoot a murderer on sight: he wanted a real change.

Now, he’s merely taking pawns off a board while the board itself stays the same. He can remove token after token, yet if there’s an infinite supply of them, what does it matter? As a hero, a vigilante, he’s just another wild card, the game stays inevitably the same.

Yet what he always wanted to do, was changing the rules of the game, or rip away the entire board.

The cry thorn from his throat sounds like a broken howl.

Jim turns on his heel, runs home, only to throw himself into the Penguin’s waiting arms. Everything clicks into place as he remembers what this truly is, what they truly are. If Jim is a pawn, Oswald is the entire board.

The pale man rubs soothing circles against his back as he holds Jim. When their eyes meet, the blonde swallows heavily. How could he have ever forgotten? Like a spider in the center of a web, Oswald controls the entire city.

But then Jim wouldn’t or couldn’t take him down before. He had betrayed himself and this city all those years, and it had been done out of love. And even if Jim Gordon’s life had become a lie, that one bit was true.

Therefore his voice steady as he speaks, even if the sobs made it hoarse. “I taste rotten milk,” he whispers, looking terrified at the Penguin, who in turn merely sighs.

“Oh Jim,” he says. “And here I really never wanted to hurt you again.”

#gobblepot #fanfiction

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fleckcmscott · 4 years

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Watch What Happens - Chapter 6

Chapter links: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Summary: Arthur, an aspiring comedian, has struggled to find normalcy and compassion his entire life. Y/N, a hard-working paralegal and transplant to Gotham, has just been put on a case for the Wayne Foundation. When they meet, unexpected sparks fly.

Chapter warning: None

Words: 3,241

Y/N tried to avoid looking at her watch as she sat across from Matt, on the other side of his desk, taking dictation in shorthand. The last time she checked, probably five minutes ago, it was only 11:12 AM. Even as she wrote, catching every detail, her mind was willing the clock to go faster. She'd be meeting Arthur in under two hours. Her lips curved upwards at the thought of him.

Shortly after leaving him at the Newkirk station in Otisburg, after they'd gotten donuts, she'd realized the mistake she'd made in not getting his number. While it was true she'd continue to work in his area, she knew the chance she'd run into him a third time had been slim. Sure, he'd told her he lived on Anderson, wherever the hell that was, but that was it. She supposed she could have looked for his name on the buzzers of all the buildings on that street, if she was inclined to be a creep about it.

While she’d dated casually, it had been a long time since she'd experienced any sort of infatuation. She simply hadn't had time for it. In the seven or so years before she'd come to Gotham, she'd done legal work part-time and shared a house with her father, who'd been wasting away with dementia.

That had been the hardest period of her life, more difficult than her marriage amicably falling apart years prior. Her sister hadn’t been able to help much - she had a family of her own. And her mother had passed away shortly after her father’s diagnosis. It had been all on Y/N’s shoulders.

When she hadn't been at work, she'd been stuck in the daily grind of keeping her father calm, clean, and fed. It was never easy. The lack of time for herself had taken a toll on her. There were days when all she'd wanted was to be alone, but what she'd be left with was the same chores as always, and guilt for wishing it would end. When he died, she sold or donated most of her stuff and left.

Since moving, she appreciated not having anyone depend on her. Not having to answer to someone. Being on her own. Arthur had thrown a wrench into that. The feelings he’d stirred in her were unexpected. And lovely. But asking for his number then would have been leading them both on. She hadn't decided if she wanted him to pursue her - yet.

But if fate was going to throw an awkwardly charming, handsome guy at her three times, she wasn't going to argue.

The reason she'd been on that night's late train was the broken roller feed of the office photocopier. Multiple copies of motions that were over fifty pages long had to be made manually. She'd removed the high-heels from her aching feet and copied each page one by one. It had kept her aggravatingly late.

