#But you ask him to determine the amount of interest earned over a three year period at a fixed rate and he's just like

[meowmeowuchiha]

I personally headcanon that Deidara is insanely good at math, but ONLY when it pertains to his art, because to him that's the only time it matters.

Making damn near immediate calculations regarding power of an explosion + all the objects around it + locations of targets to be hit and things to avoid in order to determine exactly how shit will blow apart? So he can set off a bomb in close quarters to get his target but not severely wound himself? He's so good at that shit it's subconscious at this point

If he's asked to calculate percentages for some financial piece of bullshit from Kakuzu or something? Suddenly he's absolutely incompetent and gives a wildly incorrect estimate because he just couldn't care less and decided to spit out a random arbitrary number

Very very good at math, but only when he WANTS to be

[another-lost-mc]

a/n: this was a request and it sounded really cute. I used to watch watch F1 races as a kid and thought it'd be such a fun job to have. but then I grew up and realized I hate driving lol

➤ when MC is a professional F1 driver | the demon brothers

2.6k words | sfw | fluff & slice of life shenanigans

cw: developing relationships with the demon brothers; some angst and insecurity if you squint.

related: the dateables + mephisto edition

Lucifer is your main obstacle when you decide you want a shot at racing in this realm. You argue it��s only fair if they expect you to give up your passion and livelihood for an entire year without warning. The world of Devildom racing is dangerous and he doesn’t want (or expect) a human like you to understand that. You try to show him videos of some of your races that you have on your old phone, but he’s still skeptical of your abilities. He takes you to the local track so you can prove what you’re capable of. (His brothers, Diavolo, Barbatos and the students from Purgatory Hall show up to watch as well.) By the end of the first lap, most of them are stunned with disbelief or excited for the possibilities of living with such a talented driver. Lucifer grudgingly concedes that he underestimated you. He arranges a personal vehicle for you to use during your stay in the exchange program. He also speaks to Diavolo about your interest in continuing your racing career. The young prince agrees once he’s confident you understand the risks. 

Lucifer is your advocate and advisor at first, but over time he gradually becomes your friend. He admires your determination to make a name for yourself. He attends each race in person and pretends he’s there on official business, but it’s his own way of supporting your efforts. He’s genuinely proud of you for making such a lasting impact in the Devildom in a short amount of time. He treats you to dinner after each race and it becomes a celebratory ritual you both look forward to. He starts to crave your company when the racing season comes to an end, and he scrambles for new reasons to spend time with you. He starts asking you out for dinner—just the two of you—for no apparent reason at all. He can't explain the profound happiness that blooms in his chest when you eagerly accept.

Mammon thinks this is a fantastic opportunity. At first he assumed you were just some cute human that liked cars. But now it turns out that you actually know how to race, too? The novelty of a human racing against in the Devildom’s most competitive league is sure to draw in a bigger crowd than usual. He never bothered with betting on the races before, but your introduction to the racing league shows him the untapped potential; he can't wait to make a fortune off this! Unfortunately for him, you hear through the grapevine that he bets against you before your first race. You're annoyed and drive more aggressively than usual because of it. You already feel like you have to prove yourself, and you’re already under enough pressure without him counting on you to fail. The race finishes and you rank in the top three—it takes the Devildom sporting world by surprise. Mammon lost a fair bit of money betting against you, but he’s not angry. He admits he underestimated you and it feels like you’ve earned his respect. (He learns from his mistakes and doesn’t bet against you again.)

He’s a lot friendlier after that. He's a good engineer and likes working with his hands. When your loaner car acts up, he offers to help you with it even though you both know you can handle it yourself. He keeps you company and watches you work on it in the garage Lucifer had built. Mammon pretends he's "supervising" your work so he still has a reason to hang around. Sometimes you let him do the work for you because he looks so happy when he does. He makes a show of rolling up his sleeves and flexing his muscles before he pops the hood and leans forward to take a look at things. It's ridiculous how attractive he is when he's sweaty and covered with dirt and engine grease. 

He doesn't let anyone else drive his precious car Demonio 666 Lexura except for you. When you finally agree to his invitation to take you out on a date, he hands you the keys so you can drive it for the first time. It’s nicer and a lot faster than the car Lucifer arranged for you to use. You can tell that Mammon puts a lot of pride and care into the upkeep of his vehicle, and you’re flattered he would trust you with it when no one else has that privilege. Mammon gets a little flustered in the passenger seat because watching you drive in your date night outfit turns him on. He’s tempted to slip his hand into your lap and test how good your concentration is.

Levi doesn’t have any interest in driving outside of video games. He’s shocked at how talented you are as a racer because you’re terrible at Devil Kart. He still invites you to play games with him and it surprises him that you would waste your time with him. He's not sure how to act around you sometimes. It should be easier to interact with you the more he gets to know you. Instead, he grows even more shy and anxious and flustered all at once and he doesn't know why.

The other students at RAD start to admire you and you develop a little bit of a fan following. He gets a little jealous that you seem to bask in all the attention, but you admit to him later that a lot of your public persona is just an act. You’re scared to be yourself in the public eye, and you hate the feeling of being judged for who you are. You show him rare glimpses of the real you that no one else sees, and he realizes he likes you. He wants to be your friend, but he wants to support you too. You don't have to pretend to be someone else when you're with him. He's not a fan of sports, but in his eyes, you slowly become as important as one of his beloved idols.

He hears rumors around RAD that some of the students want to start a fan club for you. It irritates him that he didn’t think of that first, but he sets up a fan site that gets a lot of traction. His username is different from the ones he uses on other sites so it’s harder to trace it back to him. He basically runs the largest Devildom site dedicated to you and your career and its his worst-kept secret. Another fan of yours designs cute logos based off your Devildom racing nickname, and it opens the floodgates to a huge line of fan-made merchandise. Levi orders one of everything, and he knows all of his brothers have bought some that merch too. He squirms in his seat when you mention how sweet the fan club president is. You drop subtle hints that you know it’s him, but he’s too nervous to admit it. One day you ask him out to see a new movie he’s interested in, and all he can do is nod and blush furiously when you call it a date. (He doesn't even realize he's wearing one of your fan club t-shirts until after you leave his room with a bounce in your step.)

Satan didn't have much of an interest in cars or racing before you arrived. Once you break into the Devildom racing scene, he takes it upon himself to learn more about it. (Watching awkwardly from the sidelines while Lucifer his brothers fawn over you has nothing to do with his sudden interest.) He picks up the basics of car maintenance easily enough, but his main focus is the politics behind the racing industry and how the teams function. He wants you to succeed and that means finding a manager that's dedicated and organized and has a keen eye for detail. He observes how the other teams operate and quickly identifies the weak spots in their leadership. He's certain that he can do so much better than them and he’s relieved when you agree to give him a chance. 

You spend a lot of evenings working together. You give him detailed breakdowns about your career in the human world and how things operated. He makes careful notes of the things you liked and didn't like, the people on your team that helped you and the ones you butted heads with. He knows some of his brothers are suitable for roles on your team, and he's extremely critical when he begins filling the other vacant positions. He goes to the track when you practice and you appreciate his company. He takes on most of the behind-the-scenes responsibility for you so you can focus on other things, like not crashing and staying alive. He has zero tolerance for demons that badmouth you when he's in earshot, and it takes all his self-control not to tear them to pieces. Don't they realize how hard you work? Sometimes he gets frustrated when he has to control his temper, but you pat his arm and hug him or kiss his cheek for his efforts. You remind him that you appreciate him sticking up for you like no one else does; the anger inside him deflates and is replaced with something even more potent.

Asmo can’t remember the last time he felt so inspired. Here you are, the most precious little human he’s ever laid eyes on, and you’re a professional racer? He's already planning a new fashion line that’ll capitalize on the hype of your budding career—he knows the trends of the Devildom and anticipates your success before anyone else does. Your first race generates so much excitement that he sets up a corporate Devilgram account for you too. The first wave of fans start following you within minutes of your surprising race debut. Asmo goes to the track and takes pictures of you talking to Satan and the others on your team about devil-knows-what. He manages to snap a particularly fetching photo of you leaning against your car. He knows you were just pointing out something in the car’s flimsy paint job, but it makes you look intriguing and formidable and a bit sexy, too. (You roll your eyes when you see the photo on Devilgram later, but his suggestive caption under the photo about the Devildom’s hottest new ride leaves you feeling flustered the rest of the day.)

Things move very quickly once the rest of the Devildom media catches up to Asmo’s insight into your popularity. All the magazines want to interview you, and even Mephistopheles requests an interview on behalf of the RAD newspaper club. The Devilgram account Asmo runs for you skyrockets in popularity with each photo he posts. Satan offers Asmo a role on your team as your official agent and social marketing strategist. He asks Satan for some other responsibilities too: he arranges your sponsorships and endorsements, and he designs your race attire and car wrap. He’s not sure anyone else in the Devildom can capture your talent or charming good looks the way he can.

You and Asmo have some very long, heated discussions about managing your celebrity status and your personal boundaries. You maintain veto power over any interviews or photo-ops you’re uncomfortable with. You also get final approval on any licensed fashion or merchandise. (The little fan club of yours has superior merch anyway and everyone knows it.) Asmo enjoys the challenge of designing your race suit too, and he’s so proud when he shows it to you. It incorporates comfort, style and function in a way that's flattering without being provocative. There are little symbols embroidered along the sleeve cuffs and he explains what they are when your brow furrows in confusion. “Oh! The thread is imbued with protective magic. The sigils will help protect you in case you get into an accident.” He mistakes the shocked look on your face for disappointment and backtracks quickly. “I promise, it’s not cheating! Demons are more durable so most of them don’t bother using these, but I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt—“ He stumbles a little when you wrap your arms around him and mumble thank-yous into his chest. He kisses the top of your head and hugs you back just as tightly while he murmurs about how special you are.

Both of the twins end up working in the pit as part of your crew.

Beel is an obvious candidate for that physically demanding job because of his speed and strength. He didn’t know much about racing before you came to the Devildom. Your passion and his brothers’ involvement is contagious and he can’t resist getting involved too. He learns about the mechanics of caring for cars and how important the pit stop crew is to your success. He bonds with his family because they're all supporting you in their own ways. Working with his hands helps distract him from his hunger and becomes an unexpected perk of the job. You’re considerate and still make sure he has access to snacks throughout the race if he wants them, though. He can’t be there for all of your races because of scheduling conflicts with his other club obligations, but that’s when he realizes how much he likes spending time with you. He’s flattered that you find time in your busy schedule to go to his games to cheer him on too. You agree to go with him for spontaneous lunch dates when you both have time off. He takes you to new restaurants and watching your reactions to the different types of food the Devildom offers. He worries that you don't eat enough when you're so busy, and he's much happier knowing that you're well-fed.

Belphie works in the pit but his responsibilities are a bit more abstract. He volunteers for that role because his twin is there. All he needs to do is help keep Beel’s hunger-related distractions to a minimum and stay out of the way while the other demons do their jobs. He has a nice little corner where he can watch the race if he wants, but he spends most of the time sleeping. He wakes up when he senses your car is pulling up. Each time you drive away, you wave in his direction like you know he wakes up just to see you for a few brief moments.

He doesn’t like it when your fans recognize you on the street. They ask you for autographs or selfies and it’s annoying. He’s proud of you, but he hates having to compete for your attention. He makes snarky comments about your fan club but he still buys your merch—the t-shirts are soft and nice for sleeping in. He drags you to the bed in the attic for naps because he senses how exhausted you are. He makes sure that you’re not sacrificing relaxation or sleep for the sake of your career. Sometimes you dream, but it's not the nightmares that bother you. You dream about returning to the human world and living a normal life without obligations to your fans and your manager and your sponsorships. You crave a life that's completely your own again. Those dreams disturb you the most because sometimes you wish you could go back to being that person before you started on this path. Belphie listens quietly when you share your feelings in a moment of sleepy vulnerability. He doesn't judge you or laugh at you. He understands why you’d want to give up a lucrative career when it leaves you feeling weary from self-doubt and regret. Maybe one day, sooner rather than later, he can help convince you that it's okay to retire and pursue a different dream instead.

[solalunar-eclipse]

A Gift To Remember

Summary: Shadow receives a gift for his birthday that causes a series of very interesting (and often cute) events.

Word count: about 7500 words

Author’s Note: I didn’t realize today was Shadow’s birthday! At the moment I’m more than a little confused because the release dates for SA2 say everything from the 18th to the 23rd, but this seems to be the one, so here this is!

Also, to that one anon whose question about this fic I never quite managed to answer- sorry about that and I do hope you’re still here to read this!

...

The main room of Team Dark’s home was, on a normal day, at least somewhat clean- which was in and of itself surprising, considering the fact that three teenagers lived there. (It was, of course, slightly less surprising when it was noted that one of these teenagers was a giant robot, one was already a businesswoman, and one had grown up in an incredibly clean environment.)

At the moment, however, said room was currently rather less clean, instead covered in various colorful signs, streamers, balloons, and other such decorations. After all, today was a very special day.

When Shadow and Rouge had discovered they shared a birthday (or creation day for Shadow, technically), they both became infinitely more determined to celebrate it for the other’s sake. This had actually, interestingly enough, also ended up making them enjoy their own festivities more than they had in quite some time.

Omega, meanwhile, had officially decided that this was his favorite day of the year.

Over the past few days, Rouge had already received a few presents from various people she knew in the line of clothes, makeup, or jewelry- but as much as she loved gems, her favorites so far were definitely the ones Omega and Shadow had gotten for her: a laser cutter that could slice through anything and a pair of (stylish) infrared goggles, respectively.

Shadow had just opened his present from Omega, which happened to be a sword that looked very cool...but was also longer than his actual body. This wasn’t actually as big of a problem for him as might be expected, as he’d gotten used to handling weapons several times his size during the alien invasion a little while back. 

He had, however, been told rather quickly by Rouge to put it away ‘before you slice the wall in half, this place does cost money, you know!’.

Next, Rouge placed her present in his hands, but at first all Shadow could do was just stare at it. This was likely because the gift wasn’t actually wrapped, but instead consisted of a box made of wood slats and filled, oddly enough, with paper shavings. There were quite a few ribbons on it, though, in an attempt to make up for the lack of other decorations.

“I couldn’t wrap it, or else the present wouldn’t have worked.” she explained, sitting back down to watch him open it.

After prying off the top and shifting aside some of the paper pieces, the hedgehog froze.

Inside, there sat a single white chao egg.

Carefully lifting the egg out of the box, Shadow held it gingerly, as though he were afraid it might try to bite him if he wasn’t gentle enough.

“Rouge…” he began nervously. “Don’t get me wrong, I really appreciate this, but...are you sure I’m the best person to be taking care of a chao?”

“Of course, hon!” she said. “You’ve taken care of them before, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but…” Shadow protested, “...are you sure I’ll be able to do as well at home? The garden is their natural habitat…”

Omega folded his arms. “YOU ARE THE ULTIMATE LIFEFORM. OF COURSE YOU CAN RAISE A CHAO.”

“That’s right!” Rouge added. “The chao are always happy when you take care of them- this time isn’t going to be any different.”

“…I suppose so.” Shadow conceded, taking a deep breath. He began to rock the egg slowly from side to side. “Here we go-”

A crack appeared across the pristine white surface. The split spread rapidly while Shadow sat and watched, making sure not to move the egg about much. Chao had to hatch their eggs on their own- it was the way they first began to strengthen themselves. 

Rouge laughed. “See? You know exactly what you’re doing!”

Shadow studiously ignored her and continued to focus on the egg. Then, suddenly, a chirp came from inside and the whole top half came flying off.

The hybrid looked at his newborn chao...and his heart (though he’d never admit it) immediately melted. Soft, big eyes gazed up at him, an overjoyed smile on the creature’s face. It cooed happily upon seeing him give a small smile back, and he reached out and began to gently pat its head.

The chao broke into an even wider smile as its eyes closed blissfully, the little sphere above its head popping into a heart. Shadow continued to pet it, offering gentle words of praise, and might have continued like that for the next ten minutes had a camera noise from Omega not made him look up in alarm.

“ADDING IMAGE TO FILE: SHADOW BEING SOFT.” he declared, while Rouge looked on with a giant grin.

“You will do nothing of the sort-” Shadow growled, jumping to his feet, before a soft whimper from his chao stopped him. Its eyes were watery, wide and distressed, and the hybrid immediately scooped it up in his arms, holding it close. It relaxed quickly, snuggling into his chest fluff, and he shot Omega one last semi-serious glower before turning his attention back to the newborn.

Omega promptly took another picture.

…

Later that day, at the party that all of their friends had thrown for them, the chao and Shadow were nearly inseparable. It tended to rest in his lap when he was sitting or rode in between his ears whenever he stood up to get something. Eventually, though, the excitement of a new environment overwhelmed its initial nervousness, which unfortunately led to Shadow returning from the dining room with his hands full of plates of food to discover his chao crawling along the precarious edge of a bookshelf.

Suddenly, the chao’s footing slipped, and Shadow froze, unable to move or do anything- but then Sonic of all people noticed and was already there, leaping up and catching the chao before resting it snugly in his arms. “Looks like someone’s already progressed to the giving-their-owner-a-heart-attack stage, hm?” he asked, smirking at the little creature.

“Thank you.” Shadow said as his chao was returned to him, trying very hard to ignore the way his hands and Sonic’s brushed in the process.

(He’d been nursing a bit of a crush on the hero for a while now, but had decided to ignore it until it wore off. Sonic had admirers from all across the globe vying for his attention- it was absurd to think that anything could happen between them.)

…

Over the coming weeks, all three members of Team Dark made sure to rework their schedules so that someone was always home to watch over the chao- no more climbing on bookcases for the little one now. Shadow did most of the caretaking, feeding, training, cleaning, and providing Chaos Drives (mostly green) to the chao. Rouge did, however, occasionally claim she could ‘handle the extra work’ to give him some spare time and Omega even took it upon himself to watch it every so often.

Sometimes, Shadow and his chao would even cook together in the kitchen (a hobby he’d discovered he enjoyed after finding out that Rouge tended to eat takeout all the time- “You can’t live off that day in and day out- you’re not me, Rouge!”). The sight of a tiny pale blue creature determinedly lifting a bag of flour and flying it across the room was awfully cute- especially after Shadow bought it a tiny apron in what he unconvincingly claimed was an accidental purchase. 

Shadow never made accidental purchases.

As much as the hybrid took care of it, though, the chao also seemed to be helping him. He smiled more, glowered less, and generally seemed more tolerant of mistakes than he had been in the past. Nowadays, errors that would once have caused him to go off on a rant or huff about were now met with a calmer ‘it’s okay’ or an offer for help fixing it.

He often laid a hand on it in his sleep or curled around it protectively, and could easily be seen patting its head, carrying it around, or even- when he thought he was alone- nuzzling it gently. The amount of time and care he put into making sure that his chao was happy would have been astonishing to anyone who hadn’t already seen how much he cared about his friends.

It was no surprise then that, before long, Rouge and Omega woke up one morning to find the chao inside a cocoon (and also a very stressed-out Shadow).

The hedgehog promptly called in sick for the entire week- an incredible occurrence for him. He’d originally sworn that since he couldn’t get ill, he’d give his sick days to others when they needed it, but now that was all out the window. He wanted nothing more than to stay home and essentially sit and stare at the cocoon until it hatched.

While the two other members of Team Dark managed to convince him to eat, sleep, and do chores on regular intervals, whenever Shadow had a spare moment he’d stay in his room, watching and waiting. Their friends got so worried that Rouge and Omega had used everything in their power to coax him out of the house twice over those five days, but he refused to do any more. Even then his outings had to come with the promise that they’d both stay home, check it every five minutes, and call him the absolute moment something happened.

On the sixth day of waiting, the cocoon began to hatch while Shadow was attempting to discreetly read out loud to the chao from one of his favorite books. The moment he saw the split, he dropped the novel, jumped up, and shouted louder than he had in months- “Rouge! Omega! It’s HAPPENING!”

He hovered so closely around the cocoon that Omega had to physically pull him back as Rouge reminded him to give the chao more space. Within moments, the split had widened enough for a single black paw to poke out, feeling around carefully for some sort of purchase to pull itself the rest of the way outside. Soon enough, it had succeeded, earning- impressively enough- widened eyes from Omega and a gasp from both Shadow and Rouge.

Frowning light blue eyes were set in an equally grumpy (albeit adorable) face, with two little black ears and three tiny quills on the chao’s head. The ears and quills both had red stripes, as did the arms, legs, and even its tail. A red crescent shape sat on its chest, and two tiny purple bat wings flapped slowly behind it.

In short, it looked a lot like a tiny Shadow.

The hedgehog in question reached out carefully and began to pet his chao, offering some quiet words of praise, but before long it flew up and settled in its favorite spot in between his ears. When Shadow turned around to face his friends, they were met with the sight of a little glowering creature settled on top of his head…which really did look far too similar to the hybrid himself when he was irritated. 

Rouge covered a smile with both of her hands. “Shadow...hon…”

He frowned at her, only serving to make the resemblance more obvious. “What?”

“It looks exactly like you!”

“Not really- it has blue eyes and...bat wings…” He looked up at her suddenly. “Rouge...how much time have you been spending with Spark again?”

“Oh, just a little- wait, Spark?” she said quickly, redirecting his attention.

Shadow flushed a bright green at that. “I might’ve already picked out a name...does it sound alright?” he asked, studiously looking anywhere but at his friends.

The chao chirped at the name and snuggled a little further into the fur on his head, seemingly pleased with the title. 

He began to smile at that. “You like that name, do you?” he asked teasingly.

“It sure looks like it! I think it’s a lovely name, hon.” Rouge added.

The chao cooed, cementing its name with all of the team (whether Omega would admit it or not).

Now, if anything, Shadow and his chao were even more close than before. Rouge even bought it a tiny leather jacket to match his style, which was quickly deemed by everyone (especially their friends, to whom she’d sent about fifty photos) the most adorable thing ever. 

...

One day, Shadow came home from lunch out with Silver and Blaze only to discover a quite unexpected scene- though he really should have seen it coming, considering what he’d noticed after his chao had hatched. Rouge was kneeling next to the sofa, scratching Spark behind the ears and saying in what could only be described as a baby voice, “Who’s your favorite momma? Me, that’s right. That’s right, isn’t it?”

“Uh….” he interrupted, feeling more than a little uncertain as to how to respond to this. He was torn between “I didn’t know you had a baby voice” and “I’m glad to see you and Spark getting along” and wasn’t entirely sure which one to go with here.

The bat, on the other hand, jumped a good three feet in the air at the sound before glaring at Shadow furiously. “Don’t startle me like that!” she shouted, more than a little tense...and also a bit worried?

The hybrid didn’t react, instead saying “It’s nice to see you spending time with Spark too, Rouge.” with a smile. 

She relaxed a little at that, and Shadow sighed. “Rouge, I wouldn’t make fun of you- I do the same kind of thing, don’t I?”

“You’re right, you’re right.” the bat admitted. “I just had to! It looks like me- it even has my wings! How could I not?”

Shadow moved to sit down on the sofa at that, reaching out to pat the chao as well. Rouge smiled at him gratefully, and then they both looked down at the cute creature in between them, who was promptly staring up at both with a confused look on its face. After a moment, though, it seemed to realize that everything was alright and nuzzled both Mobians before curling up on the couch happily.

…

Another time, the entire team was out grocery shopping at their favorite store when Spark’s eye was caught by the soft, warm cinnamon buns sitting behind a glass case. After a minute or two of desperate pulling at the seams- to no avail- it flew over to Shadow and began to poke at his shoulder until he turned to look at it.

“Yes? What is it?” he asked, giving the chao a little scratch under the chin.

The chao pointed excitedly at the sweet treats, but its expression melted into one of dismay upon hearing him say “No, Spark, that’s not very good for you- and it’s too big for you to finish all by yourself, too.”

It mimed a clock insistently- they didn’t go to the store that often, after all- its frown deepening all the while. Shadow felt a little uncertain- he enjoyed giving the chao treats, but was now really the best time to feed it so much sugar? It could end up flying all over the place, and he really didn’t feel like getting banned from yet another grocery store. (The last one had been because Omega got a little too excited while messing around with the shopping cart and had melted it and twisted it into a knot...somehow. They were rapidly escorted out after that.)

Suddenly, though, the chao shuffled forward, took one of his fingers in between its tiny paws, and stared up at him with the softest, most pleading look it could possibly manage, its eyes wide and mouth quivering. “No...no, come on…” Shadow protested weakly, but already his resistance was melting away. It practically seemed to be saying haven’t I been good all week? Can’t I please just have this one treat? and the hybrid was in no condition to fight back.

Within moments, Spark was holding a cinnamon roll and dug into it with glee, only pausing once to nuzzle Shadow happily and offer him a quick bite as thanks. He accepted the gesture of appreciation easily (even though now his face had sugar on it after the chao’s affectionate thank-you) and was more than happy to see his chao smiling broadly with the treat in its hands.

…

The chao was, of course, still a great help to Shadow as well. One night in particular, it woke up to the sounds of quiet whimpering and began to look around, startled. For a moment, it turned to its caretaker for help- and then discovered that he was the one in trouble.

Shadow was curled up on his side, his brow creased in distress and his whole body shaking terribly. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut and occasionally the most terribly saddening sounds would escape his mouth. Once or twice, a tear escaped and trickled down his face.

Spark crawled up to his face gently, licking away the tear and nuzzling his cheek. Shadow shuddered briefly, but seemed to relax almost infinitesimally when the dark chao pressed itself against his chest for a moment. Eventually, the creature managed to get him to roll onto his back, at which point it crawled onto his chest, hoping that this would help him begin to relax.

It really did work- within moments, the small, warm weight on his chest made Shadow’s breathing even out and his shivers ease as the nightmare that was plaguing him began to fade.

Spark curled up, pleased with itself, and fell back asleep not long after.

…

There was just one problem amongst all this newly-discovered happiness that came with the chao. Ever since it had evolved out of its cocoon, Omega seemed as though he were hardly willing to interact with it.

Rouge or Shadow would hand it over to him, only to get it back less than a minute later. He spent the least amount of time with it out of the three, but when he was asked if he didn’t like the chao, he never said as much. 

Omega didn’t tend to lie...but then why wouldn’t he do anything with it?

Once or twice, they’d caught him merely staring at Spark as the little creature sat on the couch, his optics clicking but otherwise utterly silent. The two Mobians hardly knew what to make of it- he’d never acted like this before.

They finally had the opportunity to discover why he was behaving strangely several days later, though, entirely due to an accident on Shadow’s part. Rouge and Omega had been answering a distress call regarding some rogue G.U.N. robots and needed to call in the hybrid to help. He’d driven his motorbike directly to the scene and leapt straight into battle…

...and hadn’t noticed Spark peeking out of the bag he’d left on his bike.

The chao- while fast, to be sure- was in no way prepared for a full-on battle. While at first it had hoped to help its little family, flying about uncertainly in hopes of doing something, it quickly discovered that the only thing it could really do was to hide behind an upended concrete slab and hope it wasn’t noticed.

That, unfortunately, didn’t quite work out.

It didn’t take long before one of the rogue drones spotted a fourth heat signature aside from the three it was fighting and began to stalk towards it, charging its laser cannon in the process. Shadow, confused at first, felt his stomach drop in horror upon seeing his tiny chao shaking in fear as the machine advanced on its hiding spot. He hadn’t thought to bring a Chaos Emerald, believing this would be an easy battle- and Rouge was busy in the air.

The laser cannon on the drone was almost fully charged, and Shadow fired up his skates in a futile attempt to somehow reach Spark before-

A white hot blast lit up the area.

Shadow couldn’t have stopped the strangled cry that came from his mouth if he had wanted to. The smoke began to clear, and he almost couldn’t look…

Something stirred within the haze, and as it cleared away, Shadow felt his whole body sag with relief upon seeing Omega shifting to an upright position from where he’d shielded the chao with the back of his chassis, blocking the full force of the laser. He let out a sigh as he caught a glimpse of Spark held safely in Omega’s hand as the other one retracted to reveal a flamethrower.

“MY TURN.”

Within moments, the drone was just so much melted slag on the floor and the battle’s tide was turned. Shadow and Rouge dispatched the other robots and then rushed to Omega, who had held onto the chao this entire time.

“Omega...thank you.” Shadow said, taking Spark from his friend and holding it tightly.

“IT WAS- zzzt- NOTHING.” Omega said, a sudden staticky buzz splitting his sentence in two.

“Omega?” Rouge asked, her eyes narrowing. “What happened to you?”

“NOTHING.” he said hurriedly, his voice still glitching. “WAIT- DON’T YOU D-DARE-”

The three had already begun looking to see what had happened...but then froze when they saw the damage his back panel had taken while shielding Spark from the blast. A giant, smoking hole of warped and fused metal was burned into his chassis, revealing a bunch of melted and sparking wiring that definitely needed urgent attention.

“Omega…” Shadow looked horrified.

Rouge frowned, confused. “Why would you do this to yourself? I know how much you hate having to go get repairs.”

The robot let out a burst of static that sounded almost like a resigned sigh. Turning around, he muttered, “IT’S LI-LITERALLY YOU. AND ROUGE. BUT TINY. THAT APPEARS TO HAVE… STRANGE EFFECTS- zzzt- ON MY BEHAVIOR.”

“Do you...not like those effects?” Rouge asked, now clearly shifting into ‘I’m figuring things out’ mode. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding it so often?”

“I AM A ROBOT OF MASS DESTRUCTION. I AM NOT SUPPOSED TO CARE FOR TINY CREATURES SUCH AS THIS ONE. I SHOULD NOT FEEL ANY ‘WORRY’ ABOUT IT- AND YET-” Omega cut off there with a frustrated crackle.

Shadow still didn’t understand. “You’ve always been a robot of mass destruction, but you never thought it was weird to worry about us before.”

“THAT WAS DIFFERENT!” Omega insisted. “YOU BOTH ARE POWERFUL. IT IS NATURAL THAT RESPECT AND CONSEQUENTLY OTHER THINGS SHOULD COME FROM THAT. BUT THIS-! IT HAS NO DESTRUCTIVE QUALITIES! BUT STILL I...YOU KNOW...”

“It’s official, Omega.” Rouge said at that, a smirk growing on her face. “You’re becoming more and more like us...organics are always weak for cute things.”

“IT IS SHAMEFUL THAT I SHOULD COME TO THIS.” he grumbled.

“It’s not so bad, really.” Shadow said, placing a hand on his arm.

“And that’s coming from the guy who never used to admit he cares about people!” Rouge insisted. “Omega, you know you don’t have to be embarrassed about that kind of thing here- you’d never make fun of Shadow for not being tough all the time, would you?”

“I GUESS NOT…” he said, still seeming irritated.

At this point, Spark flew up to sit in Omega’s hand, looking up at the robot with its little frowning face, before reaching out and patting a single finger solemnly with its paw.

“OH NO.”

“Oh yes.” Rouge answered, grinning. “Let’s get you to Tails now though, okay? Then once you’re fixed up you can come home and pet the chao.”

Omega turned his head away and refused to dignify that with a response.

(He did, however, pet the chao when he got home. Nobody teased him about it, for which- while he’d never say it- he was rather grateful.)

…

It was inevitable, eventually, that Team Dark’s schedule wouldn’t be perfect and that they’d all have to be out and busy at some point. This, of course, meant that Spark would have to be dropped off at the chao daycare. 

Shadow had managed to force himself to reconcile with that fact, but the chao wasn’t nearly as good at that sort of thing.

On the day of, it was sobbing desperately, clinging to Shadow’s jacket with a tight grip as though it’d been handed a horrible punishment instead of a day spent at the warm, welcoming building in front of it. “It’s going to be alright. You’ll be okay, it’s just for a day. See, the Mobians who run it are very nice- won’t you look?” the hybrid whispered in a soothing voice, gently rubbing Spark’s head.

Omega stepped forward. “DON’T YOU...WANT TO SHOW HOW BRAVE YOU CAN BE?” he said awkwardly. Talking to the chao was still taking some getting used to for him, but he was definitely trying his best.

Rouge smiled warmly at that. “Of course! We’ll all be so proud of you, don’t you know that?”

“We can make a cake especially for you when you get home too, alright?” Shadow said, and that was the final thing the chao needed to hear. Wiping its eyes with a final few sniffles, it flew over to the little walkway towards the entrance and stood up tall, its body shaking slightly with leftover stress and its attempts not to cry.

“We love you!” Rouge called, blowing it a quick kiss.

“See you soon.” Shadow said gently, waving with a smile.

“YOU’LL BE THE BEST ONE THERE.” Omega added, shuffling in place a little.

The chao whimpered briefly, but then turned away and bounded into the daycare before it could lose its nerve. 

Throughout the morning, it remained relatively antisocial- a bit like the hedgehog whose appearance it had taken- during the music and karate lessons. The other chao all babbled and played together, being mostly neutral and hero-types, and the few dark chao that were there wanted to cause an awful lot more trouble than Spark was in the mood for.

One thing that it noticed very clearly, though, was the extraordinarily frustrating presence of a royal blue hero and speed-type chao.

This chao didn’t seem to think even once (let alone twice) about anything it did. It banged on the drums until Spark’s ears were sore during music class and then somehow managed to smack it in the face during karate lessons twice, and all the while it chatted away with about five other chao all around it.

Needless to say, by midday, when it was playtime, Spark had just about had enough.

When the blue chao rushed directly through the little sand city that it had been carefully building, swiping everything away with a single dash, Spark growled, picked up the plastic shovel it had been playing with, and threw it so hard it whacked the other creature in the arm.

Snarling, it began to stomp off when it felt a hand on its shoulder. The blue chao darted away and began hurriedly to try and rebuild the city, occasionally glancing up at Spark with an apologetic expression in its eyes.

It...looked awfully sad, actually.

Suddenly, the dark chao remembered how it had quickly stopped banging on the drums when the teacher had told it to, and how it had looked rather guilty when it had smacked Spark in the face, and how excited it was when talking with the other chao…

Maybe it was just a little clumsy sometimes.