The laughter had gotten her attention, first. She'd assumed someone was having too good of a time. But when she'd seen him there, the clown with his hand over his mouth, it became obvious he was in pain. Once she saw the assholes in suits advancing on him, not helping hadn't been an option.

She'd been relieved to see Arthur again, but the circumstances made it bittersweet. The situation, the laminated card, his condition. It had clicked for her why he was shy and reserved. As soon as he'd taken off that damned wig, she'd known she would give him her business card.

"Y/N?" Matt's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Are you with me?"

She blinked. "Yeah, sorry.” Her knuckles popped as she stretched her fingers. “This letter is going on a little too long. My hand's starting to cramp.”

He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms. "Yeah, you're right. We'll come back to it later." Spinning around, he grabbed the oversize mug of coffee sitting on the bookshelf behind him. "You look at that Wayne file yet? Sorry we didn't get to it earlier in the week."

"I've actually been trying to figure out how to talk with you about it," she said, furrowing her brow.

"Well, that's an odd thing to say."

She tapped her pen against her legal pad. "I've looked at the file extensively. Mostly, it's motions back and forth for continuances, eminent domain filings, petty bickering...” Her lips twisted in a grimace. “But there wasn't evidence of anything being claimed by either party."

"Evidence?" he asked. "The buildings are deathtraps."

"Only if you read the Wayne Foundation's motions,” she countered. "I went to one of them on Saturday, and-"

Matt put his arms on his desk and leaned forward. "You what?"

Rolling her eyes, she waved his concern off. "No one saw me. Just an old lady getting her paper. It doesn't matter." She watched as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm not an architect or engineer, but those buildings aren't in the shape the foundation is claiming.

"They’ve also said the buildings are almost empty, but a lot of people still live in the one I visited." She wiggled her foot under the desk before continuing. Matt wouldn’t have a heart attack, right? "They're getting letters telling them they have to leave within ninety days or forfeit their belongings."

He tapped his hand on the desk, looking vacantly at the surface. "Do you have any of these letters?"

Hurriedly, she went to her desk to grab the file. "The woman who saw me gave me this,” she said over her shoulder. “Don't worry. She doesn't know where I work." She dug out the envelope and came back, handing it over.

Glancing at her, he took out the letter. His face remained calm as he read it. "It's not from any Wayne organization," he said. "They all have 'Wayne' in the name. I've never heard of Renew Corp."

"I know, but wouldn't this be a weird coincidence?" she asked.

After a minute or so, he stuffed the document back in the envelope. "You don't know what Renew Corp. is doing. You have one letter from one person."

Slight exasperation entered her voice. "And the fact the buildings aren't as described? I've been going to City Hall on my lunch breaks the last two days to look up code violations. Only one address had them, and that was seven years ago."

Matt nodded, wringing his hands lightly. His voice was low when he eventually spoke. "I need you to stop this inquiry."

She was stunned. "I beg your pardon? Have we met?"

"I'm serious, Y/N." He tossed the envelope in the garbage can under his desk, then looked at her. Despite what he was saying, his eyes were friendly. "We have a duty to our client. That's the Wayne Foundation, not these tenants. We can't go sniffing around on their behalf."

Heat filled her as she clenched her jaw. Disappointing didn't begin to cover how this conversation was turning out. "That wasn't what I was doing," she said, measuring her words. "I was trying to back up the foundation's claims. What do you want me to do? Provide photos of peeling paint and linoleum?"

He gestured dismissively. "You don't need to worry about that. The foundation's big enough. It'll get the land. The whole thing just needs to work its way through the courts."

Y/N flinched. "Why did you put me on this case? To do more paperwork? Why did you want me to go through it?"

"For context. You're good at your job. And, yes, it's paperwork, but it's important." He huffed. "The Wayne Foundation wants to open a medical clinic in that area. It needs to go smoothly. With all the cuts going on right now, unemployment... Think of the jobs it'll provide. The services it'll offer."

She shook her head, not answering. This was beginning to feel like the old boys network in her dinky little hometown.

After some time, Matt stood. "Let's take a break."

Taking the hint, Y/N left his office, closing the door behind her. This was the first time she'd been told to let an investigation go. She knew the Wayne Foundation was their biggest client. But it frustrated her that her firm was willing to look past what she'd found. She had enough experience in the field to witness questionable legal actions. None of them had threatened hundreds of people before.

"Hey," Patricia said from behind her desk, drawing Y/N's attention. "I heard what he said. Don't listen to him. Keep doing what you're doing.”

Y/N arched a brow at her. "I wasn't planning to stop."

“Good. He doesn't have to know." Patricia chuckled. "Well, until he does."

“I’ll remember your wise words when I’m in the unemployment line,” Y/N teased.

Patricia snorted, then folded her arms over her chest. "Now, tell me more about this date you're going on."

"I don't know if it's a date. I think it's a date." Laughing, Y/N shrugged. "I wouldn't mind it being a date." She considered her next words carefully, wanting to protect Arthur's privacy. "Like I said yesterday, I helped an acquaintance on the subway with his bags.” Y/N raised a finger when she saw Patricia’s mouth open. “And yes, before you ask, he’s good-looking. But too skinny for you, I think.” She sat on the corner of Patricia’s desk. “Anyhow, he invited me to pie to thank me. Should I bring you back a slice?"

"Don't worry about me. Just don't forget to come back." Patricia gave her a wink. “Promise?"