Spark sighed a little. The other meant well, it decided, as its anger began to fade. It appreciated the apology...but now the sculptures were gone and it couldn’t get them back. Then, though, its gaze fell upon a pair of toy cars sitting nearby. 

Pulling the blue chao over to a strip of flat, packed earth nearby, it gave one car to its surprised companion and then set its own down at a line that could work quite well as the start of a race.

Soon enough, the other creature worked out the idea and began to cheer with delight, and before long they were racing cars like they’d been friends since the start. Eventually, they even switched to running races themselves, over and over again until they were all worn out and collapsed on the cool grass in a heap. Before long, though, they were up and at it again, only this time they started with a building game, and then had a little fun with the musical instruments, and soon enough Spark couldn’t help but wonder how they had ever fought in the first place.

Eventually, they decided that their next activity would be a race to the top of the jungle gym they noticed nearby. Spark was determined not to lose as it scrambled up the bars. It pulled itself paw over paw up the structure, getting closer and closer to the top, until-

Suddenly, a bar that it had been sure existed in front of it only a moment ago was now clearly just a little too far away, and the mistake caused it to reel forward, desperately clinging to the slippery bar it sat on. It twisted head over heels until it slid and fell all the way back to the ground, the wind slammed forcefully out of its little lungs.

Spark gasped soundlessly, trying and failing to pull air back into itself. After several agonizing seconds, it finally caught its breath- and then nearly got it knocked back out again by the impact of its new friend.

Regaining focus, the dark chao realized with a start that its friend was practically wailing into its chest, the soft blue creature shaking with desperate, panicked sobs. It looked up quickly, its eyes swollen and teary, and then reached out with its paws and hurriedly patted Spark’s body down, as though to reassure itself that the dark chao was still there. 

The creature in question sat up and pulled its friend into a tight hug, feeling nothing less than awful as the blue chao sniffled and whimpered worriedly in its arms. Eventually, it managed to calm down enough to amble over to a small nest made of blankets especially for tired chao and lay down there next to Spark. The two chao curled up together, nuzzling gently as the shaky breaths of the blue one finally evened out.

Spark felt the little ball over its head pop into a heart shape, and noticed briefly that its friend had done the same. They remained curled up like that for the last half-hour or so of their time in the daycare, alternately simply cuddling or talking about their respective owners.

Spark hoped they’d get to spend more time with this friend of theirs soon.

…

Shadow pulled up to the daycare on his motorcycle at closing time, doing his best to smooth out his frazzled quills. It wouldn’t be very good to let his chao know that he’d been nearly as worried about it as it had felt itself. 

He sighed, making his way towards the entrance of the building- and instantly felt the last wisps of his composure vanish upon seeing Sonic standing just inside. Before he could panic and flee the area at top speed, his legs (which didn’t seem to have received the message just yet) carried him through the door and inside.

Almost immediately, the blue hedgehog turned to face him with a bright smile. “Oh! Hey, Shadow!” Sonic said happily. “I didn’t know you brought your chao here, too! I’ve gotta say hi to the little guy again sometime!”

“This is my first time bringing it here. If it’s alright with that…I suppose you may.” the hybrid said, trying his best to sound coherent and cool (but actually just seeming stiff and awkward).

They talked for a little while as they waited for their chao to come out, chatting about their lives and friends. More than once, Shadow had to pinch himself in order to stay focused. His mind kept threatening to wander off into dreamland when he was around the hero, ready to admire his many great qualities (and wonderful appearance) at the drop of a hat.

Eventually, though, he became a bit worried by the fact that chao after chao were wandering out through the playroom door, being collected, and leaving…but neither Spark nor Sonic’s chao had even showed up. Soon enough, the two decided to walk into the room and find their tiny charges themselves.

“Uh, hi, mixter!” Sonic greeted the leopard who ran the daycare. “Didja see my lil’ buddy somewhere around here?”

“Oh, hello Sonic!” they said brightly- clearly the hero had been to this place quite a few times before. “Yes, your chao is over there in that nest there, sorry. I just hated to disturb those two…”

Shadow frowned. Those two?

His question was promptly answered when Sonic whisked aside the blanket covering the nest, only for both of them to stare at the sight inside.

Two purring chao, one clearly Sonic’s and the other obviously Shadow’s, were snuggled up together with big hearts floating over their heads. Even the hybrid’s dark chao, notorious for its ever-present frown, looked completely at peace with a small smile on its face.

He tried his best not to freak out.

“Erm…” Shadow began eloquently.

“Uh…” Sonic replied.

The two chao perked up at this, looking happily at their owners before nuzzling gently together in a manner that made Shadow’s stomach leap into his throat and then crash straight through the floor. In a further twist (both in events and in the striped hedgehog’s internal organs), Sonic’s chao then leapt happily into his arms, leaving Shadow to stare at the tiny version of his crush cuddling into his chest fur.

He sincerely hoped there was a convenient couch nearby for him to sit down on.

“Blu- come on-” Sonic began, looking oddly panicked for some reason, but then Spark sprang eagerly onto his shoulder and the hero rapidly fell silent as the dark chao nudged his cheek.

The two hedgehogs stared at each other for a long time. Shadow tried to move or do something other than just stand there, but it was awfully difficult when the hero was looking at him with those wide, soft green eyes….

“Er…Sonic?” Shadow finally choked out, in an odd, strained sort of tone.

“Yeah?”

“I think I’d like my chao back now.”

“Yeah.”

They each handed over their respective creatures, though Shadow felt rather reluctant to let such a tiny version of Sonic out of his arms. And for a moment he could almost have sworn that the hero held Spark a little longer than necessary, too…

…

Once he got home, the hybrid collapsed onto the couch and covered his eyes briefly with a hand. Spark, who had at first rushed into the kitchen (not having forgotten the promise of cake), came back and began to tug on his arm briefly before realizing that maybe Shadow wasn’t quite up to doing much of anything at the moment.

Rouge and Omega walked in just a moment later, their work having ended a little after Shadow’s. Upon seeing him slumped on the furniture, though, their greetings were cut short and instead replaced by worried questions.

Shadow sighed. “Spark...just spent a bunch of time cuddling with Sonic’s chao. And he noticed.”

“And that’s a good thing, hon.” Rouge shot back, having resisted a facepalm the moment she realized what all this was about.

“It is not!” the hedgehog cried out, before realizing that Spark was more than a little stressed by his tone of voice. “I’m not mad at you, don’t worry, it’s just...I already make enough of a fool of myself around him on my own. He’ll figure it out soon enough if we keep this up.”

“SO LET HIM.” Omega said. “EITHER HE STARTS DATING YOU OR HE’S AN IDIOT.”

Shadow blushed furiously. “It doesn’t work like that!”

“EXCEPT WHEN IT DOES.”

“Why don’t you tell him, hon?” Rouge asked. “I mean…” and here she developed a devious smile, “...didn’t his chao technically also act all affectionate with yours?”

The hybrid’s ears were bright green by now. “He’s nice to everyone, Rouge.”

At this point, Spark- who had left temporarily to get a pencil and paper- held up a drawing it had made of the scene at the jungle gym earlier. Shadow, of course, immediately began fussing over his chao, checking for any bruises or scrapes, but the bat in particular saw something entirely different.

“Kinda...reminds me of what happened on Space Colony ARK.” she mused. 

Shadow’s head shot up at that. “What?”

Rouge smirked, but it was bittersweet this time. “Your fall...it really hurt him too, y’know? He didn’t go out in public for a long time after that.”

“He...he never mentioned that to me…”

“He wouldn’t have!” she said. “Sonic isn’t the type to ‘bother’ others with his feelings.” Rouge explained, doing air quotes at one point.

“HE ALSO STARES AT YOU WHEN YOU ARE NOT LOOKING.”

“He what?!” By now Shadow had been reduced to just looking back and forth between his two friends. 

Spark flew in front of Shadow’s face and began to mime something. First pointing at Shadow, then a heart, then talking, then a hedgehog with all its quills pointed down…

“No! I can’t just tell him!”

“We’re hanging out with his team next week at the park- you should do it then.” Rouge replied, ignoring the last thing he’d just said.

“Did you not hear me, I can’t-”

“YOU WILL NEED SOMETHING NICE TO WEAR.” Omega said loudly over the rest of his sentence.

Spark cheered approvingly.

“So...you three have just decided for me whether or not I’m going to confess to Sonic.” Shadow sighed, beginning to resign himself to the fact.

“Absolutely, hon!” Rouge said brightly, slipping an arm around his shoulders.

He glowered at all three of them, but it lacked any real malice. “Alright, I’ll play along...for now.” he grumbled.

“EXCELLENT. LET THE PLANNING COMMENCE.”

…

One week later, Shadow was standing in the middle of a patch of grass, feeling like his knees were about to buckle as sweat trickled through his quills. He was no longer resigned to telling Sonic about his feelings and was in fact considering jumping into the nearby lake and hiding there for the duration of the hangout. His stomach- along with whatever scraps of resolve he may have had- were currently all the way back at their house.

On top of all that, he was frankly surprised he didn’t just spontaneously burst into flames when the other three Mobians showed up, Sonic in the lead.

“Hey guys!” he said excitedly. “Long time no see!”

Rouge snickered a bit at his catchphrase (it was one of many) but Shadow just felt his ears burn. He was just so cute and cheesy and already the hybrid’s mind was devolving into a mushy mess.

“Rouge, Omega.” he greeted them each, but he seemed to pause for a second on the last name. “...Shadow.”

The hedgehog in question thankfully managed a reply, and then the fun began in earnest. Knuckles and Shadow competed in several arm-wrestling matches with narration from Tails (“...aaaand Knuckles looks like he’s in the lead!”) and commentary from Omega (“YOU’RE LUCKY I DON’T ARM-WRESTLE OR ELSE BOTH OF YOUR ARMS WOULD BE BROKEN.”). Rouge and Sonic were busy pranking other innocent people, though once in a while the latter would look over at the competition, distracted.

Eventually, Tails and Omega got bored- which of course meant Knuckles and Shadow had to play the role of caretaker (“No, you can’t blow up trees. No, not even for ‘science’.”) for a little while.

At one point, though, Rouge got bored with the pranks and had dragged the echidna off to a park bench and was now flirting with him enough to turn his face as red as his spines. Tails had promised to behave- which now meant that he was halfheartedly attempting to convince Omega not to modify his cannon to launch ducks from the nearby pond- leaving Sonic and Shadow to themselves. Blu and Spark had been playing in the grass all this time (since both of them had brought their chao without really realizing that the other would do the same), and Shadow had very definitely not been thinking about how lucky his chao was that emotions were easy for it.

He remembered the talk his friends had given him before this outing then and wondered if maybe, just maybe, it could be that easy. Before he could stop himself, he’d already spoken.

“...Sonic?”

“Yeah?” the hero asked, turning to face Shadow.

“I...wanted to talk to you about something.” he said, regretting everything already because look how stupid he was about to seem...yet Shadow Robotnik the Hedgehog had never been one to do things by halves.

“Oh, really?” Sonic said, and now he almost looked relieved, for some reason. “I, uh, was actually hoping to do the same. That’s cool, what is it?”

“No, no, you go first.” Shadow urged him, hoping that he’d take the offer.

Unfortunately, today was not his lucky day. “No, man, you asked first! Go ahead, what was it?”

“Really- it’s fine.”

“No, you had something you wanted to say!” Sonic insisted.

“It’s okay, I swear-”

“Well, I guess-”

“I mean, if you want-”

“Okay-”

“You see-”

“I like you!”

Both hedgehogs shouted the words at the exact same time, before freezing and staring at each other.

“Wait…” Shadow began.

Sonic’s eyes were wide. “You like me back?!?” he gasped, hands flying up to his mouth.

“...yes.” he admitted, looking off to the side in embarrassment. Then it hit him. “Wait. You like me back?”

“Of course! How could I not?” Sonic asked incredulously. “You’re smart, funny, nice-” He’d begun listing off attributes while counting on his fingers, but cut himself off upon noticing Shadow’s confusion.

“Yes, but you’re a hero. The world’s hero.” Shadow began to frown, staring at the grass. “Why would you settle for someone like-”

“No.” Sonic growled, and the hybrid looked up suddenly to see his face twisted in anger. “Don’t ever say that.”

“But everyone thinks it…” Shadow protested weakly.

“Yeah, well, ‘everyone’ isn’t part of my love life.” Sonic assumed a slightly less aggressive stance, placing a hand on his hip. “Whoever’s been telling you that can either leave you alone or get their face introduced to my sneakers.”

Shadow blushed. “Nobody needed to. I just assumed...but perhaps I shouldn’t have.” he added quickly, seeing the hero begin to glower again. 

“That’s right!” he said, zipping over to stand directly in front of Shadow. “No assumptions here- talk to me from now on if something’s worryin’ you, ‘kay?”

Then, he seemed to notice the sudden stiffness in the hybrid’s posture, as well as the green flush slowly creeping up his ears. Sonic leaned forward with a smirk, resting his forearm on Shadow’s shoulder. “Thinkin’ about something?”

Shadow gulped.

For once, he decided that he could do what he wanted. So, he slowly reached up a hand and touched the peach fur on Sonic’s arm gently, like it was the most delicate thing in the world. 

Rather more quickly, Sonic turned a shade of bright red to rival Omega’s paint job.

“So, uh…” he began, his voice shaky. “Erm...do ya feel like sitting under that tree? Together?”

Shadow agreed, and the two walked over to the shady patch, sitting down and resting against each other. Soon enough, though, Sonic turned to face Shadow, a little nervous. “Do we, like, need to talk about this? Figure out...what to do about…us?” He started turning pink again.

“Maybe later. We have a lot of time, after all.” Shadow said, trying to contain the soaring feeling inside when Sonic said ‘us’- until he realized that he didn’t have to any longer.

“What’re you smiling about?”

“You. And me. Together.” Shadow said simply, making Sonic laugh and snuggle up against him, resting his head on a black-furred shoulder.

“Wow. That’s, uh….that’s new. I really like it though.”

Then, the hero looked up at him. “I really like you, too.”

At this point, a loud whistle could be heard from Rouge, who was standing not too far off and had likely heard a lot of what they’d said. Sonic just giggled, while Shadow shot her a death glare. She just winked and mouthed I’ll keep them occupied, at which point the hybrid tried not to show how very much he appreciated that and failed miserably.

And Sonic was purring now. Which of course meant that every single brain cell in Shadow’s head was promptly dead for the next five minutes.

After he’d recovered from that, Shadow wrapped his arms tightly around his...boyfriend? Maybe? He thought for a moment. “Hey, Sonic?”

“Yeah?”

“How do you feel about being my-” Shadow paused briefly to cough, trying to get the words out- “-boyfriend?”

“I think I like that a lot.”

Shadow smiled warmly, feeling the beginnings of a purr rise up in his own chest.

“I like that a lot, too. Almost as much as I like you.”

[triptuckers]

New In Town (part three) - Kaz Brekker

Request: nope Pairing: Kaz Brekker x reader Summary: after hearing an interesting conversation in the pub you work at, you're determined to find out more Warnings:  none Word count: 2.3K A/N: thinking about a video someone sent me on twitter of freddy saying the quote on bottling inej' laugh..... yea <3 enjoy reading! PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART TAG LIST (all grishaverse fics): @ayushmitadutta @mrs-brekker15@dancingwith-sunflowers @thegirlwiththeimpala @parker-natasha@story-scribbler @romanoffstarkovs@daliareads@meiitanoia @itsnotquimey @sanktaesperanza @whymyparentscheckmyphone @aleksanderwh0r3 @ilovemarvelanne1 @marlenaisnthappy @brekker-zenik @just-deka @Graceknxwlson @the-very-tired-mess TAG LIST (Kaz Brekker): @mufnasa @janesofia7 @stairscortana @parker-natasha @illicitghosts @brick-by-brick553 add yourself to my tag lists here

When all of the customers have piled out of the pub, and you're cleaning the tables, you can't stop thinking over Jesper and Kaz' conversation.

If only you knew what gang they were part of, you could have easily snuck into their main building. You needed to find out exactly when this party was going to take place, if you wanted to steal the necklace.

You tried to think of any other way to find out the date and location of the party. You hadn't heard any other customers talking about it, so you guessed it was a party reserved only for the elite. And Ketterdam's finest didn't come to a somewhat dirty little pub like the one you work in.

You had to be smart about this. Maybe if Jesper or Kaz came back, you could try to follow them. Find out where they were meeting, what gang they are.

And if that didn't work, you'd just have to find some dirt on them and use it to your advantage. You'd done it countless of times before. Though this was an entirely new city, with new potential targets and clients, you are confident you can pull this off.

You have to, if you ever want to be able to rent a clean room, preferably one not directly above a pub.

But it looks like your luck has decided to abandon you. In the next three days, you don't see Jesper or Kaz in the pub. You even take on extra shifts, claiming you just want to earn more money. When in reality, you are on the lookout for either one of them.

They don't show up. And you have no way of telling if the party already took place or not.

On the fourth night, your gaze is fixed on the door again as you're working. Finally, your coworker steps closer to you.

'Did you like those two that much?' she says.

'Huh?' you say. You'd been so lost in your thoughts you hadn't heard her approach you.

'I'll take that as a yes.' she says. 'That tall one was cute. The other one gave me some creepy vibes.'

'What are you talking about?' you ask her.

'Those two that came by a couple of days ago. You kept hovering by their table, and you've been daydreaming ever since.' she says, smirking at you.

You laugh and shove her away. If only she knew the real reason why you had been hovering around their table. You decide to try if maybe she knows about the party. You doubt it, but there's no knowing unless you try.

'Hey, are there any good parties around here?' you say. 'I've yet to explore Ketterdam's night life.'

'Well, there are some.' she says. 'But most of the fancy ones take place at some merchants house. We'd never get in.'

'Sounds like one hell of a party, then.' you say.

'Oh, they're the best. On nights like those, you can see them all dressed up in their best clothes, jewellery all over the place. It's quite impressive.' she says.

'Hmm.' you hum. You hadn't seen a scene like that, so the party probably hadn't taken place yet.

'The merchants' wives have a new gown for every party.' she says.

'Really?' you say, genuinely surprised that they do. Surely you could spend your money on better things than a gown you'd only wear once.

'Uh-huh, they never wear the same thing twice. The other day, I was in one of those expensive stores to pick up an order for my aunt, and one of them was there. She kept raging on about how her dress wasn't going to be ready in time for a party.' she says.

This gets your full attention. Maybe this was about the party Jesper and Kaz were talking about.

'Was she really mad?' you say, pressing on.

'Furious.' says your coworker. 'She said that if her dress wasn't ready by Tuesday morning, because the party is that night, she'd never come to the store again.'

'Huh, what an attitude.' you say, trying to hide your gratitude for finally finding out the date of the party. All that was left was the location, and which wife exactly would be wearing the priceless necklace. But at least you got one piece of the puzzle.

'You really should have heard her. She kept yelling she couldn't possibly show up to Christensen manor without a new dress.' she says.

'Christensen manor?' you say, hoping you don't sound too curious. But apparently, your coworker loves gossiping way, as she nods eagerly.

'He's one of the richest merchants around. He's the one hosting the party. Rumour goes the ring he always wears is worth so much money, it could buy half of Ketterdam.' she says.

You snort. 'Half of Ketterdam? That seems a little too much.' you say.

'Oh, you'd be surprised.' she says. 'His family is always nearly sinking to the floor with the amount of jewellery they wear. They like to show everyone just how much money they have.'

'Aren't they afraid it gets stolen?' you say.

She shakes her head. 'They have too much security for that. Even the gangs back in the Barrel wouldn't dare to pull off such a daring stunt.' she says.

You smile to yourself. If only she knew at least five gang members were planning exactly that.

The two of you look up when a bell rings, signalling the end of your shift.

'That's my cue.' you say. 'You sure you're gonna be alright out here?'

'I'll manage. Go and get some rest.' she says.

'Alright, goodnight.' you say.

She waves at you as you walk toward the stairs to go to your room. To her, it seemed like you were just gossiping away. Little did your coworker know she'd given you exactly the information you needed. Maybe working at a pub turned out to be useful after all.

So the party would take place on Tuesday night, at Christensen manor. And his wife would most likely be the one to wear the necklace, if they parade around with their riches so much.

All you had to do was make sure you arrive before Jesper and Kaz do. You'd worked your way through more difficult plans, you could handle this.

When you wake up on Tuesday morning, you get dressed quickly and sneak out of the pub without being seen. You're grateful you bought loose pants with a lot of pockets.

You've hidden your gun in your pants, and your knives are strapped around your thighs. You didn't expect there to be an escalation, but you liked to be prepared.

You arrive at the manor, which looks abandoned. There are no lights on yet, but then again it's barely dawn. The reason why you came here so early is so you could inspect the building.

There are at least four different escape routes you can see. But you didn't know if you woud still have access to them when the manor is swarming with drunk party guests. And guard. And, of course, a few disguised gang members.

You pick out a spot in an alley across from the manor, and wait.

When you first stared doing jobs like this one, you didn't have patience at all. It caused you to be sloppy, to make mistakes and miss opportunities. But over the years, you learned that patience is a valuable ally.

You sit in the alley for hours, eating the food you'd brought with you. You're observing the manor, watching as servants come and go in order to prepare the party that would take place later that day.

When the sun starts to go down, the party guests arrive. Your coworker had been right; they're all dressed in expensive looking clothes in the brightest colours. Jewellery shines on their ears, around their necks, on their fingers and wrists.

You're lucky you're patient. Otherwise you would have simply snatched a less valuable necklace. But you had your eyes set on a prize, and you're determined.

When most of the party guests have entered the manor, you sneak closer and enter through the door the servants had used all day. Luckily, there's no one in the room you enter.

All you have to do is follow the music to the main area, and find the merchant's wife. Easy.

You make your way through the hallways, occasionally stopping to take cover when you hear someone approaching. Finally, you make it to the room where the music is the loudest.

People are laughing, drinking and dancing. You'd love to be part of that life some day. To just spend your days dancing with your friends, playing dress up. But that kind of life would have to wait.

You scan the room from where you are standing, and spot a couple dancing in the middle of the room.

They're dressed in colours so bright they seem to light up the room. The woman is nearly entirely covered in shining gemstones. And on her chest rests a heavy necklace, a large diamond dangling from it.

You look around the room, but don't spot Jesper or Kaz. They aren't here yet, or you just hadn't seen them. You had to be careful. They knew what you looked like. And as soon as they caught sight of you, you didn't doubt they would tell their companions.

Behind you, a servant approaches with a tray laden with glasses of wine. You smile and walk up to him.

'I'll take it from here, Christensen said you could take a break.' you say, holding your hands out to take over the tray.

It surprises you how easily he hands it over to you. Was working at a party really that bad you'd take the first change of getting a break you got?

You don't have time to question it. You have to move quickly if you want to be out before the gang members arrive.

You manoeuvre your way through the crowd, and most people don't even seem to notice you're not wearing a servant's uniform. Maybe they're too drunk to notice. Or maybe they just don't care.

After spotting Christensen and his wife again, you make your way toward them. The music stops just about the same time as you reach them.

Before the next song starts, you make yourself trip, spilling wine all over Christensen's wife.

She lets out a yelp of surprise when the red liquid stains her dress. She furiously turns at you and you're quick to put on a shocked face.

'I am so sorry, my lady.' you say. 'I tripped, oh Saints, I'm so sorry.'

'Watch where you're going!' she says. 'You ruined my dress.'

'I'm sorry, I'll help you clean it up.' you say.

'You better.' says the merchant, Christensen, as he roughly takes a hold of your arm and pushes you to follow his wife out of the room.

You keep your eyes down as you follow her through the halls. She opens door after door, muttering to herself about useless servants. She stops when you've entered a bedroom.

She opens another door to reveal a bathroom. When she sees her dress in the mirror, she glares at you.

'I haven't seen you here before.' she says.

'I'm new.' you say, keeping your eyes on the floor.

'New and clumsy.' she says. 'Wait here while I change.'

She takes off her jewellery and shoes before disappearing in the bathroom, closing the door. You don't know how much time you have, so you move quickly.

You grab a hold of the necklace and shove it into one of your coat pockets. You're debating wether or not you can go back the same way you got here, but then you hear footsteps approaching.

You whirl around, and spot a window. You could climb down and get as far away from the manor as possible.

With three big steps, you make it to the window and open it. You carefully climb through the window and being to work your way down to the street.

Just when your feet hit the ground, you hear the merchant's wife scream.

'Thief!' she screams. 'I've been robbed!'

You smile as you start jogging toward the street, to go back to the pub. When you round the corner of the manor, you see a few people making their way toward it.

Two guards and three people dressed as elaborately as the other guests. For a split second, you wonder why three guests would be accompanied by two guards, but then you remember Jesper and Kaz' hushed conversation.

A grin starts to spread across your face. You'd been fast enough. They'd go in only to discover there was no necklace to steal.

You walk across the street, keeping your head down. In the distance, you hear the woman still screaming. She had made it to the main party room.

'My necklace!' she yells. 'That damned servant took it! Find her!'

You see the small group of people outside the manor stop, and turn to each other. You can tell they're confused as they talk to one another. Probably wondering what the odds were someone else would steal the necklace they had their eyes on.

They're all looking at each other, except for Kaz. You can see even more clearly now he's the leader. Instead of looking at his companions, he's suspiciously looking around, his eyes scanning the dark streets around the manor.

You smile to yourself and disappear into the shadows. If you had it your way, he'd never find out you'd outsmarted him.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[valwentinefics]

First Impressions - Helmut Zemo x Reader (Pride and Prejudice AU) Part 1

The news of a new inhabitant of Netherfield Park has your family excited to meet the rich and single man Mr. Barnes at the upcoming ball. While there you come face to face with his friend, the Sokovian Baron named Helmut Zemo, who seems like he’d rather be anywhere else.

A/n: First part woo! This part was mostly based on the 2005 movie, the next part will follow the book more. I also won’t be doing such accurate lines in the future unless you guys tell me you want me to, I just felt like I should in this to set things up better. I’m also just slapping in marvel characters where I can, I hope you guys don’t mind!

Series Masterlist

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. This opinion was held by the community for the newest inhabitant of Netherfield Park, despite not knowing his opinion on the matter, and the mothers in each of the surrounding families had their hearts set on ensuring that one of their daughters would be the one to stake their claim on the man.

Your chilly hands held a weathered book as you entered the small house, abandoning the crisp and fresh spring air for the warmer indoor air that always seemed to smell slightly of flour. You often read outside while walking, a way to enjoy your hobbies of walking and reading as well as relax in the quiet spring air without your often giggling horde of sisters to interrupt your thoughts as they were doing now.

Your eyes looked to the group of girls gathered outside the door to your father’s study, ears pressed against the wood. You gently bonked your sister Natasha on the head with your book when you saw her straining to hear whatever conversation was happening in the room.

“It’s not polite to eavesdrop Natasha.” You scolded your older sister who’s beautiful face turned to a pout at your words. Although you were only the second child you often felt as if you were the oldest.

“Y/n this is different! Mother says Netherfield Park has let at last. It has a young, wealthy, and single inhabitant!” She protested, making you hesitate your retort.

Normally you were not one to indulge in your mother’s gossip about men, but the news piqued your interest. It was no secret to you or your sisters that your family was not doing well when it came to money. With your father aging more by the day and a cousin you hardly contacted set to inherit the property and everything on it once he died, things were not looking good. It was due to this that your mother was frantic when it came to setting up her daughters with suitable husbands. You sighed and pressed your ear to the door, knowing your mother was likely to attempt to set you or one of your sisters up with this newcomer, you were hoping to figure out some things about him before she did.

“How does his fortune affect our girls?” You heard your father, Mr. L/n, ask. You knew he knew the answer, your father was an intelligent man, he just found great enjoyment in pushing at your mothers buttons.

“Mr. L/n!” Mrs. L/n’s exasperated cry could be heard clearer than anything else that had been said earlier. It was as if she wanted the whole world to hear of her plights. “You know it matters because I intend to marry one of them to him!” Marriage seemed to be the only thing on your mothers mind, it was as if she was put on the earth for the sole purpose of getting you and your sisters a husband with good connections.

“Does the man get a choice in this?” You could hear your father chuckle and you had to bite back your own.

“The odds are in our favour with the amount of daughters we have, he very well might fall in love with one of them, which is why you must go see him at once!” Mrs. L/n pleaded, earning a sigh from Mr. L/n.

“You and the girls can go, or you can send them by themselves. Perhaps the latter will work out better, for you are as handsome as any of them. This Mr. Barnes may like you the best of the party if you are in attendance.” He flattered her. You knew it was a mix of sincerity and a way to distract her from her nagging. If nagging was something people could compete in, your mother would likely be world renowned for her skill. 

“My dear, you flatter me. I have had my fair share of beauty, however it is nothing extraordinary now.” Mrs. L/n paused for a second before seeming to remember her mission. “But Mr. L/n, You must visit him! Think of our daughters!”

The door opened, causing your sister Peggy to nearly fall to the ground, caught by your other sister Carol. The greying Mr. L/n smiled at the group of girls gathered outside the door before walking past them, chased by Mrs. L/n.

“Mr. L/n! Mr. L/n! Are you listening to me?” She called out as she followed him.

The older man paused, turning around to look at his wife and daughters who had followed them both. “I don’t see why I must go visit Mr. Barnes for a second time.” A sly grin spread onto his face.

“A second time?” Mrs. L/n gasped. “Oh, how could you tease me? Have you no compassion for my poor nerves?”

“On the contrary my dear, I have the utmost respect for them. They are my old friends, I’ve dealt with them countless times over the years.” He teased, earning an eye roll from his wife.

“Will he be attending the ball tomorrow?” Spoke up Sharon, excitement clearly shown on her face as she looked at your father expectantly.

“I believe so.” Mr. L/n replied, sitting down and watching as your sisters exploded with joy, chattering loudly about what they would wear and pestering him with questions about what the man was like.

You couldn’t help but smile and find yourself excited for the event. It had been a while since you last attended a ball and you looked forward to looking good and getting to see the strange new man. Netherfield Park was an amazing property, and you had heard many good things about the library of the place. The new tenant Mr. Barnes was likely to be an avid reader because of it, and if he was perhaps you could find a friend in him. 

A friend was all you were interested in. Whenever the topic of marriage came up you found yourself zoning out, much to your mothers dismay. Men were either too cocky or too daft, and always too easy to figure out. You wanted someone with substance, someone intelligent enough to keep his cards close to him, whose character you couldn’t figure out as easily as the rest. It would take characteristics like that for you to even begin to grow interest in a man, and even then only the deepest, truest love could persuade you into the chains of matrimony. 

-

The jovial air of the ball made a smile appear on your face as you stood in the corner of the room with Natasha and Wanda Maximoff. Wanda was your very close and trusted friend despite being seven years older than you. Your mother often would go on rants about how you would end up just like her, an unmarried burden to your parents at twenty seven, but you ignored it. Your eyes were trained on the dancing people, your foot slightly tapping to the sound of the music until it suddenly stopped. Your attention snapped to the entrance of the room, spotting three newcomers, two men and a woman. 

“The man with the blue eyes is Mr. James Barnes and the woman is his sister Miss. Rebecca Barnes.” Wanda explained, noticing you and your sister’s confusion. Her father had brought her family to Netherfield to introduce themselves earlier.

“And the man with the bad attitude?” You asked, examining the man accompanying the two. He didn’t seem too happy to be here. He was extremely put together, not a hair out of place and his posture exuding importance. His brown eyes looked around the room, making those who they landed on wonder what they did to deserve the piercing look.

“Baron Helmut Zemo.” Wanda explained. “He comes from Sokovia, rumors say he owns about half of the country.” Your eyes hardened, assuming his reason for being so unimpressed with being in the room must have something to do with his wealth and not wanting to be around so many common people.

“The miserable half of Sokovia clearly.” You scoffed, unable to rip your eyes from him. He would have been attractive if not for the ill temper he seemed to have.

Wanda and Natasha laughed at your comment, the music soon resuming once the group made their way to the other end of the room. You couldn’t help but stare at them, your attention mostly on Baron Zemo as he spoke to no one, despite the Barnes siblings who he had come with mingling with others.

You felt a hand grab your arm and you turned your head to face the person, realizing it was your mother. “Y/n, come, I must have you and Natasha introduced to Mr. Barnes.” She said, hauling you away to the other side of the room as you gave Wanda a pleading look, although you knew she could do nothing to stop your determined mother.

“These are my daughters, Natasha my eldest, and Y/n the second. I have others but they’re already dancing.” She introduced you and your sister. You looked at the group, taking great effort to stop yourself from staring at the Baron, instead examining Mr. Barnes. 

Mr. Barnes was certainly handsome with his dark looks. He was well built, clearly a man who went outside quite a bit, and his striking blue eyes were filled with kindness but had a small darkness within them, despite that you read him as a kind and gentle man who worked past his past mistakes. His eyes stayed primarily on Natasha, and you couldn’t blame him. Natasha was always the most effortlessly stunning sister, but when it came to balls where she put effort in her appearance, she blew everyone away.

“Mr. Barnes, are you liking it here in Hertfordshire?” Asked Natasha, her eyes stayed on him as well. You allowed yourself to glance at the Baron while the two conversed, finding the man standing still and talking to no one, instead looking away from your group and watching the dancing crowd with an unreadable expression.

“Very much.” He replied. You turned your attention back to the conversation to not appear rude, Mr. Barnes was giving your sister a charming smile.

“I’ve heard the library at Netherfield is one of the finest in the country.” You added to the conversation.

“It fills me with guilt, I’m not a very avid reader.” You had expected this from his athletic stature. “I prefer being outdoors. I mean, I can read, and I’m not saying you can’t read outdoors.” He began to ramble, seemingly embarrassed. Despite his kindness he didn’t seem to be too good when it came to socializing, either that or Natasha’s beauty was distracting him as he hadn’t taken his eyes off of her even when you had spoken.

“I wish I read more but it always seems as if there's other things to do.” Natasha spoke with a smile, saving Mr. Barnes from his awkward state. 

“That’s exactly what I meant!” He smiled, making Natasha smile in response. You knew they would get along well which would delight your mother.

You felt the warmth of someone's stare, turning your head to see Baron Zemo looking at you. Your eyes locked with his deep brown ones for a few moments, wordlessly trying to figure him out. You heard Mr. Barnes ask Natasha for a dance, and she accepted, leaving you with the Baron.

“Do you dance much, Baron?” You asked, hoping to ease the tension between you two by initiating a conversation.

“Not if I can help it.” He looked away, not seeming to be too pleased with being spoken to. The awkwardness of the moment threatened to consume you. You silently watched your sister dance for the duration of the song before heading to Wanda once it ended.

“What’s wrong?” She asked

“Baron Zemo is a dreadful conversationalist. He seemed so irritated with me just asking him a question, I can’t stand-” You were cut off with a shush, Wanda gesturing to where the Baron and Mr. Barnes were standing nearby, not noticing you two.

“I’ve never seen so many beautiful women in one place in my life.” Mr. Barnes spoke to his friend.

“You were dancing with the only beauty in the room.” The Baron replied with a scoff.

“She was gorgeous, but what about her sister? Y/n I believe was her name. She seemed intelligent, she asked me about the library. Maybe the two of you would be a good match” He nudged the Baron who sent him a look. Their dynamic was odd, and Y/n couldn’t help but wonder how such a kind man became friends with a man like Baron Zemo.

“She’s tolerable, but isn’t handsome enough to tempt me.” He replied, the two walking away to where Miss. Barnes was. You didn’t care about Baron Zemo’s opinion, but you couldn't help but be offended at his remark.

“If he liked you, you’d have to speak with him. Count your blessings Y/n.” Wanda tried to cheer you up. 

You forced a convincing smile. “I wouldn’t dance with him for all of Sokovia anyways, let alone his miserable half.”

Your joke made Wanda laugh, but your insecurities began to creep through. You had to forcibly stop yourself from dwelling on the Baron's words. He was pompous and judgmental and not worth your time. You looked over to him briefly and saw him looking unimpressed with everything around him. Was that really the man you would let spoil your fun night? He was the most disagreeable and unpleasant man you’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting, and you couldn’t stop yourself from wishing you would never have to encounter him after this night.

You stood up, determined to make the best out of the night, and headed to find a partner to dance with. You didn’t want to give the Baron the honour of haunting your thoughts. However, it was hard to keep him out of your mind when as you got in place to dance you felt the prickling of his stare on your back.

-

Taglist:  @killeromanoff  @ay0nha @thesuitkovian @pedropascallovebot @trelaney @hibiscusgardenia @dxnxdjarxn @naivara-duneimith @hiraethmaximoff @farihafangirls @aisling1985 @literatureandqueen​ let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

[slowly-writing]

Get Through It

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word count: 3.2K

Requested by anon: Hi, could I request a natasha romanoff x fem reader where reader is from the red room and was trained to become a 2.0 version of the black widow and is well known for how successful and deadly she is. She is Natasha's long term girlfriend and informant inside the red room, which is unknown to the red room, the other avengers and SHIELD (maybe asides from Clint or Fury) until she breaks in the Avengers tower, with the avengers perceiving her as a threat until natasha tackles her, confusing them.

“I don’t want you to go back,” Natasha’s voice is quiet, not wanting to break the bubble you’ve formed in the few minutes you’re able to spend together.

“I know love. Just a few more weeks and we should be able to take them down for good, then I’ll be able to leave. I’ll be with you,” you promise and she nods, tightening her grip on your waist as you pull her impossibly closer to you.

“Just five more minutes.” You smile at Natasha’s words.

“Five more minutes,” you agree.

You’d met Natasha at a young age. You were brought into the Red Room a few years after her, she even trained you for a while before she broke out. Not long after she left she showed back up on one of your missions. She told you about the people she worked for now and how they needed your help. You immediately agreed. You’d do almost anything to end the program that ruined your life, you wanted out. Unfortunately for you, the plan involved leaving you there to be a mole for an unspecified amount of time. Neither you nor Natasha liked it, wanting you to be safe, wanting to be together, but you made it work. She’d come find you when they sent you on missions, and you’d steal a few moments together wherever you could. She helped you cope with the people you had to kill in order to maintain your cover, collateral damage, Fury had called them. It made you sick, but it was the only way to survive. If the instructors of the red room even vaguely suspected you disobeying their orders they’d kill you as soon as look at you.

Natasha didn’t know exactly what was happening inside the red room anymore, all she knew was that they had upped security since she left and things had gotten a lot worse. Fury wouldn’t let her in on the briefings he had with you, he said it was a conflict of interest and you refused to talk about what you were going through. When Natasha left the instructors had been furious. She was their greatest accomplishment and they knew it was only a matter of time before she returned with an army to take them down. So training was doubled and punishments were tripled. Everyone’s life became a living hell. Well, more of one. They were determined to be ready and you, having been the only one trained by her, got the brunt of the attention. They decided you’d be the new project and while Natasha didn’t know exactly what was wrong, she knows it’s bad, and it breaks her heart.

xxxxx

“Y/l/n, stand,” you’re startled out of your slumber and you’re on your feet in seconds, standing at attention. You know not to speak as you wait for instructions, if they decided to wake you up before everyone else then they weren’t happy, and you’re not about to piss them off.

“You will be training the new recruits today. They are sloppy and undisciplined, we expect you to fix that,” you’re told and you clench your jaw, not letting the words you want to say slip out. Not snapping that the new recruits are all below seven years of age, of course they’re all undisciplined. Of course they’re sloppy, they were brought here against their will to become killing machines. You know the nightmare they’re living through. You’ve been there before, and it’s because of that experience that you know anything you say won’t be taken against you. The children will receive the punishment. So you hold your tongue.

“Yes ma’am,” your voice is firm, hiding the pain and anger with an ease that only comes from years of experience.

“Training starts at 0500. Get ready,” they say before leaving your room. You look down at your watch, you have half an hour.

xxxxx

“Again.” your voice is firm, your face emotionless. You’re watching the young girls spar and pretending it doesn’t break your heart. You don’t remember much about your life before you came here, the instructors made sure of that, but you know these girls do. They remember the parents they were ripped away from, the normal lives they had, and even if they were bad, they were nothing compared to this. The sound of sniffling catches your attention. You look to your left, seeing a small girl trying to hide her tears. You kneel down in front of her and she stiffens, “hey, you can’t cry.”

“I’m sorry ma’am. I didn’t mean too,” her voice is shaking and there are more tears welling up in her eyes. She looks to the floor in an attempt to hide them and you find yourself fighting tears as well.

“I’m not mad,” you promise and she looks up, a sliver of hope in her eyes. “What’s your name?”

“Jackie,” she whispers and you nod.

“It’s going to be okay, Jackie.” You feel eyes on you and you look around, seeing everyone staring at the interaction and you wave them over. “Everyone come here, and be quiet.”

The girls half dozen all gather around you, sitting in a circle and looking every bit the young children they are. You glance behind you, ensuring the doors are closed before you turn back. “You all need to listen very carefully. I know you don’t want to be here, I don’t either. But I’m here to help you get through. I want to help you, but you can’t tell anyone, alright? I know you’re scared but you have to hide it, or you’re gonna get in a lot of trouble. It’s scary but you can get through this. I know you can.”

“I want to go home,” Jackie says and you sigh.

“I know. I do too, but it’s gonna be okay. You hide your emotions from them, but you’re allowed to feel them. Whenever you feel scared or alone, you lean on each other, or you come find me. You’ll get through this together.”

“How did you do it?” another girl asks and you smile softly.

“I had someone to help me through,” you say simply, memories of you and Nat working together to get through everything. As you look at the girls here you promise them silently, you’re gonna shut this down. You’ll get them all home, even if it’s the last thing you do. You hear footsteps coming and your heart stops.

“Everybody up!” Your voice is firm again and they all snap back into attention, knowing it’s time to work. “Again.”

“Y/l/n,” a voice comes from the doorway and you make your way over, “you’re done here for the day. You have a mission.”

“Yes ma’am.” you know not to spare the girls another glance, but you can tell they’re watching you go. You hope you’ll be back soon.

“There is an individual out there who poses a threat to everything we do here, more than anyone in the past. This mission requires a firm hand, that’s why you have been chosen. You will find your target and you will take her out, before she destroys everything,” the instructor says as you walk. When you enter the briefing room you see the photos of your target, and you feel sick.

xxxxx

“Intruder alert! An unidentified individual is in the elevator, approaching the common room.” Friday’s voice announces throughout the tower and everyone snaps into action, the movie they had been watching instantly forgotten as they prepare for a fight. Tony’s suit assembles around him and Clint grabs one of the many bows he has stashed around the tower. Steve’s shield appears out of nowhere and Natasha grabs a knife out of her boot and they all wait for the elevator doors to open with bated breath.

When the doors open there are three very different reactions from the people in the room. Natasha drops her knife and practically jumps into the intruder's arms, Clint lowers his bow and rolls his eyes fondly, while everyone else tenses up even more.

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Russia. Did they send you on a mission here?” Natasha rapid fires questions, and the grin on your face only grows.

“I’m out. All the instructors from the red room are with Fury, on the way to the raft. All the girls are going to headquarters for interrogation,” you say proudly and Natasha steps out of your arms, taking both your hands in hers and trying to hide the tears in her eyes.

“It worked?” Her voice is barely above a whisper, and you nod.

“It worked.” With that she’s crashing her lips into yours, only pulling away when someone loudly clears their throat.

“Not to break up whatever this is but…what is this?” Tony asks and you try to stifle a laugh at the fear on the faces of Earth’s mightiest heroes.

“Agent y/l/n, nice to meet you,” you say simply and they all continue to stare.

“Uh, yeah. We’re gonna need a bit more than that because we all know who you are. We want to know what you’re doing here and why you’re so...friendly with Romanoff,” Steve says and you don’t hold back the laughter now.

“I’m y/n, I work with shield. I’ve been undercover in Russia the last few years taking down the training facility Natasha and I got our start in. I earned the reputation you all clearly have heard of, but I’m working on changing that, same as Nat. I would’ve left sooner but Fury ordered me to stay there,” you explain and he furrows his brow.

“The most prolific assassin of our time appears in our living room and says she’s on our side. You understand that we can’t believe that, right?” Bruce says and you shrug, attempting to remain calm about the situation.

“I mean, it’s obvious I’m not a stranger. You really think I’d still be standing here if Nat thought I was a threat? Seriously, have any of you met her? She’s the second best assassin in Russia,” you tease her and she rolls her eyes. “Anyway, you can call Fury if you want. He’ll back me up.”

“Why don’t you call him?” Steve is still skeptical and you let out a slow breath. This interrogation is getting really annoying.

“I’ve lived within an underground school training as an assassin for the last sixteen years of my life, three of which I spent undercover trying to take them down from the inside. Do you really think I’m dumb enough to have something as tracable as a cell phone?” your voice is calm but you’re anything but. Natasha takes your hand, trying to pull you out of the glaring match you’re engaged in.

“Alright. Sounds good, see you then,” you all catch the end of Clint’s phone call as he steps back into the room. None of you had even seen him leave. “Fury’s on his way. He had to stop at the raft but he should be here in the next few hours. It’s nice to see you again y/l/n. You okay?”

“You too Barton, and yeah. Just a few scrapes and bruises, nothing some time won’t fix. How is…everything” you trail off, unsure if the people around you know about his family.

“Laura’s good, the kids too. Don’t worry about them. They all found out a few weeks ago,” he explains and you nod.

“Now that I’m out I’d love to meet them sometime, put some faces to all the stories,” you suggest and Clint smiles, nodding in agreement.

“Okay, enough questions. I’m sure you’re exhausted, I’ll take you up to my room. You can rest there until Fury arrives,” Natasha pulls you away from the group and down a few hallways, effectively ending the conversation. She enters what you assume is her room and you smile softly as you take it in. It’s pretty simple, almost no decorations and it’s perfectly organized. You know where that habit came from, and you think about how tidiness has been beaten into your brain as you remove your shoes and carefully set them next to a pair of hers by the end of the bed. When you turn to her you see several emotions crossing her face.

“I know you must have questions,” you say quietly, sitting on the edge of her bed.

“I mean yeah, I have questions. You show up here out of nowhere? We weren’t supposed to take them down for weeks, what changed? I was supposed to help, I was as much part of this as you were. I should have been there,” her voice is shaking, a mix of fear and anger making its way through and you sigh.

“I know you wanted to be in on it. I wanted you to be there, you deserved that closure, but my next mission-” you cut yourself off, shaking your head. You grit your teeth as you try and push your last meeting with your instructors out of your head. “We couldn’t wait anymore.”

“I understand you wanted to leave, I was trying to convince Fury to move up the date as well. I just don’t get what made you feel the need to keep me out of it!” Natasha yells and you’re on your feet in a second.

“You were my next mission!” A heavy silence falls over the room. You’re practically shaking, tears of anger gathering in your eyes as Natasha stares in silence. “That’s why I couldn’t wait.”

“I don’t…” Natasha trails off. You can see the confusion on her face and you step forward, gently taking her hand, but avoiding her eyes. You may be angry, but not at her.

“They’ve never forgiven you for leaving. I was called into a briefing a few days ago. When I walked into the room and they had pictures of you on the board, from missions, here in New York, from the times you met me on my missions. They’ve been trailing you for months. It’s a miracle they hadn’t seen us together. They knew they’d never get you back. They’ve been trying for years and so it was decided if you wouldn’t come willingly we’d take you out. I’d take you out,” you clarify with a shaky breath. “You’re too big of a threat and they knew I was the only one who could…That’s why it had to be now. That’s why you couldn’t be there.”

“Y/n,” Natsha tries but you shake your head, releasing her hand and stepping away.

“I’m tired. Can we talk about this later?” you ask with your back to Natasha and she sighs. She knows she won’t be hearing anything about this anytime soon. Not from you at least, but she nods.

“Of course, get some rest.”

xxxxx

“Now that this is all cleared up, you’re free to go. I think you have earned a vacation,” Fury finishes and you laugh.

“What, you mean all of your agents don’t spend sixteen years on assignment?” you tease and he smirks a bit, it’s the closest you’ve ever seen to a smile. “Thank you sir. I’d like to follow up with the girls if that’s all right, especially the younger ones. I promised I’d get them home.”

“You’re welcome to. Several of them have been asking about you. Other than that you’re free to go. You’ll be contacted with any further questions,” he says before walking out the door followed by the team, leaving you and Natasha alone in the conference room.

You relax into your chair and let out a sigh of relief, “we did it.”

“You did it,” Natasha corrects. “I knew you would. Now, I think it’s time to properly introduce you to the team. Ya know, now that they know you’re not here to kill them.”

Natasha offers a hand and you let her pull you up following her into the kitchen where the team is now gathered.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Steve is the first to speak up.

“I understand. I would have reacted the same way, you were trying to protect yourselves. I was trying to do the same,” you explain and everyone feels the tension begin to release. As you settle into conversation you hear a voice coming from the hallway.

“Miss Romanoff!” the unknown voice yells and you instinctively step between Natasha and the threat. A teenage boy comes running into the room, a backpack on his shoulders and a sheet of paper in his hand. A girl around the same age follows him in, much calmer and you stare, they don’t seem like a threat, but you aren’t taking any risks.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Natasha whispers to you, taking your hand before speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. “This is Peter and Wanda, they’re on the team.”

You spin to face her, a look of anger across your face, but she recognizes the pain in your eyes. “They’re kids.”

“Oh god. Another person to make fun of my age? I swear I can keep up, I’m not that young!” At Peter’s complaints you turn back around, looking the two up and down for a moment.

“You’re here willingly?” You ask and Peter’s head tilts to the side, resembling that of a confused puppy.

“Well, yeah. I was gonna show Miss Romanoff my chemistry test, she helped me study for it. I got an A,” he says and the girl behind him, Wanda you remember, steps forward.

“She means on the team,” Wanda looks at you intently, like she knows more than she should and it’s unsettling.

“Wanda, get out of her head,” Steve’s words startle you but he just keeps going. “This is y/n, she trained with Nat.”

“Their training facility had child soldiers, similar to hydra. That is why she was afraid we were here against our will,” Wanda says and you notice her accent, “I was raised in Sokovia. I was brought into Hydra at ten. I came here after.”

“So you just-”

“Know everything you’re thinking? Yes,” she cuts you off and you sigh.

“That’s gonna get annoying. On that note, I have to get to headquarters,” you say and Natasha speaks up.

“Do you have to go now?” she asks and you nod.

“The younger girls...I promised I’d get them home. I promised to be there when they were scared, and I know this is the scariest thing yet,” you tell her and Tony speaks up.

“Surely they’ll be okay for a bit longer. They have to understand that you’ve done enough for them. They may only be teenagers but-”

“They’re seven,” you cut him off, “some even younger. I won’t leave them alone.” The room falls silent as they all stare.

“When you say you’ve been there for sixteen years…” Bruce trails off and you nod.

“I was brought in when I was seven, same as most of the girls there.”

“What kind of sick organization is this?” Tony sounds angry and you smile sadly.

“Why do you think we fought so hard to take it down? Now if you’ll excuse me, I really need to go. Nat, we could use some help if you’re willing?” you ask and she smiles.

“Like I’m letting you go without me.” You smile at her words, taking her hand gently. “Now come on, we’ve got work to do.”

tag list: @rvgrsbrns @rororo06 @prizmix-and-friends @worlds-in-words @5aftermidnight @im-salt-but-not-salty @riotmaximoff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

[melisa-may-taylor72]

QUEEN BEFORE QUEEN

THE 1960s RECORDINGS

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

PART 4:

THE OPPOSITION

JOHN DEACON WAS THE QUIETEST MEMBER OF A MIDLAND-BASED FIVE-PIECE WHOSE GREATEST AMBITION WAS TO PLAY ANOTHER GIG.

Initial research John S. Stuart. Additional research and text: Andy Davis.

John Deacon was the fourth and final member to join Queen. He became part of that regal household 25 years ago this month, enrolling as the band’s permanent bassist in February 1971. His acceptance marked the culmination of a six-year ‘career’ in music, much of which he spent in an amateur, Leicestershire covers band called the Opposition.

From 1965 until 1969, Deacon and his schoolmates ploughed a humble, local furrow in and around their Midlands hometown, reflecting the decade’s mercurial moodswing with a series of names, images and styles of music. The most remarkable fact about the Opposition was just how unremarkable the group actually was.

Collectively, they were an unambitious crew: undertaking precisely no trips down to London to woo A&R men; winning only one notable support slot for the army of chart bands who visited Leicester in the ‘60s (opening for Reperata & the Delrons in Melton Mowbray in 1968); and managing even to miss out on the option of sending a demo tape to any of the nation’s record labels. The band’s saving grace is its solé recorded legacy: a three-track acetate — although even this was done for purely private consumption, and has rarely been aired outside the confines of their inner circle.

It is perhaps indicative of the Opposition’s modest outlook that their most promising bid for stardom, a beat contest, was called off before they had the chance to play in the finals. For John Deacon and friends, it seems, merely being in a band was reward enough.

Considering of all of this, it’s easy to imagine the response to the following story, related in the ‘60s to one of the Opposition’s guitarists, Ronald Chester:...[ ]

...[ ] “There was a teacher who worked at Beauchamp School, which John attended, who told fortunes. They went to see her one Saturday and were told, ‘John Deacon is going to be world famous and very, very rich. Of course, they all fell about laughing. She was determined that this was going to happen. But they all thought it was a joke."

What particularly amused Deacon’s colleagues was the unlikeliness of this scenario, given the plain facts of his demeanour. John was born in Leicester in 1951, the product of affluent, middle-class, middle England. As a youngster, he was known to his friends as ‘Deaks’ and grew up to be quiet and reserved, what Mark Hodkinson referred to in ‘Queen — ‘The Early Years’ as “a ghost of a boy".

“He is basically shy,” confirms Richard Young, the Opposition’s first guitarist/vocalist, and later keyboardist. “I suppose he was quieter than the rest of us — but he was fairly static with Queen if you look at him on stage.”

Ron Chester agrees: “John was quiet by nature. His sister, Julie, was the same. Once he got going, though, he wasn’t any different from anybody else. But on first approach, you really had to coax him out of his shell. We’d have to pick him up. He couldn’t walk down the road to meet us."

CONFIDENT

Despite any lack of personal dynamics, Deacon was a capable teenager: “He was very confident," recalls another of the band’s guitarists, David Williams. “But in a laidback sort of way. He didn’t have a problem with anything. ‘Yeah, I can do that’, he’d say. We used to call him ‘Easy Deacon’, not because of any sexual preferences, but because he’d say something was easy without it sounding big-headed. I remember saying to him once, I’m going to have to knock off the gigs a bit to revise for my ‘A’ levels. What about you?’ ‘No’, he said, ‘I don’t need to. I’ve never failed an exam yet, and I’ve never revised for one’. Ultimately, he was just confident, with a phenomenally logical mind. If he couldn’t remember something, he could work it out. And, of course, he got stunning results.”

John’s earliest interest was electronics, which he studied into adulthood. He also went fishing, trainspotting even, with his father. Then music took over. After dispensing with a ‘Tommy Steele’ toy guitar, John used the proceeds from his paper round to buy his first proper instrument, an acoustic, when he was about twelve. An early musical collaborator was a school mate called Roger Ogden, who like Roger Taylor down in Cornwall, was nicknamed ‘Splodge’. But his best friend was the Opposition’s future drummer, Nigel Bullen.

“I’d first got to know John at Langmore Junior School in Oadby, just outside Leicester, in either 1957 or 1958,’' recalls Nigel. “We were both the quiet ones. We started playing music together at Gartree High School, when we were about thirteen. We were inspired by the Beatles — they made everybody want to be in a group. John was originally going to be the band’s electrician, as he called it. He used to build his own radios, before we had any amps, and he fathomed a way of plugging his guitar into his reel-to-reel tape recorder. He was always the electrical boffin."

The prime mover in the formation of the group was another Oadby boy they met on nearby Uplands Park, Richard Young. “Richard was at boarding school," recalls Nigel Bullen. “He was always the kid with the expensive bike. He played guitar, and what’s more had a proper electric, with an amplifier. He instigated getting the band together. Initially, we rehearsed in my garage, and then anywhere we could. John played rhythm to begin with. He was a chord man, the John Lennon of the group, if you like."

SWITCH

Despite his later switch to the bass, Deacon’s technique on the guitar also developed, as Dave Williams reveals: “Later on, I remember he could play ‘Classical Gas’ on an acoustic, which was a finger-picking execise and no mean feat. It’s a bit like ‘McArthur Park’, a fantastic piece of music, and when I heard it, I thought, ‘Bloody hell. You dark horse!’ Because he never showed off."

The Opposition’s first bassist was another school friend of John’s called Clive Castledine. In fact, the group made its debut at a party at Castledine’s ouse on 25th September, 1965 (their first public performance took place the...[ ]

...[ ] following month at Gartree’s school hall). Clive looked good and appreciated the kudos of being in a group, but he wasn’t up to even the Opposition’s schoolboy standards. “I was the least proficient, to put it mildly,” he admitted to Mark Hodkinson.“His enthusiasm was 100%,” adds Richard Young, “but his actual playing ability was null, so we had a meeting and got rid of him.” Deacon took over, initially playing on his regu­lar guitar, using the bottom strings. “John was good,” Young continues. “It was no problem for him to switch to bass. He hit the right notes at the beginning of the bar, and we were a better band for it. Whereas Clive made us sound woolly, as anyone who just plonked away on any old note would, John was solid.”

DIARY

Young turned out to be the Opposition’s archivist, keeping a diary of each gig played, the equipment used, and the amounts of money earned (as indeed did John Deacon). Richard’s diary documented the day Deacon — now, of course, bassist in one of the world’s most famous groups — first picked up his chosen instrument. “In an entry for 2nd April, 1966,” says Young, “it reads, ‘We threw Clive out on the Saturday afternoon. Had a practice in Deaks’ kitchen, and Deaks went on bass. Played much better.’ John didn’t have a bass, so we went down to Cox’s music shop in King Street in Leicester, and bought him an EKO bass for £60. I paid for it, but I think he paid me back eventually.”

“John’s bass style with the Opposition was the same as with Queen,” reckons Nigel Bullen. “He never used to play with a plectrum, which was unusual, but with his fingers, which meant that his right hand is drooped over the top of the guitar. Also, he plays in an upward fashion, which I’d never seen before, certainly when we were in Leices­ter. Over the years, I’ve watched many bass players adopt that style. I’d say he has been copied a lot. I’ve mentioned this to him, but he doesn’t agree.”

Clive Castledine wasn’t the last member of the band to be dismissed. “The vocal and lead guitar side of the Opposition was changing all the while,” recalls Nigel. “Myself, John, and Richard Young were always there — as were Dave Williams and Ron Chester later on — but we had a succession of other musicians who I can hardly remember now. There was a guy called Richard Frew in the very early days, and a young lad called Carl, but he didn’t fit in. After we began playing proper gigs, Richard decided he wasn’t happy with his singing and wanted to move onto keyboards, so we brought in Pete Bart (formerly with another local band, the Rapids Rave) as a guitarist and vocalist. He was good, but again, didn’t last long.”

“Bart was a bit of a rocker, while we were all mods,” remarks Dave Williams. “We were impressed by mod bands like the Small Faces and the original Who. Bart seemed to come from a different era altogether.”

“Deaks had the Parka with the fur collar,” remembers Ron Chester. “And short hair, a crew cut. Mirrors on his scooter.” Richard Young agrees: “John was more of a mod than us. But you couldn’t really pigeonhole the band, because our music went right across the board”.

”Buying Deacon his bass was no one-off, and Richard Young is remembered as the group’s benefactor. Being older than the others, he had a steady job working for his father’s electronics company in Leicester, which brought him a regular, and by all accounts, generous wage. He rarely thought twice before splashing out on equipment for the other members.

RECEIPTS

“Richard bought me a P.A.,” recalls David Williams. “But he didn’t ask, he used to think that the group needed it. He’d buy it and then say, ‘You owe me this’. My mum used to get really annoyed. She’d was at that going- through-my-pockets stage, probably looking for contraceptives. She once found a receipt from Moore and Stanworth’s, a local music shop. It was for a Beyer microphone, which cost about £30. I was still at school, getting pocket money, and my mum said, ‘What on earth is this?!’ Receipts on the Sunday dinner table, that sort of thing. It was good, though. The group needed it.”

“I was dead serious about the band,” claims Young, who switched to organ with the arrival of Williams in July 1966. “Perhaps more so than anybody else. I could see it going nowhere if money wasn’t pumped into it.”

“Dick Young was an accomplished organ player,” adds Dave, “and he improved the group quite a lot. He always had plenty of dosh, and a car. But he was totally mad, a crazy bloke. He’d come round with an organ one week, then next week, he’d have a better one. He ended up with a Farfisa, with one keyboard on it, then one with two keyboards — one above the other. Then he had a Hammond, an L 100. which was really heavy. Then he had a ‘B’ series one. The ‘L’ was top-of-the-range and he sawed it in half to make it easier to carry!”

Dave Williams helped to improve the group as well. “He was at school with us,” says Nigel Bullen, “but in another band, who we always looked up to.” That band was the Leeds-based Outer Limits (who went on to issue several singles — without Dave — in the late ‘60s). “I joined the Opposition after they asked me to watch them and tell them what I thought,” recounts Dave. “The Outer Limits were older lads, all mods, but I was after something a bit more easy going, and the Opposition were my own age. They were okay, but I first saw them at John’s house, when they were still practising in bedrooms, and they were absolutely awful. I said, ‘Have you thought of tuning up?’ They said they had. But it sounded like they were playing in different keys — totally horrendous. It was so funny. They were so conscientious, they’d all learned their bits, but hadn't tuned up to each other. That was my first tip.”

“Our first proper gig was supporting a local band, the Rapids Rave, at Enderby Coop Hall,” recalls Nigel Bullen. “They used to play at this village hall every week. and then we ended up doing it every week for quite some time.” Richard’s diary records the Opposition’s debut taking place on 4th December 1965, and that the band’s fee was £2. Thereafter, they began to offer their Services in the local ‘Oadby & Wigston Advertiser’, which led to bookings in youth clubs and village halls in local hot-spots like Kibworth, Houghton-on- the-Hill, Thurlaston and Great Glen.

SCHOOL WORK

By spring 1966, the Opposition were playing every weekend, school work permitting. The peaks and troughs of their career are illustrated by the following memorable gigs: one at St. George’s Ballroom, Hinckley, on 23rd June 1967, when just two people turned up and the band went home after a couple of numbers; and a September appearance in a series of shows at U.S. Airforce Bases in the Midlands, at which they were required to play for four-and-half hours with just two twenty-minute breaks. It was nothing if not diverse.

“It didn’t seem to matter what you played,” says Dave. “People would clap simply because you were making music. They never said, ‘Do you do Motown, or soul stuff?’ ” The band’s repertoire initially consisted of chart sounds and the poppier end of the R&B spectrum. “Although we were inspired by the Beatles, we never did any of their songs,” claims Nigel. “But we covered the Kinks, the Yardbirds, and things like Them’s ‘Gloria’, and the Zombies’ ‘She’s Not There’.

They also altered their name slightly to the New Opposition, which they unveiled at the Enderby Coop Hall. “The name-change was decided overnight, when John moved from rhythm to bass guitar,” recounts Richard, whose diary records the date of the transition as 29th April 1966. Interestingly, though, it makes no mention of another local group also called the Opposition, long thought to have been the reason for Deacon’s crew adopting the ‘New’. The change did act as an impetus for further development, however, instigated by Dave Williams, who soon took over as the group’s lead vocalist.

“When I joined they were doing all Beach Boys stuff,” he recalls, “and I think I may have brought in a little credibility. In the Outer Limits, I’d been playing John Mayall, the Yardbirds, that sort of thing, plus that group was into really good soul like the Impressions, and fantastic vocal bands from the States. So I had a broad musical knowledge by then, whereas the Opposition had been a bit poppy.” Appropriately, the words “Tamla” and “Soul” were now added to the Opposition’s ads and calling cards.

Towards the end of 1966, the New Opposition were enhanced further by the arrival of Ron Chester, who’d previously played with Dave Williams in the Outer Limits, as well as in an earlier band, the Deerstalkers. “Ron Chester was a bit eccentric,” claims Richard Young. “He never used to go anywhere without his deerstalker. He was a really good guitarist (“stunning”, adds Dave Williams). We were probably at our best when Ron was in the band.”

On 23rd October 1966, the New Opposition entered the local Midland Beat Contest. They won their heat, landing themselves a place in the semifinals on 29th January 1967. They won this, too, and steeled themselves for the finals, which were due to be held on 3rd March 1967, when they were to be pitched against...[ ]

...[ ] an act called Keny. The stars of the show would have been the nearest the Opposition came to having a rival: an outfit called Legay. (A year later, incidentally, this band issued a now collectable single, “No One” (Fontana TF 904,£80J.) Unfortunately, for all concerned, however, the contest never took place. “That was a fiasco,'' laughs Ron. “Somehow we won those heats, but in fact, I don’t remember seeing anybody else playing. I don’t know whether we won by default or not. After that, they pulled the plug on the competition — probably because they knew we’d be playing again!”.

CASINO

“The heats took place in a club in Leicester called the Casino, which was the place to play,” adds Nigel. “The guy who ran the competition was an agent for the club. His company was called Penguin (or P.S) Promotions and he walked like a penguin too, with his feet sticking out. The final was going to be held in the De Montford Hall, which is still the main venue in Leicester. We thought, ‘Crumbs, this is it, perhaps we might make the big time.’ But the guy did a runner with all the money — people had to pay to come to the heats. So the final was called off.”

David Williams wasn’t too fussed, as he scored another prize that night: “I remember taking a girl back to Dick’s car on the strength of us winning our heat. I said, ‘Can I borrow your keys, Dick? He said, ‘What for? You can’t drive!’ “

Were the New Opposition — or the Opposi­tion, as they dropped the ‘New’ again in early 1967 — left in limbo by the cancellation of the Beat Contest? Having achieved the most public recognition of their talents so far, were they disappointed with the loss of the chance to prove themselves further?

“No. It was almost insignificant,” reckons Ron. “We didn’t really look upon it as a stairway to stardom.” And what would John Deacon have thought? “Nothing really,” suggests Chester. “ ‘It’s cancelled. What are we doing next, then?’ That would have been about the depth of it. We were a village band, all gathering at the church hall to try and improve our abilities. The financial aspect of it wasn’t in the forefront of our minds. We were more concerned with our music, and if we could get a booking doing it as well, to pay off some of the equipment, then that was a real bonus. Three bookings a week was enough for us while we were working or still at school.” Despite any dodgy dealings, history does have the Penguin promoter to thank for the only professionally-taken photograph of the Opposition. (“We didn’t go much on photos in the band,” remembers Dave Williams.) On Tuesday, 31st January 1967, two days after winning the semi-finals, the ‘Leicester Mercury’ dispatched a staff photographer over to Richard Young’s parents’ house in Oadby. Here, the group lined-up in the front room, looking more like refugees from 1964, rather than 1967. The only indications of the actual date are perhaps Ron Chester’s deerstalker hat and the ridiculous length of David Williams’ shirt collars — seven inches, no less, from neck to nipple.

“Dave was very extrovert,” recalls Nigel. “But we all had those silk shirts with the great long collars made by our mums and grandmas for our stage gear.” Dave admits: “Our clothes were all a bit mixed up. We had silk shirts with tweed jackets — which were fashionable for a while — and bell-bottoms. Musically, we were pretty good, better than...[ ]

...[ ] most of the local bands around that time, but we had this squeaky-clean, schoolboy image which let us down. I used to get frustrated when we were billed with other bands, and they’d all play with so many wrong chords but had a better image and still the punters applauded. Were they stupid? We were still at school — we didn’t leave until we were eighteen — and weren’t allowed to grow our hair long”.