Y/N nodded back sharply. "Promise."

~~~~~

Before going outside, Y/N observed Arthur through the lobby windows. He was pacing between the building and the lamp post on the other side of the sidewalk. The expression on his face alternated between excitement and worry. And he was smoking like a man on his way to the gallows. It was sweet, but she wanted he'd be able to relax around her.

Letting her eyes rove over him, she saw he was wearing another loose sweater, gray this time, usual collared shirt peeking out at the top. That tan jacket. Admittedly, she was hoping he'd wear something that accentuated his narrow waist, the way his vest had on the subway. She knew she shouldn't have noticed it, given what had happened. But as they'd strolled down the street together, she hadn’t been able to help herself.

Arthur straightened and flicked away his cigarette when she stepped out, his face lighting up. "Hey." His gaze held hers. "How are you?"

"This morning was trying, but," she grinned, "the day’s much better now." The smile he wore in response was the widest she'd seen on him so far. Still bashful, but enough for her to notice his dimples and one crooked tooth. Get a grip, Y/N. She swallowed hard and pointed him to where they were headed. "There's a diner around the next corner. I've never had their pie, but I'm sure it's good."

They arrived within minutes. Arthur picked a booth for two in the corner next to a window. After removing his jacket and tossing it on the seat, he reached out to help Y/N out of her coat. And she let him.

A waitress came over immediately. "What'll you two be having?"

"Blueberry pie, please," Y/N said.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Just coffee."

When the server was out of sight, Y/N leaned forward. "How are you inviting me for pie and not ordering any?" She swatted his forearm playfully.

He moved his hands to his lap. "Sorry. I'm not usually hungry."

"You'll just have to try mine," she said. The left corner of his mouth lifted at that and he gave a slight nod.

She studied him, the small scar above his upper lip, the laugh lines on his face, the way the sunlight brought out the various tones of his chestnut locks. It was hard not to notice how stiffly he was sitting. He wanted to be there - she could see that in the way his green eyes admired her. But his body still radiated apprehension. How on earth could she ease his mind? Maybe being straightforward would be best. "Don't be anxious around me, Arthur. I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be."

His shoulders loosened a little. "I don't mean to-" He stopped abruptly when the coffee and slice of pie were delivered. Grabbing the sugar dispenser, he put three servings into his mug, concentrating on his stirring. "I'm glad you came."

It was a small sentence, but Y/N sensed the effort if had taken for him to speak it. How much work had it taken for him to ask her out yesterday? She cut a piece of her pie. "So, I know you like sweets. You're a stand-up. And you work as a clown, I guess?" After tasting it, she offered the fork to Arthur.

There was only a moment’s hesitation before he smirked and took it from her. She wondered if his fingers skimming against hers were intentional. "That's my job. I'm a party clown. But I'm thinking of focusing on my comedy more." He took a bite. "This is good."

"It’s my favorite," she said. "You should tell me a joke. I’d love to hear one."

"All right." His forehead creased in concentration. "Um. Why did the old man like having insomnia?"

Y/N chewed thoughtfully, wondering where this was going. "Hm. I don't know. Why?"

"Because he didn't have to sleep with his wife." Arthur's eyes flicked to hers, his eyebrows raised slightly.

A short, sharp laugh escaped her. The joke hadn't disappointed. And his sudden boldness surprised her. She wanted to see more of it. "That was a good one, Mr. Fleck."

His face softened at that. After a moment, he asked, "What's your job?"

"I'm a paralegal." When she tried to offer the fork to him again, he politely declined.

"What's that?" he asked.

Good. If he didn't know what her job was, he'd probably not been in any legal trouble. "I work at a law firm. Prepare for hearings and trials. Do lots of paperwork. I investigate, too, though I think it annoys my boss." A small snort escaped her. "I go to meetings. It's all very mundane."

Arthur placed another cigarette between his lips. "I don't think I could ever do a desk job."

"It's not for everyone," she said, waving his comment off. "And I work too much. But I love it." She grabbed a napkin from the nearby dispenser and wiped her mouth. "Do you have any hobbies? Besides comedy, I mean."

After lighting up and taking a deep breath, he rubbed the back of his neck. "When I'm not working, I mostly take care of - of my mother,” he said gently.

A tightness entered her chest. "I'm sorry she’s not well."

"She's been sick a long time." He rested his face on his hand. "Her disability isn't enough to cover the rent and everything, so I live with her." His fingers tapped his cheek. "It's easier that way. And with my condition..."

Unsure how to continue, or even if she should, Y/N folded her hands together on the table. "You don't owe me an explanation. I didn't mean to pry."

"No, I don’t mind." He shook his head. "It’s just- I don't talk to people a lot. Outside of work."

She tapped her foot against his under the table. "You're fine," she said. He huffed and ran a hand over his hair, toothy grin spreading across his face. Her heart quickened at that. She lowered her voice, leaning closer. "May I ask you about what was on your card? Your condition?"

“What about it?” he asked softly.

“How long have you had it?”

Arthur straightened, taking a drag off his cigarette. The smoke curled around his face as he frowned at the table. “As long as I can remember.”

She bit her lip. “Is there anyway to help?”

“Changing positions. Breathing exercises. Distraction. They don’t always.” Closing his eyes, he let out a sad chuckle. “It happens at the worst times.”

“Like on the train?”

He pushed his mug away as he signed. “Like on the train.”

Y/N felt like an ass, a well-meaning jerk. She’d been too flippant the other night when she’d told him, simply, that his laughter was “fine.” Sitting here with him, it was obvious his condition caused him distress. And now her genuine attempt at getting to know him had made him uncomfortable. The light mood when he’d picked her up had been replaced with unease. She reached out to touch the back of his left hand as it rested on the table.

His eyes shot to hers; she could hear his sharp intake of breath.

“It’s all right,” she intoned. Smiling, she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. It doesn’t bother me.”

A sad, hiccuped laugh left his throat. His thumb caressed the web between her thumb and forefinger. “Sometimes I think I imagined you. That you can’t be real.”

Y/N snickered at that. “Haven’t my questions annoyed you enough to know I’m here?”

He stamped out his cigarette in the table’s built-in ashtray, then got up. “That isn’t the word I’d use.”

After she stood, he helped her with her coat. “What word would you use?” she asked.

The sidelong glance he gave her made her blush profusely.

“Do you have to go back to work already?” The disappointment on his face was plain to see. He pulled out his wallet and placed a few dollar bills on the table.

“No, I have some extra time. Help me walk off the pie,” she said.

He grinned, clearly happy to oblige.