“After the mod thing,” he continues, “long hair became really important. Bands were growing their hair right down their backs. I remember getting to one gig with John and Nigel a year or so later, and the other group were already on. And when they saw us they turned round and said, ‘Look! They’ve got no hair!’. We were quite upset about that”.

“We also went through the flower-power look,” Dave adds. “And then we got into those little jumpers without any sleeves that Paul McCartney used to wear, the ones so small that half your stomach showed. And then it was grandad shirts without the collars and flares.” Ron Chester: “The flowery shirts and flared trousers were everywhere. We looked like a right shower of poofters. But so did everybody else. You stood out if you didn’t wear them.”

1967 also heralded the arrival of an additional attraction to the Opposition’s stage show: two go-go dancers. At least, it did if the existing literature on the subject is to be believed. “I vaguely remember it,” admits Richard, “but speaking to Nig, neither of us can recal who those dancers were”.

Dave Williams throws some light on the subject: “They were the jet-set girls of the sixth form, they came from the big houses. They came to a couple of gigs and just started dancing. Somebody who booked us for the following week actually advertised us ‘with go-go girls’. But they were never really part of the show.”

ART

On 16th March, 1968 for a gig at Gartree School, the Opposition changed their name once again. “We called ourselves Art,” reveals Nigel, “because Dave was arty, that is, he was training as an artist. It was as simple as that.” Dave agrees: “It was my idea, because I’d been doing art at school.” Nigel Bullen was aware of another band using that name around the same time (the pre-Spooky Tooth outfit), but assuming them to be American, reckoned they’d be no confusion. As the Leicester-based Art never made it to London, there wasn’t.

Despite wording like “A time to touch and feel, to taste and experience, to hear and understand” appearing on the group’s tickets, Richard maintains that Art was “just the same band” as before. “Nothing changed."

“It was mutton dressed up as lamb, really,” admits Ron Chester. “We thought if we were called something different, people might come because they were curious. But it didn’t make a lot of difference. The audiences were captive at the places we played anyway. There was nowhere else to go on a Friday or Saturday night. Everyone used to roll up to see whoever was on, whether they’d heard of them or not.”

1968 was the year psychedelia caught up with many provincial British bands. The Art were no different, but their acknowledgement of what had been last year’s scene in London was via sight rather than sound. Their light shows seem to have been particularly memo­rable, as Dave Williams explains: “They were brilliant. We used the projectors from school, filled medicine bottles with water and oil, and projected through them to get this lovely golden, amber backdrop. As the image came out upside down, when we poured in some Fairy Liquid, it dropped straight through in a blob, but came out on the wall like a giant green mushroom cloud. It was amazing, and we had about four of them at the back, projecting over the band.”

John Deacon was party to another of Dave’s exploits. “One day,” recalls Williams, “John and I bought a 100-watt P.A. — which was pretty big for those days — and took it into the lecture theatre full of kids at Beauchamp School (which Deacon had attended since September 1966) for our version of Arthur Brown’s ‘Fire’. We cranked it up as loud as we could, put the light show on, and let off these smoke bombs, which were DDT pellets we’d got from the chemist. All the kids started choking, and then the headmaster walked in...[ ]

...[ ] with a load of governors. You could see the fury in his face. One of the governors asked what we were doing. ‘It’s a demonstration in sound and light, sir,’ I said. ‘We’re using these ink bottles turned upside down, but we’re a bit worried about these DDT pellets so we might knock the smoke on the head, but we’re still experimenting.’ And he fell for it!”.

INFLUENTIAL

Towards the end of 1968, a crop of new groups began to have a profound effect on the maturing schoolboys: Jethro Tull, the Nice, Taste, and in particular Deep Purple. Ron: “We used to buy Purple records and learn to play them. We’d seen John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers and the Downliners’ Sect in Leicester, the Nice, King Crimson. These sort of groups. We learned a lot from just watching them. They were influential. There was always a big discussion in the band as to whether we should do a particular song. Once we’d decided that, there’d be another big discussion as to how we should do it. Everybody had their say.”

Hair, too, had finally began to grow: “John grew his quite long,” recalls Ron. “We all had longish hair, but not shoulder length. We couldn’t look too unkempt for the normal side of life, but we didn’t want to be too prissy for the other end of the spectrum. That was when we started playing universities, and we went a bit heavier. The audiences were far more serious minded about music and more enthusiastic. In some of the youth clubs we’d been playing, the audience would be moving around on roller skates, or peeling bananas all over the place, things like that”.

“We felt we were making an impression towards the last year or two of the band,” he continues. But it went no further: “We were at school, some of us had jobs, and there was an element of common sense overriding what we would have liked to have done. None of us wanted to chuck in our apprenticeships or courses. If we’d had a flair for writing our own material, we might have taken off. But we just played what was popular, nothing different from most other groups. That wasn’t a basis on which to launch ourselves. So it never happened."

“We didn’t think that far ahead,” admits Richard Young. “I just thought of playing and getting repeat bookings. John was probably the least ambitious of all of us, to be honest. I think he felt that there was no mileage in what we were doing, although it was good fun. I think he had the impression that this was a hobby, a phase he was going through.”

Sometime in the Sixties, possibly 1969, but maybe earlier, Art recorded an acetate. Whatever the date, the crucial point is that John Deacon was present at the session. “We weren't asked to do it,” recalls Nigel. “We just wanted to make a disc. I think it cost us about five shillings.”

The venue was Beck’s studio, thirty miles south east of Oadby in Wellingborough, Northamptonshire. “I’d never been in a studio before and it seemed awesome, really,” recalls Dave Williams. “It was a fairly decent-sized room for acoustics. It was all nicely low-lit, with lots of screens. The guy knew what he was doing.” Richard Young was less impressed, though: I’ve been in studios all my life,” he says. “That was just another session. Nothing about it stood out.”

The “guy” Dave remembered was engineer Derek Tomkins, who informed the group that they could record three tracks in the time allotted. “We’d only gone in there with two, ‘Sunny’ and ‘Vehicle’,” says Nigel, “and we didn’t want to waste the opportunity, so Richard knocked up a little instrumental called Transit 3’ — named after our new van, the third one — right there in the studio. Although we were purely a covers band, everybody had a bash at writing, but we never did anything of our own on stage. The exception was Transit 3’, which was incorporated into the set after this session.”

“ Transit 3’ was about about the only track we ever wrote," reckons Richard Young (“Heart Full Of Soul”, as reported in ‘As It Began’, is in fact a Graham Gouldman nurnber). “I initially had the idea, but I can’t really remember anything about it. It’s very basic. It wouldn’t take a great deal of effort to write something like that.” To the objective observer, “Transit 3”, taped in mono but well recorded, is a fairly uncomplicated, organ-led scale- hopper, reminiscent of Booker T & the MGs.

 “Everybody was listening to ‘Green Onions’,” confirms Nigel, “so Booker T would have been an influence there.” But for all that, it’s well- played, with memorable lead and twangy, wah-wah guitar passages courtesy of Dave Williams. And, crucially, John Deacon’s thumping bass is plainly audible throughout. On this evidence, the Opposition were clearly a tight, confident outfit. “Transit 3” could have been incorporated into any swinging ‘60s film soundtrack, and no one would have jumped up shouting, “Amateurs”!.

UNFAMILIAR

The other two tracks, covers of Bobby Hebb’s ‘Sunny' and the more obscure, soul- tinged ‘Vehicle’ (later a hit for the Ides of March), featured a vocalist, but an unfamiliar one: another of the Opposition’s fleeting frontmen. “We had a singer for a while called Alan Brown,” recalls Nigel. “He came and went fairly quickly. He was good, really good. Too good for us, I think. That wasn’t him saying that. We just knew it.”

On both songs, Brown is in deep, soulful voice, sounding not unlike a cross between Tom Jones and the early Van Morrison — if such an amalgam can be imagined. The Art’s reading of “Vehicle” is edgy and robust, dominated by Richard Young’s distinctive keyboards and Nigel Bullen’s bustling drum work. Dave Williams is again in fine form, delivering more sparkling wah-wah guitar, while on the cassette copy taped from Nigel Bullen’s acetate, at least, John’s bass is very prominent, over-recorded in fact, booming in the mix.

“Sunny” goes one better, breaking into jazzy 3/4 time halfway through, before slotting back into the more traditional 4/4. It’s an imaginative arrangement, with alternate soloing from both Dave and Richard, while the whole track is underpinned by swirls of Hammond organ and John Deacon’s pounding bass.

“We did ‘Sunny’ as part of our stage set,” says Nigel, “but I don’t recall us ever going into the jazzy bit. That’s quite interesting. We might have talked about that before we went into the studio, but I think it was just for this session. Dave had two guitars, a six-string and a twelve-string, or it could even have been twin-necked. I still quite like the wah-wah he played on that track. By this time Richard would have been onto his second or third organ — he was heavily into Hammonds and Leslies."

Operating as they did in a fairly ambition- free zone, and having prepared the listener for a mundane set of recordings with their trademark laid-back approach, Art’s acetate comes as something of a revelation. Let any bunch of today’s schoolboys loose in a studio for an afternoon and defy them to come up with something half as good!

Just two copies of the Art disc are known to have survived. John Deacon’s mother is believed to own one and Nigel Bullen has the other. “I’d forgotten all about this record,” admits Nigel. “We know that one copy was converted to an ashtray!. We stubbed out cigarettes on Richards at rehearsal one night.” Although treated with anything but respect at the time, the importance of the disc is now apparent to Nigel Bullen: “This is probably John Deacon’s first recording, apart from tracks he did in his bedroom on his reel-to-...[ ]

...[ ] reel, which are probably long gone. Although, knowing John, they’re probably not!”

The beginning of the end for Art came in June 1969, when John Deacon left Beauchamp. With a college course lined up in London, his days with the band were obviously numbered. He played his final gig with the group on 29th August at a familiar venue, Great Glen Youth and Sports Centre Club. By October, he’d moved to London to study electronics at Chelsea College of Technology, part of the University of London.

Another blow was dealt in November, when the band's lynchpin, Richard Young, left to join popular local musician Steve Fearn in Fearn’s Brass Foundry.

“They were a Blood, Sweat and Tears-type of group,” recalls Richard, “and paid better money than I’d been used to. I was out five nights a week, on about £3 per night, against an average of about £10 between us.” The previous year, Richard had played session keyboards on the Foundry’s two Decca singles: “Don’t Change It” (F 12721, January 1968, £10) and “Now I Taste The Tears” (F 12835. September 1968, £8).

SAVAGE

Ron Chester departed shortly afterwards, and gave up music: “I left in the early 70s, after John Deacon moved to London. John was replaced by a bass player was called John Savage, who unsettled me. He had different tastes and drove us a bit hard. His approach was totally different from Deaks's, and he was much more interested in the financial side of things. We’d all been mates before, we didn't just knock about for the band. It just wasn’t the same.”

Nigel, Richard and Dave pushed on into 1970 with the new bassist, changing the band’s name again, this time to Silky Way. They returned to Beck’s studio to record a cover of Free’s “Loosen Up” with another vocalist, Bill Gardener, but that was the band’s last effort. Dave left after falling into Nigel’s drumkit, drunk on stage at a private party one Christmas. “I waited for them to pick me up the next day,” he recalls sheepishly, “but they never carne.”

Richard and Nigel moved into a dinner- dance type outfit called the Lady Jane Trio — “Corny, or what!”, laughs Bullen — but Nigel left music altogether soon afterwards to con­centrate on his college work. Richard turned professional, moving into cabaret with the Steve Fearn-less Brass Foundry, before forming a trio called Rio, finding regular work on the holiday camp and overseas cruise circuit. In the late ‘70s, he joined a touring version of the Love Affair.

Down in London, John Deacon caught a glimpse of his future world-beating musical partners as early as October 1970, when he saw the newly-formed Queen perform at College of Estate Management in Kensington. “They were all dressed in black, and the lights were very dim too,” he told Jim Jenkins and Jacky Gunn in ‘As It Began’, “All I could really see were four shadowy figures. They didn’t make a lasting impression on me at the time.”

While renting rooms in Queensgate, John formed a loose R&B quartet with a flatmate, guitarist Peter Stoddart, one Don Cater on drums and another guitarist remembered only as Albert. The new band was hardlv a great leap forward from Art: they wrote no originals, and when asked to perform their only gig at Chelsea College on 21st November 1970, supporting Hardin & York and the Idle Race, they hastily billed themselves — in a rare fit of self-publicity for the quiet Oadby boy — as Deacon.

A few months later in early 1971, John was introduced to Brian May and Roger Taylor by a mutual friend, Christine Farnell, at a disco at Maria Assumpta Teacher Training College. They were looking for a bassist. John auditioned at Imperial College shortly after­wards. Roger Taylor recalled Queen’s initial reaction to Deacon in ‘As It Began’: “We thought he was great. We were so used to each other, and so over the top, we thought that because he was quiet he would fit in with us without too much upheaval. He was a great bass player, too — and the fact that he was a wizard with electronics was definitely a deciding factor!”

How did the members of the Art/Opposition back in Leicester, view John’s success with Queen? “It wasn’t sudden”, says Ron Chester. “First we heard he’d got into another group. We couldn’t believe that — were they deaf? There were all these sort of jokes going along. Then we heard he’d got a recording contract and the next thing he had a record out. It was a gradual progression. No one dreamed he would end up the way he did.”

“I don’t think we expected success for any of us" admits Nigel Bullen. “Richard maybe. He was the first one to go professional. But when John left for London to go to college, he left all his kit here. I thought that was the end of it for him. He had absolutely no intention of continuing. His college course was No.1. It was only after he kept seeing adverts for bass players in the ‘Melody Maker’ that he became interested again.”

He also seemed to lose some of that ‘Easy Deacon’ touch which so impressed Dave Williams in the ‘60s. “He’d ring up these bands,” continues Nigel, “but when he found they were a name act, he bottle out. When he went to auditions for anonymous bands, where he would queue up with about thirty other bass players, he had a bit of confidence. He just wanted to play in a decent band. Once I heard what Queen had recorded at De Lane Lea, and John played me the demo of their first album, I thought they were well set.”

CABARET

By early 1973, Dave Williams had forsaken a career in animation to join Highly Likely, a cabaret outfit put together by Mike Hugg and producer Dave Hadfield on the back of their minor hit, “Whatever Happened To You (The Likely Lads Theme)”. While Dave was in the band, they recorded a follow-up single which wasn’t released, before evolving into a glam rock outfit, Razzle, which later become the Ritz, who issued a few singles. “During Queen’s early days, before they’d had any real success, John came to see us once,” recalls Dave, “and said, ‘I wish I was in a band like this which could actually play some gigs’.” Dave concludes: “I remember John coming round once around that time, saying I’ve got a demo’. ‘So have I!’, I said. So we put his on first, and the first track was ‘Keep Yourself Alive’. My mouth dropped wide open and I thought. ‘Bloody hell! What a great track’. I remember saying that the guitarist was as good as Ritchie Blackmore — who was still our hero then — and thinking ‘They’re serious about this. This is the real thing’.”

RECORD COLLECTOR Nº 198 FEBRUARY 1996

⬅PREVIOUS: SMILE

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➡NEXT: IBEX, WRECKAGE & SOUR MILK SEA

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[devendrasbeard]

Marry me Once, Marry Me twice, Marry Me Six Times

Prompt: Getting Engaged Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier Rating: M Content Warnings: Alcohol, Drunk Sex, Accidental Sugar Daddy Acquisition (through marriage xD) Summary: Five times Jaskier has proposed to Eskel (more or less as a joke) and the one time Eskel has proposed to Jaskier (for real). Coffee shop AU!

Also on ao3!

The first time Jaskier has proposed to Eskel was only a few days after he'd moved to Rivia all the way from Lettenhove.

He reached out to his old college friend, Geralt, who he knew lived in Rivia, and asked him for help with the move. Even though they haven't seen each other in almost ten years, Geralt was more than happy to provide help not only with bringing all of Jaskier's stuff to his new place, but he was also determined to make Jaskier's start in the new city go as smoothly as possible.

And so, he offered Jaskier a job in his coffee shop, so that he didn't have to worry about money right after having moved across the continent. When Jaskier would settle down and think of a plan for his next moves, he'd look for other job opportunities.

It was his third day in "Deja Brew", but Geralt was already convinced he'd made the right decision by hiring his old friend. Jaskier's outgoing personality and clever, witty comments already earned them much higher tips. Little to no customers could withstand Jaskier's charm when he described their cookies and special lattes with flowery words, so their order values also increased immensely.

It was close to lunchtime, so the coffee shop was almost empty. Jaskier was stacking up some paper cups and reorganizing the paper straws by color, with his back to the front door, when he heard the familiar ding of that tiny bell installed just above the door. 

He turned around to greet the new customer but got tongue-tied after seeing the person who entered. It was a very tall man, taller even than Geralt, with shoulders ridiculously broad, gorgeous olive skin and longer dark hair. He was wearing a leather jacket over a red skin-tight t-shirt, and a pair of black jeans. What caught Jaskier's attention were the bits of tattoos poking out of the shirt's v-neck and a piercing on the bridge of the man's nose.

"Fuck me sideways..." Jaskier whispered a tad too loud as the man approached the counter.

"Hey, no swearing in front of the customers!" Geralt shouted from the storage room.

"No worries, I'm no customer," the man smiled softly and winked at Jaskier. "I assume Geralt's around?"

Jaskier pointed to the back door not saying a word, too busy biting his lip and ogling the gorgeous man in front of him.

"Oh, hey, Eskel," Geralt appeared next to Jaskier and greeted the man. "Did something happen? You usually don't come here after work."

"Nah, it's nothing. I left in a rush this morning and forgot my keys. If you could give me yours I'll make dinner tonight," he casually leaned over the counter and Jaskier couldn't help but stare at the chest hair poking out of the shirt and those goddamn tattoos.

"Yeah sure, I'll get them," Geralt replied and patted Jaskier on the shoulder. "By the way, this is my old friend Jaskier, you should remember him from my college stories. Jask, this is my brother Eskel."

Jaskier's eyes widened even more. "Brother?!" He shook his head. "You have a gorgeous, sex-on-legs brother and you never cared to tell me?"

Geralt chuckled. "Of course I told you, back in college. Baby Esk? Little brother did grow up a little in the past ten years."

Jaskier swallowed thickly and eyed Eskel, who was grinning at him with a mysterious spark in his eye. "Gods above," Jaskier sighed. "You're even more perfect than Geralt. I'm sorry, but will you marry me?"

Eskel laughed loudly, a low baritone sound, but so soft on the edges. He patted Jaskier on the shoulder and winked. "I like you, Jaskier. We'll need to get to know each other better if you'd like to marry me, so I'll see you around?"

Eskel left, leaving Jaskier feeling very fuzzy inside, knees wobbly, leaning on the counter to steady himself, and Geralt rolling his eyes at him and asking the gods if it really was a good idea to hire him.

*****

The second time Jaskier has proposed to Eskel was about a month later.

He stayed in "Deja Brew" for a while longer than he and Geralt had planned initially, but they both agreed that Jaskier just fit into that place perfectly. His new ideas for special drinks and clever names for desserts helped Geralt's place make a name for itself. 

Jaskier's newest addition to the menu was the "Unicorn Fart" - a caramel cocoa drink with rainbow colored whipped cream and a ridiculous amount of sprinkles on top. Kids would buy that in bulk and parents would roll their eyes at Jaskier when he'd hand the drinks to the delighted kids while making farting noises.

Eskel was a cook in the vegan diner just across the street and he used to pop in every now and then after work or before his late afternoon shift, grabbing a coffee before he went back to his daily activities.

Jaskier would eye him very carefully and absolutely not as sneakily as he thought. It's been a really long while since Jaskier has been with anyone, and Geralt's brother sparked that long forgotten interest in him. Now and then Jaskier would ask Geralt casually about Eskel - how old he exactly was, what he liked to do in his free time - feeling more comfortable talking to his friend about him, than ask Eskel himself.

One evening Eskel came into the coffee shop right before closing time, carrying two takeaway bags and placing them on the counter. "You need to try this!" he said enthusiastically, crossing his arms on his chest. "I've finally managed to make the perfect dumplings."

Jaskier peeked into the bags with interest and took out two containers with wonton soup and a tray with some kind of stir fry. Eskel grinned at him, his face an example of sheer satisfaction.

Geralt emerged from the storage room and grabbed one soup from Jaskier. "It smells great," he smiled at his brother.

Jaskier eagerly grabbed one wonton with his chopsticks and ate the whole thing at once. It was delicious - hot, juicy, full of tasty vegetables - and his eyes rolled back into his skull as he hummed with contentment. He pointed his chopsticks at Eskel, mouth still full, and let out a few appreciative grunts. "This, my guy, is orgasm in the form of food."

Eskel laughed and scratched the back of his neck. Jaskier didn't miss the way his bicep bulged, his shirt almost bursting at the seams. "I'm glad you like it, I'm really proud of this."

"You should be!" Jaskier put away the soup and reached for the stir fry. "Gods, I would give you foot massages at every occasion if you promised to cook it for me everyday."

"You know where I work, Jaskier, you can come by whenever you like."

"I would much rather marry you and enjoy this orgasmic food in the privacy of our home," Jaskier said lightly, while looking Eskel deep in the eyes at the same time. "Could also use some different kind of orgasms you wouldn't be able to provide me with in your diner."

Geralt choked on his dumpling, looking daggers at Jaskier, while having a coughing fit. "For gods' sake! Can you try being less blunt with your flirting? It's my little brother."

"I don't see any flirting," Eskel laughed, sending Jaskier a wink. "I've only been proposed to twice, that's quite serious, my old guy, don't you think?"

Geralt huffed, rolled his eyes and left for the storage room, hugging the soup container to his chest. "I need to place some orders for tomorrow. Behave, you two."

Jaskier leaned casually on the counter, popping another dumpling in his mouth and grunting with pleasure again. "I've proposed twice, yet I haven't heard an answer from you, Esk."

"I like you, Jaskier, you're more than cute," Eskel winked at him and moved to the door. "Gotta do better than that to get a yes, though. See you around!"

*****

The third time Jaskier has proposed to Eskel was on the night of Belleteyn.

As a promotional stunt, Jaskier offered their coffee shop customers a pair of limited edition coffee drinks - one infused with rose and the other with lavender extract - along with a big heart-shaped cookie. When couples ordered the set he would also give them plastic flower crowns that he'd bought in bulk a few weeks earlier at a super cheap price.

Geralt was amazed at Jaskier's ideas and kept shooting him appreciative looks, as they both worked fast and agile to get all the incoming orders ready. He even gave in and let Jaskier put one of the flower crowns on his silver hair, "for promotional reasons only, of course."

When the last customers for the day left, carrying two coffee cups each and trying not to drop their flower crowns, Eskel walked into the place, his signature grin plastered on his face.

"Ready to get absolutely shitfaced tonight?" he asked, holding up a bottle of red wine. "I like how cute you both look," he smiled pointing at the now crooked flower crowns on their heads.

"You'll get one too," Jaskier chirped, reaching under the counter and placing the wreath on Eskel's head and pursing his lips. "Absolutely gorgeous!"

"Nice!" Eskel smiled. "Are we going to see the parade or do you guys want to get straight down to business?"

"And by 'business' you mean...?" Jaskier leaned forward on the counter, grinning at Eskel, completely disregarding Geralt's exasperated huff. Jaskier was like a horny, hyperactive little puppy that Geralt had absolutely no control over. 

"It's up to you, Jaskier," Eskel smiled, absolutely unfazed by his friend's innuendos. "Geralt and I have seen the parade more than a dozen times, so if you'd rather hit the pubs already, then I'm game."

"Let's hit the pubs then," Jaskier commanded. "But the flower crowns stay on!"

A few hours and three visited pubs later, Geralt has called it a day and went home, leaving Jaskier and Eskel sitting alone at the bar, telling them to not do anything stupid while he's gone. 

"Sigh, Eskel, you're really handsome," Jaskier whispered, propping his chin on his hands.

"Did you just say 'sigh' out loud instead of actually sighing?" Eskel chuckled.

"I might have," Jaskier tried for a seductive smile. "You're still handsome." He reached out to pat Eskel's cheek, but miscalculated the distance and launched forward, his hand landing on Eskel's thigh and his forehead on Eskel's chest.

"Okay, how shitfaced are we?" Eskel asked, helping Jaskier find his balance.

"Well, I'm pretty hammered for sure. Time to go home?"

"Can I walk you home?" Eskel asked, still holding Jaskier's arms in his grip.

"Only if you stay the night," Jaskier went for a wink but ended up closing both his eyes several times. 

"You're absolutely not subtle while flirting," Eskel laughed, leaning forward and almost bumping their foreheads. "But you're incredibly cute and I'm terribly horny, so I'll take it."

"Talk about subtle," Jaskier snickered.

Before he could find another witty comeback in his alcohol-dazed mind, Eskel's lips were on his. They were soft and plush and very wet, and the kiss caught Jaskier off guard. He wrapped his hands around Eskel's neck and leaned into the kiss.

"Hey, no tongue wrestling at the bar!" the bartender swatted them with his towel. They laughed softly, muttering out apologies and left the pub, hips bumping against each other and legs wobbly.

They stumbled into Jaskier's apartment, Jaskier hugging Eskel's waist, Eskel's arm slumped over Jaskier's shoulder, laughing at something they have long forgotten about.

Jaskier pushed Eskel against the wall as soon as he closed the door behind them. "Okay, are we doing this because we're super drunk, super horny, or do you really really reallyyyyy fancy me?" he asked, propping his arm against the wall and looking up at Eskel's face.

"I like you Jaskier," Eskel said firmly, giving him a quick kiss. "And I'm also super horny, so I hope that's enough a reason for you?"

"Your hot-ass... ass is reason enough for me," Jaskier chuckled and pulled Eskel in for a kiss. Eskel was warm on his lips and his hot tongue in Jaskier's mouth was already driving him crazy.

"Bedroom," Eskel panted. "Quick, before we pass out from all the tequila shots we had tonight."

So Jaskier laid back comfortably on the bed, having already dropped his shirt and pants and he watched Eskel undress. Eskel didn't waste any time, pulling his shirt off in one swift motion and sliding his pants off together with his boxer shorts.

"What the fuck? What the... Shit, fuck, Eskel?!" Jaskier sat up on the bed, eyes wide with wonder.

"You okay, Jask?" Eskel turned to him, brows furrowed with worry.

"You walk around carrying this marvel of a dick in your pants and you didn't tell me?!" Jaskier gasped, his voice reaching incredibly high notes.

"When do you think would be the right time to tell you?" Eskel laughed, crawling up the bed and into Jaskier's arms. "'Yo, I'm Eskel, wanna see my marvelous cock?' This doesn't usually work out well."

"I usually don't propose to people immediately after seeing them, so I guess this could've actually worked," Jaskier replied with a seductive wink, his hands already roaming across Eskel's tattooed chest. His eyes, however, were fixed at Eskel's cock. "Gods, dick so bomb I will really have to marry you! I want to feel that between my legs every day for the rest of my life!"

"Watch out what you wish for," Eskel whispered in his ear, causing goosebumps on Jaskier's skin. "Or you might actually get it."

*****

The fourth time Jaskier has proposed to Eskel was when he caught a nasty cold in the middle of summer.

Jaskier was sitting on the couch, watching reruns of "The Great Cintran Bake Off", a cup of now cold tea in his hands. He scolded himself for having worn flip flops to work the other day - a heavy rain had caught him when he was going home in the night and he was soaking wet when he had finally reached his place. The next day he woke up with a throbbing headache and runny nose and had to call in sick.

There was a knock on the door, but Jaskier waved it off. If it was the postman, he'd leave the parcel or letter at the door, and Jaskier didn't expect anyone else.

A moment later there was another, louder knock, followed by Eskel's soft baritone voice. "Jaskier, are you home? It's me."

Jaskier slipped off the couch, wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and shuffled to the door to open it.

"Aww man, you look like shit," Eskel said when Jaskier let him in.

"Good to see you too, Eskel," Jaskier replied weakly and shuffled back to his living room to plop back on the couch.

"Geralt has told me you called in sick and asked me to come over and check up on you," Eskel followed him into the living room, placing takeaway bags on the table next to the couch. He put a hand on Jaskier's forehead, worrying his lip between his teeth. "Good thing I have the whole day off. Someone needs to take care of you."

"I'll be fine," Jaskier mumbled from under the blanket.

"What did you eat today?" Eskel asked, eyeing the half empty tea cup on the table.

"Some Aspirin. Butter toast."

"Yeah, thought so," Eskel shot him a condescending look and grabbed the takeout bags. "That's why I came prepared."

He pulled out a container of hot chicken soup and another one with gyoza dumplings. He helped Jaskier sit up and wrapped the blanket around Jaskier's shoulders, so that he could eat comfortably on the couch.

"The chicken soup is what my grandma used to make whenever we were sick. She taught me how to prepare it," Eskel said with a hint of pride. "Eat it hot, you'll feel better in no time."

Jaskier ate a few spoons of the hot broth - it was deliciously salty, with lots of carrots, onions and noodles. He felt a pleasurable warmth already spreading around his stomach and he hummed softly. "Thank you, it's delicious."

"Now, eat it all up and go to bed. You need sleep," Eskel rubbed his back and Jaskier leaned in to rest his head on Eskel's shoulder. "I'll look after you today."

"You don't have to," Jaskier looked up at him, eyes fogged. "I'll take a nap and will be fine. No need to stay around and waste your day off work on me."

Eskel cleared his throat before placing a quick kiss on Jaskier's forehead. "It's... It's not a waste of time to be around you." He lowered his gaze and fixed his eyes on the floor. "You're my friend."

"... with benefits," Jaskier chuckled, then got a coughing fit. "Sorry."

"Let's get you to bed," Eskel commanded with a light smile. "You need to sleep for the soup to work its wonders."

Jaskier slept for over four hours. He was woken up by a warm hand on his forehead - Eskel checking his temperature. He sat up with a groan, but he was relieved to find that his head didn't hurt anymore.

Eskel put a tray with a bowl of steamy hot dumplings in Jaskier's lap and sat next to him on the edge of the bed. "Time for lunch," he smiled. "I also made you some ginger tea with honey - it's much better for your health than that generic supermarket shit you had earlier."

"I don't know if I should thank you or feel fucking offended," Jaskier narrowed his eyes. He then tried one of the gyozas and let out an appreciative hum. "Okay, I've decided to thank you, cause these are fucking delicious! Did you made them yourself?"

Eskel nodded with a smile.

"Gods, I'm so lucky to have you," Jaskier whispered between bites. "Fucking handsome, so caring, great cook, dick so bomb it leaves me breathless... Eskel, I'm going to-"

"Yes, I know, you will ask me to marry you," Eskel cut him off, letting out a breathy laugh.

"I wanted to offer you a blowjob once I get better," Jaskier retorted with a grin. "But marrying you would come with the same benefits, so I guess I should actually ask you to marry me one day."

"Who knows," Eskel replied, eyes unfocused and looking at the wall with a soft smile. "Maybe one day I will actually accept your crazy proposal. Now finish your food and let me get you some more Aspirin."

*****

The fifth time Jaskier has proposed to Eskel was when Eskel saved his life.

It was a chilly night at the beginning of autumn. Geralt has left earlier to run some errands and Jaskier was closing up the coffee shop by himself. Having worked there for over half a year now, he knew exactly what to do and it didn't bother him to be left alone for the last hour of work every now and then. He closed the front door, swept the floors, counted the money and put it away into the little safe in their back room. He turned off all the lights and went out, closing the back door behind him.

"Your wallet and phone, pretty boy," he heard a hoarse voice behind his back. 

He turned around to see a man, hiding his face under a big hood, both hands kept hidden in the hoodie's vast pockets. Jaskier shook himself out of the initial shock and looked closer at the person - it wasn't a man, more a teenager, sixteen years old at best. He was grinning awfully at Jaskier, eyes mad and darting, probably on drugs.

"Okay, let's take it easy," Jaskier held his hands up, shivering a little. "I don't think you want to do this."

"Shut the fuck up! Wallet." The guy moved closer to Jaskier pulling a small knife out of his pocket. 

Jaskier instinctively scooted back, his back bumping painfully against the cold door of the coffee shop. This was getting serious and he was sure even his wit wouldn't help him get out of the situation. He looked at the knife's blade shining in the weak light of the few street lamps, took a quick glance at the guy's wild eyes and gritted teeth - he was definitely under some substance's influence, so Jaskier convinced himself that arguing with the guy or trying to talk some reason into him would make no sense. He exhaled slowly, trying not to shake too much while still eyeing the sharp blade in the guy's hand. He tried looking around without acting too obvious - but there was nobody in the street.

"Okay, I'm gonna reach into my pocket and take my wallet out," Jaskier said weakly, trying to sound as calm as possible. "No need to use the knife, okay?"

"Don't tell me what to do!" the guy shouted at him, waving the knife around. 

Jaskier looked up and prayed silently to the gods. He hoped that as soon as he'd handed the guy his stuff, he'd be gone and leave him alone. All he heard was the annoying sound of his teeth clicking and his rushed heartbeat ringing in his ears.

"Leave him alone!" Jaskier heard a growl coming from the end of the alleyway. Before Jaskier could recognise Eskel in the dark figure, he rushed at the robber, knocking him down. The guy fell on his back, losing the knife and groaning painfully. He scrambled to his feet and launched at Eskel, clearly going for a fight. Jaskier watched him lose his balance and fall on his back again, after Eskel had punched him straight in the face. "Get the fuck out of here!" Eskel's voice was dark and threatening, nothing alike the soft baritone Jaskier was used to. Eskel kicked the guy once, before Jaskier grabbed his arm and pulled him away.

"It's okay, Esk," he said quietly. "I'm okay. It's okay."

"If I ever see you around here again, I swear to god..." Eskel started, teeth gritted and jaw clenched. He watched as the guy got up as quickly as he could and limped away, leaving him panting and with a very scared Jaskier clinging to his arm.