~~~~~

When Y/N returned to work, she leaned back on the lobby door and giggled. Dammit. She needed to pull herself together before going back to her office. Taking the stairs to the third floor would be best.

She’d enjoyed the date (it had definitely been a date) with Arthur even more than expected. After she’d expressly told him his condition wasn’t a black mark, he’d opened up. She liked hearing him speak, wondering what else was hiding under that timidity of his. He’d even tried to crack a couple more jokes. They’d been corny, not particularly funny, and she’d groaned instead of laughed. He’d looked confused at first, but he seemed to understand she was delighted.

He’d pointed out a few of his favorite spots in the district, places she wouldn’t have ever found on her own. A comedy club here, a consignment shop there. Music had come up. Surprisingly, he’d said outright that he was a good dancer. Dancing was a mystery to her. She couldn’t even clap in time. But it helped explained the grace he sometimes displayed.

At the end, when he’d accompanied her back to her firm’s building, he’d looked at her like he wanted to kiss her. He’d either been too shy or respectful to do it, and simply nodded his goodbye. Either way, that was what sealed it for her. She didn’t repeat the mistake of letting him go without getting his address and phone number.

It had been a long time since she wanted to really know someone, to lighten their day and have their presence brighten hers. It felt a little alarming - but mostly wonderful.

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @clowndaddyfleck @stephieraptorr

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x female reader #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x ofc #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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bowieandqueen11 · 5 years

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Real Monsters / 2019! Eddie Kaspbrak Imagine

Request: Hi!!! I was wondering if you could do an imagine of Eddie where the reader is pregnant and pennywise comes to get her but Eddie saves her? I hope you can if you can't it's okay! Love ya!

This is sooo cute @denise-puddin!! I hope you don’t mind the setting! <3

Saying a final goodnight to Richie as he wanders aimlessly down the hallway to his own room, his footsteps fading against the coarse red carpet and dim, flickering wall lights, Eddie clicks the door shut with a sigh.

It was a bed and breakfast that could have doubled as a set in a Kubric movie. The wallpaper had a dull tint at the peeled edges and the fragrance was mothballs and mildew. The bed had grazed the wall right back to the plaster in long grey scars. To make it even more special the light bulb was many watts too dim, the yellow light slopping lazily on the scene like a rushed painting.

‘Are you alright, pumpkin?’

‘Nothing a little lying down and cuddling won’t fix. I never thought I’d be back in this bloody town.’

You gaze through the glass towards the ever changing colour of the sky, towards the clouds that swirl like little steam boats on their infinite journey of beauty. As the duvet scratches underneath your fingertips, the pillows surrounding the bed nearly suffocating you as you leans back, drowning in their blue and purple hues, there was something akin to fear bubbling in your gut as you spent that moment gazing into the dark blue, trying to lose yourself in it.

‘Correction- you never thought we would be back in this bloody town.’

‘Honestly, I thought you’d pass out before we reached the Jade. But you’re right, we... for a while back then it felt like we would never leave this town.’

‘But look at us now, eh?’

‘Eds, are you sure you’re alright?’

‘Hey, hey apple-solutely, but isn’t that my line? Isn’t it my job to look after my beautiful, gorgeous, very pregnant wife who refused to stay home and in safety and instead came back to fight a child eating clown who nearly killed both of us over twenty years ago.’

‘What can I say, I like a challenge. I won your heart, didn’t I.’

‘Y/N!’

‘Plus, we did both make, you know, a blood oath.’