Jaskier let out a deep breath, steadying himself on Eskel's arm. Eskel turned to him and grabbed him in a tight embrace. "I'm okay, I'm okay," Jaskier kept repeating, even though his legs felt weak and his teeth were still clicking a little.

"Gods, I'm so glad nothing happened to you," Eskel breathed and kissed Jaskier's forehead. Then he kissed his cheeks and left a soft kiss on Jaskier's lips. He was shaking a little too. "If he'd hurt you, I swear to god..."

Jaskier put a finger on his lips to shut him up. "Thank you, Eskel. I'm so glad you were here."

Eskel huffed. "Good thing I came over... Wanted to ask you to go out and grab a beer with me, but now..." he gestured around, while giving Jaskier a worried look.

"Eskel," Jaskier hugged him, hiding his face in Eskel's broad chest. He felt the stress leave him, as Eskel's strong hands rubbed circles on his back. He let out another deep breath, held back the tears prickling at his eyes, smiled faintly. "You saved my life, quite literally. So, since I now owe you my life, will you marry me?"

"Ahh, there it is," Eskel let out a breathy laugh, placing another kiss on Jaskier's forehead. "I will take you out tonight first."

*****

And then Eskel has proposed to Jaskier.

"Hey, Jaskier," Geralt looked up from the delivery boxes and greeted him when he entered their coffee shop. "Before you change into your work clothes, can you go over to Eskel's diner and pick up a parcel for me? He said he grabbed it for me this morning."

"Sure thing," Jaskier replied, putting his jacket back on. "Be back in ten."

"Yeah," Geralt nodded towards him with a soft smile tugging at his lips. "No rush."

When Jaskier entered the diner, Eskel greeted him at the door and took his work apron off, throwing it to a coworker. "Good to see you, Jaskier," he said eagerly.

"Hi, Geralt said I was supposed to pick something from you for him?"

"Uh yeah... I don't have it," Eskel grinned with an apologetic look on his face, rubbing the back of his neck. "But you can come with me, I have something to show you."

"How long is it gonna take?" Jaskier hesitated at the door. "Told Geralt I'll be back in a minute."

"You don't really have to," Eskel smiled at him. "Asked Geralt for a day off for you today, he's already got someone to cover today's shift for you."

Jaskier propped his hands on his hips and eyed Eskel suspiciously. "Okay, what is going on?"

"Can't tell ya," Eskel reached out and grabbed Jaskier's hand. "Come with me."

They strolled slowly through the city's streets. Eskel was holding Jaskier's hand all the time, rubbing small circles on it with his thumb every now and then. Jaskier looked down at their intertwined fingers and smiled. Eskel's hand was strong and warm, his olive skin soft under Jaskier's touch.

"How come your skin and your hair are so much darker than Geralt's?" he wondered aloud.

"Geralt's a weirdo," Eskel blurted out without thinking, causing Jaskier to chuckle. "Also, he's old."

"Mind you, I'm the same age as him," Jaskier stuck his tongue out.

"Technically, yes. But you're different," Eskel smiled. "When I'm around you, I feel like you're more my age, while Geralt is already like our dad."

"I'm really glad he doesn't hear us now," Jaskier laughed, squeezing Eskel's hand tightly. "Okay, where are you taking me and what is going on?"

"Ah, we're here," Eskel stopped them. "You'll find everything out soon enough."

Jaskier took a look at the heavy steel gate they found themselves in front of. Botanical garden. Jaskier has always wanted to go there but never found the time to do so. He smiled fondly at Eskel and squeezed his hand. So it was a surprise date, a nice walk through the narrow paths between colorful flowerbeds. There were little to no people, since it was a weekday before noon - everyone was either at work or in school and they could enjoy their time together in privacy. A fuzzy heat spread through his chest and he gave Eskel a wide smile. "Thank you for bringing me here, I love it."

"You ain't seen nothing yet," Eskel grinned, grabbed Jaskier's hand and led him inside.

After a while of walking around, Eskel sat Jaskier on a secluded bench in front of a weeping willow tree. On both sides of the bench were flowerbeds of blooming autumn flowers - cyclamens, russian sage, and marigolds. Jaskier turned his face to the sun, letting it warm his skin, and inhaled the mix of strong flowery scents. "It's beautiful," he sighed. "But what's the occasion? It's neither my birthday nor yours... So what's the deal here?"

In reply, Eskel grabbed Jaskier's face and pulled him into a passionate kiss. His lips were warm and plush and so soft on Jaskier's and Jaskier immediately sunk into the sensation, slumping in Eskel's arms. Eskel was holding Jaskier's face firmly, kissing Jaskier so deeply, hungrily, as if he was afraid Jaskier would never want to kiss him again. But Jaskier leaned into the kiss, pressing his body flush to Eskel's, wrapping his arms around his broad shoulders, opening his mouth to welcome him.

"Jaskier, listen," Eskel grabbed his hand and exhaled deeply, when they parted their lips. "I know we're not technically together, like we never put the 'boyfriends' label on ourselves, but I feel that we have a strong connection going on between us anyway. And I know that you're much older than me, but I don't really mind, and if you don't mind, then..." He stopped for a moment, worrying his lip between his teeth, trying to find the right words.

Jaskier stared at him with interest and a hint of worry, looking between their intertwined fingers and Eskel's face.

"I've never met anyone like you, Jaskier," Eskel continued, squeezing Jaskier's hand between his strong fingers. "You're funny and smart, you're like sunshine embodied. You're so beautiful and so confident in who you are and I admire you and... I love you."

Jaskier felt tears already brimming at the corners of his eyes and he exhaled deeply, trying not to burst out crying at the very moment. But then Eskel slid down from the bench and got on one knee, causing Jaskier to gasp loudly.

"Marry me, Jaskier," Eskel said, expression serious but eyes hopeful. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small dark blue box, and pressed it into Jaskier's hands. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You might think I'm crazy but I've really thought it through and if you're ready to take that leap of faith with me, then I'll be the happiest person in the world."

"You mean it." Jaskier's voice was as quiet as a whisper, as he looked at the little box in his hands and then at Eskel's face. "You really want this?"

Eskel nodded, his throat too tight to speak. He squeezed Jaskier's hands between his a little bit tighter.

Jaskier opened the box. He found a small simple ring in white gold inside, holding a tiny aquamarine at the top. He let out a whimper, before pulling the ring out and placing it on his finger. He pulled Eskel up from his knees and into a kiss. "I knew from day one we're gonna end up like this!"

-----

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

[murderousginger]

Cops and Robbers

Peaky Blinders story Chapter 1

Masterlist

Warnings: none. General fluff and sass.

Word count: 4,020

--- Note: I blame @blinder-secrets for her thirst photos and @imagine-that-100 for her general amazingness and telling me I have to write this. Enjoy. 😂 ---

You had been calling them your boys since you were 8. At seven, your mother had taken you to have a playdate with Ada while she talked to Polly about grown up business. Much to your mother's and Ada's dismay, you were much more interested in playing cops and robbers with the boys. 

At first, Tommy would only let you be the damsel in distress, because even back then Tommy made all the rules. You grew tired of being the damsel quickly, and had no problem voicing your opinions. 

"I could be a robber!" You insist, stamping your foot down one morning after church. 

"No you can't, robbers don't wear pretty dresses," John said, earning an elbow in his side from Arthur. 

"John's got you there, (Y/N)," Arthur said. "And why's you wanna play with us, anyhow? I bet Ada's got another doll for ya. Playing with boys is dirty work."

Tommy nods as Arthur puts John in a headlock and the mass of them get into a wrestling match.

"Robbers can wear fancy dresses if they steal them!" You exclaimed, jumping into the fray. 

Arthur let up on his grip on John once he realized you had joined the tousle and did his best to back away, but you gripped onto Tommy's shirt and went rolling on the grass, kicking and hitting until you rolled on top of him and pressed him into the dirt.

"Let me play, Tommy Shelby, or I'll tell everyone I won," you said. 

Arthur chuckled and John let out a loud laugh as Tommy's face went red.

"I only let you because you're Ada's friend and we're not supposed to hurt girls," Tommy huffed as he dumped you off of him. "If you want to play, fine, but you get to be a copper with Arthur."

"I want to be a robber!" You yelled, upset that you weren't getting your way.

"I have to be a robber, you see, because I'm too smart to be a copper," Tommy said, losing patience. "And I want John as my robber. So you get to be a copper. Maybe next time if you don't go crying to Pol."

And after that day, they were your boys. You played with them. You fought with them. And you loved them with the fierceness of your heart. They stopped Timmy McKee from bullying you at 11, and you helped them in little ways here and there, like helping Tommy get a note to a girl, or sneaking Arthur his favorite candy after he got in trouble for a fight, or even helping John with his homework a time or two. You even got Ada to join in the games a few times and became better acquainted with her. She became your confidante in things you weren't willing to tell the boys.

Your mother was unimpressed, voicing her worries to Polly about you being "boy crazy" at such a young age, but Polly just smiled and brushed her comments off.

"She's not boy crazy," Polly said before taking a drag of her cigarette. "She's power hungry. Dangerous ambition. I like that one."

Your mother had huffed but let you be, and stopped fighting it after a few choice words from Polly through the years. Your father shrugged and decided that if you wanted to adopt more brothers, you were allowed to do so. 

Polly quickly became Aunt Polly, and you became another rowdy body at the table, dirty feet and mouth wide.

The years went on and you stuck around, helping the boys with their mischief and gossiping with Ada about boys and the girls fawning over the Shelby boys. You were just as much a sister as their own blood, and they tormented you as such.

When they went off to the war, you decided to help with Finn and help run errands for Polly. With the men folk fighting, Polly was running the small illegal business Tommy had started, keeping contacts open and illegal activities flowing through Birmingham.

Before the boys returned, you had found a nice job in London working at the Sabini club. You filled drinks and kept your head down. The club was filled with drugs and debauchery but as long as you filled drinks and kept your mouth shut around the right people, you were a blessing. You were always on time and kept away from the extracurriculars that occupied and ruined many a barmaid before you. 

Sabini had gotten so fed up with barmaids being found unconscious or otherwise preoccupied with a gentleman in a dark corner that he made a rule that no one could drink on the clock. All drinks bought for the girls were to be given once their shift was over. Like drinks were the only problem. 

You kept in touch with Polly, asking about the family and letting her know how you were doing. The money from the club paid for a modest flat in Birmingham near your mum that you mostly visited when you had multiple days off and could find a ride. Otherwise you paid one of the other girls, Liza, a small fee to sleep on her couch. 

You knew the boys were back from the war, and that Tommy had reclaimed his business from Polly. You knew Tommy wanted to expand his presence and power, and his brothers were all too eager to help him along. You even knew that they must have been doing something right, because you could hear the whispers about "those Peaky Blinders" and "that gypsy Shelby family" all the way into London. You hadn't properly seen most of the family in years and yet people in Birmingham gave you respect you otherwise wouldn't have had. You talked to Polly here and there, checking in like, and you talked to Ada when you caught her. 

Ada was always busy, with her head in the clouds and a man after her heart. You left her to her daydreams and followed yours to the money that could fix almost anything. Money may not buy happiness but it helped with comforts, and that was as close as a girl like you could imagine you'd get to being happy.

The night at the club started like any other. You wore your flapper dress with gold and maroon and your matching maroon heels. You took drinks to the patron tables; quick to slink away with a smile before a hand wandered. You were getting surprisingly good at staying just out of reach and keeping a confident smile on your lips even when you wanted to hit a man with your tray.

There was never a scarcity of available girls or men, and so any wandering eye moved on rather quickly if they determined any amount of work was required. So if you smiled and slipped through the crowd confidently, you were safe from most wandering hands. 

As you went to put an order in at the bar, you noticed another set of girls gossiping while they waited on their drinks. 

"What's the news tonight, ladies?" You said, joining the two to make a circle. "A regular find a new victim? Sid skip out on his tab again?"

"How about those Blinders taking a seat in the middle of the club?" A brunette named Grace said. 

"Blinders?" You said, "In London? What are they doing here?"

"No one's asked," she giggled. "They haven't been served yet. Once Sabini finds out, I'm not sure they'll be walking out on their own two feet."

"Well then," you said with fake contemplation, "I guess I'll have to go see if I can get a tip before that happens." 

You winked at the girls as they gasped and giggled. 

"You wouldn't!" Grace said. "Oh you're so bad!"

You took your tray and with a wink and a smile you backed away from the girls and made your way to the middle of the room. You found three men sitting at a table, coats and hats still on, looking very uncomfortable as they watched the show around them. 

"John, stop gawking," Tommy's voice rumbled. "Arthur, calm down." 

You slipped past a woman sniffing drugs off of her hand and another man pressing a different girl against a nearby table as her hand inched toward his crotch. 

"If you missed me so much, you could have just asked Pol when I'd be back in Birmingham next," you said dryly. "What are you drinking before you start this fight?"

Arthur squinted at you before he tapped his hand on the table. 

"(Y/N)!" He exclaimed, "Why, I haven't seen you in years. You were just a kid."

"We all have to grow up sometime," you said, patting him on the shoulder. "Tommy, John, causing mischief as always?"

Tommy was frowning, looking at you closely, and John was frozen in his spot as you moved around the table. 

"What are you doing here, (Y/N)?" Tommy finally said. "Pol didn't mention you worked for Sabini." 

"She wouldn't have, though, would she Tommy?" John said. "Not unless there was good reason." 

"A girl's got to make a living," you said. "If you taught me anything, Tommy, you taught me nothing comes in the way of money or family." 

"Unless it is money or family," Tommy said. "How long have you been hiding in London?"

"About a year," you said. "Running for Pol introduced me to plenty of people, and Sabini liked that I keep my mouth shut when business comes through."

"Well then," Tommy said. "How about you get us all a round of whiskeys, and one for yourself, for this unexpected reunion?" 

"I can do that," you said evenly, "but my drink won't be able to be poured until I'm done for the night. House orders." 

"House orders?" Arthur murmured. "They got fucking in the aisles and snow in every corner but a barmaid can't get a drink?"

You shrug. John still hasn't stopped watching you, so you move closer to his side of the table.

"You're being awful quiet," you nudged, "that's not the John boy I know." 

"I can't tell if I see any of the (Y/N) I know," John said. "That dress doesn't look like anything I remember." 

His eyes move over your figure slowly, and you feel your eyebrow raise in defiance. You shimmy slightly as his eyes go from your hips to your heels. 

"Robbers can wear fancy dresses, if they steal them," you said with a smile. 

A wide smile spreads across John's face as he recognizes the statement. 

"So is that what you've been up to, (Y/N)," Tommy rumbled. "Have you been playing cops and robbers without us? Find better partners?"

"You'll always be my boys, Tommy," you said. "I think aunt Pol would tell you if I got myself tied to another wagon."

"Pol only told us not to bother you," Arthur said. "That you had your own life going and you were doing fine at it."

"Seeing as you're big enough to work for Sabini, you're big enough to answer for yourself," Tommy said, a spark in his blue eyes as he leaned his elbows on the table and lit a cigarette. "How about you come back home and be our robber again? You can barkeep at The Garrison and keep us company in the back. You'll make better than here. If Harry can't keep you, I'll pay you myself." 

"But I thought I was a copper, Tommy," you said playfully. His jaw ticked as you moved your dress to sparkle in the low light. "Remember?" 

"I'm starting to think you're too smart to be a copper, too, (Y/N)" Tommy said as he pressed his hands together and pointed at you, "but don't get a big head about it." 

"I might be amenable to that," you said, smile widening into a Cheshire grin. "Only girl to best Tommy Shelby might finally get recognition." 

Arthur chuckled, opening his arm to you. You walk over to him and he moved his hand to your waist and pats your hip as he looks over to Tommy. 

"I missed this one, Tom," he said. "Finally found a mouth that gives you a run for your money."

"That mouth still get you in trouble, yeah?" John said, leaning back in his chair and putting a leg on the table. "Hard to believe Sabini could muzzle you." 

"No one muzzles me, John boy," you said moving out of Arthur's reach as you point at John. "Is your dick still doing all your thinking?" 

John turned red and sat up as he started to scowl. Tommy and Arthur both chuckling low.

"Right, well, before too long I suspect we're going to get a visit from your boss," Tommy said, smacking the table for attention. "So you need to go quit. Don't fight me now, (Y/N), just go quit. Arthur and I have some business to attend, but John, you can take the car and take (Y/N) home in Birmingham. She's done in London. I'll talk to Harry in the morning and you can start tomorrow night. Don't," he waved at your dress, "wear that. Dress how you like, but not that."

You open your mouth to fight Tommy, only to see Sabini's men whispering in the back. You close your mouth and nod, gripping your tray. 

"Looks like you have less time than you thought. I'll be outside in ten minutes, John boy." 

You walk quickly back to the bar and find Liza, the girl you stay with, and let her know you won't be staying any longer. You say goodbye to a few of the girls and with a few hugs, you slip into the back to get your coat and bag. You stop at the bar and tell bartender Jack that you quit, deciding to let him tell whoever else needs to know. 

"I'm done, Jack," you said. "I'm going back home." 

Jack looks confused before getting angry and raising his hands. 

"But you're my best girl, (Y/N)!" He tells over the music as he throws glasses into the sink. "You're the only one that's not distracted by snow or dick."

"You'll find a new best girl, Jack" you say walking backwards toward the door before turning your back and walking away. "Get 'em off the snow and they're all your best girls!"

You shrug your coat on the rest of the way before looking around the exit and noticing three men surrounding the Shelby table and voices getting louder. 

"Now's not the time to test your fighting skills, (Y/N)," John said as he hooks arms with you and walks you out of the building at a dizzying pace. 

"What's the rush?" You asked, being towed along in your heels. 

"Tommy's about to take over," John said matter of fact-ly, ushering you toward a car parked near the front. 

"I'd get your door but you're not a girl," John teases, opening his own door and jumping in. 

You open the door and barely slide in before he's turned the car on and started moving forward. 

You jump as a loud crash comes from the club and the music stops. All you hear is Arthur yelling into the mic "by orders of the PEAKY FUCKING BLINDERS." 

John laughs as you slam your door shut and you take off into the night to return to Birmingham. 

As the club got farther away, John settled into his seat. He cleared his throat. 

"I didn't even ask if you needed to pick up anything…" he said, leaving the statement open.

"I don't have much at Liza's, and she can keep most of it," you said, planning your purse on the floorboards and opening your long coat. "Anything I'm missing too bad I can always write or come get."

"Hmm," John sounded. 

"Hmm," you mimicked back.

A silence filled the car. 

"Alright, John," you said as you took your coat off. "I'm still me. You're still you. It's been a few years, but for fucks sake, relax." 

John exhaled a chuckle before bumping your shoulder. 

"Still read me like a book, I see," he said. 

"Still haven't picked up a book, I see," you said as you bumped back. 

"I let Tommy do the thinking," John shot back. "Tommy's the brains, Arthur's the brawn…"

"And you use your Shelby blues to whore any girl that'll have you," you sang back, crinkling your nose, "I see things haven't changed."

"You have," John huffed back. "When did you become a girl?"

"I've always been a girl, John boy," you spat back, "you've just been too dumb to notice." 

John laughs and you lay your head on his shoulder, squeezing his arm. 

"Might've missed this," you whisper right before you let out a yawn. 

"Yeah? Well curl up there and take a nap," John said. "I'll get us home." 

"Okay, John boy," you said as you curled your legs up on the chair and leaned on him more. "I am a little sad I couldn't get that drink with my boys. Maybe tomorrow."

"Maybe," John sounded.

---

"(Y/N), wake up," John whispered as she gently shook you. "We made it back to the garage. I need to walk you home."

You whimper and try to dig yourself more into his shoulder, not wanting to wake. John chuckles and lightly taps your jaw.

"Rise and shine," he sung playfully.

"Why couldn't you have just driven me home?" You whine, finally moving off of his shoulder. 

"Because," John said and stepped out of the car. "Tommy's got a bottle of whiskey hidden in the garage. Thought you wanted that drink."

Your eyes shot open as you tried to wake up.

"Whiskey?" You murmured.

"Thought that would wake you," he said, pulling a half empty bottle from behind some things and shook it at you. 

"Just one," you said, trying not to rub your eyes and ruin your makeup. "One. Then home."

"Ohhh," John razzed. "Spoil sport. That's not my fun (Y/N)." 

"Last time Harry saw me I was a teen getting my da from the Garrison because he was too drunk to walk home by himself and mum was a mess," you said, getting out of the car with your bag and fixing your dress. "I'd prefer I be a little put together for my first day working for him."

"How is your da, speaking of?" John asked as he held the bottle out to tease you, "and your mum?"

"Passed," you said flatly, reaching for the bottle. John's smile faultered, letting the bottle dip into your hands. "Pa, at least. The war. Mum works at the washer. I help out." 

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said. 

You shrug, taking the cap off the bottle. 

"We all lost something in the war," you said before taking a long drag from the bottle. 

"You're still as wild as ever," John said, nudging the bottle up until whiskey splashed down your chin. You gulped and lowered the bottle quickly as you dabbed the whiskey with your wrist.

"And you're still as much trouble," you said, licking the whiskey from your lips. 

John tilted his head, watching you closely for a moment in the dark garage. You watched him back, eyebrow quirked in a question. He squinted before taking a step forward and reached out to wipe a bead of whiskey from your chin and put his finger in his mouth. 

"Only as much trouble as you're willin'," he said in a low tone before taking the bottle from you and taking a big swig himself. 

"John boy," you said, taking the bottle back for another swig. "What are you doing? I know all your tricks. I helped you make a few of them."

"Thought you said you just wanted one drink," he taunted back, a boyish grin spreading across his face in triumph.

You take a deep drink and hum as you hand it back to him, watching him take one last drink before putting the cap back on and setting it on the ground near the car. 

"I need to be drunk if you're going to try me," you said smiling as you walk backward out of the garage, motioning for John to walk you home. 

"So's you're giving me a chance," John said as he tried to keep a serious face before laughing and looking down. 

He kicked a rock at his feet before looking back up at you. You raised your hand, beckoning him to come to you. Every step he moved forward, you stepped back, grin widening as you let out a giggle. 

"How about this," you said, a finger raised to stop him as you stepped out of your maroon heels. "Take your boots off. We do this as we've done before. First to the street wins."

"Wins what?" John asked, already leaning down to untie his boots. 

You pick up your heels to place them in your bag and realize you left your coat in the car as a breeze outside of the garage makes you shiver. 

"Wins the choice of if you get to kiss me goodnight or not," you said, watching John's eyes light up as he struts to your side with his boots in hand. 

He gives the slightest nod and you're already running down the gravel driveway, laughing far too loud in the dead of night, but you don't care because John is right behind you laughing just as loud. 

You both race on the gravel, too busy laughing to complain about the pain. You can hear him right behind you as you feel a warm hand circle your waist and pick you up, spinning you around so he's the first to the road. 

"No fair!" You shriek, kicking and twisting in his arms.

"You didn't give any rules!" He laughs back, putting you down once both of his feet are flatly on the road. You pout as John sets you down on the gravel, a big smile on his face. 

"I win," he said in the cocky tone you've heard him use on so many girls before. 

"You cheated," you retorted.

"You expected more from a Shelby?" He said, eyebrow cocked as he mocked you. 

"Shut up and take me home," you said, defeated. 

John laughed and took off his coat, encircling you in the smell of tobacco and warmth. He held his arm out for you to take and begin your walk down to your home. 

"I'm just a few down from mum," you said. 

"Why don't you live with her?" He asked, chewing on his lip.

"After I started taking more jobs with Pol, she decided what I was doing wasn't 'lady-like' and would hurt my chances at a husband. Said I couldn't live under her roof if I wanted to work like a man, so aunt Pol found me a spot down the road." 

"Yer mum can be a right bitch," John said, causing you to laugh. 

"You don't know the half of it," you say, squeezing his arm. 

"We all turned out alright," he said. 

"We did," you agreed. 

You walk in comfortable silence until you get to your doorstep. You let go of his arm and go to give him his coat but he stops you. 

"I'll get it 'morrow," he said, shuffling his feet. "Gotta get yours back, anyway." 

You nod, not sure what to do. You fumble your bag, reaching for your keys. John clears his throat, stepping forward.

"I think I won a choice earlier," he said, nose to nose with you. 

"You did," you said breathlessly. John smirks, looking you in the eye before licking his lips and looking at yours. He leans in and you freeze to the spot as his lips barely graze yours.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)," John whispered against your lips, raising every hair on your body. 

John turned around, shit-eating grin on his face as he trudged back to the house. You exhale, frustrated. 

"Goodnight John!" You yelled. 

All you hear is his deep chuckle somewhere in the dark.

[quillandink333]

Scarlet Carnations ~ Part I

BotW Link X Zelda ~ Detective AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.9k

WARNINGS: death, murder, loss, trauma, blood and gore, terrorism, organized crime, self-harm

Summary: Inspector Zelda Hyrule, assisted by the faithful Constable Link Fyori, is infamous for cracking the most confounding of cases in a town dominated by crime. Her latest assignment is to solve the murder of her own godmother, Impa Sheikah, the late CEO of Sheikah Tech. Incorporated, while staying under the radar of the dreaded Yiga organization.

Part I • Part II • Part III • Part IV • Part V • Part VI • Part VII • Epilogue • Masterlist

A deafening blast jolted me out of my slumber. I snapped upright.

As a member of law enforcement, I was painfully familiar with the sound of a gunshot, and that was exactly what I’d just heard.

I strained my ears with bated breath, trying to hear over my own thundering heartbeat.

Loud, frantic footsteps raced down creaky, wooden stairs. Then a terrified scream filled the halls of my childhood home.

I tore away the sheets and rushed to where the scream seemed to have come from. When I reached the parlour was when I stumbled upon the scene. There, right at the foot of my mother’s memorial, was my godmother’s cold, lifeless corpse. Kneeling beside her was her granddaughter, Paya, weeping into her open palms in shock.

Only a minute or two had passed since I’d awoken at the sound of gunfire. “Wait here,” I ordered, then made a break for the front entrance, the nearest and most instinctual escape route.

But when I threw the doors open, there wasn’t a soul to be found.

I returned to the parlour with my tail between my legs. Then my toe hit something heavy and metallic that clacked underfoot. When I looked down and saw what it was, I froze. With caution, I ever so slowly stepped away from the weapon.

“Great...” I muttered, seeing as now it would have my toe prints on it. But the longer I looked at it, I realized I’d seen this revolver somewhere before.

Then it hit me. It hit me like a two-ton train car.

I quickly made sure Paya’s head was turned. Then with terribly trembling hands, I did what I had to do and carefully tucked it away in my nightgown.

I’d feared the precinct wouldn’t allow me to participate in the investigation seeing as I’d been on the scene at the time of the crime. However, it seemed they trusted me enough to even appoint me as the lead investigator. Granted, I had done a lot to earn their trust over the past three years, but this was unheard of.

Nevertheless, I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. The next morning, at seven o’clock sharp, I returned to the scene of the crime equipped with all the necessary tools of my trade.

I looked out the window of the cramped police buggy at our destination in utter astoundment. There were already droves of officers there, awaiting the arrival of me and my partner. The sight of the place I’d once called home being chained off and hidden from the public like this was jarring, to say the least. Of all the strange crime scenes I’d seen, this was the strangest. I never could’ve imagined I’d be returning here, not to eat Auntie Impa’s delicious pork buns or to hear Auntie Purah talk about her latest technological endeavours, but for work. How could I have?

“Zelda! Good—good morning!” greeted a rather skittish Paya when she opened the door for us.

“Good morning, Paya.”

She nearly lost her smile when she noticed Constable Fyori standing beside me. “Please, come in.” She stepped aside, and he and I entered into the low-ceilinged yet stately vestibule, removing our shoes and leaving them by the door. “Can I get either of you anything? Some tea, maybe?”

My assistant opened his mouth, but I raised a hand, silencing him. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. We have important business to take care of.”

“Oh, yes, of course! Silly me,” she chortled. “I’ll let you get to it, then.”

The first order of business was to examine the body. In most cases, a specialist would be needed to perform an autopsy, but unlike most inspectors, I had the forensic knowhow to take care of it myself. One might have said this was a side effect of my hobbies and my avid interest in all things related to science that I’d harboured since grade school. However, a full autopsy complete with the weighing of the body and the removal of the organs would come later. For now, it would suffice to determine two simple things: the time of death and the cause of death.

But before I could even get close to the body, I was stopped by my assistant, who grabbed me gently by the arm.

“You don’t have to do this,” he uttered in his typical, mousy tone. “I can call for someone else to come and take care of it for you.”

The look of real and profound concern seated deep in his aquamarine eyes pulled at my heartstrings. It had been a year, roughly, since he’d first begun working under me. He was always so worried for me, and I always felt terrible because of it. I unhooked his hand from my arm, putting on a warm smile. “I’ll be okay, Link.”

He looked at me as if to ask, “Are you sure?”

“Really, it’s fine. Don’t worry,” I insisted. “Thank you, though.” This finally got him to return my smile, albeit only briefly.

I already had a decent estimate of the time of death. The period we were looking at was between half ten at night, when the last person awake (which had just so happened to be me) had gone to bed, and three in the morning, when the gunshot had given me that rude awakening. Really I should have examined the body as soon as I’d discovered it. In most other cases I worked on, I even wished I’d been the first on the scene, before the stiff had yet to even go stiff. Of course, the one time I happened to be one of the first to discover a murder, it had to be like this.

And yet, until I knew who was responsible for this atrocity, grieving could wait.

Right off the bat, I could tell that this had been a homicide. This may have seemed obvious to someone like Paya, but as a detective, I’d had to forcefully train myself to assume nothing and question everything. Based on the characteristics of the hole running straight through her neck, however, I determined that the gun had been shot from too far a distance for it to have been suicidal. Auntie Impa’s arms simply weren’t long enough.

But for a death caused by hemorrhage from a severed jugular vein, there was a shockingly small amount of blood. The rush-woven mat beneath her was nearly spotless, and I knew from experience how difficult it was to get stains out of these mats. Even when I checked underneath the mat, there was still nothing. No blood, and no bullet.

With a final nod, I stood up and signalled the other officers to take the body away.

“Now, let’s see here...” I said to myself, scanning the area immediately surrounding the corpse before approaching my mother’s altar. But when I laid eyes on the damage it had sustained, I stumbled back.

Though she hadn’t been a follower of the same faith held by the Sheikahs, my mother’s memory had been enshrined here because, like myself, they’d been like a second family to her.

With all due caution, I picked up what remained of her photograph. The glass was shattered, and a bullet had completely erased her face.

If this wasn’t a sign of the Yiga organization, I didn’t have a clue what was. Who else would’ve borne such ill will toward Hilda Hyrule, the town’s beloved last mayor who’d been dead ever since the tragic “accident” at City Hall eighteen years prior? That massacre had been what had ushered in their age of power, and with no one left to stand in their way, they’d been terrorizing the city ever since.

Before I’d even had the chance to begin my analysis, I heard Paya’s timid footsteps shuffling up to me. “Zelda?” she whispered, obnoxiously tapping her finger on my shoulder. “Excuse me...”

I turned my head and forced a grin. “What is it?”

“Umh, I didn’t know he’d be accompanying you today.” I didn’t even have to follow her gaze to know who she was eyeing.

I suppressed a sigh. “Constable Fyori is my partner,” I reminded her politely. “I take him with me on all of my investigations.”

“Yes, I know, but...” Now her gaze was nervously flitting back and forth between me and Link. “I-I wasn’t prepared to see him again after so long. What if—what if he says something to me?”

“He won’t,” I huffed. “Now, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh my, I’m so sorry,” she fretted. “I’ll get out of your hair.” I gave her a nod of the head in thanks, and she kindly stepped back and out of my space. But even after that, I could still feel her intense stare from across the room. I let out the sigh I’d been holding in. Sure, Paya was irritating, and I was going on maybe four or five hours of sleep at most, but there was no excuse for me to be irrational, especially since it would get me nowhere in my line of thinking. What I wouldn’t have done for a nice, hot cup of chamomile at that moment.

Based on the extreme angle of the bullet’s trajectory, one could tell at a glance where the shooter had to have been positioned. They’d have been standing above the altar with very little space between the two—definitely not enough for an entire person. Therefore the bullet that had taken the victim’s life had to have been a different one. This was backed up by the absence of any blood around the hole or anywhere else on the shrine. So why had I only heard one gunshot that night? And where in the world was the bullet responsible for Auntie Impa’s death if not on the scene of the crime?

After photographing the hole and scribbling my thoughts and observations down in my notebook, I began the procedure of extracting the bullet from the altar. This was a delicate task, one that I admittedly had a hard time trusting anyone else in the force with. Once I’d succeeded in retrieving the bullet, I determined it was of the same calibre as the one that had passed through the victim’s throat, meaning it was likely that it had been fired from the same gun. Unfortunately, all these facts corresponded with the weapon I’d found on the scene mere hours ago, two chambers of which were empty. There may have been no prints left on the trigger, but even so, I simply didn’t have it in me to run a striation comparison.

Standing up straight and taking a quick, deep breath, I turned to my assistant, who seemed to be investigating the mantelpiece. “Right, then, Fyori.” He turned his head as I approached him. “Anything to report?”

“No, madam,” he replied solemnly, avoiding my gaze and peering straight ahead over the top of my head.

“Is that so...?” I tapped the end of my pen against my chin habitually. “We seem to have a dreadfully diligent killer on our hands.” I gave the room another once-over from where I stood beside him. “You’ve been thorough in your search as always, I presume?”

“Of course.”

“And you found nothing? Not even a fingerprint?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“Then let’s move on,” I sighed, turning toward the doorway leading out into one of the building’s many corridors. He followed, just a few paces behind me. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to check since we got here.”

“That’s strange...” muttered Auntie Purah as she jumped through the footage captured by the front entrance’s security camera. “Symin, did I miss something?”

The Sheikah estate’s security supervisor shook his head. “Not that I could see.”

“Let me check it again.”

But even when she rewound and skipped through it a second time, the only person to appear was still myself on my initial search for the killer. Link gave me a furtive glance. I smiled at him in reassurance.

“Perhaps the other cameras caught something,” I suggested. “It would make sense that the culprit wouldn’t want to simply waltz right in through the front door.”

Auntie Purah looked to Symin. “Well, there are three other cameras, but two of them are so far removed from the scene that I doubt they’d be of much help.”

“And the third?” I asked, reaching for my notebook and something to write with.

“That would be the courtyard camera.”

“Ah, perfect!” The courtyard was located at the very centre of the property and served as an intersection between the four main hallways. “That one’s bound to have caught something. Let’s see.”

But this, too, would turn out fruitless. Throughout the night, there wasn’t even the shadow of a clue as to the killer’s movements.

“This...” I gaped. “This is impossible.” I knew for a fact that this particular model of camera was designed for the very purpose of protecting its footage from being altered or obstructed. Could the killer have made themselves invisible somehow?

“I don’t believe it.” Auntie Purah shook her head creakily. “Our company takes great pride in the reliability of our security cameras!”

Enraged, the tiny, old lady tried to stand up from her seat. Then a loud crack resounded throughout the cramped surveillance office. She screamed.

“Miss Purah, please calm down,” urged the kindly Symin, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she seethed, adjusting her glasses. “Thank you.” I didn’t know the man as well as I did the rest of the family as he had become a part of it a few years after I’d left the nest. However, it seemed like he would make a fine successor to Auntie Impa’s role of keeping her elder sister’s enduring impulsivity in check.

“There’s no reason to worry, Auntie. This is no fault of yours or your company’s,” I said, hoping to ease her pain a little. She’d suffered a terrible loss, and it was taking a great toll on her. It was difficult to watch such a brilliant mind come undone because of something like this. But after hearing my words, she looked up at me with a wrinkly smile. “My partner and I will just have to do an even more thorough inspection of the property tomorrow.”

The ride back to the precinct wasn’t a pleasant one. By the end of the day, my own mind had deteriorated into a swirling whirlpool of confusion, resentment, and woe. The investigation so far had borne so little results, it was hard to imagine that tomorrow’s search would be that much more successful. Of course there was still so much more that needed to be looked into, but right now, I just couldn’t see this turning out well. I still hadn’t solved the mystery behind my mother’s death in eighteen long years. Why, in this case, would I prove to be any less of a failure?

I curled my fists against my legs, trying my hardest to forget about the empty feeling in my stomach. Despite this, I knew I didn’t have the energy to do much more rational thinking today, if any at all.

Then my colleague broke the silence. “She was important to you, wasn’t she?” he asked, but such a personal question was strangely out of character for him.

“Yes.” I smiled sorrowfully into my lap. “I never really thought of her as a mother figure,” I admitted, “but she did put a lot of time and effort into raising me, in my actual mother’s stead.”

“She must’ve been a wonderful person.”

This made me laugh, to both his and my surprise. “Well, she would often scold me and Paya with the strictest attitude you can imagine, but I suppose she always had our best interests at heart.”

The longer I thought about Auntie Impa, the more I mulled over who could possibly have wanted her dead. She had already been getting on in age. Had the perpetrator’s need to kill her really been that dire? The only time people ever went that far was when their victim’s life would’ve put them in danger somehow if they’d have allowed them to go on living. But then again, there was the Yiga organization. They went around committing murders a couple times every week for seemingly no reason other than to flaunt their power. Perhaps Auntie Impa really had been just another one of their prey. Even so, I couldn’t shake the suspicion that there was more to it than that.

“Don’t you think it’s strange?”

The constable cocked his head, but kept his eyes on the road.

But then I stopped myself. There was still no proof of the Yiga’s involvement, so there was no point in bringing it up now. “Well, all of it is quite strange, frankly,” I amended. “The lack of blood, the missing bullet...”

“Could the killer have moved the body from somewhere else, perhaps?” he tentatively suggested.

“Very good, Link. That’s exactly what I’ve been theorizing.” The tips of his ears flushed, and he seemed to shrink back into his seat a little. “Oh, but then...wouldn’t that make it more likely for the cameras to have caught something?”

“That is true,” he concurred. “And there’s still been no sign of the murder weapon?”

I swallowed hard. “No...” My eyes flickered down toward my briefcase. “None.”

[gumnut-logic]

The Tattoo (Part Ten, Bit 2 - The End)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven - Bit 1| Bit 2 | Part Eight - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Part Nine | Part Ten - Bit 1 | Bit 2

Okay, I’ve been staring at this all day. I have no idea what I’ve written anymore so I’m just going to dump this here and run ::hugs::

For @vegetacide​ cos it is her fault. Many thanks to @tsarinatorment​ @vegetacide​ and @scribbles97​ for the read throughs, plot help and support. This was a bloody hard one to write. It started with Virgil, but Scott ate me alive. 2848 words, fic total 18,111 words.

I hope you enjoy whatever the result was.

-o-o-o-

“Son, sit down.” He waved him to a chair across from him.

A sigh. So, interview it was.

He loved his father. Would go to the ends of the solar system and beyond for him, but some things never changed. Jeff Tracy was a determined man.

At least Scott knew where he got it from.

He killed the coffee machine and made his way back to the table, this time taking up a seat that set his back to the shadow of Mateo.

Grey eyes latched onto him.

“I’m proud of you son.”

Blink.

His father reached over and took his hand.

Scott’s eyes widened. Dad had never been one for a great deal of physical contact, but that had changed since he came back. Scott stared at the scarred fingers holding his.

“Son, I…” His father swallowed. “I need to know your brother is okay.”

Scott frowned. “Virgil is okay, Dad. I promise.” It was what he had been saying all along.

A drawn out sigh. “I need to know if being part of International Rescue is in Virgil’s best interest.”

Eyes widening, Scott pulled back, his hand slipping from his father’s as his back straightened. “Dad, no.”

A held-up hand. “Hear me out.”

“Dad, this happened a long time ago. International Rescue is our lives, Virgil’s life. You can’t take it away from him.” A pause. “I won’t let you.”

Those old grey eyes latched on to him and his father’s lips thinned. “Is he on medication?”

“Dad, you need to speak to V-“

“Is he on medication?”

“Yes. It is handled and monitored. Virgil is fine, Dad!”

His father made a sorrowful sound that cut Scott to the quick, before burying his face in his hands. “I wish…” It was muffled, but Scott heard it. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. If I had known…” But his voice drifted off and Scott was left staring at his father, his heart sinking more by the minute.

“We made it, Dad. We’re okay.”

His father’s head shot up. “How can you say that? Virgil is suffering from a mental illness exacerbated by his job. Yet you tell me he should keep doing that job despite what it is costing him.”

Voice quiet but firm. “It is his decision, Dad.”

“And what happens if it becomes too much? What if-“

“Dad! It is under control. Virgil is an adult. He knows what he is doing and yes, if something does go wrong, he has all of us. We back each other up. None of us are perfect. We work as a team.”

Grey eyes snapped at him. “What else don’t I know?”

Scott held back a snarl. “What else do you want to know? If you think I’m going to give you the lowdown on all my brother’s personal information, dream on, Dad.”

Those eyes didn’t falter. “Then what about you?”

“What about me? Have I had moments? Of course, I have. You know this job, Dad. It can be hell. And yes, there is a whisky stash in your desk. There always has been.” He returned that piercing glare with one of his own.

“I never claimed to be perfect, son.”

“And neither did we. Virgil’s mental health is his business. He prefers to keep it to himself. I’m aware of it. It is being managed. End of discussion.”

The steel in his father’s eyes did not vanish. “I only want what is best for my children.”

Scott’s lips thinned as he stood up. “We’re not children anymore.”

“I know that, son, but I’m still your parent.”

The tension in Scott’s shoulders only tightened. “Dad-“

“You know, I always remember Scotty being a bit of a clone of you, Dad, but up until now, I’d never really seen how much.”

A blink as Gordon slipped out of the darkness beside the stairs. He had his swimwear on and a towel thrown over his shoulder. His posture was casual, but Scott could see the tension in his shoulders. “Gordon-“

“Hey, Dad, welcome to the whacky world that is International Rescue, your local rescue organisation run by five brothers of questionable sanity. Here be the eldest, a strong, masculine heartbreaker who has an obsession complex that can drive the whole family out of the solar system. His back up and apparently medicated…” He glared at Scott. “…second in command, artist and sensitive type who takes on far too much and suffers for it. Coordinated by our communications guru who is so introverted he can’t go to parties without breaking a sweat. Not to mention our aquanaut who suffers from PSTD because his body was broken six ways to Sunday and yet still managed to survive. And finally, our kid brother who has yet to be traumatised enough to sport a mental illness, but give him time.” A sigh. “Honestly, Dad, what did you expect?”

“Gordon!”

“Scott, c’mon! Face it. It’s a hard job. We do it. Shit happens.”

Their father climbed to his feet. “Are you finished, son?”

Gordon glared at his father. “That depends.” His lips tightened. “Are you seriously considering pulling Virgil from IR?”

Scott flared. “That is not on the table.”

That earned him a brown-eyed glare. “Isn’t it? The fact you are questioning Virgil’s ability to do a job he has excelled at for years…” The glare returned to his father. “I just thought I’d let you know that if you do choose to do that, you can go find yourself another aquanaut. Because Virg goes? I’m going with him.”

“Virgil isn’t going anywhere!” The mere thought of losing any of his brothers… “Gordon, Dad just had some questions-“

“Yeah, questioning if the heart of this outfit was able to do his job.” Gordon rounded on his father again. “If you had seen what Virgil is capable of, you wouldn’t have any questions.”

“Gordon, for god’s sake!”

Their father held up a hand. “It’s fine, Scott. As you said, Gordon has a right to his opinion.” His voice was quiet enough to bring Gordon’s ire to a halt and the sudden gap in conversation let the sounds of the ocean in through the open doors. “But as your father, I have a right to my opinion also. I need information. Scott has been in command for those eight years, so I am asking him for a report.”

“On our brother.”

“On a staff member of International Rescue.” An indrawn breath. “And my son.”

“Then perhaps you should speak to your son.” Those brown eyes flared.

“I intend to.” Those grey eyes turned back to Scott. “However, I was hoping to put him through the least amount of stress by gathering enough information beforehand, in particular what instigated this issue.”

Scott straightened again. “I’m sorry, Dad. That is not my story to tell.”

“Even as Commander of International Rescue?”

Ever so quiet as his eyes held his father’s. “Even then.”

They were all interrupted by the whine of a not-quite-out-of-teenagerhood-despite-being-an-adult at the top of the stairs. “Oh, c’mon, John. I don’t need a warm milk.”

Smooth musical tones. “You had a nightmare, Alan. Warm milk is the best option for a quick return to sleep.”

“Really? Have you got a stash up on Five? Doesn’t that UHT milk taste vile?”

“It’s an acquired taste.”

“Blech!” His little brother caught sight of the three of them. “Wha-? What’s going on?”

Scott just felt sad as Alan and John took the last few steps into the room. But then John’s eyes had that wiser-than-you-know look about them and Scott’s shoulders knotted just that bit more.

Hiding anything from John was futile. And Alan?

John played for keeps.

As if subjected to an antibiotic for anger, Gordon’s stance changed immediately. “Woah, John, you got the squirt up before the sun? How did you manage that without the side effect of death?”

“He had a nightmare.” There was something in his brother’s eyes.

“John! Geez, it was only a bad dream. I’m not a little kid anymore!”

“One that had you screaming.”

“John!”

Scott stepped around the table. “You okay, Allie?”

“Oh, god, John. Now look what you did.”

The elder astronaut had a rather knowing smirk on his face.

Scott glared at him.

He put a hand on Alan’s shoulder anyway and squeezed gently.

His little brother growled at him. “I’m fine. It was time to get up anyway.”

“It’s before noon, Alan.”

“Shut up, Gordon.”

“Hey, I just have your teenage need for sleep at heart.”

“Shut up, Gordon.”

“That’s enough, you two.”

“He started it!”

“Alan.”

“Scccottttt…” It was pure whine and a strong sign that Gordon was probably right. Alan needed more sleep.

“You going to grab some warm milk?”

“Heck, no. That was John’s idea. I was just going to plug in some tunes, but he demanded I come down here. What are you guys doing anyway? Dad?”

Scott shot John with his eyes. This was worth a discussion later.

The smart ass just shrugged and smiled that smile of his.

“Dad?” Alan left Scott and hurried over to the table. “You okay?”

Scott spun to find their father reaching for his cane. Alan was there in a second and handed it to him. His little brother had an arm wrapped around his father and whether his help was wanted or not, he gave it.

“Are you okay, Alan?”

Alan rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, Dad. Johnny is just making a big thing out of nothing.”

As usual, the ‘Johnny’ moniker riled the astronaut. “You were calling Virgil’s name.”

The room froze.

Alan shot daggers at John from under his father’s arm. “Thanks a bunch.”

John tilted his head. “Well, you were.” He held up his hands. “Just trying to help.” But his eyes flickered to Scott.

He glared back. Yeah, right.

John’s small smirk just wound Scott up further.

But he would kill his middle brother later, right now, Alan was the concern. “You want to talk about it?”

“Nooo.”

“Is this about Virgil’s tattoo?” His father’s voice was quiet and a little sad.

“I’m fine, Dad. I’m eighteen. Not a kid anymore.” It wasn’t a ‘no’.

“Age has nothing to do with dreams, son. I have nightmares all the time. Even some about you.”

Alan shrunk back just a little. “Me?”

Their father nodded and Scott’s heart finished its plummet somewhere amongst the flagstones.

“About all of you. Sometimes you’re calling out to me and I can’t answer. Sometimes you’re hurting and I can’t help. Sometimes all of you are just gone.” He looked up at Scott. “In more ways than one. That I’ve lost you. That my one misstep cost us everything. Even now I find it hard to believe that all of you are here safe and sound.” His voice hitched on that last word and Scott knew the truth. Knew that they weren’t as sound as they could be.

“We’re here, Dad. All of us.” Alan was looking up at his father in that same way that eleven-year-old had looked up at Scott all those years ago. Eighteen years or not, his little brother still had faith.

“I know.” He tilted his head and caught Alan up in his arms, burying his face in his youngest’s hair. “It doesn’t stop the dreams, though, kiddo. I’m still scared.”

Scott swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry, Dad.” It was muffled against their father’s shirt.

“Not your fault. I just wanted you to realise that we all have bad dreams from time to time.”

“Heh, I know. Gordon walks and talks in his sleep.”

“Hey! I’m over that!”

Alan poked his head up. “Newsflash, bro. Virg had to lead you back to bed three nights ago. Found you by the pool at two am talking to your ‘coach’.”

“Aw, shit.”

“Language, son.”

Gordon ignored his father. “Why didn’t Virgil tell me?”

Scott was more concerned as to why Virgil hadn’t told him.

“Dunno. You’ll have to ask him.”

Gordon muttered to himself about locks and tying himself to the bed.

Dad looked at Scott. “How long has this been a problem?”

Yet another sigh. “Long term, Dad. Left over from the Olympics. Flares when he’s worried. Hasn’t happened for a while. We have strategies.”

“Are there any other issues I don’t know about?” It was asked of the room at large, but Scott knew it was aimed at him. He pressed his lips together.

“Plenty, but they are all managed and safe.” The familiar baritone echoed down the stairwell and Virgil, trailing Grandma, was the last brother to join them.

His dark eyes ranged over the family gathering, obviously making an assessment and drawing conclusions. “Did I miss a meeting?”

His brother’s arm was strapped up but he was otherwise shirtless. It was obviously a statement because Virgil never went shirtless…ever.

He looked tired and worn.

“Virg, what are you doing up?”

It was Grandma who answered. “He needed his medication and I thought he could do with something in his belly before he goes back to bed.” She stepped past her grandson and headed towards the kitchen.

A quick glance at Gordon and the aquanaut was moving. “Hey, Grandma, let me help you with that…” He followed her into the kitchen proper obviously vetoing any villa-burning-down attempts in the making.

Virgil took the last few steps onto the flagstones and eyeing all of them, made his way towards Scott, suspicion on his face. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Some.”

“Obviously not enough.”

He turned to their father. “Dad, you’re up a little early, too. Anything I can help you with?”

It was a blatant barb. It was obvious Virgil thought he was the topic of discussion and Scott didn’t blame him.

“Just finding my feet again, son.”

Virgil nodded once before turning to Alan who was still holding onto their Dad. “You okay, Allie?”

“He had a bad dream, Virg.” It was shouted from the kitchen.

“Gordon, I’m gonna kick your ass!”

“You and what army, squirt?”

“Gordon!” It was choral – Scott, Virgil, John, Dad and Grandma.

“That army, idiot!”

“Alan!” Same chorus, younger name.

“He started it.”

“He always starts it and you always fall for it.” Scott glared at his little brother. He really was too tired for this. “It’s early. Get yourself some food or drink and back to bed. I’m going for my run.” The early morning pre-dawn glow was now bright enough to see by and not kill himself. God, he needed some time alone.

The expression on his father’s face clearly showed the man wanted to talk further. “Dad, give it time, please?”

His father blinked, but didn’t say anything.

“Trust me.”

He straightened. “I trust you, Scott.”

“Thank you.”

Scott turned to Virgil. “And you, wear your uniform next time. Don’t think I didn’t notice, Thunderbird Two.” He threw a glare at his second for emphasis.

That brought his brother up short. “FAB.”

“And fix whatever caused the accident so it doesn’t happen again.”

“Uh.” Virgil appeared suddenly panicked.

“Virg? What did cause you to fall?”

His brother’s face fell and he slumped with a wince. “A bat startled me.”

“What?”

“Did I just hear that correctly?” Gordon was far too gleeful in the kitchen. “Did you get scared by a bat?!”

“Shut up, Gordon.” It was the chorus again.

The aquanaut might have said something more, but a small explosion on the stove had him yelping and hurrying to wipe milk off the walls.

“It was a bat, okay? It startled me, I stepped back and fell. Can we ignore that now, please?”

“I’ll speak to Brains about finding a bat deterrent to keep them off the ‘birds.” Scott was firm.

Virgil turned to him and there was nothing but gratitude in his eyes.

“And if I hear anyone bugging Virgil about this, they will be cleaning all six of Two’s modules with a toothbrush. Is that clear?”

There was a muttering of assent among his brothers.

Gordon had milk in his hair.

Scott turned to John. “You and I will be having words, Thunderbird Five.”

“What did I do?” The astronaut was innocence itself.

“Strong words, Thunderbird Five.” He glared even more for emphasis.

John shrugged. “FAB.”

Alan. His littlest brother was still holding their father and didn’t appear to be separating from him any time soon. “Allie, you want to talk. Any of us will listen, you know that. Dad included.”

The young astronaut looked at his feet. “I know, Scott. Thank you.”

“We all have bad times. We get through them together.” His eyes drifted up to his father. “We do this together.”

Those strong arms held Alan even tighter and his father gave him a single nod.

Scott took a step back and stared at his family, wishing briefly that Kayo was home and Penny, Parker and Brains were there as well, even if just to complete the picture.

“Grandma, I love you. Gordon, don’t burn the kitchen down.”

And with that, he turned towards the pool, ran out on the deck and into the beginnings of the day.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[hysterialevi]

His Name Was Isaac - A RDR2 Fanfic

Fanfic summary: During a mission to avenge his mother’s death, Isaac hunts down the men responsible for her murder and kills them off one-by-one, only to discover that his last target is taking refuge among the Van der Linde gang. In an attempt to kill them, Isaac attacks the gang and unknowingly becomes enemies with his own father, who is in the process of fighting his own battle for redemption.

Point of view: third-person

Author’s note: Alright guys, here’s the first part of my Isaac fic! I’m not 100% sure if I’ll continue this one so please let me know if you like it. I hope you enjoy :)

Next chapter

This story is also on AO3

AMERICA, 1907

WEST ELIZABETH

Bang.

The man collapsed to the ground.

His body twitched, his face contorted, his chest spurted blood, and within a few heartbeats... he was already gone from this world.

He was dead.

Just like that.

And soon, his friend would follow with him.

Smoking pistol in hand, his assailant cocked their firearm one last time and brought their attention to the final survivor in the room, preparing to take them out.

They crawled helplessly away from their pursuer and attempted to grab the weapon of one of their fallen comrades, only to cry out in agony when the other man pressed a boot on top of their fingers, practically grinding them to dust.

“You ungrateful son-of-a-bitch...!” The victim growled through gritted teeth, his eyes wet with tears from the pain. “I knew I shoulda killed you when Whitley first brought you here...!”

His attacker disregarded the comment and simply continued to twist their heel into his hand, causing a disgusting crack to emit from their joints.

“...You expect me to be grateful?” The other man replied, his tone low and venomous. “You signed your death warrant the minute you killed my mother all them years ago. You pieces of shit ain’t even getting a fraction of what you deserve.”

The injured man remained on the floor, his jaw tightly clenched due to the ongoing pain throbbing throughout his hand.

“We let you live...” he whispered, desperately attempting to bargain with him. “We gave you a place to stay. We kept you fed. Goddammit, Isaac -- we raised you!”

Isaac glowered at the absurd statement and knelt to the ground, making sure he was face-to-face with the other man.

“No,” he corrected. “You used me. You took everything I had and then forced me to give you more. And now...”

He applied even more pressure onto the man’s hand, causing him to start weeping.

“...you’re gonna die for it.”

Knowing there was no way he was going to talk himself out of this one, the man resorted to cowardly insults and intimidation, trying his best to scare Isaac out of going after the rest of the gang, but to no avail.

“If you’re thinkin’ about tracking Whitley down too, you can forget it. He’s already long gone. He ain’t nothin’ but a ghost nowadays.”

“You think?” Isaac said. “Well, I’m not too worried about it. I managed to track you down, didn’t I?”

His victim shook his head in anger. “It’s been ten years since Whitley left our gang, Isaac. Ten. How the hell are you gonna recognize him? You’ll never find him!”

Isaac let out a chuckle and rose from the ground, finally taking his foot off the man’s hand.

“Have no fear.” He reassured, taking aim. “I already have.”