Holding out your scarred hand up towards the light, Eddie comes over to sit warily on the duvet next to you, careful not to rustle you too much as he begins to take off his jacket with tired shrugs and throw it onto the chair in the corner of the room. He opens his mouth slightly to let out a sigh, squeezing his eyes shut and hanging his head back, before he feels a flaring pain in his temple which he reaches up to rub with his thumb. However, when he feels your worried hand rubbing against the expanse of his back, scratching lightly over the blue cotton of his shirt, he tilts his head, smiling at the way you’re still fumbling in your jacket pocket for a spare inhaler after all these years. He grabs your hand, reaching up to press a warm little kiss against each part of your fingers, his grip tightening as you lay further into the bed.

‘Are we crazy, Eddie. I mean, Stanley-’

He presses a gentle finger against your lips. ‘Hush, love. Nothing’s stopped us before, nothing’s going to stop us now, okay. I promise, I’ll do the mashed potato all over that clown, especially when you need me. Nothing’s going to hurt us.’

‘Eddie, for the love of- ow! Can you move your foot?!’

All you get in response is a loud, hiccuping snore as Eddie jolts over onto his side, the heel of his foot hitting against your shin again. You sigh in frustration, trying to yank the thin blanket back up to your shoulders, but only finding empty hands as they bunch up under Eddie’s pulling arms, his nose smushed up against the pillow. Sitting up, the pale moonlight bathing the room in ghostly light through the broken blinds, you thwack him against his thigh, chuckling gently as he just murmurs slightly in his sleep. Deciding to walk a little around the room to try and soothe your mind a bit, you slide your legs over the floor, placing your feet against the oddly sticky carpet and wiggling your toes a bit, placing a comforting hand against your stomach.

‘Oh baby, I promise you’ll never have to go through what we did.’

As you smile down at your stomach for a moment, feeling Eddie’s hand reach out subconsciously in his sleep, as he had done for years, to land against the stretch of your back with a heavy thunk, you feel for a fleeting moment that everything was going to be alright. Looking up towards the moonlight that bathes your face, you, however, begin to squint in confusion, seeing a twinge of blood red plastic reading ‘I LOVE DERRY’ float past the window.

The next thing you feel isn’t the warm hands of your husband, but instead the cold claws of the clown as it’s gloved hand grabs onto your leg and yanks you down onto the floor. Trying to grab desperately onto the bed frame, you kick and yelp with muffled screams as you feel pain flare in your back, not daring to look down into the bright, dancing lights that float underneath the bed.

‘If you come with me, y/n, you can finally float. We all float down here. And soon, so will Eds.’

Finally letting out a gasping scream, the air being knocked out of your lungs again as your back cracks down onto the ground, its strength increasing, your fingernails fill with blood as they scrape against the ground, shuffling your thighs away from the blank darkness that seems to seep around you and swallow you whole.

Red. Everything went red. The next thing you feel is the sprinkling green glass of Eddie’s Perrier water bottle as he smashes it down onto Pennywise’s hand with a loud yelp, his hands tugging desperately onto yours as he falls down behind your back, tugging you both across the floor. For a moment, he doesn’t even notice the clown had given him one final bloody scratch against the cheek before receding back underneath the bed with a slow wave.

His brain went into overdrive as his heart turned ice cold and slunk into the shadows. The flames in his stomach rose up to his chest and crawled through his veins, taking over the rest of his body. Waves of fury rolled off him as the blood rose to his cheeks, the term anger barely even touching the tip of the volcano that he so clearly was in that moment.

He pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your middle. His embrace was warm, and his big, strong arms so protective and familiar that you allowed your body to sag, your muscles to become loose as your breathing began to shallow. In that embrace you felt your worries lose their keen sting and her optimism raise its head from the dirt.

“Please don’t leave me alone again.” The words hardly managed to break out as the sob’s choke in your constricting throat. Resting his chin against the top of your head, he clenches you tighter.

“I’ll never leave you again. I promise.”

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