Bang.

~~~~~~~~~~

THREE DAYS LATER

RHODES, EVENING

“Blackjack!” The dealer announced after checking his cards, earning a series of groans from the two players sat around him, along with the spectating crowd. He happily removed their chips from the betting position and retrieved their cards, stacking them proudly amongst his own.

“Alright, everyone, place your bets.” He instructed once everything had been reset.

Not too confident about his luck, the first player decided to adopt a safer strategy and presented a smaller amount of chips than the last round while the second player, Eli Whitley, decided to go higher.

He scooted the chips into the small circle drawn onto the table’s surface, biting his lip in uncertainty.

“Okay, no more bets,” the dealer said, shuffling the cards. “Let’s begin.”

Placing a total of two cards in front of each player, Whitley ended up with a six and a jack while the other received a king and a queen, leaving them in a much more favorable light than Whitley himself.

The dealer addressed Whitley first, throwing a quick glance at his cards.

“We have a sixteen.” He observed.

“Hit me.” Eli said, taking a third card. This one was an eight.

“Bust.”

Whitley sighed in disappointment upon seeing the result, leaning back as the dealer took away his chips before moving on to the next player.

“Twenty.” He noted.

The player held a hand up. “I’ll stand.”

Keeping his cards in hand, the dealer returned to his own pile and began flipping them over one by one, only to end up with a nineteen.

The second player grinned proudly at that. “Well, alright then!”

“...Dammit.” Whitley muttered to himself. Tonight was not his night.

Repeating the cycle as always, the dealer cleaned up the table once again and put everyone’s cards back into the stack while also giving out the appropriate number of chips, only to perk his head up in interest when a third man joined the game.

“Welcome, sir.” The dealer greeted.

“Evening, gentlemen.” He replied casually, settling down two seats over from where Whitley was.

The new player caught Whitley’s attention.

He appeared to be much younger than everyone else at the table, and had a head of wavy, blond hair as well as a thick layer of scruff outlining his jaw. He carried the look of someone who was no stranger to traveling around the country and also kept a beautiful revolver on his waist, allowing it to hang just beside the rim of his rugged duster coat.

Though, what really intrigued Whitley was the man’s eyes. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something strangely familiar about them. Like... he had seen this man before. No names were coming to Whitley’s mind at the moment, and he was fairly certain he had never ran into this young man in the past, but everything about him just screamed, “you know me.”

Well, Whitley supposed it wouldn’t hurt to ask and turned to face the new player, curious to learn who he truly was.

“Hey there, partner.” He said, leaning forward. “Have we met before? You seem... familiar.”

The player simply carried on with the game, clearly not sharing Whitley’s sense of recognition.

“I don’t think so, mister. I’m usually pretty good at remember peoples’ faces, but...yours don’t ring any bells.”

Still, Eli was determined. “What about my name? You know anyone called Eli Whitley?”

The young man’s expression paused for a moment upon hearing his name -- as if he suddenly remembered who Whitley was -- but then returned to its natural state as he placed a small stack of chips in the betting ring.

“I’m afraid not. Sorry, mister.”

Whitley furrowed his brow in disappointment and confusion.

“Hmm... strange. Perhaps I’m mistakin’ you for someone else.”

The young man smiled in a friendly manner. “No worries. I guess I just have one of those faces.”

Letting their conversation drop there, Whitley fell back into silence as the dealer continued on with the game and began making his way around the table, starting with the new player.

“I see a twelve.” He examined.

“Hit me.”

The dealer placed another card down. “Eighteen.”

The young man held a hand up, signaling a stand. He moved on to Whitley.

“Fourteen.” He announced. Eli decided to take a risk and placed another stack of chips in the ring.

“I’ll double down.”

The dealer gave him an extra card, presenting a jack. “Bust.”

“Damn...!” Whitley cursed under his breath, shaking his head as his chips were whisked away. He could hear a few scattered moans of discouragement coming from the crowd.

“Welp...” He said with a lighthearted shrug, “I never did have much luck with gambling.”

The young man laughed softly at that and slid his cards back to the dealer.

“No, you didn’t.”

Whitley froze at the comment.

Wait, what?

What the hell was going on with this guy? Didn’t he just say that he had no idea who Whitley was? And now he was talking as if he knew him? Perhaps there was some sort of misunderstanding in their little exchange that Whitley failed to catch.

Eli jolted his head in the young man’s direction, admittedly somewhat perplexed by what was happening.

“Hang on a minute, I thought you didn’t--”

Just before he could finish speaking however, a fourth player decided to jump into the game and occupied the seat between Whitley and the blond haired man, blocking his line of sight. Eli tilted his body so that he could see around the newcomer and leaned back a tad, only to find himself staring at nothing more than an empty chair.

“What in the world...?” He murmured.

Whitley was beside himself with bewilderment.

Where did the man go? Who was he? How did he disappear so fast? Was he even real? Or did Eli just have one too many drinks tonight?

Well, whatever was going on, Whitley started to suspect that Blackjack wasn’t the only game being played. Clearly, the young man knew significantly more than he let on, and Eli was beginning to suspect that his true intentions were far from innocent.

Deciding to call it a day, Whitley returned his cards to the dealer and stood up from the table, fully determined to find that young man now. He had about a thousand questions swimming through his head at the moment, and by God was he going to get some answers.

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

SOMEWHERE OUTSIDE RHODES, MIDNIGHT

Squeak.

Squeak.

Squeak.

That was all Whitley could hear as his lantern swayed back and forth with his horse’s movement, causing his shadow to warp into all sorts of ominous shapes on the dirt road beneath him.

At the moment, Eli was trying to locate the young man in the fields just outside of Rhodes, but the nightfall in this area was brutal. Even with a flame to help guide the way, the darkness still managed to swallow the light of his lantern whole, and it also nearly enveloped his vision completely.

There was nothing around him except for endless fields of grass shrouded by utter blackness, and in the distance, Whitley could’ve sworn he saw an abandoned barn standing behind a misty layer of fog.

“...Jesus Christ...” He muttered, admittedly feeling on edge.

What was he doing out here? Was it even worth it to find this boy? For all Whitley knew, that young man could’ve been absolutely no one special, and he could’ve just been wasting his time out here like a complete moron, searching an answer that didn’t exist.

But no... it wasn’t that simple. It couldn’t be. It was clear that the man knew who Eli was. He knew his face. He knew his name. And somehow, he knew Eli would be in Rhodes tonight.

Whitley just had no idea how.

Pushing further into the night, Eli decided to make a beeline straight for the barn and lightly whipped the reins on his horse, urging it to go into a steady trot.

Despite all the fog surrounding the eerie structure, Whitley managed to spot the soft orange glow of another lantern sitting outside the barn’s doors, indicating that someone else might’ve been there, too.

Even if it wasn’t the young man, Whitley still felt a wave of relief rush over him nonetheless. There was no denying that these empty fields made him uneasy, and with the odd encounter he had at the Blackjack table earlier, he wanted nothing more than to return to his room until the world realigned itself.

Cautiously approaching the barn, Eli squinted through the darkness and held his lantern up a bit, hoping to catch a glimpse of what lay ahead.

Not too far away from him, it looked like there was another horse hitched by the barn’s entrance, and -- if Eli’s eyes weren’t deceiving him -- a person sitting on top of it as well. Their back was turned to Whitley at the moment, but there was no one else accompanying the stranger as far as he could tell, so he assumed it would be safe to introduce himself. Perhaps they were another lost soul, hopelessly trying to find their way around these winding meadows.

“Um, excuse me, sir?” Whitley called out, getting off his mount. “Or ma’am...?”

He walked over to the other horse, curious to see who this stranger was.

“I apologize for intruding, but I was wonderin’ if you could help me find my way back to town. It’s a hell of a lot darker out here than I first anticipated, and I seemed to have gotten myself turned around. Would you be so kind as to--”

Finally standing next to his new friend, it didn’t take long for Whitley to notice that the stranger was no person at all, and in fact, a simple scarecrow that had been placed on top of the saddle.

“What in the hell...?” Eli whispered in a baffled voice, observing the decoy.

That was when someone suddenly shot him from behind, planting a bullet in his leg.

“Shit!” He hissed, falling to the ground as smoke rose from his shattered kneecap and the horses whinnied in fear.

Tightly clutching his leg, Whitley heard the distant sound of someone cocking their gun, followed by a chain of footsteps emerging from the shadows that eventually led to his side.

“No wonder you have such bad luck with gambling,” a familiar voice remarked. “You’re far too predictable, Whitley.”

Holding onto his wounded knee as he writhed on the ground like a worm on a hook, Eli gazed upwards at his assailant and saw the same man from before, only with a completely different temperament this time.

As opposed to the casual, laid-back demeanor he carried during the game of Blackjack, he now lacked any empathy in his expression, and didn’t seem to hold even a shred of remorse in his conscience. His blue eyes were narrow with a sense of hatred, and the angled light coming from Eli’s fallen lantern cast a number of shadows across the man’s face that only seemed to sharpen his glare.

Whitley let out a series of rapid, shaky breaths, attempting to speak through the pain.

“W-Who the hell... are you?” He groaned out. “Why are you doin’ this...?!”

The young man kept his pistol aimed at Eli and slapped his horse with the other, scaring it off as a way to ensure Whitley had no means to escape.

“I’m surprised you don’t remember.” He answered vaguely. “I know it’s been over ten years, but seein’ as how you was drowning your sorrows in the parlor house back there, I figured you hadn’t forgotten.”

Eli sighed in frustration, his voice becoming more ragged due to anger. “Enough games, sir! Just gimme your name so I can know what the hell is goin’ on! Haven’t you played with me enough?”

“Not really,” the young man disagreed, “but I ain’t got any more time to waste on you. So consider yourself lucky. For once.”

Circling around Whitley like a vulture observing its meal, the young man finally decided to come clean and crouched next to Eli’s face, making sure his revolver was ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

“Fifteen years ago or so... you and your ‘associates’ may have robbed a small cabin...? Killed the owner in the process, too. A young woman, barely into her twenties. Her name was Eliza, and she had a son as well.”

He paused, holding up a finger. “Oh, but you didn’t kill her son. Instead, you took him in. Forced him to work for your gang, and then dug another grave by his mother’s to ensure his daddy wouldn’t come after him.”

The man aggressively pressed the barrel of his pistol against Whitley’s temple, nearly digging it through his skull as he growled his next words.

“Any of this ringin’ a bell now?”

Suddenly realizing just who this man was, Whitley’s eyes sprung wide open in remembrance as he gaped at his captor with a horrified look, finally understanding what all of this was about.

“...I-Isaac Morgan?” He breathed out in disbelief. “Is that you? My God... y-you was just a little boy the last time I saw you.”

Isaac nodded as confirmation, appearing satisfied with the answer. “If I recall correctly, you left your gang members behind ‘cause you couldn’t... ‘deal with the guilt anymore.”

Whitley closed his eyes in shame, unwilling to relive the tragic memory.

“...It was one of our first jobs, Isaac. We never meant to kill Eliza. We only wanted her money. But people just panicked, things got escalated, and -- for God’s sake -- it was an accident! Okay? The trigger went off and we couldn’t just undo it!”

Isaac shrugged at Eli’s confession, evidently not taking a word of it in. “I don’t care. Your ‘accident’ cost me my family, my home, and my childhood. And there ain’t no way in hell you can give any of that back, so I’ll just settle for takin’ your life. But before I do...”

He took a handful of Whitley’s collar, yanking the man’s face closer to his own. “...Tell me where Mackintosh is.”

Eli furrowed his brows at that. “Shay Mackintosh? How on earth would I know?”

“You and Mackintosh were practically brothers before you left the gang. You must know something!”

Whitley raised his hands in a diplomatic manner. “Look, I haven’t spoken to Mackintosh in years! I have no idea where he could be!”

Isaac pulled the hammer on his pistol down, afterwards pointing it at Eli’s other knee. “Well, you better give me something.”

“Wait!” The other man exclaimed, starting to panic. “Just wait! I’ve... I’ve heard rumors of him runnin’ around with the Van der Linde gang recently. Apparently, he’s one of them now.”

Morgan wasn’t quite finished with interrogating him yet. “The Van der Linde gang? Who are they? Where can I find them?”

“I don’t know,” Whitley answered truthfully. “I’ve never met them before. All I know is if you wanna find them, you gotta find Dutch van der Linde first. He’s their leader. He’s the one in charge.”

“...Dutch van der Linde...” Isaac repeated to himself, taking a mental note of the name. “Alright, then. I’ll go find him. And Mackintosh, too. Seems you ain’t completely useless, after all.”

“But what about Baumann and Blackmore?” Eli questioned, confused as to why Isaac stopped his interrogation there. “Aren’t you gonna look for them as well?”

Isaac stood up from the dirt path and patted any dust off his coat, averting his aim back to Whitley’s head.

“No need. They’re already dead.”

[honeyhan-123]

The Artist ~ III

Summary: When Steve meets the reader at an art class he immediately becomes enticed and maybe, just maybe, she can help heal his wounded heart.

Warnings: none (smut in later chapters)

Word Count: 2.6k

AN: I am so sorry it took my a while to come out with the next part of the series but I hope y’all like it. Also Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays to everyone! 

As always a massive thank you to the beautiful @imanuglywombat​ who designed the amazing moodboard. 

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Part One ~ Part Two

Steve had woken up the next morning in a funk. It had started the night before when he had awkwardly walked back to the tower with Bucky. He wanted so badly to say something, to say anything to the other man but everytime he tried, he was just reminded of that night and his heart shuddered in his chest. He had thought they were finally in a good place again but it still hurt. He knew he was being selfish but he couldn’t help it. He had waited so long to finally get Bucky back and to have him so close but not in the way he wanted was torture for Steve.

It was as though the entire tower could feel Steve’s sour mood as hardly anyone bothered him throughout the day. He had spent most of it in the gym, either destroying yet another punching bag or sparing with his teammates as they drifted in and out of the room. The hours that he didn’t spend in the gym were occupied by a small amount of paperwork and mission planning. 

They had recently caught wind of some illegal arm dealing off the coast of Portugal and while it would have normally been left to the authorities, they had reason to suspect they were dealing with alien tech so the team had been brought in. There wasn’t much information circling about it so Steve knew he still had a couple weeks to plan but it still made him slightly ansty being so unprepared.

The hours passed slowly but finally it was six o’clock and Steve felt no guilt as he packed up for the day. There was a slight spring in his step as he left Avengers tower with his sketchbook tucked under his arm and his sour mood from earlier was almost completely forgotten. His legs jiggled as he took the J train out to Brooklyn, equal parts nerves and excitement ransacked their way through his veins. 

To help pass the time as the train rushed through underground tunnels Steve watched those around him. Not like he would on a mission trying to figure out whether or not they were actually civilians but as he imagined an artist would watch them. He tried to figure out how he would draw each and every and every passersby. He tried to memorise the way the old lady’s smile lines deepened as she spoke to who Steve assumed to be her grandson, or the way the little boy looked up to her with complete adoration in his eyes. 

He felt so much more at ease than he had all day as he stepped off the train and began the short walk towards the studio, his mind never once drifting to his brunet best friend. Despite the darkening sky the streets were packed as people bustled around and Steve had to squeeze his way through the throng of people. He smiled as he passed a group of carolers despite it only being late November. The familiar tune of ‘Good King Wenceslas’ floated through his ears and he stooped to donate a hefty sum in their collection tin, earning him a round of ‘thank yous’.  

The studio was only a block away so when he finally dashed up the steps, he could still hear the melodic voices of the group. As he pulled the door open, a warm gush of air washed over him and he couldn’t wait to get inside but he heard someone call out to him that made him pause. 

‘Hey! Hold the door please!’ He turned as you came bustling up the stairs, your face barely visible behind the large canvass you carried. Steve stood back and ushered you in ahead of him and you gave him a small ‘thanks!’ 

Already starting to feel a little too warm in your multiple layers, you set down the canvass just inside the entryway and shrugged out of your heavy winter jacket. ‘It’s bloody cold out there isn’t it? I reckon we’ll get some snow for sure this year.’ Steve nodded his head somewhat absentmindedly, trying to tear his eyes away from you. 

‘I - uh - yeah, I hope so. It used to snow heaps in the city when I was growing up but it’s been a while since we’ve had a proper winter.’ 

‘Oooh that must have been so nice! I’ve always wanted a white Christmas like in all those Hallmark movies but I grew up in Australia so that was never going to happen.’ 

‘You’re from Australia?’ The slight twang of your accent had been one of the first things Steve had noticed about you, but he thought maybe the average person wouldn’t have been able to tell. It definitely sounded like you had been in New York for a while. 

‘Yeah, Melbourne actually. I moved here after university. I have no idea why though. Probably some preconceived notion that to be an artist, you have to struggle in New York for a bit first.’ You laughed as you mocked yourself and Steve smiled, knowing exactly what you meant. ‘What about you? Are you originally from the Big Apple or are you a newbie like me?’ Your eyes locked with his as you asked and Steve felt his smile deepen. 

‘I was born and raised here in Brooklyn actually.’

‘Right of course, you literally said you grew up in the city earlier. Sorry about that.’ Steve shrugged away your apology telling you not to worry about it. The door was pulled open and you tried to move out of the way as a gust of cold air drifted inside following another class member who you smiled in greeting at.

‘We should probably head in, it’s nearly seven.’ Steve said as he checked his watch. ‘Do you need a hand with that?’ He gestured towards the large canvas leaning against the wall.

‘Oh yeah. If you wouldn’t mind? It’s just a bit awkward to carry by myself.’

‘Not at all.’ He easily lifted it into his arms and followed as you led the way down the hallway and into the studio. He had no choice but to follow as you headed towards one of the easels towards the front of the room, where you had sat last week. Even though he didn’t want to be noticed by the rest of the class, Steve couldn’t resist the temptation of sitting down in the empty stool next to yours. 

He watched as you pulled out your oil paint and started setting them on a very used palette and Steve was reminded of last night. He wasn’t sure if he should bring it up, as you hadn’t mentioned yet, but he thought maybe you just hadn’t seen him. After all he and Bucky had been towards the back. 

‘I uh, I saw you last night. At Ronan’s bar for the wine and art night.’ He clarified, determined not to seem creepy. ‘I was going to say hi but you seemed a little busy.’

‘Oh, really? I’m so sorry I didn’t even notice you were there! But how good is it!? $25 for unlimited wine plus some art fun. It’s just a shame they only run it during winter.’ You looked slightly remorseful and Steve couldn’t help but agree.

‘I didn’t realise that. I just found the flier over the weekend and decided to give it a try.’ 

‘Well I’m glad you did. If you don’t mind me asking, why the sudden interest in art?’

‘Oh, well I don’t know really. One of my friends, Nat, found my sketchbook that’s basically been abandoned the last few years and wouldn’t stop nagging me to get back into it. She and Tony are always pushing me to have a life beyond work.’

‘Tony as in Tony Stark?’

It only crossed Steve’s mind as he nodded that perhaps not all of Tony’s employees were on a first name basis with him. He needed to be more careful with the words that came out of his mouth. Eager to shift the conversation away from Tony he quickly divulged even more personal information. ‘I uh, I think it might have something to do with my friend, the one I told you about last time.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah, growing up he was practically always my muse and we’ve only recently found each other again - he had to go away for a while. Maybe it’s because he’s back again that I’ve found the inspiration…’ He drifted off, unsure of what he was saying. ‘That probably didn’t make any sense.’

‘No, no, it did. I totally get what you mean. I used to have this dog, his name was Bear and growing up I used to draw him all the time. But when he passed away, I just didn’t feel that spark anymore, you know? It took me a while to find it again but when I did everything just made sense again.’ 

Steve was refrained from replying by the entrance of Madame Maxine to the studio as she quickly called the class to order. 

‘Today we have the wonderful Jerry modelling again. Since it is his second week, he will be modelling nude for us today.’ Her attention drifted back to Jerry who was wearing a dark red silken robe. ‘If you could please derobe Jerry and get settled into position B that would be brilliant.’ Jerry nodded and followed her instructions, setting himself down on the stool in front of the class. Steve had to admire his confidence. He knew that even if it was purely for art he could never model nude for anyone, he struggled enough doing promotional shots when he was fully clothed. 

Steve was too aware of you sitting next to him for the next hour. Everytime you shifted on your stool or bent to mix some more paints he noticed and his eyes followed your movements. As a result his own sketch was barely half complete by the time the hour was up and the small bell rang. He would definitely be voting to keep the position. 

Your painting on the other hand was beautiful. Despite the limited time you had not only managed to capture Jerry as he was, but also his essence. Steve was enraptured and stammered his way through a maze of compliments which you humbly shrugged away. 

‘I just have experience with Jerry, he modelled last winter and he works here part time too.’ 

‘He works here?’

‘Yeah Maxine rents out the studios to aspiring artists if they need a large space. I had this massive project over the summer on three canvases that were each four by five meters and my apartment is a shoebox so it never would have worked if it weren’t for Maxine.’

‘Wow, that sounds impressive.’ Steve could hardly imagine working on as big a canvass as you were currently using, never mind one nearly three times the size. ‘How long did it take you to finish?’

You glanced down, slightly avoiding his eyes. ‘It’s not… well it's not technically finished yet. I’m so close to being done with it but I just…’ You trailed off, unsure how to put it into words. 

‘There’s something missing?’ Steve filled in for you and you nodded eagerly.

‘It’s almost right but everytime I think it’s done I realise just how much I hate it and I have to leave the room to stop myself from painting over it again.’ Although Steve had never done something quite on the same wavelength he could relate to the need for perfection. He had lost count of how many pages he had ripped out of his sketchbook and thrown in the trash only to start all over again. 

‘What’s it of?’

‘It’s a collection, mainly of my favourite places in New York and it’s all about the human footprint… or at least, it’s meant to be.’ 

‘If it’s anything like your painting of Jerry I’m sure it’ll be incredible.’ 

Steve didn’t have to be able to see it to know that your cheeks would be flushing with heat at his compliment. He didn’t understand why you doubted yourself so much, it was clear that you were incredibly talented. ‘Thank you, you’re far too sweet.’ 

Maxine clapped her hands once again calling the attention of everyone. ‘It is now that time where we decide if we would like Jerry to stay as he is or if we would like him in a new position. Raise your hands for the same pose.’ Steve eagerly raised his hand along with you and most of the class.

After a quick headcount Maxine nodded firmly. ‘Well that settles it, Jerry, if you would be so kind as to return to position B.’ Once again the silk robe fell to the floor as Jerry repositioned himself on the stool and Steve promised that he wouldn’t let himself get as distracted by you this time around. 

+

By the end of the second hour Steve had a half decent looking sketch that paled in comparison to yours but he had long since resigned himself to its fate. 

‘Your painting is amazing.’ He told you truthfully and you smiled up at him abashed. 

‘Thank you Steve. That really means a lot.’

‘Well, it’s definitely true.’ Once again, Steve’s heart constricted in his chest as you flashed a sweet, bashful smile his way. He really felt a little ridiculous, being so completely enticed by someone he had only just met but being with you, it just all felt different. 

He watched as you packed up your paints and helped you carry the drying canvas over to the corner of the room where Maxine said you could leave it for the night. 

By the time you were by the coat rack you and Steve were the only students left in the studio, everyone else had filed out fairly quickly. Steve shoved his coat on and quickly plucked your own from the hook, holding it out for you. 

He wondered briefly if he was perhaps overstepped but the smile of gratitude you flashed him put him at ease as you daintily slid your arms into the open holes. ‘Thank you.’

‘Anytime.’ He walked with you out of the building and down into the street. 

‘Well, I’m heading this way.’ You pointed in the opposite direction of the train station and Steve felt a brief flash of chagrin. He wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye just yet and he got the feeling that you felt the same. 

‘I’m the other way. But uhh…’ The invitation to coffee at a cafe just down the street was on the tip of his tongue as his phone rang. ACDC’s Back in Black rang through the cool night air, breaking any tension that had been building up. 

You flashed what looked like a remorseful smile and raised a hand in farewell. ‘I’ll let you get that, but will you be at Ronan’s next week?’

‘Yeah, yes. I will.’ Steve hadn’t really thought about returning to the little bar but if that’s where you were going to be, that’s where he would be too. 

‘Great! I’ll uh, see you there.’ You flashed him that sweet and bashful smile once more before turning on your heel and getting lost in the crowds of New York. 

Steve watched you go for longer than he really should have and by the time he finally fished his phone out of his pocket Tony had nearly been sent to voicemail. 

‘Tony, what’s going on?’

+

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[hollowxxclouds]

The Capture of Ryuk

Monday Morning:

A regular day for 15-year-old Ryuk in 1980, in Westville, he was serving at the bakery, Charlotte’s Home Sweets.

“Come on Ryuk! Business is coming low!” Mrs. Charlotte hollered from the front door of the bakery,

“Yes, Mrs. Charlotte!” Ryuk replies as he brushes off the sweat from his forehead. Legend says Mrs. Charlotte has been running the bakery since WW2, and she doesn’t even seem that old. Although her mood has never changed, you see Mrs. Charlotte’s husband was fighting WW2 but died in Hawaii when Mrs. And Mr. Charlotte were on vacation, she managed to escape, but Mr. Charlotte was right on the scene, and Mr. Charlotte died. But Mrs. Charlotte heard something strange in that scene, Mr. Charlotte’s last words were, “Aliens are here..” and aliens were of course make-believe in the WW2 occurred, so no one genuinely believed in aliens.

“Hi, Mr. Buck, what would you like to order?” Ryuk questions, as he has a coffee in one hand cinnamon rolls in another,

“Oh come on Ryuk! You know I love the regular!” Mr. Buck exclaimed as he pointed his smoking pipe to Ryuk. Mr. Buck’s smoking pipe was from his great grandfather.

“You know where this pipe came from?” Mr. Buck asked,

“N-no sir,” Ryuk stammered,

“A day in West Virginia, My great Grandad, was on his carriage with his two white horses, Philly and Emilly, he was having a normal day going to his work when he heeded something very glistening, he deemed it was a bird with a fragment of glass, but a tobacco pipe came falling’ from the sky, he called it the ‘holy pipe’”.

“Wow I didn’t know that, but could that glistening thing be aliens?” Ryuk questioned,

“No son, there is nothing such as aliens.” Mr. Buck frowned, gave him the money, and left the shop. Later that night, Ryuk came home and started arranging dinner, he seized out two eggs and started boiling them. Ryuk thought more profoundly about what could have been the glistening object in the sky, Ryuk smelt some burnt smells and black dust coating the kitchen, he instantly lowered the heat and poured the burnt egg on a plate, and threw himself on the sofa going into a deep sleep.

Tuesday 7:30 am:

“Knock! Knock! Ryuk! Are you there?!” The newspaper yelled. Ryuk heard some mumbling sounds, and then quickly got up and brushed his eye with his quite red fingers, and opened the door,

“Yes?” He squeaked tiredly,

“Newspaper!” The guy said, Ryuk took the newspaper from him, and locked the door with his lavish strength, he opened a window and then launched the newspaper outside.

8:45 am:

Ryuk locked his door and headed outside, to the bakery, to start his very hard-working job. Ryuk lost both his parents at the age of 5 months, he never really knew what happened to them.

“Oh good! Start by cleaning the dishes!” Mrs. Charlotte said in a somewhat polite way,

“Yes, Mam!” Ryuk answered with very little enthusiasm.

5:30 pm:

It was the end of the shift and Ryuk was heading home to go to bed.

“Hey look, it’s the kid who works at the bakery, what a poor idiot!” Easton giggled with his 2 other friends,

“Leave me alone,” Ryuk sighs and said in a very tired way,

“Oh is that so? Do you want some money, so you can have a bed?” Easton assured. Ryuk ignores them and starts heading home-

“Look, the orphan bakery nerd is running home!!!” Easton and his other mates laughed quite hard. That’s when Ryuk lost his mind took out his right arm and punched Easton in the right eye,

“Oww!! Fight that loser!” Easton said looking like he declared war, one of Easton’s friends tried to kick him but Ryuk grasped his leg and slammed him on the terrain. His other friend started to sneak behind him and strangled him. Ryuk was trying to get his muscular hands off his throat, and that’s when Easton spotted a rock and thrust it as hard as he could on Ryuk’s face, Ryuk went all black.

Wednesday 9:45 am:

“Honey, are you ok?!” A lady asked,

“Oh yeah, I am ok,” Ryuk guesses, as he sees dark blood on the ground and then touches his face,

“Honey, I think you should be at the hospital!” The lady said with fright,

“No, I am okay,” Ryuk smiles and runs to the bakery. As he was running one thing on his mind was, ‘are aliens real?’

“Oh my!! What happened?!?” Mrs. Charlotte asked, hoping for a long answer,

“I fell, there is nothing to worry about,” Ryuk said with a fake smile,

“Come to the kitchen!” Mrs. Charlotte demanded,

“I am serious, nothing happened!” Ryuk said with determination,

“Did those three hooligans beat you up again?” Mrs. Charlotte questions, as she gets the medkit out,

“Yeah,” Ryuk mumbles, Easton’s father was the richest in the town, he owned all the bakeries, Easton also went to school but Ryuk didn’t because he couldn’t afford it,

“I will tell you what, you can take some rest for this shift, and I will give you some money to go get some ice cream,” Mrs. Charlotte smiles, and puts the bandage beneath his left eye,

“Are you sure?” Ryuk asked, Mrs. Charlotte, nodded.

10:10 am:

Ryuk was at the library licking his ice cream and started playing alien games. There was a spaceship, and it would suck up many people from the beach. The game was indeed dull, to be truthful, but Ryuk was so interested that he never got bored, he played it on for hours and hours until it was lunch. Ryuk yawned and stretched his arms and legs and went to eat lunch. He loved eating lunch at McDonald’s, the cheapest restaurant in town but had the best tasting food.

Moments later:

“McDonald’s! What would you like to order Ryuk?” Mrs. Tucker asked, with a very pleasant smile as if she got a promotion,

“The Big Mac, thank you!” Ryuk said with the least excitement,

“That will be $3.15!” Mrs. Tucker said, Ryuk looked at his money and he had three dollars and twenty cents left, he gave 3 one-dollar bills, and 3 nickels. Mrs. Tucker’s regular consumer was Ryuk. Ryuk munched the big mac as if he was the hungriest person on Earth, he thought in his head are aliens even present? Would aliens take over the world? Is Mr. Buck’s smoking pipe from the aliens? And what does Mr. Charlotte’s last word supposed to even mean? All these thoughts were circling Ryuk’s head.

“Hey, Ryuk, are you ok?” Mrs. Tucker asserts,

“Yeah kind of,” Ryuk confirms,

“You look like you are in deep thought,” Mrs. Tucker said with concern, Ryuk takes a deep breath,

“I know you might think this is a stupid question but are aliens real?” Ryuk replies, with very limited expectation, for Mrs. Tucker to not say he’s stupid,

“My big brother was a Xenoarchaeologist, in Hawaii, while he was doing an experiment he passed away,” Mrs. Tucker cries,

“I am so sorry,” Ryuk stated,

“Before my brother’s death, he gave me this artifact which has a different language written on it and he said to return it to them,” Mrs. Tucker said with misery,

“It must mean that it’s from the aliens, right?” Ryuk asked,

“Yes, at least I think so,” Mrs. Tucker,

“I need to go, Mrs. Tucker, bye!” Ryuk conveys,

“Bye!” Mrs. Tucker responds with her half crying voice.

Thursday 9:00 am:

Ryuk was walking down the road until he saw multiple posters that say, ‘Your chance to go to Hawaii, state why you want to and can be the winner on August 5th in city hall at 2:45 pm’. This was Ryuk’s only chance to know what Mr. Charlotte’s last words meant.

Two months later:

It was Wednesday, 2:00 pm, Ryuk got in his best clothes, ate some bacon and eggs, and entered outside, but that’s when he ran into someone,

“Look who it is! The nerd of baking, I heard he is studying about aliens,” Easton giggles, and then the 3 of them start to laugh,

“I am studying about aliens, and they are just a different type of species,” Ryuk whispers putting his head,

“Oh is that right! This loser thinks aliens are real,” Easton blabbers,

“It is, you see I was playing this game in the library-” Ryuk said,

“I don’t CARE! Look, just stay out of my way, I am going to Hawaii and you are going to be a poor loser working in that bakery!” Easton yells,

“You have all that money and you can’t go to Hawaii?” Ryuk questions,

“Look, my dad thinks I have to earn money myself, and then spend it to go to Hawaii,” Easton said in a way that sounds like his dad is a villain. Ryuk nods and just heads to the city hall, but the city hall was very far away, about 30 mins, and Ryuk couldn’t walk 10 miles, he already wasted a good amount of time talking to Easton, he had to take the cab.

“Ryuk!! Are you going to the city hall?” A man said from a far distance approaches Ryuk with a taxi,

“MR. BUCK!! You saved my life, I was wondering how I would get to the city center, Thank you so much!” Ryuk answers with a large smile,

“No problem, always happy to help!” Mr. Buck replies. Ryuk opens the yellow smooth taxi door and gets in the cab, the seats were a printed design of circles and triangles.

2:40 pm:

Ryuk and Mr. Buck get out of the car and enter the City hall, there were rows of seats filled withs crowds of people, the soothing opera music made people dance around the massive building. Mr. Buck and Ryuk got the front row seats, everyone there looked like they wanted to go to Hawaii.

“Hello everyone! I am Atticus Wilson, which all of you probably know, and today we’re going to have participants give reasonable answers on why they want to go to Hawaii!” As Mr. Wilson states, the whole crowd cheers. Many participants go by until it was Easton’s turn,

“Easton!” Mr. Wilson yells,

“Coming Dad!” Easton replies,

“Okay,” Mr. Wilon responds, Easton sprints to the stairs and goes to the middle of the stage,

“I want to go to Hawaii because I want to enjoy life!” Easton assures.

“Next participant, Ryuk!” Mr. Wilson hollers,

“Oh LOOK it’s the loser!” Easton said as he runs down the stairs, Ryuk goes to the middle of the stage,

“I want to go to Hawaii, because of my love and interest in aliens, either mythical or true living species. I want to go and discover it by myself. I also want to know what Mr. Charlotte meant when saying his last words!” Ryuk said with a proud smile. The crowd starts clapping.

“Okay, that’s enough! The winner of-” Mr. Wilson doesn’t complete the sentence, but Easton runs to the stairs, knowing he would win,

“What the heck are you doing?!” Mr. Wilson said with a concerned face,

“Oh, I was just coming up here because I won!” Easton said proudly. The whole crowd seemed blank. Mr. Wilson quickly ignores,

“Sorry about that, the winner of this competition is Ryuk! Please come to the stage,” Mr. Wilson said with a smile. The crowd starts applauding,

“What?! THE LOSER BAKING NERD WON?!” Easton screams,

“Easton! YOU DO NOT call people that?!” Mr. Wilson yells back. Ryuk runs to the stage and goes to the middle.

“I loved your reason! Which is why I chose you as the winner!” Mr. Wilson said,

“But WHY?!” Easton hollers,

“Let me tell you why, when I was your age I also worked at the bakery, I did not have a rich dad,” Mr. Eastons said, the crowd gasps and so does Easton and Ryuk,

“So you were also a loser like Ryuk?!” Easton asked,

“No, and Ryuk is not a loser, I loved mythical creatures especially the Loch Ness Monster! And the mayor at my time had a contest to go to Scotland, I won and I went to Scotland to research the Loch Ness monster, and I saw this passion inside of Ryuk so that’s why I chose him!” Mr. WIlson confirms. Mr. Wilson gives the ticket to Ryuk,

“Thank you so much!” Ryuk said respectfully, Mr. Wilson smiles and nods.

4:00 pm:

“Well Ryuk, when is the flight?” Mrs. Charlotte asked,

“Its next week Monday,” Ryuk said with panic,

“I will tell you what you can have this whole week, off you’ve never been on an airplane, so get mentally prepared and do go pack your luggage,” Mrs. Charlotte smiles and pats Ryuk’s back,

“Thank you!” Ryuk said happily and walked away. As Ryuk was walking down the road he bumped into someone-

“Oh, I am so sorry!” Ryuk said with dismay

“Oh it's alright, wait you’re the winner from the City Hall today,” The girl who is 1 inch shorter than Ryuk and has freckles,

“Uhh yeah, who are you though?” Ryuk questions,

“I am Crystal! Nice to meet you!! You know there are two seats, so I was wondering if I could come?” Crystal said with cute dog eyes, her eyes were blue and her hair was golden,

“Wait, yeah um it does say two seats, so we just met, um,” Ryuk tries to deny but doesn’t know what’s the right choice,

“Oh yeah, I know we just met but come on!!!!! Please???” Crystal tries very hard to convince Ryuk,

“The flights on Monday, 6:45 am, sharp!” Ryuk with serious,

“Ok, I will come to pick you up with a cab, at 5:30 am,” Crystal said,

“Ok I will be ready by then, and my streets in Coronado drive 1142, my name is Ryuk,” Ryuk said with a happy smile,

“Bye! See you on Monday!” Crystal said with a superb amount of enthusiasm,

“Yup!” Ryuk replies.

Monday 5:20 am:

Ryuk got up from his bed, brushed his teeth, he was very sleepy, his eyelids were almost pouring like a liquid to his face, but that’s when he remembered what cartoons do when they are sleepy; he went to his kitchen, and opened one of the cabinets, he took out the toothpicks, and placed from his eyelid, to beneath his eye. His eye still had a scar when Easton threw the rock, but his pain was gone. Ryuk yawned, and poured some milk in his red transparent glass, he drank the milk as if it was his last meal, he took a banana and started munching on that too.

“Knock! Knock! Knock!” Ryuk ran to the door and opened it,

“Hi! The cab came a little earlier than planned,” Crystal said, with very little excitement,

“Oh ok! I am going to get the suitcase,” Ryuk said,

“Ok!” Crystal replies. Ryuk goes straight into a dark hallway and returns with a pleasant smile and a suitcase in his hand. Ryuk takes the red and ripped suitcase and places it in the trunk of the cab.

“All set!” Crystal announces,

“Yup!” Ryuk said as he was locking the door. He slides in the car, and closes the door,

“I am 13, and I am studying about alien stuff,” Crystal said,

“Oh, aliens are cool, but I am going to Hawaii, so I can solve a mystery,” Ryuk replies. Crystal nods and they both get comfortable to lay back.

6:00 am:

Crystal and Ryuk reach the airport, it was the biggest thing Ryuk had ever seen in his life,

“This is humongous, we’re gonna get lost in it,” Ryuk said with fright,

“Don’t worry silly, we won’t get lost, just look at the gate number,” Crystal remarks,

“27A,” Ryuk said with confusion,

“Oh ok! That means it must be this way,” Crystal points as she states. After following Crystal for a few moments, they ran into an elevator,

“We’re gonna need to use this,” Crystal said with excitement. They both go inside and Crystal presses a button, they go up, and they see a very large line, Crystal, walks straight into that line, and Ryuk follows her behind.

“Wait, why are we here?” Ryuk asked,

“Check-in line,” Crystal replies quickly. Crystal looked like she was very rich, all her cosmetics, made her look like her father worked for the president, even her suitcase,

“Ok!” Ryuk, blinks, and then Crystal was gone

“Crystal???!!” Ryuk yells, then a parade of people comes shoving him,

“Watch it, kid!!” A guy roars,

“Sorry,” Ryuk whimpers. And then he saw his luggage gone, he saw a man with a black cap, with his luggage running,

“HEY! Give it back!” Ryuk yells, with all his voice. He sprints, as swift as he can, and slams many people,

“Hey oww!” A woman shrieks,

“What a hooligan!” Another woman hollers. Ryuk saw a bike and hopped onto it. He chases the man for a few moments, until the man trips, and runs away,

“Finally!” Ryuk pants,

“You dummy, where were you?! I hate running you can get in trouble, in the airport realize?!” Crystal said, with terror,

“Sorry! Long story short, some guy stole my suitcase,” Ryuk said,

“I guess at least we’re not late,”

“Why don’t like you like running?” Ryuk asked,

“My mother died by running by running,” Crystal whispered,

“Ok, let’s do the check-in,” Crystal said with disbelief. Crystal approaches the women’s side, and Ryuk to the men’s side.

“Do you have any electronic devices son?” The officer asked with his shades on,

“No,” Ryuk confirms,

“Any jewelry? Liquid? Weapon? Sharp stuff? Or batteries,” The officer pulls, his shades down, and looks at Ryuk’s eye,

“No sir!” Ryuk said with confidence,

“Ok your good son, now I want you to stand like a tree, with your arms stretched,” Officer demands,

“Ok,” Ryuk replies. The officer gets an electronic gadget and touches Ryuk with it all over his body,

“You all good, son, now take your luggage and you can go,” The officer smiles, Ryuk goes straight and takes his luggage, and waits for Crystal.

“Ok so it’s 6:30, just 15 mins, before the flight, so we will go to gate 27A, and board there,” Crystal remarks. Ryuk nods as if he understood everything, which he didn’t.

A few moments later:

“Boarding flight, please come to the boarding station!” The lady on the speaker announced. The whole crowd, including Crystal and Ryuk, rushed and formed a line.

“Next person,” The Karen lady said impatiently,

“Hi! This is our ticket,” Crystal affirms, and hands the ticket to the lady,

“All set you can go!” The lady said Crystal and Ryuk enter a long hallway made out of the grey, rough carpet. Ryuk pulled his red suitcase with max strength because the suitcase was getting stuck on the carpet.

“Hi, this is Hawaiian Airlines Boeing 737, welcome in!” The kind flight attendant said, Crystal nodded and went inside the airplane.

“Who was that?” Ryuk whispers with a frown,

“The flight attendant, the person who cleans and makes the food of the airplane,” Crystal replies back.

“Seat 31C and 30B,” Ryuk announces,

“I will sit in 30B, and you can sit in 31C,” Crystal said. They walk until find 30,

“Ok you are right behind, and you get the window seat,” Crystal said as she lifted her suitcase, and put it on the top compartment, Ryuk did the same thing. Ryuk slides in his seat, and he sees an old woman coming in his direction.

“Hi, honey! Is this sit 31B?” The old lady asked,

“Y-yes, mam!” Ryuk stutters,

“Oh, goodie!” The old lady smiles. The lady gets slides in the middle seat. Then when Ryuk saw something glistening in the sky it might have been the sun, but it was moving.

“This is captain Bill, we will be taking off now, please put on your seat belts,” The radio announces. Ryuk puts his seatbelts on and prays that this will be very safe. The engine starts to rev, and then the airplane goes into its top-tier speed and Ryuk closes his eyes.

A few hours later:

The flight attendant had given his food, and Ryuk started to open it, it was beef tacos, he munched on it as quickly as possible so he fell asleep again, but he had swallowed it too, so he was probably not going to go to sleep again. Once Ryuk wakes up he cannot go back to sleep.

“Honey do you want a cookie, I baked it for my grandson,” The old lady said with kindness, and offers Ryuk a cookie,

“Thank you!” Ryuk said as he took one. He munched on the cookie, it was chocolate and strawberry, two of Ryuk’s favorite flavors. As Ryuk ate them, he thought that this lady must have had a very good experience baking cookies.

“This is awesome,” Ryuk said with astonishment,

“Well back in my day we used to have a lot of bakeries, and I used to work in one, my boss, taught me how to make the best cookies,” The old lady informs,

“Oh! That makes sense!” Ryuk confirms. Ryuk gets comfortable and closes his eyes.

“We have a slight problem, but there is nothing to worry about, stay cautious we might run into turbulence,” The captain remarked. Ryuk was afraid that they would crash or something, but it probably wasn’t going to happen. Ryuk got up from his seat and headed to the restroom. He opened the door and went in. There were no lights in it so he didn’t lock the door.

“We have a bigger problem, there is something in the sky that is visible, we are still trying to figure out what it is!” The captain yelled. Ryuk got out of the bathroom and sprinted to his seat. He puts on his seatbelt and starts to pray. Then he saw something very flashy, it came in quick, and it broke one of the wings of the plane, which exploded. He went black and then he heard the radio on the plane,

“MAYDAY! MAYDAY! BRACE FOR IMPACT!” The captain screamed, Ryuk looked out the window, he saw the plane going super fast into the water.

“Ryuk?!” Crystal screamed,

“Is this heaven?” Ryuk replied,

“NO! You are alive!” Crystal said with concern,

“It’s a miracle?” Ryuk said as he got up. He saw his hand bleeding wildly. Ryuk got up, and he looked at the island, it wasn’t big but it wasn’t small either,

“How are we supposed to get out of here?” Ryuk asked,

“I don’t know, maybe a boat or an airplane will come?” Crystal said with uncertainty.

“We have to survive here somehow, well first I am going to take some rest, I need to take all of this in,” Ryuk said while wiping his forehead. Crystal nods,

“I am going to check out the other side, to see if there are any other survivors,” Crystal declared. Ryuk lays down in the sand and closes his eyes.

A Few hours later:

Ryuk wakes up from the sound of the waves, he sees Crystal stargazing at the sky.

“Are there any survivors?” Ryuk questions,

“No, just us,” Crystal replies,

“What about food, will it last us days?” Ryuk asked with a positive attitude,

“Just 2 days,” Crystal replies,

“We’re kinda doomed,” Ryuk said tiredly. Ryuk goes to a large coconut tree and sees a big leaf on the ground, he takes the leaf and wraps it around his hand, and goes to bed.

Morning:

Ryuk yawns and gets up. He sees Crystal circling the trees in deep thought,

“We need to build a shelter, so we can be protected from the weather, there is a high chance of a storm coming in,” Crystal announced to Ryuk,

“Yeah! You're right, but we also need the materials. We can make the shelter out of bamboo,” Ryuk said,

“Your right I am going to go check if there are any materials that are floating in the ocean,” Crystal informs,

“Oh ok! Then I will look at the materials on the island,” Ryuk declared back. Crystal dives into the ocean and goes at full speed. Ryuk sees a ton of big leaves on the ground, and he got a good idea. He took one of the leaves and put sand in it. He also broke the leaf and a sticky goop came out, he put it in the leaves and wrapped it, this was his idea of a pillow. So he made two of these, for a pillow. Ryuk found big rocks. This can be a good idea to write something on the ground or protect from the weather. As Ryuk was done with it, he waited until Crystal came back.

“I am back, I got some supplies!” Crystal said with excitement,

“Nice!” Ryuk replies,

“I found a hatchet, some wet blankets, lots of pretzels and peanut packs, and lastly, a big shield, well not exactly a big shield, its the door to the airplane,” Crystal said happily

“Well, the hatchet will be very useful!” Ryuk decides,

“We can cut down the coconut tree and use the wood from it,” Crystal suggests,

“Yeah, I was thinking that too,” Ryuk said. Ryuk takes the hatchet and gives all his force at the coconut tree, but it didn’t do a dent,

“The problem is it would take a million tries, by that time it will be dull,” Crystal remarks,

“Your right but we’re gonna have to keep trying until we have successfully done it,” Ryuk said with confidence and keeps swinging,

“I got an idea!!” Crystal face glows up,

“What is it” Ryuk questions,

“Is there any rope,” Crystal asked,

goes fast, doing a lot of damage to the tree

“Yeah!” Ryuk said. Ryuk gave the rope to her, and Crystal tied it between two other trees, she took the hatchet and pulled it with rope like a catapult. The hatchet flew onto the tree, making a lot of marks on the tree. Ryuk and Crystal tried it over and over until they were exhausted,

“This might take us forever, and I am really hungry,” Crystal said with tiredness,

“Me too, we need to find food, I saw a bus with berries earlier, let’s eat the berries,” Ryuk said as he pointed in a direction. Crystal follows Ryuk until they reach a big thorny berry bush.

“Wow, that’s a lot of blueberries!” Crystal jumps in excitement

“Those aren’t blueberries, they are huckleberries,” Ryuk consults. When Ryuk was 8, he used to live with his uncles, until they died from a tragic accident, before that accident he used to go on the boy scouts team. From there he learned all about berries, now he practically could identify any berry in the world.

“I see!” Crystal said as she pulled one from the bush. She tastes it and makes a sour face,

“They are very sour, I guess we have to stick to the food that remains,” Ryuk said hopelessly. Crystal pulls out a bag and sees all kinds of food there. He first started eating the pretzels, they were very salty, he saw the old lady’s cookies and started thinking whether he was the chosen one to live. He saw Crystal devouring the cookies one by one.

“I am full Ryuk!” Ryuk declared,

“Me too,” Crystal replies while rubbing her stomach. They get the hatchet and start cutting the tree again.

“BANG!” The tree falls after numerous amount of tries,

“Finally!!” Ryuk yells and brushes the perspiration off his forehead. Ryuk chops the tree into pieces and uses some of the pieces to make a bed and the other to construct the shelter. He takes the rope, bamboo, and coconut tree pieces and ties them together to make a whole shed.

“Great we made a shed, to protect us from rainy weathers,” Ryuk said proudly,

“Ok now we got a place to sleep tonight, we’re gonna need blankets because it’s gonna start getting cold,” Crystal exclaimed,

“No problem we got these large leaves, we can use this as a blanket,” Ryuk replies,

“Yeah, that’ll work!” Crystal gives a quick response and smiles. It was the evening, Ryuk and Crystal started circling the island.

“There’s a lot of rocks, we can form a word from using these rocks, like ‘HELP’” Ryuk articulates,

“That’s a fantastic idea,” Crystal said with joy. Both of them take huge rocks and form the letters h, e, l, and p.

“Let’s hope someone can see this!” Crystal exclaimed. Ryuk nods and heads on to the food basket,

“There are 6 meals, it will help us for today’s dinner and tomorrow’s lunch and dinner combined,” Crystal declared,

“Oh that means, after that, we need to make our food,” Ryuk said with dismay. Crystal nods and walks away.

“What do you think the time is?” Ryuk questions, Crystal stops midway,

“Probably 7 pm or 6:30 pm,” Crystal said with uncertainty,

“Well then let’s have supper!” Ryuk exclaimed,

“I am not that hungry, you can eat,” Crystal remarked,

“Okay I guess, Ryuk said. He opens the transparent box and sees two cold tacos, he eats them like he never ate in his life. Ryuk finishes quickly and goes to the shelter,

“You sure you don’t want to eat? The food will get col-” Ryuk doesn’t finish his sentence when Crystal interrupts,

“THE FOODS NOT GONNA GET COLD OKAY? Look I JUST CAN’T TAKE ANY OF THIS!!” Crystal screams as she walks away. Ryuk goes to his bunk, lays down, and goes to sleep.

“Ahhh What a beautiful day,” Ryuk says as he stretches his arm and gets up from his hard bed. Sleeping that night was horrible, the bed was so hard Ryuk had a backache in the middle of the night. Ryuk looked beside and saw Crystal’s bed with a huge leaf on it. Crystal probably used that as a blanket.

“Look I am sorry about last night I just couldn’t believe it! Can you please forgive me?” Crystal asked,

“Yeah, sure!” Ryuk said politely when he steps on something smooth but hard, Ryuk looks down and sees a turtle,

“Ahhhh!” Ryuk yells,

“Silly it’s just a turtle!” Crystal laughed,

“Can we keep him?” Ryuk asked,

“Am I your mom? Yeah, we can keep him,” Crystal said with thrill,

“Let’s name him Roca,” Ryuk declared,

“Sure I guess, as long as she’s fine with it,” Crystal says with a pleasant smile. Ryuk can have Crystal play with Roca the whole day.

Another day passed, like nothing, and Roca was gone from his sandpit. Ryuk yawns,

“Where’s Roca?” Ryuk asked with solicitude. Crystal wakes up in an instant,

“Maybe he went for a walk or a swim?” Crystal guessed,

“Probably,” Ryuk remarked. Ryuk stared at Roca’s pit for a minute and went to the side of the island, there wasn’t any way they could brush their teeth, so Ryuk and Crystal used the salty water to rub it against their teeth. You might be also wondering by now, how are they drinking water? They are using the salty one till now.

“We can’t stick with the salty water, it’s toxic and it’s not like the salt is going away from our body,” Crystal declared,

“Your right,” Ryuk responded while wondering what can be another solution,

“How many coconuts are there?” Crystal asked,

“From the tree, we cut down, um a solid 50,” Ryuk said,

“Well, that’s awesome! That’s more than enough for us to last about 25 days,” Crystal yelped,

“Well, I think we should start by cutting the coconuts!” Ryuk exclaimed. He took the dull hatchet and kept on slicing the coconut with his one hand until it broke.

“Crack!” The coconut cracked,

“Okay I got one cracked, I need to do another,” Ryuk remarked,

“You can just do this instead,” Crystal said, as she placed the hatchet straight and then started banging the coconut on the hatchet,

“Crack!” The coconut cracked,

“See this took way less time,” Crystal discloses. Both of them start munching on the copra and then drinking the coconut water.

“Good breakfast!” Ryuk exclaimed. Ryuk took the last of his remaining rope, a long stick, and sharp rock, and combined it to make a spear.

“Now this can be good to catch fish!” Ryuk said as if he invented something new. Happiness wasn’t a critical mood in this situation, it is hope, belief, and determination. Ryuk’s clothes were all ripped and his hand was still healing. They knew that they were hopeless, but most importantly they had belief in themselves and each other. Ryuk ran to the ocean with his spear in one hand, after several tries he caught a fish,

“I CAUGHT ONE!” Ryuk yelled in astonishment,

“Just one?” Crystal said,

“Well, they are really fast,” Ryuk remarked,

“I am going to make a fire so we can cook the fish,” Crystal said,

“Okay I will try to catch more fish then,” Ryuk replied. Crystal finds a lot of extra wood from the other day and finds flint rocks and a little bit of steel from her pocket, it must have been the metal necklace she had been carrying, she rubbed the flint and the little bit of steel together for a pretty long time until the fire came out she placed it on the wood,

“I made a fire!!!” Crystal said,

“Nice, I am trying to find more fish,” Ryuk announces. As Ryuk goes back to the ocean he sees Roca with two large fish in her mouth,

“Roca got us fish!” Ryuk exclaimed,

“Thanks, Roca, we’ll cook one for you too!” Crystal affirmed. Crystal took the two fish from Roca’s mouth, she took two sticks and put them inside the fish.

“Now we can roast it over the fire like they’re a marshmallow,” Crystal exclaimed with happiness as if she got what she wanted for her birthday. Ryuk got his large leaves as a plate. After a long time, the fish was done, Crystal gave one fish to Ryuk, one to Roca, and one for herself.

“Roca's, it's really hot, so be careful!” Crystal said as if she was Roca’s mom. Roca did not listen to a single word to what Crystal said and she started munching like she never ate before,

“It needs a lot of things,” Ryuk affirmed,

“Yeah it does, but we don’t have any of the ingredients,” Crystal said hopelessly,

“One of the most important things that we need is a taste to this fish, maybe we should put some berries there,” Ryuk conveyed,

“We can, but the berries have a horrible taste,” Crystal affirmed,

“We can try it right?” Ryuk responded,

“Fine, we can try it at dinner, but if anything goes wrong it’s all your fault,” Crystal acknowledges.

Eight hours later or 9 pm:

Crystal went to the berry bush and plucked out 10 berries, This is not the best idea Crystal thought inside her head. Crystal loved reading, in school people called book addicts, and that’s why she can go deep in pretty much anything you can think of. Crystal walks over to the fire and starts setting the fish up.

“Hey on the bright side we get to experiment with things!” Ryuk exclaimed,

“I am not giving the ‘tasted’ to fish Roca,” Crystal replied,

“Fine,” Ryuk remarked, Ryuk walked away and went to the other side island, so he can gather leaves to make a plate, he plucked leaves off the tree, then he turned around saw Crystal,

“H-ow?! Did you come here so fast?” Ryuk stuttered with confusion,

“I used to run in my school, you know, like cross country and track and field,” Crystal said nervously. Ryuk nodded and walked away, Ryuk knew something was up. That day when he won the prize several people came to Ryuk as if he was a king and he can grant any wish, be he still doesn’t know why he chose Crystal.

“Ryuk food is ready!” Crystal chanted,

“I am coming,” Ryuk sprinted to the fire.

PART 2 WILL BE COMING SOON!

PART 2: “Okay let’s see how the fish tastes,” Crystal remarked. Ryuk took a huge bite of the fish and closed his eyes,

“This IS awesome!!” Ryuk replied,

“Seriously,” Crystal said as she takes a bite of the fish. Crystal was super surprised that the fish was going to taste that good.

“See I told you,” Ryuk smirked. Ryuk looked at the sky and saw something shiny,

“Do you see that?” Ryuk asked,

“See what?” Crystal back,

“This weird shiny object, probably a shooting sta-” Ryuk didn’t finish the sentence,

“We need to go, immediately!” Crystal bellowed. Crystal and Ryuk went behind a boulder, the “shooting star” was gone. Ryuk got up,

“It’s probably just a shiny, nothing to worry abo-” Ryuk doesn’t finish, and a huge piece of metal lands on the fire. Crystal pulls Ryuk behind the boulder. Then suddenly Ryuk remembers, what he saw in that flight,

“It might be aliens,” Ryuk said in uncertainty,

“You silly! It’s no time to joke around, I study about it, but science has shown that it isn’t real!” Crystal said with an annoying accent.

“BRFFF!” A deafening sound hits Ryuk’s ear hits.

“RYUK! WAKE UP!!” Crystal screamed into Ryuk’s ear. Ryuk got up started walking and then fell on the sand flat on his face.

“I am okay!” Ryuk confirms as he does a thumbs up,

Morning:

Ryuk yawned and woke up from his sand, which was very uncomfortable, probably the reason he had his backache. Ryuk brushes his with his sharp fingers and goes to the water. He takes a whole handful of water and throws it at his face.

“What the-” Ryuk exclaims, as he turns around. He saw a circular object with a bubble type on top,

“What is this?” Ryuk asks,

“I stayed up all night, you were sleeping this just floated from the beach,” Crystal said. She looked all fresh and kind of absurd.

“Could have been from the flight?” Ryuk questions,

“It isn’t when it hit the flight it was very much stable,” Crystal replies,

“Are we gonna try to on it?” Ryuk suggested,

“Just press this switch, and I think it turns on,” Crystal said with doubt,

“Okay, first we must be ready,” Ryuk said,

“We’re ready,” Crystal said in rush. Crystal pressed that big red button in heavy uncertainty, if the switch didn’t work she looked like would drown in a sea of grief. The bubble-type lid opened, and you could enter, both of them jumped in, and in a flash they teleported.

“Where are we?!” Ryuk panicked,

“Somewhere…” Crystal confirmed. They were surrounded by purple walls and two vents.

“Let’s go through the vents and see which one leads to what,” Ryuk remarked. Crystal nodded and pointed to the vent she wanted to go to,

“Let’s go through this one,” Crystal said as she pointed,

Both of them go through the vent for a long time, and then they heard some heavy whisperings, it was an unknown language for Ryuk. Ryuk deeply thought inside his head, it must have been aliens, as he was thinking “DHAM!”, Ryuk slammed on the ground with Crystal,

“AHHHH!” Ryuk screamed in fear,

“How did humans come here,” The unknown being object said, the voice sounded like a robot,

“We have stumbled upon your place, we are truly sorry, please mercy us,” Crystal said with a weak voice,

“Our leader will decide,” The being remarked. Then the alien said a secret code, where a really short person who looked two million years old pondered in,

“Cr-yst-al?!” The old man yelled,

“Dad!” Crystal remarked. Ryuk was dead confused,

“W-hat?” Ryuk stuttered. The old man led Crystal and Ryuk to a big room.

“You see this is my daughter, she actually a million-year-old, but she was born with three superpowers, one: she can time travel, this was a family gene we all could do it, and so was immortality which she also has, two: make herself look young, and lastly three: she can run really fast,” The old man said as he ran out of breath,

“Oh, so that explains everything!” Ryuk said with sweat dripping down his head.

“But there’s is a problem, a long time ago an emperor had two puzzle pieces that were very valuable, but he lost one of them, they were important because they make the alien city function, but one day a robber stole one of the pieces, which was never found again. And now we only have one more piece but we can’t seem to find it at all. People say that Xenoarchaelogist found it but he died afterward,” The old man spoke with all his energy,

“Wait you mean this?” Ryuk asks, as he looks in his pockets, and pulls out a black piece of plastic material and a purple light glowing on it,

“This? The light didn’t glow before,” Ryuk said,

“Oh my yes!!! This is the piece thank you so much, it glows, as you start getting closer and closer to the place,” The old man shined like a light bulb. The old man took the piece from Ryuk and he put it into a machine, which started getting brighter and brighter, and Ryuk woke up on the sand. All alone.

“Crystal?! Hello anyone?!” Ryuk panicked, as he saw a motorboat coming near him, he saw a group of men coming,

“Hola! Buenos dias, Como estas?” The man said in concern,

“I no comprehend Espanol,” Ryuk replied,

“Oh ok, where do you live,”

“I live in Westville, North America,” Ryuk said in a panic, thinking that they won’t understand,

“Okay, how long have been here? Have any family? Anyone else here?” The man asked,

“What’s the date? And no family and no one else is here” Ryuk asked as he thought about Crystal and where she disappeared,

“August 31st,” The man replied,

“21 days,” Ryuk said in disbelief.

“Okay, I need to take you to the nearest airport,” The man said, they both jumped on the boat and left the lonely island.

Two months later:

“Hi, Mrs. Charlotte long time no see,” Ryuk exclaimed,

“Oh my hello, how was your journey?” Mrs. Charlotte asked,

“Fantastic!” Ryuk replied,

“You know a girl named Crystal, she came to visit and see if you were there,” Mrs. Charlotte said as she was mopping the floor,

“Yes, do you know where she went,” Ryuk questioned in astonishment,

“Yes, she said something about meeting her on a specific island in Puerto Rico,” Mrs. Charlotte replied. Ryuk nodded and thought what will happen next is the question.

[lochrannn]

AU-gust: Mama, didn’t mean to make you cry

Read on AO3

prompt no 11: Summer Camp

Characters: Lila Pitt, Diego Hargreeves, Number Five Hargreeves

Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves

-

Diego has asked her twice whether she’d like to help out with the summer holiday programme that he’s set up at his gym for inner city kids whose parents haven’t got the means or availability to send them off to camp, but Lila just waffled a half-answer that boiled down to “no thanks” and he hasn’t asked her again.

It’s not like she doesn’t support the idea. She supposes it’s a nice thing to do for the kids. Diego’s definitely thriving and she’ll usually actively support anything that’ll make him happy, but he’s enjoying himself with or without her participation and when it boils down to it, Lila really doesn’t need to spend her days hanging out with a bunch of snivelling children full of tragic backstories. She’s got plenty of that herself, thank you very much.

That may not have been how she put it to Diego. Maybe the fact that she very quickly started ranting about snot-nosed brats is the reason why he hasn’t brought it up again.

Until today that is.

“Hey Lila,” Diego calls from the kitchen as she’s in the process of brushing her teeth, “can I ask for a favor?”

Lila walks out of the bathroom, mouth full of toothpaste and scrubbing away to find Diego at the kitchen table tinkering with a torch.

“Wha’ ‘ooh you nee’?” Lila asks, finding it a bit hard to articulate around the foam, but she’s sure Diego got the message.

“I… uh… I’m running a little late and I kinda need Five’s van,” he says, not looking up at her, instead concentrating on connecting two very thin looking wires, “He said I could pick it up this morning but I’ve got to get to the gym and won’t have time to swing by the Academy first.”

Then he does take his eyes off his work and instead turns them on her, big and round and shiny, the puppy dog eyes that she personally believes are an unfair tactic in any conversation and asks, “You’re not doing anything this morning, right? You wouldn’t… you know…?” he trails off, apparently hoping that he doesn’t actually have to ask, that she’ll just fill in the rest for herself.

Lila goes over to the kitchen sink to rinse her mouth out and get rid of the toothpaste and once she’s satisfied that she will be able to talk properly again she asks, brandishing her toothbrush a little menacingly at him, “So you’re asking me, on my day off, to take the bus over to the Academy, so I can get the van that your murdering, geriatric brother who walks around in a child’s body, stole off some unsuspecting handyman, even though you could all afford to buy a fucking van, and then bring it to you and what? Get the bus back home after?”

“Uh… yeah?” Diego says a bit dumbly, then rallies and offers, “I’ll make you pancakes this evening!” and when she’s still staring him down he adds, “and I’ll give you a foot rub!”

“That’s not a fair offer, Diego, those are things you like!” Lila says indignantly.

“Yeah, but so do you!” Diego shoots back with an almost sly smirk.

“Urgh!” She throws her hands up in the air, “Fine!”

When Diego gets up and wraps his arms around her, she only resists for a moment on principle and then lets him press his lips against her temple. “Thanks babe!”

-

“Helloooooo?!” Lila calls out as she’s walking into the big entrance hall of the Umbrella Academy mansion.

She doesn’t actually have a key, but she doesn’t need one as nobody ever bothers locking the door. Anyone who might be even a remote threat to the Academy would easily get in whether the door was locked or not.

Her voice echoes in the hall but nobody answers, so she heads to the back stairs to make her way down to the kitchen.

When she gets there she finds both the man she was looking for and also her least favourite Hargreeves sitting at the kitchen table with the newspaper and a cup of coffee.

“Mh, where are the others?” she asks without any real greeting.

“Lila, always a pleasure!” Five’s response is dripping with sarcasm.

“Yeah, fuck you too!” she shoots back. “So where are the ape man and ghost boy?”

“They’ve gone to help our stabbiest brother with his little community engagement project,” Five answers with a bit of a huff, turning a page of his paper and then giving it a straightening shake.

“Why aren’t you with them?” Lila asks, genuinely curious now.

“I don’t particularly like children.”

Lila nods almost sympathetically.

“And they usually seem to think I’m one of them, which makes me want to chew off my own foot.”

“You are one of them, though, pipsqueak!” Lila says, ruffling his hair on the way to the coffee pot to pour herself a cup. It’s a testament to how far they’ve come that all he does is swat at her but doesn’t try and impale her hand with a fork.

“Also, why am I picking the van up if one of you three stooges could have brought it over just as easily?” She’s suddenly filled with indignation.

“Klaus and Luther were already gone when Diego rang and I’m waiting for an important call from Switzerland,” Five says a bit primly and Lila has to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

“Oh, the CERN thing… And? Will we be sucked into a black hole or do you think that’s another apocalypse you can best?” Lila asks, not actually too concerned. Once you’ve dealt with enough doomsday scenarios, you become a bit desensitised.

Five shrugs. “Time will tell.”

“Right!” That’s enough playing nice with Five for one day, one of the reasons they do get on in a way is because they make sure to interact in bite sized increments, “Where are the keys, then?”

-

As Lila climbs out of the van she wonders how best to get the keys to Diego with the least amount of interaction with any of the screeching children on the premises.

For a moment she even considered just leaving the key in the ignition and wandering off, but she thinks Diego would throw a hissy fit. God forbid a car thief might take an interest in their stolen van.

As she comes around the side of the building she can already hear the absolute racket the group of children inside are making and a genuine shiver of apprehension runs down her spine.

But then a closer noise draws her attention and when she takes a look behind the dumpster she regrets having followed her instincts because cowering in the corner is a small child with long, dark, wavy hair that is sobbing uncontrollably.

For a second she thinks she might just hurry inside to let one of the adults know there’s a kid on her own out here, but even to her that doesn’t quite feel right, so she calls out softly, “Uh… little girl… I don’t think you should be out here.”

The girl spins around in shock and her huge, watery, brown eyes fix on Lila, almost like she’s a little bit afraid.

Then she sniffs loudly, Lila tries not to wince at the sound, and says with determination, “I’m not going back in!”

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Lila asks, approaching the child but also looking around for anyone more qualified to deal with the situation.

“Because Brad’s a dick!” she shouts as if Lila should have guessed that.

Lila has to suppress the urge to laugh at the foul language coming out of such a tiny little person, instead she says, “I don’t think you’re supposed to use words like that.”

The girl scowls at her, so Lila tries a different tactic. “What did he do?” she asks while crouching down next to the girl, who doesn’t seem to be too scared of her now.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” the girl mumbles petulantly.

“Okay…” Lila feels entirely in over her head, but so far she hasn’t had the urge to strangle this kid, so maybe she can make it through a conversation with her.

“What’s your name?” she asks.

“Niha,” the girl answers, “What’s yours?”

“Lila,” Lila offers.

“Oh cool! You’re Lila! Coach Diego talks about you all the time!” There’s genuine excitement in the girl’s expression now and LIla is completely taken aback.

“He does?!” she asks, her voice maybe just a bit shrill.

“Yeah! He says you’re one of the best fighters he knows and that it doesn’t matter that you’re a girl, that you put him on his ass all the time in training. See, Coach Diego uses bad language as well!” Niha says triumphantly, as if she’s just won some kind of argument.

“Yeah, I bet he does.” Lila is quite baffled at the glimpse she’s getting of Diego’s summer camp.

“Do you really not want to talk about what Brad did?” she then asks with as gentle a voice as possible, hoping to change the subject, as she suddenly feels a bit awkward about the idea that all of these children apparently know about her.

Niha huffs and caves in on herself again.

“He said I was dirt poor because I didn’t bring any snacks from home.” She sniffs and then blubbers on, “But that’s not even the truth, my mom just didn’t buy any for me. She doesn’t really care that much, I don’t think she really loves me!” And then the girl starts sobbing again and Lila has no idea what to do.

That’s not quite true. She knows what she’s supposed to say. She’s supposed to say ‘of course you’re mummy loves you, she probably just forgot’, but who the hell is she to tell anyone that their mum loves them?

So instead she puts her hand on the small girl's back and rubs it gently, then says, “Hey Niha, you know what? In a few years’ time you’ll be able to get a job and earn your own money and buy all the snacks you want!”

“I’m only eight!” Niha says with a bit of confusion and a bit of indignation and Lila has to admit maybe that wasn’t the best argument.

“Okay, look, I’ll buy you some snacks, okay? And Diego can bring them in for you tomorrow, how does that sound?”

“But he brings us snacks anyway!” The girl looks at her like she’s a bit of an idiot and right now Lila feels almost inclined to agree.

“But these’ll be special snacks, you little knowitall, just for you from me, alright?” Lila explains, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice.

Niha’s eyes start shining brightly again, filling with more unshed tears and Lila hopes she’s not going to start crying again because she doesn’t think her brittle heart can take any more of that, but then something else seems to occur to the girl and she asks, nosily, “Are you Coach Diego’s wife?”

“Uhm!” Lila just makes a noise in panic and is luckily saved by the clanging sound of the metal door to the gym.

“Yo Niha, what are you doing out here? Oh, hey Lila!” Diego calls out with a surprised look on his face as he makes his way over.

Niha looks up at Lila, apparently hoping that she can explain the situation, but really, Lila is not too sure.

“Uh, she said she just needed some air, but she’s all better now, right?” Lila looks at the girl imploringly and she seems just as happy to go along with the lie.

“Well you’d better get back inside, then, we’re about to start an epic game of hide and seek!” Diego explains to the girl and it seems that was the best suggestion Niha has heard all day, because she jumps up to run over to the entrance. She just about manages to remember her manners when she calls out “Thanks!” to Lila before disappearing through the door.

Lila is still crouched on the floor, feeling a little overwhelmed.

“You okay?” Diego asks while she can hear him approach her. She doesn’t need to look at him to know that he’s frowning.

Lila just hums noncommittally, but doesn’t move. The thought of that little girl making her way through life without being sure of her mother’s love is slowly breaking her heart.

“What’s up?” Diego tries again, as he reaches her.

She still doesn’t answer and when a tear rolls down her cheek, she feels Diego’s hand wrap around her arm and he pulls her to her feet before enveloping her in a tight hug.

She wraps her arms around his waist, to squeeze against him even more tightly and presses her face into his chest, hoping she can hide the fact that she’s crying. If not from Diego, then at least from the rest of the world.

He doesn’t ask her about it, at this point he knows she won’t talk until she’s ready to, instead he just holds on to her, stroking her hair gently with one hand until she feels no more brimming tears and she pulls away.

He does keep his hand at the back of her head though as he stoops a little to look her straight in the eyes. “You good?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Lila says, a bit embarrassed about her sudden mild breakdown.

“You wanna come inside?” Diego asks with a soft smile that never fails to make something flutter in her chest and she feels at least a bit better.

“Nah, I’m good!” she says, voice more steady now.

“You sure?” Diego tries to make certain as he rights himself and lets his hand drop from her head to take her own with it instead.

“Yes, definitely,” Lila squeezes his hand to reassure him. “Don’t have the time, anyway. I’ve gotta go to the supermarket and buy some snacks!”

[anianimol]

Wounded | Tetsuro Kuroo

Kuroo x Fem!Reader

Fluff/Imagine

Summary: You notice Kuroo nursing an injury at practice, finally confronting him about it as you both come to terms with your feelings. 

“Alright, let’s pack it up for today” Coach Nekomata’s voice echoed through the gym as the sound of rubber squeaking against the floor faded away.

As you wheeled the volleyball bin back into the storage area, you looked up to see Kuroo a few paces ahead of you, only resisting the urge to call out to him as you noticed something was off. He was—limping? Blinking, you wondered if it was just your eyes playing tricks on you; you had been Nekoma’s manager for about three months now and had never heard of him nursing an injury, much less showing any signs of physical weakness on the court.

Scrunching your eyebrows in concern, you decided you would confront him about it on your ay out; it probably wasn’t a good idea to bring it up in front of the other guys, especially since there was going to be a big practice match against Fukurodani the coming weekend. 

Swallowing your nerves, you called out to the captain as he headed out of the locker room, bag and towel in tow. “Hey, Kuroo” you yelled out, his head spinning towards you, a grin spreading slowly across his features. 

“There’s my favorite new manager,” he chuckled as you rolled your eyes while he jogged over. 

“What’s up? Need help with something?” he inquired, taking in your serious expression. 

“Actually, I was thinking you might,” you said, pointing down at his left leg. “Ahhh,” he smiled sheepishly, hand scratching the back of his head; “ It’s no biggie, just feeling a little tight after practice, that’s all.”

You frowned, concerned that he was trying to hide his pain from you. “If it’s not a big deal, then you won’t mind if I take a look at it, right?” you questioned, hands on your hips as you furrowed your brow at him. 

“ You know what, I can just ice it when I get home Y/N, don’t worry,” he rushed, attempting to make his escape. Oh no you don’t you thought, stomping after him, grabbing him by the back of his jersey as he yelped, failing at his final attempts to convince you that he was in perfect condition while you dragged him into the empty nurse’s office. 

Throwing him down on a cot while you discarded your schoolbag on a nearby table, he began to grumble like a five-year-old as he watched you wash your hands. 

“Y/N, are you trying to seduce me? You know you could have just asked” he drawled with that husky voice of his, the smirk sliding off his face as quickly as it had appeared when he heard you scoff with disgust. “Stop trying to distract me you big baby, you’re not flirting your way out of this one.” 

Seeing the sour look on his face, you added softly, “Kuroo just let me take care of you for two seconds, goddamnit, I know what I’m doing.” 

You began examining his calf, not noticing the warm color making its way across his cheeks as he turned away, embarrassed that your words affected him so easily. 

The more he got to know about you, the more he seemed like; he felt like he was slipping through quicksand, becoming more interested with each interaction. He had begun to take notice of you during his second year after being forced to stay after school for a month to pull his grades up. 

During his afterschool sessions in the library, he had seen you there multiple times, spending time reading or helping friends with homework, approving club paperwork, or maybe just eating lunch. At first, he had convinced himself that he was only attracted to you because you had seemed to pay him no mind, but after a few weeks of actually looking forward to his afterschool work, he figured it would be better to admit it to himself that he was beginning to develop feelings for a girl he had never met. He couldn’t really pinpoint exactly what it was that drew you to him; all he knew was that he wanted to spend much more time with you, watching those animated expressions cross your face as you told a story or watch as your nose scrunched up and your lips pouted while focusing on work. 

After Taketora had bugged him for days on end to talk about the mystery girl he was infatuated with, he finally caved, prompting their idea to hatch a plan to make you the new manager. 

So there you were, feeling up his leg to determine the source of his pain; totally not awkward at all. Looking up suddenly, your stare was met with the intense gaze of Kuroo, pupils focused on your face as you worked. Feeling your ears blazing, you cleared your throat as you started; “ Ok, so I think you pulled what’s called your tibialis posterior, a muscle in the middle of the back of your calf.” 

He whistled. “ Damn, Y/N, a tibia-what?” 

You laughed; “ I’ve been looking into physical therapy techniques to help the team, so I’m pretty sure this isn’t super serious. But I would still like to try out some massage therapy and stretching to prevent something worse from developing.” you added sternly, glancing back at Kuroo. 

“Alright Dr.L/N, I surrender. You sure you know what you’re doing though?” He poked you, earning a well-deserved smack. “Just shut up and stretch out your leg” you groaned at him, squeezing out some lotion to prevent friction as you eased the tension from his leg. 

-

“ I’m going to need you to relax,” you begged a restless Kuroo, as he squirmed under your grip. “For god’s sake, can you STOP MOVING FOR TWO SECONDS!!!” you barked, pinning his leg down. “ I can’t help it!” he yelled back, gritting his teeth. 

Wait a second. “ Oh my god. Kuroo. You’re ticklish.” you choked out, making your best effort to stifle your giggle. He pouted at you, his ears visibly hot pink as he pulled away. You laughed, sighing as you grabbed his leg once again; “I’ll try my best not to tickle you, ok? Just stay still for three more minutes and I’ll buy you ice cream on the way out.” 

You rolled your eyes as he immediately went completely still as you began working out the muscles in his lower leg. As you focused, you noticed the ridiculous amount of muscle this man had on his body; with practically not an ounce of fat on his body, you figured he could probably lift you like a feather. ‘Not that you’d mind’ you thought to yourself, imagining those long fingers wrapping around your body, calloused fingers brushing your cheek—

A groan of pleasure woke you from your daydreams, and looking over at the captain, you realized his eyes had closed, his expression serene. Smiling softly, you admired the way his spiky hair fell across his forehead, some pieces sticking to droplets of swea—Jesus, get a grip Y/N you groaned silently to yourself; you could not fawn over Kuroo Tetsurō. No. He was the captain, that was totally inappropriate, especially because he probably only saw you as a friend, nothing more. He had plenty on his mind, especially with the fall tournament quickly approaching. 

“Y/N” 

You jumped, startled by his sudden utterance. “All done?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbows. “Yup” you squeaked out, rushing frantically to get up and clean off your hands. 

“Hey, Y/N, you ok?” he questioned, making note of your flustered expression as he sat up. Practically tripping over your bag, you headed, face first, towards the floor until hands came up around your shoulders, steadying you. 

“Woah there, slow down,” he murmured, looking up at you worriedly as he felt your warmth spread through his fingers, shooting up his arms as his body reacted to your touch. 

“Umm,” you gulped, meeting his glance with wide eyes, finally giving in to the temptation to peek at his lips, observing quietly how his cupid bow gently accentuated those plush lips. Realizing a bit too late that you had been staring (quite obviously) for way too long, your glance shot up to meet his as you froze in place. 

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, the rising and falling of his chest quickening as he looked into your eyes. Without a word, he leaned forward, pressing you to him, as his lips gently grazed yours, your fingers finding their way across his broad shoulders and reaching the base of his neck. 

Pulling away slowly after a few minutes, your forehead rested against his you caught your breath, grinning with rosy cheeks as you gazed at one another.  

“ Well if my leg didn’t feel better earlier, it definitely does now” he joked, softly stroking the side of your face as he pulled you into his arms.